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After he’d chased the last bat off into the darkness, he plucked something from my shoulder and tossed it aside. “Are you all right, Wadsworth?”
We had just been attacked by a hellish nightmare turned reality. Warmth trickled down my neck. I had more cuts than I dared to think of at the moment. Instead of voicing all of that, I laughed. Surely this was something not even Poe could dream up.
Despite the horror, I felt flushed with the heat of excitement. Blood thrummed through my veins, amping up my heart, reminding me of how powerful I was. Of how wonderful it was to be alive.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to speak again unless I said the magic phrase, Cresswell.”
His shoulders slumped, dropping the tension he’d been carrying along with them. “Being attacked by vampire bats is a good enough excuse to break my own rule.” He frowned at the blood seeping through my gloves. “Plus, I already know I’m the most handsome young man in your life.” A rogue bat dived for him, and I swatted it away. “Those bats aren’t native to Romania.”
“I had no idea you were also a chiropterologist,” I said blandly. “Is this how you impress all the young ladies?”
He surveyed me with interest. “
Well, I had no idea you knew the scientific term for bat study.” He removed his long morning coat and offered it to me. It was warm and smelled of roasted coffee and fresh cologne. I resisted the urge to breathe in the comforting scent.
“Your brain is quite appealing. Even in the face of all this.” He waved at the closed door, grin fading a bit. “By far my favorite asset of yours. But yes. I’ve studied them enough to recognize those as vampire bats. I haven’t a clue who’d want to breed them.”
Even snuggled within Thomas’s coat, I loosed a shiver that had been teasing my flesh. This castle was more treacherous than I’d thought. “I wonder what other charming manner of wildlife we’ll find down those tunnels.”
My mind snagged on a detail from Moldoveanu’s conversation with Danesti. I described the entire exchange to Thomas as fast as I could, words tumbling out.
“Why would the book Danesti was talking about have anything to do with these passages? Do you think it contains hints to where all of the doors and tunnels lead?”
“Perhaps.” Thomas glanced from me to the two dark tunnels behind us. For once his expression was easy to read. We’d just found a body and were attacked by bats. Now wasn’t the time to wander this far below the castle without first arming ourselves with knowledge and physical weapons. “We should do some research. Come. I know the perfect place.”
We’d sneaked back to our rooms and scrubbed most of the blood from our faces. I had also returned Thomas’s morning coat, not wanting to elicit any unwanted questions or attention should we run into anyone at this hour. Now, in a shadowy hallway in the castle’s west wing, we stood before two oak doors that were carved in all manner of beasts, both mythical and all too familiar. Although no plaque had been erected in his honor, I imagined dracula’s bloody library in bold Gothic letters all the same.
Torches set into wrought-iron urns stood proudly on each side, both inviting visitors and warning them to behave while in the library. I spotted a few flying bats within the door’s design and tugged them open. “If I never see another one of those ghastly creatures again, I’ll die a happy girl.”
Thomas chuckled softly beside me. “Yes, but the way you slapped away the one attacking me was so valiant. Shame I’ll never get to witness such ferocity again. Perhaps we can go bat hunting at least once a year. But then we’ll have to set them free, naturally. They’re too adorable to harm.”
I paused before crossing the threshold. “They tried to drink our blood, Cresswell. ‘Adorable’ is hardly the word I’d use.”
I swept into the room, then halted, hand fluttering to my center. The ribbed vault of the cathedral ceilings made me think of stone spiders whose long legs crawled down the walls. Stone ogival archways housed aisles of books.
This was by far the grandest library in the castle; the one in which I’d found the book about mortuary practices was much smaller. Leather and parchment and the magical scent of ink on pages overwhelmed my senses. Wrought-iron chandeliers—made of the same design as the hallway urns—hung from the web of gray stone above them. It was foreboding and intriguing at once. Part of me wished to spend hours within its shadowy alcoves, and part of me longed to secure a weapon. Anyone or anything might be hidden within the gloomy nooks.
I closed my eyes for a moment. While addressing our cuts, Thomas and I had decided to delay notifying anyone about the body we’d discovered. It went against every fiber in my being to leave that poor girl’s remains in that terrible place, but I did not trust Moldoveanu. He’d likely punish or expel us for exploring the castle’s secrets. Thomas also argued that it might alert us to who else knew about the passages if her body was discovered. I’d reluctantly agreed under one condition: If her body wasn’t found by the next afternoon, we’d leave an anonymous note.
Someone sneezed several aisles away, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. My body froze. We weren’t doing anything wrong, yet I couldn’t stop my pulse from accelerating at the thought of encountering anyone.
“This way,” Thomas whispered, guiding me in the opposite direction. As if breaking from a trance, I moved forward, drinking in each aisle of books, shoving the vicious attack from my mind. They weren’t simply regular rows either: There were shelves from floor to ceiling crammed with tomes of every shape and size.
Thick books, thin ones, leather-bound and soft-cover: they were stacked together like cells composing a body. I wanted to run down each aisle to see if there was any end to them.
We could spend the remainder of eternity and not read every book housed there. Though, on a normal day, it would have been magnificent to simply sit with a cup of tea and a warm blanket and pluck new scientific adventures from the shelves like inked petits fours to savor.
There were books written in French, Italian, Latin, Romanian, English.
“I haven’t the slightest idea where to begin,” Thomas said, startling me from my book Utopia. “They’ve got the sections labeled, at least. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Are—” He waved a hand in front of me, lips curving upward as I swatted it away. “Are you paying attention to a word I’m saying, Wadsworth?”
I paused at an aisle labeled stiinta.
“Look at the science section alone, Thomas!”
I selected a medical journal from the nearest shelf, flipping through the pages and marveling at the anatomical drawings. An article by Friedrich Miescher caught my attention. His work with nuclein was fascinating. To think there were phosphorus proteins in our blood cells we’d yet to name!
“This is what they should be teaching us. Not vampire lore regarding a man who died centuries ago. Do you think it’s medically possible to open my cranium and stuff the pages inside? Perhaps the ink will leach in and create some sort of compound reaction.”
