Holy crap. I’d almost gone into the water with a nymph.

That was no sweet little mermaid waiting in the night waters. I’d read about nymphs in my grandmother’s book. They were known to pull the unwary under the waves, drown them, and then take little bites out of the tenderest parts. The more tender the better.

I swallowed hard and, steeling myself, I started forward again. This was an interview. One I was going to get through intact with all of my tender parts, thank you very much.

The path underfoot grew rocky and started climbing upward. I wasn’t even sure how that was possible. When I looked over my shoulder, the path behind me appeared flat. It was steep in front of me, and the more I looked at it, the steeper it seemed to become, until it was almost vertical. A mountain in the middle of the graveyard.

Not possible, but I would have said that about most of what I’d encountered in here.

“Great, this is a fitness test now,” I muttered under my breath. I adjusted the waistband of my capris and started up the narrow track. There was open air to my right, and the mountain rock to my left. Which doesn’t sound so bad, except that the farther up I went, the narrower the path got until I had to put my back against the wall of rock while the tips of my toes were hanging over the edge. I knew—logically—this outcropping was not possible. There were no rock mountains in Savannah. It was lowland, marshy and flat. Especially this area. Which meant this rock formation had to be man-made.

Or made with magic.

The flop sweat from earlier was nothing compared to the sweat that flowed from me now at the thought that this outcropping I stood on, high above the solid ground, could be made of magic. Magic could disappear, just like Robert had, and that would leave me in mid-air with nothing to catch me.

But that wasn’t my biggest problem.

A howl cut through the air below me. I didn’t bother to look down the path. I didn’t need to check to know that my now one-eared friend was back.

“Crap, crap, crap!” I scrambled as fast as I could, sideways, up the rock path, my feet barely staying where I wanted them, my thin running shoes making it so I could feel every little pebble as I tried to hurry without falling. A fall now would mean bad things. Broken limbs. Lying helpless on the ground where the big wolf would no doubt gobble me up.