Unfortunately, the second curse Dimitri wanted to protect Alba from was just as horrendous. It involved an enchanted Egyptian amulet he’d given her in their youth—an amulet that, despite its dark prophecy, had been a token of his affection.
Both curses were evils Dimitri had brought to Alba’s life, and the guilt that came with them wrenched his stomach. Of course, it hadn’t been his intention to bring malice to Alba. The vampire’s prophecy resulted from a foolish childhood dare and Dimitri gave Alba the enchanted amulet without believing in its curse.
Big Ben struck ten o’clock. Grimacing, Dimitri glanced down at the fog concealing his shining shoes and thought of his own immortality. His being in London might have set the hex of the Egyptian amulet into motion, but he was willing to protect Alba at the risk of dying again. And a broken neck or sharp stake through the heart could kill a vampire effectively.
Placing a hand over the organ in question, Dimitri passed a row of terraced houses. His determination to shield Alba increased with his stride. If he could persuade her to find solace in their rekindled friendship—and if he could resist biting her creamy neck—he might be able to save her from both curses.
His heels clicked along the empty street. A gust of cold air rippled his opera cloak, yet he felt no trace of the autumn chill. On the other hand, Dimitri could tell that his energy was decreasing at a dangerous rate. He’d fed off a homeless man earlier tonight—so that he wouldn’t be tempted by the smell of Alba’s blood—but the encounter had been interrupted and he hadn’t drunk enough.
Fatigue pulling at his feet, he continued on toward Park Lane. A loud clanging noise rang out. Could it be the deranged killer from Whitechapel? Normally Dimitri would welcome the challenge, but not in his weakened state.
His eyes darted to a narrow alley. A calico cat had sprung off a rubbish bin, sending the lid clattering to the ground. Baring tiny, spiked teeth, the animal slinked into the shadows.
He struggled along until he reached the gate of the elegant mansion he’d purchased two weeks ago. It was a distance from St. Bart’s Hospital where he worked as an emergency ward surgeon, but he’d fallen in love with the house at first sight. Anxious to get inside before sunrise, he raised his key to the lock. The house was void of servants, which meant no one knew his dark secret. And he intended to keep it that way.
He was about to turn the key when a flapping sound jerked his head skyward. A large bat dove at him, ruffling his hair and grazing his ear. Could it be the same creature that had attacked him in Wales? If so, who is shape-shifting and following me?
The animal dove in again, its red eyes glowing. Dimitri swatted it away in a panic. If he was bitten again, the bat would drain him of more precious energy. He craned his neck while the ugly creature streamed above a gas lamp. His vision blurred—and a wave of dizziness washed over him. Regretting that he’d drunk too much wine before he arrived at the party, Dimitri teetered sideways and struck his head against the iron palings of the gate. The scene before him became distorted—yet he could swear he saw a woman materialize from the fog.
Chapter Three
Alba regained consciousness inside a jostling hansom.
Lying on her back, she struggled to focus on the draped ceiling of the carriage. Her grogginess lingered and she half-expected to see Dimitri’s handsome face leaning over her. At the memory of how dashing he looked at the party, Alba’s heart pounded painfully against her ribs. She tried to blink away the image but it was no use. She found herself wishing Dimitri had been bold enough to move in for a kiss.
Gracious! What was she thinking? She needed Dimitri Grigorescu in her life like she needed a hole in the head.
The hansom rambled forward briskly. As she pulled herself to a sitting position, Teddy shifted beside her.
“Are you all right, darling?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’m dreadfully embarrassed,” she said. “I hope I didn’t put a damper on the party.”
Teddy tsked. “Your health is more important.”
“Do you feel ill?” Edith leaned forward on the opposite bench. She wore a monstrous plume in her hair that bobbed with the motion of the carriage. Her round face quivered with concern.
“I’m not sick,” Alba said. “The champagne went to my head because of my empty stomach.”
“But I saw you from across the room while you were speaking with Dr. Griffin,” Edith protested. “You looked as though you’d witnessed something extraordinary.”
