Hunting Prince Dracula (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 2)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Not everything that thumped and thudded in the night was a monster. I’d clearly heard one too many tales of vampires and werewolves since arriving here. It was all my cursed imagination. Somewhere, deep down, I wanted those strange and deadly tales to be true. Though I was loath to admit it even to myself, there was something terribly appealing about the idea of immortal beings. Perhaps it was the monster inside of me that wished for others, especially those found only in stories.

  Dragging their shrouded package as best they could, the two figures rounded a corner, disappearing from sight. I decided to linger a bit longer. Might as well confirm they were depositing this specimen in the lower morgue before climbing those abysmal tower stairs again so soon. I eyed the giant fern on the opposite side of the hall, wondering if I should simply curl up behind it and sleep until morning.

  A door clicked shut, and I rounded the corner, situating myself in an alcove hidden by a massive tapestry. Shouldn’t be long now. I squatted down, covering my nightgown with my cloak to avoid any pale fabric catching unwanted attention. No need for the castle servants to be aware of my late-night escapades. I buffed my scalpel with the edge of my cloak, recalling one of my favorite Shakespeare quotes: The instruments of darkness tell us truths.

  Needles pricked my toes, warning them they’d be fully numb in moments. I shifted, hoping to ease some life back into my feet. Surely it didn’t take this long to place a body on a table or in a mortuary drawer. Unease wound itself around me until I could barely breathe.

  I closed my eyes. “Of course. Of course this is the sort of night I’m having.”

  I’d not allowed the thought of them entering the secret tunnels to cross my mind. I would not, could not willingly go down into that cursed place alone. The mere thought of following those unknown people into tunnels brimming with bats and other loathsome creatures was enough to make me consider going straight back to my rooms, weapon or not.

  I counted the increasing beats of my heart, knowing what I should do. I had no real weapon. No light source. And no one knew I was out of bed. Should something happen, I’d quite possibly never be found. Moldoveanu certainly wouldn’t send anyone out searching for me.

  That thought brought me upright. My sleep-addled brain wasn’t quite as sharp as it should be. Where were the royal guards? They’d been posted in the halls and outside the morgue each day this week. It was odd I hadn’t encountered any of them already. Though perhaps they only patrolled the main exits and entrances during these late hours. Students were long since tucked away in their beds, dreaming of viscera and science. And the inhabitants of the morgue needn’t be watched over. No one but me saw illusions of them rising.

  I clutched my cloak, wrapping it around my body like armor, and left the sanctuary of my hidden space. I peeked around the corner and released a slow breath. No one in sight. Thrusting my shoulders back, I crept down the hall. Before I could talk myself out of it, I twisted the knob and slipped into the morgue. It was empty and still. Not a thing was disturbed or out of place.

  Except for the trapdoor. That was slightly propped open—an alluring trail of morbid bread crumbs I could not resist following. The same foul scent of rotten meat assaulted my senses as I tiptoed down the broken stone stairs, watchful for signs of traps.

  I prayed no bats were stalking the tunnels tonight. Or spiders. I could do without their long, spindly legs and reflective eyes. Corpses and thieves and foul odors were one thing to contend with in dark, wretched places. Bats and spiders were where I drew the line.

  Once in the tunnel, I oriented myself to the heavy darkness. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the lack of light, and watched the darker shapes of the pair move swiftly, no longer afraid of making noise or rousing students or professors. How many times had they done this? It certainly seemed as if it were a familiar routine.

  I ran a few feet, then paused, waiting for the light of their lantern to fade but not vanish entirely as I scurried from shadow to shadow, remaining far enough behind them to avoid detection.

  They paused at an intersection, holding their lantern to the wall, and traced something there with their fingertips. I made a rough estimate of how high on the wall this object was, hoping to feel what had caught their attention after they’d moved on.

  Continuing down the tunnel—one of the ones Thomas and I had decided against investigating the night we’d discovered the woman’s body—I waited for the shadows to embrace me again. Once I could no longer be seen, I bolted to the corner, groping around the rough stone wall. Cool wind brushed the hemline of my nightgown.

