Low light seeped into the kitchen from the window near the door. But it was more than adequate for Marion’s night-adjusted eyes to see. She skirted past an old wooden table covered with pans and boxes and bags, and tiptoed over to the doorway that led out into the dining hall. There was no actual door, just a flower-print drape covering the opening. At serving time, it would be moved out of the way and held in place by a hook mounted on the wall.

Marion pulled the curtain back just enough to peer into the other room. The dining hall was also unlit, but like the kitchen, there was more than enough illumination shining through the windows from outside. The tables were empty, and the ragtag group of chairs and benches were all neatly in place. Everything ready and waiting for the morning meal.

Marion pushed the curtain out a little so she could look to her right toward the front of the building, and immediately caught her breath. There was someone standing against the wall only a few feet away. Her first instinct was to let go of the drape and escape out the back door into the night. But she didn’t move. Frau Roslyn’s words from her rushed call earlier came back to Marion.

“They’re coming back,” the old woman had said.

The call had woken Marion. “Who?” she’d asked, trying to focus.

“It’s them. The ones we talked about. They’re making the rounds again,” Frau Roslyn said. “I just got the call. They’ll be here soon, I’m sure of it.”

“You’ve nothing to worry about. Last time they only stayed a few minutes and then they were gone.”

“We didn’t have what they were looking for last time.”

It took a second for Marion to realize what Frau Roslyn was saying. When she did, she could feel the blood drain from her face. “Iris.”