Being here with him in the flesh was disconcerting. His spirit touched her for reasons she didn’t want to explore too deeply. No other human had ever affected her like that. She didn’t like it. Being on the soil where he’d been born and destroyed always made her feel dirty and unhappy. It really didn’t make sense, but then again, it didn’t have to. It just was.
The details Antoine filled in made a great deal of sense, given what she’d seen so far. It was the year 1476, and Dracula, aided by Stephen Báthory, great-uncle of the Blood Countess, Elizabeth Báthory, had once again gained control of Wallachia. Riah had met the bitch, Elizabeth Báthory, too, an encounter she’d never forget. Say what they would about vampires, that all-too-human psycho made even Rodolphe look like a not-so-bad guy. Whether or not Elizabeth’s tendencies were a family trait she inherited from, say an uncle, remained to be seen.
Riah’s real plan? To find Lura and get of here as quickly as possible. The trick would be to make their way through the city, discreetly inquiring as to her whereabouts without raising the attention of Dracula. The fictional vampire was a pussycat compared to the real deal, and she didn’t intend to find herself, or any of them for that matter, summoned to an audience before the flesh-and-blood man.
As she watched out the window, the morning sunlight began to turn to a cloudy gray. Soon snowflakes started to flutter again, only this time it wasn’t the light dusting of the day before. So far the weather hadn’t impeded their journey, but it appeared their luck was about to run out. November and December in this land could be harsh and bitterly cold. She remembered that clearly, and once again it made her all the more determined to get back to their century with all its comforts. She didn’t plan to be here any longer than absolutely necessary.
It also reminded her that they’d have to find appropriate outerwear, something they hadn’t come across at the manor house. Finding warm, fur-lined cloaks for herself and Ivy wasn’t a problem. Paying for them was. She didn’t exactly have fifteenth-century currency in her pockets. The only choice she could see was to appeal to Antoine, and the gold necklace she wore at her neck would more than likely ease any reluctance he might have.
Finding something to keep their servants warm and dry would be far more problematic. The roles Adriana and Colin were playing didn’t lend themselves to expensive furs, even if that’s exactly what she’d wrap her beloved Adriana in. If she was to keep them safe, they had to stay in character, and that meant winter attire that was in keeping with their station.
If she could get her hands on a couple of shepherd’s cloaks and hats, the sheepskin outer wear would go a long way toward protecting Adriana and Colin from the incoming storm. Not the luxurious furs she and Ivy could enjoy, but sturdy nonetheless. She’d ask Antoine to help her, and then they could continue their quest.
Antoine must have possessed his own form of magic, because several hours later, the four of them stepped outside into the bright, white snow. Antoine had his man bring his carriage to the front, and Colin helped Ivy and Riah, heavy with the thick fur cloaks, into the coach. Colin and Adriana, dressed in the unbleached sheepskin wraps and black sheepskin hats Antoine had called căciulăs, seated themselves behind the two horses. From all appearances, two grand ladies out for a winter ride.
Ideally, both Adriana and Colin should be inside the carriage and protected from the elements. Adriana was such a small woman, without any meat on her bones to fight the inclement weather. And Colin? He was much more alert this morning, but it was clear yesterday’s injury was still taking its toll. That they were stuck in the falling snow pretending to be subservient to Riah and Ivy grated on her.
Unfortunately, they really didn’t have a better choice. Laying low meant blending in. Blending in meant Colin and Ivy doing exactly what servants in this society would do…sit outside in the cold and cater to the needs of their betters. She was going to pay for this when they got home, no doubt about it.
Doing a passable job of pretending he knew what he was doing, Colin guided the horses through the city in the general direction of Vlad’s castle. For a man more accustomed to driving cars, he was negotiating the world of horse-drawn carriages quite well. Pretty good for a guy who’d had an arrow pulled out of his shoulder less than twenty-four hours ago.
