"Wait, what are you doing?"Gina froze. She was just about to lift her foot over the fallen iron fencing. "Huh?" Use the gate, silly." But..."The cemet...ry shimmered. The fence was whole again, the headstones orderly and neat. She blinked and the vision vanished. Warily, she looked down. The fence still lay at her feet in rusting pieces, yet she felt that it would be wrong to just step over it.She approached the gate from its proper path. The padlock and chain still held it closed. She pushed the. There were darker and more puzzling stories told, as well. They concerned persons who danced at the stones and almost never returned. Despite what Mistress Heathcoate believed and had related to Sandrine and Amélie, on those rare occasions when someone did return it was almost always after years rather than days or months. None spoke of where they might have been during their absence or what they might have been engaged in. Those who did not return at all were given up for dead.Not all who were. More

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