“Odd time of the year for fog,” one of her escorts murmured.

And that is why I fear it, Morag thought.

Then she rode out of the trees and saw slivers of light coming from shuttered windows not too far ahead of her, heard the sleepy stirring of animals.

And heard Death’s summons.

But not quite here. Death passed over that house with the slivers of light, pausing for a moment before moving on. There was no one here who needed her, but up ahead…

“Go up to the house,” she said quietly. “See if the people there know where the Hunter can be found. This is the end of the journey. She has to be nearby.”

“Are you going up to the house?”

“No. I’m required elsewhere.”

“Then we should come with you.”

“You can’t. You’re still among the living.”

She rode away before they could argue, letting the dark horse pick his way over unfamiliar ground.

A man’s voice to her left. “I thought I heard voices. I think someone is out there.”

She said nothing to the men who stepped away from the stables. She just rode through a stone arch and kept going. If they saw anything at all, it was a black-gowned woman appearing and disappearing in the fog, riding a dark horse with silent hooves like something out of a dream.

She rode on toward a steady glow that defied the fog. When she neared the place, she stopped. It looked as if moonlight had gilded the grass to form a circle. Death waited for her there, but she also felt the summons behind some bushes she glimpsed in a moment when the waning moon freed itself from its veil of clouds. Dismounting, she followed the dark shape of the bushes until she reached the end and could see what was on the other side.

Another circle of moonlight. The ghost of a short-haired woman sat in the center of that light, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees. One of her thighs and both her arms were tattered, as if something had slashed her spirit. And there were four strange wisps of spirit moving around in that circle of light. There wasn’t enough left of any of them to take on a ghostly shape. There was barely enough for her to sense them as spirits that should be gathered. She didn’t know if they would ever be able to return to the world, but perhaps they would find some peace in the Summerland.

She held out her hand to the ghost. “I am the Gatherer of Souls. Come.”

The ghost floated over to her. “Are you going to take Mama, too?”

“Is she in the other circle of light?”

The ghost nodded.

Morag smiled gently. “Yes. I’ll guide you both to the Shadowed Veil so that you can go on to the Summerland.”