Finn paused for a moment, taking in the vastness. He noticed how the sunlight played tricks on the wooden floor, creating patterns as it danced across the Persian rugs. The scent of old books and polished wood hit him; it was a familiar comfort, a reminder of the sanctuaries he used to seek out at college when life became overwhelming.

  The walls were lined with ancient wooden shelves that reached high to the ceiling. Thousands of dusty books stood shoulder to shoulder, their spines telling tales of time and tradition. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, casting their warm glow upon reading tables scattered throughout.

  Amelia broke the silence first. "This place is incredible! I wonder what's hidden in all of these old books."

  Finn smirked slightly. "A detective's dream, right? I would have loved something like this as a kid. The most I had was a small shelf with a few books from the library or church group. It's like it's grown overnight," Finn said, half-jokingly. "Feels much bigger now than when I found it."

  Amelia took a moment to walk alongside one of the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing against the book spines. She picked out a weathered-looking tome, opening it to reveal its brittle pages. "This is incredible, Finn. Think of the history here. The stories these books could tell."

  Finn nodded, remembering why they were here. "Yeah, and hopefully, they can tell us a story about our killer or at least about this island's folklore." He motioned towards a section filled with older, bound books. "I figured we might start with the local history or legends."

  Amelia looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. Split up?"

  He smirked, "Divide and conquer?"

  She gave a small smile, "Exactly."

  As Finn delved into the books, he couldn't help but feel the unspoken history of the library around him. There was an immense sense of history, of countless hours spent in thought and reflection. Every so often, he would glance up to see Amelia engrossed in another volume, her red hair catching the setting sun's rays, making it glow. It was moments like this that he found himself getting lost in thought, wondering about the complexities of their relationship.

  Shaking himself from his reverie, Finn focused on the task at hand. He knew they were on borrowed time, and every clue they could glean from this room could be pivotal. Somewhere within these walls, the past might hold the key to their present.

  As the dimming October sun cast long shadows across the library's interior, Finn couldn't help but be drawn to the ancient texts that lay on the wooden tables and cluttered the ornate shelves. Picking up an old cookbook that was titled “Old Recipes of the Islands”, he browsed through it, his brow furrowing in mock disgust.

  "Hey, Winters," he began with a teasing glint in his eye, "looks like I've found a recipe for haggis from the 1700s. Ever had the pleasure?"

  Amelia looked up, her face animated with genuine enthusiasm. "I love haggis! My aunt used to cook it for me all the time when I spent time in Scotland."

  Finn continued reading aloud, his face contorting in mock horror. "Cooked in a sheep's stomach? You're all nuts."

  Amelia, never one to back down from a challenge, retorted with a wicked smile, "The food of Scotland is hardy, made for a hardy people. Not everyone can stomach it. Especially if you're used to the easy life in Sunny Florida."

  Feigning offense, Finn shot back, "Are you challenging me to a haggis eating competition? Because I will destroy you if that's the case. I'll eat so much haggis, they'll have to make me king of Scotland. Maybe Britain, who knows, it could go further than that, we'll just have to see."

  Amelia's laugh echoed throughout the library, a joyful sound amid the stillness of the room. "You? A king? I'm not sure there'd be a crown big enough for that head of yours.”

  As the two continued their playful banter, Finn's eye landed on another book, this one appearing much more relevant to their current situation. "Traditions and Tales from Huldra Island," he read aloud, curiosity evident in his voice. "Now this... this could be interesting."

  The library was filled with the soft rustling of pages turning and the hushed voices of Amelia and Finn. The dimming sunlight painted the room in hues of gold and amber. As Finn thumbed through the book, a particular chapter heading made him pause.

  "The Wraith of Huldra House," he murmured, eyes narrowing.

  Amelia, having overheard, tilted her head in thought. "Isn't it supposed to be the Wraith of Huldra Island? That's the story we've been told so far."

