Hunting Prince Dracula (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 2)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Thomas stood there as if he were photographing each detail of this moment to revisit time and again during the frigid winter months. A bit of warmth to cling to when the snow froze his black little heart. Then, without warning, he burst from his daze.

  “Daciana!”

  Without a backward glance, Thomas bolted for the girl and lifted her in a swinging embrace, leaving me all but forgotten.

  THOMAS’S CHAMBERS

  CAMERA LUI THOMAS

  BRAN CASTLE

  3 DECEMBER 1888

  As I watched Thomas and the dark-haired beauty lose themselves in whispered chatter, my own heart shriveled up within my jealous skin. He was allowed to court whomever he wanted. No promises had been made or agreed upon.

  And yet… my stomach churned as I watched Thomas with someone else. He might be free to do whatever he liked, but that did not mean I wanted to witness it. Especially at midnight in his chambers.

  I stood near a deep blue settee, trying to force myself to smile, but knew it appeared too brittle. It was hardly the girl’s fault Thomas was paying her so much attention, and I refused to dislike her because of my own newfound insecurity. After what seemed like a year of slow torture, Thomas wrested himself from Daciana’s grasp. He took two steps toward me, then halted, head tilting to one side as he surveyed me.

  It took most of my effort to not cross my arms over my chest and glare. I watched as he drank in every blasted detail—each exclamation of emotion I failed to hide from his lengthy read of me.

  “You do know that expression is my favorite.” He smiled broadly, and I wished one hundred unpleasant things to befall him at once. “So delectable.”

  He stalked closer, a confident air in his gait, his gaze never leaving mine, practically pinning me to the ground as if I were a specimen in our old laboratory. Before I could stop him, he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a long, chaste kiss to it. Warmth rose from my toes to my hairline, but I didn’t pull my hand away.

  “Daciana”—he smirked at the reaction he’d teased from me—“this is the enchanting young woman I’ve been writing about. My beloved Audrey Rose.” He kept my hand tucked into his arm and nodded at the other girl. “And this is my sister, Wadsworth. I believe you saw her photograph in our family’s flat on Piccadilly Street. I told you she was almost as lovely as I. If you look closely enough, you’ll see those irresistible Cresswell genes.”

  A memory of seeing the picture flashed before me, and shame covered my tongue. It tasted bitter and foul. How very foolish of me! His sister. I shot him a miserable look as I removed my hand, and he laughed outright. He was enjoying this situation entirely too much. I realized he’d orchestrated the entire setup to gauge my reaction.

  The fiend.

  “It’s so very nice to meet you,” I said, doing a terrible job of keeping my voice steady. “Please forgive my surprise; Thomas kept your visit a secret. Will you be studying here, too?”

  “Oh, heavens no.” Daciana laughed. “I’m traveling through the Continent with friends on a Grand Tour.” She squeezed her brother’s arm in a loving manner. “Thomas deigned to send a letter and said I should visit if I found myself in the area. Lucky for him, I just happened to be in Bucharest.”

  “My cousin Liza will be ten shades of green once I write to her,” I said. “She’s been trying to convince my aunt to send her on a Grand Tour for ages. I swear she’d run off with the circus if it meant visiting new countries.”

  “Honestly, it’s the best way of becoming cultured.” Daciana looked me up and down, a sly smile matching her brother’s lighting her features. “I’ll write to your aunt and beg on your cousin’s behalf. I’d love to have another traveling companion.”

  “That would be lovely,” I said. “Though Aunt Amelia can be a bit… hard to persuade.”

  “Fortunately, I’ve had experience with difficult people.” She glanced at her brother, who did his best to pretend as if he hadn’t heard.

  Thomas poured himself a cup of tea on the other side of the room, and I felt his attention on me as Daciana hugged me close. Her warmth filled the broken bits of myself with that brief contact. I hadn’t been truly embraced in a long while.

  “So…” she drawled, looping an arm through mine. “How was traveling with my brother and Mrs. Harvey? Did she sip from her traveling tonic the whole time?”

  “She did.” I laughed. “Thomas was… Thomas.”

