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  Drop Dead Dreams

  Budapest, Hungary, October, 2031

  Cullen looked out the window of the Baltazar Hotel room at the heavy night sky; he could practically smell the storm dropping from the east. The dark clouds matched his somber mood and he welcomed the rain although he was glad it had held off until they returned. They’d taken a cab to the edge of the Castle district and walked back from dinner. It had been nice, so many beautiful sights to see in Budapest especially the Parliament buildings and the Castle, which were all lit up at night.

  A knock sounded at the door. He threw his t-shirt back on and opened it to find Leslie pacing to and fro.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. Did ye change your mind about the arrangements?”

  “No. I told you I’m comfortable on the pull-out. It’s just I’ve been waiting for Alana to go to her room. I want to know what the Professor said.”

  “He agreed. It’s Hunedoara Castle.”

  Leslie smiled. “So what are we doing?”

  “Haven’t a baldy.”

  “A little breaking and entering?” Leslie asked with a smirk.

  “Jaysus, I hope not,” Cullen said, although he wasn’t ruling it out. “The Professor says he knows of a way in. His friend is part of a television crew that’s taping at the castle this week—something to do with ghost sightings. Anyway, he thinks they wrapped today but he might be able to get us inside. He’s going to ring me back.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us? What’s with the suspense?”

  “I don’t want to change the plans and upset Alana until I know for sure. She’s been happy this week—happier than I’ve seen her since it all happened.”

  “Fair enough,” Leslie agreed. “Please don’t keep me in the dark, though, okay?”

  Cullen nodded and Leslie backed out of the room.

  He clicked off the television remote and allowed his head to fall against the soft down pillow.

  He’d never had trouble falling asleep until Sophia had gone missing. Now every night was a struggle unless he knocked himself out with sleeping pills and whisky and he couldn’t afford to do that tonight. He rolled onto his left shoulder, closing his eyes against reality. He breathed deeply to bring about sleep and realized part of the problem tonight was that the pillows smelled of lavender, one of Sophia’s favorite scents to place in the bedroom. He inhaled deeply and pretended she was next to him and, before he knew it, he was really staring into her slanted baby blues—only they were on the face of a girl and she had a rope around her neck, her eyes unnaturally wide with fear.

  He realized by the cold dampness seeping through the knees of his pants that he was dreaming or re-living an awful memory.

  He knelt before the gallows. That was where he’d fallen when they kicked the stool out from under Elena’s feet. He remained there still, kneeling on the stone of the town square, as if a part of his own soul had just been brutally murdered. Next it was Sofia’s turn. A violent, desperate need to save her once again came over him but he’d tried and failed.

  He got to his feet, and staggering forward, he snatched the bejeweled blade from his belt. Ignoring the outcry, he moved closer to the gallows, preparing to gather her precious limp body into his arms.

  Cullen woke up, drenched in sweat and tangled up in the hotels expensive bedsheets to a vibrating sound on his night table. His relief was immediate. Not real. He reached over and hit the switch.

  The bedside lamp illuminated the brick wall and funky artwork that adorned the room.

  He lifted his arm to check his watch. There was still time.

  He hadn't lost the love of his life but he knew, somehow, though it made no sense, that if he waited until tomorrow night then he would.

  Cullen looked at the missed call and hit send.

  “Professor,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Sorry to call so late, my friend. I have a few things to tell you. I found the name you gave me. Elena Maria Catargiu-Obrenović. What I found out wasn’t good news. Brace yourself.”

  “She was hanged,” Cullen said.

  “Yes, I know that.”

  “It’s not important. Do ye know when?”

  “That’s the bad news. She was hanged alongside her daughter the day of the blood moon.

  Cullen’s stomach twisted. He dropped his phone. They were running out of time.

  “Cullen, are you there?” He heard a faint voice coming from the floor. He retrieved the phone.

  “I’m here.”

