"You said you knew my parents?" What could he ask Pridament? What would a real friend of his parents know? "How did they meet?"

Pridament gave a gentle laugh. "How did they meet, or how did they discover they were in love?"

That answer kept Gwynn's fear at bay. The confidence in Pridament's tone, the knowledge there was a difference between the two things. Yes, he did know the story. But Gwynn wanted to hear it. "How they met."

Pridament shook his head, his smile widening. "Now I have to wonder, what version have you heard? I can't imagine you were told the whole story."

A pained laugh escaped from Gwynn. "Jaimie gave me the uncensored version a few years ago."

"Fair enough. So your dad, he was at York University at the time. That's where he and I met. Both of us drifting through a general BA 'cause we had no idea what to do with our lives. We were at the Absinthe Pub in the Winters residence. The place was dark wood, dingy, a hangout for arty types. We were only there the one time. I think maybe because everywhere else was too busy. Anyway, your dad, he's had more than his fair share of beer. This girl walks into the bar— "

"Mom."

"Hey, kid, who's telling the story? But, yes, your mom walks into the bar. She is wearing this little black dress that has, uh, well— let's say she looked good. So your dad, catching sight of her, jumps up on a table and starts reciting some of the worst poetry I've ever heard. I mean, I don't know if he wrote it, or read it in some bargain basement book, but wow, it was cheesy. Now, he's not just saying it— he's performing. He's got his hand over his heart; he's reaching to the Gods screaming thanks they have brought this beautiful creature to earth. Anyway, your mom isn't impressed. If anything, she's pissed." Pridament laughed full on, tears streaming down his face. He had to stop and take the odd breath between words. "So, your dad gets a little too energetic in his performance, and the table falls over, sending him falling on his ass. But he's so drunk— he doesn't notice. He gets up on his feet, saunters over to your mom, and plants a big kiss right on her lips."

"And she...?" Gwynn loved the punch line.

"Kicked him so hard in the nuts he puked all over her."

Gwynn's body convulsed with his laughter. "I can't believe they ended up together after that."

"Well, it took some time, and your dad could be quite the charmer. When he was sober."

They laughed for a while.

Pridament quieted, sadness creeping into his eyes. "I should've done more. I shouldn't have let that relationship go. I transferred to another school to pursue medicine. Your dad stayed for law. We talked a little, traded the odd email over the years, but we never were as close as we could've been. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks." His parents. When would remembering them get less painful? "Go ahead."

"Go ahead?"

Gwynn gave a little shrug. "My arm. Look at it. If there's something wrong, I'd rather be here with someone who knew my parents. Besides Jaimie, that's as close to family as I get."

"Jaimie's been here every day. I'm sure something came up."

"I'm sure she has. Probably work. Seems they can never go a full week without her going in."

Pridament drew a breath. "Okay, here we go."

The bandages went right up to Gwynn's fingers. Pridament maneuvered around, searching for the best place to start. He ended up cutting from the elbow down. Pridament eased the wrapping up a little to move his scissors along. The tender skin howled and burned with the new irritation. Gwynn panted, trying to ignore the arm.

"I'm almost there. Hang on another second."

As Pridament promised, the tugging and pulling soon ended.

Gwynn couldn't— wouldn't— look. His fear heightened when Pridament let out an involuntary "damn."

"What is it?" He kept his eyes averted.

The visitor's chair groaned as Pridament flopped back. The man sighed. "It means we need to have a long talk."

He didn't want to see. But the unknown suffocated him more than any truth he could imagine. He turned his head to inspect his arm.

It took everything in him not to scream.

Something, or someone, carved his arm up. It remained intact but covered in odd symbols from his elbow to his fingers. They were like nothing he'd seen. Combinations of shapes and foreign looking letters. It reminded him of the heady math equations geniuses solved in movies.

"Why..." His voice a wreck of fear, anger, and tears. "Why would anyone do something like that?"

Pridament took his hand again. The same sense of calm, no, security, emanated from it. "No one did this to you, Gwynn. This is your body reacting to something inside of you."

"Inside of me?" Gwynn was incredulous. "What could be inside of me that would do this shit to my arm?"

With his free hand, Pridament rubbed at his temples. "I'm going to tell you, but you won't believe me at first. No one ever does. If you trust me, if you give me time to show you, I will prove everything I say is true."

The fight drained from Gwynn's body in a rush. Sorrow took hold. An impetuous decision, chasing after something he had no right to claim, had left him scarred again. At the age of seven, he trespassed on the old Wilson farm and sliced his abdomen on the barbed fence. Being impulsive, crossing over into worlds you had no right to be in, led to pain and scars. But how did scarring like this happen? If Pridament had the answers, would it clarify the cloudy nightmare Halloween night had become?

"Tell me what you know," Gwynn's words were slow and labored, "I'll give you a chance."