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He is not dreaming! Demon or man, it is there, standing where his dream pointed him, waiting for him. It takes only a second to decide that he must go to it – if only to challenge it. He knows it is connected to the torture of Roslyn.

The cold air of the night jolts him fully awake as he steps out on the square pave stones that lead to the side garden. He grabs his housecoat tighter around himself and steps carefully through the dark as fast as he can. Roslyn is depending on him. He shoves aside the second thought: that the House is depending on him, too.

He thinks for a moment it might be gone, either because it was a figment of imagination, or because demons are just that exasperating. But as he races through the little gate he sees it has not moved. It turns its head to him as he nears, but otherwise, barely moves at all.

His feet bring him to a stop at the point where his thudding heart tells him the danger is greatest. The beast could strike him from this distance. "What are you?" he demands. "What do you want with Roslyn?"

The cloaked figure does not speak. Just like in the dream, he cannot see under its folds to tell if the face is human or not. It holds out a note to him in a gloved hand. The paper is blue-white in the moonlight. It is folded, so he cannot see what has been scribbled on it.

There is only a chance, he thinks. When he reaches out to take the note, he makes a grab for the hand. He intends to hold the thing only long enough to unveil it. But his effort is wasted. The hand and arm slip easily from his grasp in a motion that reminds him of liquid. He is left with the note and a strange, cold breeze. When his eyes find a focus there is only the statue of Mary in the garden. There is only the note in his grasp to prove this was not also a dream.

He unfolds it. To his utter disappointment it contains a very rough scrawl of only those same words: "The Rose."