There was a long silence. Then Mr. Arkady nodded at her.
“I am sorry, ladies. But I’m afraid there is proof,” Lord Johnny said gently. “That is how Theo and I got this assignment: the last person charged with observing the Florescus died a few months ago. In his final message, he said that he had been discovered. He named your uncle Horia specifically as having threatened him. His body was found in the woods near Rasnov a week later.”
“Is that why you approached me, in London?” Dacia’s voice cut across the thick silence in the room. Her eyes were fixed accusingly on Lord Johnny. “Not because you’d always wanted to meet an American heiress? Not because I seemed bold enough to undertake ‘a little adventure,’ as you called it. But because you had been told to watch my family?”
Lord Johnny ducked his head, unable to meet Dacia’s eyes.
“So that’s the real reason why you asked me to accompany you to Gretna? Not because you were supposed to watch that man, but because you were watching me?”
“Oh, no!” Lord Johnny looked up, eager to redeem himself. “That was true! I do work for the Home Office, and they did need me to follow that man. He’s been selling secrets to a faction of Scottish separatists! He’s the one who told the press I had gambling debts, to try to ruin my credibility. I asked you to help because I thought that you seemed game for it.” He winced at the way the words sounded. “At the time I wasn’t assigned to . . . I mean, I knew of your family, but wasn’t supposed to . . . I just thought you would think it was fun . . .”
“Oh,” Dacia said, mustering a small amount of her usual dignity. “That’s all right then. If it’s true.”
“It is true,” Arkady said. “He was taken to task by our superiors for it. We are not supposed to get quite that close to any of our subjects. Even if we are not specifically assigned to watch that particular, ah, person.”
Dacia leaped to her feet, nearly dumping Lou off the sofa. Lou’s shawl slipped off and she scrambled to recover it. To her relief no one was watching her: all eyes were on Dacia, whose face blazed with anger and pain.
“Very well,” she snapped. “Now you’ve answered our questions, and we thank you. Please leave. We have done nothing wrong, and I will not be the subject of another crass investigation. If you want to help us, keep Mihai away. If you don’t want to help, just go. Lou and I are leaving for Buda-Pesth as soon as may be, and this will be nothing but a horrible memory.”
“Dacia, please,” Lord Johnny begged. “I never meant to hurt you! Of course you aren’t under investigation! As soon as I met you I assured my superiors that you were innocent. I don’t know what horrible things you’ve witnessed, but I know that you have no part in any of the horrors that your relations perpetuate! You are young ladies of breeding, not monsters!”
“Good day, Lord John,” Dacia said. She continued to stand, very straight, while the young lord and his companion, baffled by her harsh expression, made their good-byes.
Lou did her best to smile graciously from her precarious position on the sofa. She was sure that the shawl was not covering much of anything at this point, but the gentlemen were too polite to ogle. Mr. Arkady averted his eyes as he retrieved his coat, and by the time they left, Lou was blushing in places she hadn’t known a person could blush.
“What do you make of it all?” She waited until they were quite alone to say anything.
Dacia was still staring at the wall across the parlor. At Lou’s question, she slowly collapsed to the floor.
“We’re monsters, LouLou,” she said. And then she didn’t speak again.
Lou rang for the maid.
“Have a footman carry Miss Dacia to her room,” she ordered when Nadia entered. “She’s had a shock. And help me into my clothes. Yes, right here! I need to make arrangements to leave Bucharest as soon as possible, so don’t bother unpacking our trunks. And no, I don’t have any message to send to Lady Ioana.” Lou stopped, and took a ragged breath as the girl turned to find a footman. “Wait! I do! Get me a footman, help me dress, and then send a telegram to the estate in Sinaia.”
“What would you like it to say, miss?”
Lou felt a smile spreading across her face. The maid’s normally smug expression faded as she saw that smile. “The Queen of the Claw and the Last Smoke bid you farewell. Stop. They shan’t return. Stop.”
THE DIARY OF MISS DACIA VREEHOLT
15 June 1897
My name is Dacia Katarina Vreeholt. And I am not a monster.
