Mick was leaping around the room, grazing the dogs with his lightsabre and telling anyone who would listen that he was Qui-Gon Jinn and where was that Darth Maul eejit. Elmore had managed a pretty fair improvisation of Jar-Jar Binks' get up but he couldn't seem to keep the head on without bursting into laughter. Ryan was practicing his Bela Lugosi imitation and swirling his long cape in a creditably theatrical fashion. That left our Queen Amidala to finish up.

Ryan yanked his cape up over his face and flipped me off with the hand that was visible.

Bill entered the room, scrubbing at a stubbled face. It was the first we'd seen of him all day and he looked like the dog hadn't stopped at biting him. He looked mauled.

Jade and I had discussed it endlessly as we prepared for the evening. Ryan blind was a weekly occurrence but Bill in such condition was new to us both. I'd seen him buzzed and I'd seen him cross-eyed, but I had never seen him immobilized. The sight of Elmore guiding him out of the Corner had haunted me all day. What was happening to him? And why was it choosing now?

Nuala set up a howl that disrupted the application of the red spots on her cheeks. Jade sighed and prepared to cold-cream them off and start again. I held my ground with the hair and was only marginally successful.

More yelling. Jar-Jar Binks loomed over the miscreant, as did Dracula. Bill looked up, the picture of unconcern.

Jade and I stood in the center of the room, sorting out angry children and convulsing men. Bill was probably one of the few people on the planet who was completely unfamiliar with the most recent Star Wars installment. To him, Star Wars was some fuckery of Ronald Reagan's.

I was just anchoring the pigtails to the collar of Nuala's robe. Elmore--always Elmore--had rigged an ingenious device of thin wire to a plastic headband, rigid enough to hold it's shape and thin enough not to be noticed. We had done a practice run the night before and came up with a passable version of the elaborate headpiece. Nuala was loving it.

Qui-Gon quit his acrobatics on stern orders from Dracula. Apparently the banthas… er… dogs… were overly excited and the noise disturbed the Count's delicate equilibrium. The mini-Jedi joined the pocket-sized Monarch in staring at Bill.

Bill drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair. He was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea--he had one of the world's worst headaches, but there were two blameless children begging for his company. He would get no relief either way.

This was a new concept.

Jar-Jar and Dracula concurred. Bill raised his chin and stared at me.

Phillippe was our cook--he wanted us to refer to him as 'Head Chef' but every time we did we broke down laughing. Once in a while someone would pinch hit and make french fries--it was as close as he came to having the kitchen assistant he really needed. Elmore felt perfectly comfortable leaving him in charge now and again but invariably we found him in the middle of a Gallic shit-fit when we did.

Jade and I had discussed staying home to hand out candy. We knew we could disarm the security and figure out a way to guide the trick-or-treaters to the house, since they'd be in cars anyway. But the spectre of Cole was a real one and Jade didn't want to be the one answering the door with a gun in the waistband of her sweats. So we had reluctantly given up on the idea of trying to give candy out and had decided to go on in to the Corner instead.

Bill nodded, apparently liking my answer.

Jade scrambled the dark hair.

Nuala shook her head emphatically, causing me to lunge at her, to rescue her hair.

Jade went scarlet and I stuffed my knuckles in my mouth. If we laughed now he would go ape-shit and never leave the house.

Elmore reached up and waggled Jar-Jar's ears at Bill.

Nuala became the Stubborn and Potentially Angry Little Irish Girl.

Bill headed her off on the pass, rather neatly, I thought.

The ceiling became a most fascinating thing. So much so that it caused me to start whistling.

Bill pushed himself to his feet and it hurt to see how stiff he was. I knew from the night before but had hoped a day to rest would give the battered body a chance to recuperate. Bill's libido had run away with him, as it seemed to when he was juiced. I was as unable to withstand him drunk as I was when he was sober and I had ignored his clumsiness, rising to him as always. He had groaned deeply, eased his shoulder, then fallen asleep against me. He warned me back with a quick look and then headed for his jacket.

Ryan hissed and did the thing with the cape again.

Bill returned with his jacket and shrugged into it. I could only guess how much it hurt him not to act as though it hurt him.

Yes, Bill. Yes, Bill. Yes, Bill. Jesus.

