Jessica Rules the Dark Side Page 13

  "I found it already." I looked up to see Ylenia tugging on a book that was almost as big as she was. I half expected her to topple backward when it tumbled into her arms, but she seemed to catch it easily and handed it to Dorin, who thudded it down on the desk, nearly smashing the laptop.

  I pushed the computer aside as my uncle said, "The burial service is actually very simple, even for an Elder. Vampires are big on ceremony, but we don't overdo the whole mourning thing." He sighed. "And let's face it, for a lot of us, there's not much good to say, really. Eulogies tend to be short—and awkward."

  I asked both Ylenia and Dorin, who were crowding me a little, "I suppose I'm in charge of the eulogy?"

  My cousin nodded, and her curls shook. "Yes, the reigning sovereign must deliver the eulogy for an Elder. Lucius delivered my father's."

  "Not that I don't believe Ylenia..." I swiveled my chair toward Dorin. "But are you sure I have to give the speech? There's no way out of it?"

  I felt bad that Claudiu was gone, but it didn't change the fact that he'd hated me. What would I say? "I appreciated the way he hadn't destroyed me ... yet. He seemed content with just undermining me and Lucius."

  Talk about short and awkward.

  "Well, we can check." Dorin flipped open the Carte de Ritual. "I suppose it's possible."

  I'd seen the Book of Ritual: Birth, Death, and Marriage before my wedding. I hadn't understood any of the Romanian then and didn't grasp much more now. "You'll have to read it for me," I reminded them both.

  "Yes, happy to do so," Dorin agreed. He ran one finger down what was apparently the proper page, translating snippets. "Let's see ... burial rite for Elder ... ebony coffin ... orderly viewing of body ... tolling bells..." Then he paused and knitted his brows, reading more closely—to my disappointment. "Yes, I'm afraid that the highest-ranking clan member must address the gathering before interment. And since Lucius will not be attending, for obvious reasons..."

  He trailed off, and he and Ylenia shared uncomfortable glances.

  My gaze darted between them. "You both believe he's innocent."

  "Yes, yes!" Dorin nodded—too quickly. Then he added, more sincerely, "Lucius is not rash. He doesn't act in anger, and he is too ambitious to risk his—your—future on a momentary, if understandable, impulse to destroy someone who challenged his authority as Claudiu did. Lucius would follow the proper channels if he wanted to punish an insubordinate!"

  It wasn't exactly the world's most complimentary defense of character—my husband wouldn't kill someone because it would wreck his career—but I knew that Dorin could only view Lucius as a ruler who was often dismissive of him.

  Why can't they be friends? Lucius could use another ally, too.

  "I am sure that Lucius is innocent," Ylenia said, more convincingly.

  I gave her a grateful look. "Thanks." Then I turned helplessly to the book spread out before me. "Now if one of you would please keep reading..."

  Ylenia and Dorin shared a glance again, and my uncle placed his hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you go rest for a while?" he suggested.

  "You've had a difficult few days," Ylenia added. "Dorin and I can translate everything you need to know and write up a summary, in English. Maybe we'll even come up with suggestions for the eulogy."

  "Yes," Dorin agreed. "We can take care of everything—and tell Flaviu anything he should know, too."

  I knew I should stay with them, but I was exhausted. And to be honest, I didn't want to think about that eulogy ... or deal with Flaviu. "Thanks. That'd be great."

  I stood up to go, but Dorin kept his hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to order dinner, Antanasia? I know the cook doesn't speak English."

  I flushed, wishing I hadn't confided that once, hoping to surprise Lucius, I'd ended up requesting a Romanian dish appropriately called saramură de crap.

  Lucius had laughed when he'd seen it on his plate. "Really, Antanasia?" he'd teased. "Carp in brine? You make me long for lentils! For Vladescus do not eat bottom feeders!"

  Just the thought of Lucius—especially Lucius laughing—ruined any appetite I might have had. "I don't really want dinner. I'm just going to lie down."

  Then I left my relatives alone to do my work, while Emilian escorted me back to my room, walking ahead of me, although I knew the route by then. The castle, blanketed in heavy snow—and without Lucius around—seemed extra quiet, and when Emilian rounded a corner, I was suddenly keenly aware that by having him lead me places instead of following me, I'd left my back exposed. It was a creepy, vulnerable sensation, and when I looked over my shoulder a few times, I could have sworn I saw a figure following me in the shadows.

  Or maybe I was just hallucinating again.

  Chapter 52

  Mindy

  SOMEHOW, WITHOUT LUKEY on the case, I ended up without a bodyguard, and it took me forever to find Jess's office. I musta tried fifty doors and said, "Princess? Office?" to twenty girls who I figured were maids, the way they were all dusting and scurrying around.

  After what seemed like an hour, I finally opened a door and saw a gigantic desk with a very sweet picture of Ned and Dara Packwood smiling at me from a gold frame. Jess's Romanian-English dictionary was there, too, and I thought she should carry around that in her pocket.

  Sitting down on the big chair, I turned on her MacBook, and it only took me three tries to figure out her computer password, which was, duh, Lucius 1!

  I mean, her husband's name and a number? The only part that threw me was the exclamation point, which wasn't like Jess at all. "Still not very tricky, Mrs. Vladescu," I said out loud.

  A few seconds later, I could get into every one of the million programs on her pimped-out Mac, and on the Internet, where it did take me a while to spell "Ylenia Dragomir" right.