Shaking her head, Alba let out a nervous laugh. Teddy knew nothing of her past, including the fact that she’d changed her surname from Zpda to Spencer when she came to London.
“Teddy, isn’t Drake Griffin the gentleman you brought backstage at the opera?” Edith asked.
Teddy nodded but remained silent. He seemed more interested in patting Alba’s hand gently and drawing her near.
“Did Dr. Griffin say something inappropriate to you, Alba?” Edith’s shrill voice disrupted the momentary silence.
“Not at all, Edith.” Alba shot her an impatient look. “I told you, the champagne made me light-headed.”
Teddy’s muscles remained tense against her body until the carriage arrived at the ballet dormitories. Once Teddy and Edith helped Alba out of the hansom, Edith excused herself discreetly. Meanwhile Teddy hemmed and hawed.
“Shall I see you upstairs?” he asked, removing his hat.
It had been quite a night and Alba was desperate to be alone. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m rather tired . . .”
The hope in Teddy’s down-turned eyes dimmed. “I understand.” He paused. “Well, good night.”
“Good night, Teddy.” His hurt expression prompted her to force a smile. “I’m looking forward to having supper with you and your father tomorrow night.”
“As am I.” He tipped a bow as he climbed into the hansom.
Alba entered the dormitory’s vestibule then ascended three flights of stairs. One level of the brownstone was a floor Alba occupied with Edith’s six sisters. The girls were daughters of Widow Tuttlebaum—a woman who had been friends with Alba’s deceased mother. Mrs. T., as Alba liked to call her, grew up with Alba’s mother in London and the two had stayed close after Anastasia Zpda married and moved to Romania.
Now Mrs. T.’s daughters were Alba’s dearest companions.
Exhausted, Alba swept into the cozy parlor.
“I’ll make some tea while you rest,” Edith said from the kitchen down the hall.
“Thank you.” Alba crossed into the bedroom she shared with the seven girls and plopped into the vanity chair. Donning her spectacles, she stared into the mirror at her flushed cheeks and tousled hair. She was a mess. Worse yet, she had embarrassed herself by blacking out so theatrically at the party.
Pulling off her earrings, she rolled her eyes. At least she was alone and could think. Ella, Elaine, Evelyn, Eugenia, and the triplets, Ellen, Edwina, and Edith, were delightfully exuberant roommates, but Alba was glad that the majority of girls were performing Don Quixote tonight. It happened to be Edith’s night off and Alba was grateful that her friend had accompanied her to the party. The Tuttlebaums were the only people in London who knew of Alba’s harrowing history with her stepmother, yet they had no clue who Dimitri was.
Summoning the courage to look at the gift he’d given her long ago, she picked up her jewelry box and drew in a breath. Lifting its lid, she peeked at the ancient amulet—an object she hadn’t touched for eleven years.
When she withdrew the smooth lapis stone by way of its silver chain, her chest tightened. Why had Dimitri given this to her in the first place? Didn’t he know it was cursed?
Dimitri Grigorescu. The name shot emotion through Alba like a powerful pistol.
After the night they spent in the graveyard, she thought he was dead. That was why she hadn’t recognized him in his resurrected form. Of course, Dimitri had changed considerably. He had materialized looking more handsome than ever in crisp white linens and an exquisitely cut
evening suit. But what hadn’t changed about Dimitri were his eyes. They spoke of the consuming love he and Alba shared back in Romania. His eyes also told her that he desired her the same way today.
It cannot be a coincidence that Dimitri has resurfaced in my life.
Alba was relieved that he’d survived that terrible night in the cemetery, but she was desperate to know more about his sudden appearance. After all, his presence could destroy the safety net she had so carefully constructed.
Edith entered the room, deposited a teacup on the desk, and studied Alba. “You look dreadful. Do you want to talk about what happened at the party?”
Alba nodded. She trusted Edith implicitly.
“You know, if I’d been standing that close to Dr. Griffin, I would have fainted too.” The redheaded girl sat on one of the beds and smiled. “He’s incredibly handsome.”