Pulling back the heavy brown curtain that covered the carriage window, she peered out at the city passing by. It suddenly struck her how quiet things were. Certainly the sudden snowstorm had something to do with that. Those who could stay indoors, out of the snow, would. Only those who had to ventured out. Even so, it seemed unusually quiet, and she had the impression it was much more than a storm.
As they neared Vlad’s stronghold, the reason for the somber and quiet city became all too clear. Ahead, high on stakes rising at least fifteen feet in the air, hung the still forms of three men. They’d been staked through the trunk of their bodies, their arms and legs dangling, their heads drooping to their chests. Blood had flowed from their broken bodies down the stakes until it pooled on the ground beneath them. Instead of a pristine blanket of white snow at their feet, they were surrounded by the vermilion justice of Vlad the Impaler.
*
It took every ounce of strength Lura possessed to pull Nicoletta from the filth-covered ground and drag her back into the castle. Whispering into her ear the whole time, she hoped her words would soothe the distraught woman. They must have helped at least a little, because her screams had quieted into breathless sobs by the time she had her inside the stone walls.
If she lived to be a hundred years old Lura didn’t think she could ever erase from her memory the sight of Alexandru’s lifeless, blood-soaked body staked and on display for every eye in the city. If she thought the sight of the stranger being staked yesterday was the most terrible thing she’d ever seen. It wasn’t. This was so much worse.
All she could think of was the handsome and gentle man who’d driven her around the streets of Bucharest and through the beautiful countryside. She remembered how he’d rowed across the water until they reached the grassy banks of Snagov Island. How he’d tried to make her feel at home and gave her heartfelt words of comfort about Vic. He was…had been…a good man.
She hated Dracula for changing all that. Hated that a good man had died because of her, and she was absolutely convinced that his life had been stolen in such a vicious way because of her. How was she going to live with that, on top of the guilt she felt over Vic? She’d believed Vic’s death was the worst thing she’d ever experienced. She was wrong.
Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t accomplish anything useful. Some things were way more important. Nicoletta was on the verge of collapsing, and if she did, she could very easily meet the same fate as her brother. No way was Lura going to let that happen. Out of her element to be sure. Up to meeting the challenge, without question.
With much coaxing and whispered words of comfort, her arms around her for support, she managed to get Nicoletta back into their chamber. Funny how all of a sudden she thought of it as theirs, but she did. No doubt would always think of it that way when years from now she sat in her own home, alone with nothing except her memories for comfort.
Inside the chamber, she convinced Nicoletta to sit on the bed while she took a cloth and dipped it in a bowl of cool water. As Nicoletta had tended to her on their arrival, she now returned the kindness. Gently, she wiped away the tears that poured down her face. Only a little better. Her sad eyes still brimmed, and her face was an alarming shade of pasty white.
“We have to leave,” Lura told her as she held her face between her hands. “We aren’t safe here.”
“What does it matter?” Her words sounded hollow and lifeless. Defeat radiated from her like the rays of the sun. It broke Lura’s heart.
She stroked Nicoletta’s cheeks. The coolness of her skin concerned her. She softened her voice. “I don’t have a good feeling about staying here. I’m worried the Prince will come for you next, and not for the same reason he did last night.�
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Still she didn’t look at her and didn’t move. “Let him come.”
“Nicoletta!” Lura almost yelled. She didn’t know how else to snap her out of the funk that, while she was entitled to, was dangerous.
It worked. For the first time since they’d returned, life sparked in her eyes. She’d been around enough apathetic patients to know when it was time to put on her doctor hat and demand attention. For a lot of reasons, she wasn’t about to let Nicoletta drop into a depression so deep she couldn’t crawl out.
“We’re leaving here right now. I’m not going to let him hurt you.”
Nicoletta sighed and shook her head sadly. “He controls nearly all of the land. There is nowhere we can go and be safe. He will kill us just as he killed my brother. It is over.”
Lura stepped back and began to pace. Think. Think. Think. Yes, she was way out of her element, but some things didn’t change, including human nature. She’d spent her entire professional career with people fighting mental issues. Understanding their basic thought processes was what she did.
