Gaby looked down again. To her horror, it was immediately obvious that the stones were scales, that the whole curving path was the coiled back of a snake. “No, no, no!” she cried. Perception and belief were everything in a dream. It would not be a snake unless she saw it as a snake. “It’s a road, just an ordinary road,” she said, and closed her eyes, hoping to make it true. But when she opened them, it was still plainly a snake. Now fear was gripping her in earnest, though she still couldn’t have put a name to it. “Listen, Matthias!” she said. “It’s not a snake, it doesn’t have to be. You’re afraid of snakes, aren’t you?”

“Terrified.”

She nodded vigorously. “This is a nightmare. Your nightmare.”

He shrugged. “I agree that it’s a nightmare, though I don’t know why you have to call it mine.”

“No,” she said, “an actual, literal nightmare. You’re dreaming, Matthias. None of this is real.”

He looked at her like she was speaking another language. Meeting his eyes, she saw that same dark, hard-to-read look, and for a horrifying moment she thought that he was right: it couldn’t be a nightmare. In a nightmare one was afraid, and there was no fear in Matthias’s eyes. But then he spoke.

“I wish that was true.” There was no wistfulness, no pain in his voice, only a dull resignation. “I’ve been on this road longer than you have. It’s real enough.”

It was not fear in his eyes; it was dread. Fear could only exist alongside hope. Dread came when hope had expired. The weight of it was so heavy on him that Gaby was almost drawn in, almost forgot who she was. She had to close her eyes and turn away to remember.

“No,” she said, looking down at the yellow scales under her feet. “It’s not true. Soon you’ll be awake, and you’ll barely even remember this.” She would be awake. She would be with Will. The thought gave her the courage to look up into his eyes again. “You will, Matthias. I’m sorry for whatever happened to give you dreams like this. But you’ll be out of it soon.” If she left him now, he’d eventually wake up naturally, but she couldn’t bear abandoning him to the bleak hopelessness she saw in his eyes. “If you won’t wake yourself up, then let’s get to the end, together. You’ll see that I’m right. Come on!” She grabbed his hand and began running. Down, down the road, watching the golden scales flash under her feet. He followed, seemingly unable to stop himself. She turned to look at his face. The faintest flicker of light was growing in his eyes—if not hope, at least enjoyment.

“You’re crazy,” he remarked. “You want to be destroyed as fast as possible.” But there was the hint of a smile around his mouth.

Gaby laughed, shrugged, kept running. “I think you’ve been walking long enough. Let’s see what’s really at the end.” They ran faster and faster, until the snake seemed to be sliding underneath them, and Gaby couldn’t tell which was doing the moving, themselves or the road. The light grew stronger and stronger as they ran. Matthias’s hand in hers tightened to a painful grip, but he kept pace with her. Then suddenly the trees fell off, the road broadened, and the light flashed out in a tremendous twin blaze. All was confusion—they were tumbling off the road—and then it was above them, a huge viper’s head with eyes that blazed with a light like the setting sun’s.

Gaby was numb, was frozen, could not feel or think or see anything but those great, glowing eyes, with the gaping pits underneath them. Somewhere, a faint voice in her mind was telling her she needed to look away, needed to unmake the viper or at the very least break herself out of the dream, but all she could do was stare at the golden, lancelike head that was bending to destroy her…

“Gaby? Hey, Gaby!” A voice was calling from somewhere, someone’s body was being shaken. The world was sliding in two directions, and Gaby could just feel Matthias’s hand again, just give it a last, comforting squeeze, before the golden world of the snake slid away and she woke with a start on the table in the children’s reading room.

The librarian was gripping her shoulder, and stepped back as Gaby’s head flew up wildly. “Hey,” she said, somewhat awkwardly in a voice meant to soothe. “You were pretty fast asleep there.”

Gaby looked at her wide-eyed, still feeling the paralysis of terror in her body.

“Were you having a nightmare?”

Gaby swallowed. “Yeah,” she said.

“It’s okay,” the librarian said. “It was just a dream.”

“There’s no ‘just’ about it,” said Gaby under her breath. That had been a very, very unusual dream. She never lost control like that, never let fear overcome her, not in dreams. Not anymore. The memory of feeling so helpless was deeply unsettling; it was like finding herself a child all over again, needing to learn the same lessons she had mastered years ago. She shook her shoulders in an attempt to shake it off. The librarian was partly right, a dream wasn’t important now. Now she had other business to attend to. She looked out the window, and got her second shock: the sky was the slate-blue of early evening, just after sunset. She had slept for hours.

“We’re closing now,” said the librarian. “I remembered you hadn’t come out yet, and I thought I’d better find you.”

“Thanks,” said Gaby, gathering her things. She hadn’t had a chance to calm down from the dream, and here was a fresh source of panic: twilight was the very worst time to be out when shadow-hounds were on your trail. She wouldn’t even see them until they were upon her. And the library was closing.

And Will had not come. She reminded herself, as she followed the librarian down the stairs, that it had been a slim chance at best, but this did nothing to salve her disappointment.

She was beginning to formulate a new plan when the librarian said, “A girl came by and asked about you. She wanted to leave a note. I have it up at the desk.”

