Jack’s song moved through the crowns of the birches, never settling, skirting the line between the Wood and what passed for sky in a place that ended where the trees ended. Like Allie’s song, Jack’s song had always been separate from the family symphony—hardly surprising given the unique combination of Dragon Prince, sorcerer, and Wild Power. Charlie stood for a moment, wrapped in what was almost a symphony on its own, well aware that with very little encouragement, Jack’s song would fill the Wood until it was the only song she could hear. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Hands clenched so tightly her knuckles ached, she concentrated on not hearing him, not veering toward him, pulled by the power of his song.

Fortunately, Charlie had been walking the Wood for almost as long as Jack had been alive.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, following a fiddle through the maples, “I’ve been walking the Wood for almost as long as Jack’s been alive.” Irony was a bitch.

The fiddle joined a drum and led into the shadows under the oldest oaks where she lost the melody. Drums often led back to the aunties and she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. Them. They’d poke and they’d pry and, while misdirection was possible, she’d pay for it later. Where the aunties were concerned, later was a guarantee. Avoidance had been working for her so far, so avoidance remained her best bet.

Spanish guitars. An accordion. A pipe organ that made the leaves on the alders quiver.

Curiosity almost sent her after a marching band, but the memory of the 2011 Rose Parade stopped her. Who knew massed potted roses would be enough greenery to give her an exit from the Wood? Or that the Rose Queen would be so high-strung? Although the screaming and the flailing had provided an opportunity for Charlie to slip away.

Power prickling under her skin, she cocked her head to catch something that sounded like a bluegrass mandolin. Richer. Fuller. A little like a cittern . . . No, a bouzouki. Flat picking “Snug in a Blanket,” interwoven around a bass guitar, a fiddle, and a bodhran. Irish then, not Greek.

Now that was a worthy distraction.