Blood Spirits

by Sherwood Smith

  “Someone iced their driveway the night of the ball.”

  “How do you do that? Oh, put water over it when the temperature is dropping?”

  “Correct. That storm was just moving in, or they might have seen the danger. Whoever did it iced the top half of their drive, so the sleigh lost friction, slid all the way down, and turned over.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Beka. She broke three ribs cushioning her mother’s fall. The Prime Minister is badly bruised. The animals were unhurt, at least.”

  “That is so creepy.”

  “I’ve got the Vigilzhi spread far too thin, guarding them and everyone else. We’re going to have to redesign the patrol routes. That’s where I—”

  “Should be,” I finished, and though I knew it was wrong, I could not resist the pull from chair to the bed to sit beside him. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

  “I’ve watched the windows for three days.”

  “Me, too. I don’t know anything about snow, but I figured that if I couldn’t see the buildings across the street, going out might be a bad idea.”

  He nodded. “The entire city shuts down during blizzards, by law. Too often the weather clears, and we find someone frozen twenty feet from their door.” His weight shifted, and we were touching, shoulder to shoulder as he glanced around. “You like staying here? It can’t be convenient. Or is it the company? You are comfortable among them?”

  I was about to say, I’m used to ordinary citizens. Which was true. My end of Santa Monica was only a bike ride from Beverly Hills, but it may as well have been on another continent. But before I could claim to be Ms. Everywoman, I thought about that bathroom reserved just for me, and the “Mademoiselle Dsaret” attention, and I made a face. “They make me comfortable, and I really like them.”

  His arm drifted up my back to close around my shoulders; his voice was low, warmed by a smile that I felt and heard more than saw. I shivered, and leaned into him as he murmured, “I had to tell you in person how much it meant to me, the things you said at the opera house ball.”

  “That you’re not a murderer? Is anyone going to listen to any of it at that hearing on Tuesday?”

  “There’s only one piece of evidence that we can introduce, because it can be proved: those bones in Ruli’s sarcophagus.”

  “Right.” I sighed. “Alec, I want so badly to kiss you, but . . . when Ruli gets back—if she gets back, and I hope she does—if she’s okay with us hooking up, because I get it about the political stuff . . .”

  “When Ruli gets back, the three of us will have a chance to talk.” He drew in a deep breath. “I was going to say ‘the four of us,’ but Marzio . . .” He shook his head. “I wish I knew where Ruli was. I hope she’s alive. There are going to be a lot of questions asked at Tuesday’s hearing. Honoré is going to be there, and no one will be wearing charms if we have to strip them down. People are very angry. Not just with me, anymore.”

  “Have you told anyone about the bones?”

  “I’ve left that to Dmitros. He’s doing his best to investigate, but as I said, the Vigilzhi are stretched to the max. There are more rumors about vampires around. Missing animals. So far no missing people, but the reports have increased, and they have a lot in common: old charms smashed or missing, shadows crossing windows, shadowy places on streets, and local animals going wild.”

  “Okay, that’s really creepy.”

  “And did I mention someone’s been searching my things? Not just at the Palace. Ysvorod House as well. Even the cubby over at the council building, though anyone who knows anything about how our government works would know there is nothing remotely personal or secret kept there.”

  “Are you being guarded?”

  “No. Better those men be used for other purposes. My mood is so vile I might even welcome a confrontation.” He shifted slightly, using his free hand to dig into one of the pockets of his long coat. He pulled out a pistol.

  “Ick,” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet in instinctive recoil. “But if it keeps you safe . . .”

  He slid it back into his pocket, and I was going to sit down again, but he got slowly to his feet. “Dmitros is probably waiting for me. And I took the street car. One nice thing about this weather is the anonymity.”

  “That goes for the killer, too, unfortunately,” I said as I rubbed my damp palms down the sides of my jeans. “Um. Can we do something together, like a normal date, or is that a bad idea?”

  “We’ll do something tomorrow,” he promised. “After the hearing. It feels so good to talk to you, and . . .” He left it hanging, and looked at the window.