A girl? Gaby followed her to the main desk, wondering dumbly who it could be. From behind the desk the librarian pulled out a folded sheet of thick sketchbook paper.

There were three messages on the paper. Near the top, it said, in Will’s handwriting, It’s beginning again, but this time we’ll end it. Below that, in a slanting italic hand, read We’ll be waiting for you at the Oakland Cemetery.  –Julia And in the bottom corner, in Will’s and Gaby’s secret language, just two words: Trust them.

Julia, thought Gaby wonderingly. She would never have expected any of Will’s siblings to reinvolve themselves in this, after escaping it three years ago. Will’s messages were plain: the words he’d spoken to her in her dream last night, and the note in their language, assurances that this message came ultimately from him. But why had he not come himself? She supposed, if he had Julia (and most likely Nick as well; she couldn’t imagine the twins separating) with him, they might have split up to go to as many places as possible. Still, if this place had been on his list at all, wouldn’t it have been at the top? She couldn’t believe that she’d so lost touch with him, or he with her, not to know at a glance where the best place for them to meet was. Why hadn’t he come here himself, and sent the others to check less likely places?

Well, it was fruitless to speculate now. She knew the Oakland Cemetery, though she’d never been there. She could take another taxi. She made the call and walked out to the student center, where there would still be people she could wait with.

The drive through town at this hour was miserably slow. Gaby had to discipline herself not to look out the rear window, not to keep watch for shadows. She wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway, and looking would make her more nervous. She needed a clear head for the next step. Instead she kept her eyes on the horizon, on the fading grey light. She would not be able to see clearly again until dawn, but a dark night and street lights were better than the indiscriminate grey.

In spite of her resolution, Gaby couldn’t suppress a churning anxiety that rose as they came near the cemetery. When they finally arrived, she sat in the back seat, motionless, until the driver turned around and gave her an inquiring look. Slowly she thumbed through her wad of bills and handed him the fare; slowly she shouldered her backpack and stepped outside.

This seemed like the worst possible idea. It was night; the cemetery was closed; nobody else was around. There were three streetlights in view, one of them flickering unreliably. A restless breeze shook the trees all around, shaking the faint little shadows they cast. There was no way she would be able to see if she’d been followed, see if the hounds had met her here first. It was the end of the road: she was isolated and stuck here, no quick exit, no sheltering crowd. She would never, never have come if it hadn’t been for Will’s mark on the note. We’ll be waiting for you. Trust them.

Gaby looked around, but saw no sign of Will or Nick or Julia. She wished the note had been a little more specific about where and when they’d be waiting. She’d had the cab drop her off right at the gate, as that seemed the most reasonable place, but no one was here. The gates were locked, so if they were inside, they’d have to come out and get her. She decided against calling out. If they were here, they’d have seen the cab’s lights pull up. And she certainly didn’t want the attention of anyone else who may be here.

The more she thought about it the more ridiculous this seemed. How could they wait for her? The hounds would catch up to them in an hour or two, wherever in the city they stayed. They’d have to keep moving, as she had. She had wondered briefly about that when she’d read the note, but Will’s mark had chased away any doubts. Will did not make faulty plans—at least not ones with such an obvious fault. And it was a fundamental rule of her partnership with Will that she trust him when he asked her to, and vice versa. They had never let each other down before, never failed to spot a vulnerability in a scheme, never failed to carry through on their promises. So where was he?

Over the steady rustling of the trees came a clearer, more pointed sound; a footfall on the dried leaves. Gaby listened intently. Another step, and another. Too slow to be a squirrel. Too light to be a person. Moving with the slow, rocking rhythm of a four-footed creature. Gaby turned her head toward the sound, scanned the area desperately, but the layered amber darkness was too dim, too shifting, to make anything out. Trying to calm and silence the blood pounding wildly in her head, she closed her eyes and listened. Step. Step. Step. Sniff.

Yes. It was unmistakable. The sharp, careful sniff of a hound. Gaby wanted to weep, wanted to scream, wanted to cry out for Will to come, wherever he was, now. It was here in the darkness, and she was alone, and every nightmare she’d had in the last three years was coming true. She stood still, paralyzed with fear, hoping maybe, possibly, it wasn’t real. Then it howled.

She was running before the howl ended, running blind, running toward nothing, only away. She knew they had her now, and there was nothing she could do and no one to save her, but at least she would be caught running. How much time did she have? They ran fast, faster than she could. Maybe minutes. Maybe only seconds. Pounding down the uneven gravel road, she wondered how Hannah had felt, in the second after she’d tripped, before the dogs were on top of her. She wondered if their breath was warm.

Suddenly a stark white light flooded the road. Gaby saw her own shadow streaming sharp and black before her, and the head of another shadow just coming level with her. With a yelp the other shadow stopped, fell back, and Gaby turned around, gasping for breath.

There was a strong floodlight near the cemetery fence, turned toward Gaby and blinding her to anything behind it. It showed the hound’s shadow, coursing toward the source of the light, toward a slim figure that stood in front of it. The figure raised its arm and hurled something, and Gaby heard the hound yelp again. The shadow slid sideways, toward the edge of the light, but the floodlight followed it. Gaby found herself standing in shadow again. Then a clear girl’s voice called, “Gaby! Come back to the fence, hurry!”