  Finn, engrossed in the text, shook his head. "Not according to this old legend," he began, voice taking on the cadence of a storyteller. "It says here that the hidden folk of the island owed a debt to the founders of Huldra House and their descendants. An ancestor of the Ferguson line apparently stumbled upon an entrance to the hidden folk's realm but vowed to keep it a secret, building the house itself over that entrance. To repay this act of trust, the hidden folk pledged that if Huldra House was ever desecrated, they would unleash their most fearsome wraith to exact revenge upon the transgressors, to protect their human allies and their secret."

  He glanced up from the pages, eyes meeting Amelia's. "Seems like a different spin on the familiar tale, doesn't it?"

  Amelia bit her lower lip in contemplation. "What if you're onto something? What if our killer believes in this variation of the legend? Maybe they see themselves as this wraith, punishing those who've wronged Huldra House in some way."

  With the ambient lighting in the library turning into dusky shades, Finn's attention was still completely absorbed by the book. "Listen to this," he began, his voice a mix of intrigue and excitement, "As a part of the accord struck between the hidden folk and the Ferguson lineage, certain individuals from the island were designated 'watchers'. To facilitate this, five homes were erected on the Siren Ridge. These watchers had the responsibility to surveil Huldra House, especially during the periods when its lord or lady was not present."

  Amelia, her curiosity piqued, rose from her chair and made her way to the massive windows of the library. Drawing back the heavy drapes, her eyes swept across the landscape, stopping at a distinct feature. "Finn," she exclaimed, her voice carrying a note of astonishment, "I can see a line of houses in the distance, right on that hillside. They look a little worn down by time, but they're there."

  Finn joined her, taking in the sight. They stood side by side, both sets of eyes focused on the distant houses. "Those must be the watcher's residences," he said, the revelation spinning in his mind.

  He looked at Amelia, his gaze intense. "I know how outlandish it might sound," he began, his voice measured, "but is it possible that someone, or some family living there, took this legend seriously? That they considered it their solemn duty to safeguard the house and took it upon themselves to avenge any perceived harm done to it?"

  Amelia rubbed her temples, as if trying to process the new theory. "At this point," she mused, "we don't really have any concrete leads explaining why both our victims were targeted. This legend, as far-fetched as it sounds, could be our only tangible lead. A shot in the dark is still a shot."

  Finn nodded in agreement. "Then it's settled. We should pay a visit to those houses before night comes, it looks like there's a storm coming again. We'll need to be quick. Let's see if this legend has any bearing on our case."

  Amelia gave him a resolute nod, her determination evident. With their path decided, the two detectives made their way out of the library, drawn to Siren Ridge and the mysteries it might hold.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Finn walked with purpose as the skies continued their gray dominance outside. The clouds above were beginning to move outside Huldra House, and Finn could feel in his bones that another gale was about to blow.

  The expansive corridors of the old mansion led Finn and Amelia to the enormous kitchen. The vast array of copper pots hanging from the ceiling, a testament to the house's opulence, reflected the little ambient light seeping in from the windows. As they entered, they found the place devoid of human presence, the soft flicker of the evening candlelight the only movement.

  "Seems Frederick's taken his leave before night," Finn remarked, noticing the absence of the butler. A handwritten note was left on the central island, confirming he'd gone home for the evening. Finn considered their options, "Should we give Kirsty a ring? She could probably drive us over to those watchers houses on the ridge."

  Amelia raised a quizzical eyebrow. "After her omission about McGregor? You sure about that?"

  Finn sighed, conceding the point. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it could complicate things by asking her for assistance. Even though he still believed that she made a bad decision while stuck between a rock and a hard place. "You're right. I'm still... unsettled about her keeping that from us. I suppose we should keep her out of things for now."

  Silence descended for a few moments as Finn weighed their options. Finn finally broke the quiet again, "It's a bit of a hike to those houses, probably over a mile, and daylight's slipping away fast, I don't mind doing it alone. You could stay here, and if anything goes wrong, I'll..."

