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  Cullen gave a sigh and walked back to the desk. “I owe ye, my friend, this is all very last minute.” He held out his hand. “Our train leaves for Brasov tomorrow mornin’. Any information that ye could give me before then would be most appreciated.”

  The Professor smiled, affectionately, but sadly. “I’ll get to work and see what I can find.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Rattled & Tattled

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  Sarah scurried out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

  “Sit,” Costin urged. “You must be cold and tired. That torture chamber is an abomination.”

  “Yes, it is,” I agreed.

  He strode to the bed, and pulled the scarlet blanket from it, leaving the animal skin that had adorned it to fall to the floor.

  As he placed the blanket around my shoulders, his hands lingered and I was reminded of the way he’d kissed me yesterday.

  “How did you know?” I stuttered, suddenly realizing this wasn’t what was supposed to happen at all.

  “How did I know what?”

  “That Elena and I had been taken? You weren’t supposed to show up until dawn.”

  He squinted his eyes in confusion, and I realized I was the only one this had happened to before. I was changing history once again.

  “I knew something was wrong when you ran from me at the river, so I followed you home and I saw the guards arrest you. I had to wait to make my move.”

  He took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. His eyes were shining, his manner more animated and vital and yet more relaxed than I had seen before.

  “You like the tower,” I observed.

  “You know I do,” he said in puzzlement. “It’s our own private retreat. Sarah keeps it clean for us. You must have missed coming up here. Things have been so tense lately,” he explained. “I’d take you to the lookout but that wouldn’t do much to warm you.”

  I kept silent, not wanting to tip him off that I had no recollection of this special place he spoke of.

  Suddenly the girl, Sarah, was back and she was panting. “Someone saw you heading upwards. They’re checking the level below right now.”

  From the shadows behind her emerged a boy about two years older than she. He turned and ran out the doorway before we could stop him. His voice bouncing off the walls, “Guards. I’ve found them.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Hungary for Halloween

  Budapest, Hungary, October, 2031

  The smell of the sweet and salty—candied apples, sugar-spun cotton candy, and popcorn—filled the air. Cullen knew he should get back to the hotel—the girls would be worried and hungry by now—but he felt deflated. What if they were wrong about Bran Castle? What if they were wrong about everything? Maybe it was time he faced the fact that the girl in the picture was just some sort of ancestor and Sophia was really dead after all. Pain stabbed at his chest and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from escaping.

  No, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. He was not ready to give up yet.

  He enjoyed being outside in the crisp autumn air, watching the children point and laugh and eat and run while images of witches, vampires, and werewolves filled the window displays. Halloween wasn’t for another three weeks but apparently the town was hosting some sort of street fair in honor of the phenomena of the four blood moons. It had been seventeen years since the last one and the shops were overflowing with kids in search of last minute costumes. But Cullen didn’t care anything about the tourists or the costumes. The blood moon meant he was going to find Sophia.

  He saw a bookstore that reminded him of Mysterious Adventures in Ink and, before he knew it, he’d walked inside, glanced about as if the woman of his dreams were there. Several employees wearing black aprons bustled about the cash register and shelves helping one person after another, but sadly none of them were Sophia. Which of course was logical, she wasn’t here or there; she was 400 years in the past.

  He walked to the counter and ordered a large black tea, watching as people streamed in and out, and that was when he saw Sandra Brun—dark hair, pale skin and wearing the same red coat that she’d worn to dinner at their house.

  He moved closer, trying to get a better angle.

  The woman flipped through some books on casting spells. She twisted and turned her face away as if she knew he were there watching her. She kept glancing up, as if she were looking for someone else. He followed her gaze to the next aisle.

  “Cullen, is that you?” A familiar voice rang out.

  He spotted Leslie and Alana coming towards him from the exact aisle he’d just been staring into. He turned back to the woman in red but she was gone.

  “Earth to Da...” Alana said.

  He shook his head, coming out of his daze. “Hey! What are ye girls doin’ here? Surely ye haven’t need for yet another book?”

  “No, but we do need costumes, remember? The Blood moon Ball is a costume party,” Leslie reminded him and walked away.

  Alana flitted off after her, bursting into a fit of giggles at the fake chest plate Leslie had just put on.

  Cullen turned back to the salesgirl.

  “Where is the ball being held?” The salesgirl asked.

  “Dracula’s Castle,”

  The girl laughed. “Which one?”

  “What do ye mean, ‘which one?’ Isn’t Bran known as Dracula’s?”

  “Yes, but Dracula was said to have had a few different homes.”

  At that moment a twenty-something male stopped in front of them and held his black cape over his face in exaggerated form for his friends who laughed and clapped their hands. From his tuxedo shirt to the red streaks dripping from his lips, there was no mistaking his costume.

  “That looks good. You should go as Dracula, too,” the salesgirl suggested to Cullen.

  “I will yeah,” Cullen replied in an agitated voice. “Where was Dracula’s other home?”

