Aidan sank to his knees on the cold concrete and shuddered, gasping in welcome lungfulls of air. There was a sooty chemical taste to it that seemed vaguely familiar, but just then Aidan didn't care about anything other than having air and solid ground once again.

Everything was eerily silent, but that was because of his injured eardrums. As he healed sound gradually returned, and as Aidan gradually calmed enough to pay attention to his surroundings he realized that he was hearing the sounds of a city at night. Not an Arethan city with the clopping of hooves and ringing of distant clock towers, but a city like those of his long-past childhood with the hum of passing cars and the occasional honk from an irate driver.

Feeling more than a little confused, as well as still a bit dizzy, Aidan slowly got to his feet.

“Ah, there you are.”

Aidan groaned at the too-familiar, sardonic voice. He looked around, but saw no sign of the demon. “Show yourself, you coward,” he said.

“I think not,” came the reply. “I must admit that you are full of surprises, Aidan. I had not expected a blessed weapon. You must tell me some time how it is that you can touch it, given what you are. I suppose it is fortunate for me that you fell through the abyss to this other world. Frustrating as it is for me to delay getting what I want, I think I have a good chance of reaching my goal now. Because, you see, as long as you wear that little bauble you are trapped here. You know as well as I that I cannot touch you with my power, but it seems that I can touch the torc itself, if I do not direct the spell at your person. The torc is anchored to this world now. You cannot leave here while you wear it. You cannot go home, Aidan. You cannot see your family ever again, unless you take the torc off. That's all I want, take it off, and I will make you a portal home myself.”

Aidan sighed. “I'm not an idiot. And I know perfectly well that if I take the torc off I'll die.”

“But you took it off before and lived, Aidan. Why would you think such a thing?” The demon was trying to sound friendly, but not doing a very good job of it, in Aidan's opinion.

“Oh shut up. I still had it in my hand, didn't I? I'm not going to give it to you, it doesn't matter what you do. So why don't you come here and fight me. If you're so amazing and powerful and I'm so pathetic, you should win easily, and you can take the cursed thing from my corpse!”

“I am not an idiot either, Aidan.” The demon's voice was cold now. “If you die with it on it becomes just a piece of metal and glass. It is only of worth to me is surrendered while you still live. Otherwise you would have died long since and I would have my desire.”

“Sucks to be you,” muttered Aidan, the continued a bit louder. “I don't want to die, and I don't want you to have it either, so you're straight out of luck, demon.”

“Very well,” the demon's voice began to fade. “Perhaps I will find another way. But I leave the spell on you. Stay here, in this miserable world, and never see your home or family again.” And then it was gone, and Aidan sighed, sinking to the ground.

After a long time he got back to his feet. He didn't feel like trying to fly through the fog, so he simply walked, heading back towards the building he'd nearly hit earlier. The sidewalk he'd landed on led in that direction, flanked by small trees and grass, with whatever was beyond it invisible in the thick fog. Before he'd gone two yards he met a cross-path, and immediately after that his side-walk ended in a black asphalt street. A dim green glow marked what must be a traffic light, and the white stripes of a crosswalk led across to where a red glow, only just recognizable as a stylized hand, marked the far side of the street.

Coincidence, that this is so familiar? Or is this my old home? He wished the fog would lift so that he could get a better look around. But then if this was Earth he might be better off with the gloom. At least this way his wings would be less noticeable. The street was deserted as far as he could see, though that wasn't far, but just because it had been so long since he'd touched anything technological, he pressed the button for the walk symbol. He could see it, though not quite crisply, on the far side, when the red hand changed to the little green person, and a regular chirp told the blind that it was safe to cross. He crossed the street, where he found another sidewalk lined in bushes and trees that dead-ended in a locked gate. A very diffuse glow ahead that loomed above everything suggested the large building was on the other side. With a shrug he spread his wings and flew over the gate. Large buildings might be recognizable, if this were Earth. Perhaps he could confirm it, and even find out what city he was in. Not a terribly large one, from the sound of it, but still, the street had been four lanes across, and huge structures were seldom built in small towns. The path he had followed thus far seemed like it would lead him in front of it, so he continued on. Soon he was standing before a massive, looming facade. A set of stairs led up to a huge, ornate door. The door, and the spires he'd seen earlier made him wonder if this was some cathedral. He climbed the stairs and gingerly touched the door knob, almost expecting it to burn when he touched it, as a cathedral on Aretha might have, but it was just cool metal under his hand. Does that mean that this isn't a cathedral? Or that holy power doesn't hurt me here? Or is it that holy power isn't real here, and there are no gods?

The knob didn't turn when he tried it, the door seemed to be locked. Then he noticed the decoration on the knob. It was an elaborate beehive. He blinked.

A beehive. And there were three spires. I wonder.... He turned and took wing again from the top of the stairs, circling out and up, trying to gain altitude. He was aware of the bright mass of the building beside him, and as he beat his wings and rose he could tell when he reached the level of the spires. He kept on rising until he was as high as the highest central one, then turned in towards it. As it loomed up out of the fog he almost laughed. He passed within inches of the golden, trumpet-blowing angel, then circled around to land again. He knew now where he was.

The Mormon temple. I remember coming here before, at Christmas, to see the lights. I wanted to climb the stairs and try the door then, but my mother wouldn't let me. I remember imagining that it was because the Mormons' God would smite me with lightning if somebody who wasn't one of them touched their temple. I guess he must not be the smiting type. Well, at least I know where I am. On Earth, and not just on Earth, in Utah, in Salt Lake City.

He settled tiredly to the ground again. Earth. And that means I'm the only aerian on the planet. Great. I need to find somewhere to hole up. He peered up at the temple again. He could probably find a spot to hide amid all the architectural elaborations on the roof and spires, but even if he hadn't been smitten for touching the door, it still seemed a bit sacrilegious to settle in for the night on somebody's holy building. Fortunately the downtown area near the temple held plenty of places for someone with wings to hide, and soon he'd found a nearby building with a sheltered alcove on the roof. He could sense that dawn was coming, so he curled up there, exhausted after the night's events, and was soon fast asleep.