Resigned to what Coral thought of as house arrest while her leg healed, she waged war against the dust in the manor. She swept, dusted, mopped, rinsed and wiped down any surface she could reach. Pearl had objected at this activity at first, but when it was obvious that Coral was getting around perfectly fine, her sister relented to Coral’s studious approach to cleaning up the manor.

The grand staircase was a little tricky to clean, though she was thankful that the only dust that settled upon the banister was from opening the velvet drapes. What was trickier, was discovering that the snapdragons had decided to make a nest in the back of one of the chairs. A large hole had been ripped open; the padding shredded to form a comfortable layer for several of the little creatures. What was more, was that she had found the buttons from pillows had been torn off, though she couldn’t find them anywhere.

She really hoped they hadn’t eaten them.

She spent a half a day attempting to fix the chair, restuffing, mending the wooden frame and carefully sewing the seams together with tiny stitches to minimise the obvious repair. Many of the snapdragons had tried to rip the seam back open to get to their little nest, which Coral promptly deposited them into the crate for some time out. Except, this method hadn’t worked at all. While she had been diligently working away at the back of the chair, the other snapdragons that hadn’t been bothering her, had decided to take the opportunity to rip into the front of the chair, and make a whole new nest.

On seeing the stuffing spilled out across the floor, the very large tear in the seats cushion and three content snapdragons curled up in little balls at its centre, Coral gave the whole thing up as a complete waste of time and let the naughty things keep the chair. She could always find another from somewhere in the house, whether it matched or not was an entirely different matter.

This incidence did prompt Coral to cease her restless cleaning and open the book on pseudo dragons. She read the whole thing, only to become increasingly dissatisfied in the lack of information on how to care for the creatures. At least now she knew that pseudo dragons were more likely to make themselves a little den rather than their larger counterparts.

The book gave a brief description of the types of snapdragons, their behaviours, and occasionally providing illustrations. There was a full page with a detailed, coloured drawing that helped Coral identify which was the trailing variety of the pseudo dragons. The book described them as serpentine, the illustration showing a mature version of the snake-like snapdragon that was currently perched atop the fireplace poker. Coral stared at the picture, then compared it to the real-life version, noting how the adult had large, elongated scales along its back, then smoothed out down by its haunches, and then fanned out again at the tip of its tail. It almost looked like it would grow long fur at the tip.

The Night and Day pseudo dragons weren’t two different kinds. They earned their name by their appearance depending on the time of the day. It eventually would grow completely translucent, and would appear lighter during the day, and darker at night, matching the glow of light that shone on it.

Candy snapdragons shone a beautiful iridescent colour that was everchanging. Dwarf snapdragons were adorably squat and thick, Coral had seen two of those. Pearl had been pleased to learn that they particularly liked gardens and were good at digging out unwanted weeds, if they were taught what to look for. Frosted Flames was clearly an ice snapdragon, and it had been the singularly pearlescent one that had taken to finding the cooler nooks of the crate whenever Coral had checked in on them. She hadn’t seen this one shoot little sparks of fire either.

Coral took note that generally, snapdragons were carnivorous, there were a few exceptions to the rule. The Butterfly snapdragons, the one Pearl had named Blossom, favoured nectar from flowers. This proved true enough when Pearl presented a moonflower to Blossom. The creature stuffed its head into the centre, licking up the pollen from the flower’s centre. Pearl took considerable pleasure in watching this and had declared that she had chosen a most excellent name.

There was no mention of black snapdragons in the book. Coral spent some time going through the descriptions of each kind. There were many more listed, though none that gave the description of an entirely black snapdragon, which had taken up following her around as she moved about. She thought there was a possibility that it could have been the intermediate kind, where it grew to be notably larger than other snapdragons. Though, as most of the snapdragons hardly grew no bigger than thirty centimetres in length, and twenty centimetres in height to the shoulder, the black snapdragon already surpassed this size. In fact, this week alone Coral was sure it had already grown another inch.

Thankfully, the book had emphasised that a good relationship could be built between human and snapdragons based on clear communication and trust. Exactly how, it hadn’t provided any real details on how to achieve this.