  Another customer walked by in a nun costume, looked at the vampire and shook her prayer beads. The salesgirl laughed and picked up a pamphlet from the counter, handing it to Cullen. “Vlad the Impaler was held prisoner by Hungary's military leader for 7 years in Hunedoara Castle.”

  “I think ye gave me the wrong pamphlet. This is for Corvin Castle,” Cullen said, attempting to hand it back to her.

  She shooed it back in his direction.

  “One and the same—that’s the name of one of the families that owned it. The castle resides in the town of Hunedoara and was originally named after the family that built it.”

  The girls came back into sight and Leslie flashed a pair of fake fangs. “What do you think—a hot new seller for the Mysterious InkSpot?”

  “I think ye’re losing yer sanity,” Cullen mumbled, folding the pamphlet and shoving it into his pocket.

  “I think she lost that years ago,” Alana said with a grin. “Besides, ye’re more the witchy type,” She said, grabbing a hat from the table and placing it on Leslie’s head. Come on, Da. Ye have to pick out a costume—at least somethin’ small, so ye blend in.”

  “I’m a little long in the tooth for dressin’ up.”

  “No pun intended, huh? Suit yourself, but you’re going to look a little silly at a costume ball without a costume,” Leslie added.

  Cullen frowned.

  She was right, but something felt off. He grabbed the hat off Leslie’s head. “Let’s go, we have important things to discuss.”

  “Relax, Cullen. We were just having fun.”

  “We can have fun when Sophia is home safe and sound,” He said and stomped out of the store ahead of them.

  From across the street Cullen grunted in frustration. Unhappy with his outburst, he could see Leslie and Alana emerging from the store. Alana’s arms were crossed over her chest while Leslie escorted her with an arm around her shoulders. Both of their faces were grim.

  He sure knew how to piss them off.

  Leslie’s fingers tapped in an agitate
d motion against her thigh as she stopped in front of him.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” Cullen said as they finally reached him. “I can be such a dope.”

  “Yeah, you can,” Leslie said and gave him a compassionate look. “Is something the matter?”

  “Aye. Something was the matter all right. I thought I saw that cow—Sandra Brun—in the store right before ye called my name. When I turned back, she was gone.”

  “You really think it was her?” Leslie asked, glancing up and down the street.

  “No. That’s a ridiculous notion. I’m sure my imagination is just workin’ overtime but it’s disturbin’ none the less. I’ll be glad to get this all over with.”

  “Amen,” Leslie agreed. “How was your meeting?”

  “Let’s talk about it at dinner. I made reservations at The Crow on Paulay Ede Street,” Cullen said.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Hide and Sneak

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  “My foolish brother!” Sarah mumbled. “The guards are now in the east wing.”

  “We’ll have to get to the other passage,” Costin said, “You’ll need to start screaming, too, but tell them we went back down. Show them the passage behind the tapestry.”

  The girl squeezed my hand and gave a short, sharp nod to show that she understood.

  Costin grabbed a candle and we fled her room in the same direction the boy had gone, down a set of stairs and into a passage where there were no windows—the candle was burning low and the passage was dark and chill. My right hand trembled, while the left was wrapped around Costin’s arm.

  Suddenly, a malignant draught gusted, blowing out the candle and plunging the passage into darkness. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs and I could scarcely breathe in the stifling darkness. What had seemed chilly a moment before was now airless and dank, a suffocating blanket of blackness.

  Without thinking I began to pray aloud. I had just formed the words “please God” for the fourth time when Costin squeezed my hand to signal for silence. He pushed open what I could now see was a stout oak door and I almost tripped over my own feet to get inside.

  The hall we entered was large, the stone walls draped with moth-eaten tapestries. There was little furniture, but the expanses of wall that had been spared the tapestries were bristling with weapons-swords and fierce medieval battle axes.

  When we reached the landing, we heard a woman’s voice. “Costin Vilhem Ioan Cuza, you are a fool!”

  I recognized the woman as Alexandra. I narrowed my eyes and tilted my chin upward in as fierce a manner as I could muster.

  To my surprise, the woman wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “This way, quickly, before you are both hanged.” Her voice was reedy and thin, and I noted she was well-wrapped against the chill. As I allowed her to guide me down a hall and out a door, I saw the resemblance to Sandra Brun in the bones of her face. But where Sandra Brun’s beauty had grown, this woman’s was fading. Her hair and skin lacked luster, more like the way Sandra had looked the first time I’d met her.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Spoonful of Lies

  Budapest, Hungary, October, 2031

  It was a quiet ride across the monolithic Széchenyi Lánchid Bridge. Cullen stared out the window, taking in everything from the flanking lion statues and triumphant arches to the lights that reflected off the Danube River, flooding the whole scene in a beautiful soft gold. There was something bothering him that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He was itching to hear back from the Professor but it was too soon. The Professor was good but they were practically searching for a miracle.

  “The Blind Crow, eh? You couldn’t have found a more appetizing sounding restaurant to treat us too?”

  “Actually it’s called VakVarju,” the taxi driver cut in. “It’s named for an old nursery rhyme and it’s very good.”

