"Sure," she said, "just a couple of readings for one or two people. So! That was some boat ride, huh? Too bad you got seasick. I hope you barfing into the river won't damage some sort of delicate ecosystem."
I plopped down on my bed and glared at her. "Oh, no! You changed that subject too quickly for my taste. Which one or two people am I doing readings for?"
She avoided meeting my eye. "Christian volunteered to be one of your guinea pigs."
I made a face.
"What? You like him."
"Yes." I waved a hand and lay back on the bed, thankful the seasickness was short-lived. "Go on, who's the other one."
"It's two others, actually."
I sat up again. I had a nasty suspicion who the two were. "Don't tell me—Dominic and Milos?"
"You see!" she said as she jumped up from the chair and grabbed her boots, heading for the door. "You're positively psychic! You'll have no problem at all reading the stones for them."
"No," I agreed, "no problem at all."
She paused at the door and waited for me to finish.
"I won't have any problem because I won't be reading for them. Christian, yes. Arielle, sure. Raphael—you betcha. But not the gruesome twosome, nosiree."
"Joyful—"
I propped myself up enough to deliver a real quality glare. "NO!"
"OK, whatever, I'm sure we can work something out. Did you want to hear my idea about how to find out who the real Dark One is?"
I lay back down and flapped a languid hand at her. "Go ahead."
She grinned. "We're going to call in an expert."
"An expert," I repeated, closing my eyes and wondering if I had time for a short nap. I didn't get much sleep the night before, and if I had to stay up late reading runes at the fair, I'd need some time to catch a few Z's. "What sort of expert? A priest?"
"No, a real expert. The one person who knows more about Dark Ones than anyone else in the world except the Dark Ones themselves."
I mused on her words for a few seconds before I understood who she was talking about. I sat up. "You mean—"
"Yup, the man himself. I'll just give Dante a ring and see what time this afternoon is good for us to swing by."
I was too tired to even goggle at her. I contented myself with a grouchy glare. "Roxy, he's a big famous author! I'm sure he doesn't appreciate deranged fans like you calling him up. Oh, I don't know what I'm worrying about; you won't get through to him."
"That's what you think!" She smiled a particularly triumphant smile and waved a scrap of paper at me. "Got his private number! Turns out that Theresa the barmaid used to be a maid at the castle. Cost me a bundle to get it from her, but I'm sure it'll be worth it. I'll arrange with the hotel to have the taxi downstairs in, oh, say an hour. Get dressed in something nice. It's not every day you meet famed reclusive author C. J. Dante!"
I collapsed back onto the bed. Maybe Raphael had it right after all. Maybe we were all mad, and living in a madman's world.
As it turned out, it was a good thing I made Roxy call Dante's residence before we rode out to Drahanská castle.
"The housekeeper says he's out, but she'll leave a message for him," Roxy said as I emerged from a steamy, jasmine-scented bathroom a short while later. "She says he doesn't see many people, though, so our chances don't look too good to get a private audience with him."
"I don't blame him. If I had all sorts of women fans slavering over my studly heroes, I wouldn't want them knocking on my castle door, either," I said. "If we don't have to race off, I'm going to take a nap. I'm going to need one, since you volunteered me to be the evening's entertainment. Wake me up in time to go to the bar."
"Aha!" she leered, wiggling her eyebrows. "Going to hang out at the bar in hopes a certain hunky non-vampire puts in an appearance?"
"Well, of course I am. If you were me, wouldn't you?"
"Naw." She shook her head.
"You wouldn't?"
"Wouldn't need to wait for him, because if I had been you, I would have kicked me out of his trailer and spent the rest of the day riding him like a bucking bronco. Have a nice nap. Think I'll take one myself. I've got my eye on Henri, the guy who operates the dungeon room, and I'll have to get some sleep if I want to dance the night away with him."
Three hours later I woke up Roxy to tell her we'd received a phone message from the mysterious Mr. Dante.
