by Ana Calin
“Magda has incantation power,” Lazarus explains. “That’s what she was imbued with that night. To make the long story short, she can enhance certain talents in people by putting them in a trance and chanting magic formulas from those rituals.”
The room tilts with me again. I blink to get my head steady. “And I thought I’ve seen enough to put up with all kinds of news.”
“Well I hope you can put up with this news,” Magda says, turning to look at me. “I would like to put you in a trance, and enhance the talent that the prince activated in you. We know it has something to do with touching. So your power must be focused in your hands. After I put you in a trance, your subconscious is going to guide me.”
“Why would you want to enhance my talents? This is, in the end, the Hidden World, so I doubt—”
“You’re right,” answers Magda, “I wouldn’t do it for just anybody, and I rarely ever do it at all.” She motions gently towards Lazarus, whom she’s obviously very fond of. “I would do it for him, but I’ve sworn to only ever enhance people when it’s absolutely necessary.” Her voice and gaze deepen. “When it’s a matter of life and death. We never open the treasure trove of the Hidden World otherwise. But I think you’re the only one who can turn the Prince of Midnight from evil to good. I think you can reverse what has been done to him.”
“But what exactly has been done to him? And to his brother, Dracula?”
Magda tilts her head to the side, thinking. “Come with me.”
And she leads us to a dark basement. When she hits the lights, my eyes widen at a bookcase in the form of a circle, full of leather-bound books and parchments. The room smells funny, and Magda is quick to close the door.
“Here’s where I keep the oldest books I inherited from my father. It was quite a struggle to save these jewels from the Tsar’s hands, and it was even harder to keep them away from his successors.” She glances at us with deeper meaning. “Sorry for the odor, but old paper and ink need special conditions.”
She heads to the center of the round bookcase right in front of us, and climbs the ladder to the highest bookshelf, picking up a leather-bound and obviously very old book. It looks medieval.
“This is a selection of ancient rituals that have been copied from different sources,” she says as she returns to us. “Keep in mind, it might be only a copy of a copy. I could try to determine how old the book really is, but that would mean exposing it in some way.”
She hands me the book.
“Careful,” she pleads. Books seem to be her one and only weakness, as if they’re parts of her spiritual body. “It’s very old, you must be extra gentle with it.”
While I open the book with careful fingers, fascination swelling in my chest, she adds, “Turn the pages gingerly. Here.” She puts a finger under the chapter name. “This is the ritual they used on the little Vlad and Radek.”
All it takes is Magda translating the first a few lines for my eyes to widen in horror.
CHAPTER XII
Radek
The guards tremble in front of me in the tower, heads down, weapons hanging from their hands. Victoria keeps spitting ‘incompetents’ and other names at them. The woman can be venomous, even with her lover, Gruia. She thinks I don’t know they’re banging, so she’s particularly vicious to him, but I’ve always known. I just never gave a fuck.
I sit in my throne-like chair, hands in leather gloves gripping the chair arms, my cape flowing to the floor. To them, I surely look majestic, my face as if carved in stone, frightening. Inside, I’m howling in pain and rage. I’ve been deceived and abandoned. For the first time in forever, a woman has made me fall for her, I became addicted to her healing touch. Which she then took away from me, disgusted with the monster she discovered beneath my mask of beauty.
The guards keep blabbering she wasn’t at the bookstore together with Lazarus, that they’ve searched everywhere. But they smell of mead, one of them even came in staggering, and I suspect the old bookseller has certain powers that made them sloppy, too. They haven’t searched half as thoroughly as they should have. I always thought there was something strange about that woman, but I’ve never given it much importance until now.
“Enough,” I tell Victoria in a calm but powerful voice that fills the tower hall. She and the guards look at me, their mouths frozen. I push myself off the throne-like chair, whipping my cape as I turn around to the windowsill and to the autumn clouds gathering in the sky.
I close my eyes and try to sense Juliet. My feelings for her make an easy job of it. I wonder if she can sense me, too. But for that she’d need to return my feelings... I grin bitterly. Which she surely doesn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have left me.
I feel her perfectly. My senses localize her at the bookstore, somewhere in the basement. She thinks she’s escaped my guards. Good.
“Dismissed,” I tell them.
“But, my lord,” Victoria intervenes. I can hear her steps as she approaches me. “You can’t afford to let Juliet Jochs escape from Bran with everything she knows, that would expose you like never before. It would expose all of us, the entire Hidden World. The others before her, they left, but you remained in their heads like a steering device. They wouldn’t be able to tell what they saw and lived here if they wanted to. But Juliet Jochs, she got away before you got to put a seal on her mind.”
“She hasn’t left, Victoria. And she never will.”
The guards murmur in confusion behind me.
“See the borders of the town sealed,” I command the guards. “Do it inconspicuously. Use the civilians we have undercover around town. I’ll have the rows doubled with the Old Priest’s men.” I frown at the clouds. “I’ll contact him about it tonight.”
The guards are happy to leave my presence, they always are. They’re scared to be around me, and I don’t blame them. They scurry off, but I can feel the other servants lingering around, lurking outside the arched exit. This hall doesn’t have a door, which makes eavesdropping easier, and they know there’s material to eavesdrop for, since Victoria stayed.
