Chapter 1

Hauerlitz Vicinity, Island of Rügen, 1804

    Sophia Miller darted naked through the midnight forest, her feet barely skimming the cool, dew-covered bark strips that poked up, tickling between her toes. The crisp, salty aroma of the Baltic filled her senses, and she shivered as a brisk wind whistled through the trees, blowing her hair back over her shoulders.
    Thunder rumbled in the distance, and restless waves crashed against the steep, jagged chalk cliffs far below. Storms usually frightened Sophia, but tonight she barely noticed it. Slow-moving shadows loomed ahead in the distant glow of firelight, and she knew the someone--or something--who had summoned her, would be waiting.
    She clawed her way through a dense thicket, vaguely aware of the sharp twigs piercing into her hair, the thorns digging into her palms and scraping her bare arms. She was determined to reach the opening in the trees and feel the warmth of the rising flame.
    Her pace slowed, and she felt as though she were trudging through mud instead of running. She cursed under her breath, extending her arms in a futile attempt to reach the opening.        Painfully burrowing her toes into the hardened ground, she pushed with all her might. Instead of moving forward, she nearly fell on her face before the familiar feel of strong, invisible hands caught her in a vice-like grip and wrenched her backward, farther and farther away from the clearing. She struggled, but proved no match for the powerful, unseen force.
    In an instant, she found herself back inside the castle.
    The cold stone ceiling scraped against her exposed back as she hovered, suspended in her gloomy bedroom, gazing down at her own sleeping form, illuminated by a thin shard of moonlight. The thick quilt was bundled in a heap at her feet, and her dark hair spread out across the pillow covering.
    Sophia’s thoughts dimmed as she gave in to the nothingness that engulfed her. A strange, dissolving feeling swept over her, as her freed soul reconnected with her physical body in a violent, painful union.
    The stale castle air tore into her lungs, and she awoke in the dark, screaming.
    Footsteps echoed from the passage outside her door, and her cousin, Karl, burst into the room. Sophia could just see the outline of his haggard face in the sparse light of the candle he carried.
She sat up in bed and pressed her palms against her eyes. Now the fear would come. It never occurred during sleep, when the nighttime world seemed a true and welcome part of her existence, as if she belonged in the darkness. Afterward, though, it crawled into the pit of her belly. She shuddered at such a terrifying thought, and tightly hugged her shoulders, rocking herself. Each time she awakened from these...dreams...the feeling was the same. The blood raced through her body, and she felt winded, as though she’d just finished running a great distance.
    Karl stood in the doorway, out of breath. “Another nightmare?”
    Sophia narrowed her eyes, suspicious of this new cousin. She didn’t know him well enough to tell if it was weariness or contempt she detected in his high-pitched, whining voice--such a conspicuous contrast to his bullish frame.
She jumped when a streak of lightning brightened the room, a loud crack of thunder immediately on its tail.
    “They’re getting worse each night.” She lowered her hands, looked at her arms and gasped.    “Karl, please come here,” she whispered, unsure of what she was seeing.
    He crossed the room and knelt by the bed. Impatiently yanking her wrist toward him, he held the fire close enough to heat her skin. She stared down in the candle glow and saw small, pink scratches covering her arm. A few appeared deep and welted.
    Sophia turned toward Freda. She had almost forgotten the young housekeeper, sitting in a chair in a dark corner, mumbling in German and whimpering softly. “Did you see anything?”
Freda didn’t respond. She had freed a thick, jet-black strand of hair from the tightly wound bun on top of her head, and was tugging it downward in a futile attempt to conceal her saucer-shaped eyes.
    Karl straightened, his jaw muscles furiously working. “Should I have Freda awaken the manservant--Wilhelm, I believe he’s called--and send him for a doctor? I’m sure there must be a physician somewhere in that rundown village at the bottom of the cliffs.”
    Sophia released a frustrated sob and turned away. “Please don’t bother. They’re only scratches.” She dropped her voice to barely a whisper. “Besides, no doctor’s treatment can cure what’s happening to me.”
    Karl clenched her shoulder with an abrasive hand and drew her around to face him. “We’ve got to do something. I--you--can’t go on like this. None of us can. I haven’t had a decent night’s rest since we arrived. It feels more like four weeks than four days.” He blew out an annoyed sigh and released her, swiping the back of his hand over his forehead.
    He turned toward Freda and fixed her with a level stare. “What did you see, girl? That’s why you’re in here, isn’t it?” he snapped. “Did my cousin’s living spirit rise from her body right before your eyes?”
    Freda sniffled, shrugged, and turned her face away from his scrutiny. Sophia winced at the cruel mockery in Karl’s voice and his harsh, callous tone. She pitied the tiny young woman, who appeared accustomed to such treatment.
    Karl stomped to a table next to the wardrobe and peered down his nose at Freda. “You fell asleep again, didn’t you? You haven’t even noticed that Fräulein Miller’s wash basin is dry.” He looked Freda up and down with obvious distaste. “I’m not surprised. Go now, girl. Get a damp cloth to clean her wounds. And make it quick.”
