He found two more metal wards wedged in hiding places at the entrance to the greenhouse. Julia had tried her best to hide them from everyone, including him, but the game was not so fair when the seeker knew exactly what they should look for and where. But the side door had no apotropaic. He checked, and checked again.

The side door would suit Christophor’s purposes. He made sure he wasn’t watched from any of the windows, and that the track up to the house was as clear for as far as he could see. Then he set to work.

With the tip of his knife he worked at the door’s brass handle, supporting it from below – if he broke the damn thing off he’d have rethink the entire enterprise. Before long he had punctured a hole in the top of the handle, but then the issue became one of making it large enough without becoming too large. He removed the knife often and was gentle in his working. When he was somewhat satisfied with his tiny act of vandalism he withdrew his handkerchief with the utmost of care.

The shard of glass caught the moonlight wickedly. He stared at it, steeling himself against doubt – against what he imagined might happen to an innocent person should he be wrong, or should they simply be unfortunate enough to use the door first. It would be a minor injury at worst, he told himself. Besides, he believed the vision he saw that night in the Eder’s dining hall; Mrs Eder did not bleed from the right hand. In the vision that we shared, in which she crushed a glass between her hands, only one hand bled – and did so profusely. He saw that as something worth proving before he made an arrest.

Once more taking up the tweezers, he readied the glass. He had judged his hole well. The shard wedged there solidly, point upwards, hand-crafted for just this purpose. Confident the shard was secure, he retreated to the forest and counted out fifteen paces before turning around. There he found a suitable observation post, though it still lacked the VM he’d carved for the children.

The Eders did not keep him waiting long. The family returned from church in a lacquered and lamped carriage. Each stepped out in fine garb. Mr and Mrs Eder, Louisa, Julia, and lastly Victor. Mrs Eder was carrying a bouquet. As they made their way along the path and up the steps to the front door, Mrs Eder appeared to say something to her husband. He was unmoved, but she left them on the porch.

Christophor tensed. The woman was making her way around to the side of the house. The children were watching too. Victor went so far as to start towards his mother before his father called him back. Thus caught, he and Julia raced inside past a bewildered Mr Eder.

Mrs Eder carried her bouquet to where the forest met their garden, where she tossed it to the ground. She waited there for longer than Christophor anticipated. She had the significant stillness of someone paying their respects. But as far as he knew, there was no funeral that day – that would be the kind of gossip the innkeeper was unable to keep to herself. Finally, she walked back towards the house.