Hunting Prince Dracula (Stalking Jack the Ripper Book 2)

by Kerri Maniscalco

  Thomas stopped moving and grinned lazily. I noticed the tautness in his muscles, though, and knew he was anything other than a relaxed, bored member of the House of Dracula. “Very charming of you, but bowing before me is entirely unnecessary. Though I do understand the urge to do so. I’m rather regal and impressive. Prince Dracula, however, is not my true title.”

  I could not believe his posturing appeared to be working. Anastasia swallowed, focus following Thomas’s hands as they adjusted his ruined shirt. He almost convinced me that he had donned royal robes and was worthy of being bowed before. Instead of standing in the sodden, filthy clothes he’d been dragged through Hell in.

  Anastasia shifted her revolver, aiming directly at Thomas. “Do not mock your own bloodline, Mr. Cresswell. Bad things happen when one turns against their own. It is time to come forth and accept your destiny, Son of the Dragon. It is time for us to merge our bloodlines and reclaim this entire land.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, glancing between them. “Who are you descended from?”

  Anastasia threw her shoulders back, head held high. It was an impressive feat considering the gore smeared all over her; yet she did possess a regal air.

  “Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed.”

  “Of course,” Thomas muttered. “Also known as the Countess Dracula.”

  For a moment no one spoke or moved. I recalled the brief mention of the countess in Radu’s class and fought a shiver.

  “So you know it’s fate.” Anastasia’s eyes glittered with pride. “You see, I hail from a house equally known for its bloodlust, Audrey Rose. My ancestor bathed in the blood of innocents. She ruled with fear.” Anastasia pointed to Thomas. “He and I? We were destined to meet. As we are destined to produce heirs more fearsome than their ancestors. Destin. I had no idea the stars had so much planned! You are a minor inconvenience. One easily taken care of.”

  I didn’t so much as breathe. So Anastasia was a displaced heiress in search of her birthright. And she did not care how she reclaimed it, through force or love. If she thought she could hunt Thomas, coerce him into marriage, and murder me in the process, she’d no idea who I was.

  I clenched my fists, more determined than ever to keep her talking while I plotted our escape. “How did you murder the man on the train—and why?”

  My former friend stared at me for a beat, eyes narrowed. I silently prayed that her need to boast would be tempting enough for her to answer my questions without seeing my true motive. “The Order of the Dragon lives. I wanted to cleanse their ranks. These days, they are mostly composed of that inconsequential Dăneşti line.”

  She pointed the revolver toward where Prince Nicolae lay, limp as a rag doll, skin discolored from what I assumed was arsenic, punctures now visible on his neck. It appeared as if she’d used his blood the way her ancestor had—by bathing in it, leaving barely enough to keep him alive. If he even still lived. His chest no longer appeared to be rising and falling with breath.

  “The man from the train was a high-ranking member. I slipped him a lethal dose of arsenic, then impaled him as he gasped for breath.” Anastasia sounded as if she were recalling a dress she had made from fine silks. “I had no idea it was outside your compartment. A happy coincidence. I then raced back to my room. No one noticed the girl with dark hair. Wigs are distracţie excelentă. I worried that Wilhelm might eventually recognize me, though. He needed to be dealt with immediately.”

  A memory of that morning flashed across my mind—I had seen a girl with dark hair. She’d cried out for a doctor. I’d been so consumed with the chaos that I hadn’t paid attention to her face.

  Thomas crossed his arms over his chest, taking on that bored tone once more. “Where is my sister?”

  “How should I know? I am not anyone’s keeper.” Anastasia jerked her chin toward me, then gestured at a weapon on Nicolae’s belt. “Give Dracula’s heir the knife.”

  Thomas’s eyes widened as he glanced in my direction. I nearly cried with relief. In her fervor to unite their bloodlines, she hadn’t realized that she’d just handed us a way to defeat her. My palms grew slick with the rush of nerves.

  I pressed the small jeweled dagger into Thomas’s hand and held my breath, worried any show of excitement might alert Anastasia to her grievous mistake. She grinned, attention latched onto the blade now residing in Thomas’s steady grasp.

  “End him,” she said to Thomas. “Do it quickly.”