"Go 'way," she mumbled, refusing to come out from under her sleep mask.
"Come on, Rox, you have to wake up! Dante's secretary called, and we've been invited to a late tea. If you don't get a move on, we'll be late!"
"Wha'? Dante? He called?"
I rustled around in her wardrobe, pulling out the one dress I'd insisted she bring with her for any fancy events we might attend. "Here, go wash your face and put this on. You want to look nice when you meet Dante, don't you?"
She lifted a corner of the mask and peered at me. "This wouldn't be a cruel joke, would it?"
I put my hands on my hips and glared at her. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No. You're wearing your good dress."
"Right. Now get dressed. The taxi will be here in fifteen minutes."
Thirty-five minutes later we drove past the gatehouse to Drahanská Castle and up a graveled road. Torches had been lit along the way—real torches, not electric lights. Roxy and I were impressed.
"Must be nice to have the servants necessary to keep torches lit," I mused.
Roxy grunted her agreement, her face pressed to the window of the taxi as she peered out into the falling darkness. I knew from my guidebook that along the front side of the castle were immaculately groomed lawns and what looked like a formal flower garden, where the GothFaire would hold their All Hallow's Eve festival. As the gravel drive curved around toward the back of the castle, we passed all sorts of black, bulky shapes that indicated outbuildings.
"Look at that," Roxy whispered, awe evident in her voice as we passed the family burial grounds. Torches blazed on a small, vaulted building made of stone. The light from the flames cast sharp focus on the intricate carvings engraved in the stone mantel that arched over the door, topped by two stone eagles with outspread wings and heads tipped back to shriek their eternal agony to the sky. "What do you think it is?"
"Mausoleum, by the looks of it," I answered back, annoyed to find I was also whispering. I cleared my throat. "If you think that's something, look up ahead."
She turned to look where I was pointing. The silhouette of the main part of the castle cut into the darkening indigo sky, the pointed spire of a turret on one side balancing off the gabled tower on the other. The whole place positively reeked of history, which wasn't surprising, since it had been the seat of the lords of Perstejn—a ruling family for several centuries—between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries.
The windows, narrow and high, were framed in the local white stone that we saw everywhere.
"Glorioski," Roxy breathed as the taxi came to a halt before two dark doors recessed into the wall of the building, flanked on either side by lit torches. "What do you think it costs to keep all those torches lit?"
"Don't ask," I replied, craning my head back to try to see all the way up to the top floor.
Roxy handed the driver a handful of local currency, and we headed for the door. Before we could knock, it was opened by a small, tidy woman with sleek blond hair. "Miss Randall? Miss Benner?"
We nodded. She smiled a smile that didn't touch her eyes and moved back so we could enter the building. Roxy hoisted her bag—filled with all twelve Book of Secrets novels—higher and flashed me a grin.
"Remember your parry manners," I hissed.
We were escorted down a bewildering maze of dark passages, lit with electric lights, I was glad to see, figuring that an old building like this would be a fire hazard. We climbed a black staircase and came out into what I assumed was the great hall of the castle, passing under vaulted wooden arches from which ragged banners swayed gently in the air. Wood pan
eled most of the walls, although occasionally I caught glimpses down dark stone passages that I guessed led to older, unremodeled sections of the castle. The woman told us as she took our coats that her name was Gertrud, and that she was Dante's housekeeper. "He will be with you in a short time," she informed us as we were ushered into a cozy room lined with mahogany-framed, glass-fronted bookcases.
I looked around with amazed interest. "Have you ever seen so many old books in your life?"
Roxy did a little spin and clutched her bag to herself. "I can't believe we're really here! I can't believe we're really going to meet him! I wonder what he's like, what he's really like. Do you think he's old or young? Do you think he likes American women, especially petite American women with curly dark hair and a beguiling manner?"
I laughed and bent over to peer in an environmentally controlled case at the open page of an illuminated manuscript.