The children were hopping monotonously in place. Bill eyed them until they stopped. Teddy bear, eh?

Ryan parked the truck in the familiar driveway--Three would be joining them and possibly Two as well. Whey the hell a 14 year old who stood well over six feet would want to trick or treat was anyone's guess, but it appeared he might. Bill looked at the little blue house, ruefully nostalgic as the thought of the times he'd driven, or flown, hours on end just to bail the idiot Punk out of some shit or another… or just to be there. A cheapass Escort sat in the garage where Bill had put the Suburban so many times.

Three tumbled out of the garage, pillowcase for loot in his hand.

Three grinned blindingly at Elmore--he'd liked Jar-Jar Binks when he saw the damn movie, like most kids.

The miniature and micro-miniature Jedis brandished their lightsabres at Bill.

Was this what he had to look forward to, Bill wondered. A huge shadow blew past close enough for Bill to feel the breeze.

The Corner was full of costumed adults. Elmore and Ryan would have blended in beautifully. The other person tending the bar with me, Michelle, was a weak-ass Elvira while our other waitress was a Teletubbie. Cori wore no costume herself, but she seemed to be enjoying the silliness even if he wasn't joining in. I caught her smiling at something other than Elmore's broad back, anyway.

He had come out of nowhere. For Halloween he was dressed as Lehman.

I put his beer and his shot in front of him.

Travis stopped, the shot halfway to his lips.

Bill ambled along behind the rest. Nuala formed the point of a phalanx, determined to accumulate as much candy as humanly possible before she gave out entirely. The two Qui-Gons brought up the immediate rear. Elmore stayed close behind, his goofy mask concealing watchful eyes. Ryan took a flanking position, his long cape sweeping the ground behind him. Bill glanced around him. Groups of small shadows ran past in the dark. Under the streetlights there was the occasional crowd, as bunches of children met to compare howls and parents took the chance to commiserate. Bill didn't feel the least bit conspicuous. He looked like every other shitass dad on the fuckin' street.

Bill dodged a school of truck or treaters. They parted, like water, to flow round them then came together to thunder off to regions unknown.

They passed under a streetlight. Ryan looked at Bill, heartfelt understanding in the depthless black eyes.

Ryan hesitated, not sure what, if anything, Mick or Nuala could hear. he finally leaned towards the vague end of the spectrum.

Ryan glanced at the two determined children and then back to Bill. He said nothing. It seemed there was nothing more to say.

Cori appeared beside her parole officer before I could angle away. I heard the tray rattle against the bartop before she finally brought it to rest. She didn't even spare Lehman a glance when normally she would watch him as closely as the mongoose watches the cobra.

He set the shot down absently and turned to the young woman. As he did so, Jade came up behind her.

I could see what a sacrifice that was. Jade looked exhausted and the night was far from over. One less body on the floor would mean everyone running at the limit to keep pace, but if we had to give her time, we would, if it meant she would eventually feel well enough to work again.

Lehman waved us silent.

Cori turned to look at Travis Lehman, and I suspect for the first time vaguely saw the big man as an ally, and behind Lehman's stern expression there was a hint of compassion, maybe even empathy.

Lehman's angle was obvious even to Jade and me. Was this person someone out of your past, someone who might tempt you to backslide? If so, he would… well… it was hard to say, but Cori's departure at that point might be a foregone conclusion.

The girl was normally pretty close-mouthed, so it didn't surprise us that she had to search for a word. But in this case it was to find the right description instead of merely communicate.

The children had finally collapsed around eight thirty. Jar-Jar had carried a sleepy Amidala while the smaller Qui-Gon sagged against Dracula's shoulder. The larger of the Qui-Gon's had attached himself to Bill again.

Bill had a pretty good buzz on and was feeling vastly better than he had earlier. Three babbled endlessly as he always did. Bill finally wrapped a big hand around the boy's neck from behind, and tipped his face up.

Bill tipped the head back down and patted the boy on the top of the head. Qui-Gon offered Bill a miniature Snicker's bar. Bill accepted, also palming some Milk Duds, and a Reese's peanut-butter cup.

His voice was a comforting rumble. Cori turned to me but before she could speak, Jade tapped her arm.

