Andrew tucks her against him, holding her close. He still doesn't know quite what a Coldfang is or why it was so dead-set (ooh, bad choice of words) on pursuing them, but he's got enough of it. He's familiar enough with the guilt of killing, too, to hold onto Daine like he's never going to let go.

He blinks. "I can't remember now."

Now, in his mind, the library stacks are nearly a labyrinth built of books. The Master must have led him through when he installed him at that desk. For some reason, though, Andrew doesn't feel frightened by the thought.