The Alps Obscure

by Oster, Camille

  Taking a deep breath, she drew herself together. No point standing there. If someone was going to attack her, they were going to. Either go back or continue. She felt torn. Looking up the stairs, she saw only darkness, the merest light coming from the landing upstairs. Really, why couldn’t they put more lighting in the hallways at a time like this?

  Pulling up her skirt, she started up the staircase, fear dripping off her. She tried to ignore it—pretended she wasn’t scared, but she was trembling if one looked close enough.

  At the landing, she peeked around the corner and saw nothing, then she ran to her room, stopping when she got there and remembered she had to get her key out. Why hadn’t she prepared?

  The damned thing seemed stuck in her reticule and her fingers were clumsy. The moment of looking down made her feel exposed and intermittently, her eyes searched each direction of the corridor—aware there was a spot behind her that was unguarded.

  The key fell from her fingers and she almost cried in frustration as she quickly bent to pick it up. Shoving it in the keyhole, she unlocked the door and slipped inside, quickly re-locking the door again. She’d made it. A deep breath accompanied her relief. Now she stared into the warm room that was only lit by the fire. It had been tended to.

  Never in her life had she been disturbed by servants coming and going, but now she was intensely aware that someone had been in her room. As before, she lodged the chair under the handle, which had her giving up her usual seat by the fire. The feeling of safety was worth it.

  Putting the reticule down, she took off her shoes. It really wasn’t good staying here. She’d been attacked, and she feared for her life. Why was she torturing herself like this? Because she’d want Oliver to do that for her if the tables were reversed. Maybe he wouldn’t have, she wondered. How would she know he would? She barely knew him.

  Exhaustion nipped at her. It had been a trying day. A day so long. She’d been accused, disparaged, beaten and helpless. Each day, it seemed that her mood and disposition sank lower and lower, as well as her situation. The constable wasn’t making things better, and now she truly needed help from the rational world she knew back home.

  Feeling despondent, she undressed and then unpinned her hair. Oliver’s toothbrush still sat by hers, waiting for him to return. It made her sad seeing it forgotten and forlorn.

  The sheets were cold as she got in, but her body was grateful to lie down. It felt as though she could sleep forever. Right now, she didn’t know if her dreams or her reality was worse.

  Sleep took her quickly.

  The familiar scene of the battleground surrounded her. The earth charred, bodies unrecognizable beyond a simple form. She didn’t want to be here, but knew there was no walking away from it.

  Carefully, she placed her feet on earth and not something else. Fear sat deeply in her belly like a weight. She wasn’t welcome here—this wasn’t a place for her.

  Mist formed and undulated around her, making everything seem far and distant. There were others, beings she didn’t want to meet—beings she feared. Over to the left, such a being, clad in rags, was searching through the bodies for loot. A crow picked. Clemmie watched it, the familiar shiny black eyes watching her. There was intelligence there, and she feared the crow would squawk and draw attention to her.

  Mist enveloped her and she couldn’t see anything for a moment. Then faded to reveal the hill of bodies, and the Roman standing on top of it with his spear, and the red cape. With his broad, stern face, he surveyed the land. What he saw from up there, she had no idea. Maybe he was looking for a way out too. Clearly, he hadn’t found it in all this time.

  As she feared he would, his eyes shifted down to her. “I told you not to come here.”

  “I am trying to find a way to leave,” she answered back, feeling angry. “They won’t let me leave.”

  “Or you won’t let yourself leave.”

  “Maybe.” The accusation was true. “I haven’t found what I seek.” What was she seeking? She couldn’t remember, but she was definitely searching for something.

  “Why should you find it?” he asked. His voice was harsh and as stern as his face. There was nothing about him that seemed to like her, or show a modicum of compassion. But she knew she wasn’t a threat to him. Instead a mere annoyance.

  “Not a question I can answer.”

  “Have you looked?”

  “Not enough. I don’t know where to look.” That was the second half. First, she didn’t know what she was searching for, second, she didn’t know where to look. He thought her a stupid, silly girl, and she had nothing to convince him otherwise.

  “You must go up the mountain to find what you seek.”

  The mists came in and she was being drawn away. Or the hill of bodies was drawn away, and her instincts told her it wouldn’t come back. She was being pushed away.

  She woke with a start, that same jerk she did when she feared she was falling. Her stomach was twisted in knots and the sheets were again damp with sweat. The unease from the dream lingered, but her senses absorbed the calm silence of the room. The fire dying.

  Getting up, she replenished the coal and then hunched by fire until it built up more warmth. That horrid dream again. And more night sweats. Maybe she should worry that she actually had a fever that was causing her so much trouble at night. It could even be poison.

  With a wince, she pushed the thought away, along with the feelings of uselessness. Everyone thought she was a stupid and silly girl, and how could she argue? Even her dreams were saying so. But they had also said that what she sought was up the mountain.

  What a strange thing to be told in a dream. What did it mean?

  What she sought was Oliver, and now her dream had told her that what she sought was up the mountain. The Roman soldier had said so.

