“Dmitriu?” The three exchanged baffled glances, leaving Elizabeth to sway with relief.
“Sorry,” she said. “It was a bad night. Er—who are you?”
“My name is Konrad,” the fair man said. “This is Mihaela, and István. May we come in?”
“I’m not dressed.”
“We’ll wait outside,” the girl, Mihaela, said.
Elizabeth, still half asleep and dizzy with relief at not having killed Dmitriu, shut the door on them and went into the bathroom for a quick shower.
As the cool water hit her, so did understanding.
By the time she’d pulled on her cotton skirt and top and was dragging the comb through her wet hair, she was sure she knew who her unexpected visitors were and why they were here.
It had taken her most of the drive back to Bistriƫa before she’d realized the Saloman thing had been a trick. But she’d gotten there in the end, with a weird mixture of relief, guilty shame, and cringing humiliation for having fallen for it and been so damned scared, not to mention turned on. Who’d have thought staid, frigid Elizabeth Silk would have been so aroused by the idea of the undead she’d been studying so clinically for two years? Even now, the memory made her squirm. Thank God no one at St. Andrews would ever know.
But these people, her morning visitors, must have had something to do with last night. They must have been part of the trick. She wasn’t quite sure what they’d done or how, but she knew it had gone too far. Probably they knew it too, which is why they were here.
She should have examined them with more care. One of them could be “Saloman.” Involuntarily, she touched her throat, where she’d imagined the vampire bit her. A spooky atmosphere was a wonderful thing. She’d been so sure he’d pierced her skin, drunk her blood, when all he’d done was gum her a little. There was no wound, no pain, just a residual sensitivity. Even she had suffered more bruising before from a love bite. The dried blood that had spattered her neck and her top clearly hadn’t come from there at all but from the annoying thorn wound in her palm, now healing at last—unless it was fake blood from the vampire trickery.
Oh well, she’d made a complete arse of herself and would have to live with it. Her one hope of retaining a smidgen of self-respect now was to accept their apology with dignity and good humor.
She threw down the comb and gazed doubtfully at her reflection in the mirror. She supposed she didn’t look much like a serious academic. Like most of her clothes—old, and picked up from charity shops in Scotland—this Gypsy print skirt and loose cotton top, together with her long, damp, unstyled hair, made her appear younger than her true twenty-nine years. She had little gravitas and nothing, she suspected, in the way of presence. But this was all there had ever been, and it would have to do.
She crossed to the door to face her pranksters. At least she’d find out how they did it. She hoped it would prove stunningly clever, just so she didn’t feel such a gullible fool.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
They still stood there in the narrow passage, leaning against the walls, breaking off a whispered conversation to straighten up and gaze at her from serious, anxious eyes.
“Come in,” Elizabeth said with resignation.
They filed inside, just a little self-consciously, and sat side by side on her hastily made bed, glancing at one another with what seemed to be nervousness.
Good. Serves you bloody right.
Refusing to make it easy for them, she stood there and waited. It was good practice for the next year when students would line up before her like this to make excuses for not handing in essays.
Glancing from the fair man to the dark one, she was sure neither of them had played the part of Saloman. She was glad of that. She never wanted to lay eyes on that character ever again. She did wonder how much of it they’d seen, although she’d been pretty sure at the time there had been no one else in the crypt.
Konrad took a deep breath and spoke. “Miss Silk, are you aware what you did last night?”
She let a cynical smile twist her lips. “I’m aware I was set up, if that’s what you mean.”
“Set up?” He frowned.
Perhaps she’d gotten the phrase wrong. Spelling it out, she said, “Dmitriu sent me to Sighesciu. I’m presuming you three and your other friend set up the tomb and the dust to scare the pants off me. Congratulations—you succeeded. But I won’t bear a grudge, especially if you give me a genuine lead this time to Saloman’s death.”
Glancing along the line of open mouths, she was sure they wouldn’t be able to do that either. Saloman would remain a mystery, a side note in her thesis that this was one case that didn’t fit, possibly because several different characters had become confused over the centuries.
