Isaac looked more closely. Memories flooded back. Models and drawings in his grandfather’s small cottage, covering every surface. “It is really clever,” Isaac said. He flexed the tiny copper wing that was attached to the mouse’s back. “Look how it is put together. But so sad. So cruel.”

“Yes,” Kat whispered. “Just like before.”

Isaac went on, “My grandfather loved mechanics. He studied the astronomical clock in the Old Town Square for years. It was his dream to build a clock like it, so he made these little parts and tried to show me how they all went together.”

“But not in animals,” Colin said, his voice in a hitch. “Not like that.”

“No,” Isaac said.

“Not like that,” Kat echoed, grim. She said to Gumble, “You know what this may mean.”

“Is it dead?” Lark asked with a sob. “It was horrible, the way that ghost kitty chased it. It squeaked and squealed . . .” and she buried her head against Amelie again.

Colin whispered feverishly into Canut’s neck, “I know. Don’t worry. We have each other. I won’t let it happen to you. Never.”

MacLarren cleared his throat. “Mr. Falstone, ye’d best get dressed. That MI-Six chap’ll be here soon. Got to get him through the wards.”

“Right,” Leo said, and left the kitchen.

Gumble said, “We’d best dispose of it. It is partly organic after all.”

“And then find out who or what was responsible,” said Kat.

“Aye,” MacLarren said.

Isaac said, “I don’t mind. I can take care of it.” He picked up the little beast in his hands. It was soft and limp, but the mechanical parts were angular and sharp, and Isaac felt sorry for the poor mouse.

“Into the garden, perhaps,” Kat said. “I’ll go with you.” She led Isaac out through the kitchen to the garden door.

“MI-Six chap?” Isaac asked as they went.

“We got word last week that they were sending someone. Some kind of evaluation. We get them from time to time.” Kat opened the door for Isaac and then she gasped. “Look at the forest,” she whispered. “Look at the garden.”

The forest was right up against the garden wall, and thorny vines crept over the wall into the garden.

“It is not always like that?” Isaac asked. He heard a low surge and wondered whether he could hear the waves that pounded the shoreline some distance away.

“No. Never. The forest should be half a mile back.” Kat was rigid, staring. “This isn’t right.”

Isaac moved past her to a place where he could put the little creature into a deep pile of mulch. When he turned around again, Kat was holding her hand out in front of her, her eyes closed, her lips moving.

At once he heard it, painfully. A throbbing hum came from whatever she held in her hand.

“What are you doing?” he cried. “Please, stop.”