  I knew exactly what that self-control cost him. As I debated the risks of grabbing him and kissing him, he lifted his thumb and caressed the single dimple in my cheek. I leaned into his touch, without meaning to. He leaned down, and his lips replaced his thumb, so softly, and I couldn’t bear it any more. My lips met his, and we twisted together in a long, devouring kiss, and there was the heat and the fire, and I wanted nothing more than to fall on the bed and burn.

  Somewhere remained a spark of sanity. We both broke it off at the same time. “I’d better get out of here.” His voice was gravelly. He cleared his throat.

  Silently I handed him the muffler, which he flung around his neck and lower face. He jammed on the hat.

  “I’ll see if the coast is clear,” I said, moving to the door.

  “We’ve got to find you another place to live,” he muttered as I peered out.

  No one was in the hallway—of course, as mine was the only room occupied at the moment. But downstairs, Madam was bustling around the dining area, putting out fresh tablecloths in hopes of walk-in custom.

  Alec and I exchanged looks; the laughter was back. I ran downstairs and asked Madam about the evening’s menu, positioning myself so that she faced me, with her back to the stairway.

  I could see Tania and Teresa behind the counter, stacking dishes, but that couldn’t be helped. Alec flipped a hand at them and walked out with a quiet step as Madam talked on. I nodded at everything without hearing any of it, and breathed with relief when the door shut on Alec.

  When Madam turned away, the girls looked at me. I mouthed the word “Messenger.” I hated lying to them, but it seemed necessary.

  As I went back upstairs, I thought: If I stay in Dobrenica any longer, maybe it’s time to see about finding a place.

  This time, the nightmares set in about midnight. Car crashes, being burned alive—oh, that was only the start. After an eternity of gasping, clammy wake-ups, I gave up trying to sleep. I took a hot bath, which relaxed my body but left me wide awake. So I dug through my clothes for something that would be practical for climbing out on the roof. Some tights, my boots, my jeans, and three layers of cotton shirt with one of the new soft wool sweater-tops over it should make an okay roof-sitting outfit.

  When I was done, I looked out the window. The sky was brilliant with stars, promising a good view of the solar eclipse in a few hours, if weather didn’t come boiling over the mountains. I spotted a faint rectangle of golden light painted on the snow-blanketed terrace below: Someone else was up.

  I let myself out of the room, moving noiselessly to the head of the stairs, in case the wakeful one was a senior member of the family, maybe in their p.j.s and expecting privacy.

  Tania emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of hot chocolate cups. Theresa appeared a moment later, her silky black hair loose down her skinny back instead of in the ubiquitous braids. She was followed by her friend Miriam. All three wore chenille bathrobes of the sort I vaguely remembered Gran having worn ages ago. I’d loved rubbing my fingers up and down her sleeve.

  I ran downstairs, to be greeted with twin expressions of welcome by the sisters, and beaming delight by Miriam.

  “I saw the reflection of your light,” Tania said, pointing outside. “The nightmares?”

  “You too, I take it.”

  “I haven’t slept,” Tania admitted. “All the cats
are here. No one roaming. They are troubled.”

  Theresa briskly passed out cups. “I heard Mama and Papa saying a rosary in their room. I said mine while Miriam sang her prayer of protection of the home. It calls on extra angels,” she added.

  “Extra?” Tania asked. “Will you sing it? I think we can use the extra help.”

  Miriam shivered, and everyone cast an anxious glance at the holly wreaths in the windows as she sang the ancient Hebrew words in a small, light voice. Then she said, “If I translate, it goes something like this:

  In the name of Adonai

  the God of Israel:

  May the angel Michael be at my right

  and the angel Gabriel be at my left;

  and in front of me the angel Uriel,

  and behind me the angel Raphael,

  and above my head

  the Sh’khinah.”

  “Sheh-khin-ahhh,” Theresa repeated, drawing the word out. “Does that not sound like the perfect word for Divine Presence?”

