The Vengeance of the Vampire Bride (32 page)

Adem traveled with me in
the carriage while our guards rode behind. In the darkness, I felt
safe and hidden away from spying eyes. Even now, despite Vlad’s
violent intrusion into my life, I was aware of all that I had
learned from Ignatius and Astir. Ilinca and Gavril could be nearby
watching my journey to Sir Stephan’s home.

Upon our arrival, Adem
quickly leaped out of the carriage and flipped down the steps so I
could disembark. I had scarcely set my foot upon the ground, when
the door to the manor opened and Sir Stephan himself appeared. His
thin face revealed his distaste for me far more than it should
have. He would never treat me in this manner if Vlad were about,
but I would rather deal with Sir Stephan being inhospitable than
have Dracula return.

“Countess Dracula, good
evening,” he said in greeting, leaning down to kiss my
hand.

“Thank you for assisting me in this
matter.” I withdrew my hand quickly and entered his home. Sir
Stephan followed, his breath a little ragged. I suspected he was
holding back his anger.

“I do not understand why you would be
in need of a fortuneteller. My wife is a desperate woman who misses
her child. Certainly you are not trying to reach your family from
beyond the grave?” Deep furrows formed on his brow and about his
mouth as he regarded me with both contempt and fear.

“Why I need the fortuneteller is none
of your concern. Must I remind you that your job is to do as my
husband and I say?” I lifted my brows at him and was satisfied when
his face flushed.

“You know that I am ever at your
disposal,” he reluctantly responded.

“I know we pay you handsomely and you
do a satisfactory job. My husband is pleased with your work. I hope
you will continue in that same vein and not disappoint him.” I was
rather pleased with myself. I have grown quite adept at
manipulation of late. Certainly Vlad would be proud and though the
thought makes me a little bitter it is also a comfort that I am
adapting to my new nature.

A maid assisted me with my coat and
bonnet, her downcast eyes and pinched expression revealing much
about the atmosphere in the house. I could feel the tension filling
the halls and knew I was responsible.

“Has the fortuneteller arrived?” Adem
loomed over Sir Stephan, his dark eyes penetrating and
cold.

“Yes, yes,” the sufficiently cowed man
answered. “She arrived a short while ago. Maria is speaking with
her in the parlor.” He hesitated before continuing, “I must say in
my defense that I am only concerned.”

“Your concern is the work my husband
has assigned you and nothing more. Let us not play games, Sir
Stephan. We are not friends. You offer a service to my husband that
can easily be assigned to another solicitor.” I let him feel the
cold power of my wrath and he stepped away from me.

“Glynis! You’re here! Father said you
would be visiting,” Laura called out. She hurried down the hall
toward me, smiling with delight.

Turning my attention to her, I smiled
an honestly happy smile and greeted her warmly. “I suppose it
rather silly, but I suddenly wanted to have my fortune
told.”

Laura giggled as she clutched my hands.
“I have done it myself. It is all a bit mysterious, isn’t it? She’s
blind, you see. She holds your hands and strokes them. It’s quite
odd, but she did tell me many interesting predictions that I
certainly hope will come true.”

“Oh, you must tell me what she said!” I
forgot Sir Stephan and his disagreeable attitude as Laura hooked
her arm about mine and we hurried down the hallway
together.

“Well, she promised that I would find
the life I am yearning for,” Laura said in hushed tones, her
expression joyous.

“Oh, that is a lovely prediction!” I
squeezed her arm and smiled at her affectionately.

Tonight she was clad in a pale peach
concoction with tiny silk orange blossoms sewn about her collar and
petticoats. Her dark hair was drawn back into a waterfall of tight
curls and she wore a delicate gold necklace strung with pearls
around her throat. The flush of her cheeks and the brightness of
her eyes were a lovely testament to her happiness. Her mood was
infectious and my fears dissipated as we neared the
parlor.

