Silver in the Blood (26 page)

“Radu and Prince Mattias Dracula have abducted Dacia,” she said in a low voice.

Lord Johnny, who had just raised his teacup to his lips, nearly spit tea across the table at her. At the last moment, he turned his head, and merely choked. Mr. Arkady slapped him on the back, his brows drawn together.

“You are certain of this?” he asked, while his companion recovered and wiped his mouth and streaming eyes with his own napkin.

“Where did they take her?” Lord Johnny asked before Lou could answer. “When did this happen?”

“I don't know where,” Lou said, smiling brightly at a passing waiter as she stirred sugar into her tea.

Lou had no idea how far the influence of the Dracula family extended. Anyone here could be a cousin, a friend, or even a spy for Mihai. How well known were Lord Johnny and Mr. Arkady? Were the Draculas watching them?

“It was about an hour ago,” she told them. “Radu went into the house on Rua Silvestre and took Dacia. She was upstairs sleeping. Prince Mattias was driving the carriage. I was out, and didn't know until half an hour after they had left.”

“Why would Radu take her? Why is he helping them?” Lord Johnny demanded.

It galled Lou to say it, because she loved Radu . . . or the person she had known as Radu, the cousin who had written them playful letters. But that cousin was gone, she told herself.

“Radu is a loyal member of the Florescu family,” Lou said, and couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. “As you told us yourself: the Florescus exist to aid the Dracula family. If Prince Mihai ordered Radu to bring him Dacia, Radu would do it. And he did. Now we have to find out where they've gone.”

“Your message said . . . Are you really the Smoke?” Mr. Arkady was looking at her with great admiration.

Lord Johnny was not, however. “She was only trying to get our attention, Theo,” he said. “Miss Neulander cannot possibly be—”

“Yes, I am.” Lou interrupted him. “That is why I was . . . undressed when you called on us earlier. I had just transformed in order to scare away Prince Mihai.”

“You are the first Smoke in generations, then,” Mr. Arkady said eagerly. “I should very much like to see it. It is a rare gift and—”

“
It is not a gift!
” Lord Johnny's voice rose. Lou shushed him, and he looked around, abashed. “I'm sorry. But this is a terrible thing! You have my deepest sympathies! It is no wonder that poor Miss Vreeholt was so traumatized this morning seeing you . . .” His voice trailed away as the reality struck him. “Dacia didn't . . . did Dacia . . . is she . . . ?”

“The Claw,” said Lou tartly. “And the queen of the pack, moreover. She challenged our aunt Kate, and won.”

“How amazing!” Mr. Arkady looked as though he might applaud. Then his brow clouded. “Of course, that gives Mihai all the more incentive to marry her. Any of your relations whose loyalty is more for the Florescu family than the Dracula will still follow Dacia.”

“How will we find her?” The feeling of a clock ticking in her head became even stronger. She had to get Dacia out of there—wherever
there
was—before Prince Mihai forced her into marriage or worse.

“We'll send a message to the Dracula town house,” Lord Johnny said. Whatever disgust he might be feeling at finding out about Dacia and Lou was quickly swept aside, to Lou's relief. “Find out if Mihai is at home to callers.”

“Would they leave Bucharest, do you think?” Mr. Arkady was crumbling a cake between his long fingers. “Take her to his family estate? The castle here is in pieces, but Targoviste, perhaps.”

“There's a castle in Bucharest?” Lou was startled. She'd spent very little time here, but surely she would have noticed a castle rising up among the buildings!

“As I said, it's in pieces,” Mr. Arkady repeated, not unkindly. “It was Tepes's residence, but all that's left is a few pillars and the cellars. Another day I would love to show it to you.”

Lord Johnny frowned at him. “Yes. A day when Dacia hasn't been abducted!”

Lou and Mr. Arkady shared a chastened look.

“If they are going to Targoviste, they will still be on the road,” Lord Johnny said. “Unless they went to Snagov . . . surely not.” But his eyes flashed at the thought and he and Mr. Arkady looked even more tense.

“What's Snagov?” Lou had to ask twice before they remembered that she was there.

