I kept thinking about the latest death. If my science-minded classmates were beginning to fear vampires, I couldn’t imagine what the superstitious villagers would think once they discovered that another bloodless body had been found. In Vlad Dracula’s castle, no less.
“This is an impossible task.” I stood, brushing down the front of my plain dress. “How are we supposed to find out who’s in the Order now?”
“Roman numerals weren’t built in a day, Wadsworth.”
I sighed so deeply I practically needed a fainting couch. “Did you honestly just utter that abysmal pun?”
I didn’t wait for his response, fearing it would be as stellar as the last one. I drifted toward the aisle labeled poetry across the way.
“Perhaps we should investigate the food stores tonight.”
I jumped, scowling at Thomas, who’d sneaked up behind me.
“Then we could prove if Moldoveanu was lying,” he continued.
“Oh, yes. Let’s sneak about outdoors. I’m sure the headmaster would be quite kind if he caught me again, doing the very thing he warned me against. If the vampiric murderer or rogue chivalric group wandering the halls of this castle don’t get to us first, that is,” I said. Thomas snorted, but I ignored his dismissal. “Do you believe our headmaster knows precisely who’s murdering students and staff? That he’s possibly responsible? I don’t want to risk expulsion if we’re wrong.”
“I believe he’s too obvious,” Thomas said. “But I’m not as convinced that he’s completely ignorant of the strange occurrences in the castle. I wonder if he’s sympathetic to the Order. Though I do not believe he’s a member. He doesn’t have the birth rank. In fact, I believe we’ve both been distracted by other truths.”
“Are you suggesting the Order isn’t involved at all, then?” My mind churned with several new ideas as I removed the Order of the Dragon from the equation. “It very well might be someone pretending to be them. Perhaps that’s why we’re unable to discover a true connection to the Order. What if they in fact are playing no part in this case?”
“They might simply be an elaborate distraction created by the murderer.”
“It would explain how you haven’t managed to deduce or concoct a theory in that magical way of yours.” I narrowed my eyes. “You haven’t read scuff marks on boots and sacrificed something to the math gods to solve the case, have you?”
“This may be hard to believe,” Thomas said, voice suddenly grave. “But I have yet to tap into my psychic powers. I do, however, have questions and suspicions I cannot ignore.”
“You’ve intrigued me. Do go on.”
Thomas took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Where has Anastasia been? I’m afraid we’ve both been ignoring facts. Ones that have been blinding in their obviousness.”
My blood prickled. Thomas was being overly cautious. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d told me to suspect those closest to us, and yet part of me knew Anastasia had secrets. In fact, if I were being truly honest with myself, I knew Ileana had them, too. I had known someone else who’d harbored secrets.…
I shut my emotions off, not allowing devastation to cloud any more of my judgment. I would neither be willfully blind to the truth nor keep my suspicions to myself from this point forward, no matter the cost to my heart.
“I also haven’t seen Ileana in two days. Which was the evening before the body was taken from the tower morgue.”
Thomas nodded. “And? What else? What else doesn’t quite add together?”
I thought back on all the times we’d spoken about strigoi. About how she’d change the subject before Anastasia could ask more questions. How superstitious she’d been about the bodies. “Ileana’s from Braşov. The village where the first murder occurred.”
“She’s also aware that Vlad Dracula’s blood runs through my sister’s veins.”
I knew it wasn’t medically possible, but I swore I felt my heart stop beating. At least for a moment. I stared at Thomas, knowing our thoughts were straying to the same horrid conclusion.
“Do you know where Daciana is now?” I asked, pulse racing. “Which city she was visiting next?” Thomas slowly shook his head. A darker feeling tugged at my core. “Are you certain she left the castle? What about the invitation to the ball?”
“Daci is a bit of a planner; she’d probably have written it out ahead of time. The invitation could have been sent through the post by anyone.” Silver lined the edges of Thomas’s eyes, but he quickly blinked the liquid away. “I never saw her off in her carriage. She slipped away with Ileana. I didn’t want to intrude. I thought they wanted a bit more time alone.”
