“I’ll do that.” Nora glanced down at the journal. “Would you like this back?”

“No. Keep it somewhere safe in the store. We’ll find a way to preserve it and display it. In a frame, maybe.”

Nora nodded, then disappeared back into the shop. Margot looked up at Kant. “The same goes for all of us. We should get indoors before nightfall.”

“You think the journal won’t be enough,” he said.

She turned back to the drive, feeling the shadows from the trees’ dead branches graze her as she slowly began the climb. “No.”

Kant stayed beside her. “You have your phone.”

“Yes.” She already knew, with complete certainty, she wouldn’t be calling Kant that night. Or any of the others. Whatever came for her after dark, she’d have to face on her own.

As they neared the path leading to the winery, two figures appeared on the road ahead. Andrew, his hair combed and a new, cleaner vest in place, walked beside Witchety. Her loose, layered, moss-green dress billowed in the wind as Marsh, leashed, trotted at her side.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Margot called as they drew closer. “I thought you must have picked up Marsh hours ago.”

“I’ve been tramping all over looking for him,” Witchety said, a twist to her lips. “Went up to the house first. Utterly empty. Thought for a moment you might have whisked off in the night and taken my dog with you.”

“It’s a temptation.” Margot bent to kiss Marsh’s silky head and was rewarded with eager, humid licks in return. “Thank you for letting him stay with me.”

Witchety made a soft scoffing noise. “Of course. But I’m taking him back now. I don’t mind lending things out on occasion, but I missed this one too much.”

Margot’s heart hurt at the thought, but it was for the best. Marsh had been a small glimmer of comfort through the night…and she was fairly sure she had her life to thank him for. But Gallows Hill was not safe for dogs. Not even ones as good as the golden retriever. He leaned into her pats, adoring eyes gazing up at her, as she whispered a goodbye into his soft fur. Then she stood, breathing slowly to hide her growing anxiety.

“The Watcher’s gone,” she said. Witchety deserved to know, even if Margot couldn’t tell her what had happened to it. “I’m sorry.”

Beneath the cataracts, Witchety’s eyes were sharp as she scanned Margot’s face, and Margot thought she guessed more than the words implied. “I suppose your parents didn’t show it much respect.”

“Well…” She didn’t know what kind of respect a monstrous effigy was supposed to be given, but it seemed to have spent most of its life tucked away and hidden beneath a cloth.