Blood Spirits

  At least . . . I stopped and stood there, though the wind cut through my coat and mittens as if they were beach clothes. Something was wrong. I did a slower sweep of the fountain, turned off for the winter. The young shepherdess looked as graceful and free with her snow decoration as she did when seen through rainbow-hued sprays of water. The animals, mythical and normal, were blurred by the snow. I gazed outward at the traffic circle, to the winter-bare trees. That was it: one of them looked gray, the branches brittle and broken. As if it wasn’t hibernating but dead. I shifted my gaze, hoping I was wrong.

  The buildings framing the circle had the corbels I remembered and here and there a gargoyle. I spotted at least three eras of architectural styles, punctuated by tall windows, many of which glowed golden in the bluish winter light. As I plunged my way up the half-remembered narrow street leading to the northern end of town, I passed through a low, mossy, medieval archway attached to a Renaissance building that reminded me of photos of Italian villas. Juxtaposed was a half-timbered building, in its turn annexed in yet a different style. The original Renaissance symmetry had long since been amended to a jumble that I found immensely appealing.

  I looked more closely as I walked by, or I might not have spotted an intriguing anomaly—a door, painted so realistically that at first I thought it was three dimensional. I back-stepped a couple of paces, and yes—it was a painted door with beautifully rendered hinges that looked like stylized flowers of a type I did not recognize.

  An impossible door! The sheer absurdity cheered me right up. I jumped over a thin slushy stream winding its way down the cobblestones, and climbed a steep hill lined with older houses, slipping and sliding on the cobblestones. The icy wind buffeted my face. Dobrenica was colder even than London had been, and I’d thought that the equivalent of the North Pole, after California’s endless summer.

  As I neared Natalie’s familiar door it opened and a young Dobreni woman stepped out. Her eyes lowered modestly as she walked away.

  From the doorway came a slow American drawl: “I do not believe my eyes.”

  There was Nat. Her short, curly brown cap of hair was tucked up into a kerchief, and she wore a floor-length dress of some thick material that hid most of her generous contours. “Look who’s blown back into town.” She leaned against her door frame, arms crossed.

  What kind of welcome was that? “At least,” I said, trying for humor, “you didn’t make the King’s X and spit three times, like Dobrenis no doubt still do to ward off the devil.”

  I might as well have saved my breath.

  Her lips tightened, then she sighed. “You may as well come in, since you’re here.”

  Her living area was as cluttered as ever, the mismatched furniture piled with knickknacks, the walls mostly covered with wooden crate bookshelves, all of them overstuffed. She waved me to the ancient, sagging armchair as she dropped onto the scruffy, equally aged couch bed, stretched out her legs, and propped her feet on an end table. She was wearing jogging shoes and heavy sweats under the old-fashioned skirt.

  Her smile was caustic. “I expected you’d return within a week. Or never. No word, even! I thought about placing a bet with someone that your granddaughter shows up and pulls the same stunt in fifty years’ time—”

  I rubbed my eyes, feeling sick inside. “But it’s different than Gran—”

  “Who was to know that?” she cut in roughly. “Not a friggin’ word, a postcard, even. Jeez, dude, was it revenge, or just a royal snit?”

  “Go on.” I got to my feet, hands out. “Take your best shot. A week ago somebody I don’t even know told me I needed to fix things, and I’m trying.”

  “Fix things?”

  But when I started for the door, she said hastily, “Sit down, sit down. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Hell! I promised myself if I ever saw you again I’d be cool. None of my business. But—hell!”

  “Then it was bad. Tony said I’d left behind a cock-up, but if he said noon was daylight I’d be busy looking for the moon.”

  “Tony?” she repeated.

  “Saw him in London. When I flew over with Gran to stay with Milo.” She waved her hands at me to stop, then pressed the heels of her hands against her eyelids. “Okay, one thing at a time. What exactly did Tony tell you?”

  “That I left behind a mess.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “That his father was dead, and the Blessing didn’t work—which I’d already figured out. Oh, he also told me that he and Alec made a truce. He’d obviously been at Milo’s a lot, as he’d met my mom.”

