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I wasn't sure that Andy was in any fit state to drive, but he pulled back into traffic and made his way toward the hotel. I asked Quinn if we should tell Errol what we were doing, and he shook his head.

"When it's done, I'll tell him. We'll tell him."

Taking the fennec's forepaw into my own, I told him, "I won't ask if you're sure. I know that you are. I just wish I knew why you're sure."

He smiled softly and asked, "Will you be upset with me if I tell you that I can feel it in my soul?"

"Not angry," I said, trying to match his smile with one of my own. "Frustrated, but not angry."

"You'll understand soon. I promise."

I saw Andy flick me an ears-flat-back glance by way of the rearview mirror, and I had the distinct impression that he was trying very hard not to bite anything, including me. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame him, and I'd have given anything for a whiff of wintergreen. If Philip had anything to contribute, he wasn't being very outspoken about it.

The hotel's parking garage was large yet had only three levels to it. Andy maneuvered the sedan backward into a parking space as near to the stairs as he could get. He was preparing for a quick departure and pursuit, if necessary. The car had siren and lights available. I hoped they wouldn't be required.

We padded quickly to the doors leading into the hotel itself, down the interior corridor to the elevators. Andy pointed out the location of room 327, hoping that the layout on the floor above was the same. The elevators were a little distance away. We arrived quickly at the fourth floor, and the raccoon stood to one side, patting his sidearm but staying where he promised he would stay. Neither Quinn nor I was keen to get there quickly, but we soon arrived at the door to 427, and he knocked on it quietly.

The door opened slowly, and a human woman, her face streaked with tears, gazed at us. Her drivers license photo did her no justice, but I could recognize that she was Salina Carnahan. She spoke quietly. "He wants you to give your hair cuff to me."

Quinn put out his forepaw to her, and she took it gently in her hand. To the man who had to have been standing behind her, he said, "That's now how this goes, James; you know that."

After a moment, a male voice replied, "Then you'd better come in."

Salina moved back into the room as we entered; heart in my throat, I closed the door behind us, and we faced our combined threat.

He stood near a table with two chairs next to it. A small snack tray still held perhaps half of its contents of crackers, cheese, and meat tidbits. He hadn't lied about there not being much to go around. Beyond that, he seemed to be very much like his drivers license photo. Average height, average build, average appearance, his physical presence was unassuming, neutral, forgettable; save for the gun in his hand, James Hasslermund was the picture of "harmless."

Moving the gun almost dismissively in his hand, he signaled Salina to sit on the bed. She complied still shaking. He reached his other hand toward Quinn, who shook his head.

"Tell us why first."

Groaning softly, the man said, "Must you indulge in so much melodrama?"

"It's the artist in me."

"Then you can tell the story on your own time."

Again, the fennec shook his head. "You need to hear yourself say it. It's not about admitting to crimes; it's about telling us why you wanted all five pieces of the stone. It's covetous, perhaps, but not criminal."

The man seemed to consider this, weighing options in his mind. "I didn't get what you all did. With the whole stone, I would finally get what I deserve."

"Interesting phrasing." Quinn let a hint of a smile cross his muzzle. "What do you deserve?"

"The stone made you all rich, famous."

"Errol is rich and famous?" I asked.

Hasslermund scowled. "He wants for nothing. Home, good vehicle, his precious preserve land preserved. Bridgette wrote poetry that moved worlds for her, made her known, rich." He jutted his chin at Salina. "She made stuffed toys, and the world beat a path to her door. And you," he glared at Quinn, "singing your way to stardom, awards, wealth."

"And you," the fennec spoke softly, "designed intricate programming that helped people with lost limbs to take back so much of their lives. An algorithm for sensory input? That's truly amazing."

The man's expression softened slightly. "How can you know about that?"

"I don't read trade journals, but breakthroughs like that are reported all over the internet. First person accounts, praise from high places. From what you could tell us, what with all the confidentiality stuff, I knew it had to be you."

"My name isn't anywhere in those stories."

"No." The songwriter's voice was very soft. "Only the company. So proud of their 'team' and their 'ongoing commitment to medical advancement'."

Hasslermund spat a few choice words. "I made that happen. My work. _My_programming."

"You got nothing?" I asked.

