She smiled then, a real one. Someone else did, too—Grace, on her stoop, watching them with a smug look.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

As we walked, I kept glancing at Gabriel. The quieter he was—and the faster he walked—the more I suspected he really would rather be resting at Rose’s.

“We can go back,” I said.

“I’m fine.”

We reached the park. It was empty, the swings twisting in the breeze. We both stopped near the fence, as if each was waiting to see if the other planned to go in or continue on. I broke the impasse by opening the gate and walking through.

We sat on the bench in silence. I wanted to explain why I’d been going to the Carew house. In talking to Ricky, I’d realized that I needed to get these damned visions over with. To see whatever I was supposed to see. Otherwise, we wouldn’t know enough context to figure out what had happened to James.

The problem was that the visions came with a price, and if I mentioned my plan to Gabriel, he’d snap and snarl and insist that I really didn’t need them, that I could just ask the elders or Patrick. I couldn’t, because everyone had an agenda and they’d slant the story to their advantage. So I was stuck.

I need these answers. I can’t help him without them.

The thought flitted through my mind . . . and then I was standing in a field. A perfect midsummer field, the grass long and sweet-smelling, tickling me in the breeze. A dragonfly landed on a stalk in front of me, its jeweled body glittering in the sun. I could hear the distant trill of a bird and the burble of a brook.

I knew what lay beyond that brook. The forest. Dark and shadowed, yet in its way as wonderful as the sunlit meadow—peaceful, shady, and cool. Two halves of the whole.

“Two halves of your whole,” said a voice beside me.

The little girl reached for the dragonfly, laughing as it zipped away. This is where I’d first seen the bean nighe, down by that stream. I’d been the girl, walking through the meadow to the forest. When I lifted my hand now, though, it was clearly mine.

I turned quickly. “Gabriel . . .”

“He’s fine. Would you rather try to talk him into returning to your house?”

“My house?”

The girl smiled. “Of course. It was built for you, long before you were born.”

I shook off the illogic of that. “But Gabriel—”

“You want the rest of the story. You can’t convince him to let you see it, and you wisely won’t attempt to without him, so this is the best answer. A blameless way to get what you want.”