“The religious school she went to, growing up, Ms. Wright said how all the girls had to wear a scarf tied to cover their ears at all times. Based on the biblical idea that the Virgin Mary became pregnant when the Holy Spirit whispered in her ear. The idea that ears were vaginas. That, hearing just one wrong idea, you lost your innocence. One detail too many and you’d be ruined. Overdosed on information.”

“You really have no idea, do you?”“No idea about what?” “How thoroughly you own me, Nightie Girl,” he said, leaning in to whisper this part in my ear. “And I know I love you enough to want you to have your happy ending.”

“Am I grave?', he asked. 'I had an idea I was grinning from ear to ear.''You look as if you were taking me to a funeral. If that's a grin, your ears are very near together.”

“For the record, Irish," he informed her tightly, just in case she got the wrong idea, "I kneel to no one.”

“She hissed, right there behind my ear, and I had the horrible idea she was spitting maggots into my hair. Why maggots were a problem when I was about to be dead, I didn’t know, but the idea completely grossed me out. “In the womb I heard you die, for no one lives when a banshee cries.” I wasn’t just going to die. I was going to be rhymed to death. That simply wasn’t fair.”

“Listen to me," he said, and to her dismay he stepped closer. "When I first met you," he said, "I had no idea you were one of us. How could I? But I knew that you were different than that phony friend of yours. Not just another pretty girl, but somebody special.”