Curiosity Killed The Cat

by T. H. Hunter

  “Do you think the Slayers could be behind it, Doctor?”

  “I am almost certain of it, Miss Flynn. Think. There aren’t many vampires left. Who benefits the most from our petty squabbles and our violent quarrels? The Slayers, naturally. Their new leadership has proven that they are absolutely ruthless. They will go to any length, as you yourself were forced to witness. Because you have the Scarlet Curse, you cannot even set foot outside of this castle anymore without risking your life. I am willing to wager that an agent of theirs has infiltrated the castle. Indeed, that is the only explanation. You have already proven that you are very resourceful, Miss Flynn. And I trust that you operate best when you move freely. If you need help, get in contact with Prince Raphael or the Knights directly from now on.”

  “But what about you?” I asked.

  Doctor Yurasov smiled sadly.

  “I am getting old, Miss Flynn. Seeing you both fight in the tournament showed me that. My skills are better employed elsewhere. I will do my utmost to convince the Council and the noble families to remain peaceful. That we should not be divided by our common enemy.”

  ***

  I had a single lead, the one that Jayden had provided. The enigmatic trader called Barilar, who lived in the village.

  The next day, I walked down there, accompanied by Lynn and Steve. I had told them all about my meeting with Doctor Yurasov.

  “He really trusts you, doesn’t he?” Steve had said.

  I didn’t quite know why myself. Perhaps it had been the way we had met. Or perhaps because I kept sticking my nose into things that didn’t concern me. But now, with his official sanction to continue poking around, I certainly wasn’t going to stop.

  We reached the outskirts of the village after a brisk walk down the hill. It took some time before we found Barilar’s shop, since he didn’t have a sign, but several locals were helpful enough in pointing us in the right direction.

  We knocked on the door. A stout man opened the door. He looked ragged, with a grey-brown stubble and wild hair. He couldn’t have been much younger than 50, though it was hard to tell. His skin was rough and leathery, no doubt due to constant exposure to the weather. He was wearing a look of surprise, though certainly not of anxiety. Instead, he welcomed us into his hut.

  We entered a large blacksmith’s workshop with a forge at its centre, next to which stood an anvil, a large basin and benches with a diverse array of hammers and tools.

  The man pulled up a few stools for us to sit on, while he leant against the woodwork.

  “Cine esti?”

  “Sorry, do you speak English?” I asked.

  “A bit only. Who are you?”

  “We’re students from Cranvin Castle. Are you Mr. Barilar?

  He nodded.

  “We were wondering whether your recognised this?”

  I had brought my one remaining silver figurine with me. I handed it to him.

  His face lit up immediately.

  “Ah, you buy?”

  “No, we just want to know who makes them,” I said.

  Barilar suddenly laughed. He beckoned me to follow him. Steve and Lynn looked rather uncomfortable but said nothing. I didn’t sense any trickery from him but, as in swordfighting, you never knew when your opponent was luring you into a false sense of security.

  From a small cupboard nearby, he produced a wooden box. He carried it into the centre of the workshop, placed it on the ground and opened it.

  It was full of the same silver figurines in all sorts of varieties. There must have been hundreds of them in this box alone.

  “You’re the maker?” Lynn asked, flabbergasted.

  “Yes, yes, I make them. You want?”

  “No, thank you. But we would like to know who bought them before us,” I said.

  It took a while to understand what he meant, but he explained to us the exact process of how they had been ordered. The very first time, over a year ago now, he had found a basket in front of his door with anonymous instructions for the order. As the payment had been made in advance, however, he had felt obligated to go through with it. He had created the figurines and placed the requested amount in the basket in front of his door at the given date. They had vanished by the following morning.

  “So you don’t know who the buyer is?” I asked.

  Barilar shook his head in irritation but then seemed to remember something.

  “I still have first note,” he said triumphantly.

  After several minutes’ worth of rummaging through old boxes, he finally produced a crumpled piece of paper.

  “Do you mind if we take it?” I asked.

  He nodded, making pushing motions with his hands, then laughed, saying: “You tell me when you know.”

  “We will, thank you very much, Mr. Barilar.”

  Outside of the workshop, I opened the note immediately. It sported rough drawings of the figurines with measurements. There were very few words, reading:

  Request 200 by Monday in four weeks.

  Put in basket in front of the door.

  Payment in cash below this note. More orders in future.

  “That’s it?” Lynn asked disappointedly.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning the paper around. “Nothing else.”

  Dispirited, we made our way back to the castle. We were no inch nearer to finding Doctor Wiley’s killer.

  ***

  For the following days, the looming exams were all anyone could talk about. We had about two more months left, as they were to take place in late December, just before the end of our first term. The long winter term break lasted from Christmas to early spring. Many students would return to their families then. For me, however, there would be no reason not to stay on. My last remaining relative was my mother, but as her ‘delivery’ had been a fake, I hadn’t been in contact for years.

