“And that?” He nodded toward a long narrow building lined with copper doors. “They look like garages.”

“They are. Twenty of them, built in a day when few people could afford cars. An obscene luxury . . . though admittedly, one I can appreciate.”

We walked to the garages. Most of the windows in those fancy copper doors had been smashed and some of the doors themselves were ripped open, revealing only debris inside.

“Not terribly exciting,” I said. “And I’m not picking up so much as a twinge to tell me where to go next. Any more Holmes quotes for me?”

His brows arched. “Is that who I was quoting?”

“You know damned well you were. Not for the first time.”

“It is entirely accidental.”

“Right, so you’ve never read Sherlock Holmes? Or seen any of the endless movies and TV shows?”

His brows shot higher. “That would imply I have time for such frivolities. I don’t watch television or movies, and while I read a fair bit, fiction would hardly advance my education. Data, data, data. I cannot make bricks without clay.”

I crossed my arms and glowered up at him. “Obviously, you’ve made an exception.”

“I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

He laughed, and it was a glorious thing to hear, and I wanted . . . I wanted more. I wanted to capture this mood and hold on to it. Abandon any purpose for being here, grab his hand and race around to the lake side, show him the best place to climb up and gaze out over the water, to explore the ruins and not care why we’d come. Seize this playful mood of his and see how far I could take it. To be immature and, yes, childish.

The moment I thought that, I heard a child’s giggle. I spun around.

“Olivia?” Gabriel said.

He stepped closer, shades off as he looked about, frowning slightly, but the good humor lingering in his eyes, along with a warmth and an openness I hadn’t seen there before.

The giggle came again. I wanted to ignore it. Go away and let me have my moment. It might never come again and—

A small figure slipped from the shadows of the garages. It was the blond girl from my dreams and visions. She wore Mary Jane shoes and an organdy party dress covered in roses.

I spun to check on Gabriel.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’s still there.”

He followed my gaze, and his frown deepened.

“He doesn’t see me.” She tilted her head, her eyes fixed on him. “Not really. But he senses I’m here.”

I remembered the alley, how we’d been separated and I’d seen Gwrach y Rhibyn washing what seemed to be his shirt. I glanced back at him. “Stay close, okay?”

Another lift of his brows, as if to say, Of course.

“He will,” the girl said. “For as long as you let him. And you must let him. Both of them. It’s when you choose that you are doomed. All of you. All of us.”

“I’m not good with riddles,” I said.

“Olivia . . . ?” Gabriel’s voice was low, as if to avoid frightening away whatever he could not see.

“It’s the girl,” I said.

“The girl?” She scrunched up her nose. “I have a name. Many of them.”

“And they are . . . ?”

“You already know a few. Matilda. Eden. Olivia. I have more, but the others aren’t as important.”

“So you’re . . . me? Some memory of myself?”

“I am you, and I’m not you. I’m all of you. All of them. They are you, and they are not you.”

“More riddles. Great.”

Her nose scrunched again. “They aren’t riddles. They’re facts. You just don’t understand them. I need to tell you the story.”

“Is that why we were summoned here?”

She hesitated. Then she gave a sly smile. “Yes, that’s exactly why—”

“How’d you do it?”

“Summon you? I . . .”

“You didn’t. Someone else did, for some other purpose.”

“Yes, but it’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

“It shouldn’t be. In the larger scheme of things, it’s inconsequential. This is important.” She held out her handful of black and white stones. “The rest?” She scooped up sand from around her feet and let it run through her fingers. “The rest is not. What you find here will be terrible. But, in the end, it is but a distraction luring you from the path.”

“So you know what I’m supposed to find here?”

“Yes.”

“Will you lead me to it?”

“No. I will tell you a story, and then you should leave. What lies here is best not found. Not by you. Not by anyone, if that were possible. It will only interfere. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

“And if I disagree?”

“Then you’ll have to find it yourself. I’ll not bring you pain.”

I turned to Gabriel. “There’s something here I’m supposed to find, but she won’t help me. She wants to tell me a story.”

I thought his answer would be quick. Forget that and get to work. Find what we were brought here for.

“Hear the story,” he said. “This is the second time she’s tried to tell you. You should listen.”

I glanced at her. “Fine. Go on.”