Vengeful Vampire at Wonky Inn: Wonky Inn Book 8

by Jeannie Wycherley

  I kept half an ear on the Ambassador’s conversation while watching several vampires dance on the floor below us, entertaining their own kind in front of dining tables which groaned with the weight of food that probably none of them would eat. Some of the more glamorous beings danced along to the orchestra with the sincerity expected of the period—graceful and elegant—while others, evidently turned into vampires much more recently, hammed it up. Men danced with women, women with women, men with men. It seemed that here at Castle Iadului anything went. I didn’t object to this at all. But I couldn’t help fearing that the night could lead to a descent into hedonism I wanted no part of, and from which it might be difficult to extract myself in one piece.

  The soup, as with the previous evening, was perfectly edible. I wasn’t sure what flavour it was, but it warmed my insides and eased my hunger pangs. If I didn’t lean into the prince or inhale, I could eat without too much nausea.

  Wine was poured into our goblets, Count Yorovski waved the decanter at me every few minutes and I politely declined, merely sipping at mine. I wanted to keep all my faculties about me. The Ambassador laughed at a joke someone—perhaps even Prince Grigor—had made. I turned my attention back to them, understanding the necessity of appearing eager and interested.

  Isn’t that what diplomacy is all about, after all?

  “This is a splendid feast you have treated us to. We cannot thank you enough. You really must consider visiting us in London, your Grace,” the ambassador was saying in his most conniving and sycophantic tone. “Mother Neamh would be delighted to receive you and I can assure you of the warmest and most magickal of welcomes.”

  The prince moved his lips into what might have been a smile.

  “We would treat you to a full range of delights, as well as showing you the all the sights that London has to offer,” the Ambassador chirruped on. Even I found him annoying and we were both on the same side. “Have you ever been to London, your Grace?”

  “Several times. Long ago,” Prince Grigor rasped. “And elsewhere in the British Isles since then.”

  I looked sideways at him, pondering.

  He caught me looking and leered, shifting in his seat so that he could breathe into my face. “Such an enquiring mind you have, Miss Daemonne. Are you curious as to where I have visited?”

  “I was wondering when you were in London,” I replied, forcing a bright smile. “The capital has changed so much over the years.”

  “This I have heard although I have not seen for myself. The last time I was there, Queen Victoria sat on her throne. I courted one of her daughters.”

  I couldn’t hide my shock. He’d had the audacity to date one of the royal princesses? No wonder Colonel Peters had been dispatched to Transylvania. Imagine the scandal if a royal princess had been turned into a vampire.

  Prince Grigor threw his head back and laughed, phlegm or something equally hideous, gurgling in his throat. “Bless you, child.” Prince Grigor reached out with a dry bony hand to pat my arm. “If you only knew the half of it.”

  As badly as I wanted to extricate my arm from beneath his vile touch I held myself very still and nodded as if bowled over by his words. Fortuitously, we were interrupted by the arrival of the main course. A boar’s head.

  Each.

  Served on a wooden platter. With an apple in its mouth and a side of red cabbage.

  I prodded the head with my fork. Count Yurovski handed me a sharp knife with a wooden handle. “You’ll need this,” he said. “Remove the skull and you’ll find the brain underneath.”

  I groaned quietly, but smiled my thanks at him, momentarily considering plunging the knife in his eye, but in a room full of vampires, the last thing you want to do is strike the first blow. Especially when you’re supposed to be making nice with them.

  “I’m not really that hungry,” I lied, and forked a spoonful of red cabbage into my mouth instead.

  That, at least, was delicious.

  “I think that went rather well, don’t you?” Ambassador Rubenscarfe paused at the top of the grand staircase before being led to his own chamber.

