The mist was gone by the time the sun cleared the trees, and so was Cross, and I stood at the window where Adrian had stood, pressing my palm to the crescent, listening to the rope.
It was quieter now. The thumb still sat on the wire — I could feel the Director's presence in the middle of the rope like a crow that had decided to nest — but the morning was ours. The house smelled of cedar and the particular silence of a place that had never expected to hold two people.
Adrian came up behind me. His hands found my shoulders, then slid down my arms, and the warmth of him pressed against my back through his shirt. "She's going to call," he said. "Before noon. She'll make it sound like a gift."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know what she wants." His mouth found the curve of my neck, just be