“Yes, he is,” Alba said dreamily.
Edith held a closed fist forward. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Teddy, but I saw Dimitri give you this before you fainted.” She handed Alba the dried white poppy.
Alba’s fingers shook as she accepted it. It must have fallen out of my hand when I lost consciousness.
“What does it mean?” Edith asked. “And why did Dr. Griffin give it to you?”
“That’s not his real name,” Alba said cryptically.
“Not his real name? What are you talking about?”
“Shush.” Alba put a finger to her lips as she went about drawing the drapes. “We must whisper.”
“Whisper? You did have too much champagne,” Edith rattled on. “And the way the other guests gawked at you in the doctor’s arms . . .”
“That’s the least of my worries,” Alba said, resuming her seat in the vanity chair. “Drake Griffin’s real name is Dimitri Grigorescu. I knew him in Romania.”
Edith leaned forward anxiously. “But you never speak of Romania.”
“I must now.” Alba paused. “I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” her friend asked gently.
“Of this.” Alba unfurled her fist and revealed the Egyptian amulet.
“What is it?”
“A three-thousand-year-old curio from ancient Egypt.”
“My word!” Edith’s eyes widened.
“I should have gotten rid of it long ago, but I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Dimitri gave it to me when I was fourteen. He was a sixteen-year-old Gypsy boy then—and we fell in love.”
“He’s a Gypsy? But he seems so refined.”
“Believe me, he wasn’t always.”
Edith took the amulet from Alba and turned it over in her hand. “Why does this necklace scare you?”
“Because it comes with a curse—one Dimitri didn’t inform me of when he presented it to me. I thought he was dead all this time, so I made myself forget about the amulet.”
“You thought he was dead?” Edith looked excited. “Tell me everything.”
“Where shall I start?” Alba exhaled. She ordered herself to relax, but the memory still shadowed her with distress. “Dimitri had a Gypsy friend named Simona. Simona dared Dimitri and me to sneak into an abandoned cemetery with her. The cemetery was located on the grounds of Vlad Dracul’s castle.”
“That sounds dangerous already,” Edith said as her cheeks bloomed.
Alba suppressed a shiver. “We dug up a vampire’s grave—a very special vampire’s grave, in fact—but we got scared. We ran in different directions. Dimitri got hurt. His shoulder was torn open. He told me to leave him and get help. But no one would go with me to the cemetery to help him. When I went back alone, Dimitri was gone. I assumed he returned to his Gypsy camp, but when I paid the camp a visit, I was told that he’d never returned. Because he didn’t contact me again, I thought he was dead.”
“My God, Alba.” Edith’s fascinated expression melted into one of empathy. “That’s a horrible story.”
Tears stung Alba’s eyes and she looked away. She had omitted the part about the vampire cursing all three of the trespassers as it’d roared out of its grave. “Dimitri gave me this necklace the morning we went to the castle,” she said.
“What, exactly, does its curse foretell?”
“When I was at the British Museum,” Alba said softly, “I was shocked when I spotted a story about this very amulet inside one of the display cases. It told of a princess named Tousret who invited a priest from her court to become her forbidden lover. The priest’s name was Amenhotep—and as punishment for Amenhotep’s deadly sin, the Underworld God saw to it that the princess was drawn to the priest by way of a fatal attraction. The god’s dark forces willed Tousret to stab Amenhotep to death before she killed herself. Now any female who dons the amulet, even once, will commit suicide just as the princess did.”
“That’s another horrible story!” Edith exclaimed.
Alba’s hands began to tremble around the amulet. “Inside the display case, the explanation of the curse rested beside a piece of jewelry called the bracelet of Amenhotep. Apparently, when this bracelet is placed on the wrist of the male lover involved, it has the power to neutralize the amulet’s hex.”
“That’s good. Isn’t it?” Edith asked.
“Yes. It’s good that the prophecy can be severed, but the knowledge does me no good without the bracelet.”
“I can see why you fainted when you saw Dimitri,” Edith said.
