Again, there was no voice. Instead, she put pictures in my head. Or pulled them out from there to show me, whichever. Either way, I took a tour through the past several years, not missing a minute. I'd as soon gloss past it all now, but to understand what was going on, you need at least the budget version of the tour.

So come on. You could, with some thought, probably piece this together for yourself; I've already given you the major elements. Don't suppose you're likely to spare me, though, huh.

Alright. I can even pinpoint a start for you. Remember the looks like he's in a band bit? Make that, WAS in a band. A damn good one, too; and that's not just me talking. We were getting Interest, like, Cleopatra interest, Nothing Records interest.

Two years back, Detroit. Badshroom 23 had landed a mini-tour opening for Switchblade Symphony, and we were going good. People liked us so much, we wound up at an afterparty where the lines were free for celebs like us, and wasn't that just why we were in it? Or so we thought.

Now maybe I'm nave, or just getting old, but I thought it'd be blow they were laying out, really I did. Soon as I figured out not, I stopped - I just don't like the white horse. But Ricki and Zig, they did. A lot. So much they were sure they could perform much better on it. So what the hell, I said, give it a shot. Not meaning the pun.

And I gotta admit, the next few shows were like none we'd ever done. Ricki could pull some scary shit behind the mic as it was; now he was dreaming the whole audience in with him. And Zig's bass lines turned liquid and golden. The whispers about us got louder, and I liked that. We all did.

So I thought I'd be smart, see to it that the vibe kept building. Didn't know that wave only crests once, early, and it's all low tide from then on. I know it now. But then - I just knew that whatever made my vox and bassist play like that was worth whatever trouble it took to procure. And I was ready, willing and able to go to the trouble.

Now Ricki was always the social sort, and it wasn't long before he had one or three of his girls wanting a taste too. No prob, my man downtown don't mind selling to me in bulk, now that he knows I'm no narc. And next thing you know, I'm in business.

Pretty soon, we were gigging less, practicing less. But I was still out just as often as before. People got to know me at the clubs. Had a lot of visitors to the old van, worked out some interesting payment plans, you could say.

But while my boys were chasing our dream down their arms, I was weaving a new one. Days, I had my straight job; nights, I had my clientele; and between, I had - Diane.

I said her name, didn't I. The one who took body and blood from me. The one who could never hurt me enough for all the pain I put in her. Diane.

I lied to Diane. I told her I got a raise at work, that CDs were selling; told her whatever I thought up at the time. And she believed me, at first. Life was good for us. She wanted to settle down, do the family thing.. Hell, I wanted that too. I just thought I could have that and my other life as well.

Truth is, I don't know when or how I lost her, exactly. Maybe she found a wrinkled paystub; maybe Zig's girl Laurie came crying to her. However it happened, she found me out. And that was bad. Confronted me. Was it true? Was I dealing? Heroin?

You already know, and now so did she. I never saw her again after that night. Came back for her stuff while I was at work the next day, and that was that. It was only through one of Ricki's girls that I heard about her swelling waistline a few months later, and by then - well, by then it was way too late.

The band was mostly a memory at that point. Matt, the drummer, had gotten fed up with the never-ending party and walked. Ricki pulled a thirty-day vacation at the county expense. Zig - well, Zig got worse.

As for me, I thought maybe a bottle of Stoli was about the right shape to fill a Diane-sized hole, so I started putting one in every night. Which came to my boss' attention soon enough, and then I didn't have to wait for night anymore, just chuck it on in anytime.

Of course, that meant I needed some more customers to meet the bills. So I expanded my club rounds - raver clubs, the bars; hell, I even did a little business in the trendy yuppie nightspots.

You might wonder how I was able to be so active, and stay on the street. Have to say I cheated, there. The senses that should have picked up Jamie instead kept me ahead of the drug squad; and powers that should have been used for - good, I guess - made me hard to see, sometimes. If I didn't want you to.

I spent a lot of time in the gay bars. There, I found out I had more than one commodity to sell, and - well, money's money. Some of those old queens had plenty, and were happy to spend it on a little bit of danger in boots and mirror shades. They didn't even care that I still had a picture of Diane tucked in my chain wallet. Still do, as it happens. When I told Jamie I knew what it was like, though - I didn't lie.

So that brought me up to date. Living off pills, vodka, diner food once a day, if that. Keeping my regulars happy - make that supplied. Nobody in this equation was happy, least of all me. But it kept the visions mostly at bay, kept me from wondering if Diane had a dark-haired little bundle with starlight running in its blood. Until tonight.

Tonight, I just stared off to the east. It had been bad the last two years; slamming through it all again in a few hours was much, much worse. When it was over, I can guarantee I wasn't eight feet tall anymore. Hell, I was barely my usual five-seven.

But I didn't get time to lick my wounds. There was a stirring underneath the pines. I went to check on the kid, but he was already sitting up. I started to ask if he'd been awake long, but the look in his eyes answered for me. Unable to think what to do next, I just sat down by him. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

"So you know what the spirits want from you now?" he finally asked me. Didn't answer him right away. I did, I suppose, but hadn't moved it from cosmic revelation to rational thought yet.

"Tell me something, Jamie," I ventured by way of a reply, "and be str- .. be honest about it." I stared across the circle to the barely glowing coals. "What did you see tonight?"