  “When was this? Date, day, time.” And when I told her, she said, “Jeez, I can’t believe this.”

  “Can’t believe what?” I said and added, “Does your ‘this’ have anything to do with the phone calls that Tony and Milo got? After which, Tony, I might add, then attacked me with a sword.”

  “What?” This time it was Nat who stood up and then sat down again. She set her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. “I was normal when I woke up today. Do I look normal?” The hands dropped. “No, don’t answer that. You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “But I am,” I said, getting impatient. “Look, if this is a bogus idea, then I’ll go home again.”

  “What’s your ‘this’?” Nat asked.

  “To find out what’s going on with Ruli. Because I saw this weird apparition where she—Nat, are you all right?”

  Nat’s jaw had sagged.

  “So you really don’t know?” she whispered.

  “Know. What?” I said with careful patience.

  “Ruli,” Natalie said as carefully, “is dead.”

  SIX

  “DEAD? WHAT HAPPENED?”

  “The car brodied off a cliff, because . . . no. There’s enough rumor going around.”

  Every nerve in my body zinged with that painful internal shock then went cold. “Okay. Tony did not tell me that. If he knew. But . . . he had to. After his mystery phone call, he came out and said ‘this particular day.’ Then he said he doesn’t believe in coincidence. What coincidence, and why wouldn’t he tell me, for heaven’s sake, instead of attacking me like a lunatic and calling me a liar?”

  Nat sighed. “I really don’t want to get into rumors. I wouldn’t say this in front of any of them.” On the last word, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the southeast end of the city, where the aristocrats had their city houses, along with the rest of Dobrenica’s VIP crowd. “But I think there’s something hinky about the whole thing. However. I said I wouldn’t do rumor, so here’s the Wikipedia on what’s been corroborated. On Monday, Ruli wanted to leave for Paris. Family shindig for the holiday. Alec took off with her down the south road toward the border in that cool ride of his.”

  “The Daimler?”

  “That’s the one. Usually they do the border run with a couple of Vigilzhi on motorcycles, you know, going in front. But they left without them, straight into a snow flurry. See what I mean about hinky? Anyway, the roads get dangerous fast. When the Vigilzhi went looking for them, they saw a column of smoke. Discovered the car had gone over a cliff.”

  I thought my heart would stop. “Alec?”

  “Fine, he’s fine.” She waved me down. “When the guys got off their cycles to take a look, they found Alec lying on an outcropping a few yards down. No broken bones, though he was pretty bruised up. Ruli’s purse was there with him. The car was on fire below, and the purse made them fear the worst because there was no sign of her. But there was no way to climb down. They took Alec back to the palace and rushed a team with rappelling stuff back to the spot, but by then the car was burned out. They found Ruli’s bones inside.” She grimaced and shook her head.

  “What caused the crash? Ice?”

  “He doesn’t remember the accident. Clocked his head on a rock, and came to when they got him onto one of the motorcycles.” She hesitated, rubbed her eyes again, then dropped her hands. “And that’s all I know for sure.”


  The mental and emotional jolt was like a 7.2 earthquake at 3:00 a.m.

  “My turn,” she said, “‘Apparition’?”

  “I guess she was a ghost, then,” I said, numb with shock. “But it was so different.” I told her what I’d seen. “She faded so slowly that I didn’t think she was actually dead. Not dead dead. I mean, the one I saw a few days before that survived—oh, never mind that. This stuff is so new to me! Look, tell me this: What time would that have been here? Was it when the accident happened?”

  “Around midnight in New York . . . that would have been . . . um, early Tuesday morning, I’m pretty sure.” She counted rapidly on her fingers. “And the accident happened Monday, late in the day.”

  “Okay, then already my theory is bust. About her ghost, or apparition, appearing when she died.” I thought again of Ron, and shook my head. “I really do not understand how that stuff works, because last summer I saw ghosts of people who lived centuries ago. Geez, and I thought it out so carefully. Stay with the Waleskas, who I know. Swear them to secrecy. Come to you and find out how to contact Ruli without hassle. Then . . . find out why she appeared in a window reflection to ask me for help.”