  “You need to change your plans for tomorrow. Catch the 8 am train to Deva. My friend is going to meet you at the train station at 4 pm and sneak you into the Castle. I know you wanted to bring the girls but he thinks it would be easier if it were just one or two of you.”

  “That’s fine. It will just be me.”

  “Good. The crew is done with the taping now, they will leave anywhere between 5 pm and 8 pm so you’re going to have to hide out in the castle until they’re gone. He’ll show you the best room upstairs for that. He also wanted me to warn you that you will be in there overnight no matter what because there’s no way to get out. He’ll return the next day to sneak you and fingers crossed Sophia, back out.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  In a Cherry Jam

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  Romania had a reputation for wolves. I would be easy picking out there. I covered up my ears with my hands, and prayed that while I had somehow changed my fate, perhaps I had changed Elena’s as well.

  By the time the grey light of dawn began to lighten the chamber, I was numb with fatigue. Even the rooster crowing couldn’t stop my surrender to sleep. Sometime later, there was a sharp rapping and an old woman appeared in my doorway, carrying a tray.

  “The boy, Costin, where is he?” I asked sleepily.

  The old woman frowned and clucked her tongue as she removed the covers from my breakfast.

  There was a bowl of porridge, a bread roll, scarlet cherry jam and a pot of thick dark liquid which I hoped was something akin to coffee, although I wasn’t sure if it was popular here yet.

  I sat up in bed, knees drawn to my chest, arms hugged tightly about them. I thought of the dream I’d had, reliving each moment I’d just spent embracing my daughter, explaining the book to her. Why had I not been more open with her over the years? Me and my secrets, they were always getting me into trouble. If only it hadn’t been a dream.

  The woman watched for a moment as I spooned the porridge into my mouth and then she smiled strangely and turned to go. It then crossed my mind that she might have poisoned my food. I begrudgingly pushed the bowl away.

  The sound of clanking drew my attention to the chickens that pecked in the dust just beneath my window. A dozen cows were shuffling through the field, their bells a discordant jangle. Off in the distance, a long, horse-drawn wooden cart carrying a huge load of golden grasses made a pass through the field. Fresh air would improve my mood. I headed for the kitchen, intending to depart whether the woman of the house liked it or not. As I approached, I heard voices through the door, Costin’s deep mumble and the higher pitch of Alexandra. The tones were impassioned and unmistakable, his pleading, hers implacable. I cleared my throat and Alexandra looked up sharply. Costin was standing at the fireplace, his hands braced upon the mantel, his head bowed. One of his hands was bleeding as if he’d been in a fight.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Caught in the Dark

  Budapest, Hungary, October, 2031

  “Cullen?” Leslie whispered, sounding nearly as startled as he felt. He could just make out her silhouette in the dark. She was sitting up on the pullout sofa. He’d done his best to be quiet but he hadn’t accounted for the bag in the middle of the floor. She’d probably set the booby-trap on purpose, she was a clever fox. He’d tried to talk her into taking the bedroom so he could make a clean getaway but she must have been on to him.

  “It’s one in the morning. What are you doing?” Leslie hissed.
<
br />   Instantly he was by her side. “Whisht!”

  Cullen whipped his head back and forth to see if Alana had woken, but the room remained silent and dark.

  He lowered his voice and leaned in.

  “I’ve had a change of mind,” he said and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He took a second to carefully study the tattered photo that had been cocooned inside, a treasured memento of the beautiful ghost that haunted his memory. Was Sophia really alive and would he hold her in the flesh soon enough? What if he was too late? What if that dream signified she’d already been hanged? Lord help him if he had to live through that twice. The nervous anticipation was almost more than he could bear.

  “I can’t allow Alana to get involved. She’s as stubborn as her own mother—she’ll never accept that she can’t come.” He stopped to bring his voice under control, contemplating whether or not to tell Leslie about the dream, and then he held out the paper to her. “I wrote a farewell letter, ye know, just in case. Will ye pass it on to her?”

