Vermilion Justice

Home > Other > Vermilion Justice > Page 10
Vermilion Justice Page 10

by Sheri Lewis Wohl


  “Really, guys? Dracula? I’ll buy a re-creation scenario, and a pretty damned good one at that, but trying to make me believe this is real…Well, even as messed up as I am right now, I’m not stupid enough to buy into that as an explanation for the mega weirdness going on around here.”

  Nicoletta was gazing at her with a decidedly confused expression. Before she could say anything more, Alexandru fired off something rapid she couldn’t quite catch. Took her a second to realize he was actually translating her words for Nicoletta. Her Romanian was good, but somehow her tirade needed some clarification for a native speaker.

  The confusion cleared in Nicoletta’s face, only to be replaced by a frown. “This is real,” she said to Lura. “I am real.” She took Lura’s hand and held it to her chest. “Do you not feel me? Am I not warm and alive? Do you not feel the beat of my heart?”

  Lura wanted to yank her hand away. The sensation of Nicoletta’s hand against hers was disturbing in a good way, but she didn’t want or need that kind of distraction right now. Besides, using the very obvious attraction to get her to buy in wasn’t fair at all.

  “Yes, you’re flesh and blood. I feel you all too well, but in this time and place, not hundreds of years ago. We’re right here in Romania in the twenty-first century. Alexandru and I drove from Bucharest to Snagov…in a car. ”

  “What is this car?” Nicoletta asked. The confused expression was back and damned if it didn’t look genuine. If Lura didn’t know better, she’d almost believe Nicoletta didn’t know about cars.

  Alexandru was shaking his head. “Later, sister, I will explain what Lura speaks of.” To her he said, “Give us the day, Lura, please. Play along with us and we will talk again this night. You may tell us then if you still believe we tell you an untruth.”

  Oh, well, why not? It wasn’t like she was making ground anyway. They blocked her at every turn. She shrugged. “Sure. Convince away. Vic’s ashes aren’t going anywhere. But tomorrow, Alexandru, I’m heading to Tirgoviste to pick him up with or without you. Then I’m heading home. Understand?”

  He nodded, relief flooding his features. “If that is still your wish tomorrow, it will be my honor to escort you home. You have my word.”

  She wrinkled her face as she studied him. What was it with his manner of speech all of a sudden? He didn’t sound like the man she’d met in the hotel lobby. This guy was far more serious and his words so terribly formal. They were, it appeared, getting farther and farther down the rabbit hole.

  Honestly, the best thing she could do was pack it up and head back to Snagov right now. Drop the charade and get on with learning to live with her altered reality. This whole detour was beginning to get tedious. Except something seemed to tug at her to stay. She guessed the suspicion of crazy she’d pointed in Alexandru and Nicoletta’s direction probably needed to be pointed her way as well.

  It was then Lura realized Nicoletta was still holding her hand. She didn’t let go.

  *

  The moon was high as Colin guided the small boat quickly across the lake, the quiet hum of the little outboard motor the only sound. They’d returned to the car, grabbed what they thought they might need for the journey ahead, and now were on their way back to the island.

  The church in the distance grew larger and larger as they neared the dock. Riah’s throat tightened and her head buzzed. When she was a child she’d had terrible headaches, and her mother had tried to soothe them away with warm cloths dipped in lavender water. Five hundred years without a headache and now one came creeping back in like an old hated friend.

  A cool breeze brought gooseflesh up on her arms and carried the scent so familiar to fresh water. As they neared the shore, the sound of water gently lapping the shore was the only sound besides the buzz of the little boat motor. Any other place and it would be a romantic, moonlit boat ride. Nothing romantic about this. Not even close.

  Adriana reached over and ran her hand down Riah’s hair. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  Even the touch of Adriana’s hand hurt. “Headache.”

  On the small boat seat, Adriana shifted and studied her face in the buttery moonlight. “Say what?”

  “I know. Haven’t had one since before the change.”

  Adriana’s face grew serious. “That’s not a good sign.”