  For a horrifying moment, I imagined spiders crawling up my stockings, and my blood prickled. Breathe, I commanded myself. I could ill afford to have an episode down here, alone. My fingers brushed against sticky webs and things I preferred not to put a name to before slipping into deep-set carvings.

  XI

  I felt around, one eye trained on the tunnel that was nearly black now that the thieves were at its opposite end. XI. That was all there was to the carving. No other letters. Tucking that information away, I sprinted down the next corridor, witnessing the hooded figures do the same thing before continuing on. Each new fork in the tunnel system brought a new set of carvings and a new wave of fear.

  XXIII

  VIII

  I silently repeated the Roman numerals, hoping to be able to retrieve them from my memory for further inspection once I returned to my chambers. Their significance now was a mystery, one I’d have to unravel another time.

  Wings flapped anxiously, drawing my attention up toward the gray ceiling separating me from the upper levels of the castle and ultimately from fresh air and starry skies. I sucked in a few short breaths and focused on the ground, forcing myself to remain calm as the sound intensified. I knew too well what was making that awful flapping. Without waiting to become a meal, I hurried along, placing one foot in front of the other, filling my thoughts with anything other than the creatures flying above me, or the sound of my pulse pounding in my head.

  Moments bled together until I was uncertain if it was night or day, yet the haunting whisper of aerial pursuit persisted. I hated thinking of them swarming out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to attack. I was tempted to find a torch, consequences of being caught be damned. There was only so much terror my body could endure; I feared my heart might stop altogether from overuse.

  “Hurry, hurry,” I urged the figures ahead, praying we would arrive wherever we were headed without being bitten. It seemed as if we’d never leave these cursed corridors. We continued down so many loops and circuits, I worried I’d never find my way back. I heard something scuttle behind me and froze. Praying it wasn’t a newly risen corpse hunting down a warm meal, I grabbed my skirts and hurtled forward, gaze trained on the thieves and the body.

  Finally we came upon a wide expanse where four tunnels met. One of the figures wandered ahead, his light flickering like fireflies in the dank cave as he spun in a slow circle. Darkness loomed from every corner, waiting to swallow us whole.

  I watched the person with the lantern move ahead, growing smaller the farther he walked. The center chamber dipped in the middle, creating a small indent where a silver sheet of water had collected. Light from the lantern reflected as if a small sun were setting on a mirrored horizon. It was strangely lovely for such a terrifying place.

  Too bad the soft flames couldn’t take the chill out of the air or the burning acid out of my intestines. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to breathe normally until I was safely free from bats again. Rubbing my arms, I fought a full-body shiver that tangled its way under my unbound hair.

  It wasn’t simply the temperature that was chilling. These tunnels, like the castle, felt alive somehow, haunted with spirits and otherworldly beings. I imagined a million eyes staring at me from gloomy recesses. Animal or human; I wasn’t sure which was more frightening.

  Blessedly, the figures moved with a new fervor. After briskly traveling through a few more dank tunnels,
silver light edged the walls and ceilings of the last one, indicating an exit was near. An owl hooted in the distance, its eerie call answered by another. I remained in the corner of a tunnel set farther back, waiting for the cloaked thieves to steal into the night. The air here was fresh and smelled of pine. I wanted to drop to my knees and worship the frigid outdoors, but kept back, waiting for the corpse robbers to continue.

  It didn’t take long for the thieves to exit into the moonlight, their prize dragging behind. I watched each step I took, mindful of any leaves or twigs that might have blown in and would crack beneath my weight. I scarcely breathed until I’d made it to the barrier between the castle and the outdoors, my fingertips trailing against the rough stone walls.

  Peering from the mouth of the tunnel, I scanned the frozen world. Tree branches twisted and creaked, annoyed by the intrusion when the human world should have been still. Keeping my eyes locked onto the retreating forms, I crept down the earthen path, my nightgown pale as the snow-dusted ground beneath my cloak.

