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“The castle is old, as are the tunnels you found,” Ileana said, tearing her attention away. “Maybe they’ve been breeding since Vlad’s time.”
“Maybe.” A charming thought indeed. “I think someone is breeding them, all right. Thomas said they’re called vampire bats, but they’re usually found in the Americas. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how it relates, unless it’s simply misfortune.”
“Perhaps the Impaler has a connection to the academy,” Ileana said, her focus stuck on the allegedly risen immortal prince. “The first murder occurred in the village. Then Wilhelm’s body was found there as well. If what Danesti said about threats being made against the royal family is accurate, then perhaps the Impaler was looking to create panic with the first two murders.”
“Or perhaps he was practicing.”
“Maybe he’s collecting blood,” she whispered.
My own blood chilled. The thought prodded the sensible part of my brain until other, more menacing ones sprouted to join it. It was certainly possible that a career murderer was living beneath this turreted roof, stealing blood for his own purposes.
Uncle’s theory on murderers involving themselves in the crimes flitted through my head. In a school composed of students and professors, who had more to gain from the murders? Unless the motivation was simply the thrill of the hunt. That bloodthirsty compulsion always terrified me the most. I wished Uncle were here now to discuss this with me. He always saw beyond the obvious.
Ileana had gotten so quiet that I started when she shifted off the stool. “You believe the Impaler exists?”
“Not in the literal sense, no,” I said. “I’m certain a very human person is re-creating methods of death made famous by Vlad Dracula. I do not believe—for one instant—he’s risen from the grave and is hunting anyone. That’s both preposterous and completely contrary to the laws of nature. Once someone is dead there is no way to reanimate them. No matter how much one wishes otherwise.”
I would not divulge how painfully familiar I was with the truth of my last statement. Fingers twitched across my memory, and I shoved the image away.
“Some villagers would disagree,” Ileana said quietly. “A few have gotten ill over the last couple of weeks. One girl has disappeared. They are certain a strigoi is to blame. Now Wilhelm’s body is discovered, his blood missing. They are not unaware of what that might mean.”
I began to comment on the village girl’s disappearance and stopped myself. I was ashamed to admit to sneaking into her home. I believed her case was simply an unfortunate one, brought on by drinking too many spirits and getting lost in the woods. No vampires or werewolves snatched her from the path.
“Do you know of anyone who’d want to shut the academy down?” I asked.
Draping her cloth over a galvanized bucket, Ileana tapped the sides, creating a hollow, echoing sound that ricocheted in my skull. I narrowed my eyes as she glanced toward the door and then swallowed. I was about to ask what was wrong when she hurried over to the settee. She pulled a leather-bound book from a pocket on her apron, handing it to me as one might pass on a reeking bedpan. I reluctantly took it.
“I… I know it’s wrong. But I found this journal. It was in Prince Nicolae’s room.” I lifted my gaze, but Ileana kept hers locked on the book and stammered on. “Remember when I told you servants are to be neither seen nor heard?” I nodded. “Well, it’s very easy for some of the more highborn students to forget we exist. Some think their fires magically light themselves, and their chamber pots grow wings to empty their waste.”
“I’m sorry people are so cruel.”
Her eyes were shards of ice before she blinked the expression away. “I’m not proud of filching the journal, but I heard him mentioning something about drawings. When I peeked inside, I saw awful images. Here.”
I flipped the leather journal open, scanning a few diagrams. Hearts, intestines, a human brain, and… bats. Skulls of bats with horrendous fangs. Bat wings with notes and details of claws at their apex. Each page proudly displayed a new section of a bat’s anatomy. I flicked my attention back to Ileana, whose gaze was locked on her hands.
“He’s got quite a few specimens in his chambers, too.”
“Why did mention of his drawings trouble you?”
Ileana wrung her hands. “I recalled what Danesti and Moldoveanu had said about the royal family receiving those threats. That they were drawings.”
I sat straighter, as if the movement would make what she’d said more palatable. Waves of nausea roiled my stomach. “He couldn’t possibly have sent those himself…”
“That’s why I looked. Then I saw the sketches of bats and noticed all the skeletons he has in his room… I don’t know why I took his journal. I just”—she shrugged—“I thought there might be more to see. And then I saw this one near the back.”
Reaching over, she turned the pages until she found what she’d been searching for. My breath stilled along with the rest of my body. A girl with onyx hair, eyes a deep emerald green, and lips that were dripping blood smiled boldly.
With my finger I traced the jawline up and around to the catlike eyes, then touched my own face. “I don’t—this cannot be me. He wouldn’t have had time to—”
Ileana turned to the next page. On it, drawn with great care, was the image of a girl wearing an apron splattered with gore, an autopsy blade poised above stark white flesh. I tore my gaze away. The cadaver was male, and no cloth covered his nude form. Heat flashed over my cheeks.
I hardly knew what to make of the crude drawings.
“There’s more.” Ileana showed me image after image. Each featuring me as a beautiful creature delighting in blood and death. The way the prince had captured me, it was as if he’d turned me into an immortal being, a little too perfect to be human. A bit too cold and hard for this fragile world. The flames in the fireplace flickered wildly, its heat suddenly sweltering. I longed to fling my windows wide, letting the cold wind of the Carpathians cleanse this space.
One final image had me sucking in a gasp. It was hard to tell exactly who the male was—either Thomas or Nicolae—but he and another Audrey Rose stood side by side. The young man wore a suit made of bones, holding an ivory skull as if it were an oracle to divine from. My bodice hugged my frame. The illustration was gorgeous, despite the large anatomical heart and circulatory system that branched from my chest, then wound its way down my arms and ran fingers to my skirts.
The black gloves in the drawing caught my attention next. Lace and swirls covered my arms as if they’d been inked permanently onto my skin. Ileana watched closely before pointing to the design on my arms. “Prince Nicolae’s arms are covered in ink. Not so delicate as these. But I’ve seen them when he rolls his sleeves back.”