  Leslie nodded and accepted it. “As stubborn as her mother, huh?” she said. “When will you go?”

  “Now,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve already arranged a car. Ye take the train with her. Tell her I got called away early—a meeting in Bucharest.” His hands clenched into tight fists. He stood and paced the length of the room. The room’s electric fireplace kicked on, drawing his gaze, and he found himself going still, staring into the flames, imagining Elena falling, the entire weight of her body hurtling toward the ground and then stopping short at the end of that rope. The way she’d jerked at the bottom. The way her head snapped. And then the way her body had swung from the Gallows. What if Elena was Alana? He couldn’t risk her too.

  “If I—” He furrowed his brow, then looked at Leslie beseechingly. “If I don’t make it back,” he said, “my will is in the safe. I’ve left it all to Alana and ye’re the executor.”

  “Please don’t be melodramatic. You will find Sophia and she will bring you both home and hopefully Alana will never even know you left early. Sophia said that time froze when she traveled the first couple of times. It may be the same for you. Who knows how it all works?” She held out her hand and he took it. After a long time, he squeezed her fingers gently and let go.

  “Thank ye, Leslie,” he said, “for everything.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he rose and went out, pocketing the photo before heading into the darkness of the hall.

  Chapter Sixty

  Where Lies My Da

  Budapest, Hungary, Blood Moon, October 2031

  In the morning, Leslie rose somewhat lethargically, but she was determined to have her best poker face in place for when Alana got up. Whatever her own inclinations, Cullen was Alana’s father and if he didn’t want his daughter knowing the truth, then who was Leslie to ruin that?

  She reminded herself sternly that it would all be over soon and drew back the draperies, surprised to see the sun shone brightly through the windows of the hotel room. The treetops blazed with orange and gold and every shade of flame, and she wished she could push open a window and feel the breeze on her face.

  Instead she moved to her suitcase where she’d hidden the research she’d done while looking for Sophia. She pulled out the page that she’d photocopied from the Book of Rochus. There was just something about it that kept calling to her.

  My cauldron has been cleansed in rosewater and agrimony, and I’ve gathered all the ingredients; arrowroot, belladonna and a jar of powdered brimstone. Another jar holds sea salt, mixed with dried bat wings, and a tiny vial of hair. T’was my blood that brought this curse down upon my friends, and so it is my duty to save them, even if it means forfeiting my own power. It is time and yet I hesitate.

  This sort of witchcraft—toiling with another witch’s spell—is not a simple task. My dearest friend has been betrayed and now her soul is in peril. I will not let that stand. I will brew and cast and Alexandra will soon learn that no action exists in a void. She will pay the consequences.

  I have never used dark ingredients before. Magic was a gift, handed down to me through my ancestors and recorded in this book, but now it feels like a curse.

  She read the name at the bottom of the page. Lasaya. Something nagged at her conscience but she couldn’t decipher what.

  Just as she was considering waking sleeping beauty, the hotel door opened and in soared Alana, fancy coffee tray and pink pastry box in hand. Leslie tucked the page away and looked the girl over. Her red hair was braided and wound in a bun at the crown of her head and she was wearing a printed red, white and orange tunic with a heavy knitted sweater over top. She was smiling. Cullen was right; she looked much happier than she had in months.

  Leslie took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of sugary baked goodness. “You went out and got breakfast. You are such an angel.”

  Alana handed over the box.

  “I tried to get you one of those strudels that Da got me yesterday but they were sold out again already so I took a cab to this cupcake place instead.”

  “You found cupcakes!” Leslie clapped.

  “Yes and they’re healthy. They use coconut butter, whole wheat flour and they don’t add preservatives.”

  Leslie frowned but dove inside the box anyway. “Is that a Snickers?”

