CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR STRANGE ILLUSTRATIONS #2
I would not divulge how painfully familiar I was with the truth of my last statement. Fingers twitched across my memory, and I shoved the image away.
“Some villagers would disagree,” Ileana said quietly. “A few have gotten ill over the last couple of weeks. One girl has disappeared. They are certain a strigoi is to blame. Now Wilhelm’s body is discovered, his blood missing. They are not unaware of what that might mean.”
I began to comment on the village girl’s disappearance and stopped myself.
I was ashamed to admit to sneaking into her home.
I believed her case was simply an unfortunate one, brought on by drinking too many spirits and getting lost in the woods.
No vampires or werewolves snatched her from the path.
“Do you know of anyone who’d want to shut the academy down?” I asked.
Draping her cloth over a galvanized bucket, Ileana tapped the sides, creating a hollow, echoing sound that ricocheted in my skull.
I narrowed my eyes as she glanced toward the door and then swallowed.
I was about to ask what was wrong when she hurried over to the settee.
She pulled a leather-bound book from a pocket on her apron, handing it to me as one might pass on a reeking bedpan. I reluctantly took it.
“I… I know it’s wrong. But I found this journal.
It was in Prince Nicolae’s room.” I lifted my gaze, but Ileana kept hers locked on the book and stammered on.
“Remember when I told you servants are to be neither seen nor heard?” I nodded.
“Well, it’s very easy for some of the more highborn students to forget we exist. Some think their fires magically light themselves, and their chamber pots grow wings to empty their waste. ”
“I’m sorry people are so cruel.”
Her eyes were shards of ice before she blinked the expression away. “I’m not proud of filching the journal, but I heard him mentioning something about drawings. When I peeked inside, I saw awful images. Here.”
I flipped the leather journal open, scanning a few diagrams. Hearts, intestines, a human brain, and…
bats. Skulls of bats with horrendous fangs.
Bat wings with notes and details of claws at their apex.
Each page proudly displayed a new section of a bat’s anatomy.
I flicked my attention back to Ileana, whose gaze was locked on her hands.
“He’s got quite a few specimens in his chambers, too.”
“Why did mention of his drawings trouble you?”
Ileana wrung her hands. “I recalled what D?nesti and Moldoveanu had said about the royal family receiving those threats. That they were drawings.”
I sat straighter, as if the movement would make what she’d said more palatable. Waves of nausea roiled my stomach. “He couldn’t possibly have sent those himself…”
“That’s why I looked. Then I saw the sketches of bats and noticed all the skeletons he has in his room… I don’t know why I took his journal. I just”—she shrugged—“I thought there might be more to see. And then I saw this one near the back.”
Reaching over, she turned the pages until she found what she’d been searching for. My breath stilled along with the rest of my body. A girl with onyx hair, eyes a deep emerald green, and lips that were dripping blood smiled boldly.
With my finger I traced the jawline up and around to the catlike eyes, then touched my own face. “I don’t—this cannot be me. He wouldn’t have had time to—”
Ileana turned to the next page. On it, drawn with great care, was the image of a girl wearing an apron splattered with gore, an autopsy blade poised above stark white flesh. I tore my gaze away. The cadaver was male, and no cloth covered his nude form. Heat flashed over my cheeks.
I hardly knew what to make of the crude drawings.
“There’s more.” Ileana showed me image after image.
Each featuring me as a beautiful creature delighting in blood and death.
The way the prince had captured me, it was as if he’d turned me into an immortal being, a little too perfect to be human.
A bit too cold and hard for this fragile world.
The flames in the fireplace flickered wildly, its heat suddenly sweltering.
I longed to fling my windows wide, letting the cold wind of the Carpathians cleanse this space.
One final image had me sucking in a gasp.
It was hard to tell exactly who the male was—either Thomas or Nicolae—but he and another Audrey Rose stood side by side.
The young man wore a suit made of bones, holding an ivory skull as if it were an oracle to divine from.
My bodice hugged my frame. The illustration was gorgeous, despite the large anatomical heart and circulatory system that branched from my chest, then wound its way down my arms and ran fingers to my skirts.
The black gloves in the drawing caught my attention next.
Lace and swirls covered my arms as if they’d been inked permanently onto my skin.
Ileana watched closely before pointing to the design on my arms. “Prince Nicolae’s arms are covered in ink.
Not so delicate as these. But I’ve seen them when he rolls his sleeves back. ”
I raised my brows. How intriguing. I’d read that many aristocrats had gotten themselves tattooed over the previous several years.
Once magazines had announced how fashionable it was, nearly one in five highborn ladies and gentlemen, it was estimated, had them secreted on their bodies.
They were also growing in popularity in the royal courts.
It made sense that the prince might dabble in something such as tattooing.
It added to his mystique. I imagined many young women would be more than delighted to unwrap his layers for a peek at what he was hiding.
“What are his of?”
Ileana pushed herself up from the settee, then took back the journal and motioned toward the door.
“It’s late. I polished your boots and left them for Mos Nicolae.
You should get some rest so he has time to deliver his winter gifts.
” She smiled at my confusion. “I believe your version of Mos Nicolae is called Father Christmas. It’s a tradition for him to bring sweets.
If he shakes his beard and snow falls, then winter may truly begin.
Sleep now. Tonight is Magic Night. Maybe he’ll leave you a trinket. ”
Sleeping was the furthest thing from my mind, especially when someone else named Nicolae might be prowling about the castle, delivering “gifts,” but I bid her good night.
I pressed my fingers against my eyes until flashes of white streaked across them like stars shooting against the sky.
In one day, I’d thought Thomas was dead, found a secret passage, been attacked by blood-leeching bats, discovered another body, and now had become acquainted with Nicolae’s disturbing illustrations.
The dark prince very well might be the person we were searching for.
He had the opportunity to send illustrated threats to family members.
Perhaps it was an attempt to secure the throne for himself.
I couldn’t help but wonder if Nicolae might also be responsible for his cousin’s death and, if I continued to unearth his secrets, that something worse than a threat might befall me soon.
Thinking what morning would bring was enough to weight my lids against their better judgment.
I removed my layers and slipped beneath chilly covers.
The last image I remembered before falling into darkness was of an unearthly young woman with tattoos swirling over her arms, her lips twisted into a feral grin as her incisors sank into her own blood-soaked lips.
If Prince Nicolae truly thought I was cursed, perhaps he’d crafted that illustration as propaganda.
He’d certainly turned me into Princess Dracula.
I hoped no one would seek to stake me through the heart.