  “He’s a special sort.” She gave me a knowing grin. “Honestly, I’m pleased he hasn’t scared you off with his mystical ‘powers of deduction.’ He’s really quite sweet once you move past that sour exterior.”

  “Oh, is he? I hadn’t noticed this mythical sweet side.”

  “Aside from those walls he puts up for work, he’s truly one of the best people in the world,” Daciana said proudly. “Being his sister, I’m only partially biased, naturally.”

  I smiled. I knew he was still watching, his attention a soft caress from the moment his sister hugged me, but now I pretended not to notice. “I’m curious, what else did he say about me?” I finally glanced in his direction, but he was now studiously engaged in staring into his cup as if he could read the tea leaves and divine his future.

  “Oh, lots of things.”

  “What do we have here?” Thomas interrupted, yanking the lid off one of the platters with a clang. “I had your favorite sent up, Daci. Who’s hungry?”

  Before Daciana could offer any more of his secrets, Thomas handed her a glass of wine and ushered us over to a little table.

  Daciana took a long pull from her glass, her gaze carving into me in nearly the same fashion as Thomas’s. I watched as she eyed the pear-shaped ring on my finger, one of my most precious possessions.

  I fought the urge to hide my hands beneath the table, lest she take offense where none was intended. Her focus slid up to the heart-shaped locket on my neck—another token I was hardly ever without. I was not inclined to discuss my mother tonight nor allow my thoughts to stumble into those darkened alleyways of treacherous memory.

  “Forgive me,” she said, “but does your affection for forensic medicine have anything to do with the loss you’ve suffered?” She nodded toward the ring. “I assume that diamond belonged to your mother. And that necklace as well?”

  “How—” I shot an accusing glare at Thomas as my hand inadvertently found the heart clasped near my throat.

  “Easy now. It’s a family trait, Wadsworth,” he said, spooning food onto a plate for me. “However, I doubt you’ll be as impressed by my sister. I’m much smarter. And handsomer. Obviously.”

  Daciana shot her brother an exasperated look. “I apologize, Audrey Rose. I simply noted that ring and its style and assumed your mother had passed on. I did not mean to offend.”

  “Your brother noticed the same thing a few months ago,” I said, dropping my hand. “It took me by surprise, is all. He’d not mentioned you possessed the same… ability to read the obvious.”

  “Quite the obnoxious sibling trait.” Daciana smiled. “Has he told you anything about it?”

  I shook my head. “It’s easier to pry information from the dead than get Thomas to open up about himself.”

  “True enough.” Daciana tossed her head back and laughed. “It was a game we used to play as children. At dinner parties, we’d study the adults around us, guessing their secrets and earning coins to keep them to ourselves. Noblemen aren’t keen on having their private affairs made public. Our mother used to host the most thrilling parties.” She swirled the wine around in her glass. “Has Thomas ever told you—”

  “That perhaps wine is not such a good idea on an empty stomach?” he supplied, clearly hoping to steer the conversation away from their mother.

  It seemed fate was a fan of Thomas as a knock suddenly interrupted us. Ileana stepped in and dipped her head. “Your rooms are ready, domnişoară.”

  Daciana beamed.

  “It was wonderful finally meeting you, Audrey Rose.” She whispered somethin
g to Ileana in Romanian and flashed me another grin. “Oh, there may be a surprise waiting for you in your chambers. A little gift from me to you. Enjoy.”

  “Perhaps I should accompany Audrey Rose back to her rooms,” Thomas offered innocently. “It would be prudent to make sure this surprise doesn’t have fangs. Or claws.”

  “Nice try, sweet brother.” Daciana patted his cheek lovingly. “Do try to maintain the appearance of being a gentleman.”

  I bid Thomas good night as I climbed the stairs alone to my tower. Once inside, the fragrance hit me straight away. I entered my bathing chamber and halted.

  Flower petals so deeply red they appeared black floated on top of scented water, steam lifting itself in great huffs; someone had just filled the tub and sprinkled intoxicating essences in. Daciana’s gift was scented petals—quite a luxury for a forensic student in the mountains.

