I way preferred having Jack in the stands with me during a football game than watching him play, even though he had been a fine specimen to behold. I could tell by the way his body shifted with every play that he missed the sport. I was happy, anyway, and snuggled in close to him, risking the occasional elbow he threw when reacting to the action down on the field.

Penny was a nervous ninny the entire first half watching for Marik, who was late. Jinky — off taking photos — had reported earlier that he was “on his way.”

When it was time for the members of the court to assemble pre-halftime, Penny started down the bleachers with a nervous backward glance in my direction.

“He’ll show,” I called down to her. “He said so.”

Just as the court began their procession onto the field, I caught sight of Marik hotfooting it to catch up with them. Had I not known he was razor-edge close to missing the whole show, I wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss. And if he still wasn’t feeling well, he sure didn’t show it. He carried out his escort duties with grace and ease as he smiled and waved pleasantly when his own name was called. He got a big cheer from the crowd, as big as John’s, I’d have guessed.

Our team, contrary to the vitriol shouted at the Asking Fire, did not destroy Pinewood. Sadly, it was the reverse. With a twenty-one to three victory, Pinewood high-stepped it off the field while our Falcons hangdogged their way to the locker room.

Postgame, while we lingered in the commons area near the concessions, Jack got pulled into a Homecoming photo of past players. The moment he headed off to the field, Marik appeared at my side.

“May I talk to you?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied.

“In private.” He grimaced as he said this.

I led the way to the side of the snack stand. Behind me, I could hear Marik’s labored breathing.

“What’s going on, Marik? Are you OK?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not well,” he said, grabbing at his front below his ribs. “I’m in pain and feeling weak.”

“What do you think it is? Can you see someone for it? You know, a doctor?”

“I don’t need to.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I know what it is. Something happened at the Asking Fire.”

“Yes. I know. A presence invaded. Thank God for the storm, or else —”

“No,” Marik interrupted. “The storm is what happened.” With this, he winced.

“You’re confused,” I said. “The storm chased the evil away.”

“The evil,” Marik said, “was too distant and too crude to affect me. The rain, the cold, however, its icy core . . .” Marik closed his eyes as if the memory was too much. “I knew of your mission to Brigid’s Niflheim and what, or who, rather, you sought to recover.”

“Jack,” I said plainly.

“Our mistake was to underestimate his effect.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am water.” Marik dropped his head. “Jack freezes water. We are not a good combination. His recent . . . display . . . has been most detrimental.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not of this world. I was never meant to be here permanently. This incident has impacted my viability. I am, I fear, out of time.”

When the realization of what his being out of time meant for me, for Leira, I gasped.

“But if you have to go . . . ?” I asked.

“Then my mission is coming to an end.” With this pronouncement, Marik doubled over as if clubbed by a sudden spasm of pain.

In a weakened state, he braced his right arm on the wall, reaching over me to do so. In reaction, I reached up with both arms to support him, my fear being that he’d collapse to the ground without assistance.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, stepping around the corner of the concessions hut.

A warning look glinted in Marik’s eyes; with this brief prompt, I was reminded of the gravity of our pact.

“Nothing,” I said. “Marik’s not feeling so great.”

“But why are you back here?” Jack’s voice registered mistrust.

“I followed him when he didn’t look well.”

Jack gazed from me to Marik and back to me. Marik, in the meantime, recovered enough to stretch to his full height.

“I. Am. Fine,” Marik said, passing us and heading back toward where we’d left the others.

Watching him go, I shuddered.

“What’s wrong? You look upset,” Jack said. He took my arm at the elbow.

“It’s nothing,” I said, pulling away gently.

“You are. You’re upset. Did he do something to you? Say something to you?”

“No, of course not.”

“There’s something. I know there is.” He held me by the shoulders.

“I was worried for him; that’s all. He was late tonight, and Penny’s counting on him for the dance.” I pulled myself together, drawing on the pressure building in my chest and directing it toward the bluff I was presenting for Jack. “I just want to make sure he knows how important tomorrow is to Penny, that he doesn’t bail on her.”

Jack looked as deeply into my eyes as he ever had, searching, penetrating. I steeled myself against his figuring it all out. He could. I knew he could. He was so confoundingly close to splitting me open. But he didn’t. Instead, he took my hand gently and pulled me toward the commons. Marik, I noticed, was gone. When the first moment presented itself, I excused myself for the bathroom.

En route, I found Jinky talking to Shauna — huh? — and pulled her aside.

“Are you up for another field trip tonight?” I asked.

Jinky looked side to side, making sure we were out of earshot. “Does it have to be tonight?”

“Yes.”

“When?” she asked with a small sigh of disappointment.

I told her where to be and when and then took my fake trip to the restroom. Rest. Ha. Not likely anytime soon.