Snow White and the Vampire (The Cursed Princes)

by Myles, Marina

  So far I have killed four women. And those incompetent men who call themselves police officers have no idea who I am. The authorities from Scotland Yard, the Metropolitan Police, and the City of London’s own police team have joined forces to catch me. But they can’t.

  No one will ever catch me. I will go on to kill any woman who is unlucky enough to encounter me alone on a dark night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alba entered the empty dormitory rooms with a sigh of relief. She had begged off a celebration with Mr. Rollingsworth and Teddy by telling them she had a headache.

  It felt strange to be alone after winning her first case, but there was only one person she could think of who would be truly happy for her accomplishment: Dimitri. He was the one who had listened patiently to her dreams of becoming a barrister when she was a young girl. In fact, it was Dimitri who had encouraged her—even when her dear father had guffawed at the possibility.

  Alba hadn’t heard anything from him since she’d refused him at his house. She’d tried to convince herself that was best, but in the past it had never been easy to forget him.

  If he hadn’t left town yet, perhaps Dimitri would grow tired of London and return to Romania. That too was probably the best scenario, but the thought of him leaving stabbed at her heart. Her anger had dissipated in their days apart because the guilt she had seen in his eyes tugged at her. And when he spilled the truth—that Ileana was aware of Alba’s location—his guilt had probably worsened.

  Alba knew Dimitri. She knew that he prided himself on telling the truth. That could mean only one thing: he was actually trying to protect her.

  Justina emerged and slinked around her feet. As dusk settled outside, the room filled with an eerie, lavender haze. Alba’s spine prickled. Something didn’t feel right.

  Apprehension drew her lips together. She searched the bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen, but turned up nothing.

  Unable to shake away the feeling that something terrible was about to happen, Alba sat rigidly on a three-cushioned settee. Justina jumped onto her lap. “Do you feel it too, pretty girl?”

  Staring into space, Justina arched up dramatically and bared her spiked teeth.

  “What is it, Justina?” Alba glanced about again. There was no one there.

  Goose bumps sprang on her arm and her lungs hitched. Animals could sense things—preternatural things.

  A soft scratching came from the front door. Nerves racing, Alba cracked the portal open and saw a stunning Persian cat sitting at its threshold. The cat looked up at her with sorrowful eyes.

  “Why, hullo!” she said. “However did you get up here?”

  The cat took a diminutive step back and purred.

  “It’s fine, you little darling. I won’t hurt you.”

  The intelligence in the cat’s eyes was obvious. It bowed its head and put a paw out.

  “Very well,” said Alba. “You may come in. Maybe I can return you to your proper owner.”

  The cat purred again and crossed into the dormitory.

  “See, Justina?” Alba smiled. “It’s just another cat. Perhaps you two can be friends.”

  The door shut and the cat’s eyes darkened to an inky, malevolent black. In a whirl of mist, the animal evaporated and Simona’s lithe body replaced it. She stood before Alba, a slip of her former self, as pale and thin as a ghost. Simona’s dull black hair swung against her waist while her mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

  “What are you doing here?” Alba cried.

  Simona strode closer. “Thank you for inviting me in.”

  Alba’s heart slammed against her ribs.

  “It seems I’ve finally found you alone,” Simona said.

  “What is it you want?” Alba managed to stammer.

  “I want you to be frightened. Frightened the way you were in the graveyard all those years ago. Nothing has given me as much pleasure since. Nothing, that is, except Dimitri’s hard, naked body next to mine.”

  Dimitri and Simona were lovers? Bile rose in Alba’s throat. “You’re lying!”

  “Dimitri was mine after you left Romania,” Simona raged. “Running away from Stelian Hall was a big mistake, Alba. You lost everything—and in the end your well-planned scheme to avoid your stepmother has backfired. Ileana Zpda is a very powerful witch. Now it’s her turn to plan something carefully.”

  “What is she going to do?” Alba barked.

  “Arrange your death.”

  “Get out of here!” Alba blinked against a curtain of tears.