Snapdragons were smart, so in theory, they would be able to understand words and directions. This was what led to Coral spending regular intervals trying to teach them simple commands such as sit and stay, very much like training a dog, only these creatures had a penchant for biting not only her own hands, but anything they could get their mouth around. Including each other and especially the black snapdragon. Coral had to gently clean a rather large scratch down the black snapdragon’s haunch, all the while giving her sad, innocent eyes as though it hadn’t decided to initiate the fight between the smaller of its kind. Coral conceded that it may have only wanted to play, and it had begun well enough. At first the others had joined in on the fun, but the black snapdragon didn’t quite relent when the others showed signs that they didn’t like being pinned to the ground or tossed about a lot farther and harder than its crate mates could.

She did have some success. She had managed to get all of them to sit, tempting them with small chunks of beef as a reward. What Coral couldn’t compare with was mice hunting. Which was fantastic news for her. Having a small cluster of snapdragons to hunt down mice worked out quite nicely. As soon as any tiny patter of noise from a mouse was evident, it caught the immediate attention of all the snapdragons and a frenzy would begin to catch it, and then eat the poor thing. Never mind if she had already stuffed a piece of meat into one of the mouths of the snapdragons. Mice hunting was an irresistible pull for them. At least it would be quick for the mouse, one snap of sharp little teeth and its life was cut short. At least, if the others got to it before the two-headed snapdragon, one head didn’t quite seem to have any teeth yet and just chewed at it with a crushing force that made Coral wince to watch. The second head had a single fang to puncture at the very least.

She was going to have to come up with names to refer to them all. Coral couldn’t keep referring to them as “the black snapdragon”, or the more commonly used “little shits”. Did the two-headed snapdragon need one name or two?

The ghosts hadn’t been entirely quiet since their little conversation in the kitchen. Coral still caught ghostly silhouettes skittering through the corridors and darting out of sight. There would be the occasional mishap, where a candelabra was pushed from a table, or a pillow thrown across the room and aimed right at one of the snapdragons to stir them up. As this happened in the winter salon, Coral suspected it was Mr. Egbert, who had taken issue with her keeping them inside the house.

He could disagree all he wanted, as this was Coral and Pearl’s home now, and if she wanted a potential fire hazard in her manor, then that’s exactly what she was going to do. She would tell Mr. Egbert to go elsewhere if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew he couldn’t.

At least the front door had stopped becoming mysteriously unlocked.

Pearl had encouraged Coral to read the simple spell book she had purchased for her. Coral just didn’t seem to find the time to do so until late in the evenings, and as she had worn herself out from the vigorous cleaning, she would fall asleep well before she even got through the first few pages. She would get around to it, but she had so much work to do what with cleaning and caring for the snapdragons, which required far too many toilet breaks and mending of broken or ripped things in their wake, that she simply didn’t have time for it. Which was ironic as normally people who were on the mend tend to have a lot more time on their hands to lay about while their body healed. Coral couldn’t stand sitting about while she stared at the mould on the ceiling.

The mould situation was improving, in thanks to the tincture she spread on it. The mould remover was liberally applied to the corners of the Winter Salon and eradicated that problem. All in all, the Winter Salon was becoming rather cosy, despite the now mismatched chairs. From what she could tell, the mould was a result of being exposed to the weather, rather than from any dampness in the foundations. Though, she hadn’t gone down to the basement to look for any further evidence. She would wait until she could convince Silas to come help her.

If he found it in his heart to help her, that was. Coral had sent Pearl to town four days in while she was house bound, in search of Silas. She had hoped Pearl’s soft nature would appeal to Silas’s need to be a hero and assist her. Pearl had returned only with a fresh bag of flour, sugar, milk and other baking assortments, having visited the Witching Flour bakery, and a rather solemn shake of her head. Pearl hadn’t been able to find him at all. She had asked around The Dog’s House and was told that Silas was off somewhere, and no one seemed to know when he would be returning or could tell her where he had went. They could say that he had left the day after he had gone out hunting the ghoul.

Coral didn’t know if this soothed her worry or not. She would have thought it polite in the least for Silas to have visited her once while she was healing from her injuries. He had been responsible for her safety, and she had been sliced up like an apple. Pearl did mumble something about him waiting to find out how she was while she was feverish. Or that he didn’t leave until her fever finally broke. Coral ignored this, as it was the principle of the thing that he hadn’t checked in on her himself. It was just plain rude.

