The man began by telling them he was Austrian, and that he and his family had been living in England for quite a number of years. His son, however, had returned to Austria after his schooling and had then studied at a university in Berlin.

“He published a lot of papers — became quite well known,” he said proudly. Then his expression darkened. “And then, well, he was approached. He was offered men and money to go and search for things. Or one thing.”

“Wait.” Flossie held up her keyed hand. “Are you saying he was approached by the Nazis?”

The man hesitated. “Yes. They had expeditions out searching for all kinds of things. The Ark of the Covenant, Atlantis.” His eyes scanned his surroundings worriedly. “It wasn’t just this, though. There were other things the Ahnenerbe were interested in.”

“What sort of other things?”

He paused. “My son had friends. Anthropologists. Sociologists. They went to places like Tibet, taking measurements, studying tribes. The Nazis — they’re trying to create a new cultural history. To prove they’re a superior race. They’re willing to make up history to do it, too. Not only that, but the head of this division — he has other interests as well.”

“Like?” Flossie pushed.

“Spiritualism. Trying to contact the dead.”

Flossie stilled. So the Nazis were trying to make contact with the twilight world. The world Viktor Brun now inhabited. And they were searching for ancient artifacts.

The crystal skull was an ancient artifact.

“What exactly was your son sent out to search for?” Flossie focused in on the man once more, wondering if it had been the crystal skull.

“The Holy Grail,” he said. “In the Pyrenees.”

Flossie could barely believe her ears. Did the Nazis honestly think they could send some archaeologist out to pick up the Holy Grail? The cup that Jesus drank from at the Last Supper and that people had been desperate to find for centuries?

The man’s expression became concerned. “He was beginning to worry that his time was running out. The people he was working for liked results. Fast results. They’d found many other priceless objects and —”

“What sort of objects?” Flossie stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “All I know is they wanted that Grail. They had a whole room ready for it.”

“A room?” Flossie said. “Where?”

“At their headquarters. At Wewelsburg Castle.”

Having told them everything he knew, the man returned to rest, leaving the sisters, Ada, and Flossie standing next to the gates.

“You’re going to go there, aren’t you?” Ada said, speaking first.

“I think I have to. If it’s the headquarters of the Ahnenerbe.”

“You need to take that Violet lass with you,” Alice said over the air-raid siren, which had just begun to wail.

“She seems to know the ins and outs of the living and their dealings with the spirit world,” Matilda added loudly.

“She knew about the skull,” Alice yelled. “And she speaks German. She can help you, I’m sure.”

The sisters began to move toward the gates.

“They’re right,” Ada said loudly as she and Flossie followed the women. “You need to talk to Violet.”

Alice and Matilda unlocked the gates, letting the girls out. After saying their good-byes and waiting until the sisters had disappeared from view, Flossie took Ada aside.

“I wasn’t able to tell you this before, but I discovered something.” She leaned in close to Ada so she wouldn’t have to yell. “It’s the officer’s name. I know who he is.”

“Oh?”

“His name’s Viktor Brun,” Flossie said. “He’s . . . he’s the man who sank my father’s ship.”

Ada drew back. “Oh, Flossie, no! Wait. What are you saying? You told me he knew your name. Do you think there’s more to it? That he’s here because of you?”

“No, I think it’s just a coincidence, but what worries me is that it’ll only make things worse. He and my father — let’s just say they didn’t exactly get along in life.”

The drone of planes began in the distance.

“Here we go again,” Flossie said.

The arched gates to Kensal Green Cemetery rose tall in front of Flossie. Towering columns loomed, as if they would like nothing better than to swallow her whole into the darkness beyond. This was a serious cemetery. A cemetery of royal burials, pomp and ceremony, and much importance. It wanted you to know that. Flossie almost felt that she should curtsy.

She walked toward the huge iron gates, which encased the smaller gates for the dead. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Hugo Howsham. Not at all.

Before she could change her mind, she rapped on the iron gates, thinking about what Violet had said to her before leaving the meeting of the seven Turnkeys. She had said that if Flossie needed any help, she need only ask. While Flossie knew Violet would be more than willing to help in any way possible, it was her brother that Flossie wondered about.

“Miss Birdwhistle.” Hugo Howsham appeared before her just as the all clear sounded. Flossie almost laughed at the timing of it. It was as if even the living, busy with their war, dare not talk over him.

“Oh, hello, Flossie.” Violet approached the gates. “Have you learned more about your officer?”

“Yes,” Flossie said. “I have a name now — Viktor Brun.” She considered revealing Viktor Brun’s link to her family and then decided against it. Hugo Howsham would only twist things to make it seem as if all of this trouble were her fault somehow. “There’s more, too,” she continued. “It seems that this Ahnenerbe group is involved in trying to contact the twilight world. I’ve found out where their headquarters is in Germany, and I’d like to go there. I was hoping Violet might consider coming with me.”

