Spell of the Dark Castle (Chronicles of Zofia Trickenbod Book 2)

by Lorelei Bell

  “Is he fairly dependable?”

  “Why?” she asked fearfully.

  “I'd like you to take him with you. What's his name?”

  “Biddle,” she said, her fingers twisting in her lap so tightly, she heard a knuckle pop. “Are you sure you want me to take him with me? I mean, he might blow my cover.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “If anyone senses him, they might believe he's a ghost. How would they know the difference?”

  “True.”

  “He can be trusted to do your bidding?”

  “Oh… sure,” she said hesitantly. Most of the times—when he wasn't misbehaving, getting into trouble, or bedding a female Ghogal. But when she thought of how Biddle had acted so guiltily after this morning's antics, he might not misbehave for a long while again.

  “Good. You might need him to help you in some touchy, or dangerous situations. He could spy for you, since he cannot be seen.” He shifted in his seat. Lifting a hand, he made a fist about even with his head. From a nearby tree a slim, sharp-winged hawk swooped down and landed deftly onto his fist. The bird was totally black, from the tips of his talons, to the tip of his beak.

  “I'll send along a night hawk, like Romulus, here.” With the other hand, he stroked the bird's breast gently. The hawk's head dipped, yellow eyes took in the motion. Looking unconcerned, his head snapped back up, eyes alert and keen.

  “As soon as you are able to, I want you to send back word that you have arrived safely,” Stephen explained, and then made a gentle motion upward with the bird, and Romulus flew back up into the tree.

  “How am I getting there, exactly?” Zofia wondered.

  “I'm sending you in style,” he said, smiling again. “In my own coach.”

  Zofia blinked and nodded. She wasn't sure what his coach could do. Probably it could fly, since he wanted her there within a day, or a night, it would have to fly, because Dark Castle was across the Sea of Nectar, and hundreds of miles beyond Scyldings. She was guessing this by the way he kept referring to the Oblast, which was beyond Scyldings, someplace high in the Cordova Mountains.

  “My coach will take you as far as Raven's Hollow,” he informed.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It's just a speck on the map. Just eight kilometers southeast of Ravenwood. From there you'll take a regular coach. Probably the moonlight coach, by the time you get there. The moonlight coach will take you on to Dark Castle.”

  “Right.” She nodded slightly, and had to tuck her hair behind her ear again.

  Into the gathering silence he asked, “Getting cold feet?”

  “Cold everything,” she said. “I faced Blood because I had no choice. This is different. What if Saint Germain is a vampire?”

  “That possibility does exist. However, from all our accounts, the count doesn't take blood from the unwilling.”

  “A kinder and gentler vampire?”

  He chuckled. His gold-green gaze had gone to her neck. “If he is a vampire, he will know you have been bitten, Zofia. In fact, every vampire within a kilometer will know it. You need to take care to keep that necklace I gave you around your neck at all times; forty-eight-seven.”

  She nodded soberly, touching her neck. “I will.”

  “You may want to make up a story to go along with those bites. If it's known that the vampire that gave them to you is no longer around, there'll be a dozen vampires wanting to make you their own. Seduction by a vampire happens so quickly, and when you least expect it, that you could become a victim if you do not take my advice.

  “Got it.” A chill ran down her back. She remembered the ease with which vampire Dorian had called her to him, after he had bitten her. “The necklace will definitely keep them from getting into my head, and call me to them?”

  “It should.”

  “It should?” You don't know—”

  Stephen put his hand up to stall her. “That necklace has been proven effective on ninety-nine percent of the vampires we've tested it on. You should be fine.”

  Zofia nodded, and gripped her lower lip with her teeth.

  “Scared?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Don't be,” he said with an easy smile. “I have to admit, I've never inducted a woman into the Knighthood before,” he said and blew out a breath. “This is new for the both of us. But, the best part about it is that you are a woman,” he went on, his gold-green eyes were pinched with a significant look. “You can infiltrate places which the men cannot. For instance, they have a much harder time gathering information from male suspects—for obvious reasons.”