"Raises. Pats on the back. An office, so I could keep on creating and refining for them." His lower lip quivered, and I sensed that the hand holding the gun was far too tense to be trusted fully. "I couldn't stop it," he said. "I kept seeing things. They were like paths, maps, breakthroughs in my head. It just kept going."

"For a salary of a few hundred thousand a year?" Quinn asked.

"They made hundreds of millions every year." The voice was quiet but intense. "And they own it. Everything that I ever created. They own my 'work product,' and everything that could ever be made from it."

Quinn shook his head slowly. "That not right, James."

"No... but it's legal." The hand holding the gun seemed to steady itself. "It's time I broke out of that living hell. It's time I finally got what I deserve. What all of you got, and I didn't. I'll have all the pieces, all the power of the stone. I will be able to use the power like I deserve to." He extended his empty hand. "Give me your portion, Quinn. The last piece."

"You want my soul?" The fennec's smile was strangely calm. "A lot of mythology around that one. Are you the Devil, James?"

"The time for word games is past. Give it to me."

"Quinn, don't," Salina whimpered from her place on the bed.

Again, Quinn held up a forepaw, softly quieting her. I could sense the slightest twitch of his tail, but I couldn't read it. What occurred to me then was that I also couldn't read anything else about the room. Salina's soft sobbing and body language said plenty without the addition of the scent of fear on her; for Hasslermund, the scent was mostly of soaps and deodorants, as if he mistrusted his own scent, or perhaps he thought that he could disguise himself from the generally more sensitive noses of therians. It made him even more annoying, but that wasn't the point. I genuinely couldn't sense (or "make sense") of the emotions and physical cues in that room. In that moment, I felt that the whole scene was somehow unreal and, most startling of all, not truly dangerous. Before I could process that emotion, Quinn's voice gently took hold of my attention.

"I will give it to you, if you will grant me one request."

"You're in no position to bargain."

"Not a bargain; a request. I want to remember us as we were. I want to see all of the pieces of the stone together, one last time."

The man didn't move, said nothing, for several seconds. "Sentimentality."

"I thought you'd known that about me by now." The fennec moved his arm very slowly to indicate the table. "Set them down there. Salina's ring, Bridgette's necklace, Errol's ring... even yours, if you're feeling generous. And then I'll put my hair cuff there, and we'll have one last reunion." He cast a glance at Salina. "One last time for us all to be together."

Hasslermund was too fixed on Quinn to notice, but I saw Salina hold Quinn's eyes, and her sobbing slowed, her breathing became more normal. She clearly had come to some realization, some acceptance. I felt that I should understand by now, but I could only wait and watch.

"And then what?" the man asked.

"Then, you take it all with you. We'll stay here, you leave, and you do what you have to do."

"Just like that?" The voice sneered for the face that seemed unable or unwilling to register it. "You think I can just walk out of here?"

"What else were you going to do? What's your exit plan?"

"To be protected."

Quinn's face imitated confusion that he didn't feel; I could tell the difference, but the man wasn't able to detect it. "How will you be protected?"

"Rich people don't go to prison." The man's face was placid, as if he were simply explaining the simplest of facts to a foolish child. "Ask my corporate masters about that one. From the company itself to the bigwigs who run it. The whole thing is worse than corrupt; it's a moral outrage."

"One that you don't mind committing?"

"What's good for the goose... ah, but that's not 'correct' anymore, is it? Must be correct." The phrase was spoken like some mantra he was being forced to use. "Perhaps if I used the more human-based cliché of the shoe being on the other foot. I will use their own methods against them."

"You won't be rich instantaneously, will you?"

"No matter. The stone will protect me because it will protect itself as well. I have enough money to post a reasonable bail; after that, there will be time to get the rest together."

I'm not a lawyer; in some ways, I'm not even a cop. The words That's not how it works were lined up for me to speak them, and they promised to have reinforcements available as soon as they were let free. I didn't say them. Simple experience in today's world told me that Hasslermund wasn't all that far wrong, and even the fact that Bridgette's murder would be a high-profile case, thus likely to make any bail very high, didn't mean that he might not be able to make it happen.

More than this, however, I didn't say anything because of a gut certainty that my earlier impression was correct: We really weren't in any danger. This would work out well enough, and soon. There was no sane reason in the world to believe that; I just knew that it was true. I felt my ears relax, my tail still but not stiff, not bushy anymore.

