The Cross. Scott G. Mariani

at this place,’ Lindsey said, gazing around her. ‘Just look at it. Pisses all over St Moritz, I can tell you.’

      ‘I’m sure you can,’ Chloe said. It was all part of Lindsey’s routine to take every possible opportunity to remind everyone around her that she came from a moneyed family and was, as a result, terribly familiar with all the in places. Chloe had stopped minding too much. Besides, having a rich college friend had its perks. Whether he even knew it or not, it was Lindsey’s gazillionaire daddy who footed the rent for the luxury apartment the three of them shared. It beat living in cramped, dingy student digs. Being able to jet off for impromptu skiing vacations wasn’t so terrible either.

      ‘Hey, look,’ Rebecca said, pointing upwards and shielding her eyes from the sun. Chloe turned to follow the line of her gloved finger through the pines. Funny – she hadn’t noticed it before. Perched high up on a mountain crag above them, silhouetted against the blue sky, were the towers of an old castle. The snow lay thickly on the dark stone of its battlements.

      ‘How old do you think it must be?’ Rebecca said.

      ‘Medieval times, I guess,’ Chloe said. ‘Maybe older. Wow.’

      ‘You Yanks,’ Lindsey snorted at her. ‘Anything that’s dated more than fifty years, you go all gooey about it.’

      ‘We do have a little more history than that,’ Chloe said.

      ‘Huh.’

      Rebecca made a face as she stared up at the castle. ‘Makes me feel a bit shivery. Think anyone’s up there, watching us?’

      Lindsey laughed. ‘Give us a break. It’s just an old ruin.’

      ‘I don’t get such a good feeling about this place,’ Rebecca said. ‘I think something really bad happened here.’

      ‘It’s a castle, Beck. They used to have, like, wars and things. I’m sure a lot of pretty nasty shit happened here, a long, long time ago. That’s why they call it history. As in, dead and gone? Come on, guys. I’m freezing my arse off standing here.’

      Chloe stabbed her ski sticks in the snow and unzipped her backpack to take out her map. ‘That’s strange,’ she said, studying it. ‘The castle’s not here.’

      Lindsey snatched the map out of Chloe’s fingers and gave it a cursory glance. ‘Guess you’re right. It isn’t. Or else we’ve taken a totally wrong turn somewhere.’

      Chloe shook her head. ‘I know exactly where we are.’

      ‘And I know exactly where I want to be,’ Lindsey said. ‘Somewhere else.’

      ‘I agree,’ Rebecca said. ‘Let’s move on. I don’t like it here.’

      They skied on down the valley, leaving sinuous, intertwined trails behind them on the bright virgin snow. Chloe was the best skier and could have left the others far behind, but she hung back to keep a watch on the less experienced Rebecca. The valley skirted the base of the mountain, sloping steeply away from its rocky foot. The trees were thicker here, and the going was trickier. Chloe was slicing through the powder snow when Rebecca, fifteen yards ahead, gave a muffled yell and took a sudden tumble. With a big spray of snow she rolled flailing down the slope, toppled over a bluff, and disappeared from sight.

      ‘Rebecca!’ Chloe yelled, racing after her. There was no reply. She glanced back over her shoulder. Lindsey was a long way behind, taking it easy over the terrain, and didn’t seem to have noticed anything was wrong. Chloe made it to the edge of the bluff. Her heart was hammering and she was thinking about the long-range walkie-talkie in her backpack that she could use to call out the mountain rescue helicopter in an emergency. Her mind raced. Would they be able to find them? Would they make it out here while it was still daylight?

      ‘Rebecca! Talk to me!’ Chloe yelled as she tore at the quick-release mechanism of her ski boots, kicked the skis away and scrambled to the edge of the bluff.

      She sagged with relief at the sound of Rebecca’s voice calling up to her. Peering down, she saw her friend sprawled ten yards below, near a trickling stream that had melted a stony path through the snow. She’d narrowly avoided hitting a jutting outcrop of rocks at the base of the mountain. Her left ski had become detached and was sticking out of the snow halfway down the slope.

      ‘I’m fine,’ Rebecca called, struggling to her feet as Chloe scrambled down towards her. ‘Must have snagged a root or something.’ Putting weight on her left leg, she made a face and her knee seemed to give way under her. ‘Ouch. Shit. My knee.’

      ‘Sit on that rock and let me take a look.’

      ‘Glad one of us has done all the first-aid courses,’ Rebecca muttered as Chloe checked her over. The knee was grazed, but not swollen.

      ‘That hurt?’ Chloe asked, supporting Rebecca’s ankle and gently flexing the leg.

      ‘No . . . ow. Yes, a little.’

      ‘You’ll have a bruise like a rainbow,’ Chloe told her, ‘but I think you’ll be okay. Could have been a lot worse.’

      ‘I’m frozen,’ Rebecca muttered, hugging her sides.

      ‘Want some hot coffee? I think I have a bit left.’

      ‘You’re a lifesaver.’

      Chloe fished the Thermos flask from her backpack, unscrewed the cap and poured out a steaming cupful. As she leant across to hand it to Rebecca, she knelt on something sharp and looked down to see what it was.

      ‘That’s a funny-looking thing,’ she said, picking up the small, jagged object that had jabbed her leg. It wasn’t anything like the other pebbles and small rocks scattered around the stream bed.

      ‘What is it?’ asked Rebecca through a mouthful of hot coffee.

      Chloe showed her. ‘Looks like a piece of something.’

      ‘Pottery?’

      ‘More like a stone carving.’ Chloe turned the fragment over in her hands. It was the size of a walnut, made of some kind of pale, glittering rock. The faded markings on it looked like writing, but the language was one she’d never seen before.

      ‘Here’s another piece,’ Rebecca said, reaching down between her feet and picking it up. ‘It’s got the same carvings on it. What do you suppose they mean?’

      ‘No idea. My dad would probably know.’

      ‘He’s a historian, isn’t he?’

      ‘Museum curator,’ Chloe said. ‘Lives in Oxford now. You know what, I think I’m going to take these back to show him.’ There were more pieces strewn across the stream bed, and yet more in the snow. She started gathering them up. ‘Whatever this was, it must have got smashed on those big rocks. The bits are scattered all around here.’

      Rebecca studied the fragment she’d found. ‘They kind of look like ancient runes to me.’

      Chloe found another, larger fragment in the snow. She dusted it off. Her little pile was growing quickly. ‘Runes?’

      ‘You know, ancient script. Spells. Maybe like some kind of talisman for warding off evil spirits.’

      ‘Oh, come on. You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?’

      Rebecca shrugged. She pointed upwards at the looming mountain above them. ‘You think maybe it fell from up there?’

      Chloe looked up. Far above in the distance, she could just about make out the tips of the castle battlements.

      ‘Something seriously creepy about that place,’ Rebecca said darkly. ‘Maybe that’s what the talisman was put here for.’

      ‘You don’t know it’s a talisman,’ Chloe said.

      ‘It’s something, though, isn’t it? And what was it doing here?’

      ‘So