With a grating sound that made Nat’s teeth hurt and Woody increase his viselike grip on Nat’s arm, the gates opened. They were being allowed in.

Nat laughed shakily. Somebody was having a great big fat joke at their expense. And what if there were guard dogs? What if Iona de Gourney was watching them as they crept up the sweeping drive? What if she was a bad witch? Nat suddenly wished they hadn’t come.

Vast hydrangea bushes the color of oxidized blood flanked the driveway. When they reached the garden, it was so quiet that they were sure Iona de Gourney would know they were there just by hearing them breathe.

“No one else here,” whispered Woody nervously. “Just us?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Nat whispered back grimly. “I bet we’re the only people invited.”

It was peaceful in the garden. Somewhere far off, a lone wood pigeon cooed, and they could hear the low buzz of insects collecting pollen from the many flowers that grew there, their combined scents almost too overpowering in the still evening.

A movement from one of the hydrangea bushes caught Nat’s eye and he motioned to Woody to stand still. They held their breath until a beautiful muntjac deer emerged, her two delicate fawns by her side. The doe paused for a moment and gave the boys an inquisitive glance. She sniffed the air when she saw Woody, sensing something different about him. She tensed for a moment, her ears twitching slightly, then appeared to accept both boys as harmless and glided away, her fawns following behind.

To Nat’s delight, other animals appeared, as if from nowhere. Rabbits gamboled and bucked, and an elderly badger shambled past, ignoring the boys as it snuffled for food. There were goats and a donkey and, most unexpected of all, a pure white peacock, its plumage exquisite lace. Just as the boys began to relax, the peacock gave a series of terrible cries, like a woman screaming. Woody almost jumped into Nat’s arms.

A great black shadow blotted out the sun. It was cold in the shadow, and Nat was scared to look into it, afraid that Iona de Gourney was towering above them in all her terrible glory. He forced himself to look. There in front of them stood an enormous black horse, its head seeming almost as big as Nat’s entire body. Nat, who had never had anything to do with horses in his life, stood rooted to the spot, waiting to be trampled under its hooves, which were bigger than dinner plates.