  Staring into the fire, she blinked. Why would her mind tell her that? Also that horrid bird. It was the same one that had smacked into the window, but that had definitely not been a dream. It had been real. The sound of it smacking into the glass was still with her.

  Her mind was drawing these things together. The bird, the legend. Her search. And her dream was telling her he was up the mountain. The mountain had been searched. Still, the Roman told her he was there.

  What they knew now of that man’s methods, the culprit responsible for this, was that he sedated and stored them in the hotel until he carried them away, like he had with her. It could be that he’d waited until after the search and then carried Oliver up there somewhere. In the cart. That must have been where she’d been taken too.

  With her chin on her knee, she forbade herself from thinking the thought that was just under the surface of her conscious thoughts, the fact that in her gut, she felt that Roman wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was the one, or one of the ghosts, roaming these mountains.

  What did that make the hill of bodies? His victims? His company? Or was it how he saw the place he dwelled? It certainly wasn’t a scene her mind would have concocted. Battle and bodies wasn’t her purview, but it certainly had been his.

  Discomfort crept like icy water down her spine. She didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her, but she’d been drawn back into that same dream on a number of occasions now. And he was telling her to find what she sought up the mountain. That’s where Oliver was.

  Chapter 29

  “MR. WEBER!” CLEMMIE CALLED as she reached the empty lobby. It was early, and she’d waited since waking up from that dream—nightmare was a better description.

  “Ah, Mrs. Rowland,” he said, emerging from the back office. “How may I assist you?”

  “We have to search the mountain again.”

  “We already searched the mountain, even the surrounding ones.”

  “I believe I was being taken to where he took the others. They are up there. I’m sure of it. From what we know now, he sedates his victims and stows them somewhere in the hotel before carrying them away. And I think he waited until the search was done before tak
ing Oliver there.”

  “I’m not sure people will be glad to search again. We searched the hotel.”

  “Yes, but after Oliver was removed. We must search again. He isn’t anywhere else, is he? We’ve looked. And yes, I understand that many were questioning whether he has simply left me, but two other men have disappeared as well. These men have been placed somewhere.”

  “And if we find them, based on your urging, the constable will be convinced of your guilt. If not, he will accuse you of distraction.”

  Clemmie hadn’t thought of that. It was true. “That cannot matter. The important thing is to find Oliver.” A new hope inside her wouldn’t be quelled. If not to find him alive, then at least to find him to take home to his family. It was hard to think of him as her family. They’d known each other such a short amount of time. “We must find him. It is all that matters. Constable Luchon and his suspicions will be to be dealt with afterward.”

  “You seem very adamant today. Now full of energy after seeming so drained yesterday.”

  For a moment, Clemmie considered telling him of the dream. “Yesterday was difficult, but today, I feel like this is the right thing. We will find him if we search.”

  “If you insist, I will try to organize a search. It will be more difficult this time as people will be reluctant to search ground they’ve already searched.”

  “I will join in the search this time,” Clemmie said. The words had come out before she’d even thought about it. Never in her life would she volunteer to clamber over a mountain, but she also knew she’d already done it. She was stronger than she’d convinced herself she was. “I can help.”

  Partially, she also felt strong in her conviction, and maybe the Roman soldier would even give her a sign when it was necessary. If that was even possible, she didn’t know, but she would look for a sign all the same. Because of this, she knew she had to go.

  Mr. Weber bit his nail as if he was worried. “I hope Mr. Luchon does not stand in the way.”

  “As a policeman, how could he stand in the way of a search? He should be motivated to find these men.”

  “He is very suspicious of you,” Mr. Weber said. “And he would be naturally suspicious of your suggestions.”

  “That may be as it is, but this search must happen. Oliver is up the mountain somewhere. I’m convinced of it. That man must have been taking me there. He’d definitely been taking me along a road leading off this road out here. That must be where we search.”

  Something in Mr. Weber’s expression told her he wasn’t convinced, but right now, she didn’t care—as long as a search party was called together. “Maybe we can convince Mr. Luchon that this search is his idea.”

  “No, that will take too long. Call together the search, and we will search. That man seems too set in his ways to be reasonable. I’ll deal with him afterward.” Likely there would be accusations of wasting people’s time if they didn’t find anything, of attempts to misdirect attention away from her.

  That was all things she had to think about later. Right now, she had to consider if she had shoes that were sturdy enough to tramp around mountains. The answer was no, but there was little she could do about that.

  “I will send one of the boys around the village to see if anyone is willing to join us. I’m sure Mr. Schonberg will be willing to help. Possibly Mr. Luchon.” He drifted off in thought for a while as he planned the search. Then he looked at her. “If you are to join the search, then you should eat a hearty breakfast. Service hasn’t started yet, but return in…” He checked his pocket watch, “… half an hour.”

  Clemmie nodded, feeling proud and excited she’d achieved getting this search planned. All she’d done was ask for it, but it still felt like an accomplishment. In her heart, she knew they would find Oliver today. The question was what state he would be in. The Roman hadn’t said anything about it, other than where to find him.

