CHAPTER SIX

The neighborhoods surrounding the jail were . . . well, pretty much what you’d expect for neighborhoods surrounding a jail. There were good areas in East Garfield Park, but they didn’t extend to the doorstep of the nation’s biggest prison. Still, it wasn’t such a bad neighborhood that we looked out of place. Ransom stuck to the sidewalk, moving at a purposeful stride down one street after another.

“Where the hell is he going?” I muttered. “I’ve seen them vanish, so why not just walk into the guards’ change room and never come out? Do you think he knows we’re tailing him?”

“Possibly.”

Ransom turned down another street, this one industrial, with a building in the throes of demolition on the left.

“They can’t actually disappear, right?” I said. “It must be some kind of Jedi mind trick.”

“I believe you are conflating your fantasy worlds.”

“You know what I mean. He alters our perception so we no longer see him. Rather than actually vanishing.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. I want limits, damn it. I’ll accept omens and portents and second sight. I’ll accept giant black hounds and creepy ravens and magpies. I’m still working out the fae and Wild Hunt thing. But I draw the line at people disappearing into thin air. Don’t give me that look, either.”

“Look?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m quite certain I didn’t even smile.”

“I can feel the laughing.”

His lips twitched. That’s when Ransom did disappear, if only around the side of a coin laundry. I picked up my pace. Gabriel laid his fingers against my back. “Careful, Olivia.”

He was right—I’d left my purse in the car, to avoid checking it at security, which meant I was unarmed.

We caught another glimpse of Ransom as he turned into the gap between two buildings. Gabriel stopped me before I could follow. He surveyed the area and then swung his gaze back to that gap, his eyes narrowed. If he were a cat, his fur would have been standing on end.

“Trouble?” I said.

“We’ve been led up and down these streets. Now our target has vanished into a dark alley. I don’t believe it takes an omen to signal we’re being led into a trap.”

“So we retreat?”

“No, we proceed with extreme caution.”

The dark alley was actually a narrow road between buildings. It wasn’t all that dark, either, only dim from the shadow of one building stretching across to the other. It was still midday, and we could hear the shouts of men at a construction site a block over. The last dangerous place I’d ventured had been an abandoned psychiatric hospital at 2 A.M. This was nothing.

There was no sign of Ransom. When we got halfway down the lane, Gabriel pointed to the mouth of an adjoining alley. Which meant that Ransom could have gone that way . . . or be lying in wait there to pounce on us.

“I’m going to check,” Gabriel said. “Wait here and stand watch, please.”

When he reached the intersection, he peered around it. At a noise behind me, I glanced around to see a plastic bag tumbling my way. I turned back and . . .

No Gabriel.

I was almost ashamed of the sudden impulse to run and see where he’d gone. Um, down the side alley obviously. I waited a minute. Then I walked to the intersection and looked around the corner to see . . .

A dead end.

The alley was only about ten feet long and stopped at a chain-link fence. I couldn’t imagine Gabriel hopping that fence. He’s too big to be agile, and his dignity stops him from doing anything that could look, well, undignified.

I walked to the fence and peered through. No sign of Gabriel. That’s when my heart started pounding in earnest. And when I started cursing us both out for not retrieving our cell phones from the car before we set off to follow a Huntsman.

I returned to the lane and walked along it. When a dark shadow loomed over me, I turned with a greeting on my lips. No one was there. The shadow stayed, though, and I craned my neck to see an owl perched on the roof above.

Owl in daytime. Always a bad sign.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

Across the road at the end of the lane was a block of housing. An old woman stood in a rear yard scrubbing clothing in a basin with a washboard. I crossed the road, pulled by the archaic sight. She had her head down, scrubbing diligently while crooning to herself. I walked right up to the fence and peered over. I could see her long, snarled hair and her reed-thin, wizened arms. When she raised her head, I knew what I’d see. Those blackened, jagged teeth. That long nose and sunken eyes—one black and one gray.

“Y mae mor salw â Gwrach y Rhibyn,” I whispered.

Her mouth opened. “Fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn bach,” she shrieked. “Fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn bach.”

My child. My little child.

The bean nighe warns of death.

As she wailed, I stared at the white shirt in her hand. Gabriel’s shirt.

I turned, tripping and stumbling down the road. Then there was no road. I was in a field. I took two staggering steps and felt the soft earth beneath my feet and the long grass whispering against my legs. The field flickered, like a broken recording, and I was on the street again, feeling the pavement and hearing the whine of distant machinery. Two more steps and I was back in the field, a butterfly tickling past, the smell of wildflowers on the breeze.

I stopped and pressed my palms to my eyes.

I have to stay in the real world. Gabriel’s there.

I heard the shouts of construction workers and smelled the stink of fresh asphalt, and when I opened my eyes, I was on the street. I searched for a sign.

Nothing. Even the owl was gone. I spun back to Gwrach y Rhibyn, but in her place was an ordinary woman hanging out her laundry.

I raced across the road, ignoring the honk of a passing truck driver. I was almost back to the lane when I heard a psst, like a child trying to get my attention. It was indeed a child. A little blond girl, one I’d seen before and one who was as out of place in this world as Gwrach y Rhibyn. Unlike the crone, she looked as if she belonged—a girl in a pale green sundress and neon-green jelly sandals. In one hand she carried a stuffed animal, so old I couldn’t even tell what it was. Her other fist was clenched, but I knew what it held: black and white stones.

I’d seen her before, in my dreams. I’d been her in an earlier vision of Gwrach y Rhibyn. Seeing her here, though, made the ground seem to shift under my feet.

