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I did. Before I finished, the girl took off, racing around the garages.
"Hey!" I said.
"The next part is over here," she said. "Hurry or you'll miss it!"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I ran after the little girl. There was a tumble of ruins past the garage, some building not strong enough to withstand the crushing hand of nature. I picked my way around it and through a tangle of bushes and--
Three men stood there. I stopped short, backing up into Gabriel, who caught me. I glanced over at him. He was scanning the landscape--the field and trees, the lake just visible behind them. He gave no sign of seeing the men, and when I looked again, I realized why. The one closest to me was dressed in an old-fashioned hunting jacket and boots, his hair slicked back, with massive sideburns.
Men from a different era. Ghosts or visions. One leaned on a shovel. Another held a gun. The third was dapper, wearing gloves and a bowler hat. When I turned, the Villa and all its buildings were gone, and I saw only field and trees and holes. Construction had just begun.
"I'm telling you, there's something here," said the man leaning on the shovel. The foreman, I guessed. He had a thick Scottish accent.
"And I'm not denying it," said the man with the hunting rifle. "We've got squatters, Mr. Mills. That's what happens when you build on land long empty. Folks consider it theirs."
The foreman shook his head. "If it's squatters, then where are the huts? The tents? Whatever's here, it's not natural."
"It's perfectly natural," the hunter said. "We've seen them and we've heard them. They're canny, always flitting about, hiding on us. But you're making a fool of yourself, Campbell, filling Mr. Mills's ear with your old-world nonsense."
"Mr. Napier?" The dapper man--Nathaniel Mills--spoke to the hunter. "I believe you have work to do. I want those fox holes cleared out today."
"I'd rather be clearing the squatters," Napier said. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I believe they're a greater nuisance than a few foxes."
Mills dismissed the hunter, and the man stalked off, grumbling under his breath. When he was gone, Mills turned to the foreman.
"Whatever's out there isn't canny at all," Mills said. "It's uncanny. Unnatural. I've heard laughing when no one's there. I've seen figures that disappear in broad daylight. The other night, when I was walking the grounds with my dogs, I heard music and my hounds wouldn't take another step. They tore back to the motorcar and cowered there. Napier might think me a fool for saying so, but I'll believe what I see and what I hear. My granny used to tell me stories . . ." He peered across the wild yard. "Something's out there, and I'll not bring Letitia here until it's safe."
"You're a wise man, Mr. Mills. Folks like Napier don't understand. They think every danger can be fought with a good hunting rifle."
"This one cannot." Mills looked at the foreman. "I trust you know how it can be handled?"
"Not myself, sir, but I know folks that do. The question is how you'll want it dealt with. Like those foxes, we can smoke them out and hope they'll relocate. That's what I'd advise myself."
Mills shook his head briskly. "No. I told Napier I don't have time for that with the foxes, and the same goes for these . . . whatever they are. I want them gone. Permanently. Get them gone and call in a priest to bless the land. I want a good Christian home for my wife and our children."
The foreman looked uneasy. "These aren't foxes, sir. They're--"
"--a far more dangerous sort of vermin. Get them gone. If you can't, I'll find someone who can."
Mills strode off, disappearing as he walked. I turned back to the foreman. He'd vanished, too. The ruins reappeared, and the little girl, who stood watching me, waiting.
"There were fae here," I said. "But they weren't the sort that are in Cainsville."
"They were and they weren't. When the woodlands began to vanish in the Old World, some fae came to the new one and founded towns like Cainsville."
"Where they could control their environment. Keep to themselves and maintain the boundaries. Mingle with humans only as much as they cared to mingle."
"Yes. As those safe havens grew, some of the wilder fae found homes there. But in the early days, they took refuge where they could. In places like this. Today, wherever they might live, the Tylwyth Teg and the Cwn Annwn are kept safe by human ignorance. One cannot fear what one doesn't believe exists. In the early days, though, there were more believers, and sometimes it ended like this . . ."
The sun flashed, blinding bright, forcing my eyes shut, and I reopened them to a moonless night. Men carried torches at the perimeter of the main property. A dozen men with torches and bags. They dumped something from the burlap sacks in a ring around the grounds.
"What is this?" one man called. "It looks like . . . metal shavings."
Iron. They're sowing iron.
I shivered in spite of myself and rubbed my arms. I glanced around, but Gabriel and the little girl were gone. It was just me, alone in the yard, watching the men work. At a whisper, I saw a shadow slip behind a tree.