Quinn nodded. "Would you lay out the rings and the necklace, please? Then I'll put my hair cuff with them. All together, one more time."

Hasslermund still didn't move for several seconds. He offered a disappointed chuckle, saying, "Musicians and reunions." And then several more seconds before he dipped his left hand slowly into his pants pocket and removed several items. He deposited two rings and a necklace onto the table, then stepped away from it, still holding the gun on us. "Your turn."

The fennec pretended a look of confusion. "Only two rings? Not your own as well?"

"I'm not able to retrieve it easily while holding this gun. Perhaps if you place your hair cuff there first, I'll feel a bit more trusting."

"As you wish." Quinn padded slowly to the table, first moving the snack tray well away from the jewelry, then arranging the rings to either side of the necklace, making the chain neat. With a smile, he reached behind his head and took the cuff from his braid, setting the silver piece within the circle described by the necklace chain. He backed away from the table, standing near to me again, and all four of us looked at the jewelry so carefully displayed there.

Four stones held my complete attention in that moment, their deep lapis-like blue having a mesmeric quality. Their beauty alone was entrancing enough, but there was more to them as well. Even if I hadn't known of the stories that their wearers had told me, I could sense that there was something more to them. One of my recent cases involved learning about the supposed powers of various stones and minerals, for anything from good health to luck in money or love; sometimes, handling one of the stones can give you that sense of connection or grounding. I met Madame Rosa, who gave to me a "worry stone" made of bloodstone, and I use it often, have a fondness for it. The sensation from these pieces was different, very powerful, and it was the source of the calmness that I now shared with Salina and Quinn. "Calming" was too mild a word. More like "connectedness." I thought I was finally beginning to understand.

"Can you get to your ring now?" the songwriter asked.

Hasslermund looked back to Quinn, and his expression changed. After all this time, the human male's face finally reflected an emotion, and one I recognized: Triumph. With it, he said, "No. You'll just have to imagine it on your own."

"Imagination isn't required." With a jut of his chin, he indicated the table.

The fifth stone, without the ring, lay near its counterparts. I certainly didn't see it happen, and I don't think the rest of us did either. It was simply there.

Forgetting himself entirely, the man jerked his right hand enough to see his fingers. The ring was there, with an empty space for a mounting; the stone lay on the table. Even though the gun wasn't aimed at any of us, no one moved to disarm him. We didn't need to. Unbidden, words came to my mind: The moment has been prepared for.

When next we looked, there was only a single deep blue stone on the table, laying amid four bits of jewelry that looked rather plain without their adornment.

Hasslermund made a left-handed grab for it. I didn't see clearly just what happened; perhaps his hand simply missed it, or failed to close fingers around it, or maybe it moved (which would not have shocked me, at this point). He tried several times, reaching across his body, his gun hand pointing away from us, the weapon itself forgotten. He knocked the tray of tidbits onto the floor, nearly turned the table over, trying to grab the stone. Ultimately, he dropped the gun to the floor, tried using his dominant right hand, tried using both hands, and he simply could not keep hold of the stone. He flattened his hand against the table, right on top of the stone, moving it toward the edge, to catch the stone in his other hand as it slid off the edge of the table... and his hands remained empty.

Sitting down hard on the floor, Hasslermund made soft, strange sounds in his throat, his eyes focused on nothing that any of the rest of us could see. The gun lay on the floor near him, apparently forgotten, but we didn't make any move toward him or it. Quinn gestured softly for me to sit next to Salina, who extended a hand to take my forepaw, her face offering a calm, warm smile. The fennec squatted on his haunches, keeping his distance yet putting himself on the same level with the man.

"James." He spoke softly. "Do you understand?"

The man shook his head violently, an action that looked more like denial and terror than lack of comprehension.

"It was a gift," Quinn continued. "Each of us felt it's spirit, and it in turn felt ours. That's what sparked the changes in us. The stone believed in each of us, and we five believed in ourselves and each of us, together. It's the symbiosis, James, not the stone by itself."

A soft whimper escaped the man's lips, and he shook his head more.

Moving slowly, the fennec got to his knees, just a little nearer, still watching Hasslermund closely. "Gifts are freely given, like friendship, companionship, caring. You can't steal love. You can't just take it for yourself, and you can't capture the love that someone shares with someone else."

