Zani pulled out her own compact and hastily applied the deep red lip color with a single swipe, taking care to wipe off any excess on a tissue. Conjuring a flame, she immediately ignited a corner and dropped it into the metal bin beside her to burn.
Although she’d made light of the danger to her friend Maida, Zani felt the familiar sizzle of nerves that accompanied every artifact recovery mission she set off on.
This wasn’t any old mission. She wasn’t risking her life for a common grimoire or a tainted tombstone. Tonight she’d be stealing back Catherine De Medici’s bloodstone amulet. It was the stuff of legends. How many times had the bloodstone disappeared in the last five centuries? None of that mattered, because here, at long last, deep in the Carpathian mountains, it had finally resurfaced. It was almost too good to be true.
She hoped she could still trust her informant, Cosimo, not to mislead her. He certainly seemed to want the stone almost as badly as she did. For her, it was a feather in her cap. One of many. For him, though, it was personal. He said he needed the stone to clear a curse. Was she foolish to agree to his terms? Possibly. But she wasn’t going to sleep on this opportunity. She’d had too many close calls with the bloodstone in the past. It always seemed to elude her.
There was still a fair chance it wouldn’t even be at the castle tonight. She’d believe it when she saw it.
Perhaps not even then. She would believe it when she held the stone in her own hand.
Zani glanced at the sky. The sun was just starting to dip below the dreary horizon. The leafless trees cast spidery shadows that crawled up the gray lace curtains and skittered across the peeling plaster walls. It was almost time to meet the village “matchmaker,” Madame Morosan, who had graciously offered to introduce Zani to some of the town’s famously reclusive bachelors. For a fee, of course.
“Exclusive introductions don’t come for free,” the hardened lady had insisted.
Zani sighed. Why was it that there was always an opportunistic Ordinary in every village like this? Some supposedly selfless and upright citizen who was willing to turn a blind eye to missing tourists and chalk up any malfeasance to the “degenerate” habits amongst immigrants and nomads. It couldn’t possibly be the cultured local nobles who were responsible.
Zani knew one truth from the old fairy tales. People like the Madame tended to get what they deserved in the end. It reminded her of the old Romanian proverb:“The one that digs someone else’s grave certainly falls there.”
She retrieved four silver coins from her bag and polished them with a small square of velvet cloth as she recited theAurum Illusiospell, and held them up in the sun’s dying light. How fortunate that the rain had stopped for long enough to allow the sun to peek through.
By sol’s last light and argent’s lie,
Let false gold gleam ’neath twilight sky.
The spell was much easier to complete during the golden hour. Even when there was little warmth to be captured, it was enough to make the four coins she meant to pay the madame with gleam with a golden glow. It would last for at least two days. By which time Zani would be far, far away.
Zani placed the coins in the back pocket of her jeans. There was no need to get dressed up, the Madame had assured her.
“The gentlemen love to spoil their guests. They have closets full of lavish designer clothing. They’ll let you try on and keep whatever you want.Ifyou catch their eye.” The Madame’s eyes had sparkled hungrily.
Did young women actually still fall for stupid stories like this?
Judging from the Madame’s expensive car, lavish jewelry, and overpowering French perfume, she suspected they did. But not for much longer.
Zani ran a finger along the sheath of a silver stake strapped to her thigh. She could access the stakes very quickly, casually even, by reaching into her pocket.
Before she left, she took one last glance around the room. Clothing and toiletries were scattered about haphazardly. A novel sat on the nightstand, half read by the looks of it. A tasseled bookmark was trapped beneath a half-empty glass of water. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled. A well-worn backpack lay across the foot of the bed, more clothing spilling out of it like guts. Several items were strewn on the chair by the dresser, as if she’d tried them on and decided against them. Two pairs of shoes cluttered the floor. One kicked off beneath the bed, and the other in the corner. Cosmetics and a bottle of perfume decorated the dresser’s surface.
It was all for show.
By all appearances, the room was occupied by a hurried traveller–one who hadn’t bothered to tidy up before heading out for an exciting night of fun. Certainly nothing hinted at her intention never to return.
She’d miss those shoes, though. Now that she saw the one embroidered bootie in the corner, she felt a brief pang of regret for not packing them up in the satchel Cosimo had secreted out for her the night before. She’d acquired those Boundless Booties in the old souk in Marrakech, back in her college days. The detail work on the blue flowers was exquisite and the leather was somehow buttery and pliant, yet sturdy enough to wear for hours of walking. She’d worn the boots for days in Paris, and museum-hopped her way through Florence and Mexico City in them. They adapted themselves to nearly any terrain or occasion. The only place they weren’t suited for was the sludge-filled streets of this town. So it made sense to leave them behind. It was a pity, though. She didn’t know whether she could find her way back to the shop where she bought them, if it even still existed.
But such was the cost of a conquest. She was willing to sacrifice her beloved boots in the pursuit of the bloodstone amulet and putting an end to the quiet carnage in this village.
The last rays of sun faded out as the pallid orb dipped below the horizon. Zani checked her reflection one last time in her trusty compact. The face she saw mirrored there was serious– dramatic and intent. With her pale skin, deep red lips and long black lashes, she might have been mistaken for a vampire.
But Zani’s heart beat firmly and steadily in her chest as she crept down the stairs and out into the alley. She touched the petite butterfly charm at her throat for good luck.
“Are you ready?” Cosimo slipped out from the shadows, holding the small Sensible Satchel full of items that she meant to take with her. He was standing downwind, maintaining a safe distance from her.
“I am.” She smiled prettily at the man, and batted her eyelashes, imitating an ingénue.
“Save it for the noble gentlemen.” Cosimo arched a brow. “I’m not your prey.”
Zani studied him, wondering yet again what it would take to sway him. Not that she ought to try. Cosimo was a sorcerer as well as a vampire. This wasn’t the first time one of his tips paid off in a big discovery for her. He’d been instrumental in several of her recent finds. Cosimo seemed to enjoy helping her out, which confused her. Perhaps he had more existential angst about his monstrous affliction than most vampires. But that didn’t change what he was. He might seem civilized in their dealings, but in fact he was a far more cunning and dangerous creature than the fledgling vampires she’d reclaim the bloodstone amulet from tonight.