“I am so very thrilled at the thought
of being free of my parents constant nagging. I’m so tired of them
pestering me constantly to settle on Dietrich. Father asked Percy
quite directly if he was attempting to court me and Percy told him
he was not. Father sent him away for wasting our time!” She bit her
lip, fighting back the anger that would quash her good
mood.

“It does not matter. You will see him
when you visit me.” I kissed her cheek and she blushed
prettily.

The door to the parlor opened and Maria
stepped into the hallway. She looked more harried than usual, her
dark hair not as neat as she normally kept it, and her dress
slightly rumpled.

“Countess Dracula,” she exclaimed, her
worried expression disappearing beneath the false veneer she so
easily slipped over her features. Teeth flashing, eyes sparkling,
she suddenly appeared to be the most radiant woman in Buda. “I am
so honored that you called upon me to host this little night of
mystery.”

“The fortuneteller is within the parlor
I am told.” I tried not to sound miffed, but from Laura’s look of
concern I realized I had failed.

“Yes, yes. The room is ready for a
séance. We merely need to enter and begin.”

Sir Stephan advanced quietly into the
conversation. “I do not feel comfortable with Laura being a part of
this.”

“Father!”

“It is quite all right,” Maria began to
protest.

“I am entering with Adem and no one
else.” My voice cut through the raised voices around me and
rendered them silent. “This is a personal matter.”

Laura pouted slightly, but her hand
touched mine lightly. “I understand.”

“Of course, if that is what you
desire,” Maria stammered, unsure of the situation. She lived in
fear of me and Vlad, yet she was complicit in many of our
dealings.

“Perhaps you should have summoned the
fortuneteller to the palace,” Sir Stephan said, his tone
dangerously defiant.

My glare silenced him.

Adem opened the parlor door and I left
my hosts behind, slipping into the warm darkness within. The
fortuneteller sat at a round table draped in black fabric with a
single white candle flickering in the center. The woman before me
was not what I had anticipated. I thought I would be facing a
crone, but this woman was very young, perhaps a little older than
I. Clad in traditional gypsy clothing and jewelry, she was an
exotic creature with black hair and dusky skin. Her blind, white
eyes were heavily lined with makeup and somehow they did not
detract from her beauty. The room smelled of incense and
herbs.

The door clicked closed behind me, and
I stood in the gloom hoping with all my heart this mysterious woman
could help me.

“I know what you are,” she said,
speaking in a heavy accent. Holding up a hand decorated with many
rings, she compelled me to stay where I stood.

A man emerged from the shadows to stand
behind her. He was much older with more white hair than black and a
thick mustache. Also dressed in traditional gypsy clothing, he
rested one hand on her shoulder.

“I mean no harm,” I said in a tone I
hoped sounded gentle and not too desperate.

Adem placed his hand on my shoulder,
mirroring the gypsy man.

Her blind eyes stared in my direction,
the sound of her deep breaths filling the room. The warm air felt
abruptly heavier and more fragrant as she sat in total stillness.
At last, she raised both hands, her fingers twisting into a strange
salute.

“Sit down,” she said at last, lowering
her arms.

The gypsy man took three steps back,
but did not take his gaze from me.

With as much dignity as I could muster,
I sat down and rested my hands upon my lap, my small purse tucked
under my fingers. Adem remained behind me, ready to defend me at a
second’s notice.

The fortuneteller lifted a heavy bag
made of embroidered silk onto the table and rummaged through it. At
last, she laid a black stone, pitch as night before her. Without a
word, she returned the bag to the floor at her side. Extending her
arms, she rested her hands upon the table, palms up.

“Give me your hands,” she
ordered.

I obeyed. My white cold flesh looked
strikingly pale against her dark warm skin. She did not flinch away
from me, but stretched out her fingers beneath my hands. She did
not say a word, did not blink, and did not speak for many minutes.
Finally, she slid her hands around mine, raised my palms upwards,
and rested her fingertips in the center of them.

