The museum rooms were just about deserted. Sundays were not exactly bustling, outside of the cafe downstairs. Mr Luzlic led them through the dimly-lit rooms to a collection of low display cases, mostly containing antique books and papers. He crossed to one in the corner.
"There is it," he said, tapping gently on the glass.
Elle and David leaned over it. In the centre of the case was a small brown book, its pages crumbling almost to dust at their edges. In thin gilt letters on its cover, worn away almost to nothing with time, were the words Folk Tales for Children.
"Shouldn't you send it off somewhere, if it's so valuable?" David asked.
Elle shot David a quick, hard look. She was getting the feeling he kept picking at Mr Luzlic, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying to them. That wasn't exactly what she needed. Mr Luzlic, after all, was the only person in the world who might actually know something that could help her.
"I've made some enquiries," Mr Luzlic replied, fumbling with his glasses. "I have sent off pictures to some highly esteemed colleagues of mine who happen to be experts in the field. I don't expect to get a response."
"Oh? Why not? You think it might be a forgery or something?"
"No, no, nothing like that. It's as I was saying to you before - there is a dark sort of magic here in Farway. The ripples of it spread outward through the town in everything that happens here. The outside world... well, it has a habit of forgetting about Farway. Of ignoring it. Things that happen here don't get noticed or remembered - because they're not supposed to be. That much is true for most of the people in the town, too. The little girl that disappeared on Friday night, for example. There's been hardly any news about that, save for a short piece on the local radio. Can you imagine what would be happening if that had happened in any other town in the whole country? The county's police forces would be deployed - half the town would be out forming search parties - there would be candlelight vigils and prayer circles meeting among every religious group of every denomination. But that's not happening - and why not? Because it happened in Farway, that's why. Everyone here finds it just a little too easy to ignore these sorts of things, as if they just... vanish from their heads."
Elle gave a convulsive shudder.
"But that's... horrible," she said.
Mr Luzlic only nodded solemnly in return.
David's eye went slowly over to a sheet of grey parchment lying just beside the book inside the case. It was covered over in long spindly handwriting, all of it barely legible. Parts of it looked like they weren't letters at all, or at least not English letters. Elle remembered Mr Luzlic saying at least part of it was written in runes.
"That's the parchment you've been decoding, I suppose," David said.
"That's right. I found it slipped between the pages when I first started investigating that book."
"And how much of it have you managed to decode?" Elle asked.
Mr Luzlic looked down at some papers that he'd brought with him from the drawer of his desk. He smoothed them out on top of the glass.
"As I said, I haven't been able to unpick all of it," he said. "And parts of what I have uncovered are very vague. But it seems to predict a series of events happening here in Farway, over a period of seven days. One event each day, each one happening to a different person from the town."
"And does it say when these events will happen?" David asked.
"Not in any specific terms. There are no references to exact dates or years. But it does say when it will end -" Mr Luzlic consulted his notes, "- When the blood moon stands high over midsummer night."
"Midsummer night? That's this week, isn't it?"
"Thursday," Mr Luzlic said, nodding sagely. "And as it happens, this Thursday is also scheduled to be a blood moon."
Elle gasped. Here it was: the proof she needed that what was written on this parchment was somehow linked up to what she was seeing. Because if it said that there would be seven days of events leading up to the blood moon, that would mean it all started on the Friday before - the day Marigold Loxley disappeared.
"And what does it say will happen?" Elle said.
"That is, perhaps, the vaguest part of all," Mr Luzlic said. "But from what I can gather it is specifically referencing the book in which I found it. Here's a part I've managed to decipher: By dark divinity shall the tales herein told be made mortal, and breathed to life what once was ink and paper - and 'cross all Farway will be made alive what 'fore was thought imagined."
David was frowning perplexedly, but Elle said suddenly:
"I think I understand what it means."
They both stared at her, and, in spite of feeling herself physically flushing, she said, "It means the stories in that book are going to come to life. Don't you think? 'Cross all Farway will be made alive what 'fore was thought imagined. It means that the magic of Farway will bring these fairy tales to life - one each day, for the seven days leading up to Thursday."
David was doing his best to keep a look off his face that would have told Elle she sounded crazy, but to her amazement Mr Luzlic was looking at her with a mixture of satisfaction and admiration.
"That's just what I thought, too," he said. "Which is rather borne out by what has happened, don't you think?"
"I don't see how what Elle saw the last two nights has anything to do with a load of fairy stories," David argued. "I mean, they're just stories."
"Stories have power in them," Mr Luzlic replied darkly. "Particularly fairy stories. These tales, handed down for years and years, copied and amended and edited and added to in every culture and language where they are retold - they have a dark and powerful magic all of their own. That, coupled with the dark magic underlying here in Farway, is what is bringing them to life."
Elle fell into a few moments of deep thought.
"I understand all that, Mr Luzlic. But what happened the past two nights - that had nothing to do with fairy tales," she said.
