Following the events of the high-stakes and propulsive Uncanny Times , Rosemary and Aaron Harker, along with their supernatural hound Botherton, have been given a new assignment to investigate…but the Harkers believe it’s a set-up, and there’s something far more ancient and deadly instead. Rosemary and Aaron Harker have been effectively, unofficially sidelined. There is no way to be certain, but they suspect their superiors know that their report on Brunson was less than complete, that they omitted certain truths. Are they being punished or tested? Neither Aaron nor Rosemary know for certain. It may be simply that they are being given a breather or that no significant hunts have been called in their region. But neither of them believes that. So, when they are sent to a town just outside of Boston with orders to investigate suspicious activity carefully, the Harkers suspect that it is a test. Particularly since the hunt involves a member of the benefactors, wealthy individuals who donate money to the Huntsmen in exchange for certain special privileges and protections. If they screw this up…at best, they’ll be out of favor, reduced to a life of minor hunts and “clean up” for other Huntsmen. At worst, they will be removed from the ranks, their stipend gone—and Botheration, their Hound, taken from them. They can’t afford to screw this up. But what seems like a simple enough hunt—find the uncanny that attacked a man in his office and sent him into a sleep-like state—soon becomes far more complicated as more seemingly unrelated attacks occur. The Harkers must race to find what is shadowing them, before the uncanny strikes again, and sleep turns into murder—and the Huntsmen decide that they have been compromised beyond repair. But their quarry may not be the only uncanny in town. Botheration and Aaron both sense something else, something shadowing them. Something old, dangerous…and fey. “The follow-up to Uncanny Times continues to build Gilman’s delightful world. Fans of gaslamp fantasy, Sherlock Holmes, and wry siblings should take a look.” ― -- Library Review Laura Anne Gilman is the author of the Locus bestsellers Silver on the Road and The Cold Eye , the popular Cosa Nostradamus books (the Retrievers and Paranormal Scene Investigations urban fantasy series), and the Nebula Award–nominated The Vineart War trilogy. Her first story collection is Dragon Virus , and she continues to write and sell short fiction in a variety of genres. Follow her at @LAGilman or LauraAnneGilman.net. Chapter One One WINTER WAS SLOWLY releasing its grip on New Haven. Across the campus, trees budded and bloomed, the midmorning sunlight just warm enough to convince the young men to open their coats and abandon hats, but chill enough that they did not linger, heads down, hands tucked into pockets, brightly colored scarves fluttering. Then the bells tolled eleventh hour, and the graveled paths cleared as though by magic, leaving the campus Green still once again. At the western edge of the Green, a three-story house filled most of a corner lot. Surrounded by a low stone wall, a small plaque at the entrance announcing that the house was property of the university. It, too, was quiet. The white-trim porch boasted a comfortable-looking quartet of chairs and a low mahogany table, as though waiting for warmer afternoons for chess, or some other decorous pursuit. Past the front door, however, that quiet gave way to chaos. Chairs had been overturned, rugs shoved aside, and the ornately papered walls had been ripped in places. In the middle of one room, Aaron Harker pivoted, arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance without losing sight of his prey, a gray-green figure the size of a cat and the shape of a frog, if a frog were to rise up on two feet and scurry like a ferret. “Stop them,” a familiar, breathless voice called. “Stop them!” His sister Rosemary, across the room, was holding an iron poker in one hand and a broom in the other, looking like a demented version of Lady Liberty guarding not a harbor but the exit out of the room. Aaron pivoted again and swore. “What the blazes do you think I’m trying to do?” The imp he’d been struggling to catch slid between his legs, leaving a trail of slime across his boots, and Aaron, lifting one foot out of the mess, pivoted a third time, getting dizzy from his attempts to follow the creature. They’d managed to chivvy the creatures from the upstairs rooms, but evicting them from the building entire had been more of a challenge. There were at least eight that they’d caught sight of, but they hadn’t exactly been able to line them up and count them. “Slippery little bastards,” he muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. He’d discarded his jacket and cap across a chair in the parlor, and sweat was making his shirt stick to the small of his back uncomfortably, as though it were deep summer rather than only mid-April. “Above you!” Rosemary warned,