  Due to the tournament, I had a lot of catching up to do, however. I just couldn’t concentrate on the tasks at hand. I wasn’t worried about Doctor Matei’s class, but most of others were another matter. It was hard to concentrate on complicated pieces of Vampiric law or architecture when my mind kept jumping to the question of who was behind it all. Who the Slayers’ agent within Cranvin Castle was. I wasn’t particularly fearful, but the fact that the Slayers had picked me as their prime target previously was not a consoling thought. Most of the staff and students, apparently, were thinking along the same lines.

  At regular intervals, teachers would suddenly turn up out of nowhere. They usually had some sort of excuse, but I knew they were really checking up on me, as they were always tremendously relieved to find me outside in the grounds, pouring over study books, or in one of the common rooms. I found myself rarely going down to the village, though when I did visit my grandfather’s grave, I noticed that half a dozen gargoyles were never far off.

  It was a life that was increasingly devoid of freedom. And I hated it. Though I was primarily concerned with preventing any further murders from happening, my own situation gave me an additional incentive to catch the killer.

  Certainly, it had to be someone with enough access, someone who could move around the castle without arousing any suspicion. Someone perfectly placed to distribute the figurines throughout the castle. In contrast to most students, a teacher was in such a privileged position. They regularly went down to the village to get all sorts of supplies and new materials for their classes.

  I was deep in thought, on my way back to the East Tower, when I suddenly bumped into a pair of strong arms and broad shoulders. My heart flipped. It was Raphael.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “So, congratulations on winning the tournament.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “You were quite brilliant, you know.”

  He shook his head. It wasn’t out of any sense of false modesty, I think he just operated on a totally different standard for himself than anyone else did.

  “Vox almost had me there. That shouldn’t have happ
ened. He fought like a dancing dervish,” he said.

  “I never knew Vox was a fighter,” I said.

  “Oh yes, though he admittedly doesn’t look it. But he always was an excellent fighter. I’ve fought against him loads of times, though only once before in a tournament setting.”

  “He seemed totally crazy. D’you think he…” I said, but broke off.

  Raphael paused, looking at me.

  “What?”

  “D’you think he was on something?” I asked.

  “It’s a matter of honour not to cheat in the tournament,” he said, as if that settled the matter.

  “You’re not saying no, though, are you?” I said, laughing.

  “It’s quite a serious allegation. One I would only make with some evidence. An overdose of the Elixir we take every day here at the castle could also cause similar symptoms. You want to walk a bit?” he asked casually.

  “Sure, but I need to drop off some books. I’ll be right back.”

  I hurried to my room and dropped off the books I was carrying, heading back to the landing where I’d left Raphael.

  As soon as we started moving, I noticed he was limping quite badly.

  “You’re hurt,” I said.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing to me. Is it from the tournament?”

  “Yeah. It’s still healing. Vox got me right on the kneecap. He had even more speed than you did.” He smiled me. “Let’s spar sometime. I could use a decent training partner. If you’re up to it, of course.”

  His expression was mischievous. My heart was racing. Was this his quirky, princely way of asking me out? I tried to remain calm. I didn’t want to appear needy. I didn’t want to scare him away.

  “Yeah, you bet. Doctor Yurasov told me to report to you for further developments. You know, because of the Wiley murder.”

  I told him about my discussion with Doctor Yurasov, as well as the blacksmith in the village and the mysterious order he had received for making the figurines. Raphael was deep in thought, his handsome, aristocratic face unreadable.

  “So, d’you think I should keep poking?” I asked.

  “Definitely. But be careful, Rebecca. Yurasov was right, there’s a lot more to this whole thing. My – my father made a lot of enemies in his time. Some deserved, some not. We won’t be able to save him. He’s dying. And once he’s gone, the tenuous peace among the vampires will break.”

  “But couldn’t you unite them?”

  “That is Yurasov’s idea, yes. I’ve been travelling a lot lately, trying to persuade the noble families all over the continent to remain loyal to the throne once my father passes away. It’s obscene to do so before he has died, I know, but it’s necessary. I’ve got to set off for France tomorrow, in fact. Yurasov’s coming with me. But we’ll only truly see where people’s loyalties lie once … once the King is dead.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “I’m so sorry, Raphael. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

  “There aren’t many people we can trust, Rebecca. You’re our most valuable asset. Keep digging, but for God’s sake keep a low profile. You’re going to be the prime target, at least as soon as the Slayers’ figure out a way to capture you alive. So whatever you do, don’t leave the castle and don’t go anywhere alone if you can help it. And arm yourself at all times from now on. Ask Sarah, she’ll give you access to the Knights armoury. A dagger and a rapier should do the trick. Make sure their silver, too.”

  “D’you think a vampire would betray another vampire to the Slayers?” I asked.

  “It’s happened before. It may happen again. And the Criswell’s can offer a lot to anyone who turns traitor.”

  “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Rebecca,” he said. “I couldn’t live with myself if… if anything happened to you.”

  And for the briefest of moments, he looked as though he was going to kiss me. My body vibrated with tension and anticipation. But then, the moment had passed. And Raphael looked all duty and no play again.

  “Be safe,” he said.

  “You, too.”

  It was awful to see him leave. I longed to be with him, to be close. Yearned for his touch. Perhaps, I thought miserably, when all of this was over, there’d be a way.

