Temple of Indra's Witch (Time Traveling Bibliophile Book 4)

by Rachael Stapleton

  Train Ticket to Nowhere

  Leslie woke and found herself wedged against Alana, head lolling on the shoulder of Alana’s sweater. Alana was staring out the window, tuned into the passing scenery of countryside, the letters from her mother stored neatly on her lap. Underneath them was a book open to Corvin Castle.

  Leslie felt her heart quicken. What had Alana found out?

  “Ye awake?” Alana asked in a soft voice.

  Leslie closed her eyes again, feigning sleep.

  “I’m no tool. Ye’ve stopped snorin’.”

  The train plunged into a tunnel with great jolting and shrieking, and Leslie bolted upright, wiping the drool from her chin. No point in continuing with that little charade. They both knew Helen Keller couldn’t have slept through that racquet.

  “I do not snore.” Leslie said as the train emerged once again into the light.

  Alana turned to look at her, her eyes full of faraway thoughts or perhaps just full of the land beyond the window, the mountainous Romanian farm country. Leslie watched her take a deep breath.

  “I tried Da on the mobile while ye took yer kip.”

  “Really?” Leslie said, her voice cracking halfway through.

  “He didn’t answer, so why don’t ye tell me why that is?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking— .”

  “Drop the act, Leslie. Ye’re pure Ned.”

  The train climbed through spectacular mountain passes until eventually they moved into the flat country. Here there were only patches of snow and the countryside was bare and gray.

  “Where did you say the jobsite was again? Deva?” Alana needled. “I looked up Deva but there were no Castles there. Something doesn’t feel right, Leslie.”

  Leslie grabbed the book from Alana’s lap and began reading about Corvin Castle.

  “Just because he’s taking the train to Deva, it doesn’t mean the Castle’s there.”

  “No. That’s true. I think we should get off in Deva, though, anyway. Ye said he’ll be catchin’ the train there, right? So, we’ll switch to his train; then we’ll all be together.”

  “We can’t do that. Besides, I’m not sure what time his train is coming through.”

  “What aren’t ye tellin’ me? Spill it.”

  Leslie glanced down and cursed —a guilty gesture, to be sure.

  “I promised your idiotic father that I wouldn’t tell you, but I don’t want to lie to you. Can’t you just please trust me?”

  “I will not. Now tell me.”

  Leslie heaved a hopeless sigh. “He’s not meeting us at Bran Castle.”

  “What do ye mean? Why not?” Alana’s voice was high-pitched with distress; it rang out loudly in the small confined space of the train.

  “Shhh. Something came up in his meeting with the Professor and they realized that the picture we have of your mother was taken in front of Corvin Castle, not Bran Castle.”

  “Great! So what’s with the wild goose chase?”

  “He decided at 2 am this morning that he didn’t want you going with him.”

  “And he left ye behind too, did he?”

  “He thought it would be safer if I stayed with you.” Leslie turned to Alana, whose eyes were now filled with tears. “Alana, honey, he got nervous and panicked. I’m sorry. I couldn’t change his mind.”

  A tear rolled down Alana’s cheek.

  “It’s understandable when you think about it. While we’re excited at the prospect of finding your mom—your Da is the one feeling most of the pressure. Imagine it from his perspective, he is the one—after all—who has to travel through time and he’s never done that before.”

  “That’s why we should be with him. Besides, ye weren’t losing yer shite when ye were going too.”

  “I have faith in magic—your Da still struggles to wrap his head around how all this is possible. I think sometimes he believes that your mom is really dead and wonders if I’m delusional.”

  “Then why would he go through with it.”

  “Hope.”

  “So, ye were just going to lie to me and then what? Hope I wouldn’t notice?”

  “No. Your mother said time stood still when she travelled or at least she always returned home at the moment she left so your Da thought that he would be back with your Mother in time to meet us at Bran Castle. He didn’t want you to worry.”

  “So he’s already in the past?”