  “I certainly hope so,” I replied. I couldn’t tell whether it had, or it hadn’t. While I’d been sitting at the long table on the dais taking in the dancers below, my witchy senses had noted the undercurrents of emotions; quietly uttered conversations, secretive looks and muttered oaths. All things that had eluded me yet evidently veiled certain sinister intentions. “We are still effectively prisoners here after all.” I gestured at the eavesdropping Nadia who stood close by, and the hooded security guards, their faces hidden from view. “I think we should still be watchful.”

  The Ambassador nodded. “Nevertheless, I’m sure I can report to Mother Neamh that tensions have eased a little now that Prince Grigor has had the chance to make your acquaintance.”

  “Do you think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow?” I couldn’t help the note of yearning. Castle Iadului completely unnerved me and I wanted to go home. To my inn. To Speckled Wood. To my friends and Mr Hoo.

  “We’ll have one more audience with the prince tomorrow evening and then yes, I should think we can wrap things up to everyone’s satisfaction.” Ambassador Rubenscarfe nodded, obviously pleased with himself.

  I bid him goodnight and allowed myself to be led to the left, the long corridor and the winding stone staircase by my silent guard. I climbed the steps wearily, imagining how the party was unravelling in the Great Hall downstairs. Archibald had been right after all. Tonight I’d be grateful for all the locks on my door.

  My hooded guard pushed open the door, stepped back and let me through. Once I was inside he backed away, closed the door and locked it. I stepped further inside. The room was exactly as I’d left it.

  Almost.

  There was a tray on the table. Not the breakfast tray but a lunch tray.

  The old peasant woman had been in my room to take away the breakfast tray and replace it with a lunch tray.

  While I’d been out of the room earlier today.

  I hadn’t had time to notice when I’d come back from my foray around the castle, and because Archibald had been with me, he hadn’t alerted me to the visit either.

  Presumably she hadn’t been back with a supper tray because she knew I’d be at the banquet this evening.

  My stomach lurched. Unless she had assumed I was in the bathroom she had to know I hadn’t been in the room when I should have been. And because one of the shadow guards always accompanied her, he knew that too.

  Surely they’d have reported it?

  “Is everything alright, Madam?” Colonel Peters apparated next to me. “You seem a little shaken.”

  “It hasn’t been the most pleasant of evenings,” I told him, eyeing the tray with trepidation. “The Prince—” I grimaced.

  “Ah yes, Madam. Not a pleasant creature.”

  I shook my head. “Why do all the rest of the vampires look so gorgeous and glamorous and he looks like…” I struggled to come up with a parallel.

  “Something a cat chewed up?” suggested the Colonel.

  “Worse.” I pulled a face.

  “I believe it’s because somewhere along the line he may have consumed bad blood of some sort and that has affected his cell regeneration.”

  That seemed a plausible theory. “But the others? It doesn’t affect them?”

  The colonel shrugged. “The Prince gets the prime choice of morsels when he hunts. The others are left with the dregs. He has the best of everything. Many of his companions and wives have decayed beyond usefulness and have gone to dust. Either by their own volition,” he scratched the end of his nose delicately, “or his.”

  I winced. The murdering toad. The sooner I found a way out of this castle the better.

  “I think the prince is nearing the end of his time, Madam.”

  Not absolutely immortal then?

  “Colonel?” I made my way over to the table and looked down at the silver platter covered dishes. “What do you know
about the woman who brings the meals up from the kitchen?”

  “Not a huge amount,” the colonel admitted. “She lives in the village down the road. You probably passed it on your way here.

  I thought back to the lonely winding road through the forest. There hadn’t been much to see. I vaguely recalled a few lonely buildings.

  “She’s not a vampire. Is she sympathetic to them?”

  The colonel shook his head. That made sense. She didn’t fit the mode. Didn’t look like one of them and had none of their swagger and arrogance. “Remember, they hire locals to help out with the daily running of the castle. In many cases they have little choice.”

  “I see.” Yes, he’d told me that.

  Perhaps she hadn’t said anything to the vampires about my absence after all. Maybe she wasn’t even on their side.

