Lord Johnny blushed. “It was common at the time.”
“Mihai’s several-times-great-grandfather was born after Tepes’s assassination,” Mr. Arkady continued. “His mother was Hungarian—the daughter of the emperor himself! She knew that her father would kill her if he found out, so she hid, had the child, and then returned to court to marry a man of her father’s choosing. For many years, this branch of the Dracula family lived in obscurity in Transylvania, waiting for their chance.”
“Their chance?” Lou’s eyebrows raised, and for a moment, Dacia could see a resemblance between her cousin and their grandmother, Lady Ioana.
Lord Johnny drew a deep breath. He was sitting on the sofa opposite Dacia and Lou, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees. He looked exhausted.
“Yes,” Lord Johnny said.
His face was grim, and he looked careworn. Dacia made a small move to reach out to him, and then caught herself and hid her hand beneath Lou’s shawl.
“There was a prophecy that Vlad Tepes would return to rule again,” Lord Johnny said, as though telling them the direst news they would ever hear. Perhaps it was, but Dacia felt beyond fear at this moment. She had seen and heard too much in the past week, and was numb from her heart to her toes. “He is rather like King Arthur in my own country, in that respect. Mihai believes that he is his ancestor reborn. And this time, he wants more than just Wallachia; he wants all of Romania.”
A line appeared between Lou’s brows. This was normally a sign that she was upset, and the old Dacia would have leaped to protect the old Lou from whatever it was that had bothered her. But the new Lou appeared more thoughtful than upset, and the new Dacia did not have the strength to defend anyone. She could still feel Mihai’s wet lips on her own, and she suddenly rubbed her mouth on the sleeve of her dress, chafing her lips on the embroidery.
“I’m sick to death of prophecies,” Dacia muttered. Lou squeezed her hand.
“Then why didn’t the Dracula family make their claim years ago?” Lou shook her head. “King Carol isn’t Romanian, but he was put on the throne because people went looking for a king!”
“First the Draculas were in hiding,” Mr. Arkady said, taking up the thread again. “Afraid that those who had killed Tepes would seek to destroy them as well. Then for several years, there were no likely heirs.” He grimaced. “There have been incidents . . . many of Mihai’s ancestors have died from violent confrontations or ended their own lives. Mihai’s father was dead before Mihai was born, and his uncle has no interest in being a king.”
“Do you mean Mattias?” Lou asked.
“Even so,” Mr. Arkady said, nodding. He looked a tad confused at the significant look Lou gave Dacia at the name. Or perhaps he was only confused because Dacia did not return the look, but merely stared at the fringe of the shawl draping Lou.
Dacia did not want to think about Aunt Kate.
“But now they have Mihai,” Mr. Arkady said, after clearing his throat.
“Yes. Now they have Mihai,” Lord Johnny echoed, his voice dark. “Handsome, intelligent, charming Mihai. The family is pinning all their hopes on him. They’ve groomed him from the time he was a small child to come to power.”
“By taking the throne from King Carol?” The line between Lou’s brows deepened, then smoothed out. Dacia noticed that Arkady was watching this, too, with great fascination. “Because now King Carol has brought Romania together.”
“Exactly,” Lord Johnny told her, nodding. “The states are united, and there is talk of annexing Transylvania. It’s a powerful nation now, prosperous.”
“How does our family come into this?” Lou pulled her shawl tighter about herself, and then reached under it for Dacia’s hand, squeezing tightly again. Dacia found she did not have the strength to squeeze back.
“When Princess Anna, Vlad Tepes’s Hungarian wife, went into hiding in Sighisoara, it was the Florescu family that hid her. You come from an old, respected family, and they also have a certain . . . reputation.”
Now Dacia felt her own eyebrows rising. “Reputation?” Her voice rasped a little.
Lord Johnny looked at the floor, pulling at his cuffs as though discomfited.
“The Florescus are rumored to possess magical abilities,” Mr. Arkady said finally.