That’s why she knew this guy wasn’t done, and she’d put good money—a lot of it—on him coming for Alexandru’s sister. He had some kind of point to make by killing Alexandru and was of the driven variety that wouldn’t quit until he tied up all of what he considered loose ends. Both she and Nicoletta more than likely fell into that category. They might never know what their perceived sins were, but she knew exactly what the penalty would be.
Staring out the window at the unusually quiet courtyard, briefly she thought Nicoletta’s remark was dead-on. He had power in every corner of the land, which meant nowhere would be safe for them. Then another thought occurred to her, and she realized how wrong that was. She knew exactly where they could go to be safe and, most important, out of his reach.
In the wardrobe chest she located two cloaks. One was beautifully embroidered, with a thick fur lining. Heavy as it was, it would be perfect. She wrapped it around Nicoletta. She didn’t protest, though she didn’t exactly help either. It didn’t matter. It would keep her warm and safe from the snow.
The second cloak was plain black wool without the fur lining. It was obviously a day-to-day garment, not intended for severe weather or important events. With the snow continuing to fall outside, she wished it was a little more stout. But it would have to do. Her dress was a thick wool, which, combined with the cloak, would keep her warm for the most part. Hopefully, the snowstorm would lose its strength and their journey would be relatively precipitation free.
Nicoletta sat still as Lura covered her hair with a scarf, and then she did the same for her own head. Unfortunately she only uncovered one set of gloves, and those she slid onto Nicoletta’s small hands. She doubted she’d have been able to wear them anyway. Her hands just weren’t that delicate.
Finally, she decided they were as ready as they could be. Besides, they’d spent ample time here already. Too much, really, and departing was more than a good idea. She opened the passageway door enough to scan both directions. Thankfully, it was clear. Taking Nicoletta’s hand in hers, she led her, unresisting, out of the chamber.
Her mind raced as they moved cautiously through the castle. Getting out with little to no notice wasn’t her main concern. The more pressing problem would be the horses. Finding the stables wasn’t exactly easy for a stranger. They all looked the same to her, and frankly, she hadn’t been paying that much attention to begin with when the three of them came skulking in during the middle of the night. Still, she had to try; it was critical to the success of her plan.
They needed to cover ground as fast as they could. Walking wouldn’t cut it. Not in these heavy long dresses and cloaks. Not if the snow continued to fall. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body. Her earlier optimism about her dress and cloak might have been foolish. Truthfully, she’d be lucky not to get hypothermia dressed like this, even with a horse to shorten their trek.
Keeping close to the walls as much as possible, she began her search, pulling Nicoletta unresisting along behind her. She managed to keep on the other side of the castle from Vlad’s gruesome stakes. Nicoletta didn’t need to see that again. For that matter, neither did she. As it was, she figured she’d have to practice a lot of what she preached in order to avoid the inevitable nightmares.
Outside, she scanned the area, looking for anything that jogged her memory. It seemed to her that the horses had been handed off on the outskirts of the city, so if she could get them off the main drag without attracting attention, she just might be able to find the right place. She hoped so anyway, or they had no hope at all. Without the horses they’d freeze before they made it back to Snagov Island.
Fortunately for them, a lovely coach, piloted by a large man and a thin black boy, was garnering the attention of those who ventured out into the snow-covered morning. A stroke of luck for her and Nicoletta, particularly when she looked up to see the Prince step out onto one of the castle’s many balconies, his interest directed toward the carriage. He wasn’t looking their way at all. As she hurried Nicoletta along, she wondered who was inside the carriage, though only briefly. Didn’t have time. Didn’t really care.
Once, as they neared the city’s edge, Nicoletta stopped. Lura turned to see her facing back the way they’d come, her face pale and sad.
Her words shook as she told Lura, “I cannot leave him.”
With cold fingers, she turned Nicoletta’s face to hers. “You can’t help him now. We have to leave this place before something horrible happens.” She understood Nicoletta’s reluctance and wished she could do something. She couldn’t, and staying would bring nothing but trouble their way.
