Madeleine’s hands trembled. Now was a fine time for Hæra to show off her horse form again: without any warning, in the middle of a tempest, scaring Madeleine half to death. Then again, maybe it was safer for her in the storm, in that shape? She might be more resilient, except…what was it Hæra had said?

Storms come from Stormhorses. Each-uisge who grow wings and unleash their power.

She’d also said, If my herd saw me, and it was easy to catch me, my life would be forfeit.

Hæra would never wander around during a storm in her true form. Or her human form, for that matter, although she said only three Each-uisge would recognize it: the herd’s Sire, her mother, and her brother. So what in the world had just looked at Madeleine through the window?

She heard a noise outside, loud enough to be heard even over the wind.

A neigh.

Not like any horse’s neigh she knew, though. It was low-pitched but hideous in its volume. As if it had come from enormous lungs. She’d never thought a neigh could sound menacing before.

Her flashlight guided her toward the sink. Seriously, was she imagining things? Or was Hæra foolish enough to walk around in her true shape? If so, she’d better get in here. Madeleine could give her a piece of her mind, then kiss her, then say she was absolutely ecstatic to meet the trow. She’d do anything Hæra needed her to do, because they were in each other’s keeping. Just as long as Hæra was safe.

Getting near a window was something else you weren’t supposed to do during a storm, but she’d thrown out so many commonsense rules by now. What was one more?

Thunder clapped so loudly that she cringed. It sounded as if it were directly above the cottage roof. She found the edge of the sink with her hands and leaned forward toward the window. Nothing but darkness and barely visible streaks of rain on the glass.

Mere seconds after the thunderclap, lightning struck again—a bolt striking the ground itself within easy view of the kitchen window. By itself, that would have been enough to frighten Madeleine, but tonight she could only stare at the horse that did, indeed, stand on the other side of the glass.

She only saw it for a few seconds. But that was more than enough time to know it wasn’t Hæra.

It was huge, bigger even than Hæra had been on the shore. It was black, where Hæra had been pale. Its eyes were—oh, she must be imagining this, she absolutely must—red.

The lightning faded. Spots danced before her eyes. She blinked, readjusting to the darkness even as her soul began gibbering in terror.

The neigh, again. Even darker and deeper than before.