I noticed new smells with every turn of my head. Was my own sense increasingly sensitive? More likely, my bond with Scrap deepened as he glued himself to my shoulder. His thoughts became my thoughts. His hunger my hunger. His keen nose spilled over into my own.

During the day I wrote, reverting to older habits. When the going gets tough the tough keep writing. I’d been someone else in my depression, letting my frantic lack of accomplishment rule and push me into a self-defeating loop.

I stared out the windows toward the river a lot, absorbing the life and routine of passing barges, and the venturesome few who took out sailboats or tried water skiing this late in the year. The honking of migrating geese invaded my soul with a restlessness my body couldn’t keep up with.

The damp grass and falling leaves smelled of sleep and quiet.

My thoughts wandered back over the events of my life. What could I have changed? Did I make the right decisions? Where did I go from here?

Gollum’s absence gnawed at me like a sore tooth.

A car backfired on Macadam Avenue. I jumped and crouched with my hands over my head.

Once more I was back in the chat room, reliving the reverberating door knocker on the portal that led to the Powers That Be.

“You ask a lot,” a reedy voice intoned as I stood before the high judicial bench. I thought the voice came from the huge creature hovering behind the panel. It alone did not sit in a thronelike chair. Maybe it was just too big for the available furniture. An occasional questing tentacle reminded me of the Cthulu demon on guard outside.

Scrap kept a very low profile close to the door. He looked like he wanted to flee, but as long as I remained, he had to remain as well.

His nose twitched constantly, seeking a whiff of danger.

“I ask for no more than what you want,” I told the court, forcing my fears down into a tight knot behind my heart. The same place where I bottled up my grief over my mother’s murder. “My home on Cape Cod is on neutral ground. Sacred in its neutrality. It has always been neutral since before the coming of humans to that land. You want it to remain neutral.”

“You are decidedly not neutral, Warrior of the Celestial Blade,” the booming bass voice flowed out of the deep hood on my left.

“I propose a compromise.”

Seven cowled heads turned toward each other, bent in some silent communication.

“Explain,” said a new voice, definitely female, with musical undertones and an accent that might have originated in Faery. This being sat dead center, more senior than the others. Her vote weighed more than all the others as well.

I addressed her directly.

“My father and his partner wish to buy the house from me and turn it into a Bed and Breakfast, a kind of an inn. They are neutral. Neither Warrior nor demon. They are normal, without power or interest in rogue portals. ”

The faery nodded in agreement. The others remained silent in their grim mysterious secrecy.

“But the energies around the house make it vulnerable to the opening of a rogue portal. It’s a kind of vortex that attracts ghosts, faeries, and demons. I have no fear of the ghosts or faeries. I do fear the demons.”

“Rightly so,” boomed the one on the end.

“I want protection for my father and his partner. I want your guarantee that no one will use the land to open a new portal. That no other beings will try to take over the land. It must remain neutral.”

“And what will you give in return? If we agree to this.”

At that moment I knew why Scrap’s nose twitched so incessantly. Danger didn’t lurk here. Nothing lurked here. It was absolutely sterile. No dust, no mold, no growing things. Not even cleaning fluid invaded this chamber. No smell at all.

To my world filled with tiny odors and bad smells underlying the sweet scents of trees and grass and flowers and animal musk, this place smelled more dangerous than a charging black bear.

Or a lurking Nörglein.

Abruptly, I fell back into the present. I made the right choice going to the Powers That Be. I’d never had any doubts about that. Especially since I’d sent Gollum away and refused Donovan’s proposal.

Things change, Tess. A year from now that might not be the right choice. Think about the victims of the Nörglein. Think of the upheaval in their lives. Think of the choices they don’t have, Scrap reminded me.

“I think about that every day. No woman should have to give her child to a monster. Not me, and not the victims of that horrible dark elf.”

I turned away from the churning, rain-swollen river that rushed toward the sea in its endless change that remained much the same.

“I’ve made the right choices. Now it’s time to get on with my life. I need to call Raquel Jones and the other victims I know about. I wish I knew how to contact Squishy. She should know about other victims. They need to talk to each other, make plans and preparations. But first I need to get rid of this cast.”

I’ll find an email address for Squishy. You make an appointment with Dr. Sean. Scrap dove into the computer as if it were the familiar chat room.

After being in a cast so long my leg looked shrunken, wrinkled, and hairy.

“It’s stiff but not painful,” I replied. Yeah, there were a couple of twinges at the extreme end of each manipulation. Not enough to complain about and risk having the cast put back on.

As if he read my lie, the good doctor smiled and began massaging the weak muscles. He winked at me as if he shared the secret. “If you don’t injure it again, you should be fine now. Ribs okay?”

“Never were much of a problem. Bruises heal faster than sprains and breaks,” I replied. But the huge bruise on my spine that I shared with Scrap was taking longer to fade.