  “You think Dimitri is a hero who’s come to protect you against Ileana? Well, you’re wrong. While Dimitri watches over you, he is keeping a very dark secret hidden. If he doesn’t reveal it to you soon, I shall.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Simona’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It is a secret that might put you in more danger than Ileana’s scheme.”

  “Tell me,” Alba said desperately.

  Instead of replying, Simona bared her fangs. Alba inched backward and grabbed a poker and a broom from the mantel stand. When she raised the makeshift crucifix in front of Simona, the female vampire hissed. Simona shielded her eyes as she untied the sash laced around her black frock. “I leave you with a gift from your stepmother!” she thundered as she threw the sash on the floor.

  As Simona vanished into a ball of blue light, the long ribbon transformed into a coiled cobra. The venomous serpent reared up and fanned out its head. Alba froze. She opened her mouth to scream, but her dry throat clogged the sound. While the snake waved its upper half in the air, Alba forced herself to creep forward with the sharp poker drawn. Her heart pumped wildly as she met the cobra’s evil stare. Its crimson eyes and jutting tongue signaled its plan to strike.

  Can it bite me from this distance?

  Before she could decide what to do next, the door burst open. Mrs. T. entered the dormitory followed by her seven daughters. The door’s thrust batted the snake against the rear wall with tremendous force. The girls were chattering excitedly—until they heard the snake hit the wall and saw Alba’s drawn face.

  “What’s the matter, dear?” Lorna Tuttlebaum asked.

  “Stay where you are!” Alba quickly shut the door and smashed the disoriented cobra with the poker. The snake writhed on the ground for a moment before it stopped moving. Alba sank down on the floor beside it, shaking like a child in the cold.

  “My stars!” Mrs. T. screeched. She extended her hand and drew Alba to her feet. “What is that thing doing in here?”

  “It seems my stepmother has found me,” Alba said. “This is her warped idea of a reunion gift.”

  All eight Tuttlebaums gasped.

  “Ileana Zpda knows where you are?” Mrs. T. asked.

  “Yes.” Alba could hardly get the word out.

  “This is bad, my dear. This is very bad,” the large woman said with concern. “Ella and Edith, check all the rooms for anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Right, Mum,” the girls said in unison.

  Alba was very grateful that the brood had arrived when they did. With shoulder-length red hair that waved in shimmering curls and skin that gleamed like porcelain, the seven sisters were beautiful, yet they possessed very different personalities. Ella was the eldest and the leader. Elaine, the second eldest, was overly energetic, while Evelyn was a bit lazy. Being a hypochondriac kept Eugenia under the weather most of the time, while the triplets had their distinct personalities as well. The spark that surfaced in Edith’s blue eyes whenever she saw food kept her pleasantly plump, and Ellen was a girl who constantly quoted Shakespeare, her favorite author. Lastly, there was Edwina. She was the smallest and most fragile of the girls, and while she didn’t possess the sharpest mind, she did have the biggest heart.

  “There’s no one here,” Ella reported as she and her sister came back.

  “Good,” Mrs. T. said. “Now, Evelyn, I want you to dispose of this vile serpent.”

  “Do I have to, Mum?”

&
nbsp; “Yes. Now, go on.”

  As Evelyn retrieved a dust bin, Mrs. T. turned to Alba. “You could have been killed, my dear.”

  “I know,” Alba replied softly. She looked into the woman’s hazel eyes, unable to hide her fear. Mrs. T. knew that Ileana was the one person Alba was deathly afraid of.

  “Come now.” Mrs. T. patted her hand and directed her to sit with her on the sofa. “We won’t let any harm come to you on Ileana’s account. There is one of her—and eight of us. We shall protect you.”

  “Thank you,” Alba said earnestly. “But I’ve told you what she’s capable of.”

  To that, Mrs. T. made no reply. She plastered on a congenial face, but inside Alba knew what she was thinking: Satan’s favorite hound has just been released from hell.

  The girls crowded around, cooing reassuring words and offering comforting hugs.

  “Did your ballet class get canceled?” Alba asked.

  Ella nodded. “Madame Salinsky fell and broke her hip. I’ve always said she was too old and clumsy to be the head ballet mistress.”