  When he paused she had to put in, “I'm sorry. I don't quite follow.”

  Stephen gazed up into the deep blue sky in thought. A flying carpet sailed overhead, creating a brief shadow over them. The people seated on the flying carpet waved down at them. Zofia and Stephen both waved back casually.

  Lacing his fingers together, Stephen caged the knee he'd crossed over one thigh, and gazed back at her. He seemed to re-emerge from some dark thoughts and said, “When our Knights are engaged in tracking down their subjects, they use every avenue available to them. It may seem risqué, even immoral some of the things they must do. Bedding a woman to get her to confide in them has been very successful in our captures. I'd say about ninety-seven percent captures have been due to Knights having gained secrets from the women who are closest to their suspects.”

  “Oh,” she said, with sudden dawning. She could feel the heat beginning in her neck, crawling up into her cheeks. “I see. That was why Dorian slept with Xilomorah, is it? Problem is, it backfired. Didn't it?”

  Stephen didn't answer, but leaned forward again, arms on the table, hands clasped. She knew from watching him this morning, that when he did this, he was about to tell her something important, or significant. At the moment, she didn't think she could get much angrier at him. Which turned out to be wrong.

  “Zofia,” he began slowly, his eyes gazing into hers. She could tell he felt slightly uncomfortable with what he was about to say next. “Are you adverse to going to bed with a man you don't love, or even don't find attractive?” He went on quickly, “Believe me, I'm not saying this is something you will have to do. I'm only saying that it might be something you'll need to consider in the course of your investigation.”

  “You want me to sleep with the count? Even if he turns out to be a vampire?”

  “No. No, that isn't what I'm saying at all—”

  “Well, what is it you are saying?” she spoke across him, feeling that her face had to be as red as an apple at the moment. “I'm not going to bed someone just to get some information out of him for the Witenagemont!” She was aware that she was shouting, but not only that, she'd risen to her feet until the chair she had been sitting in fell back with a clang.

  “Zofia, please,” he said, rising as well, but was careful to not let his chair fall back.

  “No, you listen!” she said, pointing her finger at him. “Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean you're going to use me for sex—I-I mean I'm not going to have sex in order to get some dirty secret from someone, whether he's human, vampire, or were-person!”

  “No, of course not. I wouldn't ask—”

  “And just for the record—again—there's nothing between us. Got it?” She twirled around, almost lost her balance, and managed to storm away with her head held high.

  Chapter 11

  Stephen's suggestion she use sex to wheedle information out of her prime suspect, or anyone who knew the count, had angered her beyond measure. But she had cooled down during her long Transvection back up to her room.

  Once she had returned, she opened the small black box Stephen had given her earlier. Inside she found the silver and amber amulet in a bed of black velvet. The amber was mostly for good luck and protection from minor spells. And the silver would deter either a vampire, or a Were. It contrasted nicely with her olive skin, she noticed. She already wore an opal ring set in silver to ward off most evil spell
s that were aimed directly, or indirectly at her. The ankh, which she usually wore around her neck, had done her very little good in this department, lately. Especially after her overbearing, meddling neighbor, Lolly, had unknowingly invoked it. She unhooked the necklace and slid it off her neck because, as Stephen had said, it would identify her as a sorceress since they were the only ones who wore it. Picking up the larger, gaudier amber and silver one, she thrust her head through it.

  She caught her image in the full-length mirror. She had slipped on the green dress for mid-day meal with Stephen. She planned on bringing this dress with her, since it was the only one that wasn't overly gaudy, yet would be acceptable at dinner. She found it helped hide her slightly bulging tummy, too. She wouldn't show for a while, and probably she'd be done with her assignment well before she did. At least she hoped so.

