♦ ♦ ♦
The sun was overhead, trying unsuccessfully to burn through the brown clouds that hung over the town. Dawn had passed with no sign of the hunters returning. Nor did Solomon return with news of the Mar-trollid.
When Celia climbed out of bed it was to hear the sounds of quiet laughter from the other room. Friedrich was telling a nonsense story to the children, something about gnomes and a giant with a thorn in his foot. She paused in the doorway to her room— Lyssa’s room her inner voice corrected— listening for a moment, smiling at the different voices the older man was using in his story.
It was the sort of scene that could be found in any household, anywhere. It was nice, and normal. And Celia wanted it to be that for this whole place again.
There must be a way into that basement.
“Well, good morning, sleepyhead.” Greta smiled at her from her chair, where she sat listening to Friedrich’s story as well.
The children turned to her, then back to the older man.
Friedrich winked at her and continued.
It was a kind gesture, and it almost broke her heart. With a sad smile, she moved to the small kitchen area and made tea. She sat and listened to the rest of the tale, even laughing at some of the more ridiculous parts.
When it was over, she said, “Christoph, why don’t you take the rest and see if you can go get the rope I left in the street last night?” The young boy turned a baleful eye to her. “I know,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave it, but there were things I needed to do. And listen, if one of the hunters is still there, don’t touch it!”
It felt strange to be giving such directions to children, but these kids had been on their own in Dunfield for a long time, and they knew how to take care of themselves. Telling them to go play wouldn’t have meant anything to them. At least now, they felt they were doing something worthwhile.
“I’ll go with you,” Friedrich said, but Celia cut him off.
“No. Please, stay. The kids can do it. I need to talk to you and Greta.”
She hated the way Greta’s face fell and the sour look that crossed Friedrich’s. But she had no right to hold what she knew from them.
“Come on, guys,” Christoph said and led his troupe to the door. After the last one exited, he turned back. “We’ll be back in two hours. Is that enough time?”
Celia nodded, grateful to this world-wise boy. Christoph nodded back and then followed his friends.
Without another word, Friedrich and Greta took each other’s hands and waited for her. Now that it was here, she didn’t know how to begin.
She started with the red hunter, telling them that he was the one she hit in the alley the night that she couldn’t save Lyssa. She described last night’s fight and then the aftermath, including her pulling the mask from it, and what she discovered underneath.
“Are you saying our Lyssa turned into…what? A creature made of mud and worms?” Friedrich’s voice was quiet, and Celia could hear the anger underneath it.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe. But it could be something else.”
“What?” Unlike her husband, Greta’s voice said she still held out hope.
“Maybe the hunters are like models of the people who were taken. Maybe they’re still alive somewhere, being used to keep the hunters going somehow….”
“You have no reason to think that,” Friedrich said.
“No. I don’t. Other than hope.”
Silence fell over the room and Celia felt like hugging the cup of tea in her hands to absorb the warmth.
“There is something else, though,” she finally said.
Greta sniffled and looked up at her.
“I found something in the manor.”
She told them about the stairs, the doorway, and the mask, including what happened when she placed it to her face.
“I’m sure the answer is behind that door. But I can’t put that thing on again…it was…”
“Of course, you can’t,” Friedrich growled. “For Heaven’s sake, girl, do you think we want you taken too? Things are bad enough.”
Again, Celia felt that almost overwhelming love for these two people who had lost so much, yet still seemed to have so much more to give. Even to the woman who was unable to save their daughter.
Like Solomon had been unable to save her father.
“What now?” Greta asked.
“I think we need to wait. One more day. Give Solomon time to get back and then we’ll make a plan.”
“Is he really that smart?” Friedrich asked. “You think he’ll come back and know what to do?”
“No.” And Celia smiled as she realized the truth. “Solomon is far from stupid, that’s true. But it’s not so much that he’s that smart. It’s more that things happen around him…and he makes others better. When he’s around, they want to be more like him.”
Friedrich nodded. “Then we wait, and hopefully, find out for real and truly what happened to our daughter.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Dusk fell, and with it, the hunters returned. People had not gotten so used to their absence that they stayed outside as the light began to fade, so when the whistles filled the streets they were already inside or hidden.
Celia watched through cracks between the boards. Hunters strode through the streets again, but they seemed different somehow. They didn’t appear to be mindlessly wandering, watching for targets of opportunity. Instead, they walked with a purpose, alone rather than in pairs or groups.
Next to her, Friedrich watched as well.
“What are they doing?” he whispered.
From down
