What he felt was something much warmer and much stranger, a kind of silent euphoria, the calm certainty that a door that had always been locked had opened, and that from now on that door was going to stay open, and that what had happened in the garden was not a rare accident, but the beginning of something that was going to repeat, again, and again, and again.
He went back to the car, got in, closed the door, and bumped his forehead against the steering wheel, with a laugh that escaped before he could hold it in, muffled, trembling, absolutely ridiculous.
'Haha,' he thought, and the blue light on his forehead flared so brightly that it lit up the entire dashboard. 'Haha, this is going to happen again.'
And then, because no one was watching, he punched the air once, very gently, so as not to break the roof of the car.
Inside the mansion, Isabella came in like a silent hurricane.