  I removed my gloves and gently stroked the surface of the water, enjoying the ripples left in my fingers’ wake. My body screamed with desire. I couldn’t wait to soak in the bath. It had been such a long day, and the corpse of Wilhelm had been awful… A bath would rinse it all away, cleansing and comforting.

  I glanced at a clock above the mantel in this room. It was almost twelve-thirty. I could luxuriate in the water for half an hour and be in bed before it was too horridly late. Without further thought, I unbuttoned the front of my gown and let it hit the floor, thankful it was something I could do without assistance. My maid from home and I had purposely chosen simple dresses that I could manage on my own; I didn’t think the academy would offer a personal attendant.

  I stepped from my satin layers and into the hot water, the liquid enveloping me like molten lava as I pinned my hair to my crown and sank down to my shoulders. The water was so warm my skin prickled at first, unsure if the new sensation was good or bad.

  It was most decidedly very good for my sore muscles. I groaned at how soothing it felt.

  For a few relaxing breaths, my mind drifted in any direction of its choosing. For a scandalous moment, I imagined Thomas soaking in his own tub and wondered what the planes of his bare shoulders looked like as they met the steam. Would he give me a cocky grin like the one he wore in public, or would that rare glimpse of vulnerability be present on his sensuous mouth before he pressed it to my own?

  Heart pounding, I splashed the perfumed water on my face. The scoundrel held power over my senses when he wasn’t even around. I prayed he wouldn’t be able to deduce my wanton daydreams in the morning.

  As I pushed those thoughts from my mind, darker ones filled in the crevices. Each time I closed my eyes I saw the corpses of the slain prostitutes from the Ripper murders, their bodies torn savagely apart. Whenever I was alone, I’d revisit their crime scenes, wondering if there was something I could have done differently. Some other clue I’d overlooked that could have stopped him sooner. Regret wouldn’t bring the dead back, this I knew, yet I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly reexamining my actions.

  “What if” were the two most tragic words in existence when paired together. “If only” were no better when coupled off. If only I’d seen the signs sooner. Perhaps I could have…

  Whirl-churn. Whirl-churn.

  I lurched from the bath, water dripping noisily from my naked body into the tub. Each drop seemed to echo in the small chamber, spiking my adrenaline like mortuary needles. I held my breath and listened hard, waiting for that unmistakable sound to reveal itself once more. A few twigs cracked and popped in the fireplace, and I jumped, nearly slipping on the slick surface of the tub. I breathed in, then out, listening as blood pounded my ears.

  Nothing. I’d heard nothing.

  There was no steam-powered heart. No sinister laboratory. No flesh-covered machinery. Just my mind taunting me with images I wished to forget as I drifted between sleep and waking. I lifted a trembling hand to my head, noticing how my skin burned beneath my touch. Gooseflesh puckered along my arms and legs. I hoped I hadn’t contracted whatever Wilhelm had been wrecked by.

  I glanced around until I found my orchid-dyed dressing robe, hanging from a hook on the door. I slipped the cool silk on, fighting shivers as I exited the bathing chamber. I was thankful I hadn’t gotten my hair wet. I pressed my hands to my center, willing my nerves to steady.

  And that’s when I heard it. A sound that was not brought on by specters haunting my half-sleeping thoughts. Whispered voices came from the next room. I was sure of it. The room where the bodies were stored. I moved quietly to the bedroom wall and laid my ear against it. Someone was having a rather heated fight, though it was physical, not verbal, from what I could deduce.

  Something smacked against the wall, and I drew back, pulse roaring. Was it a body?

  Curiosity was a disease that plagued me, and I’d yet to find a cure. Deciding that I would learn nothing by staying where I was, I moved into the sitting room, plucked a poker from the fireplace, and slowly inched my door open. I could barely think with the chorus of anxiety singing through my veins. Thankfully, there was no telltale creaking as I drew the door wider; my heart might have burst if there was. I waited a beat, listening intently, before sticking my head into the hall, the poker gripped tightly in my damp hands.