  “No. He’s on his way to Corvin Castle. He’s performing the spell tonight. The blood moon will be his best chance and, if it works, then yes, hopefully he’ll be there and back within the same second…at least to us.”

  “That is if it works. Since when can Da work magic?”

  “To be honest, he can’t. He hasn’t been successful with the simplest of spells, but we did practice. He’s very lyrical and capable of reading a spell and I’m sure in the moment that it matters, the magic will flow through him.”

  “How can ye have agreed to this?”

  “He didn’t give me much of a choice, Alana. He was sneaking out in the middle of the night. Besides, it won’t hurt him to try and if it doesn’t work, then you or I will cast the spell on Samhain.”

  Alana’s head snapped up. ”What if it does work but she’s not there?” she said. Her face was strained, and small lines were visible around her eyes. ”He doesn’t know what he’s doin’. He can’t even work a recipe. What if he gets trapped there? Then I’ll be an orphan.” Her full lower lip trembled slightly. “I need him. Damn it, I need them both. This is so hard.”

  Alana’s hands clenched suddenly tight on her knees, and she bent forward, as though trying to contain some sudden pain.

  “You were going to attempt to travel through time with him, weren’t you?”

  She nodded.

  Leslie stroked her hair. “You’re almost grown now, Alana, please try to understand.”

  “Ye’re the one who doesn’t understand!” Alana pressed her lips tight together and swallowed hard, then turned to Leslie, eyes dark with distress.

  “Ye only want Mum back and I do, too, but he’s all that’s left, Leslie. The only one who really loves me. He and Mum—they loved me even when I messed up. They’re the ones who saw me learn to walk and were proud of me when I brought home good marks, and who—” She broke off, and the tears overflowed, leaving tracks running down her pale, freckled cheeks. “This sounds childish,” she said and sprang to her feet, unable to sit still. “It’s like—they’re the ones who really know me. They’re in all of my memories,” she said, collapsing her head into her hands. “Do ye know what it’s like to imagine them gone? I’ll be alone. She’s already gone and if he’s gone, there won’t be a soul left in the world who really loves me.” She raised her head back up, lip quivering in an effort to control herself. Then her shoulders slumped and the fight went out of her. “And I’m a truly selfish arsehole,” she said, in a quiet reasonable tone.

  “No,” Leslie replied. “You are a strong, brave and amazing woman.” She stood and wrapped her arms around Alana. “But you’re wrong,” Leslie said. “You still have me and your Gran-Da.”

  “Gran-da is old and he’s always with his girlfriend,” Alana said, with a sniffling attempt at a laugh. “Whoever she is at the time.”

  “Well you have me.” Leslie gave Alana a slight squeeze. “I was there when you came into the world. Your Da may have been the one holding Sophia’s hand but I was the one braced against her leg, helping to push and watching as you fought your way into this world. I watched you take your first breath. That’s not a cliché. I really did. Then they took you over to the little station to clean you up and measure you and listen to your chest and your mom, god bless her soul, she didn’t want you to be alone so she shooed me over there. Of course I gladly went. And you wrapped that tiny little fist around my finger and stopped crying and I knew that I would love you forever as if you were my own.”

  Alana sighed, and Leslie let go of her then, and stepped back. Her face was
tear-streaked, too.

  “What I’m trying to say is I know you need your parents. Believe it or not, I need them too, but this may be the only way we can get your Mom back. We risk your Da to get them both. It’s a gamble and God forgive us if we lose them both, but no matter what, you’ll always have me.” As she spoke, the train began to slow. They could hear the squealing of brakes.

  “Deva!” the conductor called.

  “Leslie. Grab yer bags. This is our stop.”

  “No, Alana, we can’t. We’ll meet him at Bran like we promised.”

  “I didn’t promise. Deva is the closest this train is going to get to Hunedoara and my Da’s life is at stake. Now, grab yer luggage, we’re going to catch up with him.”

  The train jerked to a halt, and Leslie looked helplessly out the window at the platform of a small station.