Konrad said, “Dmitriu? The vampire Dmitriu sent you to Sighesciu?”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Elizabeth whirled around, pointing at the door. “Close it behind you, please, and don’t bother coming back. The only reason I let you in this time was because I foolishly imagined you’d come to apologize.”
“Apologize?” Mihaela sounded so baffled that Elizabeth itched to slap her.
“Don’t push it,” she snapped. “I admit you got me. You fooled me. You scared me shitless. Congratulations. But it’s not dark anymore, and contrary to apparently popular belief, I’m not a
complete
moron. It’s over. I know you tricked me. Now go. And if I ever set eyes on any of you again—or Dmitriu or your ‘vampire’ friend—I’ll report your assault to the police. Good-bye.”
She was rather pleased with that rant, but it didn’t have quite the effect she’d hoped for. Instead of shuffling out with half-embarrassed giggles, they sat perfectly still behind her back, and when Konrad spoke, it was with an air of helplessness that ate at her cynicism.
“Miss Silk, please . . . We had nothing to do with hurting you. We were nowhere near Sighesciu yesterday. But if you were assaulted, we need to know in what way.”
“Guess.” Elizabeth turned back to glare at him.
His gaze slid away, down to her throat, then back up to her face. “He bit you, he drank your blood, but he let you live—”
“Why did he let her live?” István, the darker man, interrupted.
“Perhaps he wasn’t strong enough at the time?”
“Maybe he was grateful to her for waking him,” Mihaela suggested.
Elizabeth said, “Would you like to make up your minds outside? I’m busy.”
“Please, Miss Silk, you have to listen to us!”
“Um—no, I don’t.” Elizabeth picked up her bag, shoveled her notepad into it, and grabbed the car keys from the bedside table. If it came to it, she’d damned well leave them here and inform reception there were intruders in her room.
“Miss Silk, you have to understand that you are in terrible danger,” Konrad said solemnly.
“So will you be when I get to the police station.”
“I’m serious!”
“Oh, so am I.” Elizabeth’s eyes locked with Konrad’s, and something like shock began to permeate her certainty. He didn’t look like a prankster, but instead a cross between a serious academic and a determined athlete. If he had a sense of humor, he kept it well away from his face.
“Please sit down and listen to us. This isn’t a joke or a trick or whatever you’re imagining. We are serious—deadly serious. And you need to understand.”
The last statement was certainly true.
Knowing she would regret it, Elizabeth lowered herself until she perched on the edge of the hard chair beside the bed.
You’re weak
, she told herself.
You should have thrown them out. Now, you’ll never be rid of them. . . .
Konrad said, “Will you tell us what happened to you last night?”
“No.
You
talk to
me
. Or go.”
Konrad inclined his head. “All right. Last night, you went to Sighesciu and somehow discovered the tomb of the ancient vampire Saloman. Something you did wakened him after three centuries, and now he’s loose in the world once more. My c—”
“How do you know?” Elizabeth interrupted.
Konrad blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you were nowhere near Sighesciu yesterday, how do you know what I did or didn’t do there?”
“Because we have a reliable—and petrified—informant who told us that Saloman walks again. He drained two fledgling vampires whom we know of and drank from several humans besides yourself. After three hundred years, he’s starving and out of control. I can’t begin to tell you how dangerous that makes him.”
Elizabeth let her gaze flicker from him to the others. On her guard as she was, she saw no sign of deceit, no sliding eyes, no shifty movements or even deliberately steady stares. It occurred to her that these people believed what they were saying. How they knew of her interest in Saloman or her visit to Sighesciu she wasn’t sure, but any of the people she’d been talking to over the past months could have talked to them too. The same lies could have been repeated to all. They weren’t country people. In fact, she guessed that only the girl, Mihaela, was even Romanian. István was clearly Hungarian—although there were many ethnic Magyars in this part of Transylvania—and Konrad was probably of German extraction. But all of them had a sort of cosmopolitan, well-traveled air that sat very oddly with the nonsense they were spouting.
These were no wacky tricksters after all, but genuine, very serious nutters.
“I see,” she said, carefully noncommittal. “And you are . . . ?”
