“We still need something more definitive to pin a location.”

“What about the bats?”

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised. “What about them?”

“Well, I’ve never seen golden bats—have you?”

“I’ve never actually paid any attention to them, but I’ll contact Barry—he’s a wildlife biologist I met through Nialle and specializes in bat conservation. He should at least give us some idea where we’d find such a bat.”

“Knowing our luck, they’ll probably be everywhere.”

“You’ve become a pessimist of late, sister dearest.”

“I was always a pessimist. It’s just become a more noticeable trait of late.”

He laughed and returned his attention to the road as the traffic increased. Once we’d finally reached Nercwys Forest, we pulled into the small parking area and stopped. There were only half a dozen other cars here, so hopefully that meant there wouldn’t be too many people either walking or cycling along the trails. I really didn’t want an audience when I attempted to commune with the standing stone.

I grabbed my backpack and coat, then climbed out of the car. The morning air was fresh, and I took a deep breath, drawing in the sharp but sweetly refreshing scents of the nearby conifers.

Lugh walked around the back of the car and said, “This way.”

He took off toward a set of old iron gates that led onto a wide walking track. The surrounding wood was filled with birdsong, but there was little other noise. The wind was light, barely stirring the conifer needles, and there was little animal movement through the undergrowth. It was a peaceful and beautiful area, and there was a part of me that wanted nothing more than to sit under the canopy of one of the soldier-straight conifers and draw all that peace into my soul.

Because there wasn’t going to be a whole lot of it in my near future.

I shivered and rubbed my arms as Lugh pulled a map and a compass from his coat pocket, did some calculations and stuff, and then said, “We’ll need to head off the track in a few minutes.”

“There are things called GPSs these days, you know. Far easier than compass tracking.”

“But sometimes not as reliable.” He cast a wry glance my way. “Have you not complained numerous times over the years about Google Maps leading you astray?”

“Well, yes, but it really doesn’t happen all that often.”

“And it doesn’t happen at all if you’re proficient at compass hiking. This way.”

He moved off the track and cut through the lines of conifers at a good clip. I followed several meters behind, concentrating more on the soft songs of the regimented beauty surrounding us than where we were actually going. But after a while, the plantation trees gave way to more natural wilderness, and Lugh’s pace slowed, then finally stopped. I stopped beside him. A misty sort of fog had descended while we’d been in the conifers, and it made the area ahead look decidedly otherworldly. The ground was thick with fallen branches, and brambles scrambled over everything. The trees were thin and in a very poor state, the song of the few still struggling to survive full of distress. Deeper in, there was nothing but death.