  “We can’t just get off, Alana. We don’t have transportation arranged to take us to the Castle and I need to talk to him first. He’ll have my head if we just show up.”

  “We have a problem then, because that’s just what I’m doing.”

  Alana pushed her way off the train. Outside, people were dressed in layers against the cold and they were rushing for their trains. Alana looked back, experiencing second thoughts. Leslie hadn’t followed her.

  She was on her own now. She felt a pain in her chest and she fought the urge to run back to the train. She could hear the doors closing.

  She turned in a circle and gazed hard into the crowd, looking for an exit. That was when she suddenly noticed the woman in the familiar, long skirt. She stood surveying the platform. She had a black scarf tied over her hair, framing a white face. She was a little too far away to see clear features, but Alana caught a flash of dark eyes and bright lipstick. It was enough to make the back of Alana’s neck prickle. There was something oddly familiar about that silhouette and those block-heeled boots. The woman was scanning the train up and down as the platform emptied out. Alana drew back instinctively. The woman hadn’t seen her, although she took a hovering step in her direction. Then she seemed to change her mind and turned away to scan another train, which had just pulled in on the opposite side of the platform.

  Something about her stern, straight back kept Alana staring until the train began to move again, snapping her into the moment.

  Was it a coincidence that the woman from the library had been on their train?

  Alana turned to go and ran smack into a petite, dark-haired woman. A sob caught in her throat. Leslie had followed her after all.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Trick or Repeat

  It was now almost dark, but from what Alana could see they were driving through a small medieval city with narrow cobbled streets, picturesque fountains and tall gabled houses. Lights shone out and the streets were almost deserted. Those few pedestrians they passed were bundled into shapeless forms against the cold. As they left the town behind, rain started to fall in earnest, painting the buildings and ground with a layer of shine. The driver mumbled something in whatever language he spoke, presumably Romanian. For a while they drove in silence. Then the road entered a dark pine forest and started to climb.

  Up and up they drove, the road twisting back and forth around hairpin bends with glimpses of a sickening drop on one side. Alana was beginning to feel queasy from being flung from side to side around those bends. Leslie’s bony elbow dug into Alana’s rib. Rain was falling so fast now that it was hard to see what was road and what might have been a ditch beside it. The driver sat up very straight, peering ahead through the windshield into murky darkness. There was not a light to be seen, only dark forest and rocky cliffs, illuminated by the taxi’s headlights.

  “The castle is not going to be open,” Leslie said. Her voice sounded tense and strained. “The Professor had a friend working here who was going to let your Da in but he’s probably gone by now and your Da will never hear us knocking.”

  At last they came to the top of the pass.

  “What’s that?” Leslie whispered, pointing into the darkness on the other side of the road.

  The driver grinned, showing his pointy teeth. “Corvin,” he said.

  Lights shone from the crest of something, a rocky outcropping, towering over the road, wreathed in mist. As they peered out of the window, they could make out the shape of a creepy Gothic castle, with its drawbridge over a rushing river, so old and formidable looking that it appeared to be part of the rock itself.

  The motorcar drove through a pair of massive wooden gates that had been mysteriously left open. Then it came to a halt in the courtyard and the driver turned towards the backseat.

  “Careful—wolves and ghoulies,” he said.

  Alana said nothing and stepped from the car. The evening air was cold and misty, and she was glad for the wool sweater. She peered up in horror at the towering stone battlements that seemed to stretch into the sky all around them.

  “My God,” she said. “It’s like we’ve already stepped back in time.” She turned to Leslie, who had just emerged on the other side of the taxi.

  “Yes,” Leslie said, half-choked with terror. “This is definitely the place from the picture. I just hope we made the right decision coming here, maybe we should go into town and wait for your Da to call us back.”

  “Ye’ve left him three messages, Leslie, and I sent two texts. If he hasn’t called us back by now then it’s not happening. Besides, isn’t that a van in the parking lot?”

