The Deadliest Bite (14 page)

Dave held his fist up and pushed it toward Vayl. “We’l find your boy,” he vowed.

“We’l find him,” confirmed Cole as he steadily scratched Jack’s head. “But where exactly are we starting?” He glanced away from Bergman’s tinkering with Astral to peer down the rutted asphalt road, which was now far enough from the city for only sporadic traffic, al of which seemed to be passing us.

“We wil stop at Peles Castle first. Your group wil begin its mission from there,” said Vayl. “The castle was not yet built when my family and I traveled this area, but it works as a fine landmark. Walk into the forest directly north of the tal est spire. The pines are quite dense around the castle, so it wil not be easy to find the path, but I was here a month ago and cleared it myself. So once you find it, rest assured it wil lead you to the spot.”

“You can count on us,” said Dave.

Vayl inclined his head slightly as he said, “Just be careful. I would hate for this entire mission to fail because someone”—he raised his eyebrow a bit at Cole—“decided to see how the local security detail felt about chattering vampire teeth.”

Cole crossed his heart solemnly as he said, “I wil keep my fake fangs in my pocket until the deed is done.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Vayl. “Now
you
try to do the same, okeydokey, sweetie pie?”

I’d never thought I would see the day when Vayl rol ed his eyes like an irate ninth grader, but then Cole manages to bring out the juvie in al of us sooner or later. Which was probably why we were al stil relatively sane. Cassandra rescued the conversation by asking, “What wil you be doing while we’re trying to find Hanzi?”

Vayl explained how he and I, plus Aaron and Raoul, would be driving my Galaxie back to Peles Castle. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he sat back and let his arm fal into his lap. “Best of luck to al of us. And please remember, I am trying to save my children. I would be eternal y grateful if, this time, you helped me succeed.”

Saturday, June 16, 10:30 p.m
.

After doing another Party Line sound check at Bergman’s insistence, we separated at the car park of Peles Castle. Since security would come to investigate us within two to three minutes, we pul ed out of the lot together, but Dave parked on the shoulder of the road just outside of Peles, turned on his emergency blinkers, and left the bus open in case somebody decided to investigate.

I drove the Galaxie to Pelisor so quickly I barely had time to wonder what the rest of our crew was doing, or why Astral wasn’t feeding me any video. Then I realized she was, she just happened to be looking at the grass as she walked, because every once in a while I could see one of her paws step into the picture. Then a huge pink tongue slurped across her nose.
Way to go, Jack! Keep that
robokitty on her toes—not to mention all the humans who sometimes need to be reminded that
the most important things in life are big, wet kisses
.

I glanced at Vayl, wondering if I should lay one on him.
Definitely soon
, I decided, as I brought my car to rest in a smal park where, during the daytime, visitors might stop and have lunch before returning to the nearest city, which cal ed itself Sinaia and catered to skiers, hikers, rock climbers, and people who’d convinced themselves the mineral springs were actual y the Fountain of Youth.

Tourists got a huge kick out of the castles, of course, and in the daytime Pelisor’s little nook of Romania looked like it had been peeled off a painting, with bright green grass and dark green pines forming a smal break in the endless rol of the Carpathian Mountains. Pelisor itself was kinda homey for a castle, which had been the intent of its first owner, King Carol I. The main reason, I decided, was the hodgepodge of materials that had been used to build the place.

The foundation was formed from traditional gray castle stone. It was topped by German-cottage-style gables, with medieval church archways and turrets that looked pink in some lights and sandy brown in others pinched between. Topped by so many russet-colored roofs that it seemed as if the place had been built in sections and superglued together, it confused the hel out of my white-siding senses. And yet it worked.

I almost regretted getting past the caretaker so easily. Despite Raoul’s tour-guide costume, the slope-shouldered old gent hadn’t fal en for our American-VIPs story at first. Then Vayl had laid a gentle arm around his shoulder, looked deep into his eyes, and spoken to him in his own tongue while shoving hypnotic suggestions down his throat. He’d instantly dropped a handful of castle maps into our hands and shuffled away, twitching like he was trying to shake a persistent mosquito. I found myself wishing he’d fought Vayl’s push a little harder. Then I wouldn’t have had to face the gilding so soon.