My name is Dacia Katarina Vreeholt. And I am not a monster.
My name is Dacia Katarina Vreeholt. And I am not a monster.
My name is Dacia Katarina Vreeholt. And I am not a monster.
My name is Dacia. My name is Dacia. My name is Dacia.
I am not a monster.
STRADA SMARDAN
The maid helped her into bed, and Dacia decided to stay there. She was comfortable, she was warm, and she was safe. There was no need for her to ever leave her bed again. This would be for the best. If she never left her bed, then there would be no one to call her a monster, no one to point fingers at her. She cuddled the blankets around her neck, savoring the smell of lavender and the smoothness of the linen. Yes. She would stay here.
Somewhere, outside her room, Lou was making plans for them. She loved Lou, both the old Lou and the new one, and she trusted that Lou would do the right thing. If Lou told her it was time to get out of bed, she would, but until that moment, she would just lie here and pretend that the last month of her life had never happened. No Mihai. No Lady Ioana. No Lord Johnny.
If they made it back to New York, Dacia would ask the new Lou to get them that apartment on Fifth Avenue. The new Lou would do it, she felt sure. They could live there very quietly, and never have to see their mothers again.
After a while Dacia dozed.
When she woke up she was disoriented. Her mouth felt awful and sticky, and she was very hungry. She wiped at her gritty eyes and sat up, trying to look around, but the curtains blocked any light.
Dacia had always hated napping. She always woke up feeling more tired, and grubby besides. Today was no exception, and she had the added problems of not wanting to leave her bed and not knowing where anyone was. The house felt far too still.
Surely Lou had not gone out without her? But perhaps she had, to purchase train tickets, or to visit the Szekelys. Dacia would miss them, but she would rather appear rude by not telling them good-bye than risk them learning about her true nature. Her stomach growled, though, at the thought of the tea cakes the Szekelys were probably offering Lou, and she decided that staying in bed didn’t mean starving. She stretched one hand out of the blankets to ring the bell.
Two minutes later, she heard the door open.
“I’d like a glass of cool water, please, Nadia,” she said. “And something sweet. Is there any cake?”
Nadia didn’t answer, but Dacia heard the girl approach the bed. She smelled something beyond the odor of the lavender and starch on the sheets. To her acute nose it didn’t smell like Nadia, it smelled like sweat . . . male sweat. She struggled to sit up, tangled in the sheets.
“Hello, Dacia,” said Radu.
“Oh, Radu! Must you keep startling me this way?” She threw a pillow at him. He dodged it.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You should be,” she grumped, lying down again.
“No,” Radu said. “I’m sorry for this.”
And he scooped her up, blankets and all, and carried her from the room.
She writhed and kicked, calling out to Nadia as they passed the maid in the corridor. But the girl just scurried away and the footman stared blankly at the opposite wall. Radu carried Dacia right out of the house and into the late afternoon sunlight, where a carriage waited. He threw her inside and followed, slamming the door shut behind them. As soon as the door was closed, the carriage lurched into motion, driving at breakneck speed through the streets of Bucharest.
“What are you doing? Take me back right now
!”
She punched Radu in the chest, bruising her knuckles and making his breath come out in an oof. He just huddled against the back of the seat, though, and didn’t look at her. There wasn’t much to look at, since it was a closed carriage and all the shades were tied down. She snatched at the door handle, and Radu reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t,” he said. “You’ll fall and get hurt. And you’re not dressed.”
She realized that part of the reason why he wasn’t looking at her was embarrassment. She was in her drawers and a simple shift, but that was all.
“I’m wearing more than Lou was when Lord Johnny and Mr. Arkady came,” she snapped. “You remember them, they’re the gentlemen who came to find out how many people your father has killed . . . ?”
“What? Who came?” Radu’s face went paper white, in sharp contrast to his hair.
“Lord Johnny. And Theophilus Arkady. The gentlemen we met at Bran, and then at Peles. They work for an organization that has been watching our family. They know what we are, and they are trying to find out if Uncle Horia murdered one of their number.” She paused to let that sink in, then added, “Well, they know he did, and now they’re trying to stop him, and Lady Ioana, and the rest of our family from killing anyone else in the service of the Draculas!”