The body stolen from the tower morgue—was it Daciana’s? I could barely breathe. Thomas had already lost his mother; losing a sibling was as close to a mortal wound as one could withstand. I forced my brain to move through its grief and connect any dots or clues. What did we know about Daciana’s last days or hours at the castle? Then it struck me.
“I know precisely where we need to go.” I made to grab his hand, then paused. Even behind castle walls, the impropriety of my action would not go unnoticed. As if my fears had summoned him, the librarian walked past, arms filled with books. “Come,” I said. “I have an idea.”
We exited the library and scanned the wide corridors. No maids or servants or guards. Not that we would have noticed the maids straightaway—they could be hidden away behind the tapestries in the makeshift corridor. I motioned for Thomas to follow me into the secret hallway, and we moved swiftly and alertly. Focus primed for any movements or sounds.
The air was particularly cold—hallway fires had burned down to nothing, and torches weren’t lit. It was as if the castle were closing off its own emotions, descending into that icy calm. I hoped a storm wasn’t about to break around us.
Some nooks now seemed even more sinister—they were places that might shelter anyone who wished to do harm. I kept one eye out for any flash of movement there. We passed a pedestal with a serpent, and I shivered. Anyone might be ducking behind it, waiting to pounce.
Ileana was small enough to disappear among the displayed artifacts. Thomas followed my gaze but kept his expression neutral. I wanted to know if it was the first time he’d been in the servants’ passages but didn’t risk speaking aloud. Not yet.
Scuffled boots tramped along the carpets in the main corridor. We froze, backs pressed against one of the large tapestries. I didn’t dare glance at which scene of torture we’d hidden against. Judging from the heavy tread, I guessed there were at least four guards. They didn’t speak. The only sounds of their arrival and departure were the clunk, clunk, clunk of their rhythmic steps.
I barely breathed until the thump of their boots faded. Even then, Thomas and I remained motionless for a few beats more. I peeled myself away from the wall and checked both ways. We’d exit the secret corridor soon.
Thankfully, we managed to find our way toward Anastasia’s chambers undetected. Seemed everyone heeded the headmaster’s warning and were tightly locked away in their rooms.
I pressed my ear against Anastasia’s chamber door, listening for a moment before opening it. The fires hadn’t been lit, but the sunlight streamed in through the open curtains. Everything was just as I remembered it the last time Anastasia had been here.
“Why are we in this chamber, Wadsworth?”
I scanned the room. The book Anastasia had taken from the missing woman’s house had appeared to bear one of the Order’s symbols. And if that were the case, perhaps…
“Look.” I crossed the room and lifted the book from the table. It was titled in Romanian: Poezii Despre Moarte, “Poems of Death.” I’d been so distracted by the idea of the missing girl being lost and frozen in the woods that I hadn’t bothered reading the title earlier.
“When Anastasia and I entered that house, she claimed there was a connection between this book and the Order.” I held the book up for him to see. A cross was burned into the cover, each of its sides ablaze with crude
flames. “At first I thought she’d been mistaken, there was no logical reason for the missing woman from the village to be connected to a chivalric order made up of nobles. A mistake on my part, clearly.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Wadsworth. There’s no shame in that. It’s how you go about mending them that truly counts.” Thomas flipped through the book quickly. “Hmm. I believe—”
“That it is time for you to go to your own chambers. You have no reason to be in these rooms.” Thomas and I both tensed at the intrusion and the gravelly voice. Dăneşti stood in the doorframe, his mass taking up the entire space. Seemed like this castle was full of people who could move about without a sound. “All activity within the castle has been canceled until the morning. Moldoveanu’s orders. The headmaster has decided to hold classes tomorrow under one condition: everyone will be escorted to class and then back to your chambers.”
