Temple of Indra's Witch Page 19

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Witch One Stands Accused

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  By the time I realized what was happening, the door had been kicked in and hands gripped Elena’s arms, even as she fought to flee.

  I stayed quiet and hidden just as she’d warned, but it took only minutes for them to yank open the door and find me as well.

  Accusations rang out, and people stood watching as we were dragged through the woods. We passed a husband and wife in their horse-drawn cart, coffin-shaped with wooden wheels. Elena cried out to them by name and asked them to find Vilhem as we were pulled and pushed. Finally we emerged onto the cobbled streets that ran between the houses of Hunedoara. At last we stood before the great door of Corvin Castle, trembling as the sun went down and the wind picked up.

  A man emerged, looking irritated. “What’s all this?” he demanded, white whiskers twitching.

  Two witches!” shouted the man who gripped Elena’s arms tightly. “Get Gyorgy!”

  “He’s just lost his wife. He’ll see no one.”

  “György Stolcz will want to see these two. This is his wife’s murderess and her daughter. They’ve brought a plague down upon us all.”

  The old man’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. He left the door open as he disappeared inside the castle and returned after a time with another man.

  “What evidence have you against them?” György Stolcz asked.

  We were pushed forward up the stairs. Beyond György, the fire glowed in the large hearth and I wished I could curl up next to it. My dress was still wet from earlier and the air was chill.

  “The word of your own daughter,” said another one of the villagers.

  “This is a misunderstanding. Alexandra is upset,” Elena said, her voice calm, despite the madness around her. “She asked me to save her mother but I could not. I am no witch. I brought herbs to ease your wife’s discomfort, but she had already passed when I arrived.”

  “Alexandra!” the man cried out. “Come here, my girl. You bear witness? You’ve seen them practicing their dark rites with your own eyes?”

  “Lies!” A man shouted from behind us. “My wife is maddened with grief! She knows not what she says!”

  “Silence, Vilhem.” György Stolcz commanded. He stepped forward, glancing down at the woven sack one of the men clutched in his hands. “What have you there?”

  “It belongs to the witch. We found it in her home.”

  Elena lifted her chin, meeting György’s gaze. “Herbs,” she said softly, “for brewing in tea.”

  “She lies,” Alexandra said. “It was a potion to cure Mother but she deliberately waited until it was too late to help her. A witch’s brew lies in that sack, Father. Nothing less, I vow.”

  “It is no potion or brew,” Elena told him. “Simply medicinal tea, I tell you.”

  “Are you a physician, wench?” György Stolcz demanded.

  “You know I am not.”

  “Give me the sack.”

  The sack was handed over and György Stolcz opened it. He pulled out a glittering sapphire and candles carved with magical symbols. When he looked up again, his eyes had gone cold. “Put them in the torture chamber. We try them on the morrow.”

  “No!” Elena cried. “You mustn’t do this! We’ve done nothing wrong. Please, I beg of you—”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  For The Birds

  Budapest, Hungary 2031

  Alana woke up the next morning in a tangle of sheets. The question running around in her head had kept her awake all night. Just how were they planning to get her mother back? During their long and very emotionally draining conversation last night, she’d somehow forgotten to ask.

  She swung her legs over the bed and looked out the window. Squinting, she brought her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare of the morning sun.

  Coffee … coffee would be good.

  Something creaked outside her room and she wondered if she was the last to get up. She stretched, and threw on a long grey cardigan over the black shirt and tights she’d worn to bed, then she swept her red locks up into a ponytail and headed for the main sitting room/kitchen area.

  The sound of the tub jets and the smell of the spicy-floral salts clued her in to Leslie’s location. She knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Leslie.”

  She thought she heard a muffled yes, but couldn’t be sure. Then she heard scattered movement in the water. “Good morning. I suppose you’d like in here.” Leslie cracked the door open and stood, dripping, with a towel pressed against her chest.