She hadn’t thought it possible, but Radu went even paler, looking directly at her for the first time.
“Damn Archangels,” Radu said. “What did you tell them?”
“Nothing,” Dacia said. “Nothing they didn’t already know. They’ve been watching the family for years . . . and you knew about them, didn’t you? You call them . . . Archangels?”
“Of course we know the Society of Saint Gabriel,” he sneered. Then his face changed. “Did they hurt you?”
She was startled by the very idea. Despite his secret agenda, Lord Johnny was still a gentleman! “No, they didn’t hurt me,” she snapped. “Unlike you, who tried to kill me last night! And now you’ve kidnapped me! What is going on, Radu?”
“I’m under orders,” he said, and now he looked away again.
“Whose orders? Lady Ioana’s?” She froze. “Where’s Lou?”
“This doesn’t concern Lou,” he said softly. “She’ll be all right.”
“Who gave you orders, Radu? Was it Mihai?” Her voice cracked on the name. “Radu, where are you taking me?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You’d better tell me, or I’ll turn into a wolf and bite you right now,” she said from between gritted teeth.
Radu looked straight into her eyes.
“Are you commanding me as the queen of my pack?”
Now it was Dacia’s turn to pale. She hadn’t really thought about what she was saying, but she’d regretted the threat as soon as she’d spoken it. She looked at Radu, at his hazel-gold eyes. He was watching her intently, leaning forward a little in his seat.
Here was power, she realized. She’d once enjoyed ordering around the young men of her acquaintance, having them bring her little gifts, flirt with her, dance with her. She’d ordered Radu around in quite the same way: he was her devoted slave, she the princess. And now it was true. She had beaten Aunt Kate.
Dacia was a queen.
“As the queen of your pack, I order you to explain this to me!”
He bowed his head. “My queen, I had no choice. I came to Bucharest to make certain that you and Lou were all right. My father, who is now at odds with Lady Ioana, sent me to escort you to Buda-Pesth and Uncle Cyrus.
“As soon as I arrived in the city I was stopped by one of Mihai’s servants and ordered to his house. He told me to abduct you and bring you to a hotel. You’ll be kept there until you agree to marry him.”
“And you’re going to do this?” She punched him again.
“I don’t have a choice,” he said miserably. “They’re going to . . . Mihai’s already sent word to Lady Ioana . . . they’re going to kill my father.”
“She wouldn’t!”
“Of course she would,” Radu said impatiently. “Don’t you understand? We exist to bring glory to the Draculas! If we fail, we have no reason to live.”
“Ridiculous,” Dacia told him. “We exist because we are from an old and noble family, one with great power. There is no decree from God that says we have to obey Mihai! He wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for us; he should be groveling at our feet, not the other way around.” She drew in a deep breath. “The Dracula family can go hang for all I care!”
Radu smiled at her sadly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, wanting to slap the smile from his face. “Stop this carriage at once. I’m commanding you, Radu, to take me back. Tell the coachman to turn around at once!”
“I can’t,” he said.
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I really can’t,” he told her. “The coachman isn’t—The coachman is Mihai’s uncle.”
“Aunt Kate’s lover, Mattias?”
“That’s right.” Radu made a ghastly attempt at a smile. “He usually doesn’t get involved, not since Lady Ioana sent Aunt Kate away. But now he’s perfectly ready to help.”
“Why . . . oh!” Dacia understood at once. “If Mihai can marry me . . .”
“Then there’s no reason to keep Kate and Mattias apart anymore.”
“Why did they have to be apart?” Dacia asked, wondering if she could distract him long enough to leap out at the next crossing. “I should think Lady Ioana would have been pleased.”
“The prophecy says two Florescu daughters would lead our family to glory,” Radu said.
“Out of the darkness and into the light,” Dacia corrected him. He nodded, like it was the same thing, but to Dacia’s mind it wasn’t the same at all.
“Their fathers were supposed to be from the New World,” he continued. “Lady Ioana sent her daughters to New York and ordered them not to come home until they’d . . . produced . . . two girls who seemed like likely candidates.”