I feel the pressure of her angry stare on my back. Lately, she’s been acting like she has a word to say, or some sort of claim of me, which is starting to piss me off.
“Are you just going to seal the borders and nothing else?” She presses. “You should send the guards back, surprise the fugitive with her lover tonight, when they don’t expect—”
“Shut your mouth,” I command, low but pointed. I turn to her, my stare making her take a step back. “Remember yourself, Victoria. These decisions are mine to make. I will chase and punish the fugitive as I see fit.”
I stalk by her and leave the tower. But her words keep bouncing in my head. ‘Surprise the fugitive with her lover, tonight.’
Radek
THE AUTUMN NIGHT IS chilly. My dead flesh prefers the cold, it thrives on it. My black heart twitches while I’m watching the bookseller’s house from the shadow of the forest, my eyes fixed on the lit window in the attic. Rage and pain make me grimace under the mask.
But I’m a calculated man. Juliet Jochs will come back to me on her own two feet, begging me to take her back. And then I will make her my slave indeed. I’ll lock her down in the cellar and punish her every night for what she’s done to me.
The light is turned off. I wait for another few hours, still as a piece of stone in the forest. I can see the curtain moving now and then as she peeks outside, which I expected. She must sense the eyes of death on the window to the room she shares with her new lover. My heart twitches painfully, but I can’t get rid of the intrusive thoughts of the two of them; the more I try, the more they flood my mind.
I imagine how it must have been, when Juliet and Lazarus met for the first time. The doors to Arrivals slid open, and she exited dragging her luggage. Lazarus was waiting, Miss Jochs written on a piece of cardboard. Their eyes met, they smiled at each other. Did the air sizzle between them as he drove her here? Did he stop the car to show her the first waterf
all on their way? As they watched and listened, did their fingers brush, did a thrill go through her?
I can’t keep acid tears from swelling in my eyes, melting my flesh away as they flow under the mask. Tears of frustration, of... A new feeling rises inside of me. Is this what loss feels like?
The curtain has been still for a while now. I enter the house the way I always enter houses—like a ghost. People can never sense me. In the end, I fought countless wars. Stealth and assassination are second nature to me.
For six hundred years I thought I was prepared for everything, but nothing could have prepared me for the feeling I have when I stand in front of their door. Hell, I almost wish I’d had my heart broken before, so I could cope with the fearful anticipation.
I push the door, very slowly, to avoid being heard. The process is painful, having to wait until the two lovers are exposed to me, waiting for the sight of them to tear into me like the fangs of a pit-bull.
When my eyes finally discover Juliet lying on the bed, I grit my teeth. I approach slowly, my eyes glued to her. Her chest rises and falls slowly, so she’s definitely alive, but she’s lying on the bed like in a coffin—her small white hands together on her chest, her white-blond curls spread like a fan over the pillow, her face white, and her lips, usually rosy, just as white. There are dark circles under her eyes. Finally, I realize—she isn’t all right. Something drained her.
A snort in the corner draws my attention. So taken with Juliet, I even forgot to look for her supposed lover, Lazarus. I find him crouched on a small mattress by the heater like a dog. He’s probably been watching over her.
My fingers graze over the duvet, my eyes on this pale sleeping beauty. If she only knew how close the angel of death is to her.
Wondering what happened to put her in this state, I take her hand. My skin prickles, and when I look down I can barely keep the hiss in my throat.
As if through magic, my hand has fully transformed into the ivory hand of Prince Radek, the skin repairing itself like tide moving from my fingers toward my wrist. I look at my hand in the air. The effect is much stronger than at the castle, and it seems to stay. The hand doesn’t give any signs it would bubble up into a coral-like shape anytime soon.
I look at Juliet again. She’s certainly been through something that drained her of energy, and that stabilized her power of healing me. On the inside, I’m inflamed with the need to wake her up, talk to her, demand answers. Fuck, I’m just an idiot.
What am I expecting to hear, that she loves me even though she left me? She and Lazarus must be lovers; he’s just sleeping separately because of her having a rough time, feeling drained and sick. I refrain from looking at him because, if I do, I know I’ll tear him apart.
I gaze at her long, pain tugging at my heart. I have to rip myself away from her, and stop looking for reasons to believe she returns my wild feelings. She ran away from me. With him. But I’ll get her back, even against her will.
Stroking her pretty face and her fairy-like hair one last time with the back of my fingers, I leave the bait under her hair on the pillow. She’ll see it soon after she wakes up. And then, panicking, she’ll find the quickest way back to me.
Juliet
I PUSH BY LAZARUS TOWARDS the door, the pink slip of paper between my fingers. Lazarus grabs my shoulder and turns me around.
“You’re not going to the castle,” he commands. “I’ll keep you here by force if I have to.” I try to struggle away from him, but his big and bony hands are clamped on my arms.
“I have to, he knows I’ve been communicating with my sister,” I blurt, looking desperately at Magda. She isn’t any help, standing in the living room, blocking my way to the exit.
