Kat led him, yanking his arm, and he could almost feel the hot breath of a wolf, until suddenly they were inside the castle, shoving the door closed behind.

Kat and Isaac leaned against the door, panting. Wolves thudded at the door with a shuddering jolt and then scratched at the wood. Kat threw a bolt, and when their eyes met, hers were wide with shock.

CHAPTER 31

The Wraith

The wraith is rapturous. The wards around the castle are breaking. The ancient magic the wraith has called to the forest has become stronger. The dire wolves beat against the castle doors, the trees have moved right up against the aging stone walls, and the snaking vines are climbing, climbing the crumbling towers and seeking entry through the mullioned windows.

The wraith looks up from what it is doing—a task so disturbing that all the little mechanicals have gone into hiding—and thinks, Hurry. Hurry. Now is the time. Now we will have what we’ve longed for. Now we can find what we’ve sought.

Back before, two years ago (what feels like thousands of years ago) the wraith had found her. It loved her before she ever knew it did. Before the wraith itself knew. The wraith longed for her, and gave her what she wished for—all those mechanical replacements that gave her power—and then it realized. The wraith re-created her (yes, as a monster) but also loved her.

It gave the Lady what she desired, but lost her in the end. Lost her and realized—too late! Oh, agony, too late!—that it loved her.

But now . . . it will bring her back. It can do that. It has many of her parts. All it needs is what is locked inside Kat’s chatelaine.

It will bring her back to life.

The wraith bends to its current task, to the human captive that lies prone and helpless, the human captive that will steal the chatelaine, and the little mechanicals dare not peek.

CHAPTER 32

Moloch

Moloch lifts his head and sniffs the air.

When Isaac opens his heart and mind to his magical gift, and the wolves throw themselves against the doors, and the forest presses on the stones of Rookskill Castle, a shudder passes from the human world right through the thin places to the Realm of Faerie. Right through to Moloch.

He stands. “It’s ready,” he whispers. He tilts his head, listening, feeling. He’s sure that he’s right, that his hunter is right. He’s found the Guardian at last.

And at Rookskill. Perfect.