room calling Ms. Bryce, then she rushed through the bathroom and Philip's bedroom and down the back stairs.
'Tristan, where are you?' she cried, running out to the car. She jammed her key into the ignition.
'Tristan, where are you?'
Ivy took off, her wheels slipping, her door rattling. She opened and slammed it again while she was speeding downhill. As fast as she drove, as dangerously fast as she took the curves on the wet asphalt, she felt as if she would never get there.
'Angels,' she prayed, tears running down her face, 'don't let him… don't let him.'
As soon as he arrived at the top of the ridge, Tristan knew that Ivy wasn't there. Her car was gone. Maggie was standing at the edge of the driveway, clutching a cordless phone, looking distraught. 'I don't care what meeting he's in, I have to speak to him.'
What happened? Tristan wondered. Where was Ivy? He was still extremely groggy, like a person who had slept too long and too heavily. When he had fallen into this last darkness, it felt as if a force much greater than he, one more powerful than any he had ever experienced, had forced him over the brink and into the dreamless black.
'It's an emergency!' Maggie was shouting into the phone.
Tell me, Maggie, tell me what happened, Tristan thought.
'Andrew. Oh, Andrew.' Maggie closed her eyes with relief. 'It's Ivy-she's gone crazy. She's run off.'
Run off where?
'I don't know what started it. She went upstairs and all of a sudden I heard her screaming. I went up after her, up to her music room. She-she killed Ella.'
What?
'I said she killed Ella…. Yes, I'm sure of it.'
Gregory killed Ella, Tristan thought.
'I don't know,' Maggie moaned. 'I told her Gregory had taken Philip to the bridges to collect railroad spikes.'
Now Tristan's mind started clicking. Just before Tristan had fallen into the darkness, Gregory had shaved Ella's flank. Tristan had thought Gregory was just trying to rattle Ivy, but now he recognized it as a warning. Gregory was striking closer and closer.
'I thought I'd calmed her down, Andrew,' Maggie said. 'I told her how good Gregory was being to Philip. I thought I was handling her right.
Then I went to call the counselor, and she ran out. She drove out of here like she was crazy. What should I do?'
Tristan didn't wait to hear anything more. He rushed off toward the bridges, taking the route Ivy would have taken by car. He was fully awake now and felt stronger than he ever had. His mind was moving fast.
Did Gregory plan to kill Philip? Was he crazy enough to think he could get away with one murder after another?
Crazy like a fox, Tristan thought. What if this was a trap? What if it was just a way to con Ivy out to the railroad bridges?
Tristan caught up with her on the winding route that followed the river.
He rode beside her in the car, but she was so focused on where she was going that she didn't notice his golden light. A sudden bump from a pothole broke through her concentration.
Pothole! More of them. Watch out. Got to get to the bridges. Find Philip, Tristan thought, until he matched a thought with her and slipped inside.
'It's me.'
'Tristan! Where have you been?'
'The darkness,' he said quickly. 'Ivy, slow down. Listen to me. It could be a trap.'
'That's what you said about Eric,' she reminded him, and drove faster.
'Maybe if I had gotten to Eric a little earlier-' 'That's not how it was,' he interrupted her, 'and you know it. You couldn't have saved Eric.'
'I'm going to save Philip,' she said. 'Gregory's not taking anyone else away from me.'
'What are you going to save him with? A gun? A knife? What do you have with you?'
He felt the doubts growing in her mind, fresh fear icing her veins.
'Turn back. Go to the police,' he urged.
'I went to the stupid police!'
'Then try Will,' Tristan said. 'We'll go get Will.'
'Will can't be trusted,' she replied quickly. 'You said so yourself.'
'I was jealous, Ivy, and mad about the way he was keeping secrets. But we need him now, and he'd do anything for you,' Tristan argued.
He felt Ivy draw back. She was keeping something from him. 'What? What is it?'
Ivy shook her head and said nothing.
'He can help us,' Tristan persisted.
'I don't need his help. I have you, Tristan-at least I thought I did,' she challenged him.
'You know you do, but I can't stop bullets.'
'And Gregory can't risk them,' Ivy said with confidence. 'That's been his problem all along. He's got to do it better than that, sneakier than that. There've been too many deaths now. Too many people close to him have died. He can't get away with a murder that has any evidence attached.'
Her certain tone told Tristan that this was a losing battle. She had made up her mind.
'I'll be back for you,' he said.
'Tristan?' she called out.
But he raced ahead of her now and came to the bridges almost instantly.
The weather had worsened, the light drizzle becoming a cold, slicing rain that swept both sides of the river. A mist rose from the warmer water rushing beneath the bridges. Tristan saw the fog, and yet somehow he could clearly see the parallel bridges it blanketed. Gregory and Philip were not in view. Then Tristan heard voices upriver. They were moving north, in the opposite direction from where Eric had died, where there were no easy paths to walk. He felt like an eagle, targeting the two of them exactly, then dropping down beside them. Something had changed in him since the last deep darkness. His own abilities surprised him.
Gregory was standing with Philip in front of a tiny shack that was well camouflaged by bushes and vines.
He pushed open the wooden door, and Philip walked into the ramshackle building without hesitation.
'We'll be like real hunters,' Gregory was saying to Philip. 'I know where there's a pile of wood. I can pull out some dry pieces and build a fire.'
Tristan listened, trying to figure out Gregory's plan. Would he set the building on fire and trap Philip inside? No, Ivy was right: it was too obvious, and Gregory had to be very careful now. Besides, Maggie knew that Philip was out with him.
Philip set down his iron spikes. 'I'll help. The spikes will be safe here.'
Gregory shook his head. 'No, you'd better stay and guard our treasure. I'll go get the wood and be back in a few minutes.'
'Wait,' Philip said. 'I can put a magic spell on our treasure. Then no one will be able to take them and-' 'No,' Gregory cut him off.
'But I want to help.'
'I'll tell you how you can help me,' Gregory said too quickly. 'Lend me your jacket.'
The little boy frowned.
'Come on, give it to me!' Gregory demanded, unable to hide his impatience.
In response Philip's jaw got that stiff, stubborn look. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
'I need it to carry the wood in,' Gregory explained in a gentler voice.
'Then we'll build a good fire and get warm and dry.'