Pearls trip to town wasn’t completely futile. She had begun to bake in earnest, having found a recipe book from somewhere within the manor. The book was quite old and dated, but the almond slice and honey cake she made was sumptuous. She had also sought out Mr. Wiggy, to enquire about his services. He was unfortunately already very busy and had almost refused to even consider working for them until Pearl politely pointed out that they could make it worth his while, with guaranteed work in the months well after mid-winter.

Pearl looked a little concerned when she told Coral this, as they didn’t have plenty of coin to employ a carpenter full time. Coral wasn’t too concerned. If what she had learned of Direwood becoming overrun with Adventurer’s before mid-winter, then they were sure to make some money. That was if she could have the ghosts under control or removed by then. The last thing they could afford was rumours spreading to the far corners of the kingdom from Adventurer’s who have spent a few nights at her Inn, only to be disturbed by ghosts during their rest.

By the time the week was ending, Coral was eager for a long walk outside. Her leg had healed up, though the skin was still rather pink beneath the stitches. There was also a residual uncomfortable feeling whenever she touched the scarring. Coral had settled down on Pearl’s bed to read the spellbook, the nameless black snapdragon settling down on the end of the bed for a little nap after a very long and rambunctious play session she had with it, when there was a distant but unmistakable knock at the front door. Coral dropped the book back onto the bed, and the black snapdragon became alert and stared at the bedroom door.

“Come on, lets go see who it is,” she said, hoping that it was either Mr. Wiggy, or possibly Silas that had come calling. Coral made her way down to the landing, where she had a perfect view of the front door swinging open to admit a slightly confused looking Doctor Thornheart.

“Hello?” the woman called out, taking a few steps inside.

“Doctor Thornheart, welcome,” Coral called out in greeting. It wasn’t lost on her that she was standing at the top of the grand staircase and probably appeared astutely grandiose, dressed in a rather lovely dress of plum silk that draped from her shoulders that emphasised her figure. It was rather suitable for an evening meal, not for lounging as she had done. It was the only dress to wear, aside from a nightrobe while her much more comfortable and suitable clothes were drying after being freshly washed. The clothes that she had been wearing were thoroughly soaked, and somehow managed to get mud all over them. Her fingers were still pink from all the scrubbing. She also, for once, looked the picture of a refined lady with her hair pinned back in an intricate bun, with a few moonflowers tucked into the pin curls Pearl had done minutes after Coral had changed. Pearl was nowhere to be found now and was most likely in the kitchen or somewhere outside.

Coral descended the stairs, and met Doctor Thornheart in the entrance foyer, resolutely ignoring how the door swung closed seemingly by itself.

“Lady Seaver,” Doctor Thornheart said, curtseying politely. “I’ve come to see how you are doing, it’s about time your stitches come out.”

“Oh, good. This way, if you please,” Coral said, gesturing for Doctor Thornheart to take the stairs. Coral led her up to her bedroom, all the while the little black snapdragon taking enthusiastic leaps and bounds to get ahead of them.

“I see you’ve acquired a new friend. What’s its name?” Doctor Thornheart asked, almost tripping as the black snapdragon raced along in front of her.

“It doesn’t have a name yet, I’m still deciding. We have a few more, one of which is called Blossom. Pearl is quite taken with it.”

“How many do you have?”

“Twelve,” Coral said lightly, twisting the handle to her bedroom and entering.

“Twelve,” Doctor Thornheart said, raising her eyebrows. “That’s an undertaking. Sit down please.”

Coral sat on her bed, subtly nudging the small chunk of black crystal with her elbow from the bedside table so that it fell out of sight. The black snapdragon busied itself with snuffling about beneath the bed, then curled up by her feet.

Doctor Thornheart set her heavy brown bag down on the floor and gestured for Coral to expose her leg. She pursed her lips as she squinted down at the healed flesh, then nodded her head in affirmation that it was time to remove the stitches. She worked quickly, the plucking and pulling nowhere near as irritating as it had been putting up with the healing process. When she was done, Coral was disheartened to see the long, pink lines streaked across her thigh. Her first real scar, and it was this monstrosity. From almost hip and down to knee, four long streaks marred her once perfect skin, with a small fifth mark as a last insult. From each slash, there were still the spidery veining where the infection had spread, still pink as ever. She was lucky to have lived, there was no denying that. Still, there was a part of her that mourned her blemish free skin.

