'You!' thunders the Major.

If I am at first uncertain to whom he directs his ire, I am in no doubt when he charges across the room and accosts Daniel, shoving him roughly against the wall, his hands on his throat. Daniel struggles against him, his eyes wide as cogwheels, but Major Smallman's grip tightens.

'You charlatan!' he spits. 'You Devil! How dare you!'

'Major, I've come to help,' Daniel pleads, but whilst I see shock in his expression, I also see that hardness he has about him. That righteous indignation that this is how it must be.

'Help? Help?' The Major's face draws close to Daniel's, his skin as purple as the blackcurrants from our harvest. 'What can you possibly do that you have not already done? You curse this place just by being here. Foul demon that you are! No more! I will see you drop lifeless at my feet, so help me Lord, I will!'

His efforts increase, slamming Daniel so hard against the wall that it dislodges several small, framed pictures hanging there and they drop to the floor, glass smashing about their feet. Daniel grasps at the Major's hands, attempting to claw them from about his neck but to no avail. His face turns an alarming colour, and I am sure that Major Smallman means what he says and will indeed squeeze the breath from Daniel's body until he is dead at his feet.

'Major Smallman!' I cry, laying my hand gently on his arm. 'Major, please, stop!'

He turns to me then, this man I have known since childhood, and he blinks as if seeking to clear fog from his vision. Deep lines furrow on his forehead.

'L-Lillian?' Confusion cuts through the haze. 'Lillian, can it be you?'

I smile and inch closer.

'Yes, Major, it is I. Lillian Elmes. Your good friend, Richard's eldest.'

His eyes widen, mouth wordlessly chewing air as he seeks to make sense of my presence here, but I can see his struggle.

'Major, please, if you will, release Mr. Carver here before you do something you regret.' I give his arm a light squeeze.

At once, all gentleness from his face is gone and it twists into a mask so bitter that it takes everything I have not to retreat from such venom.

'Release him?' the Major seethes. 'Release the very Devil that has tortured me so with his foul work? Release the beast that torments my every waking moment with his sorcery? I think not!'

Before I can utter another word of protest, the Major howls with rage and throws Daniel across the room with a strength that only absolute fury can fuel. Daniel stumbles, desperately trying to stay on his feet, but crashes backwards over a small table – mayhap the only piece of furniture so far unscathed from the Major's temper. I watch, dismayed, as he struggles to stand, only for the Major to descend up him once more. Daniel scrambles backwards towards the fireplace, climbing to his feet just in time for the Major to seize an iron poker, and bringing it down hard so hard that, while it thankfully misses its intended target, takes a sizeable chunk from the marble mantle.

He raises it again, and without a seemingly rational thought left in my body, I charge forward shouting for him to stop and thrusting myself between the Major and Daniel. Blind panic beats hard in my chest and it takes a mere moment to realise that Daniel's hand grips my waist, his hand raised as if to ward off the blow now directed at my head. I flinch, expecting the poker to cave in my skull at any second, but it does not. Instead, the Major halts his attack mid-air, his face a picture of abject shock as he looks down on me.

The poker falls from his grasp and clatters to the floor, as does the Major. I am not sure I have ever seen a man of his stature collapse as if he is nothing but bone and breath, but he does, his face crumpling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He falls to his knees, his whole body almost folds in half as he rocks back and forth, holding his fist against his mouth.

'My dear...' he sobs. 'I am so sorry... I never... I would not...'

I go to move, but Daniel holds me firm. I turn my head to look at him, noting the heavy concern in his eyes.

'It's fine,' I whisper. 'Please, I must.'

He presses his lips together, but nods and I edge towards the Major, reaching out to touch my hand gently to his arm.

'Major?' I broach.

He grasps my hand tight, his gaze imploring and full of so much pain that it hits me hard in the chest to see it.

'Oh, Lillian, you must forgive me!' he says. 'I would not hurt you for the world. I am mortified, utterly, utterly mortified. What would your father think of me? I think I must have lost my mind there. Has it finally happened? Have I gone quite mad?'

'Dear Sir, no, of course not!' I insist. 'You are... not quite yourself is all. It is quite understandable considering the circumstances. I cannot begin to imagine...'

I pause, seeing the ghost of something cross his expression, his face darkening. I must act quick before whatever torment he endures consumes him once more.

'Major, please, I know you must suffer so, but I assure you that Mr. Carver here can help.'

He stares at me, in wonder or disgust, I am not sure. 'Sweet Lily, how on Earth did you come to be here with this man? This is dark work. Terrible, evil work. You cannot surely be involved in all of this?'

I glance back at Daniel, whose face has hardened in the way it always does when he feels attacked. My heart saddens for him, a deep chasm opening where I wish I could so dearly bury all this animosity he deals with every day.

'Major,' I say firmly, but not without kindness. 'I understand this appears irregular, to say the least, but I think you know me, which means you would know I would not be here without just cause. Whatever you think you may know about Mr. Carver, rest assured it is falsehood. Nothing but mere superstition caused by a lack of understanding and appreciation for the service he does provide. He comes here to help. To ease your suffering, not create more.'