  Miriam tipped her head in the thoughtful way I remembered from summer, her forehead puzzled. “We agree not to tell the other her way is wrong, but if Theresa believes the way to heaven is as the priests teach, and Katrin’s third cousin up on the mountain thinks the Orthodox is the way to heaven, and Sister Maria’s pen friend in Kosovo, who is Muslim, thinks her way is right, and Katrin’s father says that there is no heaven, when we die we snap out like the electrical lights, then how do you decide who is right?”

  Three pairs of eyes turned my way.

  “Maybe they all have pieces of truth, like my prism? Every day I keep learning how much I don’t know about how the universe works. But here’s something I do know. Miriam, I think that was you and your school friends defending me in front of the opera house, am I right?”

  Theresa grinned in triumph. “That was our class. And everyone joined us, did you hear?”

  Miriam made a sour face. “My grandfather says, that man must have been a hireling.”

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  She shrugged her skinny shoulders. “I don’t know. Grandpapa said, it was in the way this man spoke. Everyone says Lady Ruli, or Madam Statthalter. This man said, ‘your wife.’ But mother says Grandpapa wants to think that everybody in Riev believes the Statthalter innocent, because King Milo’s son would not do such a thing.”

  Now two pairs of eyes studied me, and Tania looked down at her hands.

  “He is innocent,” I said. “I can’t prove it yet, but I know he is.”

  “Hah.” Miriam drank her hot chocolate with a defiant air. “I knew that. Like Grandpapa said, King Milo’s son wouldn’t. If they do not like each other, they would have a divorce. Mother says that nobody has changed that law from the Soviets.”

  “But they were married in church,” Theresa said, looking unhappy. “In church law, there is no divorce.”

  “There can be annulments,” Tania murmured, then reverted to her imitation of a fence post.

  Miriam spread her hands. “Mother says, King Milo’s son or no King Milo’s son, it takes more effort to throw somebody over a cliff, and burn a good automobile as well, than to go to your bishop for an annulment. What I hate is how such rumors make everyone look horrid, especially the Statthalter, who is so handsome, and who everyone knows paid out of his own pocket for the street lamps down in Old Market, when the Council said the taxes must go to the drain treatment plant yet again.” She folded her arms with an air of defiance, then added: “He would have married Lady Rebekah if he did not have to sacrifice their love for the alliance with the Devil’s Mountain people.”

  Theresa stole a look my way, and when she saw me doing my own fence post, she said in a long-suffering voice, “You know it isn’t true. Your own second-cousin, whose aunt lives right at Ridotski House, said they weren’t in love. It was only flirtation.” She flickered another look my way. “Besides, how could he be in love with two people?”

  Miriam glared into her hot chocolate, then fixed me with her wide stare. “That’s true. But Hannah at the dairy said that her cousin at Mecklundburg House heard the family saying that he threw Lady Ruli over the cliff so he could marry you. Yet Tomas Bogdan said that his uncle, who drives an inkri, said that the Statthalter was angry because Lady Ruli had another man in secret.”

  Whoa. Where to start? There was no use in slamdunking the girls for gossiping when it’s human nature to gossip. I gossiped with Nat every chance I could get. We all like speculating about hidden motives and intentions, and so if I harshed all over the girls for gossiping, they would merely stop talking to me.

  But one thing I could try was damage control.

  “I know that the Statthalter was not angry with her. They decided she was to go to Paris to spend Christmas with her family,” I said, then explained my reasons for coming.

  After I got done describing Ruli’s ghost—or apparition, or communiqué—Miriam let out a dramatic sigh. “Of course she would call to you in spirit across the waters! Everyone knows the two of you decided which one was to marry him, for you were seen together in Temple Square. Besides, Lady Rebekah would not befriend an untrustworthy person, everybody knows that.” Miriam nodded so vigorously her glasses bounced on her nose. Fiercely, she said to me, “You will stand up at the trial and smite the false accusers. I wish to be there!”

  Theresa shook her head. “Anna says that it could be months and months before there is any trial. And Grandfather Kezh thinks they will solve everything behind closed doors. Like the hearing today, everyone knows only the very important people will be let in. No one else.”