  “No,” Amelia said gravely. “If there was another murder tonight without us doing anything, we wouldn't forgive ourselves. I am quite capable of hiking in this weather and terrain, Finn. It is going to be dark soon, though...”

  Amelia, always the resourceful one, started rummaging through some cupboards. Her search was rewarded when she found a utility cupboard that contained, among other things, a couple of rugged flashlights. She handed one to Finn, her eyes gleaming with determination. "These should help if it gets dark before we reach the ridge."

  Finn chuckled, activating his flashlight and placing it under his chin. "Are you ready for a night filled with tiny hidden folk and encounters of the ghostly kind, Winters? Mwuhahaha," he intoned in the exaggerated manner of a vintage horror movie villain.

  Amelia laughed, a sound that was both amused and sarcastic. "Your face is scary enough without the added effects, Finn."

  He smirked, "Touché, Winters. Touché."

  With their banter momentarily settled and their flashlights at the ready, the two detectives set out, leaving behind the confines of Huldra House and venturing into the gray evening. As soon as they stepped out of the confines of the building, Finn felt a strong gust of wind and wondered how long they would have until the weather became dangerous again.

  He'd never been anywhere so changeable, so quickly, and that unpredictability made him feel more off-kilter than he already was.

  Under the waning light of the day, the moorland appeared even more haunting than before. Tall grasses rustled, whispering as they swayed, and the island's eerie silhouette played tricks on the eyes. The two detectives found themselves on a narrower path that veered off the main road leading to Huldra House. Above, the clouds growled menacingly.

  Finn pointed ahead, "That pathway should lead us straight to the ridge. Looks like it winds its way up. I just hope we make it there and back before this storm comes."

  They continued along the path, their flashlights cutting through the gathering shadows. The enveloping twilight and the soft rustling of grass caused Finn to glance over his shoulder more than once, he half expected to see the hooded figure of the wraith floating through the grass towards him.

  As they walked, Amelia's voice broke the stillness, "Do you think we'll ever encounter any of those strange lights you spoke about? I'd love to see them up close."

  Finn looked around, realization dawning on him. "You know, you're right. I think this is actually the moor where I saw one of them. Right around here from Huldra House."

  Amelia pondered this for a moment. "Since you mentioned it and enjoyed mocking me for it, I'm wondering... Have you ever seen anything... unexplainable, yourself, Winters?"

  She paused, seeming to search deep within herself for an answer as they continued along the trail. "There was once. After my fiancé passed, I was at home one night. I just felt... Terrible, like I couldn't go on living like that. I missed him. And then, in the midst of my tears, there was this knock." She inhaled sharply for a moment. "A photo frame in the other room had fallen. It was our picture. And when I picked it up, just for a split second, and I know this sounds crazy, I turned I thought I saw him in his armchair, just watching me. Then I blinked, and it was gone. He was gone... Again."

  Finn looked at her with gentle eyes, "Let's say what you saw was real?"

  “I don't think it was.”

  “But let's say it was, for argument's sake,” Finn continued. “Did that make you feel any better?”

  A reflective Amelia replied, "In a way, yes. But it was also a bit unsettling, almost frightening, though I know he'd never want to scare me. I always attributed what I saw to my grief, stress. You know, playing tricks on the mind."

  The path beneath their feet seemed to lengthen with their conversation. Finn's voice took on a lower tone, "You know, I've often wondered. What if it's not the stress that causes us to see these things? What if it's the stress that allows us to see? Like, it breaks down some barrier, allowing us to glimpse things usually out of our sight."

  Amelia looked at him thoughtfully. "That's a different way to see it. But then, isn't that what we do every day? Trying to see the unseen, hear the unheard."

  Finn smiled, "Exactly. But maybe you don't go looking for it. Maybe, when you least expect it, it'll come to you."