“I have a story,” she said. “Do you want to hear it?”

“I want to find Gabriel.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Gwynn is fine.”

“No, Gabriel.”

“I said he’s fine. You need to hear my story. It’s important.”

My heart pounded faster. It’s a trap. She’s stalling. Where is he?

As soon as I thought that, the distant baying of hounds sounded and my breath caught.

“Do you hear that?” I asked.

She smiled. “The hounds. The Hunt. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“No, it’s—”

The world flickered and suddenly I was in the night forest, and I heard the hounds and felt the ground vibrating under the horses’ hooves, and it was wonderful. Like the night in the forest with Ricky, when we’d heard them.

Then the scene evaporated, and I was back in the city, dread coursing through me, my face heating now as I started to sweat.

“Back and forth,” the girl said as she fingered her stones. “Black and white. This and that. Night and day. Hunt and fae. So it will always be.”

“What will always be?”

“Us,” she said.

She put out her hand, with just two stones, one black and one white. Then she made a fist. When she opened her hand, there was only one stone, black and white swirling through it.

“There’s no escape,” she said. “Only balance.”

The hounds bayed again, closer, and I stiffened, my heart hammering now.

“They won’t hurt you,” she said.

“It’s Gabriel I’m worried about.”

“They won’t hurt you,” she repeated.

I started down the lane.

“You really should hear my story,” she called after me.

“I need to find him.”

She sighed, like a gust of wind, and I swear I felt it rush past. Then she was beside me.

“This way,” she said.

She headed to the side alley.

“Wait,” she said.

A horse neighed. Its scent wafted past on the breeze and sweat dribbled down my cheek as I strained to catch some sign of Gabriel.

“Wait,” she said. “He will . . .”

She trailed off, and when I looked, she was gone.

“Olivia?” Gabriel called.

“See?” the little girl’s voice whispered in my ear. “I said they wouldn’t hurt you.”

Gabriel stepped into the intersection of the alley. Relief flickered over his face, quickly swallowed by annoyance.

“I asked you to stay where you were.”

My mouth was dry and my heart seemed to short out, as if unable to find a proper rhythm after pounding for so long. “I did,” I said. “You . . . you took off.”

“Took off?” The annoyance crackled as he came toward me. “I found a dead end, turned around, and you were gone and—”

He stopped short and stared at me. I took a step toward him. My knees wobbled. He grabbed me just as I regained my balance.

“I’m okay,” I said.

“No, you’re burning up.” His hand shot to my forehead, smacking it hard enough to make me wince. “The fever is back.”

I pushed his hand away. “I’m fine, just . . .” I took a step and my knees wobbled again. “A little weak.”

He tried to put his arm around me, hand braced under my armpit. That was awkward, and not just because of the height difference. Gabriel isn’t accustomed to supporting others, physically or otherwise. I took his elbow instead.

“So what happened when you went around the corner?” I asked.

“I didn’t go around it. I merely glanced around it. When I turned back, you were gone. Then I went looking for you.”

“Huh. Well, my experience was a little stranger,” I said, and then explained.

—

I don’t keep anything from Gabriel, no matter how weird it gets. And no matter how weird it gets, he never so much as quirks an eyebrow. This time we’d both experienced some perception or reality shift, and I don’t know if it merely separated us long enough for us to wander our separate ways or if I hadn’t been here at all. Not in this world or this plane.

Last week I’d been inside the empty Cainsville house that originally belonged to my great-great-grandmother. I’d stepped into an inlaid triskelion of an owl that had triggered a vision of the girl and the bean nighe. To have that same thing happen on a city street was disconcerting to say the least.

“I blame the Cwn Annwn,” Gabriel said. “They were close enough to cause it.”

He steered me into a dodgy corner store and bought me a Dr Pepper and a bag of ice.

“I’ll take the pop,” I said. “But I don’t really need the—”

“Humor me.”

We returned to the car, and I put the ice bag against my forehead, which seemed to be what he expected.

We sat in the parking lot for a while, so I could rest. Gabriel checked his messages and so did I. The curse of modern communications—spend a couple of hours separated from your cell and you’ll spend another twenty minutes catching up.

I went to my texts first. Gabriel said, “Ricky?”

My smile must have given it away. “He’s coming home early. Which means you won’t have to babysit me tonight.”

Gabriel gave a grunt that I interpreted as “Good.”

“I’ll surprise him at the airport,” I said. “He can drop me at the office in the morning.”

Another grunt. I looked up to see him engrossed in his e-mail. I stopped talking and texted with Ricky. When I finished, Gabriel was sitting with his phone on his leg, his hand engulfing it.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Edgar Chandler is dead.”

“What?”

“He killed himself shortly after returning to his cell. Cyanide, it seems.”

“Ransom must have slipped it to him. He warned Chandler that the hounds were coming and gave him a way out. That’s why I heard them. They were coming for Chandler.” I exhaled. “Shit.”

“There will be an investigation,” Gabriel said. “As his final visitors, we’ll be questioned. We may also be suspected.”

“Of giving him the pill? But we never touched him and the guard can confirm . . . Except the guard wasn’t a guard at all.”

“There were security cameras. As well as the second guard. I doubt we’d be seriously considered as suspects.”

“Okay, so what about Jon Childs? The guy Chandler wanted you to kill.”

“I had no intention of actually—”

I cut him off with a look. “I know that. You just wanted to get his name and find out why Chandler wants him dead.”

He nodded, pleased that I’d figured it out and relieved that I’d known he wouldn’t kill a man—at least, not one who didn’t present an immediate lethal threat.

“So let’s find Jon Childs,” I said.