Hunting Prince Dracula

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Dăneşti and several other guards barked out orders for us to move quickly, their hands lingering near their weapons. None of us so much as uttered a word as we filed out of the room and into the corridors. It seemed as if Thomas and I would have to find another way to communicate. I prayed he’d not attempt scaling the castle again.

  After being escorted to my rooms as if I were a common prisoner, the first thing I noticed was an envelope pinned by a dagger to my bathing room doors. My guard hadn’t been tasked with searching my chambers and had left promptly after depositing me in the tower.

  I yanked the paper from the door, noticing that the dagger resembled something that I couldn’t quite place. The hilt was a serpent with emeralds for eyes. Where had I seen this design before?

  I flipped through my memories of arriving in Romania and halted. On the train. The victim outside my room had been in possession of a similar jeweled cane. How that related to this case was one more mystery to solve later. The parchment and whatever it contained was my first concern. I hesitated for only a breath before ripping the message from its envelope. Inside the message was simple—a Roman numeral scratched in blood.

  XI

  My knees buckled. At first, my rational thoughts were washed away by the flood of emotions threatening to undo me. Whoever had left this note had tried imitating the letters Jack the Ripper had written in blood. I slumped to the floor near the tub, pulse racing, as I collected myself. It was a shot aimed directly at my weakest parts, but I was not the same young woman I had been weeks ago.

  I was emotionally stronger now. Capable of so much more than I’d ever known. This strike would not force me into compliance; it would propel me into an offensive position. I was no longer prey, but the hunter. I pushed myself up and grabbed the note. I did a quick check of the hidden door located in the cabinet and found it was still locked from the outside. Either the person who delivered this note had the key or was unaware of the secret staircase.

  A plan of action was already forming as I entered my sleeping chamber and undressed. Whoever had sent the message thought or hoped I’d come after them. I wouldn’t disappoint. I’d overcome death, and destruction, and heartache, and would not let any of those dark times define me. I was the rose with thorns my mother knew me to be.

  My breeches were still drying from our adventure last night, so a simple skirt was the next best thing. I stepped into it, grateful to be rid of my bustle and corset, and buttoned up my bodice. It felt magnificent to move about with ease. I wanted no hindrances while I stole about the castle tonight.

  I was going to hunt down the Order and whoever was pretending that Dracula lived.

  I strode over to my looking glass and pinned my hair up, taking pains to secure it tightly to my head. A headache teased my temples, but I fought it away with sheer will. Once I’d taken care of my outfit, I wrote a note to Thomas.

  Cresswell,

  I have an urgent request. I need to see the Poezii Despre Moarte. Bring it to my chambers after supper. I have a bit of an adventurous evening planned for us.

  Yours,

  AR

  P.S. Please do not clamber about the castle walls this time. I’m sure you will think of some creative way to sneak about without ending up in the dungeon again, or splattered on the academy’s lawn.

  “Will you take this to Mr. Cresswell for me?” I asked the maid when she’d come to deliver my luncheon. She gulped and glanced at the letter as if it had teeth ready to bite her. “Este urgent.”

  “Foarte bine, domnişoară.” She reluctantly placed it on her tray. “Is there anything else you need?”

  I shook my head, feeling terrible about involving her in my scheme but seeing no other way to pass the message along.

  I paced and planned the remainder of daylight away, which was an enormous test of will. Afternoon certainly took its time slipping into its evening attire, but once it pulled its cloak of night on, I’d never been more pleased to see the inky black sky. As I marched around the sitting room, I became fearful that Thomas might not come after all. Perhaps the maid hadn’t delivered my letter. Or maybe he had been caught by a guard and was once again in the dungeon.

  Of all the scenarios I’d envisioned, I hadn’t thought of carrying out my plan alone. When I’d convinced myself he wasn’t coming and it was time to move on to the next course of action, a soft knock came at my door. Thomas slipped inside before I had moved two paces, his gaze alight with interest.

