CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN BLACK LEATHER WINGS
TOWER CHAMBERS
CAMERE DIN TURN
brAN CASTLE
I bolted upright, blinking away the fang-toothed images my subconscious had created from darkness.
Moonlight streaked down the curtains in rivulets and pooled on the floor like a silver waterfall.
A chill lay tangled in the sheets around me, but the cold wasn’t what had roused me from sleep.
Sweat coated my skin in dewy patches—somehow my nightgown had untied itself, exposing more of my collarbone than was decent.
Still panting from my nightmare of winged creatures swarming and biting, I gently prodded my neck, half fearing my fingers would come away wet with blood.
Nothing. I was completely unsullied. No strigoi, or bats, or bloodthirsty demons had feasted while I’d tossed and turned.
I felt only smooth, hot flesh, unharmed by anything other than frigid winter air or the scandal its exposure would cause.
I squinted toward the shadows, pulse racing on high alert.
The fire in my bedchamber had died out, not long ago, judging from the winking embers.
I sank back, but only marginally. My mind was groggy with strange nightmares, but I could have sworn I’d heard voices.
They couldn’t all be the product of disturbed dreams. I’d been visited less often by my hauntings recently, or so I’d thought.
I gripped my blankets, quieting my frantic heart as I took in the unmoving silhouettes of my dresser and nightstand.
I waited for it. For shadows to peel away from the wall and take the shape of the immortal prince, his serpent wings stretched wide enough to stop my heart entirely.
But all was wretchedly silent. So much for spirits visiting the human realm on this supposedly wicked night.
It had to be the high altitude of the Carpathians.
The thinning oxygen was clearly affecting my brain.
“Foolish.” I flopped back onto my side, drawing the covers up to my chin. Long pieces of unbound hair tickled my back, raising gooseflesh. I sank lower until my head was practically covered from the world outside my blankets. Nightmares were for children.
Silly Radu and his folklore nonsense. Of course there was no such thing as a winter night that could call forth the dead.
A scientific explanation could always be found.
I closed my eyes, focusing on how cozy I was in my little cocoon of warmth.
My breathing slowed, my lids suddenly heavy enough that I didn’t try opening them again.
I felt myself fading into an exquisite dream.
One where Thomas and I were on our way to Bucharest for the holiday, I was dressed in a beautiful gown I’d wear to a ball, far from the murders—
Thump.
Adrenaline erupted through my body in the form of action.
In the space of two breaths, I swung myself off my mattress, stuffed my feet into slippers, and was halfway across my bedchamber, ears ringing with the strain of listening so hard. There was no mistaking the sound of someone or something moving in the hallway outside my rooms.
I collected my fear and shoved it into the deepest pocket of my mind, ignoring the way it kicked and scratched on the way down.
Forgoing a dressing gown in favor of stealth, I slowly cracked open my bedchamber door.
I peered into the sitting room; the fire’s embers were nearly out there as well.
For some reason, my new maid must not have stoked them before bed.
The deep orange glow wasn’t enough to see by, which also offered an opportunity to not be seen by anyone who might be lurking about.
Clouds of cold breath slipped out in uneven intervals.
Thump-thump. I halted, straddling the threshold between my bedchamber and the sitting room. All was still as the grave.
And then… a harshly whispered “Quiet” in Romanian. “Liniste.”
Thump.
After having spent time wrangling bodies in Uncle’s laboratory, I knew the sound that limbs weighted by death made when connecting with the ground.
Images of corpse robbers whipped through my thoughts.
I didn’t know why I pictured them as skeletal figures with claw-tipped hands, fangs dripping blood, and leathery wings when they had to be robust enough to hoist dead weight. And certainly human.
I held my breath, terrified that even the smallest inhalation would echo like a bell tolling my fate. Whoever they were, I did not want them turning their sinister attention on me. Humans were the true monsters and villains. More real than any novel or fantasy could invent.
Moments passed and the whispers continued. I eased my frozen joints into motion, moving as quickly and silently across the small room as I dared. I’d never been more thankful for the sparse furnishings as I was in that moment as I headed for the door to the corridor.
I ghosted across the room, hesitating once I reached the door. Perhaps Radu’s silly tales had been correct. This was a night fit for haunting after all. Except I would be the specter, running about unseen.
Pressing my ear against the wall next to the door, I listened, willing myself to remain cold and still as marble.
Hushed voices rumbled too low for me to make out.
It was hard to tell if they were both male or if a female was also involved.
I leaned against the wall until my face ached with the force, but still couldn’t understand what the late-night prowlers were whispering.
It almost sounded as if it were a chant…
I drew back, confusion tugging me away. Why on earth people would be chanting unpleasant hymns in the dead of night was beyond logic at this hour.
Maybe the thudding was only the result of a clandestine affair.
Hadn’t I already learned this lesson with Daciana and Ileana?
I turned, ready to march myself back into bed, then paused.
Whispers grew louder, cresting like waves before crashing back to near-silence. This was no romantic tryst in the tower. As the voices let the fervor of their cryptic song distract them, I was able to recognize every few words, chanted in Romanian.
“Bone… Blood… Here… something… dead… wings of black… heart of… enter… woods alone… he’ll mark… tracks… Hunt… down… then…”
Thud. The chanting stopped as if a guillotine had severed the tongues from whoever dared speak such blasphemous words on this hallowed winter’s eve. I didn’t want to give any credence to Radu’s superstitions, but perhaps there was something other about this night.
Light flickered beneath the doorframe, gilding the floor and lapping at my slippered toes.
I dared not move. I sucked in a quiet breath, watching as the light faded down the corridor, accompanied by the sounds of something being dragged behind going with it.
At least two sets of boots marched rhythmically down the stairs, their stolen cargo dully thumping after.
Curiosity reached inside my mind, making thinking logically difficult.
If I didn’t follow them soon, I’d lose them in the maze of castle corridors.
Going alone seemed an awful idea, and yet what else was I to do?
I couldn’t very well pretend nothing untoward was happening.
There wasn’t enough time to rush down to Thomas’s sleeping chamber and wake him.
Plus, he shared the floor with other male students.
I could not imagine the scandal I would cause by dragging him from his bed this late at night.
We would both lose our place in the academy.
And rumors of clandestine affairs would surely reach those in London who seemed to gain power through gossip and trade it as if it were currency.
I wished Anastasia had returned—she would surely have assisted with this dilemma.
I bit my lip. I didn’t think our murderer was behind this midnight theft—I couldn’t imagine why he’d steal a body.
He enjoyed murdering, not corpse robbing.
Indecision continued to toy with the rational section of my brain.
The part that said I should wake the headmaster and let him deal with the thieves.
I could imagine the twisted curve of his mouth when I relayed what I’d heard.
His sneer sharp enough to pierce skin and draw blood. That decided it, then.
I rushed across the room and fetched my cloak and a scalpel, hands shaking so powerfully I almost dropped my weapon.
At least I was armed with some measure of defense.
If I ran to Moldoveanu, he would snap at the late-night intrusion and think me a liar.
I might even end up as one of the bones he picked his teeth with.
I’d rather take my chances with the body snatchers and their wicked-sounding chants.
I dashed into the corridor and ran down the stairs, catching the last flicker of movement before they entered the lower levels, and halted, my breath catching.
Apparently, we were going subterranean with the stolen corpse.