Vermilion Justice

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  It was clear that wherever Lura came from, racing across the uneven ground in the deep of night was not something she was accustomed to doing. Nicoletta would gladly help her just for the chance to touch her, but time was not a luxury. She concentrated more on whisking them through the land to the castle borders.

  On the outskirts of the city, she halted and led them to the stable, where her friend would tend to their horses. No words were exchanged as she handed the reins to the sleepy man whom she trusted with her life. Soon, they were on foot and moving in the direction of the castle.

  At the base of the wall, she paused and listened. The dogs, thank almighty God, were on the other side. It was not that they disliked her; in fact, they liked her too much. Her own fault for often visiting them with bits of meat in her pockets. Should they see her this night, in their haste to come to her, they would draw attention their way, and that she could not risk.

  “Sonofa—”

  Nicoletta clamped a hand over the woman’s mouth at the same time she kept her from falling face-first into the ground made soft by a mild snowstorm that had passed through some hours earlier. The snow did not stay upon the ground; instead it had melted, making the muddy mess beneath their feet. She pulled Lura tight against her body, the feel of her warm in the cool night. The sensation was as intoxicating as the wine the Prince drank.

  “Be still,” she whispered into her ear. “We must not allow anyone to know we hide here.”

  The woman nodded and Nicoletta moved her hand way from her lips. She still had one arm around her midsection as she held her tight against her body. It was safe to let her go, but she did not wish to break the contact. In a moment she would release her. In a moment.

  The murmur of voices that had made her stop and draw into the shadows grew louder as three men approached. She could not see well enough to make out their faces, though soon enough she recognized at least one voice. It was Bohdan, and just the sound of him made her blood run cold. He was the soldier, the ever-eager-to-please soldier the Prince had sent for her on the last full moon. He had come happily with a smile on his face that she would never forget. How could she? She saw it in her nightmares night after night. It took the strength of heaven not to roar when he gave her that same smile each time she had seen him since.

  She did not realize she had stiffened until the woman covered her hand with her own. The gentle pressure of her fingers brought Nicoletta back. She dropped her arm from around Lura’s waist after she returned the reassuring squeeze.

  Talking loudly and boasting of some conquest that she cared not to know the details of, Bohdan and the other two men moved by the open gate. She leaned around the gatepost and waited until they were out of sight. Then she motioned for them to follow.

  Her feet seemed to barely touch the ground as she crossed the courtyard and flew up the steps, slowing when she reached the long passageway. Only then did she spare a moment to look behind, just to be certain they had not been followed. Thus far, they were safe. No one in the castle appeared to be awake, thanks be to God, and they easily made their way to her chambers.

  When she slid the beam across the door, she allowed herself a long breath. They had made it and Alexandru was once more with her. All was to be right once more.

  “And who, pray tell, is this pretty wench?” A deep voice came from behind her.

  Nicoletta almost screamed and then caught herself. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and met Bohdan’s cold gaze, almost level with hers as he sat in a chair nestled beside the fire. Her heart raced, her hands trembled. She would let him see none of it. If there was ever a moment for bravery, this was it. The Prince might very well be the Devil, but this man was one who would sit at his right hand.

  “You know my brother, Alexandru.” She inclined her head to where he had moved and now stood by the frosted window.

  “Indeed, though he has been away a very long time and that does not answer my question. Who is the woman?”

  She did not know how to explain Lura, and her mind raced, trying to come up with something this brute would accept. She could not tell him she came from another time and place. Nor could she reveal the true reason her brother had stepped through time with their visitor. He would not believe her, and worst of all, he would like nothing better than a reason to take her life. Bohdan enjoyed spilling blood almost as much as the Prince did. Alexandru stepped in gracefully, saving her from a lie she was not ready to make.

  “So good to see you, Bohdan. I trust your family is well? Your lovely wife, Isa? Any children born during my absence?”

