'Yes, I trust you,' I say.

Do I though? Can I?

'Forgive me,' he says.

I know not whether he speaks to me or to Mrs. Smallman, who bucks and thrashes with all the vigour of someone very much alive, although the coldness of her skin and her deathly mask tells me otherwise.

With a skill that I know will leave me with more unsettling questions to ask, Daniel raises the dagger and brings it down in one swift motion, thrusting it into the centre of Edith's forehead and piercing her skull with ease.

The effect is instant.

Whatever dark light had shone in Edith's eyes; it vanishes completely. Her body stills. Her jaw slackens, that awful swollen tongue filling the opening between her grey lips. I cannot believe that she is so still. To go from that terrible, tortured being that fought so violently against us, to this lifeless thing. I am not sure what I expected, but this abrupt end certainly wasn't it.

'Lillian? Lillian, say something!'

I blink and look up, his words breaking through the haze of my disbelief.

Daniel stares at me, a note of concern, and I think wariness, in his expression. He thinks this has gone too far, that I have reached my limit. I see it in his eyes.

'Is it... is it done?' I whisper, as if the very sound of my voice might conjure Edith back to life, or to whatever horrendous existence it was she was living.

Leaning back on his heels, Daniel's body slumps, exhaustion seeping from him in waves.

'Whatever she had become is extinguished, but it is not done,' he says. 'We must inter her body back into the ground from whence she came. Then, aye, it will be done at last.'

'Oh,' I say, a touch dismayed. He is right, of course. Mrs. Smallman cannot just be left here, although I cannot imagine that we can do as he says without the assistance of the Wilderhope staff. 'And how are we meant to manage that? Shall we call for Mr. Turner to help?'

'And have him see what I did?'

He looks down at the dagger in his hand. The blade is slick, not with blood, for I know the embalming would have rid her of that, but of something else that I do not wish to think about. I glance away quickly, as if my mind could ever be rid of such an awful image now.

'He need not see it,' I say, looking about the room. 'We can wrap her in the eiderdown there.' I nod to the nursemaid's bed behind him. 'If we can get some rope, we can tie the ends. Then between us, I am sure we can manage Mrs. Smallman down the staircase.'

Daniel's eyes widen. 'Well... it seems as if you have thought of everything.'

'I'm a woman,' I say with a smile. 'We often do.'

'Aye, I think you might be right on that. And Lily?'

There is softness there, and warmth, I think. I like the way he says my name, this familiar beat it has on his tongue, the shape of his mouth as it forms the word.

'Yes?' I answer.

'You can let go now.'

I am still holding onto Edith's wrists, as limp and lifeless as they are. I release them, but not with repulsion. This creature she became might not look like the lady I remember, but she still deserves kindness and compassion.

Daniel climbs off her, wiping the blade down with a piece of soft leather from inside his satchel, before sheathing it again and placing it back inside. I am glad for it. I do not like to see it in his hand because then I must think about how skilled he was at using it.

As he gathers himself together, I glance about the room once more. Spying the doll that Edith was holding, discarded in her flight to attack me, I reach down and pick it up. It is a rather sad-looking thing, worn with age.

'Curious...' I say.

'Aye, what's that?' Daniel says, pulling the eiderdown from the bed.

'This room...' I eye the crib, the book closet, the toys. 'Major Smallman and Edith were never blessed with children. I vaguely recall my mother talking of it once. Something about how they had always known that it was not going to be a possibility and yet they had loved each other so much, they married anyway.'

'Do you think it a novel idea that two people should marry simply because they love one another?'

I look sharply at him, unnerved by how strongly he holds my gaze. I let my eyes sweep over his face for as long as I can bear.

'No, of course not,' I manage to utter, breaking contact and looking back to the doll. I find her eyes do not heat my skin as his do. In fact, her glass stare is quite creepy. 'But to have children, a family, it is what we all wish for.'

'Is it now?' Daniel remarks, his brow raised. 'I think sometimes we wish for too much. It is not what we wish for that is important, but what we deserve, and some people do not deserve to have children.'

'I hope you are not suggesting that the Major and his wife did not deserve to have children?' I say, somewhat indignantly. 'I understand your impression of the Major might be prejudiced by his behaviour downstairs, but I can assure you that they truly were the most deserving of couples.'

Daniel shrugs. 'Major Smallman is gripped by grief. I judge him not for his actions. And I care not whether he and his wife were deserving of a family. I am paid to provide a service and I do it. Once it is done, I go back to my life and my employer goes back to theirs. While I have coin in my pocket, what do I care for the lives of such people?'