  Alana shrugged her shoulders. “I can wait, or maybe I’ll just head downstairs to breakfast. There’s got to be a bathroom in the lobby.”

  “Wait. I’ll come with you,” Leslie said.

  “No thanks.”

  She realized she sounded short but she couldn’t help it. She was still angry that they had kept so much from her.

  “Like that, is it?” Leslie asked. “All right, let me have it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Come on. I’m a big girl. I can handle your wrath,” Leslie prodded.

  Alana felt her face getting flushed.

  “Why didn’t either of ye tell me the truth? How could ye keep me in the dark for so long?”

  “I wanted to tell you. Your Da didn’t want to get your hopes up in case we were wrong.”

  Alana paused, mulling that over.

  “I thought ye were havin’ a blasted affair. Did neither of ye consider how it would look to me? Like the two of you tossed Mum’s memory aside not even a month after she died.”

  “We did. Or at least I did. I mentioned that repeatedly, but your father didn’t get it. He never looked at me that way. He loved—loves— your mother with all his heart and I guess he assumed you would see that, that you would simply believe I was there to look after you.”

  Alana’s stomach churned with guilt. That did make sense.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Pastry delivery,” Cullen called out.

  Alana opened the hotel room door for her father.

  “I come bearin’ gifts from the bakery down the street.” He set the tray of coffee and the box of sugary-smelling goodness down on the counter. “Watch Leslie scramble,” he laughed and whispered to Alana.

  Leslie closed the bathroom door and then opened it not five seconds later wrapped in a furry white robe with a yellow towel on her head and headed straight for the counter. “Those smell divine. What do we have?”

  He pointed to a chocolate sponge cake coated with crunchy caramel. “That one is the dobos torta, and then there are several krémes and rétes. This one’s especially for ye, a muirnhan—a peace offering,” Cullen said, handing her the only cherry strudel. “It was the last one and their best seller.”

  “Save me a bite,” Leslie said, her eyes widening.

  Alana gave a spiteful grin. “Yeah, I will.” Then she closed her eyes and bit into the decadent pastry, focusing every fiber of her being on the sweet, smooth taste of the cherries and cottage cheese. Leslie, who was now on her second caramel pastry stated, “They’re not cupcakes, but they’re not bad.”

  Tap Tap.

  Alana turned to see Cullen with his hand pressed against the window.

  “What are you doing?” Leslie said, or at least that’s what it sounded like she said. Her mouth was full.

  “There was a bird tappin’ at the glass. I guess I scared it off.”

  Alana moved back to the couch and cleared her throat. “So, can we talk now about how we’re to steal Mum back?”

  “We can if we make it quick. I’m to meet The Professor in forty minutes.”

  “Ye’re worried about gettin’ fluter'ed with an old pal right now?”

  “The cheek of ya—The Professor teaches history. He’s is an expert on Bran Castle especially during the 1400s.”

  “And why do we want to know about Bran Castle?”


  “Remember the picture we showed ye last night?”

  Alana nodded finally getting it. “That’s why we’re attending the costume ball.”

  “Yes. We’re going to use one of the spells from the Book of Rochus,” Leslie said, “Your father is going to show his friend at the University the picture so we can verify that it’s Bran Castle and also he’s going to try to get an idea of where they might be holding her.”

  “So we’re going to try to locate her in the castle and then pull her back to us with some sort of spell? Brilliant.”

  “Not exactly,” Leslie corrected. “Your father is going to travel into the past to find her.”

  “Da is going to time travel?” Alana would have laughed if they hadn’t both looked so serious. “Jayzuz, isn’t there a spell that just reverses time travel or can pull her back somehow?”

  “Unfortunately, there isn’t. I’ve read the book back to front and we’ve researched almost all we can. I’m going to perform the spell on the night of the blood moon in Bran Castle. If that is where Sophia is, we figured it would be best to attempt the time travel into 1494 right there in the Castle. If it fails then we’ll try again on Samhain.”

