She sidles up beside me as I step through the doorway and slips her arm under mine. I resist the urge to pull away—best just to grin and bear it.

“What’s your name, hon’?” she asks, touching my arm with her other hand as Brennan steps in behind me and shuts the door.

Up close, her breath is ripe with alcohol.

“Um, Tiergan?” I reply, turning a bit to the left for some fresh air. “And you?”

“Oh, you can just call me Sky, sugar—all my friends do.”

“Sky.”

“That’s right, sugar!

“Why don’t you all just follow Tiergan and me,” she adds, nodding back to Brennan as she pulls me forward, down the wide stone and oak corridor. The smile in her voice is audible, even when I can’t see her, but it feels entirely false.

“Are you expecting Torrin back soon?” Keely asks, stepping up beside us as we walk. The dog follows closely at her heels.

“Well, aren’t you just the perkiest little thing,” Sky exclaims warmly—but I feel her hand tighten ever so slightly on my arm. Nails, not pads.

“Garvey!” she barks at the dog. “I thought I put you outside!” Then to Keely, all soft and smiling, “Be a dear and take him back out, will you?”

She pulls me forward again, but I’ve had enough.

“Keely,” I say, extricating my arm from her grasp. “You go. I’ll take the dog.” She reaches out to grab my arm again, but I step out of her reach and head down the hallway, calling, “Come on, boy!” Brennan scowls at me as I pass, though whether in agreement or in opposition, I can’t tell. Garvey hesitates a moment—perhaps to shoot a withering glance at Sky—and then turns reluctantly to follow.

“Oh, fine,” Sky protests, ”he can stay.”

I stop and turn—she hasn’t moved from where I escaped her. Garvey bumps up against my hip. I wait silently for her to make up her mind.

“Oh, Tiergan, you’re so serious!” she says, grinning—but even in the dim light, I can see tension around her eyes.

Garvey licks at my arm, wagging his tail, and I rub his head in return. He turns and trots, clattering, down the hall—pushing indifferently past Sky—then stops to wait for us to follow.

“I swear!” Sky says, laughing nervously. “Torrin treats them like they’re people, sometimes. Teaches them horrible habits.”

Are you talking about his dogs? Or his guests?

She waits a moment longer, but finally seems to realize I won’t be returning to her side, and she turns. “Well, come on, then,” she calls without looking back, and we follow her following Garvey down the hall.

Before I can stop her, Keely jumps forward and extends her arm, saying, “Hey there, boy!”

“Keely,” I whisper, urgently, and put my hand on her shoulder to pull her back.

But I’m wrong: across the courtyard, the massive beast lurches into a run, tongue suddenly lolling out and tail wagging furiously. Keely turns, confused, and I withdraw my hand.

“Sorry . . . I . . . .”

“What, him?” she replies with a snort, “I know him—he’s harmless. He just likes to play.”

As if to prove her point, he slows in his approach and stops short. He drops downward, tongue still hanging out, daring her to chase him. She doesn’t wait for my permission to oblige him.

“Careful, Keely—they’re not called wolfhounds for nothing.” But the body language is pretty clear . . . . I guess I’m just being paranoid.

Keely darts at him, then again as he dekes aside. In spite of myself, I turn to Brennan and smile, but his eyes are fixed across the courtyard.

“Something wrong?” I ask, suddenly alert again.

“Hmm?” he replies, turning back. He shakes his head—“No, it’s fine.”—then looks over at Keely and the dog. “Don’t we have business here?”

The smile fades from my lips. “Yeah.” I guess.

One dog down, a dozen to go. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

“Keely, let’s go!” I call.

She takes one more pass at him, then stands. “Okay, boy, I’ve got to go now.” She holds her hand out and waits. The dog stays low, holding out for more, but only for a couple of seconds. Then he climbs to his feet and steps up to her hand. “Good boy,” she says, rubbing his side.

“They’re used to Torrin,” she adds as she returns, the dog trailing happily behind. “I’m sure they know the difference, but they treat us like humans.

“I mean, they’re not all like this guy,” she adds, laughing. “But Torrin once told me wolfhounds are useless as guard dogs, and all of his seem pretty friendly.”

