Blood Spirits

  “No.” Tony waited as the listeners checked the living lie detector. Honoré sat there like stone.

  Alec went on, “You have neglected to share your discovery with your family.”

  “And that is why I am angry,” Honoré said.

  The duchess sat back, her face blanched. “Aurelia?” she whispered.

  Tony repeated softly, “So where is my sister?”

  “What are you talking about?” Cerisette’s voice went shrill. “She’s dead. And buried! We were all there at her funeral!”

  “She is not in that sarcophagus,” Tony said, watching Alec. “At my request, Gilles brought a couple of Interpol agents, like I said. One from Lyon, the other a forensic specialist. Under the guise of filming, they have been investigating everyone and everything they could. Including the crypt in the cathedral. They discovered last week that the bones in Ruli’s sarcophagus belong to a male between the ages of 25 and 35.”

  Alec said, “I found out myself four days ago. There’s a strong possibility that those are the remains of Marzio di Peretti. Whom Magda Stos swore she drove to the border. So my question for you is, where is Magda Stos?”

  Tony flicked a glance Honoré’s way, then sat back down, frowning. The duchess raised her head. Tears gleamed along her eyelids. She said angrily to Alec, “You were drunk. You drove her off a cliff. You admitted you were drunk!”

  “I said the last thing I remembered was that toast, after our agreement that she would go to Paris.” Alec said to Tony, “I now believe I was drugged. It would explain why I only remember toasting, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on that mountainside with Ruli’s purse. Since Magda brought those drinks, I have some questions for her about that, as well.”

  “He’s lying,” the countess’s voice trembled with fury. She glared at Honoré. “He’s lying, and you’re covering for him!”

  “He believes it is true,” Honoré said. “Every word.”

  The duchess stiffened when Robert cursed violently, then growled, “I believe I was drugged on the twenty-first. Perhaps that is why the vampires are here.”

  “What?” Tony asked.

  “But you told us—” Phaedra began.

  “I insist that this discussion be held privately,” the duchess stated, sending accusing glances at the rest of the Council.

  The Night of the Thorn. She doesn’t want it outed, I thought.

  “A private discussion can be arranged.” The Prime Minister’s voice was mild. He pushed himself to his feet with difficulty and tottered past two of the gunmen to address the bishop in a low voice.

  And I will bet anything that the Prime Minister has known about the Night of the Thorn all along. Tania had hinted that the Salfmattas knew at least something.

  Then the bishop said, “There is an alcove through that door, used by our community for family visits. Please make use of it.”

  The von Mecklundburgs marched off, leaving their breakfasts half-eaten. Honoré got to his feet to follow, leaning heavily on his cane.

  I hesitated, then caught Alec’s eye. He twitched his head toward the door, and I got up, making an internal wager on who would try to throw me out first, Cerisette or her mother. Of course there was always the duchess. Why not go for a threefer, I thought as I followed him.

  Niklos started to fall in behind me, but Tony waved him back. “Watch the door,” he murmured. “If Trasyemova shows up in force, at least give me warning.”

  The room we entered was a Dobreni-style parlor with cushioned wooden chairs, a low table, and nothing on the walls but a crucifix and a very ancient painting, the saints’ haloes glinting gold in the rising light from the single window.

  As soon as the door was shut, Cerisette glared my way, ready to start in, but Phaedra cut her off at the pass. “I already told her about the Night of the Thorn. She is related, after all. And so far, she hasn’t tried to poison anyone, shoot anyone, or run anyone off a road.” She pointed at Alec. “As for him, it’s about time someone tells some truth, after all the rumors you’ve been spreading about him being a murderer.”

  The duchess lifted her head regally. “Magda Stos has always been a truthful servant.”

  Phaedra rolled her eyes.

  “Where is she now?” Alec asked. “Up at the castle?”

  Tony lifted his hands. “I thought she was on the train. Did it even get into Riev?”

  “Late last night,” Alec said. “She wasn’t either of the two passengers.”

  Robert said begrudgingly, “No one has heard from her since she called from Paris and said she was setting out to return.”