The Major glances behind me, his face sagging with distaste and suspicion. When he fixes his gaze upon me again, the torment simmers, drenched in a grief which threatens to drown him.

'You do not understand...' he says, his voice cracking. 'She walks, Lillian. My dearest Edith... she walks.'

He clutches at my arms, his weight pulling on me and I feel Daniel bristle behind, moving closer as if he seeks to drag me from the Major's grasp.

'This is not Mr. Carver's doing, Major. Whatever has befallen Mrs. Smallman in death, it is dark work indeed, but it is not the curse of the Sin-Eater which torments those that have passed in recent months.'

'And you believe this?' he says, incredulous.

'Do you think I would be here if I believed otherwise?' I reply, a touch indignant. 'I am here because I believe he has been wronged quite dreadfully by those of us who call upon his services and because I believe he can help you now, Major. He can help Mrs. Smallman rest, finally, and end your torment and hers.' I squeeze his arm. 'Let him help. Please.'

The Major hesitates, doubt, confusion and grief wreaking havoc on the poor soul.

'You do not understand,' he mumbles. 'What I have seen...'

'Is enough to stop a heart from beating,' I say. 'I know... I have seen it too.'

He gasps, clasping me tighter. 'You have seen... what? Who, Lillian, who?'

I flounder, unwilling to admit that I have seen Mr. Hawkstone, for I know not if anyone knows of his waking and the last thing I want to do, is plunge Daniel into a world of even more doubt and suspicion.

I pat the Major's hand. 'Rest assured, I too have witnessed something too awful for words. Mr. Carver helped me... he savedme.'

I glance at Daniel, who is staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth open, and I silently will him not to speak. One wrong word and this could all be undone. One wrong word and the poker is still very much within reach.

'He... he did?' Major Smallman says, blinking in disbelief.

'Yes,' I press upon him. 'He helped me, and he can surely help you too, if you would allow him to try. Will you?'

Tears gather in the Major's eyes again, thick, and laden, dropping easily down skin too pale. Too sickly-looking. He nods once.

'Where is she, Major? Where will we find Edith?'

He glances upwards, as if his eyes can bore through the heart of Wilderhope to wherever Mrs. Smallman walks. 'The second floor,' he whispers. 'Take the back staircase from the lobby. There you will find her.' His eyes meet mine. 'Please... whatever needs to be done, you will be kind to her, won't you?'

'I swear it,' I say.

'Very well.' The Major releases my hand and gestures towards the parlour room door. 'You remember where to find the lobby?' he says, as if the memory of this house has not imprinted itself on my nightmares since I was but a child.

'Of course, Major.'

In the lobby, adjoining the anteroom, I take one moment to adjust myself in the mirror, noting that my pallor is distinctly lacking colour and silently promising to spend some time walking in the Mynd where the brisk breeze can rid me of this wan hue. When Daniel's reflection appears behind my own, his face still sporting the same alarm as before, I raise a brow in question.

'You look displeased, Mr. Carver?'

'You should not have said that,' he says, his lips thin with dissatisfaction. His curls look more dishevelled than usual, and I have the sudden urge to comb them, feeling my face warm at the very thought of it.

Mayhap I do not need the cool winds that sweep through the Mynd after all.

'I'm not sure what you mean?' I manage to utter.

What you said about being kind to Mrs. Smallman.'

Any attempts to muster a smile, no matter how small, are dwarfed by the touch of fear that cages my heart so suddenly that for a moment, I am not sure how I can speak.

'What a strange thing to say,' I comment, pretending to appear quite unbothered and fixing a comb more firmly into my hair. 'But of course, we shall be kind to her. Mrs. Smallman was always such a gentle and generous character...'

'Whatever walks upstairs, you can be rest assured, it will bear no semblance to the lady you once knew, Lillian. Surely, you must know this?' He edges closer until he is almost at my shoulder, lowering his voice. 'You saw Mr. Hawkstone. Do you think he was the man you knew in life?'

'A poor example,' I say, turning to face him. He is so close that I can feel the warmth of him.

And I can feel his undisguised anger which bristles over his skin.

'In life, Mr. Hawkstone was a repulsive man with the ability to make your flesh seek to crawl from your bones if he so much as tried to lay a hand upon you. In death, he has lost none of those qualities, I can assure you.'

He glowers at me. 'This is no jest, Lillian.'

'I am not jesting. He really was, and remains still, the most repulsive man.'

With an exasperated choking sound, he turns away, clearly unable to look at me any further, I hope not because he finds me as repulsive as I find Mr. Hawkstone. His hand grips at the satchel on his hip, his fingers scratching at the fissures in the cracked leather.

'You are angry with me,' I say, feeling a little forlorn. I'm not sure I have ever infuriated anyone as much as I appear to infuriate him.

Daniel's shoulders sag. 'I am.... Aye, maybe...' He whirls around, staring wildly into my face – close again. Closer still, I am sure. 'What on Earth were you thinking, Lillian? Why would you put yourself in danger like that? What if the Major had struck you? You could be dead now.'