"I saw you, mostly. I guess." He was uncomfortable; well, that made two of us.

"You walked over there, like you said," the kid pointed east, "and stood there for a little bit." I didn't ask him what I looked like, and he didn't offer.

"Then your wings kinda wrapped in around you, and you sunk down to the ground and sat there. For a long time." He hesitated again. "Crying."

Well, that figures. At least he was being honest about it. And if he saw the wings, maybe he got the rest of the package, who knows. It didn't seem important.

Jamie shrugged off the blankets, got up, and walked over to the remains of our fire. With a little poking and prodding, he got a small blaze going, stuck the coffeepot next to it. He started to walk back, then changed his mind.

"Steve," he ventured shyly, "come here a minute?"

I came over, slow and quiet. Jamie stood with his back to the fire, holding something in his outstretched palm. Couldn't see what.

"I remember what you told me," he began as I got up close to him, "but I think - I know - it's you that needs it."

With that, he reached into his cupped hand, where he held a small amount of dried petals. Looking down, I saw that there were three neat piles on either side of him.
The small fire, and the leftover trip in my system, just outlined blue wings for me. He took a pinch of the crushed flowers, then brought them towards me. A ghost of the third eye blinked reflexively, but his hand moved down, to my partly unbuttoned shirt.

With no trace of his usual shyness, he reached in and pressed the crumbled petals against my heart. My breath caught in my throat a moment; I swear they burned. So did my eyes (all three?) But at that, the rational thought part came clear.

I raised my head then, looked at him straight on. Saw him. With a wry grin, I shook my head, realizing how I'd been duped - here the whole time I thought I was running away, when instead I'd been just chasing the bait.

"Tell me something, Jamie," I said. "Anyone around here much gonna miss you if you're not around as often? I mean.." Realized I wasn't putting this well.

"Look kid. I want you to come back to town with me. It's not the fucking Ritz, but I've got a place with a spare room. Winter's coming sooner than you think, and where will you be then? The whole strip shuts down in what, three weeks, four?"

"Tell me something. Jamie." I was going to have to get over using 'kid' if I didn't want him to stay one. "Did you finish school yet?" He looked at the ground and shrugged.

"Well, I don't think we want to fuck around with enrolling you anywhere, but you can work on a GED. Yeah, I know, no fun, huh. But let's put it this way." I had to laugh at myself - me lecturing anybody on getting their shit together.

"You can stay out here. In a few weeks, the summer trade will be gone, and you'll have to move on. Nights will get cold, then days."

"Or you can get yourself a place to stay, warm, dry - hell, I might even have some food in the house." I grinned at him again. "Which will cost you getting a diploma and a real job somewhere."

Would cost me getting one too, I knew - I'd have to disentangle myself, but how long did I think I could keep that game going anyway?

"One thing, though." Had to do this, wouldn't be right otherwise. Wouldn't meet her requirements.

"If you do come out, it's just as friends. You'll have your own room, your own life. I'm not asking you to be - to do - anything for me. I can't."

He looked up, puzzled, a little hurt maybe, wanting to Ask Questions. But there was still electricity in our blood, and in a glance, he understood.

"So does that mean - never?" was all he said. I considered.

"No - I don't think never. But.. tell ya what."

I could See that I would have to keep distance between us. Give him room to find out who - and what - he was. Give me room too, actually. Since I'd been trying damn hard to forget my own answers to those questions.

"Let's say, whenever we come out here, ok. If you want. But back in town, no. How's that?"

The puppydog didn't like it, but I could see the one with wings underneath. And he understood. I didn't have to send any special probes out to know that.

I looked back to the spot where my vision teacher had been. The sky was getting lighter there, just above the treetops. I thought about just staying where we were - it was nice under the pine. But I didn't like leaving the van too long unattended.

So we scattered the fire, drained out the coffee over the coals. Gathered what we didn't feel like carrying into one spot to pick up later.

Last of all, I took down my circle: the mirror, the tiny cups, feathers and stones. The incense was all burnt away, and the flowers - well, I mixed some into the ashes, gave some to Jamie. I didn't need to take any myself, they'd already made their mark.

The hike back to my camp was long and silent. We each had come out of the night changed, in ways we didn't expect - which, come to think of it, is exactly what I should have expected.

Hard to say whose life would be touched more. I'd been more on the Path, once. Finding my way back wouldn't be easy, but at least I had some idea where it was. For Jamie, though, he was just starting out. Had no idea of that, or where it could lead him. Can't say I entirely did either, but at least I was a little further down the road.

That was another reason for keeping distance. Part of the road in front of me was starting him on his own path. I wasn't an expert by any means - most of what I knew, I'd stumbled on myself, and mostly by accident. But it was enough to give him some direction.

Direction. Suppose if all this was about anything, it was about that. The one I'd been going in, that he'd been going in, that neither of us should have been going in.

No, there was one more thing this was about. I knew, or saw, or remembered, that I'd blown it with Diane, and with the little one whose name and face I'd never know. But for whatever reason, I had another chance to do what I was supposed to. And that chance was leaning sleepily against my van, while I fished out the keys from the tent.

Morning was breaking over my shoulder as we crawled in to sleep. Day would bring a last cruise down the strip, to collect his few things from the tattoo shop, then back into town. And from there - well - I guess we'll see where wings of fire and ice can fly.