Ah, there he is. The boy with the fierce face. How foolish of me to think that boy and I could call a truce for long. Usually I would rise to this, but today, with this doll in my hand that Edith had clutched to her like it was her own ghost-child and her body cold and lifeless on the nursery floor, I find I have neither the spirit nor the will for it.

Placing the doll back into the crib, I hold my tongue on the matter.

'Shall we proceed, Mr. Carver?' I say, turning to face him. 'I never did care for this house, and I find I care for it even less now. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can depart.'

'As you wish... Miss Elmes.'

Thankfully, Mr. Turner does help carry Mrs. Smallman to the family cemetery in the grounds behind Wilderhope, however as soon as he sets eyes upon the grave, complete with handprints where Edith must have clawed at the disturbed earth, he backs away.

'I'm proper sorry, Miss,' he says, his face ravaged by fear. 'I shan't be a part of this... this is dark work. I can't do it!'

I watch dismayed as he throws the shovels to the floor and stumbles away, his legs clearly going faster than his feet can carry him.

'Oh dear,' I say. 'I had thought this might happen. The poor fellow was looking decidedly pale on the way here.'

Daniel sniffs. 'Well, I suppose it is not every day that you are asked to carry the body of your mistress back to the grave out of which she has recently crawled.'

'No, it is a strange task indeed,' I say, eyeing the claw marks myself and ignoring the shiver that passes up my spine.

Placing his satchel on the ground, Daniel removes his jacket, rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, shovelling some of the earth out of the way where it has fallen into the hole. Once it is done, he begins to tug Mrs. Smallman's body towards the edge.

'Here, I can help,' I say, grasping the rope at the other end.

'Lillian, I must insist, this is really no job for...' He stops when he sees my warning glare.

I sigh. 'Shall we agree that a woman's realm is far beyond your previous understanding?'

Daniel grins, which looks almost like a pained grimace as he pulls Mrs. Smallman towards him with some effort. 'I think we can agree it might always be beyond my understanding.'

With Edith safely ensconced back in her coffin, albeit still wrapped in the eiderdown, Daniel climbs out and sets about shovelling mounds of earth back into the grave. I watch him for a moment, feeling utterly redundant, before deciding I am quite capable of being anything but and reach for the other shovel. As I move to the opposite side of the grave, he looks up at me as if I am the most ridiculous creature he has ever set eyes upon and no doubt I must look it, standing here in my coat and fine dress.

'Well,' I say, breaking his stunned silence as I begin to work. 'If I leave it all to you, we may be here for some time yet and I fear the skies might threaten rain at any second.'

Daniel glances up at the skies dubiously and back at me, amusement in his eyes. 'As you wish. I would hate for your clothes to get wet as well as muddy.'

Looking down, I see he is right. My skirts are already smeared with dirt. When my eyes meet his, I see the challenge there immediately. He thinks me much like Mrs. Smallman's doll, I am sure. A pretty thing to be admired and kept in lace. I cannot think of anything worse than to be something that will one day just age and be cast aside to gather dust.

'I am not frightened of a little dirt, Mr. Carver,' I say, huffing as I thrust the shovel into the earth once more.

Daniel rakes his fingers through his curls and wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. 'I can see that, Miss Elmes.'

We are almost done – as are my aching muscles – when my prediction about the sky's threat becomes true and the first spots of rain land on our heads. Soon, it is too heavy to ignore, and we take shelter under the trees close by, although I fear it is too late for my dress to ever recover.

I stare at Edith's freshly dug grave, overwhelmed with a sudden wave of sadness for what became of her. I do not realise I am trembling until Daniel lays his coat about my shoulders.

'Don't be absurd,' I protest. 'I have my coat.'

'Which is wet through,' he says, stepping back. He is soaked through to the skin himself, his hair plastered to his forehead, his tunic stuck to his torso. 'You're shivering.'

'I do not shiver because I am cold.' I glance back at the grave. 'I shiver because... oh, because this whole thing is just wrong, is it not? Truly wrong. I know you said you cared not for what Edith deserved in life, but she certainly did not deserve this in death. Even Mr. Hawkstone, for all his failings, did not deserve to end up a walking corpse.'

'No. They did not deserve this... I'm sorry.'

I turn sharply at his words. 'What do you mean? This is not your doing. You said so yourself.'

Daniel's face is pained then, a suffering that I do not expect to see. Alarm strikes a chord in my chest.

'Daniel?'

'It is not my doing, but...' He swallows. 'I do think it is my fault.'

'I do not understand, whatever can you mean?'

He moves to the edge of the tree cover, his haunted gaze sweeping over Wilderhope. 'Someone is doing this, Lillian. I think someone means to ruin me.'

'How do you know this?' I step close to him, eager to know the truth. 'And who would do such a thing?'

