"Who are you," I asked.

"Are you free," she asked, she always asked this.

"Yes, are you in prison," I reply.

"Of a sort," she replied smiling wickedly. "I do not know you. How can I not know you?"

"I don't understand," I said. This is new. She never said that before.

"Are you my brother or sister or something else," she demanded.

"I must be something else," I replied. "I have only seen you in my dreams."

"Are you a Watcher," she asked putting such emotional emphasis on the last word.

"I don't think so," I said and she smiled again.

"You are not demon or angel then," she...