“No,” he said, turning to me, his eyes flashing silver. “It’s witchlight. The woods are flooding. All the lost creatures are making their way back to the door before it closes.”

“Bill, how do you know about all that?”

He smiled and traced his fingertip along my lips. “I don’t. You’re dreaming. You’re also dreaming that I’m about to kiss you. Is that all right?”

“Yes,” I said, my heart fluttering. “I suppose that would be …”

He pressed his mouth against mine, his lips spreading mine open. I felt the heat of him pouring into me, warming every last inch of me. I pressed against him and felt his heart thud against mine. My heart beat in answer to his. I heard an answering thud from deep in the woods. The door, linked to my heart, was opening wide, beating so loud I could hear it …

I startled awake in the empty bed to the sound of pounding. Bill sat in a chair beside the bed, his face dark in the rain-shadowed room. I saw by his posture that he was alert.

“Bill? Was there moonlight a minute ago? And were you …”

“It’s still raining,” he said, getting to his feet, “and there’s someone at the door. I’ll go and tell them to leave. It’s the middle of the night.”

He left the room before I could stop him. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge for a moment, trying to reconstruct my dream. I went to the window. Through the rain, I saw the woods were filled with an eerie light: a white, glowing mist that rose off the wet ground and flowed along the forest floor like floodwater. It was full of shapes. Dream-Bill had been right. The woods were full of creatures heading toward the door. But how did Bill Carey know that?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I GOT DRESSED in jeans, a turtleneck and heavy socks and then took the Aelvestone out of the bag where I’d stashed it and stuffed it in my pocket, making sure it was carefully wrapped in flannel. I needed one other thing, which I got from my desk, then I crept down the backstairs with my waterproof hiking boots held in my hands, listening to the murmur of voices in the front hall. I could make out one excitable young man’s voice and two lower, more mature male voices besides Bill’s.

“I don’t care how much you need her,” I heard Bill saying as I walked through the library. “She’s not going out in the middle of the night in a rainstorm.”

“It’s only an hour or so till dawn. And I’d like to see her myself and hear her say that. Who the hell are you anyway?”