  “Nothing about this is good.”

  The boat bumped against the long wooden dock and Colin jumped out, grabbing the line and securing it with the mooring rope. One by one, he helped them out. The dock rocked side to side as they steadied themselves. She took a deep breath and headed one more time toward shore.

  As before, the moment her feet touched the solid ground, vibrations roared up her legs. This was very bad. The pain in her head grew stronger.

  Even in the thick of night, the spires of the monastery rose in the blue-black sky. As she stared, a fierce wind rose, whipping her hair in a wild dance. It was cold and uninviting, almost as though it was trying to push them back to the boat. How she wished she could do just that.

  “Crap,” Adriana muttered as she pulled her jacket close. “Wasn’t expecting this place to turn into a freezer.”

  Riah looked around and shuddered. Winter here could be harsh, and long ago she’d experienced its frigid embrace. This was different. “It’s more than the winter weather rolling in.”

  “I sure hope so.” Ivy chimed in. “I’m banking on those flipping rocks holding their own kind of hocus-pocus and pointing us squarely in Lura’s direction.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.” And she did, except Riah wasn’t sure if it was so they could find Lura quickly or get herself back home immediately. She suspected it had more to do with the latter.

  She didn’t stop to analyze. Not hesitating, she began to hustle in the opposite direction from the monastery and toward the stones. All of them kept their heads down against the wind, steps as quick and light as possible. If all went as she hoped, they’d find Lura on the other side of those rocks and return within a few hours at most. She wanted to be back on the mainland well before daybreak.

  Off to the left, Riah noticed a cottage, and while that wasn’t unique for the island, this one had a single light flickering in a window. That did get her attention. This time of year few, if any, stayed out here. It was too cold and too remote. Great for a hermit. Not so great for anyone who wanted to participate in the human condition.

  Not giving it too much thought, she veered off, pausing only briefly to ask the others to follow. They did. Once again, she was moving on nothing more than pure instinct. An unseen force drew her this way and she knew she had to follow.

  At the house, her knock went unanswered. The front door swung open, its lock not engaged, and they stepped inside with the confidence of those who believed they had a right to be there rather than the strangers they really were. A quick survey found it empty. Whoever had been here and turned on the lights was gone.

  “She was here. How did we miss this earlier?” Ivy’s voice came from a small bedroom in the rear. She emerged with a rolling bag, the long handle clutched in her hand. An identification tag hung from a strap. “It’s Lura’s.”

  Riah nodded. The buzzing in her body was even greater now. They were very, very close. She shut her eyes and concentrated. If she could focus, maybe a solution would come to her.

  Without a word to the others, she left the house and walked back outside. The buttery moon flowed down on the grass beginning to turn frosty, almost as though lighting a path just for her. She tilted her head and studied the play of light, thinking how much it reminded of her the proverbial yellow brick road. It’d worked for Dorothy, so why not her?

  She began to walk, the light taking her away from the cottage and up a small rise to where it disappeared between the outcropping of rocks. Vaguely, she heard the others as they hurried to catch up with her. She didn’t know if they were talking to her or to each other…didn’t care. She was focusing strictly on the rocks.

  Back at the opening in th
e stones that earlier had been a black void, she paused. The roar enveloped her like a cowboy’s lasso, pulling her in and drawing her ever closer to the yawning abyss. The sound was deafening, and she no longer knew if she stood alone or with the others. As she stared, a pinpoint of light pierced the deep nothingness.

  Vaguely, as though coming from far away, she heard Adriana’s questioning voice. Her words were lost on Riah as an irresistible tug to follow the light through the rocks pulled at her. She took a step. The pinpoint grew larger, the roar louder. She took another and her breath caught. Could it really be? Without looking back, she stepped through.

  *

  The sickness rose, and Nicoletta could do nothing to stop it. She crumpled to her knees on the hard stone floor and retched into the bucket. The last thing she ever wanted was for Alexandru and Lura to witness her shame. Not that it made a difference. Nothing mattered when it came to her. She was a ruined woman. Any hope for a happy life was gone.