Right in the dead center of the bar. Jade glanced my way before disappearing between Fred and Wilma Flintstone and Dr. Frank N. Furter. I put up a couple of orders for the Teletubbie and Jade was back, white to the gills.

My heart sank and I knew sending Cori back out to Table 65 would be like throwing a lamb to the slaughter. This girl was trying so hard to stay on the straight and narrow that it was painful to watch her. Cole could set her back immeasurably with that dead stare… if she needed a snootful of Dutch courage to go back out on the floor again, Lehman would be shipping her back to Shakopee within the month.

Then it really dawned on me, and horrified wasn't even the word. Everyone we relied on for muscle around Cole was away for the evening. Jade and I had to close. And even armed and pissed, we were no match for him.

I yanked the cellphone out of my belt.

Cori left the bar tray and slipped, wraith like, into the kitchen. I stared at the keypad for a minute. Did I need to call Bill, really? A smackdown, at this point, with Our Boy George would just about finish him up. Pissed and armed… were we truly that helpless?

I started to dial. Christ Himself only knew how many goons were within range of Cole's immediate influence. I didn't think too much about the last time he'd had me alone, but I knew in my heart there would be little difference between me alone and me with Jade. They would split up and we would both be pinned.

Bill ripped the cellphone out of his pocket at its first peep. Gaerity was singing 'Come on Eileen' along with the fucking radio. If that wasn't a fucking paint-by-numbers masterpiece--Dracula singing at the top of his lungs with Dexy's Midnight Runners. Bill reached forward and whacked Ryan across the back of his hard head.

The last was a crisp bark and I sighed, relieved, at the sound of it. I cut to the chase.

The phone disconnected and I tucked my cellphone away. Jade's expression was expectant. Lehman was merely curious.

That was deliberate. I dumped a shot of it into a glass, then decided 'what the hell' and banged the bottle onto the tray. Maybe the shit would poison him.

Jade wished me luck, then took my place behind the bar.

He grinned coldly, watching me transfer the whiskey from the tray to his table.

Cole reached out and locked his hand cruelly around my wrist. I stood stock-still. I knew better than to fight, because I knew how strong he was and how utterly unconcerned with hurting people seriously. Bill had been known to get me in headlocks, but always there had been restraint--his power was leashed. Cole made no such effort, and his strength was brutal.

And Bill was on the way, anyhow, shiteater.

Another cold grin. Unwillingly I flashed on a moment--pinned to the floor with that hand locked around my throat and those cold, snake eyes staring into mine. I shivered, and he deliberately mistook it for something else.

With a great effort I yanked my hand clear. At the last second he tightened his grip.

I wanted to say fuck you again, but instead I turned tail. I was so angry I was shaking and I didn't want to give Cole the advantage. It was like the Mongols coming in for a landing--a mixed metaphor if ever I had formulated one but it was.

Bill was at the head of the pack, a twin on either hip and Three running to keep up. He kicked open the door of the washroom and set the little ones just inside. Three got a shove and landed beside them.

Bill's eyebrow raised only briefly.

Three's expression turned rebellious. Bill was not normally so terse.

Bill's voice was a lash.

I stepped over to them and touched each child lightly with one hand. With the other I touched Bill and drew comfort from his immense strength.

Elmore tossed Three the Jar-Jar head and squeezed past everyone to the inner room. All the spare polos were kept there. He was stripping off his t-shirt as he went. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cori, incinerating french fries as she watched. Another one… damn, the power the boy had. I shoved him inside before Cori lost another batch and had Phil landing on her, but I shot her a thumbs up.

Ryan was bent over Phil's handwashing sink, scrubbing mercilessly at his face. He, too, was barechested but Cori was lost in reveries of Elmore, apparently. She passed Ryan a towel with scarcely a second glance.

Elmore came out in a polo probably a size too small--it was skin tight, his magnificent torso outlined in loving relief. He chucked a green security polo at Ryan and headed for the back room where we kept spare televisions, to be used as the need arose. He humped a television into the washroom, plugged it in, and helped me settle the kids. Bill had disappeared with Ryan into the barroom.

I felt safer once the door was firmly closed between the children and Cole. I headed for the floor. Elmore stopped beside Cori.

Cori blushed deeply, dropping her eyes to the sandwich she was constructing.

