"But what I wish cannot be, man of the mighty will. For you would not willingly journey through the veil. You are bound to this aspect of existence, as all the others were bound. But somewhere must be one who is not.... And so my quest must go on. Again—farewell...."
Once more she was slipping from him. And once more he could do nothing. Despite his frantic, violent inner struggle, he could make no sound or movement, could give no slightest indication of the purpose that drove him. He was imprisoned within a cage of flesh as unresponsive and immovable as stone.
She turned to Mulvaney ... held the crystal globe to him. Its pulsing quickened, it brightened. And Mulvaney fell, limp—empty.
Watching through his despair, Bryan saw Leeta stand hesitating. Slowly she glanced at him, as if somehow, throughout the weird proceedings, he had been at the back of her mind. Her small face seemed to hold a reluctance, a regret.
Then she turned and moved beyond his sight. And presently he heard the flapping of wings, drawing away, fading. Stillness closed over the park again.
Bryan felt the paralysis draining from him, more swiftly this time. It was as though his body had adjusted to it since the first attack.
He was straightening awkwardly, painfully, when he heard a sudden faint rustling of branches, followed by the sound of light running feet. A figure appeared in the open space before the pavilion, hurrying toward him. The figure of a girl. And then he recognized her. Joyce!
He felt a sharp surprise ... an unease. What was Joyce doing in the park?
"I saw what happened," she gasped breathlessly as he came up. Her face looked pale and strained. "Are you all right?"