“That’s awful,” Dacia said. The carriage had slowed but she didn’t even try to escape; she was too appalled by what he’d said. “Good heavens! It’s like she was breeding dogs!” Her cheeks burned with the absolute vulgarity of it all.
“You’ve met Lady Ioana,” Radu said, uneasy. He looked out the window, and didn’t relax until they had speeded up again. “Aunt Kate fought, in her own way, by refusing to marry at all, and Mattias has waited for her to return.”
“I’m very happy for them,” Dacia said.
She was trying to be facetious, but she realized that it was true. At least some good was coming of this all. She just hoped that Aunt Kate and her true love got to remain together, after she and Lou were gone. Because there was absolutely no way she would marry Mihai.
Dacia would die first; on that matter she was perfectly resolved.
The coach halted at last, and it dipped and creaked as the coachman got down. He opened the door a crack and peered inside. Dacia drew her blankets around herself with as much dignity as she could, remembering Lou’s example from earlier that day. It was late afternoon, and golden sunlight highlighted a handsome man with dark hair barely threaded with gray, a neat mustache, and a carefully blank expression.
“Let me out at once,” Dacia said.
“Very well, doamna,” the man said without a trace of irony. He helped her down with a courtly gesture, and then ushered her toward a tall building.
Dacia stiffened and put one hand to the neck of her shift. It was now or never.
“I think not, doamna,” Mattias Dracula said.
He raised his hand, and she saw the loaded pistol concealed in the folds of his overcoat. Dacia started to think herself into the body of the wolf anyway, but he jerked his chin and she realized: he wasn’t pointing the pistol at her. He was pointing it at Radu, who stood slump-shouldered beside her.
Dacia looked around for help. There were dozens of people on the street—they were in the middle of the shopping district.
She felt her cheeks start to burn with helplessness as much as embarrassment, and looked up as Mattias ushered them inside the oddly narrow building. The man at the desk smiled blandly as though he saw young ladies wearing only blankets enter his lobby every day, and Dacia wondered how much money Mihai had given him. Dacia used one of Aunt Kate’s Looks, and the man wilted as he showed them the elevator. It was so tiny that only Radu and Dacia could fit inside, but the stairs wrapped around it, and they watched Prince Mattias make his way up, trying to keep pace without appearing to hurry.
“Radu, you have to help me escape,” she whispered. “I order you to do so as your queen . . . and I beg you to, as your cousin.”
“I will,” Radu said. He was staring upward as the elevator rose, his face sickly in the barred light. “I don’t care anymore if they—if they kill me.”
“Go to Lord Johnny,” Dacia instructed. “He’s staying at the Hotel Bucharest. Tell him everything. About this, the plot against the king, whatever you know. We can’t let Mihai win.”
“I know,” Radu said.
With a loud clank, they reached the seventh floor. Radu opened the doors, but Prince Mattias hadn’t gotten to their floor yet. Radu closed them again, and tried to press the button for the first floor.
“I don’t think so,” Prince Mattias said. He reached the top just in time to grab the door and wrench it open. “One more flight, Your Majesty.”
He gestured with the pistol and they marched up one last narrow stair. At the top was a plain wooden door. Prince Mattias produced the key and opened the door with a flourish. The hall was so narrow that Dacia had to pass uncomfortably close to him to enter the room.
“Not you,” Mattias said when Radu tried to follow.
Before she could protest, Prince Mattias slammed the door and locked it from the outside.
Dacia looked around the small room with its slanted ceiling. It was what she imagined an artist’s loft would be like, with a simple bed shoved under one slope, a table and chair under another. There was a tiny but quite modern bathroom, and a broad balcony. She dropped her blankets and ran out onto the balcony. She could see the rooftops of Bucharest all around her; this weirdly narrow building was one of the tallest in the district. She looked down, thinking to call out to the passersby, but she was so high that she felt dizzy and had to step away from the balcony wall. She looked to either side of the balcony, wondering if she could climb down, but the roof slanted too sharply. She wouldn’t be able to escape as a wolf or as a young lady.
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