Blood Spirits

by Sherwood Smith

  Phaedra? That was a surprise. “Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this,” I said, patting my pocket where I’d tucked my prism.

  “You don’t have to take it out,” Beka said.

  “True. So tell me. Who is this Jerzy guy? Phaedra called him uncle, but said something about my mother. Is he a von Mecklundburg, or not?”

  “Heh.” Beka’s mouth twisted. “Not so easy to answer.”

  “Well, what’s his background?”

  “That much I can tell you. His mother was the stonemason’s daughter up on the Devil’s Mountain, and when Count Armandros . . . no, he was the duke then, briefly, because his brother had already been killed. Anyway, he was wounded after an encounter with some Germans. Hid up in her village as he dared not go to the Eyrie, which they held. She took care of him, and . . . well, along came a son. Gossip was evenly divided about who seduced whom. A year or so after Armandros died, she came to the city and first tried to blackmail the family, but by then everyone knew about Princess Aurelia and her daughter Marie, so this new little scandal hardly raised a brow. So she sold him outright to the family and vanished.”

  “That sounds kind of harsh.”

  “Your Aunt Sisi took to this little red-haired baby her own age, and they have always been close. He always traveled with the family. When they came here in the fifties, he began getting into trouble. During the sixties and the early seventies, the trouble escalated, especially with women.”

  “Just like his dad, eh? I don’t remember any mention of Jerzy in Milo’s diary.”

  “Milo was very discreet about certain kinds of trouble.”

  “Yes, as in didn’t mention at all.”

  Beka gave that French shrug. “Jerzy was also implicated in a series of thefts, though he always seemed to have an alibi—usually corroborated by women. When one of those thefts ended up with a death they all insisted was accidental, his friends went to the prison work force for a time, and Milo and Grandfather prevailed on the Council to ban Jerzy from the country.”

  “But he’s here now.”

  “This ban was forty years ago. Because of Ruli, and for the duchess’s sake, you understand, no one has said anything about his reappearance. Anyway, we all called him Uncle Jerzy when we stayed at the von Mecklundburg flat in Paris.”

  “I take it this flat is not a small apartment.”

  Beka threw me an amused glance. “Your Tante Sisi have something small? It is the upper floor of a very fine address. Four suites altogether. We all called it Uncle Jerzy’s place. I do not know if he actually owns it, as I do not know how legal is his use of the family name, but he acted as host as the family and their guests came and went. Here we are.” She pulled into the palace parking lot.

  I felt Tania’s gaze and said, “Uncle Jerzy seems to have been over at the inn asking questions about me.”

  Beka pulled up and parked. “He must have been as surprised as everyone that the mysterious Marie’s daughter was back.”

  I laughed at the idea of Mom being mysterious as Phaedra Danilov came striding out of the Vigilzhi command post, looking elegant and athletic in a black and white ski outfit.

  She beckoned impatiently.

  “Ah. All ready for us,” Beka said in a brisk voice.

  We got out, and Phaedra pulled off her sunglasses. “I want you to know I think going to the crash site is a stupid idea. I’m only here because I don’t want to hear about you driving off a cliff.” She waved the sunglasses dismissively at Tania. “Who’s that?”

  “We will talk in the car,” Beka said.

  Phaedra shrugged sharply. We climbed into a four-wheel drive vehicle with huge snow tires, and began bumping up the steep road behind the palace, Phaedra handling the wheel like an expert.

  “Tania speaks to ghosts,” Beka said over the rim noise.

  Phaedra shot a fast look in the rear view mirror. She drove like a maniac in the city, but I was relieved to discover that she was more circumspect in her mountain driving—still fast, but not crazy. “So you really think you’ll find Ruli’s ghost at the crash site?”

  “It hasn’t been seen by anyone else except Kim. When she died, yes?” Beka turned to regard me.

  “Actually, Tuesday morning, if we figured right,” I answered. “I don’t know if that makes a difference.”

  Phaedra shrugged sharply. Clearly it made no difference to her. Beka gave me a perplexed glance.