“You are young, not old. You are
powerful, but untamed. You are passionate, but not truly dangerous
unless riled to anger. You are intelligent, but thoughtless. You
are wise, yet foolish,” she said, the suddenness of her voice
sluicing through the darkened room startling me. She enfolded my
left hand in both of hers, kneading it like bread dough. Her own
fingers were rough, but somehow soothing. “You are afraid of a dark
creature of the night. One of your own kind. He haunts you and
hunts you. Like a great bat against the moon, he watches you from
afar.”

“I want protection from him,” I dared
to whisper.

Pulling at my fingers lightly, she
nodded. “The dragon. I see him now.” Her lips turned into a smile
and the coins decorating her scarves tinkled as she bent toward my
hands. “I see the thread between you. It’s red and black, full of
fire and pain. It pulses with your blood and fear, feeding
him.”

I did not understand her words, yet
they felt true.

“Blood of his blood, power of his
power, his flesh calls to you always because he made you.” The tip
of one of her fingers slowly drew along my palm, as though tracing
a line only her blind eyes could see. “Bound. You are
bound.”

“Please, you must help me fight him. I
wish to be free of him,” I said, my desperation weakening my
tone.

Sitting in silence, the woman’s blind
eyes appeared to stare into a world where she could witness the
bond between me and Vlad and know my secrets.

“I cannot break the bond between you.”
She withdrew her hands and took the ring from my finger as she did
so. I was about to protest, when she held it up. “This I can curse.
He gave it to you as a symbol of his dominion over you.”

“Yes, yes he did.”

“Why do you wear it still?”

“Because it has the power to help me
live my own life as I see fit.” I had not realized that the ring
could be anything more than a token, but now that it was gone from
my finger, I understood my naiveté. I felt the absence of it
keenly.

“I can curse it so that he cannot use
it as a beacon to find you, or as gateway to your blood and power.
The curse cannot break the bond, but it can hide you from him, do
you understand?”

The dark red stone flickered in the
candlelight. I nodded my head as I pondered how often Vlad had used
the ring to find me and haunt me, sapping away tiny bits of my
power and life.

Adem moved closer to the table, his
hands resting on my shoulders. I took comfort in his touch and
watched as the silk bag was drawn onto the table again. The gypsy
woman drew out leather pouches, touching the raised symbols branded
on to them. At last she selected three. Reaching into the bag, she
pulled out a black bowl and a small jar filled with what appeared
to be muddy water.

The gypsy man stepped forward to help
her open the small bags and measure the herbs into the bowl. They
spoke in their own language in soft voices. It appeared the older
man was her father from the concerned looks he cast in my direction
and the gentle way he guided her hands. The herbs and water were
all mixed together in the bowl until it formed a watery paste. I
flinched as she placed the ring into the murky mixture, pressing it
down so it disappeared. Picking up the black stone, she held it in
one hand, crossing it over the bowl as she chanted.

Adem shifted on his feet behind me and
I knew he was discomforted by what we were witnessing. I, too, was
quite nervous, remembering old tales of witchcraft. But what
recourse did I have? I was not certain God could hear my prayers,
and I needed to be free of Vlad’s wrath. Desperation had brought me
to this moment, and I would not flinch from it.

I did not see the curse the gypsy
created, but I felt it. It tingled along my skin like angry
insects. The room darkened as the candle brightened. Adem gasped
behind me as the buzzing sensation grew in intensity. The shadows
swallowed the room save for the tiny pool of light around the
candle that was illuminating the bowl. The gypsy woman slowly
dragged the bowl out of the circle of candlelight and into the
darkness. As the lip of the bowl vanished into the dark, I felt the
angry bite of a thousand bugs on my skin.

I gasped.

The room brightened abruptly, the
darkness fleeing. The gypsy sat at the table, calmly cleaning the
ring on a white cloth.