26. Mina
Mina
A trill of panpipe music echoed down the hall and through the open door, and Cristian said nothing. Distantly, Louna could hear the rumble of thunder through the castle walls, and lightning flickered against the window.
Cristian took a breath. “The Black Swan,” he repeated. “The thief.”
Louna held up the statue.
“I see.” Cristian studied the figure as if he’d never seen it before, but still did not move. “My father bought that. He’s fascinated by Dacian relics. He thinks of them as a symbol of power, a tie back to our roots.”
“It’s beautiful,” Louna said.
Cristian nodded. “It is. He’d be furious if anything happened to it. He’d be furious with me—I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
Louna waved toward the door. “Then shouldn’t you call for help?”
He examined her, his mouth relaxed. “Why? Are you dangerous?”
“Yes,” she said. “But not to you.”
His gaze dropped to Kotys. “Then I suppose there’s a reason you need that. I wish you had asked me instead of stealing it. I would have given it to you.”
Surprise softened the adrenaline pounding through her, and she lowered the figure. “I wouldn’t have taken it from the castle. It isn’t the statue I need, it’s the theft.”
He tilted his head. “For what purpose?”
Louna studied the way the bat wings shaped his face, how all her hard work had contrived to make the man before her look commanding and unworldly, and how softly he was speaking.
“There’s a man in the dungeons,” Louna said.
“A man,” Cristian echoed slowly. “Who?”
Louna weighed the time she would lose in an explanation against his right to know what was happening, and pulled together the basic details.
“He’s an American who was framed for murder.
A few days ago, when he was being taken to his trial, he was captured and brought here.
The men who took him know your father, and they thought this would be a safe place to hold a prisoner. ”
The corners of Cristian’s mouth pulled down. “Ah. Well that explains why he was so insistent I host my party at home instead of here. I’ve never really disobeyed him before—I suppose he didn’t think to make sure I’d listened.”
“You saved a man’s life by disobeying,” Louna said gently.
Cristian blinked. “Is it that serious?”
“It is,” Louna said. “For more than just him.”
Once again, Cristian fell silent. He looked at Kotys, then back at her, working through what she’d told him.
“I know the kind of men my father works with,” he said finally.
“I don’t want to be associated with his…
other business. It’s why I go by Ardelean.
I have no trouble believing these men are dangerous, but everyone can be reasoned with. If I pay them—”
“They are being paid,” Louna said. “And they’ve been seen.”
He pursed his lips, processing. “You mean that they’ll escalate. If they think I know anything, they’ll kill me to keep me quiet.”
“And anyone else they think is involved,” Louna said.
“Then everyone here is in danger,” he said, deflating.
Louna set Kotys back on the shelf. “There’s a way to avoid that,” she said.
A spark of hope lit in his eyes. “You have a plan?”
“I have a team,” Louna said, reaching into her pocket for her earbud. She put it in and opened her mouth to ask Tennyson for an update, and instead was greeted by the sound of harsh breaths and grunts of pain.
“Tennyson?” she asked sharply. “What’s happening?”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Tennyson can’t come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?”
“What’s going on?” Louna demanded.
“Hartmann ordered his men to arm themselves and take the castle,” Lindsey said. “Tenny’s blocking them from the gunroom, but he’s outnumbered.”
“Hartmann’s not—” Tennyson grunted. He broke off, and Louna held her breath as he did something that elicited a scream from whoever he was fighting. “He’s not here. I don’t know—” another loud exhale as he struck his opponent “—where he is.”
He stopped to hit someone again, and Lindsey jumped into the gap. “You have to get everyone out of the castle.”
No. Not before they got Lindsey out. “How many men are there?” she asked.
“Four left,” Tennyson growled.
Louna nodded. Cristian watched her, his mouth a flat line beneath his mask, then stepped into the room. “What do you need?”
“We need to get the guards away from the dungeon,” Louna said. “And we need the guests out of the castle safely.”
“How?”
The music in the hall stopped, and there was a pause before the pipe player began a new song. Louna gave Cristian a significant look.
He held her gaze, waiting for her to explain—so trusting, so young. Then he realized she was waiting for him, and he glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to find someone else in the hall. “Me?”
“You are the host,” Louna said. “You have the presence. You know who is here. Who else could it be?”
“But I can’t—” Cristian sputtered.
Louna raised a hand to cut him off. “You’re the only other one who knows. If you do not get them out, there is no one else to help.”