She knew distantly that she was being silly. That she was alive, which was more than what Mr. Claysend had gotten. She should be grateful. Yet, these sensible thoughts did nothing to dissuade the swell of bitter emotions roiling through her.

“Will the scarring go away?” Coral asked, folding her dress back down to a respectable manner.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“It will fade, but I don’t think it will ever go away. Not without magical intervention. I can conduct such a service, but it doesn’t come cheap,” Doctor Thornheart said. She studiously packed away the tools she had used in a separate bag, then stashed them away into the brown bag she carried with her.

“How much, exactly?” Coral asked, mentally bracing herself to hear a disastrous amount.

Doctor Thornheart snapped her bag closed. “Five hundred gold. That sort of healing work requires a lot of power and time. I only ever offer this sort of thing to people in dire need for a minimal fee. Say, for instance, someone who has had their face melted off from getting on the bad side of a Sunglow Spider. Permanent disfigurement on a ten-year-old is a hard thing to see.”

Doctor Thornheart frowned at Coral in a discerning sort of way. Her pretty brown eyes cutting straight through to the core of Coral, giving her the feeling that Doctor Thornheart was seeing more than what she was saying.

“This is not a disfigurement, Lady Seaver. What you did, was both very brave and very stupid,” Doctor Thornheart said frankly. “It’s proof that you’ve survived. That you can heal from an ordeal. They are not flaws, simply a mark that you have lived and are still alive, that you have pulled yourself back together in the face of trauma.”

“When you live out here, where monsters are a very real threat, it touches as all. You see signs of it everywhere, on our homes. On our flesh and in our hearts.”

She stepped back and pulled the sleeve of her blouse up, her skin raised with gooseflesh from the chill in the air. At the crook of her elbow was a jagged cut, the skin raised, and disappeared further up her arm, hidden beneath her sleeve.

“I haven’t bothered smoothing out my own. Seldom few people who dabble on the dangerous side of the kingdom are unscathed. I find this acts as a reminder to be more vigilant and to be faster next time around. That I survived. I like to think of it as a badge of honour,” Doctor Thornheart said, looking down at the scar across her arm. “I don’t think I could find it in myself to ever cover this up.”

“Is it rude of me to ask how that happened?” Coral said hesitantly.

Doctor Thornheart rolled her sleeve back down and shivered slightly. It had gotten quite cool over the last minute or so.

“Last year in the Night of the Undead. I was glad to not count myself among the fallen that night,” Doctor Thornheart said. “Serves me right for being out in the thick of things when I should have been in the Guild, doing my mending there. Mr. Applebard won’t let me hear the end of it. A good thing too, it comes with a reminder to not make stupid choices.”

She gave Coral a meaningful look then. Coral took it for it’s worth. It wasn’t admonishment. It was simply that Doctor Thornheart was offering her silent advice to think more carefully and to act smarter. It was the kind of look she would have wanted from a friend. It warmed her a little then, knowing that Doctor Thornheart cared enough to even offer such communication.

There was no point in explaining to her the reasons for what drove Coral into such a situation in the first place. Neither did Doctor Thornheart pry, which was more than what Coral could say for herself.

Coral could respect that. It made her feel a little better about the raw, red slashes across her thigh. The veining hadn’t gone away, and the skin felt odd under her touch. But she could think of it as a mark of survival. Even, a badge of honour, as Doctor Thornheart had put it. Coral had managed to endure the mistreatment from her father, and now, she had survived a monster feared by experienced Adventurer’s. The marks left from these experiences wasn’t something she should be ashamed of.

“Thank you,” Coral said earnestly, putting as much feeling into those two words as she could. “For everything.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I haven’t charged you for those healing salves,” Doctor Thornheart said light-heartedly. “Nor to remove that curse I can see that’s been set on you.”

“You can see that?” Coral asked, relieved.

“Naturally. I am a witch,” Doctor Thornheart said sharply. “It will be easy enough to remove, except I’m afraid to say that it will be some time before I would be able to conduct the appropriate counter-curse. There are a few ingredients I need, and I am in short supply.”

This came as no surprise. As winter approached, the roads became icier, and travel harder, which made goods harder to come by. While Coral had resigned herself to having to ration sugar and spices, she hadn’t considered medicine or herbs witches would need. There was still the Dire River as a means of transportation, though Coral was unsure if it froze over during the colder months. The water ran deep, and in some parts, rather fast. But if Adventurer’s were able to arrive to Direwood for a midwinter slaughter-fest, then surely someone would be able to bring what they needed.