  Her eyes closed, she waited for the rolling of her stomach to pass. It would, it always did. Just a few moments, that is all she would need, and then she would be ready to face the Prince…and Lura.

  Lura stroked her head, and the shock of her touch made Nicoletta start. Her head tipped back and she looked up into eyes so deep and haunting it was like gazing up into a beautiful bright sky. She wanted to say something, but words failed to come to her. What could she say to explain any of it? Or take away the burn of shame in her face?

  Lura’s fingers brushed against her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

  Nicoletta sighed and nodded. “I will be.” The tenderness and concern she saw in Lura’s face made her heart ache. How she wished her life were her own. How she wished it could be different from what it was.

  “You’re certain?” Lura’s eyes still studied her face with intense, caring scrutiny.

  “Yes, I am well.” As much as she enjoyed the feel of Lura’s touch, she pushed up and off the floor. Standing, she smoothed her skirt and looked over at Alexandru. She dreaded what she would see there—the horror, the dismay. When their eyes met, shock made her look twice. She saw not the expected disgust, only deep concern.

  “Sister?” He knew. It was in the single questioning word. The expression of compassion on his face made her want to weep.

  She shook her head. “It is nothing, Alexandru. I will be well and we must go. He will be waiting.” She could not make the words he wanted to hear pass her lips and prayed he would not force to do so. Her shame was great enough without saying it before God…and Lura.

  She took Lura’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “I beg of you, just do as we do and try to please the Prince. We do not want to anger him. I pray you listen well.”

  Lura rolled her eyes, but Nicoletta was grateful that was the only sign of resistance. With her golden hair once more in the pretty cap, she was a proper lady for her appearance in front of the Prince. “I don’t get it, no matter what you two say, but for now, I’ll play along. I expect an explanation soon.”

  She squeezed Lura’s arm gently. “I thank you.”

  Still holding onto Lura, she guided them down the corridor. Most doors still remained closed, although the scents of foods cooking wafted through the air. Her stomach rumbled again, and she hoped she would make it through the audience without the need of another bucket. Any other time, the smells would make her long for the morning table. Now they sent a coil of unease into the pit of her stomach.

  In the great gallery, Prince Vlad sat sprawled in his finely carved chair with the thick velvet cushion, food piled on a table next to him, a tall goblet in one hand. The trembling of her body was more than reaction to the smells that roiled her stomach. Her eyes lingered on the ornate goblet, and she wondered if he drank wine this day or something else. She sent a prayer up to God it was mere wine.

  He looked up from an animated conversation with a man who had recently come to the castle. His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept up and down. She shivered, feeling as though he looked at not her clothed body but at her flesh, cool and naked. No matter how long she lived he would always make her feel so. She hated it.

  His hand came up, and his long fingers waved them forward. Her instinct was to turn, pick up her skirts, and race away, but instead she held tight to Lura’s arm and moved toward him as he commanded with the simple gesture. At a suitable distance, she stopped and bowed her head, urging Lura silently to do the same. She did.

  “My Lord.”

  When she brought her head up, his black eyes bored into her as if he were seeing into her soul. The look made her cold. He was not content to simply take her body; he wanted to possess her soul as well. He could not have it.

  Just as quickly, though, his gaze slid away and locked on Lura. She saw the flicker of interest that crossed his face, and her heart sank. As she had feared, Lura’s lovely face and golden hair were alluring to a man who felt the need to possess all. She had insisted on putting the cap back over Lura’s beautiful tresses not only because it was proper but also to hide the golden locks from the Prince’s eyes. It did not seem to have been enough. Please, God, let him not desire her.

  “You.” He pointed to Lura. “Come to me.”

  Nicoletta squeezed Lura’s arm gently as she nudged her forward. She feared letting go of her but had no other choice. If the Prince called for Lura, she would have to go. To do otherwise was to anger him, and that was far more dangerous for everyone.