  Bohdan’s face clouded at the mention of his wife. A vein throbbed at his massive temple. “Do not speak of Isa. She is not your concern. The woman?” His voice was hard and loud. His patience, never long, was at its end.

  Alexandru inclined his head and spoke softly. “This is my dear cousin, Lura, from London. We arrived just tonight. Lura for an extended visit and I—” he shrugged, “I believe I am back home to stay, though we shall see.”

  Cousin? Her brother’s thoughts were much quicker and more imaginative than hers. It did not come to her to introduce Lura as family, but it was the perfect way to explain her presence, not just at the castle but in her chambers as well.

  Bohdan’s scowl grew deeper. “You say you return home with your cousin, and yet you sneak through the castle like thieves. What are you hiding? Why do you not come during the daylight like a proper gentleman?”

  What were they not hiding? She prayed the big man would just leave. She knew him too well. He never did anything without a horrible reason, and there was not a question of his reporting their nocturnal activities to the Prince. Bohdan was like a child trying to curry favor from a parent. He would run directly to the Prince and tell him of their late-night appearance. The thought made her stomach cramp again. She wondered briefly if she would ever not feel sick each and every time she thought of the Prince.

  “Not thieves, Bohdan,” she said. “We simply tried to be thoughtful of the Prince and his many guests. Alexandru and Lura did not want to disturb anyone with their late arrival. By the time the Prince was awake, they would be bathed and dressed in clean clothing appropriate to be introduced to his majesty.”

  Relief rushed through her body as she saw the conflicting emotions flicker across his face. He knew she was not wrong. It was right to present her family to the Prince only when they were neat and properly attired. Bohdan could not argue that with her, and he would have no way of proving it was all a lie, even if he suspected as much.

  As he pushed his big body up from the chair and moved to the door, flicking the locking beam away as if it weighed no more than a butterfly, she allowed a silent sigh to pass her lips. He wanted to argue, to press them harder, and yet he had nothing more with which to further his quarrel. With one last scowl bestowed on all three of them, he wrenched the door open and left. For once she had won the battle with the big ugly man. Deep in her heart she knew it was never likely to happen again.

  Chapter Eight

  “Okay, would somebody enlighten me? What was all that about?” Lura had stood there like some kind of voyeur, watching the massive, craggy-faced man try to intimidate Nicoletta and Alexandru. Didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to know he wasn’t a nice guy. To their credit, they held their ground, and in the end, he’d had to give in and grudgingly leave.

  Actually she wanted to know more than simply what the big oaf of a man was all in a tizzy about. Everything since they’d stepped through the stone outcropping had been…well, off. The castle they were in now was in remarkable shape. Someone had done a fantastic job of restoration, and it was clearly evident that all was in keeping with the time of its construction. Had to be a serious tourist draw and one she suspected was quite successful.

  Still, it felt different from any reenactment facility she’d ever visited before. Smelled different too, a mixture of smoke, greasy food, and what? A Porta-Potty past ready to be emptied? She cringed and tried to banish that thou
ght.

  And there was the big oaf, who was one pissed-off guy. Keeping in character? Possibly. Didn’t feel like it. His anger felt real and dangerous. Not the kind that actors usually employed in a place like this, where making the paying tourist feel comfortable was paramount.

  Then there was their undercover arrival. So what if they came skulking in at midnight. BFD. Why would anyone else around here care? This trip to pick up ashes was getting weirder by the moment.

  On the other hand, her initial gut instinct about Alexandru was still holding strong. She liked the man, plain and simple. And, for no reason that she could rationally explain, she trusted him. By extension, she trusted his sister. Of course, she’d be a fool not to acknowledge that when it came to the sister, it wasn’t all gut instinct. Some of it—maybe a lot of it—was because she was hot. Didn’t mean she didn’t still need an explanation for The Twilight Zone episode they appeared to be living in tonight.

  Nicoletta shook her head and didn’t quite meet her eyes. “We do not have time to explain. Daylight will be upon us very soon and we must get you properly attired. Alexandru, hot water, please.”

