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The muffled sound of anguished gasps and sobs reached their ears.
“It's up there,” Finn whispered.
Amelia nodded, her face pale in the gloom.
They walked up the narrow staircase together, one step at a time. With each step, the strange, sobbing and moaning sound grew in intensity until they both stopped just one step from the door.
Finn approached the door cautiously, signaling Amelia to keep her distance. He then tried the handle, but he noticed a small keyhole at its center. It was locked.
A scream suddenly erupted from beyond the door.
"I'm going to kick it in," he whispered. "Get ready for anything."
Amelia nodded, stepping back, her fists clenched by her side in seeming preparation for anything coming through the doorway.
Just as Finn was gathering his breath and strength to kick open the door, a voice echoed from behind them, startling both agents.
"What do you think you are doing?" It was an elderly voice with a dignified but icy tone that seemed to still the air.
Both agents turned around. A tall, imposing elderly woman stood at the foot of the narrow staircase. Her face was lined with age, her eyes sharp as tacks. For a moment, it was hard for Finn to read her, so much was her expression solemn and un-moving. She carried with her a small battery powered lantern, and the beam cast eerie shadows, which moved around the walls of the narrow staircase like spiders legs.
"Lady Ferguson, I presume?" Finn spoke, trying to hide his relief at the interruption.
The lady nodded. “What business do you have entering my house during a storm? Make it quick before I call the authorities.”
"We heard a distressing noise and wanted to make sure no one was hurt," Amelia said.
Lady Ferguson slowly ascended the remaining stairs. "Ah, that would be my son. He has severe emotional issues, you see, exacerbated by storms and other loud noises. He's best left alone until the weather clears."
"We're agents from the Home Office, Lady Ferguson. We're here to investigate the murders on the island," Amelia interjected, showing her identification. “I believe it was you who called us in?”
Lady Ferguson's eyes flickered, unreadable. "I was informed that the Home Office would send their best. I hope you're up to the task.” She looked past Amelia to Finn and glared at him. “You're the yank, aren't you? Good. Someone from the new world will be more resilient to the effects of Huldra.”
“Effects?” Finn asked.
“Forgive me,” Lady Ferguson said, breaking into a sad smile for a moment. “It is best if you keep your mind clear of the old stories. Sometimes I forget that the outside world has long since moved on from the superstitions of us island folk.”
A loud clatter of thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. “I saw your bags at the door. I would have someone to bring them up for you, but I am afraid I am quite alone this evening.”
“That's okay,” Finn said, gently. “I can do that.”
The sobbing began again from the door behind them.
“We are disturbing my son by talking,” Lady Ferguson said. “Come, I'll show you to your rooms."
They had no choice but to follow her. As they walked, the air seemed to grow colder, and Finn felt compelled to look around every corner as though he were about to be confronted by some hideous specter. They moved through corridors filled with antique furniture covered in sheets, as if the house itself was in mourning. It seemed to Finn that large sections of Huldra House had been left untouched for some time. A place that was once grand had now withered from the inside out.
Lady Ferguson stopped in front of two rooms across from each other. "These will be your accommodations," she said, handing them each a set of old-fashioned iron keys. "I'll have one of my servants take you to the crime scenes in the morning when they are here."
“Excuse me, Lady Ferguson,” Finn a said. “But isn't it normal for servants to live in the servant quarters? I mean, surely a place as huge as Huldra House requires a full staff to keep going?”
The lady looked lost in thought for a moment. “Yes, that is normal. But Huldra House is unlike anywhere you will have stayed before. It is made from the rock of this island. And the earth has a habit of tricking you. Not many have the stomach for it, but my son and I do quite well enough. The servants live elsewhere on the island or come from the mainland, and that suits my purposes.”
“About the two deaths, are you certain they are connected?” inquired Finn.
“I am tired. There will be time for questions tomorrow.”
“We had hoped to get out there before night and look things over,” Finn explained.