  Lura stepped up and, much to Nicoletta’s relief, dropped her head in a gesture of respect. She relaxed a little. If she showed proper respect he might lose interest quickly.

  “Your name.”

  In a quiet voice she answered. “Lura Tappe.”

  “Lura Tappe. A strange name for a woman with a strange accent. Your cousin tells me you come from England, and yet I’ve not heard an accent like yours before. So tell me, Lura Tappe, where do you come from?”

  Nicoletta cringed at Lura’s soft answer. “Washington state.”

  The frown that creased the Prince’s face worried Nicoletta. With a step forward, she was at Lura’s side. “She is from the far west, my Prince. A little village.”

  His head snapped around and he glared at her, his black eyes full of fury. “I did not ask you to speak. Be silent.”

  She nodded and turned her gaze to the stone floor, her hands held tightly together to keep the shaking from the Prince’s notice. Her prayers so far were going unanswered. God could not forsake her now.

  “I do not know this place you speak of. You are family to our fair Lady Nicoletta and her brother, Lord Alexandru? Have you no husband?”

  “I have no husband.” The sadness in her voice wasn’t lost on Nicoletta, though it seemed the Prince noticed it not.

  A slow smile spread across his face and a chill raced down her spine. She wanted to protect Lura and did not know what to do. She dared not interrupt again, and yet she feared what might happen next. He could not hurt her. If he did? She could hardly breathe.

  Heavy footsteps interrupted any further interrogation. Three burly men burst into the gallery, two of them dragging a fourth man by his arms. His face was bloody and swollen, his tattered clothing caked with mud. He was so thin, the bones in his shoulders poked through his tunic.

  “My Prince,” the first man said as he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. The long sword at his side clanged on the stone floor.

  “What have you brought me, Mircea?”

  He stood and pointed a beefy finger in the directions of the bruised and bloody man. “A thief. We caught him poaching from the castle grounds.”

  “My family,” the injured man whispered hoarsely. “I have to feed my family.”

  Prince Dracula looked unmoved. “And you think stealing from me is the answer?”

  “I am sorry, my Prince. I did not intend to steal from you. I only wanted to feed my children.” His voice was weak and full of despair.

  “Then you should have come to ask of my help, not steal
from me.”

  “Never again, my Prince.” Tears began to drip down his filthy cheeks, leaving long streaks. “I swear to you I will never again take from your land.”

  Prince Dracula stood and stared down at the man while wiping away the crumbs of his bountiful morning meal with the back of his hand. “And so it shall be. You will never again steal from me or anyone else.” He waved his hand, and Nicoletta wanted to run screaming from the hall. She had seen that command too many times before.

  Reaching for Lura’s hand, she squeezed it. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop the shaking, especially after the man was dragged screaming outside, where a stake was being prepared.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Son of a bitch.” Riah stopped in her tracks. Okay, it was true she could hang out in the sunshine and not turn into a pile of dust. One of the perks of being an old one. Still, this was a lot more than just stepping outside. This was full-on sunshine without a hat, sunscreen, or protective clothing, and it should at least sting.

  It didn’t.

  On one side of the stones it was a cool, black night, and with a few steps through, she was transported into daylight bright and light. Here she stood just like a regular old human being. Something was incredibly weird. In a way it was good. The problem was, she had a very healthy distrust of things that seemed too good to be true. Somewhere, there was a catch.

  She was scanning the landscape, her eyes narrowed, when sounds behind her made her spin. Tumbling through the stones came Ivy, Colin, and Adriana.

  Ivy started to back up, a look of terror on her face. Colin quickly embraced her, trying to shield her from the sun with his much-larger body. The sunshine could end her existence so quickly it was frightening. The new ones simply could not tolerate the killing rays of the sun.

  Riah watched in fascination as the light struck Ivy’s skin and did nothing. By all rights, her beautiful Hispanic friend should be writhing on the ground in agony, her flesh turning to blackened ash. She wasn’t even twitching.

 

‹ Prev