    Freda stood and ran from the room, pausing outside the door to remove a candle from a wall sconce. Her shadow grew long, then disappeared as she scurried down the corridor toward the stairway. The girl was so small and underdeveloped--almost elfin in appearance. When they’d first arrived, Sophia had guessed her age to be of a very young girl. But Freda was, in fact, a woman of twenty years.
    Karl gazed at the dark doorway, raking one fingernail through the rust-colored stubble that couldn’t quite hide his weak, receding chin. “The wretched thing’s scared out of her mind. I wonder what’s gotten into the superstitious little mouse.” He shrugged. “No matter. It appears I might have to stay in here myself during the night, and get to the bottom of this. I can’t seem to trust anyone with the simple task of awakening you when the tormenting nightmares come.”
Sophia cringed at the idea of Karl sitting in the dark watching her sleep. She somehow managed to stifle the chill that threatened to overtake her at such a disgusting thought. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
    Slow, deep thunder rolled through the black night outside the window; a sad, eerie moan floated in the distance just beneath the noise.
    “After Freda cleans those scratches, try to get some rest.” Karl’s eyes looked as hard as the castle stone and his voice held no emotion. “The dreams never come more than once a night, do they?”
    Sophia suspected the concern in his voice was for his own welfare and not hers. She raised her arms beside her face. “If they were only dreams... It might be absurd, but what about this family curse of which we were told in town? You don’t suppose any of those rumors could be true?” She’d thought the old man who spoke to them upon their arrival had spouted foolish nonsense, but now she wasn’t so sure.
    Karl studied her, then spoke with a deliberateness most people reserved for a small child who doesn’t understand--which only served to enhance Sophia’s defensiveness and her distrust of her cousin.
    “We’ve been over this,” he said. “You realize what you’re saying is not only impossible, it’s pure blasphemy. Moreover, talk of a curse is ridiculous. Our ancestors were probably just more eccentric than these people were accustomed to, so they contrived stories about our family.”
    “But I tell you, it feels as though, each night, my spirit leaves my body to run through the woods like a wild animal!”
    Her voice sounded shrill and foreign. She gulped and shuddered. Though the seemingly physical reality of leaving her body hadn’t disturbed her as it was happening, the awake-and-aware knowledge of her disconnected spirit traveling through a dark forest was too bizarre, too frightening to grasp.
    “It’s almost as if I’m being taken in my sleep,” she continued, controlling her tone with great effort. “Not awakened, but pulled straight from my body against my will.” She clasped her hands together in an effort to stop the trembling. “I can’t understand it, so I certainly don’t expect you to. Yet, how do you explain these scratches?”
    His smile appeared strained; his shoulders remained tense. Sophia thought his face insincere and guarded when he looked at her and ignored her question.
    “Gustav Schultz,” he said, “the executor of our grandfather’s estate, was due in late tonight. I can only assume he arrived on time. We’re fortunate his room’s in another wing of the castle. If he’s heard your blood-curdling screams, he’ll probably set us sailing back to London this very hour, no richer than when we arrived.”
    “I doubt that’s going to happen,” she said, still holding out her arms for inspection.
    He regarded her with a skeptical eye. “I imagine these nightmares cause you to thrash around in your sleep. It was probably a quill poking through your mattress. They can be quite sharp. I’m sure it’s frightening, dear girl, but try to control yourself.”
    Sophia bristled at his nasal, patronizing words and derisive tone. She forcibly softened her gaze, straightened her shoulders, and took a deep breath.
    “You’re right, of course.” She fabricated a smile, but Karl seemed too concerned with himself to notice. Though she didn’t agree with anything he’d suggested, she realized arguing about the scratches was useless. The only real concern he’d shown involved his own lack of a full night of uninterrupted sleep.
    He’d changed in the short time she’d known him. On the ship over from England, he seemed, if not brotherly, at least agreeable and cordial. During the trip, they were both excited and a bit apprehensive about their adventure. They took their meals together and had become friends--or so Sophia thought.
    Within hours of their arrival at the castle, however, Karl had begun to act stony and distant...unkind, even. He still ate his meals with her, but had taken on the haughty air of a lord and master, whereas before he’d treated her more as an equal in this endeavor.
    “You’re also correct about the dreams coming only once a night.” She leaned back, wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and turned away from him. “I’ll try to sleep now.”
    “Good. We all need the rest,” he said with noticeable relief. “I’m looking forward to our meeting with Mr. Schultz tomorrow. I hope it’s scheduled early. If your arms don’t look better in the light of day, I’ll have Wilhelm retrieve the physician straight away.”
    Keeping her back to him, she gazed at the small box on her bedside table that held her mother’s  wedding ring. She listened to her cousin’s slippered feet slap against the cold, stone floor as he paced, obviously eager to get back to his own room.
    When Freda returned, Sophia heard Karl leave, pulling the door shut behind him.