“He surely got his hands on her,” I press when neither she nor Lazarus budge. “What if he brought her to his castle, what if he’s using her the same way he used me?” That last idea cuts like a two-sided blade through my heart. The man I’m in love with, having his way with my sister. In a surge of despair, I try to rip myself from Lazarus’ hold again, but in vain.
“That’s what he wants you to believe, that’s why he put that slip of paper on your pillow.”
“But Isolde wrote that she was coming for me! He knows I’ve been telling her things, he’ll take away her freedom, lock her up with all the others!”
“All the others?”
The tears freeze in my throat. For a moment I’m not sure of what I’m doing, but then I realize this is the only way to get these two on my side. I decide to spill the beans.
“The other women Radek has had before me. He used them until they were drained of youth and vital energy, turned into living corpses. He now keeps them locked in a dungeon deep inside the mountain.”
Magda and Lazarus look at each other. Lazarus’ grip on me softens for a moment, and I rip myself away and run towards the door. Magda just watches me rush by her, but as I reach to the door handle, the heavy wooden latch falls into the lock of its own accord. In my despair I forgot the witch doesn’t need her hands to move stuff around.
“Fuck!” I grip to the latch in frustration, struggling to lift it, but it’s way too heavy.
“He keeps those poor women prisoners?” Lazarus asks with a frown on his brow. “And you haven’t told us anything?”
“I was afraid you’d get hot-headed and confront Radek about it. And there isn’t anything you can do, he’s a powerful monster with guards and minions, while you....” I motion to the two people staring at me with reproof in their eyes. “It’s just the two of you. But I can save Isolde before all that’s left of her is a dried out shell!”
“He’s not going to dry her out, because he wants to use her as bargaining material,” Magda says calmly. “He’s using her to make you return to him.”
I’ve come to trust Magda’s judgment over anyone else’s in the world. When I woke up from the trance she put me in order to unlock my hidden skill, I felt weak like never before physically, but mentally I felt like a powerhouse. It felt like I had new software installed on an obsolete device. Magda said I’d get used to it, and my body would catch up in time.
She and Lazarus join each other across from me, Magda small and silver-haired, Lazarus like her young, tall bodyguard. The latch makes a sound behind me, and I glance back to see that Magda has lifted it.
“You want to go to the prince?” She gestures towards the door. “You’re free to do it. But know that you’re making a wrong move, a fatal one. Even if your sister were silly enough to decide to come here and take on a prince of darkness on her own, she would still need time to book a flight, get ready. But I don’t think she’s as stupid as to try that without getting some kind of back-up first. I agree that her back-up, be it police or some other kind of security, wouldn’t have anything on the prince, he’d finish them with a wave of his hand, locking them in a different dimension, or simply removing his mask at midnight. But still, she’d need time to set all that up.”
“What Magda is saying,” Lazarus picks up, “is that Isolde cannot be at the prince’s castle right now. He is only baiting you. We have time to think this through.”
“We’re not saying you should stay away from the prince forever,” Magda says. “I unlocked your skill for a reason. But we need to plan this well.”
I let their words sink in. They just stand across the room, Lazarus behind Magda, watching me.
I take a deep breath. “What is your plan?”
Juliet
I STAND ON MAGDA’S porch, leaning on the wooden railing with a mug of mulled wine between my hands, watching the castle in the moonlit night. Its towers rise like spires from the rock, snow glowing in the moonlight. I can hear Lazarus’ steps behind me.
“It was the right decision,” he says. “Waiting until the Christmas festival. Just a few more days.”
“This month’s wait felt like forever.” I brace myself, gathering Lazarus’ oversized jacket around me. It’s already December, and the temperature has dropped drastically. “I w
onder why he never came for me in all this time, when I didn’t go to him,” I whisper. “Maybe Isolde is in his power already.” Tears of anxiety lurk behind my words. Sick jealousy also rears its ugly head, but I do my best to choke it down. That should be the least of my worries.
Lazarus walks closer, and places his big hands on my shoulders.
“He’s sealed the town borders, he knows you’re not getting away. He’s old, he knows how to wait. Regarding Isolde....” He pauses, and my body tenses. He doesn’t know what to say, I can tell.
“What if he hurts her just to get back at me?” I can barely keep the panic out of my tone.
His hands apply a reassuring pressure to my shoulders. “Even if that happened, there’s nothing you could have done before the Christmas festival. During the festival we can get inside the castle using masks and costumes, and Magda can search for Isolde and save her while you and I distract Radek. Trust me, we’ll save her before he does to her what he did to those other women.”
I glance over my shoulder, starting to realize—or rather accept—what I’ve done wrong.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you guys about those women. But, believe me, I only kept it to myself because I feared your temper. I feared you’d confront him. And, no offense, but you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Lazarus snorts. “Trust me, I’m well aware of that. A whole army wouldn’t be enough to defeat him. You don’t even begin to imagine the sorts of monsters that serve as his minions.”
I glance back at him. “What monsters?”
“How do I explain this? For example, Dracula has lesser vampires, everyone who knows the legend knows he creates them. In the same vein, Radek has lesser versions of himself.” He looks in the distance, pondering. “Maybe he even keeps those women to create a new kind of army.”