  I lifted one of the silver domes off its plate, idly wondering what had been for lunch and whether any cake had been on the menu.

  The plate was empty of everything except a folded piece of paper.

  I gaped at in in surprise, then dropped the dome with a clang in my rush to pick up the note and read what it had to say.

  Meet me on the roof at midnight.

  It had been signed by ‘A friend.’

  I huddled in a sheltered place where two of the outer walls met. With little time to change I’d simply thrown a robe over my satin dress, checked my wand was safely in place, grabbed my mobile and crept out of my room. While off on my wanderings earlier in the day, I hadn’t ventured up to the roof, but I figured it wouldn’t be difficult to find. One simply carried on climbing the stairs, I supposed. In effect that was all I needed to do; round and round for what seemed an interminable amount of time. The stairwells became increasingly narrow and the steps themselves more uneven as though no great care had been taken over the crafting of these.

  Eventually I could go no further. I paused and held my ear against the wood of the final door for a long time, trying to ascertain what was on the other side. There was nothing but silence, and the cold draft coming from the crack at the foot of the door suggested I’d reached my final destination.

  I gently eased the door open and slipped out into the brisk night. Finding nobody about, I scoured the shadows. The moon was out somewhere. I could tell because the mountains in the distance seemed to be lit with a most unearthly glow. But above me the clouds were thick, and very little light penetrated the shadows.

  There were several towers dotted about among the low battlements. As far as I could see they weren’t inhabited, or if they were, the sentries must have been asleep.

  I took out my mobile and switched it on, waiting for it to warm up, remembering belatedly the annoying little tune it made as it switched itself on. I jammed it into my stomach, dropped into a crouch and tried to cover the noise, using my body as sound proofing. It still sounded ridiculously loud under the cover of quiet darkness.

  Still nobody came.

  I waited until I was certain all was clear before thumbing the screen. I quickly muted the sound and studied the display. Would I get a signal up here?

  One bar.

  Then it dropped out again.

  I tutted, lifted the phone and waved it around.

  One bar!

  And out it went again.

  “Batpoop,” I cursed.

  I left my sheltered corner and meandered into the centre of the roof, twisting the phone this way and that. If my orb wouldn’t work this would be my only means of reaching someone at home. In an ideal world that would mean Wizard Shadowmender, but I guessed that I’d probably have to make do with Penelope Quigwell.

  One bar!

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I found Penelope’s number and tried to dial. No joy. The signal dropped out and the call failed.

  “Uh.” I groaned, lifting my arm once more to catch the illusive signal I so desperately needed. I pivoted to my right and ran smack bang into a solid man chest.

  My mobile flew from my grasp. Reeling backwards I opened my mouth to scream. A huge gloved hand reached out and clamped its palm over my mouth.

  Eyes wide I stared up into the masked face of one of the hooded shadow guards. His eyes glinted as they bore into mine.

  Not a vampire, I thought. Too alive for that but I’m done for all the same. He’ll turn me in and Alfhild will be Prince Grigor’s late night supper.

  I twisted viciously, trying to loosen the man’s grip on me. Simultaneously I stamped my foot down hard on his. He swore at me and his grasp eased. It gave me the minutest of advantages. I tried to reach for my wand, still hidden down my bodice. A sharp familiar voice growled at me.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you, Alfhild. You know I’m a darn sight faster on the draw than you are.”

  I scuttled backwards in shock. “Silvan?” I cried, and clamped my own hands over my mouth, fearful that someone would hear us. He reached out and pulled me close. How had I not realised? His height, the breadth of him, even his scent. So recognisable. So very Silvan.

  The strength disappeared from my knees, more from relief than any continuing terror.

  “I thought you were one of them,” I babbled. He reached out and stroked my cheek with his gloved hand. “I thought you’d abandoned me. Gone off gallivanting.”

  “I would never do that,” he soothed.