  Leslie nodded, then turned to the cab driver. “If we’re not back in ten minutes, you can go.”

  Alana kept her eyes on the path leading them through the massive walls. There seemed to be no windows below a second or third floor and the front door at the top of the stone steps was wide open.

  Leslie shouted hello.

  “You know, this is trespassing,” she whispered begrudgingly.

  Alana brushed past her and entered the castle. The towering hall was hung with banners embroidered with a Raven and a myriad of swords and axes. Alana spun around, allowing her gaze to wander. Archways around the walls led into dark passageways. The floor and walls were solid stone and it was almost as cold inside as it was out. In front of the immense fireplace were two thick red velvet porter’s chairs and beside them a set of stairs.

  “Da!” Alana called out, climbing the steps.

  “Cullen!” Leslie shouted.

  “What is this room?” Alana asked, pointing to the lynx, wolf, boar and bear pelts that lined the walls.

  “Looks like the hunters gallery,” Leslie answered and led the way up another smaller set of stairs. They came out to a hallway, colder and draftier then the first floor, leading to the banquet hall.

  They walked until they came to a spiral staircase, and began the ascent. The staircase ended in a broad corridor with a carved wooden ceiling. Again the floor was stone, and it was lined with ancestral portraits of people who looked fierce, half mad or both.

  “Come on, Cullen must be here somewhere if the door was open like that.”

  A bang resonated from the hall below and Alana leaned over the balcony railing.

  “Get down,” she whispered to Leslie.

  They were silent until they heard the large front door bang shut.

  “Why are we hiding?” Leslie asked.

  “Ye said we were trespassin’.”

  “What if that was your Da?”

  “It wasn’t. It was a bloke carryin’ a boom mike. He must have banged into something before he left.”

  “Part of the film crew. They must be late leaving for the day.”

  There was yet another noise, but this time it sounded from the floor they were on.

  “Did you hear that?” Leslie asked.

  “Yes.”

  They froze and listened.

  “There’s someone standing behind the pillar,” Leslie whispered.

  Alana turned to look and then relaxed.

  “It’s just a suit of armor. Come on. This way. I think I hear Da’s vo
ice.”

  “He’s chanting,” Leslie said and they both began to run up the spiraling stairs to the upper floor. They entered a bedchamber full of drapes, hangings and heavy furniture.

  Candles had been fixed into iron holders in the walls, and Da was bent over a circular desk in the middle of the room, dressed in a strange outfit, reminding her of a painting she’d once seen.

  On the desk was a collection of oddments, including a sharp-bladed knife, a chalice, and some sort of incense that was sending up puffs of sweet heady smoke.

  Alana looked around and thoughts of her mother as she’d seen her that last time, pulled inside that tornado assaulted her. The tendrils of remembered horror reached out from the hallway beyond, as Alana began to sense the nearness of the book. Voices, confusion, the feeling of being on a ride at the fair—Alana was no longer in control. This was just as it had been that night.

  Da must have heard their footsteps because he whirled around to face the doorway. His mouth was moving and yet the world was on mute now, like being in the eye of a storm. Alana detected a movement to her right and then suddenly Leslie disappeared —or was it she who had disappeared?

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Sheep in the Reddish Wolf’s Clothing

  Alana woke up to shouting.

  “What happened?”

  Leslie turned to stare down at Alana. “You fell.”

  “Did it work? Is that mom I hear?”

  “No, honey—it didn’t.”

  “Why is the woman from the library here?”

  “Who?”

  She pointed to the dark haired woman in the blue skirt.

  Sandra Brun nodded. “Alana.”

  “The two of ye know each other?” Da questioned.

  “Aye, she was askin’ after the book in Hungary. I thought I saw her following us on the train but couldn’t be sure.”

  “This is the woman who hurt your mother. She’s the woman from the séance.”

  Alana felt her eyes widen.

  “No.” The woman from the séance had been wearing a large hooded robe and the room had been dark but surely she would have recognized the woman who killed her mother.