I turned to look at him.

“Yes?” he said.

Did you really just suggest that emotional pain is worse than physical?

He repeated, “Yes?” with a touch of impatience.

I said, “Nothing,” and continued toward the pool.

“Am I arguing with myself, Olivia? What exactly did the girl . . .”

He trailed off. When I looked back, he was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gabriel?”

The sun flashed, as it had done earlier, and I was again plunged into night. This time there were lights everywhere, the Villa glowing with them. Music poured from the open windows. Not ethereal fae music, but the sounds of a string quartet. I could hear chatter and laughter, too, human in origin. The house was whole and new, sparkling in the moonlight. Figures walked down the curving steps.

“Oh my,” a girlish voice said. “Thank goodness Nathaniel installed an elevator. I only wish it was working already.”

Two other feminine voices laughed with her. They turned a curve into the moonlight. None looked older than me. All three were wearing gorgeous Empire-waisted dresses. The one in the middle was no more than twenty, with finger-curled blond hair. She’d referred to Nathaniel Mills by his given name, which left little doubt who this was. His bride, Letitia Roosevelt.

But if my history was right, Letitia had never spent a night in this house. She . . .

I looked up at the Villa again, the lights blazing, music and laughter pouring out.

It’s Letitia’s grand welcoming party. The first time she saw the house her husband built. And the last time she sees it, because . . .

I wheeled and stared at the swimming pool. Then I turned back to the three girls.

“No,” I said. “You can’t—”

They stepped right through me, still chattering and giggling.

“Aren’t you glad we pulled you away from that dull party?” said one of Letitia’s companions—a dark-haired beauty with perfect skin and bright blue eyes.

“I know we’re glad to meet you,” the other said. “The social life here is as dull as that party. I’m sure the three of us can liven it up.” She was light-haired and green-eyed, as strikingly beautiful as her friend. “Oh! Is that the pool?”

“It is,” Letitia said. “There’s a bathhouse over there.”

“Are there any suits?” the brunette asked.

The light-haired girl giggled. “Do we need them?”

Letitia turned bright red. The other two giggled, and she tried to shake off her embarrassment. Whatever the time period, no girl wants to seem uncool in front of her new friends.

“Don’t listen to her,” the brunette said. “We’d never do anything so shocking.” She grinned. “Not when there’s a house full of people close by.” She walked to the pool, lifted her skirt, and lowered herself beside the water. Then she dangled her fingers and let out an exclamation. “It’s warm! What magic has your handsome groom wrought to accomplish that?”

“There’s a heating system of some sort,” Letitia said. “I don’t quite understand it.”

“Who cares?” said the light-haired girl. “If it makes swimming water warm at night, it is the best kind of magic.” She tugged off pointy, low-heeled shoes and then reached under her skirt. She paused and looked at Letitia. “You won’t be shocked if I remove my stockings, will you?”

“Not if that’s all you remove,” the brunette said with a laugh. There was something about that laugh . . . a tinkling music almost too low for the ear to detect.

They’re fae.

“No,” I said.

I hurried over to the two girls, the light-haired one now sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in. The brunette swished her hand back and forth in the water, and under the surface, seaweed swirled about her hand, like the spats on a horse.

“Come here, Letty,” the light-haired girl called. “Sit with us.”

“Look at the water,” her companion said. “Isn’t it marvelous.”

They reached out their hands as Letitia walked over.

“No!” I said, jumping between them. I turned to the brunette. “Don’t do this. She’s not responsible. He is.”

I knew it was pointless. These were only phantasms, memories. But the brunette met my gaze, and she smiled, a terrible and beautiful smile.

“We know who is responsible. And this is how we repay him. Take from him as he took from us. That is our way. Death is quick. Regret is not.”

I remembered Gabriel saying almost the same thing, first to the men in the parking garage, then to James. Letitia walked through me and took the young women’s hands.

“Shall we go for a swim?” the light-haired one said.

“What?” Letitia forced a ragged laugh and pulled back. “You are really quite amusing, but I ought to go—” When the women didn’t release her, she said, “This isn’t funny. Please let me go.”

They opened their hands, but her fingers remained stuck to theirs.

“Wh-what?” she said, backpedaling uselessly.

“We’re taking you for a swim, pretty Letty. A swim in your new pool.”

They wrapped their arms around her and leapt, and as they did, their gowns puddled at their feet and their hair tumbled from its pins, cascading over their bare backs, pitch-black now on one, glowing white on the other. The brunette’s skin darkened, too, turning as black as her hair. Their bodies thickened, necks lengthening, as they transformed.