"I used to stay with Maryanne when things got messy between my parents. If I wasn't at your house, I was with her. She was always there for me when others weren't." Daniel wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. His fingernails were blackened with what looked like marker ink.

"I just felt like I should pay my last respects..."

"I guess I forgot. Maryanne took care of a lot of people."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not special or anything."

"No. That's not what I meant... I'm just sorry I didn't remember." I put my hand on his shoulder. He shrank away, and I could barely feel the firmness of his body under the fabric of his coat.

"Things were really hard for you. I'm sure Maryanne made you feel--"

"Loved?"

"I guess. Loved, or at least normal."

Daniel shook his head. "I felt close to loved sometimes. Like when Maryanne read me stories at night, or when I'd sit around the table with your family. There's nothing like a Divine family dinner to make you feel like someone might care about you. But I never felt normal. Somehow, I always knew I didn't ..."

"Belong?" For some reason I could understand.

"I never did belong, did I?" Daniel reached up and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist. He moved like he was going to cast my hand away, but then he hesitated and turned my hand over, cradling it in both of his. "But I can't tell you how many times over the last few years I wished I could be eating at that table with your family. Like I could take back everything I did, change things so I could be a part of it again. But that's impossible, isn't it?" He traced his warm fingers up the heart line in my open palm, and slipped his fingers in between mine.

It may have been the glimmering from the spotlights or the swirling of the fog, but for a moment he looked like the old Daniel, the one with white-blond hair and mischievous but innocent eyes--like the years had melted away and the darkness had drained out of him. And in that moment, something--an energy--passed between us. Like the thread that had drawn me to him was now a live wire, a lifeline, that bound us together, and I needed to pull him to safety.

"We're having a big Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow," I blurted out. "You should come. I want you to."

Daniel blinked. "You're freezing," he said. "We should go inside somewhere." Daniel stood up, still holding my hand, and led me down the gravel lane. I didn't know when he was going to let go of my hand--and I didn't want him to. And I held on because I knew he needed me.

He finally let go as he stepped off the path and into a patch of decaying plants. "The fence isn't as high if we go this way," he said.

I hesitated for a moment on the edge of the path, watching him slip away into the mist. I stepped off the gravel walkway and followed him through the depths of the garden. When we made it to the iron fence, I let him help me over, his hands skimming my waist and legs as I climbed. We walked side by side as we found our way back to the motorcycle. Our fingers brushed once, and I longed for him to take my hand in his again. I climbed on the back of the motorcycle and took in a deep breath of Daniel's earthy scent as the bike shot into the city night.

A FEW MINUTES LATER

The motorcycle lurched to a stop in front of Daniel's building. I slammed into his back and almost flew right off into the gutter.

Daniel gripped my thigh and steadied me. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, and let his hand linger for a moment.

Daniel got off the bike, and I followed. He rested his arm on my shoulder and steered me up the sidewalk and through the door less entry of the apartment building. My heart thumped so hard as we went up the stairs I feared that Daniel might hear it. The thumping grew louder and heavier as we climbed, and I realized there was music coming from behind a door on the third landing. Daniel put his key in his pocket and tentatively pushed open his door. Sound engulfed us. Gyrating dancers packed the front room, and Zed--looking much more lively than he had before--sang (i.e., screamed) into a microphone while a few other guys banged on musical instruments with reckless abandon.

Daniel led me into the throng. I choked on the sickly sweet smoke wafting in the air. I was coughing and sputtering when this person, who looked more woman than teenage girl, emerged from the crowd. She came toward us, moving and convulsing to the indiscernible beat of Zed's song. Her short hair feathered out like she was some type of exotic bird, and her bleached white bangs made three perfect triangles on her forehead--the tips of them were dyed a garish shade of pink.

"Danny Boy, you made it," she said in an Eastern European-sounding accent. She turned her thick kohl-lined eyes on me and plumped her blood-red lips.

Daniel released my shoulder.

"Oh, look"--she took me in from head to toe--"you brought treats. T hope there's enough to share."

"Grace, this is Mishka, We knew each other a long time ago," Daniel said about the female clad in a black leather mini and what I think is called a bustier.

"Not so long, Danny Boy." She leaned her breasts up against him. "But you were more fun then." She traced a long, red, talon like fingernail down his cheek. "You must come with me now." She pulled Daniel away from my side. "You have kept me waiting, and Mishka is not a patient woman."

'"Come on, Grace." Daniel held his hand out to me. I was about to slip my fingers into his when Mishka scowled,

"No!" she said. "I do not perform for an audience. This one stays here."

"I won't leave her behind."

Mishka leaned in even closer to Daniel, her gleaming teeth brushed his ear as she spoke. "You and I are the only real players here. Your girl will be fine without you for a few minutes. Mishka will not wait for you any longer, Danny Boy."

She pulled on his arm, but he didn't budge.

"Do you need a reminder of how I get when you disappoint me?" She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips.

"No ... but Grace ... ," he protested halfheartedly.

Mishka turned her glare on me. The irises of her eyes looked jet-black in the apartment's murky light. She brushed my arm with her talons, and her teeth seemed awfully sharp as she smiled.

"You do not mind if I borrow my Danny Boy for a few moments," she said, but I could have sworn that her hps never moved--like I'd heard her voice inside my head.