The large metal doors opened, revealing a large room with metal slabs all in a row.
Mister Creed led Anna Marie and Pietro towards the slab at the end, a body covered by a sheet, and the medical examiner making notes in his journal.
Upon seeing their arrival, the medical examiner stepped forward, setting his journal down.
"Forgive me, Anna Marie, but there is no one else who can identify the body." He offered before she stepped forward towards the body on the slab, Pietro standing not far behind her.
"Wait!" A voice could be heard entering the morgue, and she felt the gentle but strong hand of Kurt Wagner on her shoulder. "Anna Marie, I came as quick as I heard." His expression was empathetic towards his childhood friend.
"I can give you a positive identification." He told the medical examiner as he stepped closer to the slab.
"I'm afraid that's not possible." The medical examiner replied.
"McCoy, I was his physician-" Kurt starts to argue.
"And I am his lawyer, Doctor Wagner." Victor Creed spoke up. "I'm sorry, this is not a legal formality, it's obligatory I'm afraid."
Pietro watched as Anna Marie walked closer to the slab and slowly pulled back the sheet.
She revealed her father's face, with a sizable hole in his skull above his left eye, clearly showing how he had died.
She felt sick, the sight so gruesome, one that she wished she hadn't seen.
She could hear the men whispering about what had happened, stating he had been at the club when it happened, and that no one had seen anything.
Kurt seemed to be examining the body, and asked the other men to help him turn the body so he could look at something suspicious.
That snapped her out of her haze.
"Don't touch him like that." Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears, so she got louder and pushed them off of him. "Stop! Don't touch him like that, that's my father!"
"Forgive me, Anna Marie, I was-" Kurt tried to apologize.
"He's turning sixty next week." She said through tears as she covered him with the sheet with care. "He's afraid of looking his age. That's why he dresses so well, why he likes taking long walks." She moved to the middle of the slab, where his right arm and hand were not covered by the sheet.
"His hand feels cold." She thought out loud, his hand like ice, stiff. Her father's hands had always been warm and strong, and she would give anything to squeeze his hand again, to have him squeeze back like he always did.
She gently placed his hand under the sheet, and the tears ran down her face as she turned and found Pietro, who had been silent out of respect, standing there with a sorrowful and empathetic look on his face.
He embraced her gently as she cried for her father, murmuring soothing words to her.
"I'm here Anna Marie…."
The funeral was planned, and Anna Marie was beside herself with grief. An investigation was launched into James Darkholme's death, but with no evidence and no witnesses, the case went cold.
Pietro refused to leave her side through the whole ordeal, and when the two of them arrived at the funeral, she was wearing a ruby ring on her finger, symbolizing that Pietro had proposed. He had been hesitant, given the circumstances, but had stated that he wanted to provide for her in every way he could, to give her a home just as he had given her his heart.
They were married quietly, and within days they both got on a train to New York, taking all that she found valuable, making their way across the Atlantic to her new home- Wernigerode Castle.
_
The castle was massive, beautifully designed, and sat atop a hill far above the town below, nestled into the Harz mountains. The carriage brought them through the gates and past several broken down machines on the property. She realized as they drove that these machines were likely for the iron mines, and judging from the rust that had grown on the metal, they had not been used or had broken down quite some time ago.
They soon came around to the massive wooden doors that led inside the castle, and she found herself marveling at the architecture, the beauty of the stone as moss grew on parts of the exterior.
Pietro helped her down off the carriage, and insisted on carrying her across the threshold, as was traditional of husband and wife. When he brought her inside, she could see the interior of the house was both beautiful, grand, and worn down. There was a roaring fire, a grand staircase, pictures of Eisenhardts long gone lining the walls. But the floors were worn, sinking, and there was a massive hole in the high ceiling of the castle, high above them that appeared to have had several attempts at patching, but had been long abandoned.
"How do you manage this entire house, with just you and Wanda?" She asked as she looked around.
"It's a privilege we were born into, one we can never relinquish. But, we manage somehow, my darling." He gestures up the stairs. "My workshop is in the attic….I can't wait to show you." He smiled and made his way up the stairs.
She walked over to a mirror, and unpinned her hat from her hair, her red and white curls neatly styled. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, in the mirror, something that looked like a woman.
She turned around to see who it was, thinking it must be Wanda. After all, who else could it have been?
"Wanda?" She called towards the figure that had disappeared. The house was eerily quiet as she walked towards where she had seen her, or thought she had seen her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, like she was being watched. It was chilling, but she continued on, hoping to follow Wanda.