  “Poor woman,” Mrs. T. added. “Reginald will simply have to step in for her when he returns from Bath.” She sighed. “Now, Alba. I was at the café this morning having my morning tea—oh, I was also enjoying some of those scrumptious raspberry scones; the ones with the cream cheese topping? Of course, they weren’t as good as the pastries Chef Frederick made. Poor man got fired last week—”

  “Mother!” Edith cried. “For God’s sakes!”

  “Sorry, dear. Now, where was I?”

  “In the café,” Edith reminded her. “But please get to the point.”

  “Oh, yes. Anyway, the gossipmongers were out in full force. I overheard someone claim they saw you faint at a birthday party—a party for some fellow named Drake Griffin.”

  “His real name is Dimitri Grigorescu,” Alba said shakily. “He’s someone I knew back in Romania.” And considering Simona’s information, he is still here in London.

  “We’ve met him!” Elaine’s eyes fluttered. “Oh, Alba, he is perfectly dashing.”

  That he is.

  Evelyn pushed her shoulders back with an air of importance. “He was in Teddy’s box at Covent Garden. You know, on opening night for Don Quixote. Teddy brought him backstage and introduced him to all the dancers. He’s a surgeon at St. Bart’s. We had no idea you knew him!”

  “Once . . . long ago.” Alba’s eyes glazed over. “Edith met Dimitri at the party—before I fainted.”

  Edith corroborated the story.

  “Well, this Dr. Grigorescu may be handsome,” Evelyn continued, “but there are some torrid rumors floating around town about him.”

  “What rumors?” Alba asked.

  “That he’s mysterious and keeps strange, nocturnal hours.”

  “Good gracious,” cried Edith. “He’s a doctor! And don’t people have anything better to do than gossip?”

  Mrs. T. frowned at Alba. “Yes. I’m sure this Mr. Grit-gross-goo is perfectly normal. But we can’t have you fainting on the spot when you see him, my dear. You’re stronger than that.”

  Clucking with dissatisfaction, Mrs. T. reached for Alba and thrust her head against her ample bosom. Lorna Tuttlebaum smelled of toffee creams and dusting powder.

  As the kindly woman stroked her hair, Alba’s mind sped. She was embarrassed that her fainting spell was the talk of the town. And no doubt Teddy was suffering through a string of harsh gossip too, thanks to her. But what bothered Alba most was the attempt Simona had made on her life.

  Will Simona come back soon to see if I’m dead?

  “Now,” Mrs. T. said as she prompted Alba to an upright position, “have you considered that the appearance of this handsome surgeon may coincide with Ileana discovering where you are?” She talked rapidly now, apparently impressed with her own powers of deduction.

  “Yes. I’ve thought of that,” replied Alba.

  “I beg you not to jeopardize your relationship with Teddy. Look at my girls. I’m trying to marry all seven of them off to respectable gentlemen. And Teddy Rollingsworth defines ‘respectable.’”

  “You mean he defines ‘horribly dull,’” Evelyn chimed in with a wrinkle of her pert nose.

  “He is not dull,” said Edwina, who held a girlish infatuation for Teddy. “He’s tall, and intelligent, and incredibly serious.”

  And he’ll be faithful to me, Alba thought. He won’t leap into someone else’s bed—as Dimitri did with Simona. “I didn’t say I’m tempted to jeopardize anything for Dimitri.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to say it, dear,” Mrs. T. said. “I see the love you hold for him in your eyes.”

  Alba’s heart missed a beat. She tore a string from the sofa’s fringe and wound it nervously around her finger. The tip of her finger went white. She wanted to know the truth: had Dimitri and Simona been lovers? It shouldn’t matter, of course. That was many years ago, and she had denied Dimitri’s current efforts to reunite with her. But it did matter. It mattered to her so desperately that her stomach wrenched with emotion. With me out of the way, Simona and Dimitri can resume their affair.

  Jealousy built inside her. She wanted to seek Dimitri out—to inquire about his “dark secret” and to tell him that he’d been right about Simona. There is no doubt I’m in dire danger. If only I’d listened to him.

