Free Unleashed by John Levitt

was, she looked at me sadly and said, “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. It’s about passion, you see.”
    Lou gave another short bark and pointed his nose toward the top of a nearby crag. A figure stood there, motionless, back toward me, long hair blowing in the wind. It stared out over the moor as I climbed toward it, oblivious to my approach. The slope was steep enough to get me out of breath, whether it was real or not. As I got close, I heard the last refrain of the ballad:
    May your heart be freed from sorrow.
May the heartbreak finally cease.
May you wake in joy tomorrow.
May you sleep tonight in peace.
    By now I was close enough to recognize Sherwood, even with her back toward me. She stared out over the film-set moor, hair swirling in the breeze. She was Cathy, waiting for Heathcliff to return. The only anachronistic detail was the familiar purple highlights in her dark hair. She, like Lou, was not part of this black-and-white world.
    “Sherwood,” I said quietly.
    She broke off her song but didn’t answer. For a long moment she was silent, then slowly turned her head in my direction. Her face was calm, but her affect was flat, as if she weren’t fully engaged with the world. Her light gray eyes, usually gleaming with animation, were now cool and reflective. I had to look twice before I could convince myself it was really her.
    “Mason?” she said.
    I moved closer.
    “It’s me.”
    She stared right through me as if I weren’t there.
    “Mason?” she asked again.
    I reached out to touch her arm but stopped at the last moment as Lou gave a soft warning growl. There was something uncanny about her, a noli-me-tangere quality. I withdrew my hand, took a step back, and spoke again.
    “Sherwood. Where are we?” Again, the long pause.
    “Come get me,” she said, ignoring my question.
    “How?”
    “You can’t.” She turned her head away from me and I could barely make out her words. “When I go. He must call me. When I go. You can’t.” This was making no sense at all.
    “Who must call you?” I asked. “Eli? Victor?” She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, except for “when I go” once again.
    I reached out for her again, ignoring Lou’s warning. I couldn’t just stand there trading cryptic remarks. But when I grabbed hold of her arm it was as if I’d seized an ungrounded power line. A bolt of energy shot through me. I was knocked to the ground, blinded, and it felt like every nerve was exploding out of my body. I lay there stunned for a second, until I heard the strains of familiar music echoing through the air. When I cautiously opened my eyes I was back in the Columbarium, lying on the floor. An elderly black man leaning on a cane was standing over me, face filled with concern.
    “Are you okay?” he asked. I got shakily to my feet.
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” I told him. “Just a dizzy spell. I get them sometimes.”
    “You sure?”
    “I’m okay,” I said.
    “Well, good.” He nodded gravely. “I’m the caretaker here.” Lou was standing quietly next to me, and he gestured at him with the cane. “Sorry, but you can’t have that dog in here. It’s not allowed.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” He looked at me like he knew I was lying and he knew I knew he knew.
    “I was just leaving,” I assured him. “Come on, Lou.”
    I walked out the door to the outside, a bit shakily. The world outside was bright with color, blues skies and green trees, a far cry from the black-and-white moor I’d been on only minutes before. I hadn’t a clue of what it had meant, but at least I’d have some time to mull it over, with Eli and Victor to help.
    As we got up to the van, Lou stopped stock-still and began to growl. Not his warning growl; this was a snarl of pure hatred. Before I could even think, forty pounds of teeth and claws and strength streaked out from behind the van and launched itself at us.

FOUR

    ANYONE WALKING BY WOULD HAVE SEEN ONLY a crazed pit bull launching an