  Curiously, she still remembered the dream vividly. Normally, dreams started fading for her the moment she woke, but she recalled his face and his voice. Although she couldn’t tell what language they’d been speaking. As a Roman, he wouldn’t have known English, and she spoke no Latin, but perhaps in dreams, communication was in something other than language.

  Underneath, there was fear in her that they’d come back from this search empty-handed—that all of this had been nothing more than her imagination. But they were not fears she could give into.

  With a nod, she agreed and then left him. She returned to her room, passing one of the newer couples staying at the hotel. It felt strange being cordial as she would in the normal way, when she was wary down into her bones that someone would switch character completely and try to hurt her.

  But they simply nodded in return and continued on their way. Once passed, Clemmie rushed up the stairs and to her room, locking herself inside as had become an essential habit now.

  What clothes did she have that were suitable for a search party? None, really. It wasn’t something she’d expected in her wildest dreams. Well, her traveling coat was sturdier than anything else, so that would be what she wore. And shoes. There was one pair of walking shoes, intended for walking down the Mall and such places, but they would have to suffice. There was a good chance they wouldn’t survive the day, but she didn’t care.

  Dressed to brave the weather, she returned downstairs again for the start of the breakfast service. The Schonbergs stood waiting to be invited in.

  “Ah, Mrs. Rowland,” Mrs. Schonberg said. “We hear there is to be another search.” The woman looked her up and down. “Are you to participate?”

  “Yes,” Clemmie said.

  “Those boots are not suitable.”

  “I am aware. It is the best I can do.”

  “I have a pair I can lend you. You will be much better off wearing a pair with sturdy leather soles.”

  Never in her life had she even considered purchasing boots with sturdy leather soles. “That is very kind.”

  “Are you sure you are up for the task?” Mrs. Schonberg asked.

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Good. We will both be joining.”

  “I am very grateful for your help throughout. You have both been very kind.”

  “Mr. Weber was saying there was a good chance Oliver was hidden in the hotel while we searched, and dispo… and moved later.”

  Clemmie smiled tightly. “It seems to fit how this man does things.”

  “But now we must eat,” Mr. Schonberg continued brightly. “One needs strength for a search. I wonder if they will bring dogs again.”

  “I should bring something of Oliver’s for them to smell.”

  “With so many days passed, a trail has likely dissipated. But I am not an expert on dogs. Perhaps it is a good idea.”

  One of the serving women invited them in and they walked in to see steaming plates of porridge and eggs. There were also cold-cuts and cheese. Clemmie laid on a generous portion for herself, and she joined the Schonbergs at their table.

  “We have decided we will return home once the constable says it's acceptable for us to leave. This has been the most unusual and tense holiday,” Mrs. Schonberg said.

  As for herself, Clemmie expected there was a chance she’d be arrested before she had a chance to return to English soil. “Both of us have had honeymoons that have been far from expected,” Clemmie said, finding it hard to think she was still technically on her honeymoon. As were the Schonbergs.

  “We are thinking we might return in late summer. This is a beautiful area in the summer.”

  Clemmie smiled, but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure anything could impel her to return here again. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure she could be urged to leave England again. This feeling of being remote and friendless hadn’t been one she’d enjoyed.

  They ate and finished quickly.

  “I believe we are leaving shortly. I will go collect the boots for you,” Mrs. Schonberg said. “Mr. Weber said he was gathering men from the villa
ge, and I think we are to meet outside.”

  “I will go get one of Oliver’s neckerchiefs. There is one or two that should carry his scent. For the dogs.”

  It comforted her that Mrs. Schonberg joined her to walk down the corridor. When they parted, Clemmie ran again, darting up the stairs and into her room. She searched through Oliver’s trunk and found the neckerchief and shoved it into her pocket.

  The search was an excuse for her to run down the corridors, and she reached the lobby without interference. Maybe the culprit was too scared now that the search was on. Now that the victims were to be found. Clemmie fully believed the day would be successful. She felt it in her gut.

  “Ah, you are to join the search, Mrs. Rowland?” the constable said when she arrived.

  “Yes, as it is my Oliver missing.”

  “A perfect opportunity for a culprit to sneak away.” He had that intensity when he watched her, as if she would reveal her guilt.

  “That must make things difficult for you as the culprit could choose to sneak away from the hotel while we’re searching.”

  “You did not join the first search. Why was that?”

  “I was too distraught,” she said. The truth was that she hadn’t thought herself capable, but she would rather die than reveal that vulnerability to this man.

  “These are the boots,” Mrs. Schonberg said and held up a pair of the ugliest boots Clemmie had laid eyes on. “They are not the height of fashion in anyone’s books, but your feet will thank you at the end of the day.”

  “That is what’s important,” Clemmie said and took them. “Excuse me,” she said dryly to the constable. The man really was horrible.

  On the far side of the lobby, Clemmie took a seat and changed her shoes for the boots. They were heavy and made her feel hefty, but they were comfortably broad inside. Shifting her shoes behind the seat, Clemmie stashed them there until she came back, and then joined the party who was moving outside.