  “I have a feeling you haven’t invited me here for kissing. Though it never hurts to ask.” He grinned at my ensemble and rubbed his hands together, mischief sparking like fireworks around him. “You’re dressed for sneaking about Dracula’s castle. Be still my thawing, dark heart. You certainly know how to make a young man feel alive, Wadsworth.”

  TOWER CHAMBERS

  CAMERE DIN TURN

  BRAN CASTLE

  22 DECEMBER 1888

  “Did you bring it?” I asked, ready to search Thomas’s pockets myself if he didn’t move faster.

  “Hello, nice to see you as well, Wadsworth.” He stepped away from the door, stopping within reach as he brandished the Poezii Despre Moarte. Without preamble, I snatched it from him, flipping to the poem “XI” as I informed him about the note I’d found on my bathing chamber door.

  XI

  LORDS WEEP, LADIES CRY. DOWN THE ROAD, SAY GOOD-BYE.

  LAND SHIFTS AND CAVES DWELL. DEEP IN EARTH, WARM AS HELL.

  WATER SEEPS COLD, DEEP, AND FAST. WITHIN ITS WALLS YOU SHE WILL NOT LAST.

  “Look at this,” I said. Someone had taken a quill and struck the you out, replacing it with she. I swallowed down the anxiety swirling in my system. “Do you believe this is in reference to your sister?”

  Thomas read the poem again. I watched the transformation as his warmth and flirtatiousness were replaced by the clinical expression he wore for most everyone else. Tension was still present in his shoulders, though, the only sign that he was ill at ease.

  “I believe it’s referring either to her or possibly Ileana. Maybe even Anastasia.” Thomas continued staring at the poem. “It’s extraordinary, really. Whoever plotted this out…” He squared his shoulders. “This has all been a morbid game and we’re just now realizing that we’re players.”

  I shuddered. Anastasia had once mentioned that Moldoveanu enjoyed adding gamelike elements to the assessment courses. Though I didn’t believe that included murdering hopeful students or his beloved ward. No matter if castle gossip led one to believe he was out for blood during this trial. I’d seen Moldoveanu’s expression of true devastation after Anastasia’s body had been recovered.

  Thomas sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ll be satisfied with staying in and playing a round of chess until the royal guards run this lead down, will you?” I slowly shook my head. “Very well, then. What do you have in mind?”

  I left a note on my settee addressed to the headmaster, fearing it might be the very thing that prevented us from obtaining those two prized spots. I ignored the tinge of regret. For all I knew, if we stopped this murderer, we might all be granted admission to the academy. One thing I was certain of: If we didn’t make it back tonight, I wanted to make sure Moldoveanu would know where to find us. Before expelling us for good.

  I motioned for Thomas to be quiet. “We’re going vampire hunting, Cresswell.”

  We crept down the tower stairs and managed to make it all the way to the servants’ corridor before spotting a patrol. They marched down the main hall, noisily making their way toward us, creaking leather and weapons loud enough to alert the dead of their presence. I yanked Thomas into an alcove hidden by a tapestry. As long as they didn’t shine a lantern or glance too hard behind the artwork, we’d be fine. I hoped.

  I shifted in the small nook, realizing just how small a space it was for one person, let alone two. The warmth of Thomas’s body was distracting in ways I hadn’t imagined possible, especially while hunting the Impaler or the Order or whoever was truly beh
ind these deaths.

  Part of me wished to leave this mission to the royal guard and take advantage of the position we were in. Similar thoughts appeared to be running through Thomas’s mind; the column of his throat bobbed a bit more than usual as he pressed closer to me. Footsteps grew louder in the corridor, the tread as heavy as the charge building between us.

  Thomas angled his face toward mine, our breath coming in quiet bursts. In fear or longing, I couldn’t discern. Perhaps he was fabricating an excuse for us to be in the hallway if we were discovered. Or perhaps he wished to close the remaining distance as much as I wanted to.

  His eyes fluttered shut, and the desire I’d seen in them was enough to undo me right there. I lifted my face, allowing the slightest, briefest contact between our lips. It was nothing more than a shadow of a kiss, but it ignited a fire throughout my body. Thomas’s breath hitched loud enough to still my heart, his entire body going rigid, when the guards’ footsteps abruptly halted.