  17

  As always, the time seemed to be passing much faster just when the exams were approaching. And with all of the things going on, let’s just say the priorities in my life had shifted. How was anyone going to concentrate on tables and graphs when there was a killer on the loose in the castle, trying to figure out how best to kidnap me? But, as Lynn had told me after I had impatiently flung my Alchemy book at the hearth of our common room, it wouldn’t help if I failed my classes and had to worry about having to retake the year in addition to everything else. She was right, of course. And although Raphael had been gone for some time now, Scarlet Knights were on it. In any case, I had met a dead end with the trader Barilar in the village. There was always the possibility of him lying, of course, but I doubted that somehow. If he was telling the truth, I didn’t know what the next step would be. So, grudgingly, I set my mind to the task.

  The library was by far the busiest place these days, with many students – mostly first years – pouring over old treatises and heavy medical manuals. Unsurprisingly perhaps, despite the better immune system of vampires, some sort of stomach bug was spreading throughout the castle, no doubt due to the immense pressure to perform well in the exams, as well as the fact that most students spent hours on end in tightly-packed rooms. Dozens of people had reported to the hospital, though Steve, Lynn, and I had luckily been spared.

  I was pretty much all set for Doctor Matei’s class, as I could use a lot of my previous tournament research for both the theoretical and practical parts of her exam. Master Gorgos, on the other hand, had decided to test us on what felt like the entire library section on architecture and engineering. Vampiric Law was no laughing matter either. Worst of all, for some reason, had been Stealth with Doctor Linton, however.

  Hiding behind bushes or applying camouflage was easy enough. Yet as soon as we got into actual shapeshifting, I just couldn’t do it. Lynn, who was usually quite clumsy, excelled in his class to everybody’s surprise.

  One afternoon, when Lynn and were practicing in an empty classroom in the South Tower, she even managed to turn partially invisible for just a few seconds – a massive and almost unheard of success for a first year. I was glad for her, though I just wished I wasn’t so abysmal at it. For some reason, I just couldn’t do it. It was becoming some sort of mental block.

  There was a knock on the door of the classroom. A white-haired man entered.

  “*Ello, what’s goin’ on in ‘ere, then?”

  It was Mr. Harrow, the janitor, though without his son this time.

  “Hello, Mr. Harrow,” I said. “We were just practicing in here, hope that’s ok.”

  He looked at me, a peculiar look on his face.

  “Hey, you’re the girls who ‘ad that there run in the storage room a few months ago.”

  “That’s right,” Lynn said.

  He peered at us, then broke into a broad smile, as if he was only now truly recognising who we were.

  “Flynn and Adams. Yes, I remember. ‘ope that Mrs. Prill didn’t give you too much trouble. Nasty piece of work, she is.”

  We laughed.

  “So you’re training, eh? Well, girls, strictly speakin’, you shouldn’t be doing it ‘ere...”

  “Sorry, Mr. Harrow,” Lynn quickly interjected. “We didn’t know where to go. All the library floors and common rooms are packed with people.”

  He paused briefly, his white hair not quite covering his furrowed brow.

  “Tell you what, I know jus’ the place for you two. Come over here to the window a minute and I’ll show you. See that there tower right at the other end of the castle? That’s the Old Lab Tower, or sometimes jus�
�� called the Abandoned Tower these days. Before they redid the central keep – you know, next to the Great ‘all – they did a lot of alchemy and medical stuff up there. Nobody uses it now, though, ‘cept for dumpin’ old equipment perhaps. Nobody’d disturb you there. An’ you can practice all day long.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Harrow,” I said. “We’ll do that.”

  He smiled at me.

  “No problem.”

  ***

  As the days trickled away in endless hours of reading, swatting, and taking notes, I found myself reasonably prepared for most exams. I wasn’t going to hit the top of the year by any means, but it would have to do. Except for Doctor Linton’s class.

  Lynn had offered to help me with it, and Steve, though quite adept himself, joined in for some extra practice, or perhaps he just enjoyed watching me struggle with it. In exchange, I’d help them with swordfighting.

  “You’ve got to focus inward,” Steve was saying one afternoon, sitting on an old desk.

  We had been at it for hours. Most classrooms were packed with study groups these days, so we had followed Mr. Harrow’s recommendation and had gone to the Abandoned Tower.

  It certainly lived up to its name. Cobwebs and dust covered almost every inch of it. Classrooms and laboratories had been stripped of most of its furniture and instruments, which was quite convenient for our purposes. Lots of space, and nobody around to comment on how the “first-year menace” was red in the face and, lamentably, still as visible and solid as ever. It also had the added benefit of keeping us well away from the packed libraries which had earned the deserved nickname of germ distribution centres, GDC for short, amongst the students during the past days.

  “Here,” Lynn said. “I’ll show you, Beccs.”

  Without effort, she stepped forward, twirling on the spot, and her shape instantly became see-through. She was getting better and better by the day. It wouldn’t be too long before she’d start turning completely invisible.

  “You’ll turn Linton to shame one day, Lynn,” Steve said appreciatively.