'As for whom, I have no idea. I was not aware I had any enemies. Who do I know but Stella and yourself?' He shakes his head, anger spotting his cheeks. 'But I have seen his handiwork for myself, first on Mr. Hawkstone and now on Mrs. Smallman too.'

If I was not cold before, I am cold now. 'Handiwork? What handiwork?'

Daniel eyes me as if he is unsure whether to speak it.

'If you think I cannot bear whatever it is you might say, you are wrong,' I say, lifting my chin. 'I have been chased through Rectory Wood by a dead man, attacked in a nursery of all places by a dead woman and have just helped bury her body. There is not much you can say now that will deter me.'

'Aye? This might. It should.' His weighty gaze finds the grave, as mine did. 'Promise me, you will not speak of this to anyone?'

'Heavens, Daniel, I will not speak of it. Of course, I will not. Now, please will you tell me?'

He edges closer and glances around nervously, as if he thinks the very trees will listen in to our conversation.

'Mr. Hawkstone had a piece of flesh missing. When I dealt with him, I found a piece taken from his stomach. It was a square of flesh, about two inches squared, cut very expertly by a sharp knife. At the time, I was not sure, but I vaguely recalled my uncle talking of such a thing many years ago when I was but a boy, so I set about investigating what it meant. Lillian, there was a piece of flesh also missing from Mrs. Smallman's right calf, about three inches up from her ankle. I saw it when she flew at you in the nursery.'

I can scarce breathe. This is far worse than being attacked by dead people. 'And did you discover what that might mean?'

'Yes. I searched through all my uncle's old journals and his books. There is no doubt: this is the work of a necromancer.'

I admit, I am a bit stumped at his words. 'Necromancer? I am not familiar with such a thing? What is that?'

'Well, it is right and proper that you are not familiar,' he says, his nose crinkling with distaste. 'Necromancy is black magic. The vilest of all witchcraft. There are all sorts of reasons that a necromancer wishes to bring back the dead, and none of them are good, trust me. In this case, I think he seeks to use them as a weapon. He wants them to terrorise the townsfolk and create panic and fear.'

'But, why? If this is the work of a necromancer as you say, what possible motive does he have for stirring up such unrest, particularly with those people who have lost their loved ones?'

Daniel's eyes are tortured. 'Me. I am the motive.'

'You?' I say, incredulous. 'But you said yourself that you have no enemies. You have crossed no one.'

'Think about it, Lilian,' he says, his hand reaching for my arm as he moves closer still. 'I was responsible for both Mr. Hawkstone and Mrs. Smallman. Both have since returned from the grave. Whoever this is seeks to not only discredit me, but to blame me for what has occurred. You know what folk think of me already. Have you not spent your life afeared of the Sin-Eater because of it? Gripped by superstition and dark stories about what I am capable of? Nay, trust me, whoever is behind this wants people to think it is my doing.'

He is right. Of course, he is right. Once word of this gets out, all eyes will look to Daniel. Who else could be responsible for such evil?

'Goodness,' I say. 'I see your point entirely. And yet who would do such a thing?'

'I know not.' He bites down on his lip. 'But I must be on my guard, for whoever is guilty of this, is a local person, that's for certain.'

'Local?' I gasp. 'Why would you think that?'

'Because I have scarce step foot outside of this place my whole life. I was born here, and I was raised here and now I work here. There is no one from outside that would know me.'

'Then it is someone you know. Most likely someone we both know.' The thought of that chills me to the marrow. The idea that someone I know could be behind such a terrible deed is terrifying.

Daniel squeezes my arm gently. 'This is why you cannot speak of it to anyone. I mean it, Lillian. You could be putting yourself in incredible danger. The fact you are even here with me now could be perilous.'

He is right again. I hate to admit such a thing, but I see it for what it is now. If word of necromancy gets out and anyone knows that I have assisted Daniel, then not only could my very character be called into question, but they could believe I am in cahoots with him. Angry tears heat my eyes.

'But this is so wrong,' I say, wringing my hands. 'It is unfair. You have done nothing. All you have ever done is provide a service of which the townsfolk have requested of you. How could they possibly think you seek to terrorise them?'

'They can and they will, and you know that to be the truth.'

His hand drops from my arm, and he takes a step back. I do not like the sudden distance, nor the way he is looking at me. It makes me feel colder than the thought of dead people rising from their graves or necromancers stealing flesh from corpses.

'Lillian, you must stay away from now on.'

His voice is firm, and I feel desolate to hear it.

I frown. 'What? Of course, I won't. Do you honestly think I would leave you to deal with this on your own? Not after everything I have been a witness to. You are utterly innocent in all of this. If anyone dares accuse you, I shall petition every person I know to fight your case.'