  “I’ve been feeling so alone here. Terrified,” I admitted to him. When he pulled me into his chest and held me, I let him for once, all the fight gone out of me. “We were supposed to be accompanied by security guards but Ambassador Rubenscarfe let them go.”

  “Did he? That’s strange.” He pondered on this. “If I were you I’d be careful around him. You’ve been taking too many risks. Why can’t you just stay in your room?”

  “I want to get away. I didn’t come here by choice. I don’t know why they’ve sent me.” I pulled back a little so I could look at him, although it was disconcerting staring at a man in a mask. He didn’t look much like Silvan at all.

  “The Ministry of Witches are trying to draw out the real murderer,” Silvan told me.

  “You mean of Thaddeus?” I pulled away and glared at him in suspicion. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Wizard Shadowmender told me.”

  That news hit me like a bolt from the blue. “Wizard Shadowmender told you that? He didn’t tell me. Why did he tell you? Since when did you become so friendly with him?”

  “He hired me,” Silvan replied, his voice calm and quiet.

  “He hired you?” I thought about this, shaking my head at his totally incredulous story.

  Silvan reached for my hand. “He offered to pay me good money to come over here in advance of you and get myself hired. I had a couple of days to sort it all out. They’re always looking for decent guards at this castle given how remote it is and the rather demanding nature of the client.”

  “I see.” That’s why he was here. Wizard Shadowmender had sent him. And Silvan had wanted the money.

  It was stupid to feel so hurt, given the dangerous situation I found myself in, but I did, nevertheless.

  “I see,” I repeated again and blinked back tears. How ridiculous. I pulled myself together and stepped away, casting about for my mobile. “So is there a plan?” I asked not looking at him.

  “Not really,” Silvan replied, and his voice sounded strangely thick. “I just wanted you to know I was here, and to tell you not to take any more risks.”

  “Well gee thanks,” I retorted. “That helps loads.”

  “I thought it might,” Silvan returned, his voice gently mocking me.

  For some reason that made me feel a little better. It offered an edge of normality to the chaotic new world I found myself in.

  “Help me find my phone,” I demanded. “I dropped it when you grabbed me. It must be here somewhere.”

  I failed to find the phone. I could only hope that it remained hidden from any sentries who patrolled the roof during the day and that it didn’t suddenly find a sig
nal and start picking up messages and texts. Thank goodness I’d switched the sound off.

  Silvan and I had parted ways, with me gruffly wishing him a good night and him laughing quietly. I’d returned to my room where Colonel Peters was waiting for me, agog to hear we had a friend on the inside.

  As I lay in bed, watching the flames dance in the grate, I couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t the only one. I hadn’t asked Silvan about the elderly peasant lady, but it stood to reason that she had covered for me too. I felt better knowing I had a few friends around me. After all, I didn’t know whether the Ambassador had the capacity to pull off this diplomatic mission or not.

  The more I considered it, the more I recognised the existence of magick in the castle. The fires that burned without needing to be tended, the torches in the stone hallways that burst into flame of their own volition. If this had been a game of Double Jeopardy and someone had described those two acts, I would have known the answer right away.

  Something a witch can do.

  “What are you doing in here?” Ambassador Rubenscarfe knotted the cord of his heavy robe in consternation. It complemented the colours in the tapestries hanging in this bed chamber. He’d obviously only climbed out of the bath recently. His face was pink from the steam, and his hair and beard were damp. He looked scrubbed clean like a baby, almost vulnerable.

  “I thought we should have a little tete-a-tete,” I said, eyeing his breakfast tray. I’d eaten all of mine, but I could still have gone another round of toast and more coffee. Unfortunately, although the Ambassador had left plenty of food, it all looked a little cold and sad.

  “I thought we were locked in?” he hissed at me.

  “Well we are. Or were,” I replied, and gestured at my own witchy robes with a dramatic sweep of my wand. “For are we not witches? Can we not undo locks with a spell?” How had he failed to notice that?