"Honestly, Rox, I think he's a man like any other. If you just act like yourself and don't pester him with questions, I'm sure he'll like you well enough."
"Truer words have seldom been spoken," a lovely warm voice said from the doorway. Christian stood smiling at us, a small leather-bound volume in his hand.
"Christian?"
"Joy. You look lovely in that dress. Garnet suits you." He turned to Roxy. "And you are in a very attractive dress despite telling me you did not care for them."
"Are you here to meet Dante, too?" Roxy asked, confused.
The light bulb finally went on over my head.
"Your middle name wouldn't happen to be something starting with the letter J, would it?" I asked.
He set his book aside and came into the room, taking both my hands in his, kissing the backs of each. "It is Johann."
"Do you know Dante?" Roxy asked. "You could have told us you knew him. Geez, I would have told you if you were in my place!"
"Rox," I said, gently disentangling my hands from Christian's. "Meet Christian Johann Dante, famed recluse and author of the Book of Secrets novels."
Christian made a formal bow to Roxy, who stared at him in stunned silence for a minute, then flung her bag away, shrieked, and threw herself on him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as she babbled about what a fool she'd been. Christian looked upward to heaven when Roxy grabbed his face and started kissing his cheeks. I laughed at the look of consternation on his face as Roxy squealed again. He swung her around once, then gently set her on her feet.
"Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!" She jumped up and down for a moment, then grabbed her bag and flung herself at his feet, scrabbling for her books, muttering about finding a pen worthy of the great Dante's fingers.
I smiled one of my best patronizing smiles and patted her on the head. "So much for remembering your party manners."
It took Roxy a bit of time to calm down, but eventually she did, aided by some of Christian's aged brandy. He spent a goodly amount of time apologizing for misleading us as to his identity, but we both assured him we weren't in the least upset.
"As if we could be upset with you," Roxy said with worship in her eyes. She sat next to Christian on an embroidered settee, her body language that of an acolyte before an idol.
He laughed, the sound soft and pleasing as it echoed around the room. "Last night you told me I was a beast because I would not have your name tattooed on my buttock, and today I can do no wrong." He shook his head and grinned at me. "I believe I preferred being a beast."
I had a hard time dissuading Roxy from monopolizing the conversation by grilling him as to past and future books, but after another brandy, she finally allowed the conversation to be turned in the direction I wanted.
"Joy's giving me that look that says she's going to pinch me black and blue the minute your back is turned, so I suppose we'd better get to what we came to talk to you about."
"I am destroyed," he said mildly, looking anything but. "I assumed your enjoyment of my books was such that you merely wished to meet me in person, but now I find that is not true, that I am but a cog in a bigger wheel. Alas, how the mighty have fallen."
"You're almost as big a ham as Dominic," I told him.
His lips quirked, but he managed to keep a grin from forming as he placed a hand on his chest and gave us a little mock bow. "How can I be of assistance to my two favorite Americans?"
"It's Joy's vampire," Roxy said.
Christian settled back and crossed his legs, his elegant fingers tapping out a rhythm on his knee. "Ah, the admirable Mr. St. John."
"No," Roxy said. "Turns out he's not the Dark One. That's what we wanted to see you about. We need your help."
"Me?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he looked from Roxy to me. "How can I help?"
"Roxy's hoping your experience and research will help us figure out who the Dark One is," I said. "We know he must be close, because he's shared visions with me, and although I had assumed it was Raphael, it turns out I was wrong."
"Indeed? I had assumed you had a preference for the good Raphael. Am I to gather that something has gone amiss in your path to romance?"
Roxy snorted. "Not likely. They can hardly keep their hands off each other."
"Raphael is not the issue," I said with a bit of a red face at the thought of discussing my blossoming relationship with Raphael. I blush easily, a fact that annoys me more than a little, but I have yet to find a cure for it. "The point is that if the Dark One is not him, it must be someone else."