  The countess dismissed that with a quick gesture. “Perhaps she’s taken a detour. Gone to Marseilles to visit her married sister. It is the holidays, is it not?”

  “Then she would have informed me.” The duchess pressed trembling fingers to her forehead. “My head aches.” She turned to Robert’s wife. “Chérie, are you certain you do not have my pills?”

  Tony’s voice cut through. “Uncle Robert? What happened on the twenty-first? You swore the treaty was made.”

  At this semi-public mention of their secret, most of the von Mecklundburgs looked angry or ill at ease. I thought, Wow, you guys sure don’t want anyone to know that you have anything to do with vampires.

  “I thought it was.” Robert scowled at Tony, then fingered the bandage over his eye. “But nothing went right, and I was so busy with the opera house . . .”

  His own family began stirring at his self-exculpation, which he obviously saw. So he said in an angry voice, “Ruli was supposed to go with us. As future queen.” His gaze sidled away from Alec, then he straightened up and said in a more forceful voice, “But on Monday the twentieth, Percy and I waited for her. She was supposed to meet us at the house at one. We waited until three. She didn’t come, and no one answered the palace telephone in the Statthalter suite. You know how long it takes to get up to the Eyrie. We had to leave. We got there only a half hour before sunset. We ate dinner and retired early, because we knew we had to rise early to be at . . .” His gaze flickered our way. “We had to be in place before the eclipse began.”

  The duchess stated, “Ruli did not meet you because Alexander drove her off a cliff.”

  Everyone ignored that. Tony said to his uncle, “Go on.”

  Robert crossed his massive arms. “We did not drink. We retired early, as I say. I was up betimes, but Percy was asleep, and I couldn’t waken him. Jakov and Boris prepared breakfast. Put my coffee in a thermos, all as always. I carried the . . . implements myself.” Another of those looks. “And walked to the site. It was dark, but I knew They were there. As always. Everything as always, though I had begun to feel ill. Groggy. I drank the entire thermos in an effort to wake up.”

  Robert paused, looked away, then down at his hands. “I don’t actually remember anything past taking the Thorn in hand, ready for use. I woke up with the Rose in my lap, encrusted with blood, and a cut on my wrist. I had a headache. I remembered having a headache the first time I had to do the ritual, and I fainted that time, too. I assumed I had carried out the treaty as always, but since I do not remember, I believe that I was drugged. Perhaps it was in the thermos, somehow.”

  He glanced around, obviously uncomfortable to be exposing a family secret. “Percy was awake when I returned to the ground floor of the castle. He also had a headache. Thought he was coming down sick. Believing that I had done what must be done, I drove us down to the city, and he went straight to the opera house. I arrived at Mecklundburg House to the news that Ysvorod had driven Ruli off a cliff the day before. The staff told me that Dr. Kandras had taken care of retrieving Ruli. I saw no purpose in trying to identify her charred body, so I called Ysvorod, and he agreed to pay Kandras for making the arrangements.”

  Robert gave Alec a scowling nod, then turned to Tony. “I called Sisi in Paris. And that is everything I know.” But in an irritated burst he added, “If I was drugged, I do not understand. Jakov or Boris have never done such a t
hing in their very long lives.”

  Tony waved that off. “My guess is that it was someone else.”

  “Who?” Robert asked loudly. “The place was empty—colder than hell. Everyone had gone home for the holiday.”

  I suspect everyone there was thinking the same thing that I was: the Eyrie, an enormous castle built in four massive layers and honeycombed with secret passages, would be easy to hide in for anyone who knew the place.

  Robert muttered, “I tell you, no one was there. Even the ghosts were gone.”

  The word ghosts did something to my brain. Maybe it was a reminder, or who knows, but a second after he said that, the room was filled with them. Not only this room—the walls were gone, the space entirely different. I was surrounded by barely perceptible ghosts, ephemeral as skeins of smoke caught in sunlight, as their mouths moved in unison. At first I thought they were monks, or maybe it was monks at first, but they blurred and shifted as I gazed down the centuries at people of all ages, chanting in unison. Was that a nigun I heard?