“A church, on an island,” Mr. Arkady said tersely. “Built by the Dracula family. It's very isolated.”

“A church?” Lou felt like a plucked harp string. If Mihai had had Dacia taken directly to a church . . . her head reeled.

Then something happened.

“So high up,” she murmured. A sudden vision of a copper drainpipe came to her, and the feeling of a rain-laden breeze touching her bare shoulders. “I don't think that will hold my weight . . .”

She looked up and realized that both gentlemen were staring at her.

“Are you quite well?” Mr. Arkady half rose, concerned.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't know what came over me! I suddenly felt faint . . . well, I felt as though I were on the roof of a building, and I—” She stopped babbling.

Lord Johnny reached across the table and gripped her hand. “Did you suddenly feel faint, or did you suddenly feel . . . Dacia?”

“Pardon?”

“You're very close to your cousin. Did you feel like you were seeing something else? Like you were in another room, or another person? Have you ever felt like this before?”

“What do you mean? I—I haven't—” Lou stopped.

Hadn't she? Hadn't she always known when Dacia was happy or sad? And those flashes, like being dizzy, only what she was seeing was some other room. Or a roof, in this case.

“Miss Neulander,” Lord Johnny said. “We cannot begin to understand what powers you might have in addition to your . . . transformative gift. You and your cousin are very close, as close as sisters, and both very powerful.” He looked at her, urging her to understand.

“So you think that I just saw what Dacia was seeing?”

“It's very possible,” Lord Johnny said.

“Well, she wasn't in a carriage,” Lou said. “And she wasn't in a church.”

“Come upstairs with us, Miss Neulander,” Lord Johnny said, rising. “And we'll find out where she was . . . is.”

 

Smardan Street, Nr. 11, Bucuresti

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Dacia Vreeholt, and I am being held against my will on the top floor of the Rembrandt Hotel. I have been imprisoned here by the will of Prince Mihai Dracula, with his uncle, Prince Mattias Dracula, and my own cousin Radu Florescu acting as his accomplices. I beg of you to help in my rescue by giving this note to the police. Lord Johnathan Harcastle, at the Hotel Bucharest, may also be of assistance, as will my cousin Maria Louisa Neulander of Nr. 32 Rua Silvestre.

I can offer a generous reward in return for my safety and freedom.

Signed,
Miss Dacia Vreeholt

Dacia found that it was not as easy to sleep her captivity away as she had thought. The strain of being abducted had made every nerve in her body stand on edge, and she could not lie still. She got up to prowl around the room, searching in the empty wardrobe and in the drawers of the small writing desk, which held nothing but stationery and an old fountain pen.

She closed the desk, annoyed. She was wearing her comforter like an ancient Roman toga, and she gathered it up and went to sit on the end of the bed in a huff, springing back to her feet as soon as she touched the mattress.

A pen and paper! She felt like a fool for not thinking of writing to the police. Or Lord Johnny. She dropped the comforter and went back to the desk, taking out paper and pen with shaking fingers. Then she stopped to think about what to write. She needed to sound urgent but not hysterical, and the promise of a reward would be helpful. Once she'd gotten it just right she folded the note and printed “Please help!” on the outside.

Dacia carried it out to the balcony and was about to throw it over the edge when she realized that it would probably waft on the breeze and end up in a rain gutter or something equally useless. She carried it back inside and looked around, but couldn't see anything that would weight it down. At least not anything light enough she dared to drop off a balcony. She supposed that she could tie it to a lamp, but that might hit someone on the head and make them less inclined to help her.

At last, for want of anything better, she stuck the pen inside the note and crimped the edges so that it wouldn't fall out. She wouldn't be able to write any more letters, but what was there to say? Either Radu would muster up his courage and help her, or someone would find the note and help her, or she would be stuck there until she starved to death, because she had come to the conclusion that death was preferable to marrying Mihai.

She tossed the paper over the edge of the balcony, throwing it toward the middle of the narrow street so that it would catch more attention. Then she waited and watched. It was getting toward evening, and there was very little traffic on the street. It was narrow enough that few carriages passed by, and there were no pedestrians. She had a sinking feeling that the only person passing would prove to be Mattias, or worse, Mihai.

