He turned.
A man sat on a bench near the cemetery path, about twenty feet away. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Unremarkable features.
He wore a bow tie covered in cacti wearing party hats.
“Noah,” Greg said.
“Hello, Greg.” Noah smiled. “Hello, Dustin.”
Dustin’s gaze moved between them. “You two know each other?”
“We’ve met,” Greg said. “He’s the one who had my clipboard on the highway.”
“The man with the rubber ducks.”
Noah let that pass without comment as he rose from the bench. “I was hoping you’d come tonight. Though I admit I expected you earlier.”
“We had a long day,” Greg said.
“Yes, you did.” Noah’s gaze moved to Greg’s bandaged hands and lingered. “I see you went through with it.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You had many choices. You made this one.”
Noah said it without judgment. A simple observation.
Then he looked at Dustin. “Would you mind if I spoke with Greg privately for a moment?”
Dustin’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Noah raised one hand and made a small gesture, almost as if turning the page of a book.
The world went still.
The breeze stopped. The bird mid-call went silent. The flowers froze mid-sway.
Dustin stood beside Greg, motionless. His eyes were open but fixed, caught between one blink and the next. His hand, which had been moving toward Greg’s arm, hung suspended in the air.
Greg stared. “What did you do?”
“Borrowed a moment.” Noah put his hands in his pockets. “He’s fine. He won’t know it happened. I thought you might appreciate the privacy.”
Greg looked at Dustin’s frozen face.
Even motionless, he looked like he was about to argue with someone.
“He’s not going to like this.”
“He won’t know.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t dislike it retroactively if he finds out.”
Noah’s mouth twitched. “Noted.”
Greg turned back to him. “The demon isn’t coming, is he?”
