“Don’t be silly,” the countess admonished, but her full assurance wasn’t there. “And why would they attack you?”
“Maybe it’s other people’s accusations of sin that cling to us, justified or not.”
“What nonsense.”
“They have walked the mists for thousands of years,” Miss Marnier said. “I know what I saw. What I felt. The dread that comes.” She shivered visibly. “I wish to be away from here.”
“The carriage will soon be fixed, I have been assured.”
Something black appeared in the greyness outside and Clemmie’s heart jumped painfully in her chest. Violent flapping and a thud into the window. Nerves ran sharply in her veins and her fingers shook with the fright.
A bird. A black bird recovered and stood on the sill outside the window. It raised its wings and shook them before folding them to him. It looked at them, as if accusing them of hurting it. Shiny black eyes like poisonous belladonna berries.
“Stupid bird,” the countess said.
Turning its head, the bird looked at them. Clemmie could only watch it with shocked horror as it started to peck on the glass as if testing if it could get to them.
Just as quickly, it took off, almost with disgust.
Clemmie’s hand was clutching her throat. “That gave me a fright.”
“My grandmother would say that was a warning,” Miss Marnier said.
“A warning of what?”
“That they are still looking for the one that’s drawn them. They're looking for their traitor.”
“When did you become so morose?” the countess accused.
“Maybe after they tried to kill me,” Miss Marnier replied. “But they didn’t, so I think they determined that I wasn’t the one they were looking for.”
“What nonsense. Are you suggesting that ghosts came for Mrs. Rowland’s husband?”
“We have yet to find another explanation.”
A chill spread down Clemmie’s spine. Something was definitely happening here. She’d seen proof of it herself. The warning in the library. She’d even heard them herself—someone marching in the corridor.
“Hush,” Miss Marnier said sharply. “I hear something.”
They all quietened and listened. Clemmie listened so intently her ears were ringing. Then there it was, a shout. The realization struck her almost like a physical blow. “Where’s it coming from?” she asked, looking at Miss Marnier, whose shocked eyes looked back at her.
This couldn’t be happening. Turning, Clemmie sought someone, someone who could confirm this was utter nonsense. Someone with an explanation for all this, but there was no one there.
Miss Marnier rushed out of the room. Where was she going? Over at one of the tables, Miss Juno sat, looking utterly white in fright. The child was looking between them, noticing something was wrong, but didn’t know what.
“Finish your chocolate, Frederick,” the countess said and walked out after Miss Marnier. Clemmie followed, not because she strictly intended to, but her legs simply took her. Miss Marnier was standing outside the main doors of the hotel, on the stoop. She stepped nervously from one foot to the other.
“Come inside this instance,” the countess said, holding the door open.
“I can hear them,” Miss Marnier said in a panicked voice, almost to the point of hysteria. “Can you not hear them?”
Mr. Weber stood by looking perplexed.
Clemmie couldn’t hear them at the moment, so she moved closer. She heard the calls, the sharpness of Latin without being able to make out any words, and the grinding noise of armor.
Her eyes darted in the ubiquitous grayness, but she saw nothing. Nothing moved, nothing disturbed. Clemmie’s eyes turned to Mr. Weber, and she saw in his eyes that he had no explanation. He wasn’t from here. Hadn’t been here long at all, an outsider, according to the men in the village tavern.
Miss Marnier screamed and shuttled backwards, terrified. Clemmie’s eyes immediately sought the directions she was looking in and a dark shadow appeared. A figure was forming in the dark along where the road was.
The countess lost her bearing and collapsed. Mr. Weber rushed to catch her. There was too much happening at once, and Clemmie’s heart was about to beat itself out of her ribcage. Fragmented, panicked thoughts rushed through her mind. They were coming.
The form solidified and Clemmie stared in horror as the figure took form. Mr. Schonberg.
A sharp exhale escaped her. It was only Mr. Schonberg. “Mr. Schonberg!” she said sharply. “You gave us the worst fright.”
Mr. Weber was still grappling with the countess, and Clemmie rushed to help with the heavy form of the unconscious woman. From how direct and staid the woman was, Clemmie wouldn’t have guessed she’d be prone to fainting.
“I am sorry. I only came to return after the clouds came in.” He came to assist them carry the countess into the chair by the fireplace, just as Miss Marnier had a day or so previously. How many days? Clemmie couldn’t recall anymore. And she’d passed out too with shock once. Time seemed to have lost meaning for her at the moment. It felt like she’d been here forever.
“I will get the smelling salts,” Miss Marnier said and rushed toward the corridor that led to the guest rooms.
“Did you hear anything?” Mr. Weber asked.
“I heard the calls and the marching,” Mr. Schonberg said. “The ghosts walk this afternoon, yes?” He said it so matter of factly, as if it was a natural occurrence. “The clouds came in and I had to make my way back.”
“It’s fortunate they didn’t find you,” Clemmie said, but didn’t quite know why she said it. Obviously, she was relieved nothing had happened to him.
“Fortunate indeed,” he said, again so matter of factly, it didn’t seem that he was in any way perturbed by this. It felt odd, but then it could be the German stoicism.
Miss Marnier returned with the small bottle of smelling salts in her hand, which Mr. Weber immediately uncorked and wafted under the countess’ nose. With a few sharp jerks to escape the noxious smell, she came to immediately, and moaned.
“There are too many people fainting in my lobby,” Mr. Weber said, looking concerned. As the countess rose, she was led away by Miss Marnier and Mr. Schonberg toward her rooms.
“Nothing like this has happened