  The guards paused not far from where we were nestled together, their quiet chatter ceasing. Without making a sound, Thomas closed the distance between our bodies. Every inch of him touched me as he hid my form with his, sheltering me from view.

  We stayed like that, caught between the wall and the guards, barely breathing. I could scarcely think straight. Logic took a holiday and didn’t bother returning. I fought every irrational urge I had and kept my hands pinned to my sides rather than sliding over him.

  After a decade seemingly passed, the guards continued down the corridor. Neither Thomas nor I moved. Heat radiated from us in ways that made me think the most indecent thoughts I’d ever considered before. Gone was the girl who’d blushed at the mere thought of expressing her passion.

  Lord help me, I wanted this case to be over soon. If I didn’t kiss Thomas, I might very well combust to ashes. Aunt Amelia would have been appalled by my sinful actions, but I didn’t rightly care. If romance wasn’t a distraction we could ill afford, I’d live in the rush of this moment for all eternity. Even with those rational thoughts swirling about my head, I still experienced great difficulty breaking our contact.

  Finally, Thomas moved enough to whisper into my ear, his lips trailing along my jawline. “You are most certainly going to be the death of my dignity, Wadsworth.”

  I smiled sweetly, allowing myself a moment to collect my breath. “That perished a long while ago, my friend. Come, we’ve got to move quickly before they double back.” And before I decided against forensics and sleuthing and spent the rest of the evening kissing him in a deserted hallway while a murderer was prowling about. An amused grin lit Thomas’s face, and I realized he’d been whispering. “What?”

  “What on earth were you just thinking about? I said, dear Wadsworth, that you appear as if someone had laid a tray of sweets before you. Perhaps”—he dipped his mouth tantalizingly close to my own—“I might offer you a treat before we leave?”

  “Tempting.” I ducked beneath his arms and shot a look over my shoulder, thoroughly enjoying the way his gaze tracked each of my movements. “Unfortunately I must decline for now. We have a clandestine meeting in the secret tunnels.”

  Thomas sighed. “I rather enjoyed my suggestion more.”

  If one had believed in forces greater than those on earth, then it was possible someone from a better place had been watching out for us. We didn’t encounter any other guards and slipped into the basement morgue without a hitch. I ran to a cabinet and rummaged through it until I found a few supplies. A lantern, scalpel, and cranium hammer.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I whispered as Thomas lifted the trapdoor leading to the tunnels.

  He paused, arms stretched above his head, and inspected me. A smile toyed with the edges of his mouth, though he was clearly trying to quell it. “Always a dangerous pastime for you, Wadsworth.”

  “Hilarious, as always,” I said. “However, I believe maybe Prince Nicolae is whom we’re hunting. Ileana just doesn’t… I don’t know—it doesn’t sit right. I cannot imagine her impaling anyone or draining their blood with a mortuary apparatus. Besides, I saw the way she looked at your sister. There’s no hiding that sort of love. Nicolae, however.” I lifted a shoulder. “He was in possession of those drawings, including those of bats. He had the opportunity to send threats to the royal family. And… I’ve been meaning to share something else he’s done.”

  “Will I wish to kill him?” Thomas raised a brow. “Nicolae didn’t profess his undying love, did he? Although,” he continued slowly, dropping the trapdoor back in place, “a healthy bit of competition never hurt anyone, I suppose.”

  “There were… illustrations of me in his journal. He’d made me into something terrifying. Almost as if he thought of me as a vampire.”

  “Why is this the first time you’re mentioning this?” Thomas’s voice was a bit too quiet, his tone no longer laced with his earlier levity. “If you don’t confide in me, Wadsworth, how am I supposed to assist? We’re partners.” He paced around the room, hands tapping wildly at his sides. “I told you, I cannot help deduce when facts are obscured from me. I’m not a magician.” He stopped moving and took a few deep breaths before meeting my gaze. “What else?”