"Are you sure about that, Elle?" He had an almost challenging look in his eyes. "Think about it. Think about what I told you on Friday. Look for the symbols."
Elle's mind went back to Marigold, and what happened to her on Meadow Lane. It didn't seem, on the face of it, like any fairy tale Elle remembered reading. It seemed more like something out of a horror film. But then that was exactly, word for word, what Mr Luzlic had said to them during his talk.
So she didn't think about what had actually happened. Instead she did what Mr Luzlic told her to do. She looked for the symbols.
A little girl, sneaking into a dark, empty house. And inside that house she was attacked by a bear.
Realisation hit her like a speeding train. Her mouth opened and she said, almost without meaning to:
"Goldilocks."
A smile spread over Mr Luzlic's face.
"The girl on Meadow Lane? Yes, I did wonder, when I heard about it on the radio. Her name, you see, seemed significant." When they both looked confused he added, "Marigold Loxley - that was her name. Marigold Loxley. Gold Lox. It seemed too great a coincidence to me."
Elle hadn't even considered that. She said, "Can that be a sort of clue, then? The people's names?"
"Yes, I believe so. Anything can be significant - the magic might be drawn out of the stories in any number of strange and unexpected ways. Why? What other symbols did you see?"
Already all manner of other things were coming back to her about that dream on Friday night: three bowls on a draining board, a broken chair toppled over on the floor. All of it seemed so insignificant and natural at the time, but now it all seemed staged and obvious.
And when she'd woken up, she'd tasted porridge in her mouth. The thought of it now made her want to be sick.
"There was one fairly major one," she said. "In my dream the girl was attacked by a bear."
Mr Luzlic said, "You're right, that does seem rather obvious. What about the other girl - the one you saw last night?"
"Letty Gardener? That one I don't see at all. I mean, now I think about it it seems more like something out of a fairy tale, but I just couldn't tell you which one. She was pulled out of her bedroom window by a sort of hag or a witch or something."
"Pulled out of her bedroom window?"
"Yes, she was lying back in bed with her hair hanging over the windowsill, and this thing came up outside and pulled her out by the hair."
Mr Luzlic looked momentarily revolted, then mulled this new information over in his mind.
"By her hair? This girl - you say her name is Letty?"
"That's right."
"Is that short for anything - Letitia, maybe?"
"Actually it's short for 'Lettice.' She used to go mad at school if anyone pronounced it 'Lettuce.' People used to tease her about it."
Mr Luzlic gave her a strange smile.
"Do either of you know what 'rampion' is?" They both shook their heads. "It's a vegetable, similar to lettuce. In German it's called rapunzel."
Rapunzel. The hair... the hag... the window in the tower...
Goldilocks. Rapunzel. It all tied up.
So there it all was. All day Friday when she had felt that something big was going to happen: now she knew just what it was. She'd never have guessed it in a million years.
But one thing still stuck out in her mind. One burning question she'd been desperate to ask from the second this all began.
"But why me?" she blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. "Why am I seeing these awful things every time they happen?"
Mr Luzlic chewed his lip nervously. He looked back at his notes.
"There is another part of the manuscript I have managed to decipher. The prophecy states that there will be someone in town who can act as - well, the wording is rather vague, it might either mean guard or saviour. One person among everyone in town will be able to see the magic taking its course, and be able to take action to stop it. A person, it says, neither child nor grown - hence, I surmised, a teenager."
"And that's why I gave that talk at our school," David said. "To try and find this person who would be able to see the magic."
"That's right. I had no idea who it was, you see, so I gave that talk as a means to spread the message to as many of you as I possibly could. To warn whoever it was about how the magic would manifest itself, and to have them try and be on the lookout for the symbols that would point them in the right directions."
"But I can't do any of that!" Elle suddenly shrieked out, her voice echoing off through the empty museum. "I haven't been able to read the signs or spot the symbols or whatever the hell it is I'm meant to do. All I've done so far is have two nightmares about people being killed -"
"Not killed," Mr Luzlic put in swiftly. "I have reason to believe from what I have read here that neither of the girls you have seen are dead. They have been taken, yes. Disappeared. But there is nothing to suggest they have even been hurt, nor that you won't be able to find a way to bring them back. You are the saviour, after all."
"But I'm not! I'm not any kind of saviour! I'm just - I'm just me."
That was about as much explanation as Elle could give. She assumed it would be enough, but Mr Luzlic slowly shook his head.
"You're more than you think you are, Elle. Now that you know what you're looking for you'll become much better at seeing the signs and symbols before anything happens. You can pre-empt the events that are going to come next, and you can stop them. You can save these people, Elle. I'm sure you can."
Elle didn't answer. In her mind she was weighing up the colossal task she had in front of her.
Five more days. Five more victims. No idea of knowing who or where or what they were going to be.
She wished she had as much confidence in herself as Mr Luzlic did.