  After this final encounter with Dimitri, Alba planned to be done with him.

  But she didn’t believe that any more than she believed Mrs. T. would stop eating raspberry scones and toffee creams.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alba lay awake listening to Edith’s soft, wheezy snore. Desperate to talk to Dimitri, she had waited until everyone was asleep so that she could slip out of the dormitory unnoticed. After all, Mrs. T. and the girls would never have let her steal out alone.

  Craning her head toward her night table clock, Alba saw that it was three-thirty A.M. She climbed out of bed and treaded carefully over a field of coats, gloves, scarves, and high-button boots. She managed to pull on a dress without disturbing anyone, but when she made her way to the washroom to fix her hair, a floorboard creaked beneath her feet.

  Edith sprang up in bed and Alba winced.

  “Gracious!” Edith whispered sharply. “Why are you dressed at this hour?”

  Alba hastened to the girl’s bed and grasped her hand. “I need to go somewhere. But you mustn’t tell anyone.”

  “Why?” Edith rubbed her eyes through a yawn. Then, as if struck by a revelation, the girl’s eyes flew open. “You are going to meet that doctor. That handsome surgeon.”

  “Yes—but it isn’t what you think.”

  Edith laughed loudly before she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. But meeting a man you used to know, a good-looking one at that, can only mean one thing.”

  Alba’s patience went raw. “Edith, I’m in danger and Dimitri is the only person who can help me.”

  The redhead’s expression changed. “Is that true?”

  “Yes.” She patted her friend’s hand. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone I’ve gone to meet him. He’ll be getting off his shift at the hospital soon.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I checked his schedule earlier today.”

  “Aren’t you terrified to be on the streets of London alone? Your stepmother is after you and there’s a madman on the loose—in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Alba sat on the edge of the bed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. But asking one of you girls to accompany me would be selfish. You needn’t place yourselves in danger because of me.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Edith offered.

  “No,” Alba replied.

  “If you don’t let me come, I’ll wake up this entire dormitory right now.”

  Alba’s shoulders rolled forward in defeat. “Very well. Hurry and get dressed.”

  Once Edith was ready, she and Alba maneuvered their way out of the dormitory without being heard. They hailed a hansom and instructe
d its driver to take them to St. Bart’s Hospital in Smithfield. The driver nodded from his box.

  As Alba bumped along inside the carriage, she found herself searching the streets for Simona. Through the window, her eyes scrutinized every cloud of fog, every alley cat, and every person. There was no sign of the baneful girl.

  Once the hansom neared St. Bart’s, Alba’s anger toward Dimitri evaporated completely.

  He had put her in this predicament, but he’d also traveled endless miles and relocated his residence to find and protect her. The moment she saw him peering at her through the gates of Stelian Hall all those years ago, she’d known he was trouble. But she also realized that the second she opened her mouth to talk to him, her fate had been sealed.

  The carriage jerked to a stop. Alba emerged and paid the driver. “Would you mind waiting for me?” she asked him. “I won’t be long.”

  The driver nodded in agreement. After exchanging emotional looks with Edith, Alba crossed the street and gathered her collar against the biting October wind. She peered up at the hospital’s gates, remembering the day Teddy had driven her past this spot. It was the one time he had persuaded her to skip classes at the university in order to accompany him on a city tour.

  Alba gave a nod to the enormous statue of Henry VIII located in an alcove above the gates as she ducked into St. Bart’s front courtyard. Maneuvering through a beautiful garden, she reached the main vestibule, where she climbed a staircase leading to the Great Hall. Cheeks flushed, she hurried past a wall of plaques bearing names of the hospital’s benefactors until she reached an information desk.

  A pretty, golden-haired nurse looked up. The nurse set her pencil down and folded her hands in front of her. “May I help you, miss?”

  “Good evening. I’m looking for the emergency ward.”

  “The emergency ward? Are you hurt?”

  “No. I—”

  “Is someone in your party hurt?”

  Alba arched an eyebrow and looked behind her. “I am with no party.”

  “So you are here alone? And you want to go to the emergency ward?”