I touched the parchment in my pocket, assuring myself it was indeed real and not a figment of my imagination. It terrified me that it might be connected to the murder on the train. I dared not consider what message it was meant to convey by being left in my compartment. Or who might have been skulking about without my knowledge.
I stood before the fireplace, allowing its warmth to wrap itself around my bones as I considered a plan. Once we had entered the castle, Moldoveanu never stated that we had a curfew. Or that I was not permitted to wander the halls. It would be quite the scandal if discovered, but I could sneak down to Thomas’s chambers in a—
Creaking floorboards somewhere inside my quarters had my heart bashing against my chest. Images of murderers creeping through train cars and leaving cryptic notes with dragons on them assaulted me. He was here. He’d followed us to this castle and now he’d impale me, too. I’d been a fool not to confide in Thomas while Mrs. Harvey was napping. Breathe, I commanded myself. I needed a weapon. There was a candelabra across the room, but it was too far to snatch without being seen by whoever might be lurking in the bedchamber or water closet.
Instead of drawing too close to those rooms without a weapon, I plucked a large book from the shelves, ready to swing it at someone’s head. Knocking them out or stunning them was the best I could do. My focus drifted around the sitting room. It was empty. Completely and utterly void of any living thing, as I’d already determined. A quick scan of the bedchamber showed me the same result. I didn’t bother with the water closet; it was likely too small to contain any real threat. The creaking noise was likely the castle settling. I sighed and placed the book back on its shelf. It was truly going to be a dreadful winter.
I was grateful for the fireplace. It thawed my nerves. Even in the cramped space, the heat made me feel as if I were on an island in the tropics as opposed to a lonely tower in an icy castle, hearing things that weren’t as terrifying as my own imagination.
I rubbed small circles around the center of my brow ridge. Memories of Jack the Ripper’s final moments in that godforsaken laboratory as he flipped the switch… I stopped myself right there. Grief needed to release me from its stubborn embrace. I could not keep doing this to myself night after night. Jack the Ripper was never coming back. His experiments were over. Just like his life.
The same held true for this castle. Dracula lived no more.
“Everything’s so bloody difficult,” I swore to myself as I plopped onto the settee. At least I thought I was alone, until someone choked back laughter from behind a closed door. My cheeks flushed as I grabbed the large candelabra and rushed to the barely lit water closet. “Hello? Who’s there? I demand you show yourself at once.”
“Imi pare rau, domnisoara.” A young maid stood abruptly from her place near the tub, apologizing as her cleaning rag plunked into a bucket. Gray eyes stared back at me. She wore an off-white peasant blouse tucked into a patchwork skirt with an embroidered apron. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. My name is Ileana.”
Her accent was soft and inviting—a hint of summer whispering through a desolate winter night. Black hair was braided and coiled under her maid’s cap, and her apron was smudged with ashes, presumably from the blazing fireplace she’d stoked before I’d en
tered the room. I released a breath.
“Please don’t bother calling me ‘miss.’ ‘Audrey Rose’ or just plain ‘Audrey’ is perfectly fine.” I glanced around at the newly cleaned washroom. Liquid flames reflected off each dark surface, reminding me of spilled blood catching the moonlight. Like the bodily fluids leaking from Jack the Ripper’s double-event victims. I swallowed the image away. The castle was wreaking havoc on my already morbid memory. “Are you assigned to this tower?”
Color blossomed across her skin as she nodded, noticeable even under layers of ash and grime. “Yes, domnisoara… Audrey Rose.”
“Your English accent is excellent,” I said, impressed. “I’m hoping to improve my Romanian while here. Where did you learn the language?”
I snapped my mouth shut after asking. It was a dreadfully rude thing to comment on. Ileana simply smiled. “My mother’s family passed it along to each of their children.”
It was an odd thing for a poor family from the village of Brasov, but I let it pass. I did not wish to insult a potential new friend any further. I caught myself fiddling with the buttons on the side of my gloves and stopped.
Ileana hoisted a bucket on her ample hip and nodded toward the door. “If I don’t finish lighting fires in the boys’ rooms, I’ll be in a world of trouble, dom—Audrey Rose.”
“Of course,” I said, wringing my hands. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was without Liza, and how much I wanted a girl friend. “Thank you for cleaning. If you leave some supplies, I can help.”
“Oh, no. Headmaster Moldoveanu wouldn’t approve. I’m to tend to the rooms when they’re unoccupied. I wasn’t expecting you for a few more moments.” My face must have displayed my disappointment. Her expression softened. “If you’d like, I can bring breakfast up to your rooms. I do it for the other girl here.”
“There’s another girl staying this winter?”
Ileana nodded slowly, her smiling growing wide to match my own. “Da, domnisoara. She’s the headmaster’s ward. Would you like to meet her?”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “I should like it very much.”
“Do you need assistance changing for bed?”
I nodded, and Ileana got to work on my corset. Once she’d worked it off and I was standing in my chemise, I thanked her. “I’ll handle it from here.”
Ileana nudged the door open with her hip, then bid me good night in Romanian. “Noapte buna.”
I glanced at the washroom, realizing that she’d also filled the tub with hot water. Steam rose in tendrils, beckoning me in. I bit my lip, contemplating the warm bath. I supposed it would be too improper to march into Thomas’s chambers this late at night, and I did not wish to be ruined in society’s eyes because of my impatience. And the drawing of the dragon would still be there in the morning…
I slipped out of my underclothes, feeling the warmth of both the water and friendship sink into my weary bones.
Perhaps the next few weeks wouldn’t be as horrid as I’d thought.
TOWER CHAMBERS
CAMERE DIN TURN