Konrad’s shoulders relaxed, as if the hardest part of his battle was won. “We are part of an international organization dedicated to eliminating vampires from the world. My colleagues and I are based in Budapest, but there is generally more work for us in the mountains of both Hungary and Romania.”
“I see,” Elizabeth repeated. “And your—informant—told you about me too?”
Konrad hesitated, exchanging glances with István. “Yes . . . But we knew about you already. We know about all the researchers who come here asking about vampire legends. It makes you a target for the vampires, and it’s our duty to protect you.”
Elizabeth closed her mouth. There was nothing to say to that.
Konrad continued. “The vampire Dmitriu already approached you and sent you to Sighesciu. It’s not generally known that Sighesciu is—was—Saloman’s resting place.”
“Why not?” Elizabeth found herself asking.
“Other vampires, his enemies, could kill him for good, scatter his remains so far apart that he’d never walk again. His friends didn’t want that. His enemies, who staked him in the first place, didn’t want anyone finding him and waking him.”
“How can he be awakened if he’s been staked?” she asked, wondering wildly if she’d fallen into an old Hammer Horror script.
“Saloman is an Ancient,” István said with careful emphasis. “He is therefore very hard to stop at all. Staking him alone does not dispel his spirit; it merely holds him.”
“Then why didn’t his enemies scatter him at the time?”
“We don’t really know that. There have been suggestions that they were too afraid of him, even staked. His power and his standing were awesome in those days, among both vampires and humans.”
“How come?” Elizabeth demanded.
István shrugged. “Sheer strength, acquired through age and study. Plus, according to the sources we have, a formidable intelligence and force of personality. Perhaps his enemies were still influenced by these traits. But there is also evidence of a major battle, so it’s possible they were disturbed or distracted before they could finish the job. On the other hand, if Saloman’s friends won the battle, they were still too late to release him. He couldn’t be freed without . . .” István broke off and glanced at Konrad.
“Without human blood,” Konrad said. “I should tell you: I have been to Sighesciu myself and have never even seen his tomb. I was told it was hidden by magic from his friends and enemies alike, so I have no idea how you found it. Did Dmitriu attack you?”
“Of course not! He wasn’t even there!” She frowned. She’d thought she’d seen him, afterward, even imagined she’d run him over.
“Then if Dmitriu didn’t take your blood, how did it get on the tomb?”
“My hand was pricked by a rose thorn. . . .”
Oh hell, I’m talking as if I believe them. Lock me up quick.
“Does it matter?”
Konrad shrugged again. “Only as a curiosity. Perhaps it was drops of your blood that made the tomb visible to you. The point is, you wakened him, and you escaped before he could kill you. The blood of his Awakener is important to him. On top of that, word is out that
you
are responsible. Plenty of other vampires are pissed off at you for that, including Zoltán, the regional leader here. Seriously, you need to leave Romania and go as far from eastern Europe as you can get.”
“I will,” Elizabeth soothed.
“When?”
“Soon. I have to be back in Scotland in September.”
“That’s weeks away! You have to go now.”
“I haven’t finished here yet.”
“Miss Silk, your life, your soul, are more important than any thesis!”
“Don’t make me say my life
is
my thesis,” she begged, although it was loweringly close to the truth.
“Please, come with us now. We’ll look after you in Budapest until you can get on a flight home.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind, but I’ll take my chances here for the next couple of weeks.” She stood up. “And now, I really need to eat before I start work. . . .”
“Miss Silk, please reconsider.” Konrad stood up with her, as did the others. “At least let us teach you how to defend yourself. You really don’t know what you’re dealing with here. It’s not safe for you to be out alone after sundown. Every vampire in the region wants you dead, and you must understand that Saloman was the most powerful vampire who ever lived. He’s back, and he’ll want your blood.”
“Actually, I want his,” Elizabeth said grimly. His and Dmitriu’s. It looked as if they’d been taking advantage of people a lot more gullible than she. Vampire legends had gotten out of hand recently. She blamed Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “Um . . . Before you go . . . what
do
you know about Saloman’s death?”