Dacia thought that she might be sick. They knew. Lord Johnny knew. Their lives were ruined, and all because they were born into this horrible family. No wonder he couldn’t look at her. No wonder they weren’t all that startled to see Lou naked, herself in traditional dress like a peasant. Their family was beyond the pale, and Lord Johnny knew it very well.
But Lou was shaking her head. “Oh, surely you don’t believe such things!” She laughed, and Dacia thought that she was probably the only person in the room who knew Lou well enough to recognize that it wasn’t her real laugh. “Magic? Honestly, Mr. Arkady!” If Lou had had a fan, she would have slapped Mr. Arkady’s wrist with it. “It’s like that awful novel that Will Carver was raving about!”
The look that Mr. Arkady gave Lou made Dacia wonder how closely this man had been watching Lou, and for how long. He certainly looked like he knew her laugh was fake.
“Miss Neulander, I am being perfectly honest,” the young man said in a stiff tone. “Lord Johnny and I have seen things that I think neither of you ladies would credit.” He did not look as if those things had been pleasant.
Now Lou’s laugh was genuine, but it had a slight edge to it, and the hand that held Dacia’s was damp. “You might be surprised about that,” she said.
“I have now read that novel,” Mr. Arkady continued, “and I—”
“I told you,” Lord Johnny interrupted him. “I told you that it was too late. We should have done something, protected them somehow.” He rose to his feet and crossed to the sofa where Dacia and Lou huddled. He knelt down and put one hand on the arm of the sofa near Dacia, but without touching her. “What did they do to you?”
Dacia looked at Lord Johnny’s earnest face. His eyes were so blue, and he needed a haircut. Her heart shrank at the thought of seeing his expression turn to disgust when he found out what she was.
“You still haven’t answered our questions,” Lou said. “Why are we still tied to the Dracula family? It was four hundred years ago that Princess Anna went to them.” She tossed her loosened hair out of her eyes. “And you say we have magic? What of it?”
Lord Johnny straightened, a little taken aback at Lou’s businesslike words, but Arkady looked appreciative. It was Johnny who answered, however.
“Well,” he said, “Anna gave them her child to raise, and a great deal of gold to sweeten the prospect. The Florescus were respected, but Anna made them wealthy as well. In return they raised her son, also named Vlad. He was trained in arms, educated, and unfortunately hotheaded. He died in a tavern brawl when he was only twenty-two, leaving behind his young widow and infant son.
“By then, the Florescus had established themselves as the guardians of the Dracula family, and after all these years, they continue to protect the family: hide them when needed, support them, act as bodyguards, even. In return there is wealth, status, and the promise that when a Dracula sits on the throne of Romania, a Florescu will stand beside that throne.”
“Or sit on the one next to it,” Dacia said without thinking.
Lord Johnny looked surprised, but he nodded. “Yes, there have been some marriages back and forth, but not many. The Draculas, I’m afraid, seem to think of your family as more in the vein of trusted servants.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.
Dacia wanted to scream. She didn’t know what held her back, really. Her life was ruined, Lou was naked and unashamed; why couldn’t she do something unladylike and just start screaming and tearing out her hair? But she was already anticipating the disgust on Lord Johnny’s face when he learned the truth about her; she couldn’t bear to have him think she was mad as well.
“Mihai wants to marry Dacia,” Lou said in a matter-of-fact tone. “S
o you can see why we were so upset when you arrived. He had just left, after making his attentions vulgarly clear.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Lord Johnny’s whole body was rigid with tension, and he stretched out a hand to Dacia, but she was afraid if she took it, he would feel how clammy her palm was. Also, if she moved she was fairly certain that Lou’s shawl would be disarrayed, and Mr. Arkady would see more than her fine legs.
“No,” she managed to answer. “But it was most unpleasant.”
Her voice sounded missish, and she hated herself even more. Most unpleasant. It was the kind of thing she had been taught to say if a gentleman pressed her hand too warmly. Not if he groped her and tried to . . . her mind rejected the memory.
“You must help us,” Lou said decisively. “We want no part of Prince Mihai, or his ambitions. But tell us first: Why do you know so much about it, and why do you care? Can you help us?”