Daniel's face hardens. 'You will not. Did you hear nothing I just said? Is it not bad enough that you risk your reputation by accompanying me here today? Did you not see the look on the Major's face when he realised you were with me? What on Earth do you think he will say to your parents? And that is the very least of it. Can you honestly say you wish to be considered in the way they consider me? This is not just about your reputation, but your soul, Lillian. And trust me when I say, they will blacken it if they believe you are part of this and once blackened, there is no hope for you. And it will not just be you that suffers, but your family too.'

My family. I had not thought once of the impact of my actions on them. Can he be right?

Yes. Of course, he is.

In my reckless and wilful insistence that I help Daniel, I have risked not only my own soul, but theirs too.

'Now, will you do as I say?'

I nod, but it takes everything I have to agree with his wishes. This whole thing is dreadful. Wrong. The injustice of it all burns so very deep.

'But what will you do?' I say. 'How can you even attempt to fight back if you do not even know who seeks to harm you in such a way?'

'Who said anything about fighting back?'

I stare at him, aghast at his words. 'But you must fight back. You cannot just let this happen. You cannot let this evil be done to you.'

Daniel's brow darkens. 'I never said I would. But if I leave, then I maybe have a chance to escape it.'

The shock hits me hard. 'You would leave? But you said yourself that you have barely ever stepped foot outside the Dale. Where would you go?'

He shrugs, but I see the struggle there. 'Anywhere. As far as I can get from here. London, maybe. No one knows me there. I could try to find work. Honest work.'

London. Of all places. I would never see him again.

'Why should you have to leave?' I say, my throat tightening at the very thought of it. 'It is unfair. You do not deserve this.'

'Don't I? The fact is you do not know what I deserve and what I do not.'

He looks so wretched then, that I cannot bear it. I reach for him, my fingertips finding the firm line of his jaw, the roughness of his face. He jolts as if my touch as burned him and grabs my wrist.

'I do not need your pity, Miss Elmes,' he says.

'It is not pity,' I insist.

Anger flashes in his eyes and in the cruel turn of his mouth. 'Then if it is not pity, it is folly. Either way, you are gravely mistaken. Go back to your family and your life. While you still can.'

With that, he walks out from under the tree cover towards the house, his fists clenched by his sides, head bowed. The rain refuses to relent, in fact I think it hardens its assault now it has a willing assailant to beat down upon.

'Mr. Carver... Daniel... please wait!' I plead, gathering my skirts, and attempting to run after him without slipping in the mud and wet grass. 'At least let me take you in the trap?'

'I will walk,' he calls back, not stopping. 'Now go and seek cover inside the house before you catch your death.'

'But your coat...' I say, shrugging it from my shoulders and holding it out to him, as he finally halts.

He attempts to take it, but I do not release my grip, forcing him to look at me, something I can tell he is trying to avoid.

'Answer me something before you go,' I say.

We are drenched now, the two of us, beaten mercilessly by the valley rain. I doubt his coat will do him much good at all. It seems nothing will.

'Why does the necromancer need to take a piece of the deceased person's flesh?'

The question bites him, I can tell. 'It is how he brings them back,' he says.

I am cold now. I do not think I have ever been so cold and wet, nor so utterly lost.

'I do not understand. How does stealing the flesh of a corpse bring one back from the grave?'

He stares at me, his face indifferent. 'He does not steal it, Miss Elmes. He eats it.'

'I-I beg your pardon?' I stutter, my muscles weakening. I let go of the coat. He takes it and puts it on, casually adjusting the strap of his satchel, acting as if he has not just told me the most terrible thing I think I have ever heard.

'He eats it,' he repeats, his eyes flashing darkly. I cannot be certain, but I think he is enjoying my discomfort. 'Consumption is often the way with the darker side of witchcraft. A Sin-Eater consumes souls to grant peace to the deceased. A Necromancer consumes flesh to enslave the dead and bring them suffering. It is called Death Magic, Miss Elmes and it is only for the most dangerous, the most unforgiving and the cruellest among all of those who work within the realm of the dark arts.'

Without another word, Daniel turns and walks away, but I do not. I cannot move.

Death Magic.

The very sound of it terrifies me to the core, but there is one thing I do know and that is while Daniel might be content to let this creature drive him from his home, I am not. This abominable man – whoever he might be – must be unmasked and stopped, before he wreaks havoc and suffering on the whole Dale.

'I will seek you out, you beast,' I whisper. 'I swear it.'

As I begin to walk back to Wilderhope Manor, up above, the blackened clouds engulf the sky like mottled bruises on flesh and the rain seems to grow ever more powerful, lashing everything in sight, as if it hopes to drown us all.