The skin beneath Cristian’s mask had gone pale. “You will free your friend,” he said, working through her plan, “while I’m getting everyone out. You’ll use that as your distraction.”
She nodded, and Cristian sucked in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You will,” Louna said, crossing the room and taking his hands. “Because you must. They have no other hope. I have no other hope.”
His fingers shook, but he did not pull away. “You’ll leave then, I suppose. I won’t see you again.”
She squeezed his hands.
He sighed. “Well, Dracula didn’t end up with Mina, either. Will you be all right?”
“Yes,” Louna said. She reached up and removed his mask, smiling into his open, terrified expression. “And so will you. This is your reveal, Cristian. Your perfect moment.”
He inhaled, held the breath, and let it out. “‘There are darknesses in life and there are lights,’” he said. “‘You are one of the lights.’”
It was a quote from Count Dracula, a line of thanks given to Mina for her help in an investigation, and Louna smiled and released him.
“Happy birthday,” she said, beaming at him.
She left before he had the chance to prolong the parting, hurrying into the main hall and pausing to listen to Tennyson’s breathing.
It was still relatively even—no sounds of pain—so she lifted her skirts and jogged across the shadow-dappled floor toward the kitchen.
She and Tennyson had found a hidden door near the kitchen, and she came to a stop beside it and touched her finger to her earbud.
“Philippe,” she said. “Jean-Claude. Where are you?”
“Taking care of the guns,” Jean-Claude answered.
“When you’re finished, get to the van,” Louna said. “It’s time.”
“Tennyson’s still busy,” Lindsey said.
Cristian emerged from the study and straightened his shoulders, taking a fortifying breath before striding across the floor to the music hall.
“I know,” Louna said. “I’m going to break you out.”
A hiss broke through the comms, and Louna winced at the vehemence of it. “Stay out of the dungeons,” Tennyson said sharply. “We don’t know where Hartmann is.”
“He’s locked in one of the bedrooms upstairs,” Louna said.
“I heard something break over the radio,” Tennyson said. “He may have escaped. Stay where you are.”
“If he escaped,” Louna said, “he’ll try to draw you into some kind of stupid final battle once you’re tired out.
He’ll be watching you, or watching the doors from the courtyard so he can stop you when you go back for Lindsey—and he’ll be on the ground level so he can use the guests as hostages.
If I go in through the secret passages, he’ll never even know.
When you’re finished cleaning up outside, you’ll meet us in the parking lot, and we’ll be gone before Hartmann realizes he’s too late. ”
“We can’t leave him with the guests,” Tennyson argued.
The music stopped mid-song, and Louna smiled. “We won’t,” she said. “Cristian is handling it.”
A hush fell over the crowd, and Louna hurried to the hidden door she and Tennyson had found outside the kitchen as the few people left in the hall turned to see what was happening.
“Honored guests,” Cristian said, his voice clear and strong over the assembly.
“I hate to disrupt our festivities, but I’ve just received word that there is a gas leak within the castle.
” A murmur went through the crowd, but Cristian spoke calmly over them.
“If you would please direct yourselves to the nearest exit...”
The s stone drowned out the rest of his words as Louna opened the hidden door and slipped inside. She pulled it closed and took out her phone, turning on the light and following it down the dark tunnel toward the cellar.
“Gas leak?” Lindsey asked.
“It’s a good excuse,” Louna said. “It will make your guards want to leave as well.”
“The guests are evacuating,” Jean-Claude said in a hushed voice. “The staff as well. We hid the guns and we’re headed to the lot, but there’s going to be a bit of a jam if everyone tries to leave at once.”
“There’s a maintenance trail half a mile from the lower lot,” Tennyson said, the barest hint of strain weighing on his words.
“Wait for us there. There’s a path from the door on the southern wall—” He grunted, and Louna held her breath as she hurried through the darkness.
“Louna, wait there. Lindsey and I will meet you.”
“I’m already halfway to the dungeon,” Louna said. “You meet us there.”
“Louna—”
“The stone is interfering with the signal,” Louna said calmly. “I can’t hear you.”
“Louna.”
She ignored him, focusing instead on the path she’d walked with Tennyson the day before. Luckily, she had a good memory for spatial puzzles, and she found her way to the lower floors quickly.
“Do you hear anyone, Lindsey?” she asked, leaning her free ear against the spot in the wall that hid the secret door.
Tennyson growled, but apparently decided that arguing would be worse than letting her listen.
“I can’t tell,” Lindsey said. “Be careful.”