She came across an elevator lift, the car already being lifted to the top floors, and she watched as it made its way up. She inspected the lift, thinking Wanda surely had gone upstairs.
"Darling?" Pietro came around the corner. "I turned around and thought you were right behind me…" He chuckled.
"Pietro…I saw a woman in the elevator."
"Who? Wanda?"
"No, it wasn't her."
"Must have been a shadow then. That metal contraption has a mind of its own. The wires are connected to the mines below, and sometimes will spark and operate without warning. It's not safe for you to go down there, Anna Marie."
They heard footsteps coming around the corner, and Wanda walked into view, wearing a cape and carrying letters in her hand.
"You've returned." She stated, a bit of relief on her face.
"Wanda…" Pietro embraced his sister, and Anna Marie observed this, the clear bond between them evident in how they embraced each other after so long away from one another.
"Welcome to our home, Anna Marie." Wanda spoke over Pietro's shoulder as she pulled away from her brother, who helped her remove her cape.
"Thank you."
"Your machine parts just came in from Berlin, Pietro. You will need to call on Django to fetch them."
"Excellent." Pietro replied.
The secondary fire nearby was Wanda's destination, a small kitchen not far from where they all stood, a long wooden table in the center of the room.
"Anna Marie, are you alright? You look a bit pale." Wanda commented.
"I'm fine….I just got a little startled, that's all."
"She saw a shadow a moment ago." Pietro supplied.
"Shadows….they're as common around here as creaks and groans. So it would be best to soothe that boundless imagination of yours." Wanda spoke to Anna Marie as she put on a kettle.
"I just need a proper welcome, that's all." She walked closer to Wanda. "I want this to be a house of friendship, love and warmth now that I'm here." She kissed Wanda on the cheek as a sign of friendship, but her new sister seemed surprised by the gesture. She recovered quickly, a small smile.
"Warmth would be a start." Wanda squeezed Anna Marie's hand. "Pietro, your bride is frozen."
"Right of course, forgive me." Pietro led Anna Marie upstairs. "I'll get a fire started and we'll get you a hot bath. I will warn you, the water does run red at first, from the rust, but it will soon run clear."
Once she was a little warmer, she started a bath for herself, turning the handle for the water. She watched and listened as the pipes groaned and shuddered before water came sputtering out of the faucet, red at first, but slowly clearing up to only pure water coming out of it.
Once the water was warm enough and filled the tub to her satisfaction, she climbed in, the wind howling outside the window. She relaxed into the water, and closed her eyes as the warmth enveloped her.
However, as much as she tried to relax, she kept feeling that eerie feeling on the back of her neck, like she was being watched. She opened her eyes and peered over the edge of the tub, seeing a shadow move in the hallway. There was silence, no sign of movement.
She eventually climbed out of the tub, putting on a robe, trying to tell herself that it was her overactive imagination, as Wanda had said.
But there was that chill again. She turned her head, and there was that figure. Shrouded in darkness, but moving away from the door.
She tried to walk towards it, but it was gone as quickly as it came, not wanting to be seen.
Was it the same shadow I saw in the elevator?
Pietro had been kind enough to bring her tea, telling her he would be taking a bath so if she fell asleep, he wouldn't wake her. She was just so tired that she went to bed immediately. When she woke, it was with a start. She turned over in the bed, and Pietro was asleep, looking quite peaceful. It was still dark out, the sun had not risen yet.
She could hear a woman's voice, singing somewhere in the castle.
Wanda?
She got out of bed slowly, so as not to wake Pietro, finding a match to light the candle so she had light to guide her. She ventured out of their shared bedroom and followed the noise, wondering if Wanda's room was nearby.
She soon lost the voice, the singing stopped. She found herself in a hallway with several rooms, all seeming to be bedrooms.
But there was one door that caught her attention, or rather, a set of double doors. It appeared like an office, much like the doors of her father's office at their home in America.
She pushed on one of the handles, and it gave way, her curiosity getting the best of her. It creaked open, and she felt the draft of cold air as the room came into view. The walls were lined with books, cobwebs growing on the shelves. There was a desk in the center of the room, a grand thing that looked like its owner would return any moment, despite the dust and signs of misuse.
She looked up towards the window, and there stood a figure, looking out over the grounds. But this figure was not the woman she saw before.
It was a man.
He had white hair, much like Pietro, that fell long down his back, his stature a little bit taller. He must have heard her, for he turned and she was met with the most piercing stare from a pair of blue eyes, sharper and colder than her husband's. His stern expression softened into shock at the sight of her.
"Magda?"