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drive away impending hypothermia was the longest, hottest shower she’d ever taken, followed by a large mug of even hotter cocoa.
    The shower was about as close to heaven as she could imagine. Steam billowed in clouds around her, and eventually the chattering of her teeth stopped and her muscles unclenched enough to let her stand upright. Once the heat had restored her mental faculties sufficiently, Kelley allowed herself to mull over the evening’s bizarre turn of events.
    She’d come to her senses lying facedown on the lakeside path, retching out murky water, with the horse nuzzling at her shoulder. By the time she’d regained her bearings and struggled to her feet, the creature had vanished into the darkness, and Kelley was left with nothing but a few strands of long, reddish horsehair clutched in her fist. Sodden and shivering, she had gathered up shoes and coat and all the stuff that had spilled from her bag and headed for home.
    That was what she remembered.
    Only…
    There was confusion in Kelley’s mind. She could recall, from the moments before she’d blacked out, a jumble of images. Fleeting impressions of lights and sound—strange, beautiful music…
    Or, to use the technical term, oxygen deprivation .
    Kelley leaned her head against the tiled wall. At least shehadn’t actually drowned. What was that old cliché? Right: “Fortune favors the foolish.” Stupid horse. She hoped it had found its way home. With the water starting to run lukewarm, Kelley reluctantly turned off the taps and slid aside the shower curtain.
    And screamed.
    The “stupid horse” was standing right in front of her, filling almost every available inch of her tiny bathroom with its big, lanky frame. The horse’s back feet—in fact its entire back half—was still outside, as it stood half in her bathroom, half out on the landing of the fire escape. Kelley could see steam rising up from the horse, dissipating into the cold night air. It whickered softly and pushed at her shoulder with its velvet muzzle.
    Kelley scrambled for something to cover herself and tried not to panic.
    When she’d hoped that the creature had found its way home, Kelley hadn’t meant her home! She wrapped herself in a towel and edged around the horse, out of the little room. As soon as she could, she shut the door with a bang and leaned against it, her heart pounding.
    This is impossible , she thought. This is not happening .
    She was imagining things. She had brain freeze. Über brain freeze—not just the kind you got from drinking a Slurpee too fast. No. The kind that you got from jumping into a lake in late October. The kind that made you hallucinate wildly.
    The horse whinnied softly.
    “Stop that!” Kelley clapped her hands over her ears. “You’re not real! I can’t hear you because you’re not real!”
    There was another little burble of equine noise from behind the door, followed by shuffling and thumping sounds. Then nothing. Kelley sank down to the floor and sat with her back to the door. This really wasn’t happening. Because if it was happening, Kelley was in for a world of trouble.
    Her roommate was going to kill her. Or kick her out.
    Oh, God—if Tyff kicked her out, she might have to move back home! It wasn’t as if her aunt Emma had wanted Kelley to move to New York in the first place, and it was only the fact that Kelley’d found such a great place to stay that made her agree. Tyff Meyers was a model—more than a little high-strung—and Kelley could recall the wording of her craigslist ad with absolute clarity:
    Available to Rent: outrageously expensive, ridiculously tiny room with no view, in Upper East Side walk-up, w/shared kitchen/bath/living. Must be single female. Nonsmoker, nondrinker, nonannoying. No late nights, loud friends, parties, or general weirdness. You must be neat, you must be civilized, and you must not touch my stuff—food and bath products, especially. Interview required. Must answer skill-testing question.