Gabriel used to be very clear that I couldn’t rely on him. If we’d stuck with that, then I would be grateful right now. But I’d blurted that nightmare to him, one that now seemed more premonition than dream, and three times he’d told me it was wrong. Three times he’d said he would never ever ignore me if I needed help. That was why I blamed him—not for failing to run to my rescue, but for telling me that he would.

“You haven’t seen Ricky, have you?” I said. “I lost him when all this started and . . .”

I trailed off as I saw his expression.

“Something happened,” he said. “Ricky . . .”

“Is he hurt?”

I hung there, waiting for that expression to disappear in a blink as he saw I was freaking out, for him to say, No, nothing like that.

But the look did not change.

“Gabriel?”

“There was . . . an accident.”

“But he’s all right?”

“He was when I left, but . . .”

“Left?” I strode into the hall. “You left him?”

“To get help, Olivia. We should go and phone for—”

“You go. After you tell me where the hell Ricky is.”

“The belfry.”

I started to run. Every other time I’d gone that way, I’d never found the stairs. But now the hall kept going, exactly as it should, the stairs ahead. Gabriel thundered after me, saying, “Hold on.”

I swung onto the stairs.

“They’re rotted!” he called after me.

I ran up, moving fast enough that when one gave way, it broke after my weight was on the next. Gabriel kept calling after me, telling me to stop or at least slow the hell down. He actually said “hell,” which was probably code for I’m serious. I did exactly what he’d spent the day doing to me: I ignored him.

I found the belfry ladder. When I reached the top, the first thing I saw was blood. It arced across the wall and dripped onto the floor. The belfry railing was broken. A hole in it, just the size for someone to have fallen through, with fresh jagged splinters on both sides.

“Ricky!” I started running toward the hole.

“Olivia! Stop!” It was Gabriel. “The floor—”

My foot hit a hole, and I stumbled. As I did, I saw Ricky, unconscious, propped against the wall, his neck bound with strips from his shirt, the rest discarded beside him. His chest rose and fell with steady breathing.

I took a step in that direction.

“Careful!” Gabriel said, his voice harsh as he crested the steps.

I picked my way toward Ricky.

“We thought we heard you up here, and something attacked him,” Gabriel said. “It cut his neck and knocked him through the railing. Luckily, he caught the edge. I hauled him back in and bound his neck. When I left, he was conscious but weak from loss of blood. Is his breathing—?”