Nightworld

"Maybe you'd better call and cancel us out of this little meeting," Hank said.

Carol glanced at him across the bedroom as she finished buttoning her blouse. He'd tested the lock on the bedroom window for the dozenth time, and now he was craning his neck this way and that, his quick hazel eyes scanning the street below and the sky above.

"We can't," she said. "It's too important."

Glaeken had called her early this morning and asked her to come over and meet the others who would be involved in his countermove against Jimmy.

No! Not Jimmy—Rasalom!

"I don't think it's safe. That's over by Central Park."

"Mr. Veilleur said we have nothing to fear in the daylight."

Hank quickly ran a hand through the thinning light-brown hair that he combed straight back from his receding hairline. That plus his prominent nose tended to give him a hawkish appearance. Carol had been trying to get him to soften his hairstyle. He'd comply for a while, then revert to his old ways. He'd been a bachelor for forty-five years when they met. She had no real hope of changing him into someone with a sense of style, but that didn't mean she'd stop trying. She liked challenges.

"Nothing to fear in the daylight? And what makes this Mr. Veilleur so sure about that when one renowned scientist after another claims to be completely baffled by that hole and these creatures?"

"He knows," Carol said. "Believe me, he knows."

"I don't like this, Carol," Hank said, wandering the tiny bedroom with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. "With all the awful things going on out on the streets, it seems to me the prudent thing to do would be to stay inside until everything's under control."

Carol shook her head and smiled softly as she pulled a skirt from its hanger in her closet. That was Hank, always weighing the pros and cons, measuring the liabilities, gaging the hazards to find the course of action with the lowest risk-benefit ratio. Always safe and sane, always planning ahead, that was Hank. And there was nothing wrong with that.

No…nothing wrong with that at all. Carol needed safe and sane in her life. She needed someone nearby who planned for the future. It helped Carol believe that there was going to be a future, and that it mattered.

Hank was so different from Jim. Her first husband had been a writer, living day to day, doing things on impulse, earning hangovers. Spontaneity and intemperance were not part of Hank's repertoire.

And yet there was much to be said for staid and stable. Her marriage to Hank might lack the heat and passion of her relationship with Jim, but it did have warmth and trust and companionship, and she needed those right now.

"I can't put it off," Carol said. "It's got to be this morning. There are people there he wants me to meet, and I want you to meet him and the others."

He looked at her. "You're determined to go, aren't you."

"Hank, I've got to."

"Well, I'm certainly not letting you travel across town alone today. So I guess we'll be paying a visit on Mr…"

"Veilleur. But he likes to be called Glaeken. And Bill Ryan will be there, so it won't be as if you won't know anybody."

"He's involved in this too? How long have you been meeting this Veilleur or Glaeken fellow? And why does it all have to be so mysterious? Why can't you tell me more about it?"

"I'm going to tell you all about it. I—I haven't told you everything about my past and I think it's high time you knew."

Hank stepped in front of her and gently slipped his arms around her.

"You don't have to worry about me. Nothing you can say will change how I feel about you."

"I hope so." I hope you can handle what's coming.

"But why can't you tell me first?"

"Because I want you to have the big picture first before I tell you my part in it. Glaeken knows more about it and can explain it better than I can." He was there when it all started. "He knows who's behind those things that came out of the Central Park hole last night."

Hank took a half step back from her.

"He does? Who?"

Carol bit her lip, wondering how much to say. Well, why not just blow the door off its hinges? Give him his first look into her locked room. Nothing would stay hidden long after that.

"My son."