They discussed what Doctor Thornheart would need to remove the filth curse. Simply put, Coral had to cleanse herself of any residual infections, germs, and other unfavourable thing to the human body. Then, Doctor Thornheart would be able to pull the curse from her, though it sounded as if it was more of an extraction rather than dissolving the magic.

The door to the bedroom burst open. Doctor Thornheart whirled about; her hand raised with a sphere of glowing light crackling in her palm. With a squeak, Pearl fell through the doorway, her face stricken as she tried to catch herself. She stumbled a few steps then finally lost balance and landed heavily on the floor.

Both Doctor Thornheart and Coral stared at the sudden intrusion. The light in Doctor Thornheart’s hand dissipated, and she swooped down to help Pearl.

It looked very much like Pearl had been thrown into the room. In fact, Coral was certain that was exactly what had happened.

“Are you alright?” Doctor Thornheart asked.

“I, uh, well,” Pearl stammered, looking fearful as she stood straight again. Her eyes found Coral standing at the bedside. “I’m not hurt, just a little shaken up I think.”

Beside Coral, the black snapdragon had become alert and was staring intently at the door. The small scales running from the back of its head down to its shoulders were raised, its wings tucked in tight about its round body, and it stood perfectly still as its button eyes focused on something Coral couldn’t see. Pearl took a step back, knocking into the door, which made it swing back into its frame. There was a resolute click as the lock on the door engaged.

With growing suspicion, Coral crossed the room and tried to turn the handle and confirmed for herself that the door was indeed locked. Gritting her teeth, she rattled the doorknob again for good measure, silently cursing the two ghosts she suspected were behind this. Alvis Borthwell and Cicero Bramer, the two who had served as footmen in the Rayner’s household staff were obviously up to something. Had they stayed relatively quiet this week to lull her into a false sense of security?

Is this what living with ghosts was going to be like from this moment on?

She’ll be certain to take care of this right away. She had a visitor, and this was the exact moment they had decided they were going to make their presence known. Coral had to bite down harder on her tongue, so she didn’t start lashing out impolite words in front of Doctor Thornheart.

This would be awful for her Inn’s reputation.

“It’s locked,” Coral managed to grind out with some effort. She went to dig around in her skirts for the ring of keys she kept on her, only to realise she didn’t have them. This dress didn’t have a hidden pocket. She had put them down on Pearl’s vanity dresser earlier. She had completely forgotten to fetch them when she went to answer the front door.

She turned to the two women standing behind her, as if either of them could magically produce the keys from their own pockets. They stared back at her, Pearl, who looked like a frightened mouse, and Doctor Thornheart who appeared to be bewildered at being locked in the bedroom with them.

“I could break the lock, if you don’t have another option,” Doctor Thornheart offered, peering at the door.

Coral did not want to add yet another thing to the list of items that needed mending. They needed locks on the bedroom doors, and having never installed one herself, she didn’t want to find out she was hopeless at doing so before she could hire Mr. Wiggy’s help.

Behind Doctor Thornheart’s back, she could see the bathroom door had begun to creak open. Hoping to cover the noise, Coral said loudly, “I think I have a spare key I keep in the bathroom,” and hurried over to the opening doorway.

Coral closed the door behind her, turned and looked at her harried reflection in the cracked mirror above the basin. “What are you playing at,” she hissed to the room.

While she had become accustomed to silence as her answer when she spoke directly to the ghosts she assumed were there, it came as a shock to hear scratching against the walls. She looked around the sink, up and across the mirror’s surface and wooden frame. The hideous lime green curtain didn’t flutter, nor did anything else stir for that matter. She listened hard while trying to discover the source of the scratching. There, across the room at the clawfoot bathtub, just above her first scratched message, a second word was being etched into the wall.

Coral stared as the last few letters seemingly formed.

“Beware,” Coral breathed. Her anger dissipating.

“Beware of what, exactly?” Coral said crossing her arms, though, her showmanship wasn’t quite up to her usual standards. She didn’t feel confident enough to be tetchy with an unknown ghost providing an ominous warning. Was this a warning to be wary, or was this a threat against herself?

This better not be some ridiculous trick they were playing on her out of boredom. Did ghosts become bored?