  “Ruli would go back to Paris if she was going to haunt anything,” Phaedra stated with conviction.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps there is no choosing,” Beka replied. “All I know is what the Salfmattas say, that sites of violent death will most often have a revenant, at least for a while.”

  Phaedra did not respond, and we fell into silence.

  The mountain roads were beautiful, but bumpy with snow that had drifted down after the plowing, and had turned icy in the shadowy canyons and turnings. Tania rode beside me in the back, eyes closed. I wondered how many times she had ever been in a car.

  The dramatic slopes had been smoothed into blue-white folds, punctuated here and there by stands of evergreen and weather-worn rock. Once I saw a grayish goat-like creature bounding like a deer high on a peak and realized I’d seen my first chamois.

  Then Phaedra let out a “Hah,” and pulled up to a stop.

  A flag had been planted on the roadside. Phaedra got out, slammed the door, and walked to the snow piled along the edge of the cliff. The rest of us got out more slowly. Tania rubbed her temples with her mittened fingertips, rewrapped her scarf, then took a deep breath.

  “Go ahead, whenever you’re ready,” I said, disappointed that I couldn’t see any ghosts.

  Tania turned to me, I shrugged, then she said quietly, “No one here.”

  “Let’s look over the ledge, shall we?” Beka asked.

  The crash site was below a hairpin turn. We walked carefully along the piled snow at the verge, but we couldn’t see directly down. I was hesitant to climb on that pile—it was fresh, loose, and I couldn’t see how close to the edge it was.

  The trunk slammed, and footsteps crunched up. Phaedra reappeared with coiled rope over one shoulder and a broad shovel balanced on the other.

  She attacked the plowed snow, flinging shovelfuls over her shoulder. She soon created a gap. We edged into it, and peered down at the smooth expanse of white. To the left was a ledge. Below that, a steep drop. Here and there snow-dappled trees reached skyward. One was broken off. The other trees showed pale bark where branches had been violently torn away. At the bottom were two blackened tree skeletons sticking up from the fresh snowfall.

  I saw no ghost. Tania’s gaze was fixed, and I felt a surge of hope.

  “Ready for a climb?” Phaedra snapped an end of the rope free of the coil, and began fashioning a knot. “Or is there nothing to see?” she addressed Tania.

  “I think . . . I think there is something,” Tania said to me.

  “Okay,” I said in my most encouraging tone.

  By that time Phaedra had anchored her ropes to a strong young pine, and had tested them. “You know anything about rappelling?” she asked Tania, who shook her head.

  Phaedra had only a single harness, which she worked over Tania’s coat, and checked it. “Let’s go.”

  “Do you need a harness?” Beka asked.

  “This is like a stepladder,” Phaedra waved dismissively at the treacherous climb. “I only need harness on cliff faces.”

  With that she wrapped her own line around her hips, took it in hand, leaped over the edge, causing Beka and me to gasp. She ran, bounced, then jumped again, landing solidly on the small plateau twenty feet below, sending snow flying.

  “That’s where Alec was found,” Beka murmured to me.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t break his neck!”

  “He was, too.” Her tone was subdued.

  Phaedra held out her arms, encouraging Tania over. With Beka and me guarding the rope from above, and Phaedra from below, Tania inched
her way down the chasm. Once or twice the two caused small avalanches that covered them with sprays of white powder.

  “What’s Phaedra’s issue? Is she mad at me on Ruli’s behalf, or mad at you?”

  Beka laughed softly, sending a cloud of vapor into the still air. “She dislikes me for something unforgivable that I did in childhood, and again when we were teens. And yes, that time, it was about Alec.”

  Tania said sharply, “Here.” Her voice echoed up the rocky crags.

  Tania balanced on a rock near a broken tree, staring in that fixed way that reminded me of cats. Phaedra had also stilled, her head shifting in quick, minute flicks. Clearly she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  “Something about Alec?” I asked, prepared to be shut down. Or ignored.

  Beka sighed. “I said she was stupid. Because she doesn’t read. I was a horridly arrogant teen. Arrogant and jealous.”

  “Smug or miserable, all part of the teen package,” I said. “She’s still angry?”

