Free Thief of Always by Clive Barker

their presents (a mechanical dog for Wendell; a magician's kit for Harvey), said their goodnights to Mrs. Griffin (goodbye, of course, not goodnight, but Harvey didn't dare let her know) and then went to bed.
          The House grew quiet, and quieter still. The snow no longer sighed at the sill, nor the wind in the chimney. It was, Harvey thought, the deepest silence he'd ever heard; so deep that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and every rustle of his body against the sheets sounded like a roll of drums.
          A little before midnight he got up and dressed, moving slowly and carefully, so as to make as little noise as possible. Then he headed out into the passageway, and-slipping like a thief from shadow to shadow-hurried down the stairs and out into the night.
          He left not by the front door (it was heavy, and creaked loudly) but by the kitchen door, which brought him out at the side of the House. Though the wind had dropped, the air was still bitter and the surface of the snow had frozen. It crackled as he walked, however lightly he trod. But he was beginning to hope that the eyes and ears of the House were indeed closed at this hour (if not, why hadn't he been challenged?) and he might make it to the perimeter without attracting attention.
          Just as he was about to turn the corner, however, that sweet hope was soured, as somebody in the murk behind him called his name. He froze in his tracks, hoping the darkness would conceal him, but the voice came again, and again called his name. It was not a voice he recognized. Not Wendell, certainly, nor Mrs. Griffin. Not Jive, not Rictus, not Marr. This was a frail voice; the voice of somebody who barely knew how to shape the syllables of his name.
          "Harrr...vvvey..."
          And then, all of a sudden, he knew the voice, and his heart-which had been working overtime since he'd slipped out of bed-grew so loud in his ears it almost drowned out the summons when it came again.
          "Lulu?" he murmured.
          "Yesss..." said the voice.
          "Where are you?"
          "Near..." she said.
          He stared at the thicket, hoping for some glimpse of her, but all he could see was the starlight glittering on the frosted leaves.
          "You're leaving..." she said, her words slurred.
          "Yes," he whispered, "and you have to come with us."
          He took a step toward her, and as he did so some of the glitter that he'd thought was frost retreated from him. What was she wearing, that shimmered this way?
          "Don't be afraid," he said.
          "I don't want you to look at me," she said.
          "What's wrong?"
          "Please..." she said, "just...keep your distance."
          She retreated even farther from him, and seemed to lose her balance as she did so. She dropped to the ground, the thicket around her shaking. Harvey stepped forward to help her up, but she let out such a sob that he stopped in his tracks.
          "I only want to help," he said.
          "You can't help me," she replied, every word pained. "It's too late. You just have...to go...while you still can. I just...wanted to give you...something to remember me by."
          He saw her move in the shadows, reaching out in his direction. "Look away," she said.
          He turned his head away from her.
          "Now close your eyes. And promise you won't open them."
          He dutifully closed his eyes. "I promise," he said.
          And now he heard her moving toward him, her breath laborious.
          "Open your hand," she said.
          Her voice was near now. He knew if he opened his eyes he'd be face to face with her. But he had made a promise, and was determined to keep it. He put out his hand and felt first one, then two, then three heavy little objects, cold and wet, dropped into his cupped palm.
          "This was all...I could find..." Lulu said, "...I'm