  Unmoored by vertiginous perceptive layers, I grabbed at the table with both hands to steady myself.

  “Kim? Are you all right?” Alec’s voice came dimly through the waves of vertigo.

  I shut my eyes, willed them away, then peeked . . . and discovered the von Mecklundburgs giving me various versions of the hairy eyeball.

  Alec looked intently into my face. “Kim?”

  “Ghosts.” I swept my hands through the air, causing a couple of people to look around warily. Cerisette was sneaky about it, as if she didn’t want to be caught. Another time I would have laughed. “A bazillion of them. Chanting.’”

  Grandfather Armandros popped back.

  I was too exasperated for laughter, as I pointed at Grandfather Armandros, standing there behind Tony, the eternal cigarette burning.

  Esplumoir, he said.

  I lifted my voice. “I hate ghosts because they don’t make any sense. Esplumoir? Why not—”

  “What?” Tony jerked his head up, and for a moment he and our grandfather were curiously blended in the same space.

  I rubbed my eyes. When I looked again, Grandfather Armandros was gone. “Esplumoir,” I said. “He said it once before. He said it now. You didn’t see him? You didn’t feel him? He was standing right where you are. You were stepping on his toes.”

  Tony was staring at me.

  “It has a meaning outside of a nearly forgotten medieval text?” I asked.

  Tony said slowly, “Its origin is some swill about Merlin, but it’s used here as a metaphor for the Dsaret crown.” His head turned. “That’s what you told me, Mother.”

  “That’s what I was told when I was growing up.” The duchess pressed thin, tense fingers to her forehead. “Oh, why did I run out of my pills? My head aches—I cannot think.” But she made an effort—you could see it. “Before he died, the king had long given up hope that Lily would return, and he relented. Because of the war. He told my mother a secret that only the king or queen was supposed to know, because Milo was out of reach, leading the defense. My mother told my father.” Now she rubbed her eyes. “Her governess, who became mine, heard a part of it from beyond the door. She did not hear everything but when I turned eighteen, she told me what she heard. It was around the same time that Great-Aunt Danilov told me about the Night of the Thorn.” The duchess lifted her chin and said to me, “This is what the old king told my mother: that Esplumoir is the Dsaret crown. If these words have another meaning, you should ask your grandmother. If she is who she says she is, she should know.”

  Ignoring the spite, I said, “She left before her father could tell her. Remember, she left Dobrenica suddenly. And she was just sixteen.”

  Honoré spoke up. “Here are some facts of which none of you seem to be aware. ‘Esplumoir’ is the name given to a tapestry in the old Dsaret chapel, right below us now, in the crypt. You’ve all seen it, though it is so aged it’s nearly black.”

  Alec said, “Would that be the one depicting a kind of mountain, with some kind of shapes in the sky?”

  “Those are falcons.” Honoré flicked his fingers out briefly. “Like those on the Dsaret device, which became our flag. The interesting part is the Latin tag in gold thread. It is unfortunately so tarnished and old it is barely visible. Some of the words have vanished. But I can tell you approximately what it says.”

  “I know what it says,” Alec said. “Milo told me that tapestry was a representation of the Augustinian city of God and the city of the temporal realm. He thought it was a metaphor for the gateway to heaven, for the Latin says, Guard the portal well.”

  Honoré muttered something in ancient Greek, then lifted his head. “I believe what we might be talking about is the Portal to the Nasdrafus.”

  Alec’s lips parted. “If it really exists . . .”

  “. . . it would almost have to be on Dsaret Mountain.” Honoré studied each person in the room. “This is the danger of oral traditions. We each seem to have heard a piece of the truth. If we put together everything we’ve been taught, there is a common thread, which is also supported in so many ancient legends and songs. I’ve been told by a Salfpatra that they once thought that this portal was a standing archway on the northwest face of Dsaret Mountain. But journeys there to test it have proved fruitless.”

  I knew that archway. It was next to the hunting lodge called Sedania . . . now owned by the von Mecklundburgs.

  “Back to the problem at hand.” Alec turned to Tony. “So if your Night of the Thorn is not performed, that is an invitation for vampires to come and go freely?”