  Voices echoed from below as Tania said something, and Phaedra answered. Then Phaedra lifted her head, her hands curving around her mouth to amplify the sound as she yelled, “He won’t talk.”

  Beka and I looked at each other. “He?”

  “Is this the wrong accident site?” I asked.

  Beka peered downward. “There is where the trees burned. The wounds in the higher trees are still fresh. We’re in the right place. But the ghost might be old. Perhaps others have crashed here. It is a treacherous turn.”

  We had to contain our impatience as the two labored their way back up. Phaedra guided Tania’s every step, frequently catching her when Tania slid or got panicky.

  Tania never made a sound. Her face was crimson, especially where she’d bitten her lips, but when she regained the roadside, she said, “There is a man. He is dark of hair and eyes. He wears a coat of smooth leather and very fine shoes.”

  “Old fashioned clothes? New?”

  Tania touched her chest. “New. His trousers, they zip here.” She patted her waist in front. “Many of the old ghosts, they have buttons.”

  “That ghost could be from last summer, or seventy years ago,” I said. “Zippers in men’s pants became standard around the time of World War two.”

  “I still think Ruli would haunt Paris,” Phaedra called as she freed her ropes. “Probably at Hermès.”

  I’d been fingering the prism in my pocket. “Look,” I said to Beka in an under-voice. “It’s probably a waste of time, but like Phaedra said, we’re here. We should try everything.”

  Beka looked puzzled, then her eyes widened. “I agree.”

  Phaedra had stowed the rope in the back of the car. She paused, one slim hand on her perfect hip, the other jamming those intimidating glasses on her nose. “What now?” Her voice changed. “What’s that for?”

  I had the prism on my hand. It winked and glittered, catching shards from the sun riding above the northern mountains. The sparkles were so intense I closed my eyes.

  “Experiment,” I said. “Beka, what do I do to find that day?”

  “I don’t know how seers find a specific time. Perhaps look for Ruli’s face? Maybe you will see her in the car?” She spread her hands, a quick, graceful gesture even with fuzzy mittens. “I am out of my realm.”

  I drew in a deep breath, reaching for my one clear memory of Ruli, when we first saw one another up at the Eyrie. I recalled her features as I shifted the prism a millimeter at a time.

  Something flashed, too quick to catch.

  “It’s like a single frame of a film, but I know it’s there,” I said, frustrated.

  Tania came to my side and peered doubtfully at the prism. “Are you perhaps seeing her in a moment of motion?”

  “Alors!” Beka exclaimed. “That must be it. She is passing in and out of the space where you stand.”

  Phaedra plucked off her glasses, then her brows arched skeptically. “Or you are imagining her? I don’t understand this. Is it something like Honoré’s auras?”

  “No, it’s different . . .” I shook my head. “It’s fast, but I get enough of an impression to see different colors—she’s wearing different clothes. Weird.”

  “You are seeing her at different times,” Beka stated. “You need to isolate that day, if you can.”

  “How?” I looked around. “Oh. I’m in the middle of the road. So, if those are different times, then I’m seeing her being driven along. I need to catch her going off the cliff. Which means . . .” I didn’t know much about prisms and Second Sight, but I knew plenty about how traffic and cars worked. I stamped along the slushy ground to the side of the road. “If they began to skid off there, they probably started right about here.” I faced the road and moved the prism, trying to see the green Daimler that I’d ridden in for so many days.

  This time the blur was less smeary and the image more clear, enough for me to recognize the Daimler coming at me head on. I jumped back, then steadied myself. No car was going to hit me.

  When I tried again, it was easier—and the blurring, sliding image lasted long enough for me to see that there were two people in the front seat.

  And I didn’t know either of them.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “IT’S THE SAME CAR?” Phaedra asked for the third time.

  I know that car. I rode in it for days. It’s definitely the same car.”

  Beka shook her head slowly. “Perhaps a similar car, from another year? I do not understand how it is possible that two people you have never seen could be in a car that no one drove besides Alec or Klaus Kilber. You didn’t see Kilber?”

