I won’t say I wasn’t a little nervous myself. I know. I’ve spent all kinds of time with Galfreya and her fairy court, but this was a whole other ball game. I’d heard enough stories about people getting on the wrong side of a hot-tempered cousin not to approach a situation such as this without a healthy dose of caution. But while you can worry forever about what might go wrong, and make all the safeguards in the world so that it won’t, in the end you still just have to do it.

So I took a steadying breath and called the cerva’s name, or at least as much of a name as we had for him. I hoped it would be enough. Without his true name, we could only hope to get his attention. Maybe he would be curious enough to see who was trying to summon him. Maybe not. All we could do was try.

But I tried to feel positive as I sent his name out into the forest.

Walks-with-Dreams.

Once, twice, three times.

And we waited.

I have to admit I felt a little self-conscious yodeling “Walks-with-Dreams” off into the woods at the top of my lungs—like a low-grade version of one of those dreams where you’re up on stage playing a tune to a huge crowd and suddenly realize you forgot to put your pants on before the show. Here in the meadow, everybody was just looking at me and nothing much was happening in response to my call. It wasn’t that big a surprise to me because I know that the otherworld has never been about answering to our beck and call. Normally, you’d have about as much of a chance attracting the attention of a cousin as you would teaching a mouse to play a jig.

But then I sensed a change. In the air, in me—I’m not sure. I just became aware of a difference. It took me a few moments to realize that it was the forest going quiet all around us.

I’m not sure the others felt it. Or at least they weren’t showing it. Glancing at their faces I saw that they were starting to get that look of boredom people develop when they have to wait too long for something to happen—even when they are in a dangerous situation. But I knew that Cassie heard what I heard—or rather the lack of what there was to hear. The normal sounds around us were withdrawing. I could still hear birdsong, the chitter of squirrels, the droning of insects, but they seemed far away now. Muffled, as though they were coming to us from the other side of a window.

Con turned to me. “So, how do we know that anything’s even going to—”

“Shh,” Cassie told him.