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“Nice try, sweet brother.” Daciana patted his cheek lovingly. “Do try to maintain the appearance of being a gentleman.”
I bid Thomas good night as I climbed the stairs alone to my tower. Once inside, the fragrance hit me straight away. I entered my bathing chamber and halted.
Flower petals so deeply red they appeared black floated on top of scented water, steam lifting itself in great huffs; someone had just filled the tub and sprinkled intoxicating essences in. Daciana’s gift was scented petals—quite a luxury for a forensic student in the mountains.
I removed my gloves and gently stroked the surface of the water, enjoying the ripples left in my fingers’ wake. My body screamed with desire. I couldn’t wait to soak in the bath. It had been such a long day, and the corpse of Wilhelm had been awful… A bath would rinse it all away, cleansing and comforting.
I glanced at a clock above the mantel in this room. It was almost twelve-thirty. I could luxuriate in the water for half an hour and be in bed before it was too horridly late. Without further thought, I unbuttoned the front of my gown and let it hit the floor, thankful it was something I could do without assistance. My maid from home and I had purposely chosen simple dresses that I could manage on my own; I didn’t think the academy would offer a personal attendant.
I stepped from my satin layers and into the hot water, the liquid enveloping me like molten lava as I pinned my hair to my crown and sank down to my shoulders. The water was so warm my skin prickled at first, unsure if the new sensation was good or bad.
It was most decidedly very good for my sore muscles. I groaned at how soothing it felt.
For a few relaxing breaths, my mind drifted in any direction of its choosing. For a scandalous moment, I imagined Thomas soaking in his own tub and wondered what the planes of his bare shoulders looked like as they met the steam. Would he give me a cocky grin like the one he wore in public, or would that rare glimpse of vulnerability be present on his sensuous mouth before he pressed it to my own?
Heart pounding, I splashed the perfumed water on my face. The scoundrel held power over my senses when he wasn’t even around. I prayed he wouldn’t be able to deduce my wanton daydreams in the morning.
As I pushed those thoughts from my mind, darker ones filled in the crevices. Each time I closed my eyes I saw the corpses of the slain prostitutes from the Ripper murders, their bodies torn savagely apart. Whenever I was alone, I’d revisit their crime scenes, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. Some other clue I’d overlooked that could have stopped him sooner. Regret wouldn’t bring the dead back, this I knew, yet I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly reexamining my actions.
“What if” were the two most tragic words in existence when paired together. “If only” were no better when coupled off. If only I’d seen the signs sooner. Perhaps I could have…
Whirl-churn. Whirl-churn.
I lurched from the bath, water dripping noisily from my naked body into the tub. Each drop seemed to echo in the small chamber, spiking my adrenaline like mortuary needles. I held my breath and listened hard, waiting for that unmistakable sound to reveal itself once more. A few twigs cracked and popped in the fireplace, and I jumped, nearly slipping on the slick surface of the tub. I breathed in, then out, listening as blood pounded my ears.
Nothing. I’d heard nothing.
There was no steam-powered heart. No sinister laboratory. No flesh-covered machinery. Just my mind taunting me with images I wished to forget as I drifted between sleep and waking. I lifted a trembling hand to my head, noticing how my skin burned beneath my touch. Gooseflesh puckered along my arms and legs. I hoped I hadn’t contracted whatever Wilhelm had been wrecked by.
I glanced around until I found my orchid-dyed dressing robe, hanging from a hook on the door. I slipped the cool silk on, fighting shivers as I exited the bathing chamber. I was thankful I hadn’t gotten my hair wet. I pressed my hands to my center, willing my nerves to steady.
And that’s when I heard it. A sound that was not brought on by specters haunting my half-sleeping thoughts. Whispered voices came from the next room. I was sure of it. The room where the bodies were stored. I moved quietly to the bedroom wall and laid my ear against it. Someone was having a rather heated fight, though it was physical, not verbal, from what I could deduce.
Something smacked against the wall, and I drew back, pulse roaring. Was it a body?
Curiosity was a disease that plagued me, and I’d yet to find a cure. Deciding that I would learn nothing by staying where I was, I moved into the sitting room, plucked a poker from the fireplace, and slowly inched my door open. I could barely think with the chorus of anxiety singing through my veins. Thankfully, there was no telltale creaking as I drew the door wider; my heart might have burst if there was. I waited a beat, listening intently, before sticking my head into the hall, the poker gripped tightly in my damp hands.
Without further hesitation, I crept down the corridor, sticking to the shadows, and paused before a partially closed door. I heard the rustling of material, followed by a soft groan. I imagined some horror taking place. Which seemed to be a reality as the muffled sounds coming from the room intensified. Someone gasped, only to have the noise smothered from existence—a candle being snuffed in the night.
I found my own breath coming in sharp intakes. Had the murderer from the train followed us here? Perhaps the rustling noise was the sound of a homicide in progress. My rational mind told me to go back to bed, that my imagination was running mad once more, but I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure.
I moved toward the noises, gripping my weapon, as my blood thrashed in my veins. I was almost at the door to the morgue, which was open a crack. I inched around to peer inside. One more step. My breathing hitched, but I refused to yield. I braced myself for something dreadful and craned my neck around the doorframe. Flashes of another time when I crept into a place I shouldn’t have swept across my thoughts. I paused, allowing myself another breath. This was not the Ripper case. I was not about to uncover his depraved laboratory.
It seemed I would never learn my lesson and run for help before diving into turbulent waters. I steeled my nerves and pushed the door open a bit more. I swore my heart was running in the opposite direction.
I would scream as loudly as I could and wield my poker. Then I’d run.
I readied myself for the worst as I glanced inside. Two figures were locked together, in a darkened corner, hands drifting over each other everywhere as if they were… I gasped.
“I I’m so sorry.” I blinked, completely and utterly unprepared for the sight before me. “I thought—”
Daciana dabbed at her crimson mouth with her free hand, face flushing as she released the skirts bunched in her other fist. “I… I can explain.”
BODY STORAGE, TOWER CHAMBERS
DEPOZIT DE CADAVRE, CAMERE DIN TURN
BRAN CASTLE