  “I will be at the trial if I have to sneak in through the rafters,” Miriam stated, her glasses flashing as she lifted her chin. “I shall see justice done.”

  Theresa sighed, as if long accustomed to Miriam’s fervent vows, and shifted the conversation to who among Tania’s pets had stayed in during the storm, and who had shown up safely since. Judging from the many nicknames, Tania had a lot of pets.

  By the time we’d finished up the hot chocolate and the slices of delicious rolled walnut and date bread called petitsa, dawn was only an hour off. Theresa bounced up, piled everything on one of the trays, and bounded off toward the kitchen, Miriam in tow.

  Tania said, “Would you like to come up to my room? The roof is easily reached from there.”

  Everybody fetched coats, scarves, and mittens, then trooped to the attic. We squeezed past a jumble of old furnishings to a neat little door, which opened onto a lovely little room with two dormer windows, under the slanting roof.

  Tania twitched curtains, straightened an already ruler-aligned rug, and fussed around the scrupulously tidy living space. It was cramped and had the musty aroma of many pets, but it wasn’t the nasty smell of untended cages. Fitting under one of the roof slants was a chickenwire screened off area with a kind of basketwork city built for rats. The rest of the room had cats everywhere—at least six curled on the narrow quilt-covered bed, a row of cats in meatloaf shape on the wardrobe, and several on jury-rigged cat scratching posts, with carpet nailed to wood. There were a couple of little houses, with glowing eyes appearing briefly, and I glimpsed a cat tail through a little shuttered window.

  “I hope you do not object to cats,” Tania said, her hands gesturing nervously the way some do when someone else first enters their private space.

  “What a great rat-town you made! And I love the colors in your quilt. It’s so cozy here,” I said, to ease her tension.

  The younger girls appeared, Theresa still drying her hands on her sturdy bathrobe before she wrestled into her coat. “Did you see the cat doors?” She pointed to little slatted doors set below each dormer. “And this one for the rats. We can’t do anything about what happens outside. They will fight, you know, the cats and rats.”

  “I wish they wouldn’t,” Tania whispered.

  “You wish nobody would fight, not people or beast,” Theresa said, patting her sister’s thin shoulder. Then to me, “Which is why
she will not eat meat.”

  Tania fought a yawn, saying, “I just wish they would go out. The wind is not up. Maybe weather is on the way again.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come until after the eclipse.” Theresa pushed open a little door on the other side of the room, directly beneath one of the pointed eaves. She and Miriam pushed their way out, chattering about cats versus rats, and how much noise they made, and was any of it play, or did they always fight to the death?

  I followed the teens out through the roof door, dropping to my hands and knees when I saw that the ridgepole was about the width of a ladder. Tania sauntered with the ease of years of habit, and Theresa and Miriam scrambled about comfortably, exclaiming as they kicked and smacked snow from the ridgepole. In the light from Tania’s room, the snow glittered white on their slippers and mittens.

  I looked around, trying to get used to my perch. The roof was a complication of angles, with a thick, smooth blanket of white where the girls hadn’t marred it.

  As the view cleared, Theresa and Miriam settled themselves where they could not only see the eastern mountains, solid black against the deep midnight blue of the sky, but also the southern end of the city. They leaned out to examine the street below. Tiny golden glows from lanterns, no larger than fireflies at this distance, appeared here and there on the visible streets immediately below us. As the girls discussed who lived where, and who they thought might be outside doing the assignment, Tania was turning in a slow circle, her face serious.

  The scene was peaceful to look at, but wow, was it cold. A few clouds drifted slowly across the sky, stars still glowing. I turned my attention to the streets. No sign of any ghosts, either glowing, smoky, vaporous, or anything else. The back of my neck tightened, however, when I peered into the dark shadows between buildings. The absence of light seemed . . . intense.

  “That’s weird,” I muttered, my breath clouding.

  Tania leaned out so far my stomach dropped and the muscles in the backs of my legs twitched. “Tania?”

  “There. What do you see?”