  Lura watched Alexandru jump and run. “Really? Water? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” She was so tired and everything was so out of whack. “Can’t we just call it a night, grab a few hours of sleep, and then go get Vic’s ashes?”

  “Please,” Nicoletta said, a note of pleading in her voice. “We must have you ready. Time is passing, and he will be asking for us at any moment.” She’d moved to a tall chest with double doors she’d pulled open to reveal a trove of gowns. She was pawing through them, obviously looking for something, though Lura couldn’t tell exactly what that might be. From where she sat it was a box stuffed with a lot of fabrics in different shades of dark.

  “Him who?” The ugly guy?

  Nicoletta didn’t look away from the interior of the chest. “The Prince.”

  Yeah, well, that answer cleared things up not at all. Lura ran her hands through her hair and, for just a second or two, closed her eyes. Patience, she told herself. Getting upset wouldn’t solve a thing. This was all going to make sense at some point.

  She opened her eyes and put her hands on her hips. As nicely as she could muster she asked, “Who exactly is this prince and why do I care?”

  After spreading a gown that she’d pulled from the chest across the bed, Nicoletta brought a lovely bowl to the small table by the fire and set it down, her hands a flurry of movement. “Prince Dracula. Vlad Dracula. This is his castle. His home. He will want to see Alexandru and be introduced to you as soon as he arises.”

  She wanted to laugh but was too tired to work up the effort. “Prince Dracula. Of course it is. You guys never let the Dracula crap go, do you?”

  Alexandru came back through the door carrying a steaming bucket and poured some of the hot water into the bowl before setting it on the floor. Neither of them seemed to hear her or pay any attention to her, for that matter.

  He spoke directly to his sister. “You have everything you need to ready yourselves. I must be on my way. My clothing is in my chambers?” When Nicoletta nodded, he turned and started toward the door.

  Seriously, did they not see her? “Back up the pony there, Alexandru. You’re on your way where? You’re not leaving me here with the Mistress of Vagueness. I want to know what’s going on and I want to know now.”

  He paused and looked back at her, his soulful eyes full of pleading. “Trust me, Lura, please. I promise you are in good hands with my sister. Right now, it is critical for me to hurry and change before the Prince comes looking for us. It would not do well for us to meet him as we are.”

  “What’s this Prince’s big problem? Dracula, my ass,” she muttered. Besides, what exactly was wrong with how they looked? Well, beyond the fact that he was in some weird tights and she was wearing a bathrobe, albeit a really nice bathrobe.

  Nicoletta’s face faded to an alarming shade of white. “Please, do not speak so. The Prince will not tolerate it.” The way her words trembled made Lura feel crappy for being such an uncooperative bitch.

  Suddenly, Lura was so exhausted she could barely keep her head up. This trip had started out on a bad note, and now it had morphed from bad to weirdly messed up. If she could just get Vic’s ashes and go home, maybe this crazy nightmare could end. Playing make-believe in a Romanian castle was nowhere on her agenda, and the way Alexandru and his sister were acting was getting on her last good nerve.

  Nicoletta touched the neckline of Lura’s velvet robe and began to slide it off her shoulders. The trembling in her voice was gone, replaced by a gentle firmness. “I know this makes little sense to you, and I promise we will explain everything when we can. For now, please, please, please do as I ask. You must freshen yourself, wipe away the dirt of our journey here, and put on a proper gown before it is too late.”

  “She is right, Lura. We will all clean up, and then I will return as soon as I can. This will make more sense when we have time to explain.” Alexandru was out the door before Lura could say another word. Really, he had to stop doing that.

  All the fight went out of her. There was no point. She was getting nowhere, and if she wanted to find out what was really going on here, she might as well just do what both Alexandru and Nicoletta asked her to do: trust them.

  As Nicoletta pushed the robe away from Lura’s body and pulled the nightshirt over her head, exposing her breasts to the cool air, she didn’t resist. Sinking to the edge of the bed, she sat. Nicoletta’s hands were soft and soothing as she ran a warm rag across Lura’s skin. She should protest, but she was too damned weary. It had nothing to do with the way the other woman’s hand felt against her skin. Nothing at all.

