She watched as Da considered her proposition, fingers clenching and releasing as he mulled it over. His gaze moved to Leslie and lingered there for a moment, then returned to Alana’s face after smiled.
“If and only if, Leslie swears it’s safe for ye to help.
Victory. Alana wanted to jump up and down and hug her father, but she held it in. For the moment he still looked serious.
“I mean it lass, ye’ll be mindful. I’ll accept the risk to myself, but I’ll be damned if I can bear anythin’ happenin’ to ye.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Hunedoara, Romania, 1494
I heard the words before I grasped just how dire our situation had become. “György Stolcz shall have my confession when my daughter goes free.”
I’d been here before, curled into this crumbling pocket of a wall, imprisoned behind these iron bars—feeling the cold creep into my bones. I waited until I heard the footsteps retreat.
“Elena,” I whispered. “Are you there? We need to talk.”
“Say nothing, girl. The walls have ears.”
“It doesn’t matter; I already know what will happen. They’ll come for us at dawn and we’ll hang. Now is our chance.”
“What did you have in mind, changeling?”
What did I have in mind? I had no plan.
“Sophia,” a gentle and familiar voice whispered.
“Costin,” Elena said in surprise. “Is that you, boy? What are you doing down here? Your mother will have your hide.”
“I don’t care what my mother does,” Costin responded coldly.
He walked forward and squeezed my hand. “I’ll die with you if I must.”
“I’d prefer if no one died,” I said quickly. “Can you help us out of here?”
He pulled a key from his pocket and allowed it to sway back and forth twice before unlocking my cage and assisting me in climbing out.
A shout sounded from the stairs above.
Costin quickened his movements, dragging me to the cell that held Elena. He attempted to put the key in the lock, but his hand was shaking. Sweat rolled down his forehead and his eye ticked ferociously.
“Costin, what’s going on?” I asked.
“The key won’t work. It must be a different one.” He scrambled, trying the other two on the ring.
FORTY-NINE
Alana refused to twiddle her thumbs at the hotel while Da trotted off to meet with the Castle expert. If mum was alive and possibly a prisoner, she needed to tag along to eavesdrop and maybe even do some research of her own.
Eager to catch up with him before he left, she pulled on her boots and knocked on the bathroom door, where Leslie had retreated to.
“Les, I’m off to join Da.”
“What about shopping?” Leslie called back, “The Dracula Festival starts this afternoon. The front desk clerk said that the town has a bunch of costume shops.”
“Costume shops?”
“We’ll need to figure out something to wear to the Blood Moon Ball.”
Bloody hell. Alana thought. She’d forgotten about that part. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
The driver dropped Alana off fifteen minutes later. It wasn’t until she found her way to the great room of the high, vaulted library and sat for ten minutes that she realized this was the right place. It turned out that this was the Metropolitan Szabó Ervin Library, not the University of Budapest library. Her cab driver had obviously misunderstood her. Patches of sunlight streamed in through stained-glass windows, piercing the hall in a pretty rainbow of colors. She’d never find him in time now, might as well take advantage of this beautiful library, she thought.
Her Hungarian was limited to tourist phrases but the librarian located a small collection in English on the local history of Bran Castle.
She flipped through a couple of pages and then pulled her mum’s spell book from her bag, laying it flat on the table. It radiated a forbidden mystery. Stealing it from the hotel room had made her nervous, but it was necessary if she were going to get answers.
She would read every page if she must. She would learn. And then she’d go back in time with her Da, whether he liked it or not, to help rescue her mother.
The piece of paper her mother had scribbled on after her regression fell out of the book as she flipped the page.
The reddish wolf.
Time seemed to have stopped, despite the activity around her. That name, the reddish wolf, was so familiar. She was sure she’d seen it before.
A woman appeared as if out of nowhere. She wore a long blue skirt and a white peasant top with embroidered flowers. The outfit looked handmade and Alana wondered if she was a tourist or a native local that dressed like this all the time.
The woman followed Alana’s gaze. “Bună dimineața.”
Alana had heard this a few times before and knew it meant good morning, but that was pretty much where her knowledge ended.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak Romanian.”
“They sell them at the market,” the woman said, switching to accented English. “You know…the Bazarre.”
“Pardon?”
“My skirt. You were looking at it, weren’t you? I thought that maybe you liked it.”
“I was. I do like it.” Alana nodded and returned her gaze to the book, feeling right scarlet at having been caught staring.
“Sorry to interrupt,” The woman said, taking a seat at Alana’s table.
Alana looked up sharply and glanced about the room, noting that there were several other empty tables.
The woman stood but didn’t leave. “You have quite a few books on Bran Castle. I’m also doing research on the area.”
“I’m hogging them, aren’t I? I apologize,” Alana said softly. “Please take a seat and we can share.”
