“From your description, I suspect this one,” she said, pointing to the listing for “Faeries, Unseelie.” She turned to the entry, and goose bumps rose on Isaac’s skin.

Amelie read out loud, “‘Fae who inhabit the Realm of Faerie. See also: Unseelie Court; Host; Sl—’ Oh!” Amelie clapped her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t read that one out loud. That would be asking for trouble.”

Willow, hovering overhead, made a whimpering noise.

Isaac leaned over and read the word she wouldn’t say: sluagh. “What do you mean, trouble?”

“That word is dangerous when said aloud,” Amelie answered. “Look here.” She pointed to an illustration.

It was a great tall man-like creature dressed in a cloak and wearing a necklace of small bones. It had large leathery wings folded partly back against its shoulders. Its hands were long, its fingers like claws. Its face was almost too perfect, too beautiful, but its eyes were red coals, staring out of the book like it saw Isaac with those burning eyes. Isaac’s insides twisted.

“That,” he said. “That is what I saw. A sl—”

“Stop,” Willow commanded. They lurched away, flattening themselves against the ceiling. “Never say that name out loud. Thankfully, it’s daylight, but even so . . .” Willow shot looks into the shadowy corners. “Read what it says and you’ll see. Read it.”

Amelie read out loud: “‘The shadow fae of the Unseelie Court are the most evil of faeries, living in a dark corner of the Faerie Realm. Malevolent, they appear most often in times of strife and in the twilight hours or the borderlands between day and night, fall and winter, and life and death. Flying as a host, they seek to harvest the souls of mortals. To speak their formal name, the I-won’t-say-it, is to invoke them to you. Never utter that name out loud, especially in darkness, or you may be taken, for they are devilish hunters.’” Amelie leaned away. “And that’s what you saw? Goodness.”

Isaac moved to sit in the nearest chair. He remembered the people he’d seen near the ring of stones who were taken into the night sky. “One was there, with my parents. And then in my first time travel and again when I was in that lorry. My parents said something was hunting me. That must be it.”

“But,” Amelie said, “why?”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting hers. “I do not know.”

The door to the library flew open.

“You need to come look,” Kat said. Her face was white. Colin was right behind her, his hand on Canut’s back. “Come look outside.”

*   *   *

The four children and one dog stood at the open front door, staring into the woods.

The forest was pushed right up to the edge of the drive.

“Just like earlier,” Kat said. “The forest is trying to break the wards.”