“You never bother me, Gabriel,” I said, managing a smile. “Walk with me. Please.”

He nodded, and we continued in silence. When we reached the corner of Beechwood and I started to turn onto it, he cleared his throat.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go that way.”

I looked down the street. The sun was still out, people cutting lawns and tending gardens, enjoying the warm June evening. I couldn’t see the house, hidden behind the towering maples, but I could spot the fence, wrought-iron with chimeras. The Carew house, where I’d first had the visions, one of Matilda that had spiraled me into a dangerous fever.

“I just want—” I began.

“Quickly,” he said.

I started walking, faster now, pulled toward that house. When we reached the gate, I unlatched it and stepped through. He stayed on the sidewalk.

“We aren’t going inside,” he said.

“I’m not. I’m just . . .” I trailed off, looking at the house.

“We aren’t going inside.” Anger edged his words. “I know you want answers, but this isn’t how you’ll get them. I won’t do that again.”

“I didn’t take off on you at the Villa. I—”

A middle-aged couple walking on the opposite side of the road slowed to watch us.

“Can we go around back?” I said. “Into the gardens. I won’t step inside the house. I just don’t want to stand out here.”

Seconds ticked by as he considered.

“Please,” I said. “I need a few moments of . . . of peace. I’ll find it in the garden. Five minutes, and we can leave. I swear.”

He nodded abruptly.

We went around the house. It was a Queen Anne, with a rounded porch, columns, and huge bay windows. The gardens were classic Victorian. No grass here. Only cobblestone walks, empty flower beds, and a fishpond with a fountain. I walked over to a statue in the corner. It was of a young woman, naked, raking her fingers through tousled, wet hair. At her feet was what looked like a fur rug, until I got closer and saw it was a sealskin. She was a selkie.

There were at least a dozen other statues, perhaps more small ones hidden under ivy. When I’d first come here, I’d paid little attention to the ones that seemed human, my attention instead drawn to the fantastical—the water dragons and trolls. Now I realized the humans weren’t human at all.

I glanced at the house. Had Glenys Carew known what Cainsville was? Or had she, like Rose, only sensed it, and become captivated with images of the fair folk, like Rose was fascinated by their folklore?

Gabriel stood in front of a bench but gave no sign of wanting to sit. Silently waiting. On guard, too, against me breaking my word.