The woman settled herself and Alana returned to her thoughts. She pulled a blank hotel notepad and pen from her bag and wrote the name Elena. Beside it, she wrote The Reddish Wolf, and highlighted it. She was so busy turning the name over in her memory that she didn’t realize she’d pulled Mum’s ring from under her shirt. The woman interrupted her once again as she was mindlessly stroking it, to comment on how pretty it was. Alana quickly tucked the chain and ring back away. Da would go mental if he knew she had it. Morei had given it to her at the séance to wear and she’d hidden it away after—mum’s original engagement ring. Her parents had locked it away and now she knew why, it held a piece of the Delhi Sapphire, but still she was hurting anyone if she wore it and it couldn’t do anything to her. Of course, Da wouldn’t see it that way. If Da found it then he’d lock it back up. She’d have to be careful not to play with it again.
She was thinking about packing up and returning to the hotel when the woman spoke up again.
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but are you researching The Reddish Wolf?”
“Ye know of her?”
The woman lifted a derisive brow. “Mmmhmmm…I can almost picture her now. Can I ask, what’s the connection between her and Bran Castle though?”
Alana bit her lip. She didn’t know how much to share. She decided to plead ignorance, which was practically the truth. “What do ye mean?”
“Well, Elena…the reddish wolf, lived in a cottage in the woods of Hunedoara. She was connected to the Cuza family, unless you’re researching another?”
“That’s her. I thought she lived at Bran Castle for a time.”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Do you know much else then, about the lass?” Alana asked, trying not to sound as eager as she felt.
“I wouldn’t want to waste your time. How much do you already know?”
“Nothin’ really,” Alana said.
“You probably won’t find too much on her in Budapest. You would do better, perhaps, closer to Hunedoara. Now let me see, what can I tell you? Aside from the fact that she had flaming red hair… oh I know, there was one scandal in particular that clinched her fate—an affair with a man named…”
; Alana whispered, “Vilhem?”
“I thought you didn’t know her story.”
“Sorry. It was an unrelated hunch. Please go on.”
The woman eyed Alana skeptically but carried on. “Vilhem was a happily married man, and a very powerful man, thanks to his wife—the daughter of the town’s appointed representative.”
“Appointed representative?” Alana questioned.
“Oh forgive me, I get ahead of myself at times. In those days, whoever ran the castle, ran the town. When the Castle’s owner died, his wife married the Marquis of Brandenburg but he wouldn’t live in Hunedoara, so he appointed a representative to run things for him and that man was György Stolcz. Not that any of that’s important—all you need to know is that he was the father of Alexandra Cuza.”
Alana was about to ask which castle but thought better of interrupting again.
“Where was I? Oh yes, the scandal. The reddish wolf wanted Vilhem so she set out to bewitch him, from between the sheets if you catch my meaning.”
“How do ye know so much about them? Are ye a historian?”
The woman laughed. “I’ve been a librarian for the last twenty years and I recently started teaching a history course on Transylvania. That’s why I’m here, some of the texts I needed were located here so I’m just brushing up and planning. The Balkans have had such a turbulent, bloody past.” Her lips twisted again. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the long Turkish War and of course there is the Dracula legend. For every outlandish vampire tale, there are many more truthful tales that go unrecorded in the history books. Take your reddish wolf, for example, she was hanged for witchcraft, did you know that?”
Alana rubbed at her neck, wondering why this woman’s words bothered her so. She swallowed hard. “Witchcraft? I thought the Balkans were known for ghoulish tales of the undead, wives throwin’ themselves from towers, and superstitious peasants.”
She darted a look at Alana, “Don’t forget deals with the Devil, but you shouldn’t make fun of superstitious peasants; they’re a powerful bunch,” she said with a wink.
“Right,” Alana said, furrowing her brows. There was something definitely off about this woman. “I didn’t think the witch hunts were big in Romania though, especially in the 1500s.”
The woman drew in a slow, shuddering breath and went on as if enjoying the tale. “Can you imagine how desperate, how frightened, she must have been? To have been found out, and punished before the very man she’d bewitched? Of course,” she continued, “Vilhem was killed, too, not long after; the mob turned on him. I believe Vilhem and Elena had a bastard daughter who was tried as well. Her neck didn’t break so she was later drowned.”
She said the last words with relish, her eyes alight with some inner fire and Alana wondered if perhaps her family had been wronged in some way by a descendant of The Reddish Wolf.
“Yes. Well, that is a very disturbing history. I’m sure my teacher will love all of the details. Are there any books ye know of that I can cite?” Alana mused.
The woman nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t have all of my notes on me, but if you give me your email then I’ll forward the names.”
“Great,” Alana said, closing the text in search of her pen. “It must have rolled away,” she said, leaning forward to check the floor.
She felt a prickle at the back of her neck and almost wacked her head off the table.
The woman was standing and leaning into her side now.
“Where did that book come from?” the woman said and shot out a hand before Alana could stop her.
Alana looked up, surprised to see the woman already had her mother’s spell book in her hands. She had supernatural speed. “I brought it with me. Please give it back,” she said and tugged the book across the table, picking it up and placing it protectively against her chest.
