Emily looked down at his small hand in hers. Smiling, just as she remembered her mother doing, she put one arm around William and, releasing her hand from his, the other round the boy sitting on her right, drawing them in closer.

“Now, what makes you think it is true? Have you ever seen the monster, William?” Emily asked.

“No, miss,” William said. “And I’m glad. For if I had, it would have been the last thing I ever saw.” He hesitated, frowning deeply. “But I have heard it. All of us here have. For it came not so long ago—that’s how we know it is real.”

The boys nodded and murmured in agreement, and a very small boy, perhaps no more than three years old, climbed onto her lap, winding his arms around her neck. These worried, vulnerable little boys touched her heart in a most unexpected way. They reminded her of the day she had first set eyes on Keeper, dirty and bloody, lost and unloved. All they wanted was for someone to tell them all was well and keep them safe, the poor little pups. For all the sorrows of her life, at least she had always had that.

“When did you hear the monster?” Emily asked. “Perhaps it was a sort of dream.”

“Weren’t no dream, miss—it happened two weeks since.” William’s voice dropped to a whisper as if he were afraid of being overheard. “You know when the monster comes because it sings a song, miss—the same song every time. You have to close your eyes, tight as you can, and not move an inch, miss. If it sees you so much as breathe, then you will be the one it chooses.”

“Chooses?” Emily asked.

“Yes, miss.” William shuddered, his gaze turning inward as if he was indeed remembering something terrible that had truly happened. “When the monster stops singing, you know that it has chosen the boy it will eat.”

“I must confess that I have never heard of a monster that sings, William.” Emily did her best to lighten the atmosphere. “Tell me, what song does it sing?”

“It’s an old song, miss, called ‘The Cruel Mother.’ Mr. Markham said it was a song older than Halifax, older than this house, even, and that is very old.”

The old ways, Emily thought. Old magic, old superstitions, even old folk music seems to swirl around this mystery like a thick fog.

“Can you sing it to me?” Emily asked the boys as one by one they shook their heads.

“We’re afraid to, miss, in case it calls the monster back.” William swallowed hard. “But I will hum the tune to you if you want.”

Emily nodded, and William turned his head until she could hear his breath in her ear.