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Thomas went rigid from his place near the corpse’s head, his gaze finding mine and holding it. I prayed our reactions would be thought of as the result of seeing a brutalized woman and not of having recognized her from the tunnels. Something uncomfortable prickled between my shoulder blades, tempting me to turn around and swat it away. I squeezed my eyes shut. If this was another figment of my imagination…
I subtly shifted and glanced behind me. Headmaster Moldoveanu entered the room and tapped a finger against his arm, focus drifting from the body on the table to my pinched expression. Deep in my bones I knew with certainty that he’d read the recognition on my face.
I pretended not to notice and wondered if Thomas was doing the same. I stole a glance at him, but he was watching the prince closely. I assumed he was trying to discern if Nicolae had already been acquainted with this cadaver.
Thomas finally noticed Moldoveanu just as the headmaster turned on his heel and left. He made no sound and yet it felt as if gongs were banging in my ears at his departure.
“This unidentified woman was discovered in the morgue before class, in one of the cadaver drawers,” Percy said. “The body has been drained of most of its blood. Bite marks are present over much of her person. Seems as if someone moved her there to keep her cold and to slow decomposition. We have a most intriguing case to crack, class.”
Percy had no idea how correct he was.
TOWER CHAMBERS
CAMERE DIN TURN
BRAN CASTLE
14 DECEMBER 1888
I bolted upright, blinking away the fang-toothed images my subconscious had created from da
rkness.
Moonlight streaked down the curtains in rivulets and pooled on the floor like a silver waterfall. A chill lay tangled in the sheets around me, but the cold wasn’t what had roused me from sleep. Sweat coated my skin in dewy patches—somehow my nightgown had untied itself, exposing more of my collarbone than was decent.
Still panting from my nightmare of winged creatures swarming and biting, I gently prodded my neck, half fearing my fingers would come away wet with blood. Nothing. I was completely unsullied. No strigoi, or bats, or bloodthirsty demons had feasted while I’d tossed and turned. I felt only smooth, hot flesh, unharmed by anything other than frigid winter air or the scandal its exposure would cause.
I squinted toward the shadows, pulse racing on high alert. The fire in my bedchamber had died out, not long ago, judging from the winking embers. I sank back, but only marginally. My mind was groggy with strange nightmares, but I could have sworn I’d heard voices. They couldn’t all be the product of disturbed dreams. I’d been visited less often by my hauntings recently, or so I’d thought. I gripped my blankets, quieting my frantic heart as I took in the unmoving silhouettes of my dresser and nightstand.
I waited for it. For shadows to peel away from the wall and take the shape of the immortal prince, his serpent wings stretched wide enough to stop my heart entirely. But all was wretchedly silent. So much for spirits visiting the human realm on this supposedly wicked night. It had to be the high altitude of the Carpathians. The thinning oxygen was clearly affecting my brain.
“Foolish.” I flopped back onto my side, drawing the covers up to my chin. Long pieces of unbound hair tickled my back, raising gooseflesh. I sank lower until my head was practically covered from the world outside my blankets. Nightmares were for children.
Silly Radu and his folklore nonsense. Of course there was no such thing as a winter night that could call forth the dead. A scientific explanation could always be found. I closed my eyes, focusing on how cozy I was in my little cocoon of warmth. My breathing slowed, my lids suddenly heavy enough that I didn’t try opening them again. I felt myself fading into an exquisite dream. One where Thomas and I were on our way to Bucharest for the holiday, I was dressed in a beautiful gown I’d wear to a ball, far from the murders—
Thump.
Adrenaline erupted through my body in the form of action.
In the space of two breaths, I swung myself off my mattress, stuffed my feet into slippers, and was halfway across my bedchamber, ears ringing with the strain of listening so hard. There was no mistaking the sound of someone or something moving in the hallway outside my rooms.
I collected my fear and shoved it into the deepest pocket of my mind, ignoring the way it kicked and scratched on the way down.
Forgoing a dressing gown in favor of stealth, I slowly cracked open my bedchamber door. I peered into the sitting room; the fire’s embers were nearly out there as well. For some reason, my new maid must not have stoked them before bed. The deep orange glow wasn’t enough to see by, which also offered an opportunity to not be seen by anyone who might be lurking about. Clouds of cold breath slipped out in uneven intervals.
Thump-thump. I halted, straddling the threshold between my bedchamber and the sitting room. All was still as the grave.
And then… a harshly whispered “Quiet” in Romanian. “Liniste.”
Thump.
After having spent time wrangling bodies in Uncle’s laboratory, I knew the sound that limbs weighted by death made when connecting with the ground. Images of corpse robbers whipped through my thoughts. I didn’t know why I pictured them as skeletal figures with claw-tipped hands, fangs dripping blood, and leathery wings when they had to be robust enough to hoist dead weight. And certainly human.
I held my breath, terrified that even the smallest inhalation would echo like a bell tolling my fate. Whoever they were, I did not want them turning their sinister attention on me. Humans were the true monsters and villains. More real than any novel or fantasy could invent.
Moments passed and the whispers continued. I eased my frozen joints into motion, moving as quickly and silently across the small room as I dared. I’d never been more thankful for the sparse furnishings as I was in that moment as I headed for the door to the corridor.
I ghosted across the room, hesitating once I reached the door. Perhaps Radu’s silly tales had been correct. This was a night fit for haunting after all. Except I would be the specter, running about unseen.
