Flossie thought of the stone bridge.

She had expected to be greeted by the dark, foreboding castle that leaked centuries of dread and misery but was actually dropped into a scene of confusion in the interior of the castle. The girl pulled her back sharply to stand out of the way, in front of a large painting. Seconds later, several uniformed men passed by, deep in discussion in German. Viktor Brun wasn’t one of their group, though the spiritualist was.

“You changed the destination I was thinking of. How did you do that?” It seemed the further Flossie got into this situation, the less she understood about what was going on. Was there nothing this girl couldn’t do?

“We have to follow them. They were talking about what’s going on downstairs, in the Hall of the Dead,” the girl replied, ignoring Flossie’s question, her eyes not budging from the doorway. “Come on.”

Flossie was going to ask another question and tell her she’d visited here before, but it was too late. The girl had already started off. Talking would have to wait until later.

Just as she’d done with Violet, Flossie followed the officers downstairs. She and the girl trailed them at a distance until, once again, they came to stand in the shadows at the bottom of that set of steep stone steps with its iron handrail.

As before, the flame was alight in the middle of the twelve stone plinths. This time the crystal skull stood at the ready, its velvet bag tossed to one side. Behind it stood Viktor Brun, holding his twilight skull. He glared angrily at the spiritualist, who was talking to some of the other officers, unaware of his presence. It was obvious that his gift for sensing the twilight world wasn’t strong. Certainly not strong enough to appease the demanding Viktor Brun — that was for sure.

A cloud must have shifted, because moonlight began to stream through the dome’s angled windows, a beam hitting the crystal skull. Flossie drew back, shocked by the light that burst from it, filling the room.

The spiritualist shouted out in German, realizing that Viktor Brun was now present.

Everyone moved into place then —Viktor Brun lunged forward, the spiritualist knelt on the floor, his hands darting out to the skull, and another officer stood with his notebook at the ready.

Flossie expected the information to come haltingly, as it had before.

It didn’t.

With a jolt, the spiritualist began to speak, much faster than last time, the officer taking down more notes than he previously had. Flossie watched as information was leaked from the crystal skull. Every so often, she heard a word or two that scared her to her very core. Cambridge. Bath. Dover. On and on it went as her fist clenched ever tighter around her iron ring. The words came faster and faster until she doubted how much more she could listen to before she must do something to stop them.

Then, just when she thought she could bear it no longer, the clouds moved again, the beam of moonlight disappeared, and the spiritualist ceased speaking.

“Nein!” Viktor Brun cried out, but only Flossie and the girl could hear him.

The spiritualist rose from in front of the plinth, seeming drained. The other officers crowded around him and a heated discussion ensued.

“What are they talking about?” Flossie asked.

“Some of them want to stay here, and some of them want to go to the nearby rock formation. The Externsteine. Do you know what that is?”

“Yes. A friend told me that might be their plan: to use the site along with the full moon to make a stronger connection between the worlds of the living and the dead. She said it would be a good place to destroy the skull. That they’d place it on an altar high up, and it would just need one good push.”

“A very good idea,” the girl replied, then she caught something that was being said inside the room. “Wait. They have decided. They will stay here a little longer. Until the moon reaches the full height needed for the best connection between the skulls.” She gestured back up the stairs. “Come, we will wait upstairs.”

At the top of the stairs, the girl moved to her right and sat down upon the stone floor, her legs tucked under her.

Flossie sat beside her, unsure. There was so much about this girl she didn’t understand. Perhaps she sensed Flossie’s unease, because the girl began to speak.

“You want to know why I’m here, don’t you? Why I want to stop him.”

Flossie nodded. She wanted to know this and so much more besides.

“The reason is simple,” the girl told her. “I know what he and these men are capable of.”

Flossie waited for more information.

The girl gave a small shrug. “Here, I will tell you a story.” She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them tight before she began.

“There was a girl once, just like me. Her name was Hana. She lived downstairs from my grandparents, and I used to play with her every Sunday when I went to visit them. We liked to draw together or run around outside. My father and grandfather didn’t like me playing with her very much, but my grandmother would tell them to be quiet — that Hana’s parents were good people. Then, one Sunday, we went to visit my grandparents and something was wrong. My grandfather was very quiet and my grandmother was”— she struggled to find the word —“upset. She argued with my father and grandfather. She told me I couldn’t go down to see Hana.”

There was silence as the girl closed her eyes, remembering.

“While my father and grandmother argued, I slipped away. I ran downstairs, and Hana’s family’s door was open. Their possessions were everywhere, and the family was nowhere. I ran back upstairs. I could see something very bad had happened. I knew they were Polish and that they were Jewish, of course. But they had been here so long, I never thought . . .” She shook her head. “They had been sent back to Poland. They were allowed to take nothing. Nothing! Only the clothes they stood in and the very smallest amount of money.” She was unable to continue.

Flossie reached out a hand.

“What happened to Hana?” she asked.

The girl only laughed a grim laugh. “How would I know? You think someone cares? Someone checked? Two weeks after this, synagogues were burned, Jewish businesses destroyed, and men beaten. Thirty thousand people were taken away! I thought then that the Nazis would be stopped. That other countries would step in. But no. No help came. None is coming. I see that now. And what I have told you is nothing, nothing compared to what the Nazis are planning.”

Flossie waited, sensing the girl had more to say.

The girl’s eyes, which had been fixed upon the stone floor, moved to meet Flossie’s once more. “Even without his help, they will do terrible damage, but with his help, the world as we know it will end forever.”

Flossie paused to gather her thoughts. So many questions ran through her mind that she didn’t know where to start. “How have you heard all about this? By listening to him? When he’s at the cemetery?”

No answer.

“I still don’t understand, though. Why aren’t you at rest? Why is there no Turnkey? Surely your Turnkey could help you?”

The girl waved a hand now, agitated. “The Turnkey is so afraid of Brun’s strange powers that he’s gone into hiding. Don’t you see that none of that matters? All that matters now is that he must be stopped.”

There was so much that didn’t add up here. “You’ve changed,” Flossie said. “When I first saw you, you were scared of him.”

“Yes, but not anymore,” she replied. “Not now that I understand all that he is capable of. I only have to think of Hana and I know that I must destroy the skull once and for all. It is the only way.”

“How can you move objects in the living world?” Flossie’s eyes narrowed.

There was a long pause. “I just can.”

Flossie didn’t like that this girl was being just as mysterious as Hugo Howsham, but she could have hugged her anyway. Anything not to have to rely on that horrible man.

“I don’t even know your name.” Flossie held out her hand. “Mine’s Flossie.”

The girl took it in hers and shook it firmly.

“Elke,” she replied.