  “Why poison?” I asked, stalling. There had to be a way out of this that didn’t involve murdering Nicolae.

  Anastasia pointed the revolver at my throat. It seemed my former friend had considered mutiny after all. She walked to Nicolae and nudged him with her foot, gun still aimed at me.

  “Arsenic is a wonder.” She bent down, brushing strands of dark hair back from the prince’s face. “It’s tasteless, colorless, and can be slipped into all manner of food and drink. A young prince never turns down wine, it seems.”

  “If you’re attempting to instill the same fear Vlad Dracula did in his opponents,” Thomas said, “poisoning Nicolae and the others hardly seems frightening.”

  Anastasia moved a hand to Nicolae’s neck, checking for a pulse. “Isn’t it, though? Arsenic is used to weaken and incapacitate the victims, not kill. It would have proven too difficult for me to fight young men, and the murders too messy.”

  “You wanted villagers to believe the stories of Dracula rising,” I said, suddenly understanding. “You couldn’t very well stab people and then claim their blood had been dined upon by a strigoi.”

  “Legends are meant to inspire fear.” Anastasia stood. “They must be larger than the life we lead in order to maintain their lure for generations. Don’t go into the woods after sunset. We never think of a beautiful princess lurking in the night forest, do we? No. We imagine bloodthirsty demons. Vampires. Night reminds us that we’re also prey. We’re terrified and thrilled by the prospect of being hunted.”

  “I still don’t understand one thing, though,” I said, gaze trailing from Nicolae’s limp form to Anastasia’s blood-coated body. “Why murder the maid?”

  “That particular murder was homage paid to my ancestor. Now, then. Thomas,” she swung the gun back to my forehead, “end Prince Nicolae’s life now. I have hunted down Dracula’s heir. We may begin fresh. New. We will rise as Prince and Countess Dracula. Reclaim both this castle and your life.”

  Tension coiled around the room, a match ready to set this battle ablaze. Thomas took an unsteady step back, focus flicking from Nicolae to the gun now at my head. I did not want him to do something he’d spend the rest of his life regretting. Thomas Cresswell was not Vlad Dracula. His life had not been built upon creating death, but on solving it. He was a light carving through the darkness like a scythe. But I knew he’d destroy himself to save me and not give it a second thought.

  “Why involve Thomas?” I blurted. “If you’re the Countess Dracula, why make him kill?”

  Anastasia stared at me as if I were the one who no longer made sense. “Thomas is the last male blood relative of the Impaler Lord. It is symbolic to have him end the life of this false prince, reclaim his bloodline, and bring ruin to the academy. No one will want to attend an academy where the students have died gruesomely under mysterious circumstances. Once the academy is no more, we can take it as our rightful home.”

  “What of the current king and queen?”

  “Have you not been paying attention?” Anastasia demanded. “Arsenic will end their lives, too. I’ll go through each noble household until Thomas’s claim is the only one left. I will succeed in destroying the Order that way, too.”

  At that proclamation, two cloaked figures stepped forward. They’d been hidden behind the piles of bones surrounding us. I’d thought I’d lost the ability to be surprised, but I gasped when the taller figure flung its hood back and swept the cloak away from its weapons.

  Daciana stood before us, clad in breeches and a tunic, wearing the insignia of the dragon
along with more knives than Uncle had scalpels in his laboratory. Thomas flashed her an incredulous yet relieved look and kept the jeweled dagger firmly in his grip.

  “There won’t be any more killing tonight, Contesă,” she said with a mock bow, a blade now directed toward Anastasia. “Ileana, please disarm her.”

  The second figure removed its hood, and my breathing stilled. My attention snapped to Thomas, unsure if my mind were playing tricks on me. Perhaps I was having an elaborate nightmare and I’d wake soon, sweaty and tangled in my sheets. His sister and Ileana were… realization crashed through me the same instant it did for Thomas.

  He met my gaze and shook his head, an expression of absolute wonder etched into his features. There was something oddly satisfying about him missing a piece of the puzzle for once.

  Anastasia glanced from Thomas to Daciana and Ileana, confusion giving way to anger. She swung her weapon toward Nicolae’s chest.