  Flurries fell from the sky, light and silent. Shivers gnawed at my bones through the thick cotton, but I kept my gaze fixed on the shadows before me, who were lurching through the woods with their mysterious bundle slumped between them. There was no way I’d turn back now, no matter if the winter night bit through my clothing and punctured my skin.

  I heard the heavy tread of boots stomping frozen earth and fell back a few steps. A shadow flickered across the sky, dragging my attention away from the hooded thieves. The moon cracked a half-smile, its expression mocking those who dared leave their warm beds to trespass in Vlad the Impaler’s forest of bones. I wrapped my cloak even tighter around myself.

  Stopping abruptly at the edge of a fork in the path, the figures appeared to be arguing over which direction to take as they carefully put down the shrouded body. I squinted. There was something strange about its shape. It was lumpy and smelled of… it couldn’t be garlic. Memories of the victim from the train came to the forefront of my mind. It very well could be garlic, though the amount they’d have to had stuffed the corpse with would be extraordinary if I could detect it from this distance. My senses were good, but I was no immortal being.

  I watched them pick the corpse back up and amble down the path. If the body had been stuffed with garlic, perhaps one of the thieves was the Impaler. Maybe he was working with someone else. Like Wilhelm’s bloodless body, this very well might be another staged strigoi attack.

  I hesitated. Following corpse thieves into the woods was one thing; blindly pursuing someone who might have impaled two people was quite another. The scalpel I carried would be no match against the two men.

  A twig snapped behind me.

  I slowly turned around, pulse roaring in my ears.

  Moldoveanu crossed his arms, staring down at me as if I’d gone and made his evening.

  “Curfew has been imposed for all students. Yet here you are, marching into the forest as if it were your birthright, Miss Wadsworth.” I had half a mind to shush him, but I kept my jaw locked. Moldoveanu jerked his chin toward a shadow that withdrew itself from the massive trees near the castle’s exterior. My earlier nightmare sprung to life in the form of an arrogant royal guard. “Escort her inside. I’ll deal with her disciplinary action in the morning.”

  Dăneşti stepped forward, his glare powerful enough to make me wilt. A rough hand was around my arm an instant later, yanking me away from the forest line. I stared at Dăneşti as he pulled me forward, wondering how on earth he’d been tasked with curfew watch. Perhaps he’d been demoted for being so unpleasant.

  “Wait!” I cried, squirming from his grasp. I thrashed around until I faced the headmaster. “A body was stolen from the tower morgue. Two thieves in hoods dragged it through here just moments ago. That’s the only reason I left my chambers.” A muscle in Moldoveanu’s jaw twitched. “See for yourself. They were right ahead of me. I think one of them might be the Impaler. The body smelled of garlic. They are—”

  I blinked at the forest, eerily quiet as if it were holding its breath, waiting for Moldoveanu’s verdict. The owls didn’t even dare to hoot. I stared ahead at the undisturbed trail where the thieves had just been; no footprints were visible as snow fell with more abandon.

  No sign of the figures I knew I’d seen or the body they’d taken. It was as if the forest were cleansing itself of wrongdoing, concealing a crime I was sure had taken place.

  “Tell me. Does your imagination always run so… colorfully? Perhaps these ‘thieves’ you speak of were nothing more than kitchen staff, preparing for the morning meal. The excess food stores are located down that path, Miss Wadsworth.”

  “But… I swear…” I hardly knew anymore. I glanced to where Dăneşti had been hiding, but he wouldn’t have seen them from the corner of the castle. And if the excess food stores were down there, then he might not have paid much attention to servants doing their jobs.

  The headmaster didn’t even bother looking in the direction I’d pointed out. “Until further notice, you are on academic probation, Miss Wadsworth. This sort of erratic behavior might be acceptable in London, but you’ll find we take things a bit more seriously here. One more word from you, and I will lose my remaining patience and send you from this castle at once.”