  Nat waved away the window reflection. “Coming to me was good, but the Waleskas? You still don’t have a clue, dude. Your being here is probably all over the valley by now.”

  “But they promised.”

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “Look, I don’t want to say anything against them. I checked them out after you left, when I was trying to figure out if you’d really busted out of Dobrenica. The young teen I’d trust, Theresa? And the older teen, what’s her name, Tania? Yeah. She’s an odd duck—someone told me she used to sit on the roof ridgepole and talk to imaginary friends when she was a kid. Played with cats and rats. Actually, I kinda like the sound of that! Anyway, she’s gotten locked into the Salfmatta sorority, so you can bet she’d keep her lip zipped.”

  Salfmatta sorority—the Salfmattas were the ones who were kind of like healers and kind of like mages, near as I could tell. My grandmother’s old governess, Tante Mina, was one. I’d stayed with her after I escaped from Tony, and she’d clued me in about the Blessing, among other things.

  “I’d also trust the married sister,” Nat went on. “But the mother is a businesswoman. I’m sure she promised you. I’m sure she even meant whatever she promised. But my guess is she couldn’t resist telling her sister. They have this sort of rivalry thing going. The sister owns the laundry at that end of town—you know how electricity has been. Even with the dam, few people have washers and dryers. The laundry is like a social center. That goes back about ten centuries. And Madam Waleska’s sister has the fastest mouth east of Frankfurt.”

  “So what should I do? I’d better get on the first vehicle I can. I do not want Alec to find out I was here. Not with his wife barely cold. It’s way too sickening.”

  “Safe bet he already knows,” she said and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Kim, I would agree normally. But this isn’t a normal situation.”

  “Do you mean politics, or something else?”

  She grimaced and looked around her cluttered room as if seeking clues.

  “Okay,” I said, striving to sound reasonable. “So tell me this, Wikipedia. What would be worse: For me to go away without seeing him, or to see him?” And when she hesitated, still not meeting my eyes, I asked, “What did Alec say when I left last summer?”

  Nat faked a surprised look. “Alec? Say anything?”

  I rubbed my knuckles across my burning eyes. “Oh, crap, I thought I’d cried the last tears in September.”

  Nat yanked a box of tissues from among her welter of pillows and blew her nose defiantly. “Twit!” She eyed me, her own face flushed, eyes pink. “Yeah, it was bad. For about a week. He was here every day, ostensibly in case you sent a message, but I knew it was ol’ Mama Nat’s American accent he wanted to hear. Then he stopped coming after the wedding, and I’ve only seen him once since—public appearances don’t count—when I was lunching with Beka and he showed up at her place.”

  “Beka?”

  “Ridotski. I told you about her.”

  I remembered now. During the summer, Tony’s mother, on the pretense of being the loving aunt welcoming the new niece, had controlled my social schedule, making sure I never met any of Alec’s friends. I knew three things about this Beka Ridotski: that she was the granddaughter of the Prime Minister; she taught at the Temple School; and, at one time, she and Alec had been an item.

  I squashed questions I had no right to ask, and said, “I left so Alec wouldn’t be forced to make a choice.”

  “Very honorable and noble, but it didn’t occur to you that he might not want it made for him?”

  “Tony said that, too.”

  “In-teresting. Well, there’s no knowing what’s going on in Tony’s pointy little head, so we’ll forget him for now. I’ve got five minutes left before my next patient. Kim, I think, all things considered, it would be better if you get the straight scoop directly from Alec. Since you’re here.”

  “So what’s the protocol?”

  “Get your keister over to the palace. Oh, it’s already too late today. He usually leaves there by this time, and I have no idea where he goes these days.”

  “You mean he’s not in the hospital?”

  “Alec?” She threw up her hands in mock surprise. “Take R&R like a normal person? He was back at work the next morning. All things considered, probably better if you don’t go chasing all over the city trying to find him. First thing in the morning, go to the main gate. My guess is the Vigilzhi will wave you right in, and direct you to the right place.”

