The Baal was turned away from Bell, its eyes fixed on Marilyn. The fire burned brighter beside it. A single shove. He could do it; he could kill the Baal.

For a beat, everything seemed to stop. But only for a beat. Bell looked at the door.

The window shattered and a cacophony of cloak, feather, and glass exploded into the center of the room with a massive CRASH and a tinkling of shards. Bell yelped and leaped back in his chair, pulling his knees to his chest. Drip lay crumpled in a ball, wildly flapping his wings but moving nowhere. The flutter died and a feeble beak raised from the mass of broken black bird like a slow-scanning periscope. The lower mandible dropped.

“Thank you, Bell. Your debt is paid.” Drip collapsed, twitching.

Bell slowly put a toe to the floor and then stood. Marilyn lay still, murmuring quiet words for none to hear. None but the Baal.

He walked out.

Bell closed the door to the cabin behind him. A breeze caressed his arms and the back of his neck. His hairs stood on end in the cold. The sharp, dew-tinged scent of the needles of evergreens wafted on the breeze and settled on his tongue. Bell began walking across islands of dust under a sleeping sky of glittering stars. Ahead, the fig tree glowed in the mists of a watery vortex now frothing at its base. The Dog pranced to his side from under the house.

“I thought I'd run across you, Bell, here before the portal,” The Dog bull horned. “I did it, like you said. I read a book!”

His voice, normally so aloof for all its decibels, dropped suddenly with a grave sobriety. “You wouldn't believe the things it had to say.”

Bell looked down at him, but he was already padding back toward the house. The portal brightened.

“See you around, Bell,” The Dog called, smilingly. “And by the way, how about a good head scratch next time we meet?”

Bell checked the time.