"We have a list," Roxy announced, digging through her purse. I remembered who was on the list and tried to catch her attention to dissuade her from reading it aloud, but wasn't in time. "Here it is. Let's see—Dominic is a no, you're a no, Raphael is a probably not, and Milos is the favorite."
My blush heated up a few notches as Christian gave me a cool, appraising look. "I didn't intend any offense," I explained. "More or less every man I've met has been on the list. We crossed you off it immediately."
"I am grateful for small mercies."
"However," Roxy cut in, "since you are the reigning king of the Dark Ones, we figure it should be a piece of cake for you to figure out who the man is who has marked Joy."
"According to Moravian lore," Christian said slowly, his finger rubbing his lower lip, "once a woman has been marked by a Dark One as his Beloved, she does not seek any other mate. Yet Joy seems unhappy with the thought of living her life with a man who will eternally worship her. I find this conflict intriguing."
"I doubt if you'd find it so intriguing if you were in my shoes," I answered. "I understand what you say about Moravian lore, but what I want to know is whether or not it's true. You say that each Dark One has one woman and one woman alone who is his soul mate. Has there never been an occurrence where the two don't get along, or there's two men for one woman, or vice versa?"
Christian shook his head. "Not that I am aware. It has always been one woman for one man."
"What happens if the one marked as Beloved does not wish to Join herself to the Dark One?"
Christian shrugged. "He continues on as he has done all the years before him. Darkness, eternal struggle, and damnation without the possibility of ever finding salvation—the torment simply continues. The Dark One can make the choice to end his torment by exposing himself to the sun, a drastic last step of desperation. It is not uncommon."
Roxy shivered. "Poor Dark One. I'd never leave him like that. Joy, you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I'm not saying I am abandoning this guy, whoever he is."
I objected, feeling utterly guilty and lower than a worm's belly. What sort of woman was I to damn a man to a black eternity just because he didn't do things to me that an amber-eyed Lothario did? "But first I want to know who the Dark One is. Then I can figure something out. Maybe there's been a cosmic mixup or something, switching soul mates between two sets of people."
"I don't think that's possible. Do you, Christian?"
He eyed me with consideration. "I have never heard of it happening, no."
" 'There a
re more things in heaven and earth,'" I quoted softly to him.
He smiled. "Very true."
"So do you think you can pick out the Dark One at the fair tonight?" Roxy prompted him. "Joy's going to do the rune stone readings, and you get to be one of her victims."
"Thanks," I said dryly.
"I am not sure," he answered Roxy's question. "I have little knowledge of those connected with the fair."
"You met Milos last night," I pointed out. "Wouldn't you have known if he was a Moravian then?"
"Possibly," he allowed.
"So—was he? What did you think about Milos?" Roxy asked.
He looked at Roxy for a moment, then switched his attention to the fireplace that blazed with a bright fire. "I believe that Milos is a man who is dangerous to women who are unescorted. As to whether he is a Dark One or not… a second look would not be amiss."
"Dangerous, huh?" Roxy nodded her head and popped a lemon drop in her mouth. She offered the package around before tucking it back into the Black Hole of Calcutta that doubled as her bag. "I agree one hundred percent. He looks like the type who'd take advantage of a woman."
"I believe the danger he poses goes a bit deeper," Christian answered.
I glanced at the clock. "Well, dangerous or no, we're going to have to be going, since Roxy signed me up to be the evening's entertainment. Thank you for answering our questions," I said as I rose.
His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes were watchful and worried.
"I would be happy to escort you again, if you are not tired of my presence."
Roxy almost fainted at the thought, but I managed to revive her by promising she could sit next to him in the front seat of his car. We arrived at the fair a short while later, amazed to see how many people were gathering.
"All right, you blackmailed me into this, but if I'm going to do it, there are going to be some ground rules," I told Roxy as we lined up in the queue waiting to buy tickets.
A Girls Guide to Vampires Page 16