Page 31

Mrs. Langton looked toward the windows lining the dining room. Beyond the glass, the forest rose dark and green behind Maple Grove's lawn.

"You need to hurry."

"We are."

"No." Her gaze remained fixed on the trees. "You're being careful."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not when careful becomes slow."

A bird landed on the feeder outside, fluttered its wings once, then immediately launched itself back into the air. Mrs. Langton watched it go.

"Harriet won't tell you," she said.

A chill crawled over my skin.

"Tell me what?"

"She'll be the first."

"The first what?"

Her eyes returned to mine. "To die."

The sounds of the dining room seemed to fall away. Silverware clinked against plates. Someone laughed near the television. A cart squeaked through the doorway. All of it became distant.

"What?"

"Fairy magic is woven into the barrier between realms. Older fairy magic more deeply than most." Mrs. Langton folded her napkin with slow, precise movements. "Whatever is happening beneath those woods is drawing upon it."

"Mrs. Wilton said the veil was poisoning her."

"Harriet says many things when she wants to prevent people from worrying."

"But she would have told me if⁠—"

"No, dear." Mrs. Langton's voice softened. "She wouldn't."

My throat tightened. "How long does she have?"

"I don't know."

"That isn't good enough."

"No." Her expression turned unbearably sad. "It isn't."

The call bell above the dining-room door chimed. Once. Twice. Then three more rooms lit up in quick succession. I pushed my chair back. "Stay here."

Mrs. Langton glanced down at her wheelchair. "I had planned on sprinting away."

Under other circumstances, I would've laughed. Today, I couldn't. I hurried down the hallway and entered Room Twelve first. Mrs. Jenkins sat upright in bed, clutching the blanket beneath her chin.

"Mrs. Jenkins? What's wrong?"

Her watery eyes shifted toward the window. "Could you ask her to stop?"

"Ask who?"