  Without further hesitation, I crept down the corridor, sticking to the shadows, and paused before a partially closed door. I heard the rustling of material, followed by a soft groan. I imagined some horror taking place. Which seemed to be a reality as the muffled sounds coming from the room intensified. Someone gasped, only to have the noise smothered from existence—a candle being snuffed in the night.

  I found my own breath coming in sharp intakes. Had the murderer from the train followed us here? Perhaps the rustling noise was the sound of a homicide in progress. My rational mind told me to go back to bed, that my imagination was running mad once more, but I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure.

  I moved toward the noises, gripping my weapon, as my blood thrashed in my veins. I was almost at the door to the morgue, which was open a crack. I inched around to peer inside. One more step. My breathing hitched, but I refused to yield. I braced myself for something dreadful and craned my neck around the doorframe. Flashes of another time when I crept into a place I shouldn’t have swept across my thoughts. I paused, allowing myself another breath. This was not the Ripper case. I was not about to uncover his depraved laboratory.

  It seemed I would never learn my lesson and run for help before diving into turbulent waters. I steeled my nerves and pushed the door open a bit more. I swore my heart was running in the opposite direction.

  I would scream as loudly as I could and wield my poker. Then I’d run.

  I readied myself for the worst as I glanced inside. Two figures were locked together, in a darkened corner, hands drifting over each other everywhere as if they were… I gasped.

  “I I’m so sorry.” I blinked, completely and utterly unprepared for the sight before me. “I thought—”

  Daciana dabbed at her crimson mouth with her free hand, face flushing as she released the skirts bunched in her other fist. “I… I can explain.”

  BODY STORAGE, TOWER CHAMBERS

  DEPOZIT DE CADAVRE, CAMERE DIN TURN

  BRAN CASTLE

  3 DECEMBER 1888

  “I—I’m so very… I heard noises and, and I thought—I’m dreadfully sorry.” I stuttered over an apology, my gaze traveling from Daciana’s disheveled hair to the woman she’d been kissing, their hands still entwined and their skirts rumpled.

  I tore my gaze from their wrinkled clothes, unsure where to look. I was fairly certain the mystery guest wasn’t wearing anything beneath her shirt. Those stone-colored eyes blinked back at me…

  “Ileana?”

  Shock must have addled my brain for me not to have noticed it was her straightaway.

  “I… I didn’t mean to… intrude.” I sank my teeth into my lower lip so hard I nearly drew blood as Ileana cringed back. “I didn’t see… anything.”

  Daciana o
pened her mouth, then shut it.

  “I…” I searched for something to say—something to break the tension coiled around each of us, choking words away, but hardly knew where to start. Every attempt at apologizing seemed to put Ileana further on edge. I feared if I attempted another apology she might run from this chamber and never come back.

  As if recovering from her own surprise at being discovered, Daciana suddenly drew herself up and lifted her chin. “I make no apologies, if that’s what you’re after. Do you take issue with our affection?”

  “O of course not.” I blinked, horrified by her conclusion. “I would never.”

  I glanced at the two cadavers on nearby tables covered under white shrouds. It was a morbid place to steal kisses, though it should have been the least likely place to be discovered by nosy castle occupants. And it would have been perfect—if I hadn’t shown up. My face burned.

  I was frozen with indecision on how to exit the morgue. Both girls stared at me—then at each other—and I wished for the floor to transform into a giant mouth and swallow me whole. Blast that magic didn’t truly exist when one needed a fast escape. My entire body was aflame with mortification after being caught spying.

  “I… I hope to see you both tomorrow,” I said, feeling as if I were the most awkward person alive. “Good night.”

  Without waiting for a scolding, I burst into the hallway and ran for my chambers. I shut the door and pressed my back against it, covering my burning face with my hands. If Daciana or Ileana wanted to remain acquainted with me now, it would be the closest thing to a miracle the world had ever known. Foolish. I was so ridiculously foolish to be pulled by the lure of curiosity! Of course no intruder was here, killing classmates. Jack the Ripper was dead. The murderer from the train had no interest in hunting academy students.

  It was time for me to accept that and move forward with my life.