  “No!” the von Mecklundburgs all said.

  Honoré opened his hand in a gesture of appeal. “The ritual was a yearly renewal of a covenant binding those already here from killing anyone, and in turn we promise not to hunt them. We’ve been taught that covenants are very important to them. Promises, all the legends insist, have power in the Nasdrafus.”

  “So how many vampires did you see when you observed this ritual?” Alec asked.

  “Never more than half a dozen.” The duchess shuddered. “In the earliest days, when I was young, it was merely the two.”

  “The two?” I repeated. “You know them by name?”

  The duchess gave me a deer-in-the-headlights stare, and Tony said smoothly, “It’s a figure of speech. We are not on social terms with those things. My mother is right about the main point, which is that until last year, there were never more than five or six. Usually fewer.”

  “So where did these hundreds come from?” Alec asked. “Something happened. This is the first time the city has been invaded in over two hundred years.”

  No one had an answer.

  Esplumoir, Grandfather Armandros said, this time from the middle of the table, the buttons on his open army jacket glowing crimson through the bowl of jam.

  I jumped. “Stop that! Go away unless you mean to help!”

  Everyone was staring again.

  “Will someone shut the hero up?” Cerisette whispered fiercely. “She will never get enough attention.”

  She spoke with such nuclear-powered sarcasm my instinct was to flinch, except I knew that I’d never called myself a hero. Others had.

  So why not own it?

  I smiled at Cerisette. “The hero is finished here.” I headed for the door.

  A quick step, and Tony was right behind me, Alec following. Behind us, the remaining von Mecklundburgs, from the sound of rising voices, fell into a full-on quarrel, everyone accusing everyone else of lying or keeping secrets, Phaedra backing Honoré.

  I pushed the door open to the refectory, and the three of us walked in. A glance back at Beka, who looked up from where she still sat with her family; at a gesture from Alec, she got up and joined us.

  We went through the far door to the library, Tony again waving his guys off. The library was empty except for the old deaf monk, working away at a table with an honest-to-history quill pen.

  Tony turned to me. “Kim. Did yo
u get anything else from Grandfather’s shade?”

  I wanted to tell him to go stuff himself, because I was still mad about the trap. But Alec and Beka were waiting for me to answer, so I said to them, “Just ‘Esplumoir.’ Listen: When we were up on the beekeeper’s terrace, Harulam saw those shadow things converging on the Council Building.”

  “I believe we know that,” Tony retorted pleasantly.

  “No, you’re not thinking,” I shot back. “It was deliberate. A plan.”

  “They knew about the hearing.” Tony shrugged. “So did everyone in the city.”

  Beka said, “Let’s leave the vampires for a moment, and get back to the purpose of the hearing. If you didn’t do anything to your sister (and you haven’t convinced me yet that you didn’t) and Alec didn’t do anything to his wife then . . . who did? Who attacked Honoré three times? Who iced my driveway? Who put Marzio in that crashed auto?”

  Tony muttered, “Someone is sitting somewhere laughing their sodding ass off at us faffing about chasing one another.”

  Alec said, “I intend to find out who. But first priority is the threat to the city. We need to figure out where these vampires have come from and shut off their access. I can promise you that Milo never knew about any portal.”

  Tony leaned against the wall. With the anger gone, he looked tired. “The Thorn ritual mentions a portal, but we thought it was poetic embellishment. One thing for certain, there is no portal anywhere near the Eyrie. The only possibility is that old arch at Sedania, but I have my doubts. People have been running through it all my life without anything happening. If there is a portal somewhere else, I wouldn’t know how to find it.”

  “I think Kim could,” Beka said.

  “Me?”

  Beka brought her chin down. “That ghost seems to follow you around. If you take your prism and concentrate on Armandros von Mecklundburg, perhaps he will show you the way to this Esplumoir.”

  Tony gave me a distracted glance, then said to Beka, “If it can be found. Is there a way to close it?”

  Beka’s brows arched. “If there is a portal to the Nasdrafus, everybody in the country knows how to close it.”