Lord Johnny looked to Arkady for confirmation, and the other young man nodded. They both took deep breaths, and then Lord Johnny sighed. He sank down on a small ottoman, near enough that Dacia could have reached out to touch him, if she had wanted to. If she hadn’t been too frightened.
“We are part of an organization with members all over the world,” Lord Johnny said. “It’s called the Society of Saint Gabriel the Archangel.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Lou said. “Are you monks?”
Mr. Arkady muttered something in Turkish that made Lord Johnny look at him sharply.
“No, it’s not a religious order,” Lord Johnny said with a little cough. “It was once, but it’s not now.” He stopped himself from saying something and then plunged on. “Centuries ago, our ancestors encountered monsters, things you cannot even imagine, and pledged that we would keep the world safe from them. Our men—and women—are fighting this fight all over the world as we speak. And for now, Theo and I have been sent to Romania to protect King Carol.”
“Why?” Lou asked simply. “King Carol and his wife seem kind, but why all this fuss?”
“As you know, Romania straddles the divide between the Eastern and Western cultures of Europe,” Mr. Arkady said. “So it is both important and sadly rare for the land to be united under a good, strong king. If Carol stays in power, we believe that Romania will remain a peaceful bridge between east and west. If Mihai takes control, he will use this country’s position to spread his diseased rule across Europe.”
Dacia felt as if a weight had lifted from her heart. It would be all right. It would all be all right. She smiled at Lord Johnny, and he smiled back, blinking at her rapid change in expression.
“So you’re here to get rid of Mihai?” She slipped her hand out from under the shawl as smoothly as she could, reaching for Lord Johnny.
His smile faded, and he didn’t take her hand. He tugged at his cuffs again, and looked at Mr. Arkady, who got to his feet.
“In a roundabout way,” Arkady said, his expression grim. “Our orders mostly concern your family, Miss Vreeholt. We are here to stop the Florescus.
“As John said: our society keeps the world safe from the monsters.”
THE DIARY OF MISS MARIA LOUISA NEULANDER
15 June 1897
Am I a monster? I don’t feel like one. I don’t feel like anything, not when I am the Smoke, anyway.
Therein lies the attraction.
I am so very tired of feeling gauche, or embarrassed, or silly, or plump. I am so tired of people looking at me, judging me: What am I wearing, how much did it cost, how is my hair arranged, who is my family, have I been invited to this party, that ball? It is so very wearying to be a part of New York society! There is so much to remember, so many rules and traditions, like the steps in a dance that goes on and on. I feel like Marley’s Ghost in Mr. Dickens’s Christmas story, all wrapped about with chains of my own making.
But when I am the Smoke, those chains are gone, and I am free. I become giddy just thinking about it. Imagine if I was at a party and someone was horrible to me, like Justine Coombs. I know that Dacia likes her, but she is so sly I simply cannot. Imagine if she were to make some comment to me at a party, and everyone was watching to see if I would blush or cry, and instead I just disappeared? Just floated away to a place where no one was looking at me? It would be heaven!
And now it seems that Lord Johnny and Mr. Arkady have been watching our family, because they believe we are monsters. I am not sure what to think! It certainly explains Mr. Arkady’s rude behavior, but not Lord Johnny’s obvious attraction to Dacia (which I think she is oblivious to, despite their earlier time together). I do not feel like a monster. I think that perhaps Dacia does, though. And dare I say that Lady Ioana falls into the “monstrous” category even when not transformed into a bat!
I will have to take Lord Johnny aside and ask him to speak more circumspectly about it. Dacia needs to be handled much more delicately. It is apparent that the gentlemen’s secret society is much more accustomed to dealing with monsters than with young ladies.
STRADA SILVESTRU
“You are mistaken,” Lou said politely to Mr. Arkady. “We are not monsters.”
“Of course not!” But he didn’t sound at all convinced. “You may not know this, having been raised in America, but some in your family have strange powers that they use in the service of the Draculas. They are the ones we have come to stop, my dear young ladies. Horia Florescu, your uncle, is very well known to our Society, I’m afraid.”