"What are you..." the man tried. "What about...?"

"Do you remember who we were, James? The nights at Hotel Esposito, times that even you called magical. We laughed and dreamed, even you did, James. I remember it. Do you?"

"I remember, James." Salina spoke calmly, clearly, her hand squeezing my forepaw briefly. "We shared a lot, over all these years. We were always there, weren't we?"

A feeling rose in me, no idea how or where it came from. Salina caught my eye, and she smiled and nodded at me. I spoke several words in Vulpine. Quinn looked to me and smiled, also nodding. I offered the approximate translation. "Light lived is the dream made real."

He didn't look at me, although he turned his head toward my voice. "Bridgette," he whispered.

No one moved or spoke for a very long time. I don't know what I expected to happen; all I knew was that I felt strangely calm. I felt as I did when I saw Bridgette behind the state park motel. I felt her words and, when I spoke them now, I felt her spirit.

The silence continued through a strange pantomime. Hasslermund shifted slowly, ending by sitting on his hands and nodding at the gun at his side. Quinn looked to me, apology in his eyes. The human looked to me then, seeing me as if for the first time, and he nodded again. I don't like firearms, but I know how to handle them. I moved slowly -- everything felt like slow-motion. I retrieved the gun, an automatic; I found the chamber empty, and I engaged the safety. I had carried no purse or pouch into the room, so I had to hold it. Training had shown me how, and I would keep it safe. Didn't mean that I liked it.

I moved toward the door to the hall, but I didn't leave. I watched as Quinn and Salina moved toward Hasslermund, extending hand and forepaw to him. He released his hands from underneath him, and they held each other that way. It took only seconds for the man to begin weeping, then sobbing, then keening, and neither woman nor fennec let go of him. The sheer agony that radiated from the man swept me up as well, and I found myself crying with them.

What felt like an hour was only a few minutes. Hasslermund took back his hands to try to wipe his face. I padded into the bathroom to find a towel, then returned to pass it to him. He held it to his face for another long moment, finally dropping it and his hands into his lap. Looking up at me, he said, "I want to confess."

"Mr. Hasslermund, please, get a lawyer first."

"No. I'll plead guilty to everything."

"Please listen to me. If you keep silent until you speak to a lawyer, you'll be treated far better. More than that, it will be faster." I mentally crossed my fingers on that one; it would probably be true, but there was no guarantee.

"I don't care," he said.

"But we do," Salina told him. "We don't want you destroyed by this."

He shook his head. "I don't deserve--"

"You deserve fairness," Quinn said softly. "You want to atone, and you will. Properly. Fairly. To do the right thing, the right way. Please, James. Listen to us."

"Do you have an attorney, Mr. Hasslermund?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"If you'll allow me to recommend one, I think we can do this quickly."

After only a moment, he nodded. He offered his hands to Quinn and Salina again, and they took them wordlessly.

"I'll be right back."

Exiting the room, I signaled to Andy, keeping the gun low and pointed away. He came up quickly and took it from me. Hurriedly, I filled him in on the gist of the encounter. The 'coon was ready to barge in and make the arrest, and I stopped him, telling him the rest. He looked at me as if I'd lost every shred of common sense I'd ever had. I put a forepaw to his shoulder and returned his look steadily. He didn't like it, but he finally let me call Fabian Whitson. The sable's secretary almost didn't put me through until I mentioned Bridgette's and Quinn's names. I quickly outlined to him the need for his new client, James Hasslermund, to be seen immediately. His offices weren't far from the hotel, and he promised to be here within half an hour.

Convincing Andy became easier when he suddenly blinked and said, "Wintergreen." I hadn't smelled anything, but I didn't say so. To help keep the story straight, I returned to the room with the weapon. Quinn, Salina, and I were to be held hostage until Hasslermund could give himself up to the lawyer; the man would give the gun to the lawyer, Andy would be allowed in, and the rest...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The hotel was in the block adjacent to the hospital; after a short period of gathering our collective wits, the four of us made our way to Errol's room. Dr. Leonel Burney was going through his final paperwork for the day, and I had a quiet word with him. Errol was deemed safe to be sent home "with supervision." My offer of the recliner in my house (to help him keep his legs and head up while he slept) seemed to suit all parties. Quinn gave Mrs. Raines a fond farewell, and she, having been assured that the fennec was no longer in danger, was given leave to tell her family about having met the songwriter who had helped to change her life so much.

