"You should not be out of bed at this hour, Anna Marie." Max spoke matter-of-factly.
She placed a hand over her sternum to calm her racing heart. "I'm sorry….you startled me….I was….looking for Pietro."
That caused his head to tilt. "This is the second night that I have found you out of bed, with my son nowhere in sight. This displeases me greatly." He extended his hand to her, the ethereal glow to his body the only indication that he was a ghost, and not actually alive. "Come."
She was curious about this man, this ghost of her husband's father. She slipped her delicate fingers into his waiting palm, able to feel something, even if it was not real flesh. A barrier, a resistance of some kind. It was neither cold nor warm, a somewhat strange sensation. He guided her back up the stairs, to the bedroom she occupied. She could see the hand of his ghostly form firmly holding hers, the sensation of her hand being held so strange in comparison to how it felt normally, when held by a living person.
He opened the door, and ushered her gently inside. Conscious of his presence, she quickly shed her dressing gown and climbed into her bed, watching as he proceeded to, for the second night since she had arrived, bring the fire to life.
The flames rekindled, he arose from his spot in front of the fire, and as he began to turn towards the door, she called out to him.
"Wait."
He stopped, and turned slightly towards her.
"Yes?"

"How….how did you know I was down there?"

There was a slight twitch to his mouth, almost as if he found the question a little amusing.

"The lift is quite loud when it moves, Anna Marie. Even the dead can hear it."

She felt a flush of embarrassment as she realized how silly her question was.

"It was not my intention to disturb you, Freiherr."

"You did not. Now rest." His tone was gentler, watching as she did as he instructed, slipping back under the covers and closing her eyes.

In the morning, she woke as the sun rose, the remaining embers of the fire from the night before barely glowing in the hearth.

Her thoughts were conflicted, trying to make sense of all that had happened since she had come to live here. Her husband, though a sweet man, was nowhere to be found at night, and instead, she was greeted by the ghost of his father, who, despite Wanda's testimony to the contrary, was quite lucid and respectful to her. His concern was more for her comfort rather than his son's absence.
In comparison, the other ghost she had encountered seemed desperate and anguished, unable to form words. The red color of the skeleton seemed to indicate that something had happened to them when they were living, something violent, that caused their death.
She resolved to find out more, and dressed herself for the day, going in search of her husband.
Donning her coat over her dress, she found Pietro outside with Django and two other men, working on the machine that was currently mining for the iron on the property.
"Pietro?" She called out to him as she got closer.
He popped his head up as she came in view, and he climbed down from the machine.
"Pietro, ah need to talk to you…"
"I'm afraid now is not a good time, Anna Marie. If you need something, I'm sure Wanda-"
"Ah don't want to talk to Wanda. Ah want to talk to you." She firmly but gently stated.
He took a deep breath, realizing that she would not be turned away. He nodded. "Very well."
"Have there been many deaths in this house? Violent deaths I mean. Ah've been seein' ghosts-"
"Now is really not the time for this, Anna Marie." One of the men shouted, a problem with the machine that needed Pietro's attention, and he turned to help, and she watched as he attempted to correct the problem, only to be blasted by hot steam. He cried out in pain, clutching his hand.
She had taken him to the kitchen, to have his wounds looked at, and to dress his hand. She finished wrapping it and gently squeezed his fingers.
"There. It'll feel better soon."
His eyes were on the bandages. "My hands are getting rough. Your father would approve."
She smiled a little, and moved away from him to put away the medicine and bandaging.
"The machine will never work. I don't know why I keep fooling myself." He remarked as her back was turned. "Why did I bring you here…..you married a failure."
She turned back towards him. "Don't say that. You're all ah have." She gave him a sympathetic, warm smile, and began unrolling his sleeves now that she was done tending to his wounds.
"The men will be leaving at nightfall. It will be a race against the snow coming. Once that happens, we won't be able to make any progress. That's the downside of the Iron Heart."
That phrase made her stop. She blinked and looked up at him. "What did you say?"
"Iron Heart. That's what this place is called. When the snow comes, the iron in the ores turns the snow red from the oxidation. It makes mining impossible until it melts."
He begins to walk out of the kitchen, and Anna Marie is reminded of the last time she saw her mother's ghost, and her warning.
Beware of the Iron Heart….
Dr Kurt Wagner stood in the cemetery in Buffalo, at James Darkholme's headstone, as the church bells rang at the top of the hour.
"You asked to see me?" A voice called from behind him, and he turned to find Victor Creed standing there, his cane in hand.
"I did." Kurt acknowledged.
"You're still concerned about how things turned out."
"It's all so peculiar, Mr Creed. The manner of Mister Darkholme's death, the sizable wound on his head. I found his checkbook, Creed."
Creed tilted his head in response.
"The last check he wrote was to Sir Pietro Eisenhardt."
Creed's face seemed to go grim. "There's something you should know."
"Tell me."
"Before James died, he had Neena Thurman do some digging on the Eisenhardts."
Kurt's eyes widened. "Nathan Grey's wife?"
"The very same. I'm not sure what she found, James wouldn't say. I would advise you to speak to her, and see if it's anything of great concern."
Kurt nodded. "I'll pay her a visit."