"Look!" I yelled. "What about this?"
He turned to look at me.
After a long moment, he shook his head.
"I was afraid of that," he mumbled. "You were a towhead as a kid, weren't you? And now you're a towhead again."
"But my hair, Greek! It's turned white."
"Not white," he corrected despondently. "Yellow. It's reverted to youth—overnight, the way it happens sometimes. I warned you, Virgie. I told you there were dangers. Now you know. Because—"
He hesitated, looked at me, then looked away.
"Because," he said, "you're getting younger, just like me. If we don't get this thing straightened out, you're going to die of young age yourself."
I stared at him. "You said that before, about yourself. I thought you'd just tongue-twisted. But you really mean—"
"Sit down," he ordered. "Virgie, I told you that you were looking younger. It wasn't just looks. It's the demons—and not just you and me, but a lot of people. First Grand Rapids. Then when the hotel burned. Plenty have been exposed—you more than most, I guess, ever since the day you walked into my lab and I was trying to recapture some that had got away. Well, I don't guess I recaptured them all."