Lying face down on a pillow, Josie sobbed uncontrollably until the material was soaked through with her tears. There was no doubt in the girl’s mind; the house – or whatever evil was controlling it – was trying to harm her. It was also quite possible that it was her name – Josephine Lyttleton-Bradley – those specter-like figures were carving into the tomb.

Josie shuddered. Unfortunately, escaping didn’t seem to be a viable option. She’d tried several times already only to end up back inside.

Telling Donatella about the strange events also didn’t feel wise. The woman was either orchestrating everything, or she wouldn’t believe any of it. In that case, she may just decide to send Josie away to an institution on claims of superstition or worse yet, hysteria.

Nothing good came out of those types of places, even if Josie was too young to remember Mother’s brief stay at St. Marylebone. She’d gone to the asylum to treat a dissipation of nerves after the girl’s birth, but Father said the woman was never the same.

No, Josie had to first figure out what was happening before she tried to come up with a successful plan. And for that, she had to start by going down to dinner.

Looking into the dressing table’s mirror, Josie was met with quite a sight. Her cheeks were red and blotchy from crying, while her wet hair hung in unruly strands. After splashing her face with a bit of cold water, the girl grabbed a silver-handled brush and set to work.

She untangled her long, dark locks before piling most up into a neat bun on top of her head. Finding a set of iron tongs in a drawer, she carefully heated the metal end of the contraption in the fireplace. Wrapping a loose strand of hair around the shaft, she held it in place for a few seconds before letting it go.

There. A lovely ringlet of curls now framed her face.

Repeating the process with the rest of her untied hair, soon Josie looked not only presentable, but also more mature than her fourteen years. The dress Great Aunt Donatella had provided also had a lot to do with the enhancement. Twirling in the center of the room, Josie caught glimpses of her reflection in the mirror and smiled.

She looked quite pretty. Gone were the simple patterns, puffy shoulders, and high collars of her childish dresses. Now she wore a more form-fitting gown with a low-cut neckline and luxurious beading appropriate for a young lady.

Father would never let her put on something like this even within the privacy of their own home, much less to meet strangers. That was one more reason Josie liked it so much.

Dizzy from going around in circles, the girl stopped and took one more look in the mirror. Pleased with her appearance, she finished off the outfit with dainty shoes and elbow-length gloves, before walking out the door. She didn’t get far, but rather nearly collided head-on with a man standing outside her room, his hand poised to knock.

“I was just coming to see if you were ready to go downstairs.” Hyde smiled and courteously offered her his elbow. He had also changed from his professional suit into a dinner jacket and black-tie.

Too surprised to answer, Josie hooked her arm into his and let him lead her down the corridor, toward the staircase.               

“You look lovely this evening.” The former physician glanced at the girl as they walked. “I trust you’re feeling better.”

Josie blushed at the compliment, but finally found her voice. “Yes. Thank you.”

At the top of the stairs, a rush of cold air hit them, and goose bumps formed on the girl’s bare arms. Her shoes clicked as they touched the marble risers, and the sound echoed through the grand entranceway. They were almost to the bottom when Hyde pulled her to the side.

“Watch your step,” he warned as if to avoid an imagined obstacle.

Josie blinked, but saw just the empty steps. “There’s nothing there.”

Hyde cocked an eyebrow and nodded toward the troublesome area. “Are you sure about that?”

Josie looked over her shoulder. In the spot she had just avoided, a white cat was sitting and licking its paw. It reminded her of the invisible animal from last night that almost made her trip.

The girl gasped and tried to pull away. The man, however, kept a firm hold on her arm. “You want answers, don’t you?”

His question was more leading than menacing, and Josie nodded.

“Well, you won’t find them locked away in your room.” He smiled. “Come.”

Hyde steered Josie past the open parlor and toward the dining room. As they neared, the girl could hear laughing from within.

On entering, they found the table elegantly set for seven with crystal glasses and shiny silverware. Candles flickered beside the floral centerpiece, as well as in various points within the room.

Three women were already seated. Caught mid-conversation, Donatella smirked at Hyde from the head of the table. “We were beginning to wonder where you were,” she chided the man.

Instead of making excuses, Hyde walked over to their host and formally greeted her. Taking Donatella’s hand, he lightly touched it to his lips. Turning right, he addressed a fiery haired woman in a green dress in a similar manner. “Good evening, Morrigan.”

Without missing a beat, he continued on to the other newcomer and kissed her outstretched hand. “Countess.”

“It’s not polite to keep ladies waiting, Jack. I’m famished,” this woman on Donatella’s left noted in an eastern accent. Her auburn hair and milk white skin beautifully complemented her crimson gown with black embellishments, and Josie couldn’t keep from staring.

“Forgive me.” Hyde hastily bowed his head, more out of duty than willingness. “But it seems like we’re not the only ones who are late.” He pointed to the two remaining seats.

“Don’t worry about them.” Donatella dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Please, sit.”

Hyde pulled out a chair for Josie, and as the girl sat down, the woman next to her spoke up. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Josie.” Her words took on a lyrical, Irish brogue.

“Good evening, Miss Morrigan.” She politely smiled, before turning toward the other woman. “I’ve never met a Countess before.”

Everyone at the table laughed at the girl’s candor.

“It’s quite a mundane title, and it came with my late husband,” the woman explained. “I much prefer being known simply as Eliza or Miss Bathory.”

Josie couldn’t imagine how anyone could ever refer to the woman as ‘simple,’ but she nodded in acknowledgement.

 “Now that we have the introductions out of the way, let’s eat. Shall we?” Donatella pulled off her gloves before lifting the silver dome over her plate. The others followed suit, revealing large steaks, roasted potatoes, and steamed vegetables beneath.

Meanwhile, the butler Wesley appeared with a dusty, green bottle. Starting with Hyde, he poured the dark, red liquid into each adult’s glass as he made his way around the table. Stopping beside Josie at the end, he looked at her solemnly.

“Wine, Miss Josie?”

The girl bit her lip in confusion and looked at Donatella. Expecting to see a stern rebuff, she was surprised the woman nod in approval.

“Donatella, no.” Hyde interjected. “I beg you. She’s just a child.”

Josie scoffed at the perceived insult – she never felt less like a child than right now – but remained silent.

“She’s at a crossroads, Jack. She’ll have to start making her own decisions.” Donatella took a drink out of her glass.

Hyde huffed, but didn’t argue.

“Well, Miss?” Wesley was still waiting for an answer.

Josie politely shook her head. “No, thank you.” Although excited have a choice, for some reason, she trusted the physician more than her Great Aunt.

No one mentioned it any further, and they began to eat. The food – just like everything else she’d eaten in the manor – was delectable. The vegetables were sweet and flavorful, and the beef was tender and juicy. So juicy, in fact, that when Countess Eliza cut into hers, a stream of bloody liquid squirted onto her naked arm.

The woman wasn’t concerned. She laughingly raised her arm to her lips and licked off the meat juice, instead.

The group was almost done with their main course when the main entry door flew open. A few seconds later, Sam Mollick ran into the dining room. Removing his top hat, he steadied himself against the back of an empty chair and fought to catch his breath.

Donatella rose from her seat. “Are you alone?”

Sam shook his head. “No, my brother—”

“He’s here, too?” The young woman on Josie’s left dropped her silverware on her plate with a clank.

Sam didn’t have a chance to answer before two figures stopped in the doorway.

“Evening, Red.” Ezra grinned at Morrigan, his arm around a pale, thin woman who looked like she’d seen a ghost.