“When it all went down at the apartment, someone contacted Walter. I hate to say it was Grace, but I don’t know who else. Not the dryads, if they’re suspicious of him. Not Patrick, if he was busy trying to help Pamela.”

“Grace didn’t know what was going on until we arrived. She didn’t have time to contact him. I’m not sure anyone did.”

“No one needed to,” Gabriel said. “If Walter drugged Ida’s tea, then he knew what was happening well in advance. Presumably Pamela’s fae accomplice was motivated by more than hopes of currying favor with her.”

“The sluagh orchestrated it, right down to the minutiae, and when it went wrong, she had Walter there to spirit Seanna off.”

“Why not just kill Seanna, then?” Ricky said. “Or is that what Walter’s doing?”

“By this point, I’m beyond guessing.”

A few miles in silence. Then Ricky glanced over the seat at me. “Are we sure we’re right about all this? There’s more than one solution to this equation. Maybe Walter really did just decide to step up and handle something for Ida.”

I showed him my cell phone, finally displaying Pepper’s phone coordinates on a map.

He zoomed in on the map and then said, “Shit.”

“Exactly.”

—

Back where we began.

Not the absolute start—I wasn’t even sure where that was. The moment I discovered the Larsens were my parents? The moment I stepped into Cainsville? The moment I first heard the Matilda myth?

No. For me, this was where it all really began. Ricky and me and Gabriel, fighting a common foe, our first taste of what life as Arawn and Matilda and Gwynn would be like. Endless traps and tricks and betrayals.

Twice I’d stood in this spot. Twice I’d looked at this collection of buildings. The first time was the beginning. The second had seemed like an ending. An ending to so many things.

Gabriel stood beside me, gazing on the same scene, his haunted expression telling me I wasn’t the only one remembering. When I touched his arm, he flinched.

“You did come,” I said. “The last time. You got my message, and you came.”

I leaned against his side, and he put his arm around me, and we stood there, staring at the distant buildings of the abandoned asylum.

When we heard Lloergan’s panting, we turned to see Ricky jogging over, the hound at his side.

“You guys actually stayed where I put you,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“How does it look?” I asked.

“Clear. Lloe’s not picking up anything, either. We’re safe here until—”

Lloergan whined. Her ears shot forward as she stared toward the road.

“You can join them if you want, girl,” Ricky said.