  She’d already peeled back the paper cup and taken a bite before Alana could respond. She moaned and leaned her head back, her long, dark hair reaching further down her spine. “So good. Doesn’t taste healthy at all, thank goodness.”

  Alana chuckled. “I think that’s one of the original recipes, so probably not healthy.”

  Leslie shrugged her shoulders. “You’re up early today and looking very local.”

  Alana spun and took a sip of her cappuccino. It had whip cream and chocolate drizzled on it. She normally left the sweet stuff to Leslie but today she seemed to be feeling spunky. “I had time to kill. I bought the dress from the shop downstairs. I figured I’d allow ye to sleep in. Ye were snoring pretty loud.”

  “I do not snore!” Leslie said, spilling her coffee as she set it down with a thud. “Oops.”

  “Ye don’t spill either, I bet.” Alana walked into her bedroom, giggling at her own joke and then returned to the living room with a packed suitcase in hand. “I can’t believe Da is still sleepin’. He never sleeps in. I brought him a coconut cream and we should probably leg it or we’ll miss our train.”

  Leslie turned away from Alana and began folding the messy items in her suitcase so that Alana wouldn’t read her face.

  “Actually, Cullen had to leave early this morning. There was a problem on a jobsite and he had to make a pit stop.”

  “What?” Alana questioned. For a moment neither of them spoke. “Why would he do that?”

  “I’m not sure, honey, but there’s no need to worry.”

  “It’s odd. Why would he go check a jobsite? We’re about to find my mum and he’s concerned with work.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “What do ye think I’m doing?” Alana replied punching numbers into the phone. “I’m ringin’ his mobile.”

  “Alana, for pity’s sake, your Da is stressed enough. He doesn’t need you calling and rubbing his nose in it—besides the job is on the way. He just caught an earlier train to Deva. He’ll meet us there.”

  “But his jobsite was in Germany. That’s why we flew there first and travelled by train here.”

  “Maybe he has two projects happening.” Leslie shoved a piece of the chocolate cupcake into her mouth and then held out the last bite. “Come here, you have to try this.”

  Leslie released a sigh of relief when Alana opened her mouth and allowed herself to be distracted by the sugar.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The Tricky Truth

  Seated comfortably on the train to Bucharest, Alana tried to doze off. Leslie had been out like a light pretty much since they sat down. The woman had a gift for eating and
sleeping.

  Alana reached into her bag and took out the tourist book she’d bought at the shop in Hungary. She flipped through the pages, heading for the section on Bran Castle but she was drawn to the page before. Corvin Castle. It was in Hunedoara, that was the place that weird lady from the library had mentioned. She read the first page, which talked about the legendary Dracula and how he had once been a prisoner in the famous torture chambers there.

  Alana was sure she’d watched a video before where a ghost hunting show had tried to spend the night at this castle. The images had made her nauseous. She was a good Irish lass and, as such, a touch superstitious. Her skin crawled when she thought of touring the lower areas of the Castle. She chided herself for being silly. The spooky tales of Corvin Castle were rubbish—so outlandish that they were hardly believable at all. Then again, she hadn’t believed in a lot of things, like time travel or reincarnation, until Leslie had told her about her mother’s adventures. The whole thing was so completely absurd but what was the alternative? Believing her mother was dead. What would it be like to visit another time? Her mother’s bedtime tales all seemed suspicious now. How many were first-hand accounts?

  Alana noticed Leslie’s nails—usually manicured and painted brightly—were now chipped and chewed short. Something was bothering her. Like, maybe why Da would go off to a jobsite right now, even one on the way? It didn’t make sense. Besides, he only ever worked on one castle at a time and his jobsite had been in Germany. Something definitely was not adding up.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Train Ticket to Nowhere

  Leslie woke and found herself wedged against Alana, head lolling on the shoulder of Alana’s sweater. Alana was staring out the window, tuned into the passing scenery of countryside, the letters from her mother stored neatly on her lap. Underneath them was a book open to Corvin Castle.