“Oh. My. God.” I stopped three steps into the Gold Room, where Queen Marie’s ghost appeared the most, forcing Aaron to backpedal so he wouldn’t slam into me. His curse drew itself out when he got a load of our new surroundings.

“Shee-it!” he said, sliding past me to wander around the room’s edge, slowly, like he had to get his bearings or he just might get lost amid the glitter. Raoul had stationed himself near the center by a chaise longue draped with black lace. It was in startling contrast to the rest of the space, which shone with the color of power. Not purple. Nuh-uh. I’ve-got-a-Golden-Ticket gold.

Gilded thistles covered the wal s and ceiling of the room, the center of which held a Celtic cross framed by four golden lights. I immediately looked to Vayl to see how he’d be affected by the holy sign. He’d noticed it right away too, and was checking the backs of his hands for signs of smoke.

“Don’t worry,” Raoul told him as he nodded toward the cross. “You’re under my protection here.” Vayl stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thank you,” he said. He went to the opposite side of the room, where a door flanked by two arched stained glass windows would let beautiful light in during the day. I tried to gauge his mood by the way his shoulders strained against his suit coat, but it was too hard to tel while his back was turned. So I let my eyes wander to the Tiffany lamp on the heavy rectangular table that sat between the chaise and the bank of windows, which gave the room an unearthly glow. Stately square chairs sat at each end of the table. At a diagonal behind one of them a double throne—I couldn’t think of it in any other terms—waited for its owner’s return. Behind the other a golden cabinet held some of Marie’s most treasured possessions. A book of poetry written in her own hand. A pair of giant pearl earrings surrounded by diamonds. A blue velvet hat trimmed with white fur. A statue of her daughter, Elisabeth, lifting her face to a refreshing breeze, her long hair and ruffled skirts flying behind her.

Vayl turned, the dimple on his right cheek appearing briefly as he asked, “Jasmine? Is this what you would cal over-the-top?”

I said, “Vayl? This freaking room is the reason royals should be wired with an off switch.” Aaron said, “Holy shitsky, this guy’s got a gold dick!” He was pointing at a statue that stood beside the flower-painted doorway we’d entered. The artist seemed to be into helmets and swords but little else in the way of armor.

“Shitsky?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Where are you from, Aaron? Sheboygan?”

“Close,” he said. “My mom was from Madison and I grew up in St. Paul.” I crossed my arms. “Nice boys from Wisconsin do not go around kil ing people. Even after they’ve turned into vampires.”

He blew his breath out his nose. “That is exactly something my mom would’ve said.”

“I know. My Granny May was from the Midwest.”

“Is she in the Thin?” he asked hopeful y.

I laughed out loud. “Hel no! She’s probably in God’s left ear right now, informing him that maybe he should change his gemstone polish, because the pearly gates aren’t looking quite as shiny as they should.”

Aaron’s smile suddenly made the whole room look dul by comparison. “Mom was just like that!”

“How about your dad?” I asked.

Instant sorrow. “Not so much. Dad knew two things. How to brew beer. And how to say yes to Mom. I was fifteen when she died, and then it became my job to tel him what to do.” Now I understood how Aaron’s dad had been caught.

Raoul said, “Your father would have been easy prey, then. A wavering soul is a vulnerable one.” The kid dropped his head. “I’ve thought about that. But he’s a good guy.”

“I know.” Raoul gestured down to the chaise. “According to the plaque, this is the spot where Queen Marie died in 1938. This wil be where she returns when I cal her.”

“So that’s what you’re going to do?” I asked.

I came over to stand by him, staring down at the last cradle of a country’s ruler. It did feel different to me, as if I’d sidled up to the emotional firewal of a woman’s entire life. But I knew that I could reach through if I wanted to. That I could touch the sliver of soul that she’d left behind, that continued to cal her back. And it would burn to be so close to such raw humanity.

I clasped my hands behind my back as Raoul said, “If I invited her back to a place where she habitual y walked anyway, we’d al be less likely to become ghost kebabs. You could talk, hopeful y make the deal, and then take it from there. If she even—”

I held my hand up to head off his doubts before he pol uted the room with his negative energy. I said, “I’ve sensed it in Brude. She spends most of her time in the Thin. This is the only place that cal s her back.”

