Over here, Billy!” The boy looked around in confusion, searching the shadows for whoever had just whispered his name. A black dog capered at his feet. Suddenly it gave an excited bark and came trotting toward Norris, who was crouched behind a stack of barrels. The mutt, at least, thought no ill of him, and was wagging its tail, delighted to play a friendly game of hide-and-seek with a man it did not even know. Dim Billy was more cautious. “Who is it, Spot?” he asked, as if fully expecting the dog to answer him. Norris stepped out from behind the barrels. “It’s me, Billy,” he said, and saw the boy begin to back away. “I won’t hurt you. You remember me, don’t you?” The boy looked at his dog, who was now licking Norris’s hand, clearly unconcerned. “You’re Miss Rose’s friend,” he said. “I need you to take her a message.” “The Night Watch says you’re the Reaper.” “I’m not. I swear I’m not.” “They’re searching for you, all up and down the river.”
