“Every
night when she closed her eyes,” Raven says, to no one in
particular, “The Angel touched her dreams, a gentle brush one
night, a sharp prod another. He shaped them, moulded them, to bring
me to that house.”
He
looks around him, searching for the guide.
“Still
doesn't put me any closer to an explanation though.” He rubs his
chin in thought. “Why does the Angel want me here? Why go to all
that trouble?”
He
sits in contemplation for a few moments more, lost in thought.
Suddenly he leaps to his feet. “Only one way to find out,” he
declares. “Guide!” he shouts, “Get your coat, it's time to
move on.”