Funny, that’s not what I remember of wolfhounds.

“Let’s get this over with, okay?”

I turn down the corridor and Keely and her not-so-little friend drop in behind me. I hear Brennan take up the rear.

The carving on the door really is quite impressive: a Sessile Oak, stylized, but still very recognizable, carefully detailed with leaves and acorns. I run my fingers over a branch—the wood is smooth and solid to my touch—then reach up and pull the cord beside the door. A bell peals out loudly inside, but only once. A real, actual bell. Of course. I pull the cord twice more, for good measure.

“Um,” Keely says, from behind me, “I know you had to make sure I got here safely, but . . . shouldn’t I be the one doing that?”

Oh. “Right, sorry,” I say, and step quickly to the side. “I forgot.” I turn to her and grin, a little sheepishly. “Kind of got used to being in the lead, I guess.”

“Mm, it’s okay. Just”—she grins dangerously as she steps forward—”don’t let it happen again.”

I laugh, as I’m supposed to.

On the other side of the door, footsteps approach. “Well, somebody’s home,” I say, to no one in particular. Beside me, I feel the dog’s nose on my elbow. He starts wagging his tail as my eyes connect with his. For an instant, I’m tempted to do something about it, but he’s just being a dog . . . . I guess it’s not his fault what he is.

“Fine,” I growl, and gently tousle the hair between his ears. He licks at my hand as I take it away.

Finally, somebody arrives and fumbles with the bolt. After a moment’s confusion, the door swings open to reveal a tall, thin, middle-aged woman wearing a very bright pink and orange outfit, a flowy thing of silk, from the look of it. She has a tall glass in her hand, that looks like orange juice, but smells like vodka. She looks past Keely, and her eyes rake me up and down. A smile that would chill even Cormac spreads across her face.

“Hey, cutie, what can I do for ya?”

Cutie. Um, yeah, sure. Whatever.

“We’re here to see Torrin,” Keely says, kindly inserting herself between me and the woman.

She glances at Keely—a spark of annoyance flits across her face—then returns to me. “Sorry, hon’” she says, shaking her head. She’s back to smiling like she’s looking at dinner. “He took some of the dogs out for a run. I don’t know when he’ll be back. Was he expecting you?”

Her gaze is so intense, I feel compelled to answer. “Um, no. We need to speak to him about . . . ”

“Family business,” Keely interjects.

The woman tears her eyes from me and looks Keely up and down, her smile waning quickly to a scowl. “I didn’t know Torrin had any family.”

“Well, he does,” Keely continues. “So are you going to invite us in, or what?”

My jaw almost drops open, but I catch it in time. Shit, Keely. I hope you know what you’re doing.

The woman glares daggers at Keely for a tiny instant, before covering it with an easy smile. She steps aside and sweeps her arm in. “Why, of course! How rude of me to keep y’all standing out there in the cold.”

She winks at me, and adds, “Please, why don’t you come on in.”

The gravel drive opens up into a clearing of stone pavers, set against a wall of rough, grey field stone. There are three cars parked in the clearing—all big, and all very expensive-looking—and we roll to a stop behind the last of them. It seems unlikely he’s home alone. Not unless he keeps a lot more cars than he needs.

From the look of it, the place really is an old monastery or something—low and long, all stone and slate, tucked into the forest like a place forgotten. The outer wall disappears into the trees to the left, and a tall stone tower pokes up above the roofline from somewhere on the far side of the structure. Narrow lancet windows—all dark—peek out through the stone at random intervals around a wide archway, about a dozen paces in from the car park.

I look around as Brennan kills the engine, but there are no dogs in sight. In fact, save for the parked cars, the place could be abandoned.

I open my door and climb out, and Keely follows behind.

The air is damp and cool in my nose, scented strongly with wood smoke and decaying leaves. Somewhere in the middle distance, probably around the far end of the structure, I can hear the muffled sound of water running over stones.

“We go in?” Brennan asks, as he quietly shuts his door.

I glance at Keely—whose eyes are fixed on the archway—then around into the trees . . . but there’s no one about. I nod to Brennan.

I take the lead as I round the car, and we follow the pathway along the wall. The few windows are a bit too high for me to see in, and the effect leaves me uneasy, as if we’re being watched from behind, but I resist the urge to turn and check.

