When she reached the bottom of the steps, Liya paused for a moment, looking back.

"Weirdo," she muttered to herself.

In the grotto there was an alcove, and in the alcove a large statue of a reifa was curled up, its tail draped over the ledge of the alcove and resting on the ground. It was the same grey color as the stone around it, and covered in moss. Liya sat down on the ledge in the space formed by the reifa's wing and its tucked-in feet and ate a dumpling, fishing through her bag as she did. She pulled out her book, and with it came a folded-up bit of newspaper that had been tucked into the bag beside it. Idly, she unfolded it.

It was water-stained in parts now, but her eyes were still immediately drawn to a part of the image where there seemed to be a black truck--difficult to see against the dark asphalt under it--and an overturned light-colored car. At the back of the truck were what seemed to be two figures, though they were too small and the photo too grainy to make out clearly. She studied them. One of them had a smear of grey to one side that reminded her of wings. The other she could only see by the light green shirt they wore, but on closer inspection, it seemed that maybe their head and arms were there, but almost the same color as the truck.

She stared at it, chewing slowly. Involuntarily, she reflected on the goat-headed man who had just called out to her, and then Vlad's words from earlier--could stop death.

A tiny memory of a bright light, vaguely skull-shaped at one end, obscuring a face, came to her--and then was followed by the sensation of pumping magic through a heart that was definitely, definitely not beating.

She frowned, set the paper down, leaned back, and looked up at the statue. Its head was as long as she was tall. The tip of its beak had worn down over time. Moss was growing in the dark space along its nostrils and eye sockets.

"Stop it," she said out loud. "'S if you don't know what dead looks like."