It was Salina's turn to provide food (she declared, brooking no argument) and, with Andy and my input on great repasts, the five of us shared quite the spread of Italian food to satisfy both glutton and gourmet in each of us. Despite his burning curiosity, Errol waited until we had all finished before insisting on the details of what had happened. We enthroned the big gray wolf in the recliner which, although comfortable enough for him, wasn't as large (or familiar) as the one in his home in the foothills. Quinn, Salina, and I related the story as best we could. When we described Hasslermund's weeping, Errol closed his eyes for a moment.

"That explains that." He opened his eyes again, perhaps sensing our curiosity. "I felt a wave of sorrow this afternoon, like drowning in pain, and I didn't know why. Mrs. Raines was napping quietly, and I kept silent as best I could. It didn't frighten me; I didn't think something had happened to you, nothing... well, physical."

"I think..." I hesitated, then took the chance. "I think you all felt it. I spoke some of my favorite of Bridgette's words, in Vulpine, then in English." I looked to Quinn. "You'd asked if I saw her, at the motel near the park. Yes, I did. She was more wistful than sad. She left very peacefully, saying Save our souls. It wasn't until Salina told us the story that I understood." I paused again. "It felt as if she guided me to speak."

"Perhaps she did," Salina said. "You spoke for her. I felt that."

"Me, too," Quinn added. "Maybe James felt it as well."

"What's going to happen to him?" the wolf asked.

"I can offer a guess," Andy spoke up, then cleared his throat meaningfully. "The way I understand it, he had held these three prisoner, only giving himself up to his lawyer. When Mr. Whitson came in, Mr. Hasslermund let his prisoners go, keeping the lawyer at gunpoint." Another throat-clearing. "After a time, Mr. Whitson was allowed to let me and Naomi in, where I made the arrest. The lawyer said that his client understood his Miranda rights and that he had instructed his client not to say anything without him being present. I called for a car to collect him. The officers were told to take him through booking, not to question him without his lawyer. I'm told that Mr. Whitson will be speaking to the DA's office prior to the arraignment."

"Salina, Naomi, and I are going to be giving statements to the police and DA, with Mr. Whitson present. We're to be witnesses for the defense." Quinn smiled gently at Errol. "I'm not sure if you can do that; you're a victim."

"Then you shouldn't be talking to me," Errol grinned. "Clearly, something else is in the works."

"By rights, I shouldn't be here for this," Andy admitted. "I doubt anyone could compel me as a witness, and anyway, I've ducked worse tangles than this one."

"You aren't even here," Salina affirmed.

"Let me offer the sum of the hints," I volunteered. "Mr. Hasslermund... James... wants to plead guilty, to everything. His attorney will know the best way to do that. Part of it will be whether the charge involving you is assault or attempted murder."

The wolf held up a forestalling paw. "A single question: Did you all experience what I felt this afternoon?"

Salina nodded. "That's part of what the three of us are offering as testimony. James expressed a regret and remorse that made all of us cry."

Errol nodded carefully, mindful of his healing injuries, and spoke as if to the court. "We had a disagreement, and he struck me. A rash act, I'm sure, but he didn't really know how hard he'd hit me."

"If I were here," Andy snarked gently, "I'd say that's a good witness statement. Truth is, you might elect not to press charges, which should prevent the DA from including them at all. That will depend on what Whitson will work out."

After a moment, the wolf asked, "What will happen to the stone, the jewelry? I suppose it's evidence."

The 'coon rose from his place. "I'm gonna go outside for a smoke."

"I didn't know--" Salina cut herself off. "Yes, of course. Thanks for your consideration."

"My pleasure." Andy gave her a gentle smile and padded out to my back porch, closing the sliding glass door behind him.

"As a CSI on the case," I began, "I'm really breaking rules to tell you that Bridgette was... forgive me, no easy way to say this. She was strangled, probably with her own necklace."

The specifics were news to the three of them, and they all cringed.

"I'm sorry. It must make it harder to find any forgiveness for him after hearing that."

Heaving a deep sigh, Quinn said, "He had lost his mind. That wasn't the James we knew. What we saw in the hotel room, at the end of it all... that was James, deep down. He wasn't able to share that much emotion with us before; perhaps if he had, this wouldn't have happened."

