"No, the hermit is the man we just left. Don't worry, I'm sure he won't disappear. We'll find him after I see what's going on with Jim."

"That man was the hermit?" Tiffany asked easily, an insight that sent a little zing of annoyance through me. There I was sweating and panting like Jim after the one time I'd made him run with me on the beach, and she wasn't even looking hot. "Are you sure? He did not seem like a hermit to me."

"Nor me, but he says he's Gyorgy Berto. I haven't checked his identification yet, but I don't see any reason for someone to lie about being him. He didn't seem to know who I was, or even that the amulet was on its way to be delivered. Which way?"

She pointed to the right. We ran down a narrow, lesser-used path around the far perimeter of a fenced area. Beyond it, in a bed of ferns growing in the shadow of an ancient oak tree, lay Jim, groaning and gagging. Rene was squatting next to the big black shape, out of range of the demon's vomiting but close enough to put his hand on Jim's back.

Rene looked up when we approached. "Bon. I had hoped when I saw Tiffany racing away that she would find you."

"All right, Jim," I said, stopping behind it, crossing my arms as I looked down to where it Lay groaning. "What is it this time? You're so faint with hunger that you can't stand up anymore? You want me to carry you to the nearest McDonald's, right? You're—"

Jim's back arched as the demon in dog form vomited violently.

Tiffany made little mewling noises, both of her hands over her mouth.

My irritation at what I had assumed was Jim putting on an act quickly turned into horror. The demon wasn't playacting; it was having a severe reaction to something. Ignoring the slimy results of the dry heaves now racking the demon's body, I knelt down and put my hands on Jim's head. "Oh, my god, whal is it? What happened?"

Jim's body shook. I stroked the big black head, using the drool cloth to wipe away the long tendrils of saliva that hung from its flews, "I—I—food. Was hungry. Over there."

Rene turned to look at the feeding station. A partially spread bale of hay sat next to a couple of long wooden troughs holding what I assumed was fodder for the deer and other hoofed animals.

"You ate something from the animals' feeding station?" I asked as Rene hurried around the enclosure to enter it. "What did you eat? Jim?"

The demon's eyes rolled back in its head as its body convulsed again. I swore, looking around for help, for a handy vet to miraculously appear and offer his services.

Miracles, I have had occasion to note, seldom happen when you want them.

"Tiffany, can you take Jim's back legs?" I asked, sliding my arms around the demon's big chest. "If Rene carries its middle, I think we can get it back to the entrance. There's got to be a vet who serves the park. Maybe he can help Jim."

Rene met us as Tiffany and I staggered around the fence. He stuffed a bulging handkerchief into his pocket as he wrapped his arms around Jim's sagging middle. "I took a little bit of everything. It is food for the deer, but it could be poisonous, yes?"

"I have no idea," I grunted, Jim's heavy weight pulling painfully on my back and shoulders. I had to keep blinking back tears that pricked behind my eyes, tears that I knew were ridiculous. Demons can't die. The form they take can be destroyed, but they themselves can't die. I didn't know quite exactly what they did if life was extinguished from their temporary body, but I suspected it wasn't anything pleasant. More to the point, I knew Jim loved its body. It had chosen a Newfie above all other forms because it thought them the most handsome of all sentient beings. While most demons chose a human form to appear in—humans being the most powerful of all the mortal world—Jim chose to become a dog, and I would be damned before I let that big, shaggy, lovable body be lost.

By the time we made it to the entrance, even Tiffany was red-faced and puffing a little. We set Jim down on a bench while I ran to the entrance booth, Tiffany alongside me to act as translator.

"Is there a vet here?" I asked, waving my hand toward the bench where Jim lay unconscious, Rene hovering protectively next to it. "My dog accidentally ate some of the deer food, and it's sick, very, very, sick. Can someone help us?"

Tiffany translated quickly to the woman taking money from visitors. The woman looked alarmed, craning her head to peer around me to see Jim, but I knew from the way she shook her head that her answer wasn't a good one. I spun around, scanning the area, praying for some sort of miracle even while I knew there was none.

Tiffany lightly touched my arm. "The woman, she says the vet comes to visit only on special days."

My stomach lurched. A couple of tears escaped my eyes to roll down my cheeks. I bit my lip, trying to push back the horrible knowledge that Jim's body was dying. I had to do something. I was its demon lord, for heaven's sake—it was my responsibility. I had summoned it, and although I had inadvertently bound it to me, it was my duty to look after the big hairy lug.

"Then we're just going to have to go find the nearest vet," I snarled, running back to Rene. We lifted the demon between us, hauling it out to the parking lot. Tiffany, who had returned to consult with the woman behind the entrance kiosk, ran past us to the car, opening the back door and helping us put Jim in.

"There is a veterinarian a few kilometers down the road," she said, sliding into the front seat next to Rene. "I will direct you."

Jim's head lolled senselessly on my lap as Rene drove. I gave up fighting the tears, stroking the demon's head, holding back sobs that made my throat ache. Crying wouldn't help Jim. Only a miracle, the miracle that had not materialized in the wildlife park, could help the demon now.

An hour later we emerged from the loud and somewhat antiquated confines of the animal health clinic mentioned to Tiffany by the wildlife park attendant. Despite the heat of the day, I felt cold, both inside and out. I rubbed my bare arms as we walked slowly to Rene's cousin's taxi.

"The demon Jim, he will be all right now," Rene said with mock cheerfulness that I knew was intended to impart reassurance. "The doctor said that would be so, hein?"

"I guess," I answered, not willing to burst Rene's bubble in case he really did believe Jim was out of trouble. What the vet had said, duly translated by Tiffany, and later Rene when Tiffany couldn't stand the animal surgery area, was that the vet thought Jim had ingested a toxic plant or berry, but wouldn't know until they analyzed the results of the stomach pumping. Rene turned over the handful of grain and plant matter he had culled from the deer trough. I stood silent, watching Jim's still unconscious form, my hand on its neck. Beneath the fur, the demon's heart beat slowly, I closed my eyes and opened myself up, trying to touch its spirit, but there was nothing there for me to hold.