Thomas had somehow hidden Poezii Despre Moarte, and he held his hands up. “Very well. After you.”
I didn’t dare search too hard for the now hidden book. I didn’t want Dăneşti to snatch it from us, especially if it turned out to be the very volume he’d been hunting. After depositing Thomas at his rooms, the guard watched me enter my chambers and then tugged the door shut behind me. Keys jangled and before I knew what he’d done, I was locked in my tower chambers. I raced into the bathing chamber and checked the door to the secret stairwell. It was bolted from the other side.
I did not sleep well that night, pacing as if I were an animal plotting its escape. Caged until someone set me free.
Carbolic steam spray, Paris, France, 1872–1887.
PERCY’S SURGICAL THEATER
AMFITEATRUL DE CHIRURGIE AL LUI PERCY
BRAN CASTLE
15 DECEMBER 1888
Prince Nicolae appeared paler than the corpse Percy was carving into as he handed the professor toothed forceps and coughed, turning away from the incision. It was odd behavior for the normally fearless prince. Perhaps he was coming down with an influenza.
Certainly it couldn’t be the nearly unrecognizable body from the tunnels making him ill. Though Percy had unveiled the body during our lesson two days earlier, Moldoveanu had recollected it before any of us could better inspect it and had released it to class only that afternoon.
Our headmaster had been oddly quiet and contemplative during our previous lesson, his mind seemingly stuck somewhere else. I wondered if the royal family was pressuring him to forensically solve or link the murders, or lose his position as both royal coroner and headmaster. It was also possible that his distress was completely unrelated to the body. Perhaps he was worried about Anastasia’s true whereabouts. He had to have concluded she was not in Hungary by now. I could not imagine what else might cause him such worry.
Percy placed his blade down on a tray, leaving the Y incision incomplete. Most of the girl’s features had been ruined by hungry bats, so her face was covered with a small shroud—a kindness for either her or us. Though I didn’t believe Percy would shy away from exposing us to the brutality of our chosen profession. Death didn’t always come peacefully, and we’d need to prepare ourselves for when it waged war.
“The carbolic steam spray, if you please.”
Percy waited for Nicolae to fumigate the surgical theater. Our professor took the same pains Uncle did to avoid contaminating a scene, though other scholars still claimed such measures unnecessary while studying corpses. I’d never seen a device like the carbolic steam spray before and couldn’t wait to tell Uncle all about it. He’d surely order one for his own laboratory.
Nicolae took aim, spraying the room down in a fine mist. Wisps of gray fog drifted through the air, smelling of sharp antiseptic that tickled my nose.
“We’ve gotten permission from the family to perform this autopsy…”
Something about Percy’s statement troubled me, but my mind drifted back to Ileana while the professor continued with our lesson. I couldn’t figure out what her motive would be in any of the murders, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been involved. In fact, I no longer believed she’d been working alone. Anastasia hadn’t returned to the academy when she’d said she would. I wondered if she had somehow played a part in the crimes, too. Despite their difference in station she and Ileana were friends. They’d both gone missing within a week of each other. I’d initially believed Anastasia’s note about investigating the scene at the house in the village. Now I wasn’t so sure.
Maybe I’d come too close to uncovering their secrets and they’d fled. I’d learned that trusting those who appeared innocent only led to heartbreak and devastation. Monsters could wear the smiles of friends while secreting away the rotten soul of the Devil in the darkest crevices of themselves. I thought back to the times we were all together in my rooms, and a new idea elbowed its way into my mind. If Anastasia and Ileana were working together, then perhaps each encounter and action had been a well-crafted act. They might have scripted their reactions, leading me purposely down the wrong path.
“Miss Wadsworth, are you with us today?”
I snapped into the present, face burning as I glanced around the theater. The Bianchi twins, Noah, Andrei, Erik—all had their attention fixed upon me, even Thomas.