  “How will you get home after you find her?” Alana watched Leslie look up at Da, her face was troubled.

  Da stepped forward, trading places with Leslie. He lowered his head.

  “We don’t know for sure yet how but I will. Your mum and I might have for Yule or perhaps another blood moon, but we will make it back.”

  Tears filled Alana’s eyes and Cullen pulled her close. “Ye understand why I must try, don’t ye Lana? I’ll never forgive myself if I do nothing.”

  “So ye’ll leave me, too, then. I’ll be a bloody orphan.”

  “Oh, Lana, I love ye, a muirnhan, and I can hardly bear the thought of leavin’ ye, but what life are we to lead knowin’ Mum’s there? Trapped in another time...”

  “What if ye’re trapped, too?”

  “Then at least yer mum won’t be alone and ye’ll have Leslie and yer Grand-da and the comfort in knowing yer auld wans are together.”

  “How am I to know that?”

  “I’ll find a way. Leslie’s a bloody genius and she’ll figure it out.”

  Alana looked up, tilting her head as if a lightbulb had exploded. She met Cullen’s fiery-green gaze straight on.

  “Where’s the spell? I want to see it.”

  “What? Why?” Cullen asked.

  Leslie stood up and disappeared for a moment, returning with the book. She flipped it open and held it out to Alana. The room was quiet while Alana looked it over.

  Finally she looked up at them. “I’ll perform the spell,” she said.

  “No bloody way!” Cullen said.

  “I practiced magic with Móraí for three months and I’m positive the only reason it didn’t work that night was because they drugged me and it made me dizzy. I couldn’t read the words properly. ”

  “Go away outta that!”

  “I’m serious. Mum wrote in the letter that I was powerful—ye saw it—ye know ye did. That’s why that lady wanted me. I can send ye back safely. I know I can . . . I’ve been dreaming about it.” Her voice caught slightly at that; her mother and the book, all of her dreams suddenly made sense. Her mother had told her she was as powerful, if not more powerful than she. She waited, breathless, feeling confident and nerve-wracked at the same time. She didn’t want to lose Da too but she knew if he was brave enough to go then she would be brave enough to help.

  She watched as Da considered her proposition, fingers clenching and releasing as he mulled it over. His gaze moved to Leslie and lingered there for a moment, then returned to Alana’s face after smiled.

  “If and only if, Leslie swears it’s safe for ye to help.

  Victory. Alana wanted to jump up and down and hug her father, but she held it in. For the moment he still looked serious.

  “I mean it lass, ye’ll be mindful. I’ll accept the risk to myself, but I’ll be damned if I can bear anythin’ happenin’ to ye.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Cage Against the Machine

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  I heard the words before I grasped just how dire our situation had become. “György Stolcz shall have my confession when my daughter goes free.”

  I’d been here before, curled into this crumbling pocket of a wall, imprisoned behind these iron bars—feeling the cold creep into my bones. I waited until I heard the footsteps retreat.

  “Elena,” I whispered. “Are you there? We need to talk.”

  “Say nothing, girl. The walls have ears.”

  “It doesn’t matter; I already know what will happen. They’ll come for us at dawn and we’ll hang. Now is our chance.”

  “What did you have in mind, changeling?”

  What did I have in mind? I had no plan.

  “Sophia,” a gentle and familiar voice whispered.

  “Costin,” Elena said in surprise. “Is that you, boy? What are you doing down here? Your mother will have your hide.”

  “I don’t care what my mother does,” Costin responded coldly.

  He walked forward and squeezed my hand. “I’ll die with you if I must.”

  “I’d prefer if no one died.” I said quickly. “Can you help us out of here?”

  He pulled a key from his pocket and allowed it to sway back and forth twice before unlocking my cage and assisting me in climbing out.

  A shout sounded from the stairs above.

  Costin quickened his movements, dragging me to the cell that held Elena. He attempted to put the key in the lock, but his hand was shaking. Sweat rolled down his forehead and his eye ticked ferociously.

