I ran after the little girl. There was a tumble of ruins past the garage, some building not strong enough to withstand the crushing hand of nature. I picked my way around it and through a tangle of bushes and—

Three men stood there. I stopped short, backing up into Gabriel, who caught me. I glanced over at him. He was scanning the landscape—the field and trees, the lake just visible behind them. He gave no sign of seeing the men, and when I looked again, I realized why. The one closest to me was dressed in an old-fashioned hunting jacket and boots, his hair slicked back, with massive sideburns.

Men from a different era. Ghosts or visions. One leaned on a shovel. Another held a gun. The third was dapper, wearing gloves and a bowler hat. When I turned, the Villa and all its buildings were gone, and I saw only field and trees and holes. Construction had just begun.

“I’m telling you, there’s something here,” said the man leaning on the shovel. The foreman, I guessed. He had a thick Scottish accent.

“And I’m not denying it,” said the man with the hunting rifle. “We’ve got squatters, Mr. Mills. That’s what happens when you build on land long empty. Folks consider it theirs.”

The foreman shook his head. “If it’s squatters, then where are the huts? The tents? Whatever’s here, it’s not natural.”

“It’s perfectly natural,” the hunter said. “We’ve seen them and we’ve heard them. They’re canny, always flitting about, hiding on us. But you’re making a fool of yourself, Campbell, filling Mr. Mills’s ear with your old-world nonsense.”

“Mr. Napier?” The dapper man—Nathaniel Mills—spoke to the hunter. “I believe you have work to do. I want those fox holes cleared out today.”

“I’d rather be clearing the squatters,” Napier said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I believe they’re a greater nuisance than a few foxes.”

Mills dismissed the hunter, and the man stalked off, grumbling under his breath. When he was gone, Mills turned to the foreman.

“Whatever’s out there isn’t canny at all,” Mills said. “It’s uncanny. Unnatural. I’ve heard laughing when no one’s there. I’ve seen figures that disappear in broad daylight. The other night, when I was walking the grounds with my dogs, I heard music and my hounds wouldn’t take another step. They tore back to the motorcar and cowered there. Napier might think me a fool for saying so, but I’ll believe what I see and what I hear. My granny used to tell me stories . . .” He peered across the wild yard. “Something’s out there, and I’ll not bring Letitia here until it’s safe.”

“You’re a wise man, Mr. Mills. Folks like Napier don’t understand. They think every danger can be fought with a good hunting rifle.”