“I’m no book thief.” The woman’s anger was instant. She was offended. “I was only curious. It looks old and I didn’t recognize it.”
This woman had been helpful with her research today.
“That was bold of me. I apologize. I’m quare protective of it.”
“That’s all right. It is very old. May I take a look at it?” She paused, holding Alana’s gaze hostage. “If I promise to be careful—as I said, I’m a librarian as well as a historian. Old books are my passion.”
Already others were turning their gazes toward the disruption. Alana had drawn attention to them with her paranoia.
“Sure thing,” she said, reasoning that this woman was a bibliophile like her mum and was only curious to look at one she’d never laid eyes on. It’s not as if she would get up and run.
“It was my mum’s and she’s no longer with us.”
Alana didn’t add that it hopefully contained the secret to getting her mother back. She braced herself for the usual comments—I’m so sorry to hear that, how did you lose her—but this woman said none of that. She was too busy flipping from page to page. Her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. Alana didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved.
“Look at those intricate hand-painted illustrations, embellished with gold, and the ornate Latin calligraphy.”
“Grand, isn’t it?” Alana agreed proudly.
“And very valuable—why these are spells, my dear, and in many different languages.”
Alana turned and gazed out the window. Rain dripped in a lacy pattern down the glass. She’d lost track of time. Da would be back soon. She needed to beat him there to put the book back and she’d promised Leslie they’d go costume shopping.
“I should really be goin’. I’m late.”
“Would you consider selling this? I know a man who collects such work. He would pay extremely well.”
Alana blinked, stunned by the woman’s audacity. The old book held the whereabouts of her mother between its dark leather covers. “No. Never!”
“Now, now, child—don’t be hasty. Think about this. Magic is a wondrous but dangerous thing.” The lady motioned to the air above their heads, as if she saw something no one else could see. “You must beware. Remember what happen to our dear reddish wolf. You and her have very similar traits, you know.” She tipped her head to the side and held her hand above her head as if holding onto an imaginary rope. Then she stuck out her tongue and made a gagging noise. Alana suddenly felt sick—she could have sworn the woman’s eyes had been blue when they’d first struck up a conversation and now they were practically black. Alana crossed her arms against her chest and rubbed at the backs of them.
Alana asserted herself. “Like I said, it’s a family heirloom and not mine to sell.” She hurried to wrap the book in her sweatshirt, stuffing it into her bag.
“All right. Don’t get huffy! I can take a hint, but remember witchcraft is taken very seriously in some places, so you should be more careful about where you take that out.”
“Thank ye for the advice but I’ll be fine,” Alana said. “Hangings are a thing of the past.”
The woman laughed. “True, but the past is never really far away, now is it?”
Alana frowned. This woman was a bloody nut. Her instinct told her to leg it, but her brain wanted to argue. She’d pressed all of Alana’s buttons. She stood, and turned to go, deciding she would have the last word.
“Witch hunts no longer happen.”
She got no more than two feet away before she heard the woman snort. “I would have thought Hunedoara had cured you of that silly notion.”
Alana pushed through the large wooden doors without looking back. Doubtless the woman would follow if given the encouragement, perhaps asking several more inappropriate questions if she’d didn’t hurry. Her rapid departure and the woman’s remarks left her feeling a little unsettled. Where was Hunedoara? She contemplated sharing her story about the strange woman with Leslie but she would tell Da and that would bring about punishment for stealing the book. Perhaps she’d keep this little tale to herself. Thankfully she hadn’t been able to write her name and email down so the crazy lad
y would never be able to locate her.
FIFTY
Hunedoara, Romania, 1494
Noises sounded from above and Costin dropped the ring of keys for a second time.
“They must have found the guard I hit,” he whispered.
The footsteps and voices were getting closer now.
“There’s no time, go!” Elena screeched.
“No,” I protested, reaching for Elena through the bars.
Her eyes widened like she’d thought of something and she fiddled with her pocket. Then she shoved a weed-like plant into my palm.
I was about to ask what it was until I recognized it as Witch’s Dust, also known as Wolf's claw. The oily, yellow spores would explode with a bright flash if thrown onto flames, but there were no flames here, unless maybe the torch.
“Quick, give me the torch and keep trying to unlock her. I’ll distract the guards.”
“Just go,” Elena begged.
“No.”
“Girl. I know your heart is true, and your is head is hard but he’s tried all the keys twice. Now go! You can’t save me if you get caught.”
Costin grabbed my hand and dragged me through another doorway, away from the approaching shouts.
Tears were creeping down my chin, although I didn’t know why. It’s not like Elena really was my mother and yet I felt bonded to her. I crept silently behind him, blinking hard in the flaring light of the torches. I could see the castle better now. It was a hodgepodge of cold stone and narrow passages. We scurried for some distance, up staircases and down long corridors, until at length we came to what I surmised must have been one of the high towers of the castle. Silhouetted in the doorway was the slight figure of a girl, and it was only a moment before she spied us and hurried forward.
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 88