"We had no idea how much he was hurting from all this," Errol agreed. Swallowing hard, he made a visible effort to say the words. "He killed Bridgette. He attacked me. I think I have some understanding of why, and that's the first part of being able to forgive."

Salina nodded. "I think grieving will come first, for Bridgette, even for the bond that we shared." She gave a sad smile to the wolf and fennec. "I hope you still feel it, between the three of us."

"Absolutely," Errol affirmed, and Quinn also smiled and nodded.

"You know," I said slowly, "I might be able to help with that."

I reached into the deep pocket of my pants and slowly withdrew a plastic bag. I usually keep several on me, like most CSIs do. This one contained four items of jewelry, and I passed them to Quinn, who sat nearest me. He took the bag, which was printed with a standard EVIDENCE form on them, and looked his questions at me.

"There's no writing on there, and it's not sealed. In this case, it's just a bag."

"How did...?"

"At first, I was going to collect them as evidence. After what I'd seen, I wasn't even sure that I could collect the stone. It was Whitson who looked at it all and said, 'Those were never here.' Andy obviously was too busy with Mr. Hasslermund to have heard that."

"Obviously," Errol grinned.

"Why would he do that?" Salina wondered aloud.

"Forensic evidence is less important, when there's a full confession and allocution. Not unimportant, mind you, but less. My guess is that Whitson will have his client admit to -- again, forgive me -- the strangulation, but that he doesn't know what happened to the chain he used. That's a true statement: He doesn't know. It's also my guess that Mr. Hasslermund truly doesn't want the story about the stone to come to light."

"You're right," Salina said as Quinn nodded. "When you were out of the room, he told us how sorry he was that our story might come out, and he wanted to keep it secret, if there were any way to do it."

My turn to nod. "That's what Whitson meant. He must have some alternative..."

"Jealousy," Errol affirmed, getting his story straight. "That's what we argued about when he hit me. I didn't understand why he seemed so upset when he came to see me. He must have been truly terrified by what he'd done to Bridgette, but I didn't know that at the time."

"That should work," I said. "Meanwhile... these are yours and, officially, no one knows anything about them."

Quinn first withdrew a ring made for a woman, passing it to Salina. She held it carefully in her hand, but she didn't put it on yet. The fennec passed the larger ring to the wolf who, like Salina, simply held it, not quite believing it. Taking the hair cuff into his forepaw, the songwriter also clearly did not understand what he was seeing.

"That's how I found them," I said quietly. "James kept his ring, but there was no part of the stone in it."

"If into five, why not three?" Quinn looked at his hair cuff carefully. "The stone is larger, yet it fits into the original setting."

"That's what I don't understand," Salina said, wonder in her voice, and then she snorted softly. "Why should it surprise any of us?"

Errol slid the ring onto his finger and touched his lips to the stone. "Welcome home, my friend."

Salina and Quinn each did something similar before donning their jewelry. The gestures were deeply moving, and I could swear that I saw a kind of glow surrounding them, each and all, separate yet connected.

"I was wrong," the fennec observed. "Not three. Four." He withdrew the necklace, from which depended the final piece of the stone.

"For Bridgette," Salina whispered softly.

"Are we to find someone new?" Errol wondered.

"I think perhaps we already have." The fennec looked first to his soul-friends and then to me. Smiles appeared on the faces of all three, and Quinn extended his forepaw to me, offering the necklace.

"Me?" My ears went up in surprise, my eyes felt wide. "How could...?"

"You brought us Bridgette," the fennec said. "You found her at the state park motel. I heard her when you spoke her words."

"That was what I felt, even before you spoke them." Salina leaned forward in her chair to regard me more closely. "I tried to will that confidence to you, to encourage you to speak. James needed to hear them. To hear you... and her."

"And you brought me back, too." The wolf raised his forepaw to show me his ring. "With this returned to me, I have a powerful sense of you at my side in the hospital. Did you speak to me?"

"Yes, of course," I said quickly.

"No. I mean did you speak to me? Or perhaps, did I speak to you?"

Caught out, I explained, "I've experienced someone's spirit being outside of their comatose body. Your spirit... you... asked me to look for your ring. You also said what Bridgette had told me."