It is all I can do not to lose my footing. There is anger there – I see it – but it is not the anger I thought he held. It is full of heat and concern, and I am at once a little stunned to feel it so keenly, emanating from him in tumultuous waves that threaten to envelop me whole.

I clear my throat with a small cough. 'Well, then it is fortunate that I am not. And I am not sure I was thinking at all in that moment other than I had no wish to see him bash out your brains onto the rug.' I smile, letting my gaze sweep casually about the lobby. 'It was a gift from my parents and quite expensive from what Mama told me.'

Daniel's anger freezes, then thaws a little, a touch of amusement creeping about his eyes. 'Is that so?' he muses. 'Well, we couldn't have that now, could we?'

'Quite.' I nod. 'I am glad we understand each other.'

He shakes his head, bemused. 'Miss Elmes, you mistake me, I am not sure I will ever quite understand you.' A small, exhausted sigh escapes his lips. 'However, I meant what I said. What I now must do is probably not what you would consider to be kind. In fact, I think the Major would not only bludgeon me with the poker, but he might also consider running me through with that bayonet blade you say he is most skilled at using. It will be bloody work and, as much as I hate to risk your insurmountable fury once more, it really is no place for a woman.'

I purse my lips. 'You do not wish to seek my fury, and yet you persist in assuming I am not capable. I am fully aware that you think me to be like all the other fine women of which you possess a wealth of experience...'

'I'm sorry for that,' he says quickly. 'I am sorry if I ever misjudged you. If I ever compared you to...'

'To other women such as myself?'

He smiles. 'I was wrong. It appears you are... quite unique.'

I cannot speak. How can one man render me so utterly incapable and yet here I am claiming to be everything but? I so dearly wish I could say something, but I am sure that the sound I would emit would be closer to shrill mouse than unique human.

'Miss Elmes,' he says, choosing his words with some delicacy, I can tell. 'Despite your uniqueness, what await us is no fairy tale. And what I must do... it will be difficult to witness. I will not blame you for not wanting to be party to this horror.'

I lift my chin. 'You think I am strong, but mayhap not quite strong enough?'

'What I am saying, is that you have nothing to prove to me,' he says with a quiet but firm resolve. 'Not after you put yourself within a hair's breadth of a poker to avoid getting blood stains on that expensive gift from your parents. I will not think of you as weak if you do not wish to continue. There are men I know that would not have the stomach for what is to come. You fail nothing and no one by not going any farther.'

He seeks to excuse me without acknowledging any weakness on my part and my heart thuds a little in my chest to hear it. I am not sure why it is important that Daniel does not think me weak, but I realise then just how much that means to me.

'I understand, but I still want to come.' I look him in the eye, hoping that I can hold my gaze steady. 'And you need not tell me I mustn't. I will do this. I have come this far, have I not?'

Daniel smirks and inclines his head. 'Aye, you have that.'

'Good. Then I shall continue, and we shall say no more about it.'

'You are a stubborn one, that's for certain,' he says, with the subtlest hint of a smile as he adjusts the strap of the satchel so that it does not drag so on his coat.

'My friend Lizzie always says that to be a woman in this world, one needs a generous helping of stubbornness to keep men dancing light on their toes.'

I turn back to face the mirror, making one final inspection. I am quite sure that Mrs. Smallman cares not for my appearance but if I must look at Daniel any longer, I think I would allow him to talk me out of just about anything.

Daniel chuckles. 'As wise as your friend Lizzie sounds, I think I would prefer to know what you think.'

I cannot help myself. I look up, surprised, and he is there, those eyes reflected in the mirror. They appear darker in the glass. Dark and unfathomable.

Lord, I am lost.

I swallow. 'Sadly, I am not nearly as interesting nor charming as Lizzie. I am afraid you would find my thoughts rather dull.'

'Would I now?' he says, his voice thick, his gaze locked with my own.

I think then of all the things they say about Mr. Daniel Carver.

The rumours and myth. The stories of sorcery and witchcraft. The tales of his supposed powers.

I hope to the Heavens that none of it is true, for if he truly is the Devil and he can read thoughts, then he would know that my thoughts now, instead of being dull, would most likely earn me a place right beside him in Hell.

'The day draws on, Mr. Carver, shall we go?' I say.

Without another word, Daniel walks towards the oak staircase spiralling upwards, hesitating at the bottom step. He turns and looks at me again, his brow furrowing.

'You are quite sure?'

'Mr. Carver, if you ask that question again, I will have no choice but to fetch the poker and bash out your brains myself,' I say, glowering at him.

The Devil grins. 'Do you know, Miss Elmes, I think I would rather face an army of Edith Smallmans and Mr. Hawkstones, than I would wish to face you with a poker in your hand.'

With that, he begins to climb the stairs, and having firmly asserted my own authority as an apparent hunter of dead people, I have no choice but to follow Daniel up into the nightmare of Wilderhope Manor.