Cori had not been directly asked what her preference was since she'd been in Elmore's employ. Form the way she responded to the question, she might never in her life have been asked what she wanted.

Come on, spit it out.

I sighed. Good girl! It would keep her clear of Lehman.

Cori was clearly overwhelmed, but her face transformed when she smiled. She went from a dour, pale little thing to a girl of unexpected prettiness. All it took was a touch of animation.

Anyone else saying that would have been favored with an evil look, but all Phil gave Elmore was an exasperated grin. Elmore gave Cori an encouraging smile, then hurried past us into the barroom.

I left myself, knowing I would need to get myself onto the floor. Jade was already behind the bar. I grabbed a tray and an apron, and somebody grabbed me. I gasped and whirled around, only to find the one who had hold of me was Bill.

Damn! What was up with that? Would I ever stop?

I sighed, adding to my submissiveness. Probably not, if I knew what was good for me.

I nodded. Too many 'yes, Bill's' and I would go shoot myself.

Bill and Ryan made themselves very obvious the remainder of the evening. Candy-ass or not, Cole didn't seem at all willing to tangle with either of them. He left when we closed down and I forgot, in the hassle of cleaning up, that he was out there at all.

The kitchen had closed at eleven. Through cleaning by midnight, Phil and Cori had been gone for an hour. I passed through with a crate of empties to chuck into the recycle bin. A small crate. Bill was acting ridiculously--I put it down to exhaustion. When he was more himself, he would see sense.

Why the hell did this man scare me so? I turned to a shadowy corner near the door to the Washroom and watched him follow the sound of his own voice into the light.

He rattled the doorknob of the Washroom. I had set the crate on a sparkling stainless steel countertop and my fingers tightened around the neck of one of the empties it contained. If he got into that room, with those children, there would be pandemonium and another trip to Dr. Jake.

I kept glancing over my shoulder, hoping and praying for the sound of heavy footsteps or the sight of a big shouldered savior coming throughout he doors. I could make lots of noise around Cole, but if he decided to he would be able to do pretty much whatever he felt like. And it would feed into his plan for me if I fought him, though complete unresponsiveness wouldn't put him off, either.

Cole left the Washroom door and moved to stand in front of me. I'd seen his particular brand of grace and speed on more than one occasion. I knew that running and yelling were two things I might try that just weren't going to happen. I did the only thing left to me. I stood my ground. He gripped my chin in rough fingers, squeezed my face until my jaw hurt. He allowed his hand to trace a path down the front to my blouse to the waistband of my pants. I stood for the insult, quivering with outrage. I felt the big fingers at my waistband--before he'd put more than his fingertips inside it I lunged away. It was that or flash on the abandoned kitchen and become as capable of response as a rabbit in headlights.

Cole was knocked aside by something… someone… Bill, come from Christ knew where. He'd used the noise of the sound-system cranked with Jimmy Buffett, as a cover and he'd blindsided the man. It was the only advantage he had and it didn't take him long to lose it. Bill was totally out of reserves, he had nothing left. Only the fact that he was loaded with determination and had a will of iron kept him anywhere near in the fight.

My role was much less physical, that of handwringing Tess Trueheart off in the corner. And I hated it. He was going to great lengths to protect me. I felt like I should have been helping.

The fight progressed in typical fashion, lots of thuds and grunts and heavy breathing. Bill lost ground steadily until finally Cole had him bent back over a cutting board, huge hands around Bill's throat. He bore down steadily and this caused me, at last, to move my ass. I jumped forward and, having dropped the empty bottle my hand was free to grab hold of one of Phil's knives. I didn't know what to do with it, but I had the sucker.

Cole lost his footing somehow and released Bill just enough to slap his hand down on the cutting board and regain his balance. It was all I needed, and I didn't even need to think about it. I speared the hand and buried the tip of the knife in the solid oak. Bill sagged to his knees, gasping, but I was leaping clumsily for the kitchen phone--that would make sure that the 911 operators had the address for the police. But as I took up the receiver Cole wrapped his other hand around the knife handle and with a flick of his wrist, pulled it away, leaving a morbid trail of blood on the counter and down the front of his shirt and pants. He appeared not to feel it.

He bent down, liquid quick, buried the blade in the fleshy part of Bill's thigh and strolled casually out the back door and into the night.