Lou felt that there was something they were not saying. Both men were tense, as though they were communicating silently, trying to decide how much to tell the cousins. She had thought for a moment that they knew what had happened at the family estate the night before, but now Mr. Arkady acted as though he was sparing her a shock.
Dacia had withdrawn the hand she’d extended to Lord Johnny and was pale and shaking. Lou was very worried about her, but first they needed more answers. Although it was a relief to have gotten as many as they had already.
“Then why were you spying on Prince Mihai at Peles?” Lou asked.
“Hmm,” Mr. Arkady said, and he looked at Lord Johnny.
“No,” came the other’s reply.
“They have asked, and they deserve to know,” said Mr. Arkady.
Lord Johnny slumped back on his ottoman.
“Your uncle terrifies us,” said Lord Johnny. “Your grandmother terrifies us. Even Radu, your cousin—”
“Terrifies you?” Lou couldn’t keep the tartness out of her voice. No fire had been lit in the parlor fireplace, and she wanted to put her clothes back on before she caught a chill. “Please tell us why, and stop dawdling.”
Lord Johnny gave her an astonished look, but Mr. Arkady smiled at her.
“I fear I must be blunt,” Lord Johnny warned.
“Please,” she replied.
“Many of your uncles, aunts, and cousins are shape-shifters,” Lord Johnny said tentatively, as if his words themselves were explosive. Lou supposed that, had the night before never happened, they would have been. When he got no reaction from either Lou or Dacia, he continued in the same almost timid vein. “In fact, to the best of our knowledge, they all are. They can turn themselves into bats or wolves. Until a few decades ago, some of them could also turn into an amorphous form called the Smoke, but that form has been lost. It was always rare.”
Lord Johnny made a dismissive gesture. Lou bristled at the implication that the Smoke was of little consequence to him. It was of very great consequence to her. She didn’t say anything, though, and the young men began looking from her to Dacia and back, waiting for a reaction that was not coming from either cousin.
“You knew,” Lord Johnny stated, horror dawning on his face. “It is as I feared!”
“What do you fear?” Dacia said dully.
“You have been exposed to these terrible secrets,” Lord Johnny said. Somehow he managed to not sound half so hysterical and, well, silly as William Carver had on the terrace at Castle Bran. But only by
half.
Lou arched her eyebrows. “Why do you think we came back to Bucharest alone?”
She realized that she was daring them to accuse her of being a monstrosity. Perhaps it was unladylike of her to have taken all this in stride. She supposed that she should be having hysterics herself, or be in bed with smelling salts and cold compresses. But what good would that do? And with Dacia’s reaction to all this, Lou needed to be the strong one now.
“What do you fear?” Dacia’s voice was barely a whisper.
“You have seen them . . . take on their animal forms?” Mr. Arkady said before Lord Johnny could answer. The Turkish man looked eager, like he wanted her to describe it. Well, she wasn’t without some sense of decorum, and she was not going to indulge his curiosity.
“Yes, we have,” she said. “But how is it any business of yours?”
“In their animal forms the bats spy on the enemies of the Draculas, and the wolves . . . hunt them,” Mr. Arkady said. Lord Johnny made a noise but didn’t interrupt.
“I beg your pardon?” Lou felt a sudden trickle of sweat start down her back beneath the shawl. Hunt?
“They hunt down their enemies, the enemies of the Draculas, and they . . . dispose of them,” Mr. Arkady clarified. “Prince Mihai’s father was the first Dracula in generations to acknowledge his ancestry and there were many who set themselves against him. King Carol had just taken the throne, and his supporters tried to strip Mihai’s father of his title to avoid conflict. Many of them were found dead, savaged by animals, the others disappeared. If Mihai’s father had not died soon after, he could have deposed Carol.
“And it was the Florescus who did the dirty work. Without them, Mihai can only sneer and make empty threats.”
Dacia made a small noise, and Lou tried to put her arm around her cousin, but it dislodged the shawl, showing all of her arm and most of one shoulder. She froze, although it hardly mattered at this point.
“You’re accusing our family of murder?” Lou could hardly speak the words.
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