  What on Euphoria was she thinking? She was now a Knight, and a pregnant one at that. How did she get roped into such a mess? Well, she knew how. Stephen wouldn't admit it, but he'd had her in mind for this job for a while, now. Everything he'd said to her today pointed toward that fact. He would have probably asked her to do this even if she were not a Knight, but now that she was, he had the right to give her the assignment. Everything he'd said to her today pointed toward it. But making her a Knight divorced him—and more importantly, her—from any possible wrong-doing, just in case she was caught stepping across boundaries, into an enclave to spy.

  She didn't know anything about spying. But it couldn't be too much different from snooping on her neighbors when she'd lived on First World, after all. She had learned everything from unlocking her front door, to turning on her TV just by watching, observing, and eavesdropping on Ugwumps. It was the only way she could have remained on First World without drawing attention to herself.

  As far as her Powers were concerned, she didn't know how she would get through the day without using some sorcery. Even on First World, in the confines of her own house, she used her Powers for various things. She would surely have privacy in her own room. Plus, Biddle would have to be more than just an invisible helper. He would have to keep quiet, whenever someone was in the room. She didn't think she would have much problem with him after this morning's antics. And, she really didn't want to go alone. At the very least she'd have someone to talk to, and confide in.

  There was another part about going off to the northern section of the Province that bothered her. Fear. Specifically fear of Werewolves, and vampires, just to name a few.

  She spied the book The Wandering Traveler on the desk and picked it up. She had some time, so she took it to her bed, plopped down, propped the pillows behind her back, and opened the book up to the first page and began to read.

  * * *

  “Mom? Elton won't leave me alone.” Blanche's voice startled Zofia out of slumber. Zofia shrieked while her mind filled with images from the book. Werewolves and vampires were chasing her through a dark, creepy woods. Once realizing it was only Blanche standing there, and that her heart was staying inside her chest, she burst with anger.

  “Blanche! Will you stop popping in on me. It's really getting annoying!”

  Blanche flinched at her words. “I didn't Evanish,” she said, looking sheepish. “I knocked, but you didn't answer, so I came in.”

  “Oh. Sorry,” Zofia said apologetically, a hand going automatically to the bridge of her nose. A tension headache had begun to take shape, and she wondered if she could get some willow bark tea before it came to full head. “Tell Elton to come in here. I want to see him before I leave.”

  “Leave?” Blanche's voice hit that high plaintive note that she'd often had to ignore. “Where are you going?”

  Zofia gave her a hard glint. “How much were you paying attention earlier?”

  “Oh, right. You're going to spy on the count,” she said.

  “You and Tillie are going to have to return to First World without me. I—”

  The door burst open, without benefit of a knock, and in charged Elton. His black robe flowing like bat wings as he launched himself to land upon Zofia's bed jiggling the whole thing. The layer of thick quilts cushioned his landing and he began to jump up and down. “I'm going to wizard's school!” I'm going to wizard's school!”

  Blanche rolled her eyes, arm cocked, hand attached to her slim waist in her best grown-up-irritated look. “What a dork,” she sneered.

  “Here,” Elton stopped his imitation of a rabbit on caffeine and shifted several pages of parchment from his hand into Zofia's lap, giving his sister a triumphant glare. Somehow, he resisted the urge to stick a nasty tongue out at her. “Stephen said you have to sign these. I'm leaving on an evening coach—I'm not even packed yet!”

  Packed? What had he to pack? His old gym shoes, a couple pairs of underpants, socks, a T-shirt, and jeans? She worried that the jeans would be a problem if he took them along. Or, maybe not. He would become a curiosity, once the other boys learned he'd lived on First World. She didn't know how that could be avoided.

  Zofia looked over the papers he'd given her. It slowly dawned on her that she would not see Elton again until possibly the next Sabat, which was four months from now. She felt her throat tighten on the verge of tears. Dragon crap. Couldn't she get through just one hour without having to cry, fall asleep, or yell at someone?

  “Wizard's school is harder than you think, dork. It's nothing like the ones you've been reading about in your dumb books on First World,” Blanche said in a rude tone.

  Zofia gave her a warning look. Blanche backed off. Wizards and sorceresses had their own ways of dealing with misbehaving children other than the standard Ugwump paddling. A little zap on the nose went a long way to remind them who was boss. And there was no such thing as child abuse on Euphoria. Tough troll cookies.

