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As you’ve pointed out—on several occasions now, not that I’m keeping track of such things—your expertise with matters of a more… delicate nature are superior to my own. Especially when it comes to the less fair sex. (I jest, naturally!)
To speak plainly, I fear I may have wounded Mr. Cresswell in a manner even his brava do would have trouble recovering from. It’s simply… he drives me utterly mad! He’s been a perfect gentleman, which is at once intriguing and maddeningin itself. Some days I’m sure we would live as happily as the Queen had with her be loved Prince Albert. Other moments I swear I feel my autonomy being ripped from my fingertips as he insists on protecting me.
However, back to the matter at hand: I scolded Mr. Cresswell greatly. He’d informed one of our professors that my constitution was not quite sturdy. Which doesn’t sound that outrageous, except it was the second time he’d tried to interfere with my independence. Such unmitigated gall! Our classmates were quite amused, though I was (and am) anything but. My angry response may have alienated Mr. Cresswell’s affections. Before you ask for the lurid details, I explained—quite harshly—that I would rather die alone than accept his hand. Were he of any mind to off
er it, that is.
Please assist me with any advice you may possess. I’m much better equipped to extract a heart than encourage one, it seems.
Your loving cousin,
Audrey Rose
P.S. How are you getting along in the country? Will you be heading to town soon?
FRONT LAWNS
PELUZA DIN FATA
BRAN CASTLE
3 DECEMBER 1888
Moldoveanu stood in the center of our small group, both his black cloak and silver hair flapping against the biting wind snapping through the mountains as he recited a prayer in Romanian.
Snow and ice fell steadily but no one dared complain. Right before Moldoveanu began the vigil, Radu had whispered that if it rained at a funeral, it was a sign the deceased was sad. I was thankful this wasn’t a funeral service, but didn’t know what to make of the weather and what its miserable state indicated about Wilhelm’s emotions in the afterlife.
My mind wandered—along with my eyes—as Moldoveanu continued his eulogy. Our newest classmate—and the replacement for Wilhelm—was a young man named Mr. Erik Petrov from Moscow. He appeared as if he’d been born of ice. He ignored the sleet coating his brow as we stood in a circle on the front lawns, our candles flickering behind cupped hands. Aside from the teachers, there were eight of us from the assessment course, plus Anastasia. Thomas hadn’t bothered to come.
In fact, I hadn’t seen him since he’d left Percy’s class earlier. Due to the worsening weather, Moldoveanu had postponed our anatomy lesson until after the vigil, and I wondered if Thomas would trouble himself by attending that. I pushed him from my thoughts and nestled into my duster. Snow found its way under my collar regardless. I blinked flakes from my lashes, trying my best to keep my teeth from chattering. I did not believe in ghosts but felt it was prudent to not annoy Wilhelm if he were indeed watching us from the great beyond.
Anastasia shifted closer, nose bright red and shiny. “This weather is groaznica.”
I nodded. It was most certainly awful, but so was the brutal manner in which Wilhelm had lost his life. A little snow and ice were nothing compared to the infinite cold his body now resided in. Nicolae stared at the woods, eyes glazed with unshed tears. According to Anastasia’s endless supply of castle gossip, he’d not spoken to anyone since the discovery of Wilhelm’s blood having been taken, though Andrei tried engaging with him often, unwilling to let his friend suffer alone.
It was surprising how tender Andrei could be when he’d been so horrid to Radu. Though I knew there were many sides to each person if one searched hard enough. No one was entirely good or evil, another fact I’d learned during the Ripper case.
Movement near the edge of the forest grabbed my attention. It was nothing more than a slight shift, as if something was slinking into the shadows. Images of bright golden eyes and black gums flashed through my mind. I chided myself internally. Werewolves weren’t surrounding our group of mourners, waiting to unleash a calculated attack. Just as vampires weren’t real.
Anastasia glanced at me, eyes wide. She’d seen it, too. “Maybe Radu was right. Maybe pricolici are lurking in the forest. Something’s watching us. Do you feel it?”
Hair rose on the back of my neck. Strange that she’d thought of the wolves, too. “More likely someone.”
“That is a terrifying thought.” Anastasia shivered so hard her candle flickered out.
“In light of the recent discovery regarding Wilhelm’s death,” the headmaster said in accented English, moving swiftly from remembrance to business, “no one is permitted off academy grounds. At least not until we uncover the true cause of death. A curfew will also be enforced to ensure your safety.”
Surprisingly, Andrei exchanged a glance with Anastasia.
“Has a threat been made against the academy?” Andrei’s accent was thick, sturdy. It suited him well.
Our headmaster met each of our gazes; this time no sneer was present on his face. If Moldoveanu was being kind, then something worse than a threat was coming for us. “We are taking precautionary measures. No threat has been made. Directly.”
Moldoveanu signaled for us to return to the castle. Giovanni and Vincenzo were the first to bound up the stone staircase and disappear inside, eager to find the best seats for anatomy class. I knew I should feel excited or nervous about the lesson, too. Those two permanent spots in the academy dangled before us all as if they were bones offered to starving mutts. And yet my thoughts kept straying toward the forest.
I turned around, watching the shadows move under the trees, as my classmates drifted up the stairs. I wondered who was out there, watching our small group, possibly hunting us like prey. Something sinister had happened to Wilhelm. My imagination, no matter how overactive of late, hadn’t conjured a vampire to drain him dry.
Some living monster had done that to him. I aimed to discover how. And why.