  Dear Liza,

  After reading your last correspondence, I took a great deal of time thinking it over. I believe you’re right, though I know you likely didn’t doubt that. I realized that I was hurt and angry. Thomas’s misguided actions arose not from a lack of affection on his part but from a misunderstanding of how he might offer the correct support. (Which clearly does not include warning professors of my emotional state.)

  I have other worries, though. Ones that I’m frightened to even put a name to. Please burn this letter once you’ve read it, and tell no one of its contents. I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. One student was found dead and an unidentified body was discovered here in a matter of weeks. One showed no outward signs of murder, and the other had perished from… more horrendous measures. Yet both of their bodies had been drained completely of blood. Ghastly to speak of; I do apologize. I also haven’t heard from a friend here in nearly a week and I’m worried for her.

  I won’t be able to travel home for the Christmas holiday due to severe weather and lack of time off, but I will write often to make up for it. Thomas’s family keeps a house in Bucharest and his sister has invited us to a ball there, and I haven’t a clue what I’ll wear to such an event. I left my most cherished dresses at home. Silly to speak of such frivolity when there are many worse things happening.

  Has Aunt Amelia given any more thought to you touring the Continent? Thomas’s sister, Miss Daciana Cresswell, has promised to write her on your behalf. Perhaps you might ask your mother to reconsider and grant you permission as a holiday gift. Or maybe she would agree to us traveling to America? I should love to spend time there and visit Grandmama. We might be able to persuade my grandmother to speak on our behalf as well. You know how convincing Grandmama can be.

  Apologies for not sending along a more detailed note. I must dash off to bed. Anatomy lesson is first thing in the morning. It’s by far my favorite class (even though the headmaster is an awful brute). How surprising, I’m sure.

  Your loving cousin,

  AR

  P.S. How is my father? Please give him a hug from me and tell him I shall write soon. I miss him terribly and worry he’ll fall under the spell of his laudanum in my absence. Be wary of him locking himself in his study. No good ever comes of that.

  TOWER CHAMBERS

  CAMERE DIN TURN

  BRAN CASTLE

  14 DECEMBER 1888

  Unease of my letter to Liza falling into anyone else’s hands had me delivering it to the castle’s outgoing post first thing in the morning. After I returned, I watched from the doorway of my tower rooms as an uninvited guest tiptoed across the sitting area and made his way toward my bedroom as if he had every right to it. Truly, it
was remarkable how confident he could be while doing something wrong in every possible manner.

  I hadn’t the slightest notion what he was up to, but the scoundrel would likely have an interesting excuse. Since I’d been escorted to my rooms, I hadn’t yet had the opportunity of discussing the events of the previous evening with him. Ileana still hadn’t been available to attend to me, so I’d sent a note via the new chambermaid, and had told him to meet me after class.

  In the master library.

  We were supposed to have met ten minutes ago, but even though I hadn’t been permitted to attend Moldoveanu’s class, I was running shamefully behind. Prior to writing and delivering my letter, I’d spent much of the morning reading anything I could about the castle and had lost track of time. I cleared my throat, satisfied when he flipped around, brows practically touching his hairline.

  “Oh, hello. I thought you were in the library? It’s impolite to lie to your friends, Wadsworth.”

  “Do I even dare ask why you’re sneaking about my private chambers, Cresswell?” His gaze darted to my open bedchamber door, calculating Lord only knew what. He was only a few paces from it, less if he used his long-limbed advantage. “Or shall we pretend as if you weren’t being the indecent scoundrel I know you to be?”

  “Why weren’t you in class?” Thomas shifted from one foot to the other. There was a rather large package partially hidden behind his back. I moved into the sitting room, peering around him, but he danced back a step. “Uh-uh-uh,” he sang. “This is called a surprise, Wadsworth. Go on about your business and leave me to it. You know I wouldn’t scorn you for entering my bedroom. Being as I’m such a scoundrel.”

  I moved closer to where he stood, eyes narrowed. “You broke into my chambers. Now you want me to leave you alone to do whatever manner of mischief you’re up to? Doesn’t seem very logical.”