Within the archway, two massive, intricately carved wooden doors stand open, inwards, revealing a stone stairway up into a tree-lined inner courtyard. Warm light fills the space, cast from wrought-iron lanterns on either side. Under different circumstances, it would probably feel welcoming. But we aren’t welcome guests. Not yet, anyway.

“This the way?” I ask without turning, as I pause at the threshold. But I already know the answer.

“Yeah—up the stairs and to the left. There’s a door with a bell,” Keely says, stopping beside me.

I smile to myself—at least she’s figured that part out. I look to Brennan, but he just shrugs, so I step through.

At the top of the stairs, we emerge into a covered walkway that runs most of the way around the courtyard, supported by carved stone pillars. To the left, a short way down, there’s another heavy wooden door.

Across the courtyard, something grey, shaggy, and huge climbs to its feet and begins to stalk toward us.

I can’t imagine how Torrin will react when we introduce ourselves over his dead wolfhound, but I have a sinking feeling we’re going to find out.

The narrow valley opens up before us as we crest the ridge, a dense expanse of green and copper beech from edge to edge. Brennan down-shifts as we plunge into the darkness beneath the canopy, barely holding the road as it pulls sharply to the left, before straightening out down the valley wall.

“Torrin owns all this?” I ask—not without a little envy—as I peer out into the warm green twilight.

“Uh huh,” she replies bouncily. “The whole valley. There’s a river and everything.”

I glance across Brennan’s arms, down the slope, but the trees are too thick, and the light too dim—I can’t see through to the bottom.

But I have more pressing concerns. I tear myself away from the scenery.

“You think he’s likely to have human visitors today?” I ask.

“I don’t know . . . probably? Like I said, he did every other time I’ve been here.”

Great.

“How did your father . . . deal with them? I mean, how did he get Torrin alone to speak with him?”

“Oh, well . . . he didn’t have to say anything. I mean, they know each other—Torrin just excused himself and took us into his office.”

I nod just as a group of pheasants break cover and flee up the slope to our left. I spin around in my seat to watch, but they disappear from view in the dense underbrush almost instantly.

I can’t help but smile. This place . . . he can’t be all bad, not if he chooses to live here.

I drag my attention out of the forest and back to Keely.

“He’ll recognize you?”

She nods. “I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but, you know . . . it’s not like he’s going mistake us for humans, right?”

I chuckle—no . . . that’s not likely to happen.

She frowns, and adds, “I just hope the dogs aren’t out.”

My smile vanishes in a heartbeat. Dogs?

Brennan shoots me an anxious look, suddenly very alert. He lifts his foot off the accelerator, too.

“You can’t be serious.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, then nods apologetically.

Fuck. “Big dogs? Little dogs?”

“Um, pretty big? Setters, I think they’re called. Um, mostly? One or two wolfhounds. A few others—maybe a dozen in all, last time I was here?”

“A dozen,” I repeat.

I realize my mouth is hanging open and I feel the muscles around it twitch, like they don’t know whether I should laugh or cry.

A lone wolf. Hangs around with humans. Has a pack of dogs.

“What the fuck is with this guy?”

She shrugs apologetically and shakes her head slowly as she says: “Um, they were pretty friendly, last time I was here. I don’t think they’ll give us any trouble . . . .”

“Great.” I plaster on a tense smile and look away.

Outside, the forest slips by, full of warm light and quiet promise, in total opposition to how I feel. But it calls to me, in a way few other places have—its dark underbrush, its giant trees, so thick you’d need three people to reach all the way around them. The urge to be out in it, to run in it, is suddenly almost overwhelming. I want to be out there, free of all this mess. Free of all these weird people.

Is that so much to ask?

I snort out a breath.

Okay. fine, whatever. I’m going to have myself a nice, surreal little visit in the country. Two minutes, we’re in, we’re out. It’ll be fine.

I chuckle, though not because anything’s funny, and ask her, “So, is there anything else I should know before we get there?”

She shakes her head.

I wait a moment for her to change her mind, but she doesn’t. I settle back into my seat, and look down the road, through the forest I can’t go running in.

I guess it won’t be long now.