  Soon, too soon, the warm cloth and gentle hands were gone. Instead, Nicoletta helped her to her feet, and the robe fell in a velvet puddle to the floor. Nicoletta held up a heavy gown in a beautiful shade of crimson, and Lura touched it. It felt like fine wool that must weigh a ton. Nicoletta appeared to very seriously want her to put it on. Rather than even try to argue, she simply picked it up. Sometimes it was a whole lot easier to play along.

  Surprisingly, the dress fit well, and it wasn’t nearly as heavy on as it had seemed when Nicoletta pulled it from the wardrobe. The wool was so finely woven it was soft and comfortable, almost as if the dress had been made just for her. She wished there was a mirror in the room so she could see what she looked like. Not that she’d have had time to stop and stare even if a mirror had been handy. Nicoletta had her back down on the bed and was fussing with her hair the second she was trussed up all snug and pretty.

  “What now?” She winced as Nicoletta’s comb tugged through a knot in her hair.

  “Your cap.” She kept combing, oblivious of Lura’s winces.

  Really? It was clean even if it was a little messy from the horse ride. She preferred it down and loose. Hats weren’t her thing. “I don’t wear caps.”

  Nicoletta ran her fingers quickly, gently down Lura’s cheek. “Please, again I ask you to trust me. I know that we are asking much of you, and I have given you my word that you will understand all that is happening very soon.”

  Lura sighed, having already given up. Until they had their audience with the Prince, she wasn’t going to get squat out of either of them. That much was being made very clear to her. She shut her eyes and held still while Nicoletta fussed with her hair and the silly little cap.

  Finally, Nicoletta seemed happy with the hair thing she had going on. Once she was done with all the combing, pulling, and gathering of her hair, the cap didn’t feel all that bad.

  Nicoletta pulled Lura to her feet just as the door to their room was flung open. She frantically tugged at Lura’s hand, tension radiating through her touch. Took her a second before she realized why. A man—tall, strong, and imposing—stood in the doorway, and Nicoletta was bowing her head as she urgently tried to get Lura to do the same.

  *

  Riah didn’t like findi
ng out they’d missed Lura. Fate appeared to be making sure she didn’t leave this place any too soon, and for her, right now was already too much time back here. Still, something about this whole adventure wasn’t right. She felt it in her bones, an icy sense of fear that Ivy’s cousin was in danger.

  So far, all they had been able to find was that she’d left with a handsome black-haired man in an older sedan. The desk clerk at the hotel had heard Lura call him Alexandru. Beyond that, the only other clue they had to go on was a text Lura had sent to her mother telling her that they were headed to Tirgoviste to pick up Vic but had to spend the night on Snagov Island because they couldn’t get back to the mainland. That little tidbit of information gave Riah alligator-sized shivers.

  Snagov Island had always bothered her, and if she could avoid the place, she did. The wind that blew cold and ominous, holding a vibe beneath that wasn’t right, was only one reminder. She couldn’t argue against the island’s beauty, and she had little doubt that the march of time had erased any of it. It had always possessed what they liked to refer to these days as old-world charm.

  On the other hand, she was equally certain time had not erased the menace.

  If they had a better choice, she didn’t see it. They’d have to follow the only clues they had, and that meant a road trip to both Snagov Island and Tirgoviste. Hopefully they’d find Lura sooner rather than later. If only she’d answer her cell and send a text letting them…or anyone…know she was okay, then this madness could end.

  “Whatcha thinking about, beautiful?”

  Adriana put a hand on the nape of her neck, her fingers caressing the tender skin. Riah rolled her head, loving her gentle touch. A thousand years could pass and she’d never, ever tire of the feel of her, flesh against flesh. More than that, she’d never grow weary of this feeling of contentment, of being whole for the first time ever in her very long life.