  “How dare you?” she screamed, staring at Ileana. “I worked everything out, everything! You—a pitiful maid—have no right!”

  “Stand down, Anastasia,” Ileana said, in the tone of someone used to giving orders that were followed. “You have două seconds before—”

  “I have no need to obey you!” Anastasia thrust herself forward, eyes blazing as she pulled the hammer of the gun back to execute Nicolae. But Ileana was faster. Her sword went directly through Anastasia’s body. I stared, horrified, as she slid down the blade, licking deep red blood from her lips, and laughed.

  “Ucis… de… o servitoare,” Anastasia gasped, fresh blood now dripping from her mouth to blend with the red pool on the ground. “A Báthory murdered by a maid. How fitting.”

  She laughed again, blood bubbling up her throat. No one attempted to help her while she lay dying, asphyxiating on her own life force. It was too late. Like the man she’d murdered on the train, Wilhelm Aldea, the girl from the village and her husband, and the maid Mariana, there was no bringing her back from Death’s Dominion now.

  It was a sight I knew would haunt me, along with the Ripper murders, for the rest of my life.

  Order of the Dragon, c. 1400s.

  CRYPT

  CRIPTĂ

  BRAN CASTLE

  22 DECEMBER 1888

  I stared at the blood slowly dripping from the tip of Ileana’s sword, words stuffed inside my throat, practically choking me. That was the only reason I hadn’t vomited all over Anastasia’s impaled body. My friend. I watched the life leave her eyes and was horrified by the serenity that befell her, though her entire body was covered in the black and red of both dried and fresh blood.

  Thomas rubbed his hands along my arms, but it wasn’t enough to take the chill from deep within my soul. Ileana, the girl I knew as my maid, was part of a secret warrior society and had cut a woman down as if she were spearing a chunk of hard cheese. Right before my very eyes. Though Anastasia was hardly innocent in the matter. I knew Ileana had had no choice and yet… I sank against Thomas, too tired to worry about what anyone might think of my lack of decorum.

  “Are you all right, Audrey Rose?” Ileana accepted a cloth from Daciana and wiped down her blade, blood streaking across the silver at first before disappearing with the next swipe.

  “Of course,” I said automatically.

  “All right” was such a relative term. My heart was beating, my body functioning and alive. On the surface I was most certainly all right. It was my mind that wanted to curl up and hibernate from the world and all the harshness within it. I was tired of destruction.

  Thomas removed his gaze from Anastasia’s body and shifted it toward his sister. I could see his mind whirling around from one fact to the next. It was a way for him to cope with the devastation, I realized. He needed to work the puzzle out to find his calm center amidst a raging storm.

  “How?” he asked.

  Daciana knew precisely what he was asking. “When I turned eighteen, I received a partial inheritance from Mother. Some of her possessions—jewels, finery, art—and a bundle of letters. At first the letters were just little bits of her… stories of how she met Father. How much she loved and cherished us. Birthday cards she’d prewritten for me. A note for when I married.” Ileana brushed a tear from Daciana’s cheek. “For a long while, I couldn’t bring myself to read more. Then, one snowy afternoon, we were trapped inside. I took out the letters again and read one. Then flipped through toward the end.”

  “And?” Thomas asked. “Please keep the suspense short.”

  “Mother told stories of nobles who still believed in the ways of the Order. Who longed for corruption to be eradicated from the governing system. They approached her because of our family ties. Not to become a member herself, but to offer a safe space for them to gather. Do you remember the dragon painting in her chambers?”

  Thomas nodded, face grimmer than I’d ever seen it before. I recalled the drawing he’d created on the train, and the story he’d shared about his memory of it.

  “It was an honor bestowed upon your family line. And still is,” Ileana said quietly.

  “The Order would like you to consider offering your services, Thomas,” Daciana said. “We need honest people who are unafraid of rooting out the corrupt.”

  There was an extended moment of silence while Thomas considered this.

  “In essence, the Order is simply a vigilante group.” He studied his sister and Ileana. “They are not the law, but believe they may uphold it better than the rulers.”