  Leslie gave the driver a chastened smile and then looked over at Cullen. She’d been attempting to catch his eye for the last two minutes. She was about to ask him about the Professor’s visit, he just knew it. He shook his head as subtly as possible and motioned toward Alana before she could utter a word. He wasn’t ready to dash Alana’s hopes. Luckily Leslie caught the hint and snapped her lips shut.

  It wasn’t long before they were seated in the balcony of a high-ceilinged, quirky bistro, enjoying the open view, live piano music and listening to the waiter as he rhymed off the specials.

  “How about a local beer and whatever constitutes a good traditional Hungarian meal?” Leslie suggested.

  “Of course.” The waiter nodded.

  Alana piped up. “I get beer now too, do I?”

  “The young lass here will take a soda.” Cullen winked “And be sure to keep the food comin’, this one over here is starvin’,” he said, pointing to Leslie who sat to his left. She graciously smiled. Most people underestimated her size.

  Apparently this Hungarian man was the one person who didn’t; when he returned to the table, he brought with him a smorgasbord.

  They made small talk about the festival and Hungarian culture while they feasted on stuffed pork and chicken baked in bread.

  Alana stood after finishing off the stuffed potato pancake. “Please, Lord, somebody point me in the direction of the loo before I burst.”

  “It’s just around the corner and down the hall,” Cullen said, pointing.

  Leslie, who was still working on the stewed beef and noodles, paused long enough to look up and see the waiter approaching with a tray of desserts—cheesecake with an apricot sauce and meringue, and a white chocolate blondie with a lemony ice cream—her eyes lit up.

  Cullen took the photo of Sophia in front of the Castle from his pocket and began to fixate.

  Leslie looked over her shoulder. “All right, the coast is clear. What happen with the Professor?”

  “He doesn’t think its Bran Castle in the background,” Cullen burst out. “I’m beginnin’ to agree.”

  Leslie took her napkin from her lap and wiped a noodle from her chin.

  “Let me see.”

  Cullen reluctantly handed her the photo.

  “Well, that’s not so bad, so we just need to figure out which Castle it is and then we’ve found her.”

  “How? Our train leaves tomorrow and the library is closed for the night.”

  “The internet is never closed,” Leslie, the eternal optimist, said with a grin.

  God bless her, Cullen thought, she would never give up.

  “Ye’re right, we just need to re-focus and dig deeper.”

  The waiter returned with a canister and stared down at Leslie, his mouth slightly agape as she began sopping up the ice cream with the blondie. “More eszpresszó?”

  “No, I think I’ll spring a leak if I drink anymore,” Cullen said with a chuckle.

  Leslie waited for the server to walk away. “Why did we think it was Bran, anyway?”

  “That notepad Sophia wrote on after her regression. Wait a minute,” Cullen said, pulling the brochure from his other pocket. “At the store today—that girl said there was a castle in Hunedoara that was also known as Dracula’s Castle. She gave me this brochure.” He quickly unfolded the paper and handed it to Leslie. “Just look at that staircase. This is definitely the place.”

  Leslie nodded, grinning ear to ear.

  “We found her. Now to find a way in. I don’t suppose there’s a event there tomorrow night?”

  Leslie used her cellphone and pulled up the website. “Nope.”

  “I’ll go outside and call the Professor, give him the good news. I don’t want him wastin’ his time lookin’ into Bran.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Into the Woods

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  Alexandra passed me into the arms of an older servant who placed a cloak about me. The lady was not precisely plump, but there was solidity about her and I dared not fight back. Costin inclined his head as if to ask his mother what she was up to.

  “Fl
ora will hide Sophia in the village until I can explain the situation to your grandfather.”

  If Costin distrusted his mother as much as I did, then he betrayed no sign of it. He merely reached forward and kissed my cheek.

  “Goodnight,” he murmured. “I’ll be there to get you in the morning.”

  The old woman said nothing, but gave Alexandra a curious glance and I felt once again that neither woman could be trusted. Flora blew out her candle and led me onto a horse.

  At last we rode the length of the village and came to an old-fashioned house, with a steeply pitched roof dotted with gables. The moon was bright and I could see that ivy climbed the walls and smoke rose from the stone chimney. We tied the horse and she led me up the little stone path to the door.

  “This is the house of my cousin; you will stay here for now,” the woman informed me.

  The room was comfortable; layers of hand-woven blankets and embroidered linen hung from the ceiling on wooden poles, smelling of woodsmoke. Next to a ceramic stove, there was a dining table where sacred icons were draped with white scarves.

  She led the way to a small bedroom, and before I could ask any questions, she’d gone, leaving me to unravel my situation here. The bed was heaped with blankets and cushions and softened by a silver glow from the moon falling through the casement, sometimes shining brightly through the broken storm clouds. Not for the first time, I thought of Elena in the castle. They would come for her at dawn. What was I doing? I had to free her, but how. I jumped to my feet, trying and failing to remember the route back to the castle.

  Then I heard a chorus of wolves, first a plaintive cry and then a response from far away.

  Chapter Fifty –Seven