  “Just sign the last page, at the bottom, Mom,” Elton directed, flopping to his knees, next to her. Flipping to the page, he pointed to the area left blank next to the words parent/guardian. Not exactly blank, she noticed. Dorian's signature was already there, next to where hers should go. This gave her a twinge of despair, which in turn pulled up all sorts of scenarios in her mind in which she found herself doing things a little differently a couple days ago.

  Zofia moved off the bed, went to the secretary's desk, dipped the quill into the ink and quickly signed the papers. She made her signature next to Dorian's. She now wondered how Dorian had gotten this all going in such short notice. But then, Stephen was very well-connected, being a lord and part god, that had to count for something, didn't it? Not to mention he was a graduate of this school Elton was going to. It was very possible that Stephen had arranged everything, once Dorian had told him of his wishes, after Dorian had become a wizard again.

  She felt her throat constrict suddenly, again. Everything she'd wanted to say to her son was gone, or she couldn't get it past the tears that threatened to burst from her. She didn't dare blink, she knew the drippy faucet would be hard to turn off, once it got started.

  “Oh, dragon buggers, you're not going to cry, are you?” Elton said, standing next to her, looking absolutely disgusted at the thought of seeing his mother cry.

  Zofia burst with a laugh, and then tears popped from the corners of her eyes. She dropped her head into a hand, hiding them from him. Typical of any self-respecting eleven-year-old boy, Elton held firmly to the belief that tears were for sissies and girls. Even then, sissies and girls going to pieces was not something he wanted to witness. He was his father's son, alright. Keeping tight reins on one's emotions was another Grandier trait. He was already on his way to garnering that aloofness this father had achieved by age eighteen.

  “Sorry,” Zofia choked back, able to gather her emotions and put them away, she lifted her head to look into his face. His face had matured over the summer into the long, handsome Grandier face, with just a sparse splattering of freckles across his nose. Enough to keep him cute. In a few years girls would line up to dance with him at the festivals, and balls. He would break some hearts
, no doubt, left and right, like his father had. She just hoped he wouldn't marry a woman and then—stop it!

  “I'm going to miss you, bug,” Zofia said, her voice shaking. She couldn't help the one tear that rolled down her cheek, then dripped off her chin.

  “Awww Jeeze, Mom!” he griped in a wheezy voice, then rolled his eyes. “Women!”

  Blanche suddenly chuckled. “You little brat,” she chided, reached out and ruffed up his hair affectionately.

  “Cut it out,” Elton protested hotly, yanking his head out of reach. This was the limit these two dipped into the warm-fuzzies toward each other. They pestered each other for the sheer joy of it for the most part, acting as though they hated one another, but underneath it all, there was love. Zofia hoped so, anyway.

  “You're going to miss us more than we'll miss you,” Blanche vowed, not letting up on the nettling.

  “I hardly think so,” he retorted half-heartedly.

  “Promise to write,” Zofia said, using the corner of the lace at her cuffs to daub at more tears. This was not unlike the first day of kindergarten, only he was the one who had cried. You'd think he had been sentenced to Hamparzum's now, the way she was crying, and feeling as though all was lost.

  “Where do I send my letters?” he wondered. Leave it up to him to think of that. She hadn't even thought that far ahead. If the count saw a letter from Myrddin's School for Wizards, addressed to Zofia, it might blow her cover, since she was supposed to be an Ugwump.

  “Just address it to here, Restormell Castle, in care of my name. Stephen will make sure I'll get it.”

  “I can't wait!” he spouted. “Both my parents are Knights! I'll be the most popular kid in school.”

  “Now, don't brag on yourself,” Zofia warned.

  “You're really going on assignment?” he asked, switching gears suddenly.

  “Yes.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Everything I've told you is secret, though.” She winced, wondering if she might have told them way more than she should have. Dorian never so much as spoke of his assignments, let alone where he was heading.