  “A woman is driving. She has a pointy face.” I motioned to my chin. My head panged. “Narrow here.” I touched my cheeks. “Dark hair, very short, escaping under a red cap.”

  Phaedra made a stifled noise and waved for me to go on.

  So I finished, “She’s wearing a brown coat.”

  “The man?” Phaedra asked, arms crossed. But her tone was interested, not derisive.

  “He’s asleep, or leaning his head back, so all I could see was dark hair and a sort of smeary gleam here.” I touched my shoulders. “Light along a smooth thing. Not fabric. Maybe a leather jacket.”

  Tania’s words coat of leather reverberated in my head. Beka’s eyes widened, and Phaedra tipped her head.

  “You imagined it,” Phaedra said emphatically, jerking a thumb Tania’s way. “Because she said her ghost is wearing a leather coat.”

  Instantly doubt hit me. “Maybe I saw what I expected to see,” I said. “Except why would I see that woman? I don’t know her.”

  Beka’s lips were a tight line. “Wait. Kim, is the car sliding, like it’s out of control, or is it coming to a stop?”

  “I don’t know. Could be either. It’s moving slowly through my space, with a sense of movement like this.” I pushed my hand toward the side of the road.

  “Vache!” Beka’s sharp exclamation snapped our attention her way. She made a visible effort and spoke in that neutrally flat teacher’s tone. “Kim. Would you try one more thing for me? To be thorough.”

  “Name it.”

  “Come back to this point, here, where the car might have either stopped, or gone off the road. This time, instead of trying to see the Daimler, try to see Alec.”

  “Oh, good thinking.” I paused to breathe and sloshed a few paces closer to the verge of the road. It had given me a bit of a headache, concentrating on the two strangers. But try to see Alec? That should be easy. I gazed down into the prism, turning it minutely, then shifting from left to right—

  There. Gone in a blink, as usual, but now I was getting better at the tiny adjustments I needed to make to bring the vision back into focus, even if only for a second or two.

  There.

  I recognized the back of Alec’s head. Below that one shoulder, and his arm, utterly inert, his hand loose, hanging off the back seat. He lay on his side.

  I moved a yard diagonally and turned slowly to look bac
k. I stood in the space where the front seat had been. I looked down into the prism—and there he was, not two feet away, hair spilling across his forehead, the rest of him sprawled in unconsciousness. Caught in time. I looked so long and hard that dizziness frazzled the edges of my vision.

  I looked up, blinking rapidly until I regained focus on the trio of waiting faces. “He’s asleep in the back seat.”

  Beka was pale as death. She said carefully, “Good. Now look again at the man in the front seat, if you can.”

  He would be in the same space I was standing, so I edged to my right, then turned again, so I stood in the driver’s space, and I stared down through the prism at where the shotgun seat would be.

  There was the man a few inches away.

  You move as if inspired, sweet Ruli, a voice whispered.

  Cold poured through my nerves as if someone had shoved a bucket of snow inside my skin.

  “I know that guy,” I said numbly. “I mean I recognize him. It’s the guy I danced with in the Split nightclub.”

  “Marzio di Peretti?” Phaedra squeaked. “Marzio? And Alec, in the Daimler? But everyone said . . .”

  My throat was tight. I swallowed, instinct forcing me to be exact, as if every move, every word was important. “It is the same man I danced with. I never heard his name. He—he thought I was Ruli, you see. That day in Split.”

  Phaedra gazed over the ledge. “I don’t get it. How could Marzio become a ghost?”

  “If it’s the same man,” I said. I think I was squeaking. My voice sure didn’t sound like mine.

  Beka rubbed her cheeks fiercely. “I think the first question is, why was Magda Stos driving the Daimler with two sleeping men inside it?”

  Phaedra jerked around. “You thought that, too? Magda wears a red cap. She has short hair, and that chin—” She said to me, “We used to call her Barbe, when Aunt Sisi first put her to spy on Ruli. You know, for that pointed beard of the musketeer days.” Phaedra’s words came in a quick rush. “She drove Marzio to the border that day, we know that. But Alec in the back seat? Are you sure?”