"Save our souls." Errol's eyes were deep and warm. "It's something dreamlike, not quite a memory. Yes, Naomi. The necklace is yours."

Quinn and Salina echoed him, and the fennec leaned a little closer to me. While he still held the chain, I took to stone into my forepaw to look at it more closely. My CSI training warned me of "trace," from fur and fiber to epithelials and even blood on the chain.

I would not do that to you.

My breath caught as the words, or rather the sensation of words, coursed through me. Group hypnosis, a desire for wonder, being caught up in some cultish idea... any number of rational explanations. Only one not-so-rational explanation felt right to me. I bowed my head a little, and Quinn placed the chain around my neck, taking care for my ears and headfur, until I felt the gentle weight of it. It felt good, like something that "fit" me. I couldn't, and still can't, explain it any better than that.

"Light lived is the dream made real," I whispered. "I try to remember that."

"You try to live it."

I looked at Salina, first with great surprise, then with something nearer to recognition. I found myself chuckling softly. "Is there a slower gear to this?"

"I think I know what you mean, Naomi," the large gray wolf rumbled softly in his chest. "You can't not think about it, but maybe we can help you to not worry about it. First, we..."

Conversation halted as we all heard Andy tapping a claw gently on the sliding glass door. Errol nodded gingerly, and I waved the raccoon back inside. While he was tending to the door, I slipped the stone and necklace down inside my shirt. Salina grinned at me, then to Andy. "Did you enjoy your smoke?"

"Not something to make a habit of," he smiled back. "Might be bad for your health."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The evening began to wind down quickly after that. We all felt tired after the day's adventures. Salina told us that the management of the hotel near the hospital had called; after the police had left, they saw to getting her things transferred to another room. She offered Quinn the space to share. We agreed to meet again for breakfast, and the sharing of contact details would be worked out between us. Andy made sure that Errol and I would be okay until morning, then took our other guests out to his car. The wolf was fully ambulatory, simply being encouraged to sleep more or less sitting up tonight and with someone nearby in case any symptoms manifested during the night.

I made sure that he would be comfortable and knew where everything was. We sat again at the dining table for a last cup of tea before sleep. He took my forepaw into his and spoke softly.

"By this time next year, or perhaps even sooner, we'll all book a spot at Hotel Esposito. I want to recapture that feeling with them, to experience it with you. Also, you live much nearer to me than Salina and Quinn, so I hope you'll come visit the cabin again soon, and as often as you like."

His forepaw squeezed mine, and I returned the gesture. "In the meantime," he continued, "I promised you a way to stop worrying about things. I suggest that you start with a good night's sleep. I expect you could use one. We'll all meet tomorrow for breakfast, and we can talk more about it then."

Chuckling softly, I touched the stone through my shirt. "I don't know how to feel. I'm frightened, excited, suspicious, confused... This belonged to, was given to, a vixen who gave so much of herself to the world through her words. Bridgette Dunne shone like a goddess in her own right..." I held up a forepaw. "Okay, maybe just a tiny bit of exaggeration there."

Errol chuckled with me. "That's your love of her talking, Naomi, and it's beautiful. That's a lot like how we feel about her. It's a big emotion, so you've used big descriptions. I can understand that." He patted my arm tenderly. "I can also understand how feeling overwhelmed can make us feel tired. Let's get some sleep. You've raved about that breakfast spot so much that I'm really looking forward to it."

"I promise that I haven't exaggerated how good they are."

We stood, and the great gray wolf provided a hug warmer than any I'd had in a long time. He declared himself ready to sleep, and I bade him a good night before padding back to my own room. My nightly routine was comfortingly familiar, and I soon felt that sleep would not be nearly as difficult as I'd feared.

I usually sleep stripped to the fur, and that night was no exception; Errol was no cad. My only concern was whether or not to sleep wearing the necklace. I elected to take it off, setting it gently onto my bedside table. The stone still had that sense of drawing me in, much as Quinn's stone had when I first saw it in his hair cuff. There could be any number of sources for that emotional response, and I tried not to buy into them. Errol was right: Sleep was needed, and I felt more than ready for it.

This tale would never truly have an ending. For now, I will say only that I slept amazingly well that night and, when I woke, I remembered one particularly vivid dream. All I will say about it here is that it involved s'mores.