“Apologies, Professor. I—”
Moldoveanu strode into the surgical theater, hands clenched at his sides. I had no idea he’d sneaked into the room. His robes were the exact color of his silver sheet of hair and hung as severely as the look he leveled at me.
“I require a private word with you. Now.”
Andrei snickered and said something under his breath. Erik also chuckled as I walked past them. The thought of stepping on his foot with my heel was enough to distract me from actually doing it. Cian caught my eye, offering a hesitant smile. It was quite the show of support, as the Irish boy had barely acknowledged my existence in the past. Noah must have put in a good word for me.
I picked my way down the stairs, hugging the walls of the surgical theater, and exited into the hallway where the headmaster was waiting, foot stomping the seconds away as if they were roaches he was exterminating.
“When is the last time you spoke with the maid Ileana?”
My heart pounded. Seemed Thomas and I weren’t the only ones who thought her behavior suspect. “I believe it was two days ago, the evening of the thirteenth, sir.”
“You believe so. Is attention to detail not critical to being a student of forensics? What other things might you miss that would be detrimental to a case? I ought to strike you from the course now and save us both time and energy.”
I bristled at the bite in his tone. It was harsh even for him. “I was being polite, sir. The last I saw her was the thirteenth. I’m certain of it. I’ve had a new chambermaid since then. She’s informed me Ileana’s on duty elsewhere in the castle, though I no longer believe that to be true. Perhaps you ought to speak with her and see what she might be hiding about Ileana’s whereabouts.”
Moldoveanu inspected me with the squinty-eyed look of someone staring at a specimen under a microscope. I pressed my lips together, no longer trusting myself not to snap at him for taking so long to speak again. “And what, exactly, do you believe to be true about Ileana now?”
“I believe she knows something about the murder of Mr. Wilhelm Aldea, sir.” I hesitated before voicing my next concern, worried that if Anastasia returned unharmed, she would murder me when she learned I’d betrayed her trust. “I—I also wonder if she knows where Anastasia is. Anastasia left a note for me… begging not to tell you where she’d gone, but never offered any further details.”
Moldoveanu’s hand flexed at his side, the only outward sign of how furious he was. “Yet you didn’t bother to inform me of your suspicions. Do you recall anything out of the ordinary over the last few days? Anything substantial to confirm your claims?”
There was the matter of the two people I was certain I’d seen dragging a corpse through the woods. I’d already told him about that, and he’d sn
eered. I wasn’t about to subject myself to further scrutiny. “No, sir. Just a feeling.”
“A feeling. Otherwise known as a nonscientific finding. How unsurprising for a young woman to be ruled by her emotions instead of rational thought.”
I slowly inhaled, letting the action calm the flames of my own annoyance. “I believe it’s important to incorporate both science and instinct, sir.”
The headmaster curled his lip away from his pointy incisors. It was truly remarkable that a man could be in possession of such animalistic teeth. I was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t a medical condition he ought to have checked out when he finally clicked his tongue against those instruments of impalement.
“We’ve already spoken with your new chambermaid. She’s been dismissed from her duties. I suggest you stay away from Ileana if you do see her again. You may return to class, Miss Wadsworth.”
“Why? Do you believe she has something to do with Anastasia’s disappearance? Have you searched the tunnels?” The expression the headmaster offered was nothing short of terror-inducing. If I’d thought his teeth were intimidating, it was nothing compared to the depthless loathing in his icy gaze.
“If you were a wise girl, you’d stay out of those tunnels and any chambers located in them. Heed my warning, Miss Wadsworth.” He glanced into the surgical theater, gaze landing on the corpse. I could have sworn there was a flash of sadness before he turned back to me, eyes full of rage. “Or you might find yourself under Percy’s blade next.”
With that, he pivoted on his heel and marched off, leather soles slapping the floor. Snakes seemed to slither through my intestines. Somehow I made my way back into the surgical theater and sank into my seat. I went through the motions of taking notes, but my mind was torn in half.