  Wave me right in. So much for the anonymity of winter clothing.

  “Got it,” I said, rising.

  She grinned and bopped me lightly on the shoulder. “Despite my having hexed you steadily for months, I think you’re good people. Go for it. Anything I can do—”

  “If you’ll promise me one thing?”

  “Yeah?”

  I put my hands to my heart. “You’ll pick up the pieces after, whatever happens.”

  She laughed again. “Dude. Report back. I want the full Monty.”

  I might not get even a partial Monty, I thought as I bundled up and left. But I was going to try.

  Darkness had descended during the short time I was inside, and the temperature had dropped even farther, which I hadn’t thought possible. I found an empty inkri at the bottom of Nat’s street and, with gratitude, hailed the driver. As the sleigh skidded downhill toward the Waleskas’, the frigid air carried the melodic rise and fall of singing, sweet and pure as the shivering of crystal. Somewhere, people wandered about singing carols. The smell of braised or baked pork was pungent, and I wondered if some strata of Dobreni society celebrated a version of the Romanian Ignat.

  When I reached the inn, Madam offered to serve me dinner and brought enough food for a platoon of marines. I ate, read until my eyes swam, and went to bed early, listening to the faint sounds of carolers walking up and down the streets.

  The chill that had gripped my bones when Natalie told me Ruli was dead did not fade. When I got out of bed to figure out how to turn up the radiator, I discovered that my room was icy. I burrowed down in the thick coverlet and shut my eyes . . . and spent the rest of the night waking up from heart-pounding nightmares. Car crashes, fires, a horrible dream about standing in a garden looking up as snow fell, my limbs gradually freezing as the air got colder and colder.

  I woke to the bleak, watery light of a winter dawn. My hands and feet were numb with cold. I felt the radiator. Warm. But the warmth seemed to dissipate within inches.

  My head throbbed, my skin hurt. Noises were sharp, almost distorted. I went to the bathroom, relieved to find it empty in spite of all those guests. As the hot water slowly filled the tub, I wondered if I was getting sick—not only my body, but the entire world seemed askew. Guilt for coming here? I peered in the small mirror on the old plaster w
all, glaring at my own bloodshot eyes.

  Help me, Ruli had said.

  I got into the tub, concentrated on my tai chi breathing as I soaked, and when I got out of the bath, I moved through some of the tai chi forms I’d been learning, as I had not found a fencing club in Fort Williams. Then I went down to a good breakfast and, after eating, felt human enough to face the interview I wanted. Dreaded. Wanted.

  How could I help Ruli now? How could I help him? Because one thing I was sure of: There was no way that he would cause an ‘accident’ just to get rid of an inconvenient wife, no matter what rumors might be circulating. Rumors, I was willing to bet any sum of money, had to have at their center Tony’s mother, the evil duchess, who had once smilingly asked me to call her Tante Sisi.

  By ten I reached the great gates of the Royal Residence.

  Its walls gleamed warmly gold in the wintry sunlight, reminding me again of Schönbrunn Palace outside Vienna. The snow-covered grounds were smooth either side of the pathway. Few people were around—no tourists lined up at the gate or shuffling behind a guide. A Vigilzhi in the well-remembered blue-piped-with-scarlet uniform, caped and gloved, peered at me. I hadn’t tried to hide my face. Sure enough, his eyes widened. Then his expression went all official and blank as he saluted me and opened the ornate carved door.

  “I wish to speak with the Statthalter,” I said in Dobreni. I could see my breath.

  He gave me a short bow. “Please. Go to the double door there, in the south wing.”

  The palace is shaped kind of like an E with a bent spine. The south wing lay to the left. Inside that door waited a young guy with a shock of curly black hair resolutely tamed. He, too, wore a Vigilzhi uniform, but with no insignia and no cap. Maybe a cadet. His eyes widened when he saw me. They were startlingly green. “Good day, Mam’zelle,” he said in careful French that sounded rehearsed. “Please to come this way.”