  “No,” Daciana’s eyes widened, “we do not believe that at all! The Order simply means to keep the balance. To quite literally maintain order. Power often corrupts. It is a wise man—or woman—who accepts their role as one part of a whole. We are simply a line of defense. The royal family asked for our help.”

  While Thomas peppered his sister with more questions, Ileana inspected me a bit too closely for comfort.

  “We’ve all endured a long evening, so I’ll keep this brief,” she interrupted. “I am a high-ranking member of the Ordo Draconum. Our mission has always been to maintain order and peace. Once it was for the Dracula family; now it’s for nobility and commoners alike. Our loyalty is to our country. Which includes all of our people.”

  “Ah. I see.” Thomas narrowed his eyes. “So Daciana has always been aware of the title you hold, then?”

  Ileana nodded. “She’s kept my secret, and I hope you both will do the same. Very few know of my association with the Order. I am the first female to be invited into their ranks. Daciana is the second.”

  “How did you know to infiltrate the castle?” I asked, ignoring the pool of blood at my feet. Part of me wished there was a bag of sawdust to sprinkle about the ground. “I assume you must have been placed here purposely.”

  “Yes. Due to the arrival of members of the House of Basarab, I was tasked with infiltrating the staff. After the first murder, in Braşov, the Order felt it necessary to have someone close to the village. I’d also be in a good position to hear rumors going on at the academy. Maids and servants gossip. It seemed like an excellent place to gain information.”

  I considered this, recalling Radu’s lesson about the Order and who made up its ranks. “How did the headmaster not recognize you as nobility?”

  Ileana smiled sadly. “Moldoveanu, like most, pays little attention to those in his service. Out of my finery? I become anyone.” She lifted a shoulder. “He might be more observant because of his particular skill set, but he is not infallible.”

  “Why did it take you so long to stop Anastasia?” I asked. “Why wait until now?”

  “We didn’t know it was her.” Daciana moved forward, touching Ileana’s arm gently. “We’d been combing the tunnels over the last week or so, hoping to find information. Anastasia was clever. She moved around a lot. We never could locate her.”

  “I’d thought most of her questions odd. At least worthy of investigating,” Ileana added, “but when she was found ‘dead,’ we didn’t know what to make of it. Nicolae seem
ed suspect again, yet he’d never been present or in the same area as anyone who was murdered. The Order is not known for solving crimes. We did the best we could by arming ourselves with knowledge. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.”

  Prince Nicolae rolled to his side, sputtering up foam. I felt reprehensible for not thinking of him sooner and getting him out of this chamber. Thomas crouched beside him, holding his head up. He flashed a look of concern at Daciana. “He needs a doctor. We need to take him back into the castle. It may already be too late.”

  Wind gusted through crevices in the mountainside. I shivered as the frigid air wound its way over and through my damp clothing. I’d forgotten that I was standing in my underthings.

  Surviving the tunnels seemed as if it were something that had happened to another girl, at another time. Not missing any detail, Thomas pointed at his sister. “Perhaps you might offer Audrey Rose your cloak.”

  Daciana wrapped it about my shoulders and squeezed me tight.

  “Thank you.” I breathed in the warmth of the cloak and exhaled the exhaustion settling around me. Watching anyone perish was something I wished to avoid, though I knew better than to believe this would be the last time I encountered violent death.

  “Come,” Daciana said. “Let’s get you near a fire. You both appear ready to collapse.”

  We stumbled out of the basement morgue, tired, battered, and holding a dying student between us. Standing before us were the headmaster and several guards. Professor Moldoveanu inhaled sharply, then barked out orders. “Take the prince to Percy and have him administer fluids immediately, and treat him for arsenic. He has a tonic he’s been working on.”

  Dăneşti flew to our side and hefted the prince onto a wheeled stretcher. “Adu doctorul. Acum! Now!”

  Royal guards wheeled Nicolae from the room, the sound of the table screeching all the way down the corridor. I collapsed on the floor, too tired to stand any longer. Thomas folded himself beside me. My partner through Hell. I almost laughed. Liza had been correct once again—Thomas truly would follow me into the bowels of Hades and not bat an eye. Unless he was inappropriately winking, of course.