Speaking aloud about her past sparked newfound fear in Alba. She worried that Dimitri’s appearance would bring the amulet’s curse one step closer to fruition. And if it did, there was no way she could get her hands on the magical bracelet. What can I do to ensure my survival and his?
Fortunately, she would only kill Dimitri if they became lovers. That was the last thing she planned to do . . .
“You said you loved Dimitri once,” Edith said. “How do you feel about him now?”
“The night Dimitri and I stole into the graveyard was the night our relationship was ruined,” Alba replied.
“If that’s so, how do you know the amulet’s curse isn’t meant for Teddy?”
Her stomach roiled. “Teddy?”
“Maybe you’re supposed to kill Teddy, not Dimitri.” Edith’s tone was impatient. “After all, Teddy is in love with you too.”
The possibility left Alba breathless. Her pulse sped as her friend paced before her.
“All this talk of black magic is making me nervous,” Edith said. “I thought it was something children imagine.”
“No. It’s very real.” Thoughts of the Dark Arts closed the walls in on Alba. “Skeptics scoff at the power of the occult, but I’ve seen it firsthand. My stepmother, Ileana, delved into black magic, but she kept her spells and incantations private.”
“You mean you spied on her?”
“Yes. I was curious, so I crept into Ileana’s suites at the summer home we were leasing—to learn what she did in her chambers all day. What I witnessed terrified me.”
“Perhaps it’s best not to think about it. Or speak of this necklace.” Edith handed the amulet back to Alba.
“No. I need to talk about it.” Tears streamed down her face.
“All right,” Edith said cautiously. “What did you see at this country manor?”
“I saw Ileana’s pet rat—an evil, black rodent she fed spiders to—perched on a book of spells. Ileana was standing before a mirror that waved and shimmered on its own. The mirror spoke to Ileana and Ileana spoke back. She uttered a vow to kill me—her own stepdaughter.” Alba buried her face in her hands.
Damn Dimitri! The last thing she needed was him coming here and conjuring up a collection of painful memories—memories that tugged at her like wind too forceful to resist.
“You poor thing.” Edith sprang to her side and wrapped an arm around her.
While her friend tried to comfort her, images of Alba’s past roared to life. Her assumption that Dimitri was dead. Her father dying from heart failure a week before they wer
e to leave their country estate. And her suspicion that his passing was Ileana’s murderous handiwork. Of course, she never got anyone to believe her.
“The days following my father’s death were the worst in my life,” she said through her tears. “The way Ileana resented me came out in the open. When I overheard her vowing to kill me in her mirror, I ran away and never looked back. That’s when I came to London and sought refuge with you girls.”
“There, there,” Edith cooed. “We won’t talk of it anymore tonight. That’s that.”
Trembling, Alba nodded in agreement. While she wiped away her tears, she glanced around the sparsely furnished flat. Eight brass beds covered with gingham counterpanes faced one another on opposing walls. An armoire, a dresser, and two desks bearing ink-blotters and glass oil lamps filled the corners of the large room. The lack of possessions reminded Alba that she didn’t have much, but what she had, she’d earned. She had worked days at the library and nights as an office cleaner to put herself through the university. To become a barrister meant everything to her. It became imperative that she defend anyone who’d been mistreated or who faced injustice, just as she’d suffered at Ileana’s hand.
Alba took a look at the ambrotype balanced on the edge of her night table. Her mother’s wise, caring smile embraced her as it always did. I miss you, Mama, she whispered to herself. What would you think if you could see me now?
Alba hoped that, from her place in heaven, her mother would understand why she had faked her own death. It was a plan she’d carried out with tremendous calculation. Unseen, she had scattered her best scarf, hat, and gloves around the forest that bordered Stelian Hall. The bloodstained, tattered articles had alarmed the household staff. When the servants were unable to find Alba, they came to the conclusion that she’d been consumed by a wild animal. All the while, she made the clandestine journey to London.
“Try and get some sleep,” Edith urged. “I’ll be in the parlor if you need me.”
Snow White and the Vampire (The Cursed Princes) Page 2
