"And these?" she said, flapping her wings, one great heave that sent currents of air across the room, that blew the loose frontispiece from *Alice in Wonderland* toward the fireplace grate. "You'll sort these out, too?" "What do you want from me, Mimi?" He was angry now. She hadn't spoken a word to him in weeks, and now -- "Cut them off, Alan. Make me into someone who can go out again, who can be seen. Do it. I have the knife." Adam squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he said. "Good-bye," she said, and stood, headed for the stairs. Upstairs, the toilet flushed and they heard the sink running. "Wait!" he said, running after her. She had her hand on the doorknob. "No," she said. She was crying now. "I won't stay. I won't be trapped again. Better to be with him than trapped --" "I'll do it," he said. "If you still want me to do it in two days, I'll do it." She looked gravely at him. "Don't you lie to me about this," she said. "Don't you dare be lying." He took her hands. "I swear," he said. From the top of the stairs then, "Whups," said Billy. "I think I'll just tuck myself into bed." Mimi smiled and hugged Alan fiercely. Trey's ardor came out with his drunkenness. First a clammy arm around her shoulder, then a casual grope at her boob, then a sloppy kiss on the corner of her mouth. That was as far as she was going to let it go. She waited for him to move in for another kiss, then slipped out from under his arm so that he fell into the roots of the big tree they'd been leaning against. She brained him with the vodka bottle before he'd had a chance to recover, then, as he rocked and moaned, she calmly took the hunting knife she'd bought at the Yonge Street survivalist store out of her bag. She prized one of his hands off his clutched head and turned it over, then swiftly drew the blade across his palm, laying it open to the muscle. She hadn't been sure that she'd be capable of doing that, but it was easier than she'd thought. She had nothing to worry about. She was capable of that and more. # They climbed into bed together at the same time for the first time since they'd come home, like a domesticated couple, and Mimi dug under her pillow and set something down with a tin *tink* on the bedstand, a sound too tinny to be the hunting knife. Alan squinted. It was the robot, the one he'd given her, the pretty thing with the Dutch Master craquelure up its tuna-can skirts. "He's beautiful," she said. "Like you." She wrapped her wings around him tightly, soft fur softer than any down comforter, and pressed her dimpled knees into the hollows of his legs, snuggling in. He cried like a baby once the pain in his hand set in. She pointed the knifepoint at his face, close enough to stab him if need be. "I won't kill you if you don't scream," she said. "But I will be taking one joint of one toe and one joint of one finger tonight. Just so you know."