Hugo Howsham would say no; she knew it.

Violet turned to her brother — tall, dark, and imposing in his finely cut coat and top hat. He twisted his walking stick in the gravel, as if about to stalk away. Then he stood his ground.

“She is taking advantage of you, Violet. Haven’t you learned anything in death?”

“Hugo!” Violet said. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” he said between clenched teeth. He strode the short distance to his sister, towering over her. “She is asking you to do her job for her. I knew no good could come of a child Turnkey at Highgate, and here we are.”

If Flossie could have blushed, she would have. She was glad she hadn’t told him of Viktor Brun’s link to her father.

Violet wouldn’t be put off. “I must go, Hugo,” she said. “You know this officer was talking about Kensal Green. Not to mention that the fate of our entire country could be at stake.”

Flossie grinned. Oh, Violet was clever: she knew exactly how to persuade her brother. Hugo Howsham wasn’t only a Turnkey who would do anything to protect his cemetery. He was also a very Victorian man with a very Victorian outlook. The fate of his beloved country was of the utmost importance to him.

“I’m practically fluent in German and used to being in an awakened state. I’ll be fine if it’s only a short journey. Surely I can be of help. It would be ridiculous of me not to go.”

Hugo Howsham stood silent and still for some time, then sighed, clearly worn down by his sister. “All right. As you wish.”

Flossie started. Something about his sudden change of heart didn’t seem right. She opened her mouth to question his decision, then closed it again. She’d gotten what she wanted. It was probably best to leave it at that, despite her reservations.

Hugo Howsham glared at Flossie, his expression hard. “You must both be careful. Gather what information you can, but under no circumstances must you let this man see you. Do you understand my terms?”

“Yes,” both Flossie and Violet replied.

Hugo Howsham deftly unlocked the smaller gates for the dead. Violet exited and, under the Turnkey’s watchful eye, Flossie took Violet’s hand in her own and thought of Wewelsburg Castle, hoping that just the name of the place would be good enough to travel by. It had worked for traveling to the Invalids’ Cemetery.

When Flossie’s eyes flashed open, she and Violet seemed to be standing at the end of a stone bridge that led to the immense gray castle, dark and foreboding above them with huge circular towers at each end. Crows called out from the trees overhead, which reached out black, spidery fingers into the sky. Close by stood a guard in a long gray-green wool coat. He was protected from the elements by a guardhouse that matched the castle — round with an arched doorway. His breath was visible in the icily cold night. A German shepherd stood obediently by his side.

Remembering their promise to remain out of sight, Flossie pulled Violet close to the wall of the bridge that curved around to the left so that they were half-hidden by the guardhouse. As they took in their surroundings, it began to snow. Large flakes fell from the sky. Softly, quietly, beautifully. With the castle in the background, it should have been a magical scene, and yet it wasn’t. Something about this place felt wrong. Very wrong. There was an undercurrent of bad feeling here that couldn’t be ignored.

Violet, who was sensitive to these sorts of feelings, had a pained expression on her face. “This is a bad place. Terrible things have happened here.” She closed her eyes, as if remembering, and when she opened them again, they seemed brighter than ever. “They tortured women here. Women they called witches. So many.” She frowned, focusing on a point over the bridge. “And now, in the present, over there.” She pointed. “There are huts. They’re using people as slaves to rebuild the castle. All kinds of people — Jewish, Jehovah’s Witnesses, gypsies, and others. I can hear their voices.” She covered her ears. “They wear stripes. They carry stones on their shoulders. There’s not enough to eat. Sometimes the children in the village give them bread, but it’s not enough. Never enough.” Violet’s head moved sharply to her right. Then she turned slowly in a full circle, her eyes closed again.

“What is it?” Flossie asked.

“We’re near the Externsteine. I can feel it.”

“The Externsteine? What’s that?”

“It’s a rock formation,” Violet explained. “Five sandstone pillars. It’s an ancient sacred site. Very powerful. I’ve told you before that I could feel things ever since I was a small child.”

Flossie remembered this. “That you could feel the energy of the twilight world, but you just couldn’t contact it? That no one could?”

“Yes. The Externsteine is like that. Its energy is palpable.”

A glossy black Mercedes convertible, the top closed, drew up to the end of the bridge and stopped at the guardhouse. The back window of the car opened, and inside was a man dressed in a gray-green uniform, the distinctive insignia of the SS on his arm.

“Come on,” Flossie said. “Let’s go in and see if we can find out more.”