I needed to give the right answers to Dr. Sean so I could put on socks and shoes and walk out of the clinic. If the physician would just let go and stop that heavenly massage of my foot.

I could get used to this.

“You’ll need physical therapy,” the physician said. He paused his massage long enough to make a note on his order forms. “If you promise to follow up with that and do your exercises, I think we’re done here.” He placed my foot back on the exam table almost reluctantly. “I’ll just sign off on your treatment and you cease to be my patient. Until the next time you do something self-destructive.” He half grimaced as he applied pen to paper.

“Do you think I’m self-destructive?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

“I think you’ve been depressed and not as careful as you should be. But I see improvement in the sparkle in your eye. It started the moment your brother and his fiancée walked into the ER.”

Gollum’s words came back to me. I couldn’t do it all alone. I didn’t have to. Was that part of the problem, just plain loneliness?

Dr. Sean cocked his head and looked at me with an appraising eye. “You do look a little pale though. Is your family feeding you right?” He ran a gentle finger down my cheek.

Anyone else and I’d have said he just wanted to feel the texture of my skin. My rational explanation was that he tested for fever and clamminess.

“I had a touch of ... of a tummy bug earlier this week. It’s gone now. I’m eating better.” Easier to explain my near coma and Scrap’s languish in the chat room as an illness rather than spill the very complicated truth.

“In fact, I’m eating better than I have for a year and a half.” I smiled brilliantly knowing that I still was not eating as well, or as much as I should. As Scrap healed, his appetite ruled mine less and less.

“Good. Wouldn’t hurt you to continue taking it easy for a few more weeks, rebuild the strength in that leg gradually. Use a cane if it helps. And do your exercises. Start with this one until you see the PT. Do it with both pointed toes and flexed foot.” He rotated the ankle in a full circle left and right. Then he handed me some paperwork. “You are officially dismissed and no longer my patient.”

That was the second time he’d used that phrase.

“Right.” I took the papers and read them carefully. Lots of strange codes indicating what he’d done today—mostly removed the cast, took new X-rays, and examined them. There was an order for his receptionist to make an appointment for me with physical therapy. No mention of massaging my ankle.

“Right. Then how about we do something about your eating and go to dinner tomorrow night?” He quirked a full smile.

My heart panicked. He wasn’t Gollum.

But I’d probably never see Gollum again. I needed to get out and ... and ...

Too soon.

“Okay.” I overrode my own arguments.

“Pick you up at six?” He handed me the spare shoe and sock I’d brought with me.

“Fine.” I pulled on the foot gear and lowered my pant leg to hide the ugly, shrunken, hairy leg. “My address and phone number are in your file.”

“I memorized them a year ago.”

What could I say to that? Instead of putting my foot in my mouth I let him help me down from the table and escort me all the way to the outside door of the clinic with his hand warming my elbow. “My receptionist will call you with the PT appointment. Don’t let that slide, Tess. You’ll be less likely to re-injure yourself if you work at strengthening and limbering those joints and muscles.”

And the glass door swung shut between us.

Now what have you gotten yourself into? Scrap demanded

“I accepted a date with a handsome, intelligent man,” I replied blithely.

I spotted Allie in the parked car. She’d been on her cell phone the whole time I’d been inside, talking to Steve and other people she wouldn’t tell me about.

“True, Scrap. Maybe I need a strong dose of reality now and then. Especially after I host a meeting with Raquel and three others in my living room tonight. We need to stop at a bakery for desert for them.”

He’s not Gollum, Scrap pouted, waving his cigar stub at me.

“No, he’s not. And I think that’s the point.” I slid into the car next to Allie, not nearly as happy as I should be.

“So what’s new with you and Steve?” I asked my friend, putting as much brightness into my voice as I could. Maybe if I pretended my heart wasn’t breaking I’d eventually convince myself it wasn’t and I could move on.

“Steve got a job offer in Hillsboro. I got a job offer at the community college not far from there. We’re getting married at Christmas! We both start work right after the holidays.” She whooped and threw her arms around me.

“I’m very happy for you. Do I get to be a bridesmaid?”

“Of course. I just wish you could find the right guy.” She paused. “One who’s unattached.”

“We’ll see. I have a date with a cute doctor tomorrow night.”

“Way to go, Sister.” She high-fived me.

“In two months you really will be my sister as well as my best friend,” I said somewhat awed.

“So, let’s go shopping for your matron of honor dress. Something lovely that you can wear again and again.”

“Then we’d better let Scrap pick it out.” Maybe that would brighten his mood. “Why aren’t you torturing me with the ugliest gown ever designed that costs way too much? That’s part of the ritual, sort of a test of how much I love you.”

“I’m buying you something lovely because I want you to love me after the wedding.”

Tomorrow I’d test that love to the limits by going off on my own, exercising my newfound freedom from the cast and do some investigative shopping.