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 . . .”