Coral waited a moment, watching the space above the word. Nothing appeared. She huffed, unfolded her arms, and let them flop to her sides. If they were going to play silly games, she better get Doctor Thornheart out of the manor before she noticed anything too unusual.

Coral did not, in fact, keep a spare key in the bathroom. She did however have a small collection of hairpins she kept in the bathroom. She collected a few, adjusted her dress then opened the door with a little more composure and an apologetic smile plastered on her face. If it weren’t for years of practice, it would have been rather difficult to hide her concern.

“I’ve misplaced the key. Not to worry, I can get us out of here,” Coral said. She crossed back over to the door and inserted the hair pin.

“What are you doing?” Pearl asked, sounding confused.

“Unlocking the door,” Coral explained, squinting slightly at the keyhole.

Coral inserted the first hairpin to tension the lock then used a second to rake it back and forth. She hadn’t done this in quite some time and felt out of practice. Coral had become quite accomplished at picking locks growing up with a father that liked to keep her out of things. Though, this did put her in mind of acquiring better locks. Or should she look into using magic as an alternative to the more traditional lock and key?

After a moment, the lock popped open with a click. She stepped back, turned the handle, and the door swung open.

Pearl looked at her reproachfully. “When did you learn to do that?” she said, sounding both impressed and irritated.

“Oh, a while ago,” Coral said airily. “Besides, look how useful it’s been. The manor has been neglected for so long that things like this happen more often than I care for. It is highly inconvenient, and something I intend to remedy.”

Coral strode out of her room, shoulders set, and her head held high with dignity. She walked fast, which left no room for Pearl or Doctor Thornheart to linger in her bedroom without her. They hurried to catch up to her as she made for the stairs. The little black snapdragon was already happily panting by her heels.

The corridor that led onwards had grown darker, as though all the colour had been leached from all surfaces. Coral almost lost her footing as she reached the landing. A tall woman stood facing the door to the nursery, her hand raised up and stroking the door, her other clutching at the skirt of her shadowy dress. The material spilled down her figure in soft undulating waves. Her long blonde hair was half falling from the delicate bun atop her head.

Coral hadn’t seen her before. The transparency to the woman’s edges was a sure sign that she was not a part of the physical world. Taking this all in her stride and hoping Pearl did not notice the strange, incorporeal woman staring at the nursery door, Coral hurried down the stairs a little too fast for propriety’s sake.

When she reached the entrance foyer, the front door was already ajar and waiting. Coral stepped out first, turned sharply and ushered Pearl and Doctor Thornheart out. The pleasant expression she was holding on her face was starting to feel rather fixed.

The abruptness of Coral’s dismissal of Doctor Thornheart was not lost on her, and she hoped, after the kindness that the woman had shown her earlier, that she did not take offense.

“Thank you again for your house call. Now that I am no longer confined to rest, I’m quite eager to stretch my legs. Allow me to escort you to the end of the drive,” Coral said.

Doctor Thornheart nodded her head, as though she expected this sort of behaviour. “I understand. I struggle myself with staying still whenever I’m resting. Though, be sure to not overexert yourself. Gentle exercise to begin with, if you please. If you feel any unpleasantness, swelling, blisters or the veining begins to grow, be sure to fetch either myself or Mr. Norwood.”

“I will,” Coral said wholeheartedly. The thought of possible blisters was a wholly unpleasant notion. She stepped down the few steps to the drive, the black snapdragon already bounding off. She let it be, it always stayed within eyesight of her, she assumed, as it was actually quite hard to find when it scuffled about in bushes, and always came trotting back in search of her.

Pearl trailed behind them, looking back anxiously every few steps at the manor. If Doctor Thornheart had noticed anything, she was polite enough to not say so. She could only hope if she had suspected any ghostly activity, she kept it to herself. Discretion was expected of doctors after all, though, that was for medical history rather than possibly haunted manors.

“I’ll be sure to send out an invitation to you to join me for supper,” Coral said warmly. “To thank you, for all your help.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Lady Seaver, think nothing of it,” Doctor Thornheart said with a quick curtsey.

Coral swung the gate open and waved off Doctor Thornheart. The woman had arrived by foot. While it wasn’t a long walk, carrying her medical bag all the way to Moonflower Inn from town would be heavy. Ideally, she would have liked to have a carriage to allow easy travel for her guests to arrive in comfort. It was another thing to add to her growing list.