Nicoletta shook off Lura’s hands. “Something evil has already happened.” Her voice was hard.
True enough. Alexandru had been a good man, and why Dracula would condemn him to such a horrible death was beyond her. Like Nicoletta, she wanted to know why, but she certainly didn’t want to stick around long enough to hear. The man gave her the creeps all the way down to her toes. She’d never be able to read Dracula again and not see a river of crimson in her mind.
She focused on Nicoletta again. “Yes, it has. Staying here and letting him do the same to you won’t help Alexandru. If we have any hope of avenging your brother, we have to get to safety first. That isn’t here in Tirgoviste. We have to leave now.”
She thought Nicoletta would fight her. She didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and, for the first time since they’d laid eyes on Alexandru’s dead body, seemed to pull herself together. A light came back into her eyes, and it gave Lura hope.
The hardness of only a moment ago vanished. “You are right. Alexandru would want me to be safe. I am not sure how I can avenge him against the Prince, but I will find a way. You will help?”
“Of course I will.” How? Lura didn’t have a clue, especially considering her not-so-developed plan at the moment. Her hunch about getting out of the city was just that: a hunch. She didn’t know this place even in her own time, and she sure didn’t know it in Nicoletta’s time. All she really knew was that she’d stepped through an outcropping of rocks and into Nicoletta’s world.
Yet, despite her disorientation, the dots were beginning to connect in a way that sent a glimmer of optimism into her heart. In order to make Vlad and his violence fade and, more important, to keep Nicoletta safe, all they had to do was take a return journey through the rocks.
“Come on.” She tugged Nicoletta’s hand. “It would be a really good thing if we could get to Snagov Island before nightfall.”
Chapter Twenty
“Fuck.”
Ivy turned and looked at Riah. “What’s wrong?”
She wanted to say everything. They were out of their own time, crippled by injury, with their chance of finding Lura fading by the second. Worst of all, her hope to get through the city unnoticed had just gone up in flames. Not only was everyone paying attention to them, but the one person she’d prayed would be otherwise engaged w
as standing on a balcony staring down at their little party.
Riah had realized from the outset that her plan was riddled with holes. Still, it had been the best she could come up with, given the circumstances. What she failed to take into account was the novelty of their group. Strange people simply didn’t saunter through the city unnoticed. It wasn’t the way of things in this world. Maybe back in the century they’d come from, but not here.
Vlad Dracula was most certain to get wind of them; she’d just hoped for a little more time than they’d been able to grab. Wasn’t to be. Outside the coach window, two men approached, their boots kicking up fresh snow as they marched in their direction. She groaned and steadied herself for the certain confrontation on its way.
Before they had an opportunity to even speak to Colin or Adriana, Riah threw open the coach door and haughtily stepped down. She kept her back straight and her head high. “What is the meaning of this?” she barked, hoping to keep her accent to a minimum.
The larger of the two, an ugly man with deep scars on his face, not quite as big as Colin, stepped quickly to her. “Who are you?” he barked right back. He smelled of smoke, stale wine, and roasted meat, the stench making her back up a bit.
Despite her revulsion to his offensive odor, she narrowed her eyes and kept her gaze steady on his face. Show no fear was the first lesson Rodolphe had taught her. Strange how a man she held responsible for so many awful things about her life had actually given her some valuable skills.
“I asked you why you are stopping my carriage?” She kept the bite in her voice.
“I do not answer to you. Now tell me who you are.” He motioned the other man to come in closer. Like this one, he was less than handsome, with big arms and a round, ruddy face. Not exactly an inviting countenance, and he certainly didn’t smell any better than his buddy.
Above her, Vlad Dracula still watched. She could feel his eyes on her back, which made her skin crawl. How was she going to extricate them from this situation? Retreat wasn’t an option, and she readied herself for more. Before she could say anything else, from above them Dracula bellowed out two words. Roughly translated: “Bring them.”
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