  “Costin, what’s going on?” I asked.

  “The key won’t work. It must be a different one.” He scrambled, trying the other two on the ring.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Fancy the Wolf at the Door

  Budapest, Hungary, 2031

  Alana refused to twiddle her thumbs at the hotel while Da trotted off to meet with the Castle expert. If mum was alive and possibly a prisoner, she needed to tag along to eavesdrop and maybe even do some research of her own.

  Eager to catch up with him before he left, she pulled on her boots and knocked on the bathroom door, where Leslie had retreated to.

  “Leslie, I’m off to join Da.”

  “What about shopping?” Leslie called back, “The Dracula Festival starts this afternoon. The front desk clerk said that the town has a bunch of costume shops.”

  “Costume shops?”

  “We’ll need to figure out something to wear to the Blood Moon Ball.”

  Bloody hell. Alana thought. She’d forgotten about that part. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  The driver dropped Alana off fifteen minutes later. It wasn’t until she found her way to the great room of the high, vaulted library and sat for ten minutes that she realized this was the right place. It turned out that this was the Metropolitan Szabó Ervin Library, not the University of Budapest library. Her cab driver had obviously misunderstood her. Patches of sunlight streamed in through stained-glass windows, piercing the hall in a pretty rainbow of colors. She’d never find him in time now, might as well take advantage of this beautiful library, she thought.

  Her Hungarian was limited to tourist phrases but the librarian located a small collection in English on the local history of Bran Castle.

  She flipped through a couple of pages and then pulled her mum’s spell book from her bag, laying it flat on the table. It radiated a forbidden mystery. Stealing it from the hotel room had made her nervous, but it was necessary if she were going to get answers.

  She would read every page if she must. She would learn. And then she’d go back in time with her Da, whether he liked it or not, to help rescue her mother.

  The piece of note paper her mother had scribbled on after her regression fell out of the book as she flipped the page.

  The reddi
sh wolf.

  Time seemed to have stopped, despite the activity around her. That name, the reddish wolf, was so familiar. She was sure she’d seen it before.

  A woman appeared as if out of nowhere. She wore a long blue skirt and a white peasant top with embroidered flowers. The outfit looked handmade and Alana wondered if she was a tourist or a native local that dressed like this all the time.

  The woman followed Alana’s gaze. “Bună dimineața.”

  Alana had heard this a few times before and knew it meant good morning, but that was pretty much where her knowledge ended.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t speak Romanian.”

  “They sell them at the market,” the woman said, switching to accented English. “You know…the Bazarre.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My skirt. You were looking at it, weren’t you? I thought that maybe you liked it.”

  “I was. I do like it.” Alana nodded and returned her gaze to the book, feeling right scarlet at having been caught staring.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” The woman said, taking a seat at Alana’s table.

  Alana looked up sharply and glanced about the room, noting that there were several other empty tables.

  The woman stood but didn’t leave. “You have quite a few books on Bran Castle. I’m also doing research on the area.”

  “I’m hogging them, aren’t I? I apologize,” Alana said softly. “Please take a seat and we can share.”

  The woman settled herself and Alana returned to her thoughts. She pulled a blank hotel notepad and pen from her bag and wrote the name Elena. Beside it, she wrote The Reddish Wolf, and highlighted it. She was so busy turning the name over in her memory that she didn’t realize she’d pulled Mum’s ring from under her shirt. The woman interrupted her once again as she was mindlessly stroking it, to comment on how pretty it was. Alana quickly tucked the chain and ring back away. Da would go mental if he knew she had it. Morei had given it to her at the séance to wear and she’d hidden it away after—mum’s original engagement ring. Her parents had locked it away and now she knew why, it held a piece of the Purple Delhi Sapphire, but still she was hurting anyone if she wore it and it couldn’t do anything to her. Of course, Da wouldn’t see it that way. If Da found it then he’d lock it back up. She’d have to be careful not to play with it again.