Then a woman came along the street. She was expensively dressed, with a large hat that made her look like a walking flower basket from Dacia's point of view. She had a parasol, and an attendant footman laden with bundles. Dacia felt her breast swell with hope. Here was someone who wouldn't be afraid to speak to the police, to help a young lady in need! Dacia leaned forward over the edge, even though it made her dizzy to do it,
willing the woman to see her letter lying there, just a few paces away.

The woman passed right by the letter without once looking down. Of course. A well-bred lady would hardly pick up some trash off the street, Dacia realized with despair. She gave it another try.

“Hello! Hello there!” Dacia cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted down at the woman. “Help! Please help!”

The woman did not even look up, though her footman looked around, as though confused as to who was yelling. He didn't raise his head, though, and Dacia gave up when her voice cracked. Even if they did look up, what would they see? A deranged, bare-armed girl waving at them?

She turned and looked at the roof again. There was a copper rain gutter running along the edge of it. She'd heard that burglars used rain pipes and gutters as ladders, but didn't think that it was a skill she could master quickly enough to avoid falling to her death. However, the Rembrandt Hotel was one of the narrowest buildings in Bucharest, and though the building next to it did not have a balcony on the same level, it did have an attic window with a small ledge. Dacia wondered if she could creep along the rain gutter to that window, and climb inside the building next door.

She took a few steps toward the side of the building, gathering up her own courage. It was no use waiting to see if someone would pick up the letter, or if Radu would actually try to save her. She needed to save herself.

Dropping her comforter, Dacia started for the wall, thinking
to climb on the low wall surrounding the balcony, and then onto the roof. She reached for the top of the wall, palms wet with sweat. She began slowly raising her knee, trying to find a toehold.

“Dacia! What are you doing?”

Dacia froze, one foot still on the balcony, the other braced against the side of the hotel. Radu was standing in the doorway, a valise in one hand and a shocked expression on his face.

“Were you going to try and climb up the roof?” He dropped the valise with a thud. “You could fall to your death!” He hurried over and grabbed her around the waist, peeling her off the wall.

“I would rather die than marry Mihai,” she snapped, but didn't fight him as he carried her into the room.

“I brought you some clothes,” he told her.

“Oh, thank heavens. I didn't want to die in my underthings,” she said, briefly postponing her climb down the hotel facade.

As she took the valise from Radu, she noticed that he was blushing and averting his eyes. She smacked him on the arm, hoping it left a mark.

“Are you truly embarrassed to see me like this? It's your fault I'm here!” She flared her nostrils. “And you've seen me turn into a monster anyway!”

She lugged the valise over to the bed and found that it was full of Romanian-style gowns. She was a bit disappointed: it would have given her a sense of superiority to face Mihai in her French wardrobe. On the other hand, without a maid it would be far simpler to dress herself in the loose Romanian style.

She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar smell rising from the clothing and studied the blue-and-yellow embroidery. Of course, Radu could hardly go back and make small talk with Lou while a maid packed her things. But whom did these clothes belong to, and how had Radu gotten them?

As though sensing her thoughts, Radu said stiffly, “They were my mother's. They are quite clean.” He fingered a bit of the embroidery. “She didn't like wearing the Florescu red all the time.”

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Dacia said, chastened. “Thank you.”

“It's all right,” he said. “I wanted to tell you: you didn't turn into a monster, Dacia,” Radu said earnestly. “You turned into a wolf. A very beautiful, powerful wolf.”

“That's what you think,” Dacia said briskly, taking out a gown, sash, and apron. “I see it somewhat differently. But then, I'm not under the thumb of Lady Ioana and the Draculas.”

“Dacia, I—”

“If you want to help me, you'll get me out of here,” Dacia said. She was pushing down thoughts of Radu's mother, her late aunt Mina, who had died when Radu was twelve. She had been a Florescu by blood and marriage, Uncle Horia's second or third cousin. Had she been the Claw? What had she been like? Would she have approved of her son abducting Dacia? “If you're not going to help,” Dacia went on, “then you can go. It's bad enough that I have to live with this curse; I don't need to have my own family betray me as well.”