  I inhaled deeply. “Prince Nicolae knows forensics and had access to each victim—plus the threat just left in my chambers mentioning a she. I do not believe it refers to me.”

  Thomas hefted the door open again and motioned me toward the stairs. “Are you suggesting we’re about to find my sister and her lover impaled in these tunnels?”

  Though his tone was carefully composed and his comment brash, I heard the underlying worry. No matter how cold and clinical he could be in the laboratory, relaying the devastating news of Daciana’s death to his family would be an unbearable task for him. I stepped closer and squeezed his arm gently. “I’m saying to prepare yourself for the worst. I might be wrong.”

  As I took up the lantern and cautiously picked my way down the stairs, I thought I heard him mutter, “I fear you may be right.”

  A large barbary spider with her young in her web.

  SECRET PASSAGE

  PASAJ SECRET

  BRAN CASTLE

  22 DECEMBER 1888

  “To be clear. When you’d invited me on ‘an adventurous evening,’ this wasn’t how I imagined it going, Wadsworth.”

  Thomas plucked a cobweb off his frock coat, mouth puckered at the stickiness clinging to his fingers. We’d made wonderful time, traversing quickly through the tunnels we’d already been in. Now we were standing before the first clue. Or at least I believed that’s what it was. Thomas fidgeted beside me.

  “If we’re all being hunted by some highly creative murderer, we might as well enjoy our last moments alive,” he continued. “Might I offer a few alternatives to spiders and dingy tunnels? Perhaps drinking too much wine. A warm fire. Inappropriate flirtations.”

  I held the lantern away from my body, gaze gliding across the darkness as I spun in place. Shadows shifted obediently around the beam of light.

  “Amazing,” I said.

  “I thought so as well. Though it’s nice to hear you agree with some of my suggestions for once.”

  “I meant this. There’s a door here.” I squinted at the black letters on it, chipped with age. I was certain we were on the path to discovering where the Impaler or Order was dwelling. “There’s… is that Latin burned into the wood?”

  “It is. A cross was burned into the other chamber. Seems we’re on the right path, then.” Drifting forward, Thomas nibbled his bottom lip as he read the words on the door. “Lycosa singoriensis. That sounds… familiar.”

  A soft crunch of pebbles nearby made us tense for battle. I held on to the scalpel, and Thomas was armed with the hammer used to crack open craniums. It was the best we could do.

  “Did you hear that?” Thomas whispered, shifting so that he was beside me.

  I twisted the knob on the lantern, the hiss of gas spluttering out at the same time the flame did. I blinked
, though that hardly made a difference. Without the light, the tunnel was practically a solid wall of black pressing down on us. Something twisted in my chest, nearly choking the breath from me. I pretended it was the blue-velvet night sky and I was cushioned on a cloud. Otherwise I’d start imagining being buried beneath the stone and I’d perish on the spot. The sound grew louder and was coming from the tunnel we’d just vacated.

  We’d decided to leave the trapdoor in the morgue open, hoping a guard would come across it if something terrible happened to us. I hoped they hadn’t already started pursuing us. Thomas brushed against my arm in the dark, a gentle reminder he was there beside me.

  “We probably disturbed a nest of rats, Cresswell. No need to get your drawers in a bunch.”

  I heard the smile in his voice before he answered. “When that’s the most comforting thought you can come up with, things aren’t going very well. Though I’m pleased you’re thinking of my underthings.”

  Before I could respond, the distinct sound of footsteps broke through my thoughts. The tread thumped loud enough for me to determine that there were at least two people pursuing us. Or whatever secret we might be about to unearth. They were getting closer. Suddenly, the possibility of Moldoveanu and Dăneşti coming upon us wasn’t the most fearsome thought. We had no idea who the Order was or how many people might be involved.

  “Whoever is heading toward us probably isn’t the kind of person we’d want to meet in an abandoned place, far away from where people can hear our screams, Cresswell.”

  I could hear Thomas fumbling in the dark, and imagined his hands flying around the wall. Steps echoed behind us. Long shadows folded themselves around the corner, pointing out those who did not belong to their masters. If we did not find a hiding place now…