Raoul stared down at the plaque mounted on a gold-painted post. “Al right, I’l buy that. But only because you two are the types who make it your job to know. Did you also know that when she shows up to haunt the place, she heralds her entrance with the scent of her favorite perfume?”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Violets,” Raoul said.

“Nope, we missed that. But we’re not surprised. Are we, Vayl?” I asked as my
sverhamin
came over to join us.

Vayl came over to stand by us. “Nothing the queen did would raise my eyebrows,” he told us.

“Good,” replied Raoul. “Because I’m about to bring her here, and I suspect she’d see that as a sign of weakness.”

“What happened to opening a doorway?” Vayl asked, his voice deepening with frustration.

“The queen wil take you through if you talk fast enough,” said Raoul. He eyed Vayl. “You look frightening enough to curdle milk. I suggest you let Jaz take this one.” Before Vayl could reply he went on. “Marie is a queen, so she’l probably travel with a retinue. I have no idea how many she’l bring with her, but they’l be hungry.” His eyes wandered to Aaron as he finished. “I suggest you stay inside the room until the meeting’s over.”

“Why would we leave?” asked Aaron.

“You could be forced out,” Raoul said. “And for my protection to work at maximum strength right now it can’t extend beyond these four wal s.” He gestured at the wal paper as Aaron began looking for something sturdy to hang on to. Then he said, “As soon as she’s accepted your deal, you’l be al right. But until then, be vigilant.”

“I was a Boy Scout,” Aaron offered. “Is that anything like ‘Be prepared’?” I crossed my arms. “That al depends. What are you preparing to do?” He shrugged. I said, “Wel whatever it is, just don’t touch the ghosts. Nothing enrages them more than to be touched by the living. They’l morph from gracious conversationalists into parasitic bloodsuckers right before your eyes. I’ve known them to slice arteries with rage alone. So, you know, if you can’t figure out how to be prepared. At least be polite.” CHAPTER TWELVE

Saturday, June 16, 10:40 p.m
.

While we set up for the queen’s visit, the other (better?) half of our crew took the short hike to Pelisor’s older and oh-baby-grander brother, Peles.

Astral’s video combined with the Party Line and vivid descriptions by members of what later came to be cal ed the “Bergman Got Bal s Expedition” revealed that security around a museum ful of priceless artifacts just oozing stories related to Romania’s colorful history is as tight as a miser at Christmas. Which was why they didn’t bother knocking. They parked just off of Str. Pelesului and hit the tree line. Dave and Jack took the lead. Cassandra fol owed with Astral at her heels, Bergman at her shoulder, and Cole at her back, his gun drawn but hanging at his side.

“Is that real y going to be necessary?” hissed Bergman, his eyes darting nervously from Cole’s nine-mil imeter Beretta Storm to the moonlit pines surrounding them and beyond, to Peles Castle, which sat in its val ey to their right, sparkling like an amulet ful of diamonds.

“Absolutely,” Cole whispered. “Because you never know when we might be attacked by a horde of Vlad’s impalers. Just imagine it, Miles. Three hundred screaming warriors on horseback, their faces painted with the blood of their enemies, their lances set to pin us against these trees here like a couple of scarecrows.”

“That’s just… Would you stop with the ridiculousness? That’s not even how it happened back then.”

Cole shrugged. “Like I’d know. I spent my entire History class trying to convince the teacher that my dad actual y found Hitler while he was stil alive and that he was the one who shot him. And that my mom was real y Eva Braun. Almost had him convinced too. Then he saw the three of us together at a wrestling tournament, figured out my folks weren’t even alive during World War Two and the whole game col apsed.” Cole sighed. “It was fun while it lasted, though.”

“Shut up back there,” Dave said. “We’re supposed to be skirting security, and it’s gonna be kind of tough to pul off stealth mode while we’re al laughing.”

Cole grinned as Bergman gave him a dirty look, which seemed especial y to be aimed at his Beretta.

“It’s just a precaution,” Cole reassured him. “I promise if I have to, I’l shoot the guns out of their hands just like in the old Westerns.”

“And then wil you sing to them like Roy Rogers used to do?” whispered Cassandra.