“Ack!” I said. I waved my hands without any real enthusiasm, and settled for scratching him under the chin and behind the ears while he greeted me. “Easy there, superdog,” I said. “I think I exfoliated a couple of licks ago.”

Mouse made a happy chuffing sound, tail still wagging. Then he turned and padded out of the bedroom.

A moment later, he returned, and Molly followed him in.

She made an impression walking into the room. I was used to Molly in old jeans and sandals and a faded T-shirt. Now she wore slacks and a deep blue blouse that looked like they’d been hand-tailored to fit. Her hair, which I had seen in every improbable shade and configuration imaginable, was now long and straight and the color of moonlight on corn silk. She still looked a shade too angular and thin. Her eyes had been haunted and strained the last time I’d seen her in the flesh. Now they had a few added wrinkles at the corners, maybe, and a gravity I hadn’t seen in them before—but they were steady and calm.

Without a word, she knelt down beside me and gave me a hard hug around the neck.

“Ack,” I said again, but I was smiling. Again. It made all the muscles in my body twinge, but I moved one arm and patted her hair. “Hey, grasshopper.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. Her arms tightened a little. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“Hey, it all worked out,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“Of course you’re okay,” she said, and despite the bravado in her words, I thought she might have been sniffling. “I was the one working on you.”

“Look,” I said. “The parasite. It isn’t some kind of hostile entity—”

She nodded, her hair rubbing against mine. “I know. I know. The guy in black told me all about it while I was in there.”

“Is the spirit all right?” I asked.

She released me from her hug/choke hold and nodded at me, smiling, her eyes suspiciously wet. “Of course, the first thing you want to know is if someone else is all right.” She reached across me and picked up something from the floor near my head, where I hadn’t been able to see. It was the wooden skull I’d carved for Bob.

“It was a tough delivery,” Molly said. “She’s very tired.”

I grunted, lifted my hand, and took the wooden skull in my fingers.

Immediately, tiny flickers of greenish light appeared in the eye sockets, and the little spirit made a soft, confused sound.

“Shhh,” I said. “It’s me. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

“Oh,” said the little spirit. “Hi. Good.” And the flickers of light vanished again with a small, weary pop.

“You know,” Molly said, smiling, “it’s traditional to have a home of your own if you’re going to keep adopting strays.”

I tucked the wooden skull into the crook ofmy arm and said, “Home is where, when you go there and tell people to get out, they have to leave.”

She grinned, smoothed some hair back from my forehead, and said, “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling more like yourself.”

I smiled at her a little. “Makes two of us,” I said. “How you holding up?”

Her eyes glittered. “It’s . . . been really interesting. It all looks very, very different from the inside.”

“Usually how it works,” I said. “Tell me about it?”

“Can’t, literally,” she said cheerfully and waved an airy hand. “Faerie mystique and all that.”

“Figures. You like it?”

“Not always,” she said without rancor. “But . . . it’s necessary work. Worth doing.”

“Yet you didn’t tell your folks about it.”

For the first time, Molly’s calm slipped a little. Her cheeks turned a little pink. “I . . . Yeah, I haven’t quite gotten around to that yet.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, God, you didn’t . . .”

“No,” I said. “Skated past it just in time. Though I think I might have given your father the impression that we, uh . . . you know.”

A small, choked laugh, a sound equal parts mirth and absolute horror burst out of her mouth. “Oh. Oh, God. That’s what those looks were about.” She shook her head.

“You should tell them,” I said.

“I will,” she said, with a little too much instant assurance. “You know. When I find a way to bring it up.” She bit her lower lip, maybe unconsciously, and said, “You, uh . . . you’ll let me do that, right?”

“If that’s your choice, I’ll respect it. You aren’t really my apprentice anymore, Molls.”

She stared at me for a second after I said that, and I saw hurt and realization alike flicker through her features. Then she nodded and said quietly, “I guess I’m not, am I?”

I made another major effort and patted her hand. “Things change,” I said. “Nothing to feel sad about.”

“No,” she said. She squeezed my fingers back for a second and forced a smile. “Of course not.”

“Mab been around?” I asked.

She shook her head. “She knows I’m going to want to talk to her about sidetracking me. But she’s in town. I can feel that much. Why?”

“Because I’m going to want to talk to her too.”

* * *

One hour, one shower, and one barrage of painkillers later, I was dressed and able to shamble down the stairs under my own power, just after sundown. Mouse followed me carefully. Molly didn’t quite hover around like a Secret Service agent prepared to throw herself into the way of a bullet if necessary, but only just.