There was a tumble of ruins past the garage, some building not strong enough to withstand the crushing hand of nature. I picked my way around it and through a tangle of bushes and— Three men stood there. I stopped short, backing up into Gabriel, who caught me. I glanced over at him. He was scanning the landscape—the field and trees, the lake just visible behind them. He gave no sign of seeing the men, and when I looked again, I realized why. The one closest to me was dressed in an old-fashioned hunting jacket and boots, his hair slicked back, with massive sideburns. Men from a different era. Ghosts or visions. One leaned on a shovel. Another held a gun. The third was dapper, wearing gloves and a bowler hat. When I turned, the Villa and all its buildings were gone, and I saw only field and trees and holes. Construction had just begun. “I’m telling you, there’s something here,” said the man leaning on the shovel. The foreman, I guessed.
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