  The path continued to wind its way upwards as Finn cast the beam of his flashlight towards a rustling bush.

  “I think you're safe,” Amelia said. “Unless you have a fear of rabbits?”

  One scurried out from the cover of the leaves and then darted back in.

  “Never underestimate a vicious rodent,” Finn said.

  Night had now well and truly fallen, wrapping Huldra Island in a thick cloak of darkness. The path before them was nearly invisible but for the small beams of light emanating from their flashlights. Amelia and Finn trudged upwards, their footsteps the only sound breaking the night’s stillness.

  The landscape transformed gradually, and the eerie vastness of the moors gave way to a rising hill. As they ascended, five ominous shapes began to take form. The houses that stood there were formidable, reminiscent of a time long past.

  As they approached, Finn's flashlight beam played upon the walls of the nearest house. The inky black rock gleamed dully back at him. "Look at this," he murmured, running his fingers over the smooth surface, "It's the same as Huldra House. This black stone... it's everywhere."

  Amelia, scanning the houses, nodded in agreement. "The style is similar, too. It's as if they were all carved from the same rock at the same time. If the legends are to be believed, maybe these houses and the mansion came as a package because of some misplaced superstition."

  The duo walked closer, inspecting each house. To Finn's surprise, four out of the five houses appeared uninhabited. Chains and locks adorned their entrances, while cobwebs and accumulated dust gave testament to their disuse.

  "It's odd," Finn murmured, "Why would only one be occupied?"

  Amelia replied, "It could be any number of reasons – perhaps the others moved, or maybe..." she hesitated, "maybe they no longer had anyone to pass their homes onto, to keep the tradition of watching Huldra House alive."

  However, in the oppressive darkness, the fifth house stood apart. A faint light glimmered from one of its windows, like a beacon in the overwhelming blackness. Without saying a word, they both made their way toward it, stepping warily on an overgrown stone path.

  Amelia motioned for Finn to follow her lead and raised a hand, knocking softly. They waited as the winds gather up around them, the only other sounds their synchronized breathing and the distant crashing of waves against unseen shores.

  Moments later, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly woman. Time had etched lines deep into her face, but her eyes were sharp and alert. Wrapped in a shawl, she peered out at them, her gaze first settling on Amelia and then drifting to Finn.

  Before any words could be exchanged, Finn tried his most charming smile. It didn't work.

  “Who are you?” the old lady asked with frustration clear on her face.

  Amelia, in a reassuring tone, introduced herself, flashing her badge. "Inspector Amelia Winters," she said, nodding toward Finn, "and this is consulting detective Finn Wright. Can I ask your name?"

  “Agnes Logan,” she said, still grasping onto the inside of the door, as if ready to shut it at any moment, should the conversation become unpalatable.

  Agnes squinted at the ID before her gaze wandered back up to study Amelia's face. The old woman's face reflected a myriad of emotions - from confusion, recognition, to a growing unease, and then to apparent fear.

  Amelia began, "We're on the island because–"

  "To investigate the deaths? Of Lord Carmichael and the fisherman?" Agnes interjected, a tremor in her voice.

  Finn nodded, "Yes, exactly. We've come to understand the significance of these houses. We recently uncovered a local legend about how these houses were built as homes for five people who could watch and look over Huldra House. We want to know more about the role of 'The Watchers', as it could help with a line of inquiry. We were wondering if you knew of anyone who may have taken those stories too seriously, or anyone who might bear ill will towards those associated with Huldra House."

  Before he could say more, Agnes's face crumpled, tears pooling in her eyes, reflecting the dim light from her home. Finn had the feeling that the woman had been waiting for someone to call, and finally, when they did, she was ready to release all of her built-up worry.

  Amelia stepped forward, her usual empathetic approach comforting the elderly. Finn, too, felt moved, his previous suspicions now turning into concern. The old lady very much reminded him of his grandma.

 

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