When Doctor Thornheart was some distance down the road, Coral turned to Pearl.

“Are you really alright?”

“No!” Pearl wailed. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was. Well. I don’t really know what happened. I was heading towards my room, and then the next moment I couldn’t move. Except I was moving. I felt my whole body lift, and then I was pulled down to your room. I couldn’t yell out or anything, it was all so sudden.”

Pearl’s eyebrows pinched together as she turned to look back at the manor once again.

“I think I need to take a trip into town sooner than later,” Coral said, watching Pearl. It was one thing, to have the ghosts’ trouble herself, it was an entirely different matter when they dared to manhandle Pearl.

“Town!” Pearl snapped, looking shocked that Coral would suggest such a thing. “Whatever for! Coral, I was just. Oh, I don’t know what. Harassed by ghosts? I couldn’t do a thing to stop them. Surely this is more important.”

“To find Silas. He seems rather closed lipped, and I want to keep this haunting as quiet as possible,” Coral explained.

“Oh,” Pearl said, her shoulders relaxing a little. “He’s away, I don’t know when he will be back.”

“I’ll be sure to be insistent that he calls on us as soon as possible. I’ll leave a note and come to town every day if I must.” Coral was determined to be as relentless as possible to get the help she wanted.

“Come here you,” she said, catching the black snapdragon up before it could wander off too far down the road. “Let’s put the dragons away safely before leaving.”

“Would it be safe for them, do you think?” Pearl asked worriedly.

“The ghosts only locked us in the room. As far as I’m concerned, that’s an overstep on their welcome.”

Coral cradled the wriggling snapdragon in her arms, unwilling to let it go. She did briefly wonder if perhaps they should temporarily place them in one of the outbuildings, then quickly dashed away that thought. The ghosts would be able to reach them if they wanted to. The only place for them where they would be undisturbed would be off the manor’s grounds. That unfortunately wasn’t an option, as the snapdragons would be exposed to anyone or anything that come along and take them.

Coral and Pearl made their way quickly back to the manor. The front door wasn’t locked, the handle twisted easily, except it did not budge one inch.

“Not again,” Pearl sighed, stepping back to look about the manor. “Why are they doing this?”

“I don’t know,” Coral muttered, staring hard at the door. “Let us in,” she demanded, smacking a hand against the wooden door. When this didn’t produce the result she wanted, Coral handed the snapdragon to Pearl, clutched at the doorhandle and shoved. The door refused to open. She put more weight behind a second shove, then a third.

This was ridiculous. At this rate, she should march down to Crowcaller and ask to borrow her glaive. If she swung Blacktalon about in all the rooms, surely she’d snatch one ghost.

“Mr. Bramer, Mr. Borthwell, this is highly inappropriate,” Coral said.

“Perhaps we should try the back, through the kitchen,” Pearl suggested.

“No, that will be useless. They’ll just bar that door too,” Coral stepped back and thought for a moment about what to do.

The snapdragons hadn’t burnt anything down yet, confined to the Winter Salon as they were. She had grown confident enough to leave them be unsupervised in the room for short periods during the day. While yes, she had to accept some wear and tear from their exploration with their mouths and scratches from their talons, that was typical of any pet, they hadn’t caused too much damage. It was warm in the room, and while not ideal in the current circumstances, they were at least comfortable.

“I think we’ll leave them be, for now. We won’t be too long. Unless one of us climbs through a window. I don’t particularly want to replace more glass.”

“But, what if something happens to Blossom, or one of the other snapdragons?”

“The ghosts haven’t purposely harmed anyone. For now, I’m going to assume that this is still the case,” Coral said, taking the black snapdragon back. It clawed at her, and she winced a little as she felt her skin smart against its talons. Coral encouraged it to climb up so that it could perch itself across the back of her shoulders. It was a little awkward, it had grown quite a lot, and it kept flapping one of its wings into her face.

Coral picked up her skirts, keeping one hand up as bracing support for the snapdragon, and made for Direwood. The state of her dress was going to be in shambles if she couldn’t keep the hem from dragging along the ground. Pearl helped a little, gathering the dress where it fell, and then tucked it beneath Coral’s bent arm. Her shins were exposed, but she would have to make do if she didn’t want the filth curse to stain the dress.