  But I finally got it, and at first I thought I had to be wrong. There were hardly any results, and the only stuff I did find was about her time at boarding school. The Lanier Academy had all their old yearbooks online, and there were pictures of Yleni every year she was there. It looked to me like she tried every clique in the book—and never fit in. There she was hanging at the edge of Science All-Stars, and then at the bottom of a pile of cheerleaders, and in her junior year—I guessed before "the money ran out"—it looked like she totally gave up and just hung with the outcasts and stoners, 'cause she was only in one picture and it was a random shot of kids on the bleachers, looking bummed. The loser gallery. You could just tell half of 'em lit up the minute the photographer walked away. They all looked like Raniero's old roommates to me.

  It musta sucked for her, but it wasn't what I'd hoped to find—like a picture of her stabbing somebody.

  "Come on, Min," I told myself. "Do some research for once in your life!" And maybe I really shoulda tried harder in school, 'cause it didn't take long at all to track down a newspaper called Splash Romania!, which looked like the Enquirer for this neck of the woods, and where I found another, very different picture that I locked away in my head, knowing I'd never forget that.

  It wasn't the way Ylenia looked, exactly. It was mainly who she was with that made me suck in my breath like I'd just got kicked.

  When that photo was burned into my brain, I surfed over to Amazon, where I knew two bookworms like Jess and Lukey would have one-click shopping, and I used their credit card to buy Jess a gift that was gonna go a long way toward making her a real Romanian princess.

  And it wasn't a new gown or tiara or scepter, like I woulda thought a few weeks ago.

  What I bought her for $69.95—plus $38.00 more for the fastest international shipping—was power.

  Chapter 53

  Raniero

  LUCIUS—

  I am sorry to learn that you suffer even a little from deprivation in your captivity. If I could take your place, I would do so. I would like very much to meditate with only a rat for companionship! Does it help to think upon the words of the venerable Cheng Yen? "Happiness does not come from having much, but from being attached to little.
"

  I repeat this wisdom often in my humble shack, reminding myself that I am very happy with almost nothing. Better, for one such as me, sand running through otherwise empty fingers than blood on hands full of money, yes?

  Then again, who is Raniero Lovatu to tell a prince to set aside worldly desires? Especially when I sleep so comfortably in a soft bed at your expense? (LOL!)

  Of course, I am sure that you wish not for the wisdom of Chinese philosophers, but for news of your wife, whom I do watch over as I would my own life—if I prized that still.

  Sleep in peace tonight, Lucius. Antanasia does not cry, even before friends, and this tells much about her, I think. She is stronger than perhaps even you believe, my brother.

  You advise me, many times, on the subject of clothing, and so I will dare to offer you words for consideration, too.

  I do not wish this experience upon either of you, but do you wonder if your wife will not grow to fill her role as principessa more quickly when not shadowed by the huge oak that is Lucius Vladescu? All things become stronger in sunlight and wind, yes?

  It is something to muse upon in your hours of quiet companionship with your rat friend, no? (Do you also think of trying to coexist and not KICK, Lucius?)

  Know also that I investigate, as you urge. Of course Raniero will find the true killer. (I imagine that as a collector of American sayings, you are thinking now, It takes one to know one. And feeling reassurance! LOL, very sadly.)

  I even believe that I answer one of your questions already. There is good reason your foe chooses you as his first prey. He fears the retribution you write of, should something befall your wife first. (I am fearful, just reading your last messaggio!) And so we

  solve one part of the puzzle, and quickly.

  The bigger riddle is, to what end is this plot? And why do we "dance around" discussion of the fact that I am the most likely suspect, as your lawful successor in line for the throne?

  R

  Chapter 54

  Antanasia

  THE MORNING OF Claudiu Vladescu's funeral—and the fifth day of Lucius's incarceration—dawned in a way that reminded me of the deceased himself. The day was gray and cold and damp, with an almost moldy smell in the air, like the few people brave enough to live in the scattering of houses in the valley shadowed by our castle were burning rotten wood in their stoves.

  Shoving open the heavy window, I leaned out and saw smoke curling from chimneys that were hidden by the trees, and my constant companion, fear, gripped me even harder than usual.

  Lucky humans, who will do regular human things today.

  Will I be able to remember the words I've memorized?

  "Jess, are you ready?" I turned to find Mindy letting herself into the dressing room. "It's almost time, right?"

  "Yeah ... Yes." I reached out and hauled the window shut before we both froze. Then I turned around and smoothed my black dress, which was long, plain, and made of heavy wool, because I'd have to walk to the burial site after my eulogy. "What do you think?"

  Min cocked her head. "I guess that's how you're supposed to look." Her gaze traveled to my curls. "But let's do something with your hair."

  I noticed, then, that she was dragging a small wheeled carryon that I recognized from my wedding: Mindy Stankowicz's traveling salon, which was probably better equipped than most actual beauty shops. I also realized she was dressed in black, too, somehow having managed to conjure from her other suitcases an outfit suitable for a funeral. "Mindy, you don't have to come."

  She came over and grabbed my shoulders, shoving me toward the chair in front of my vanity. "Of course I'm gonna support you, Jess. You woulda tutored me through Renaissance Art and Critical Thinking if you weren't so busy ruling a sort-of country, right?"

  "Of course." As she grabbed my chin to steady my head, I added, "Thanks."

  But Mindy was already working in her quick, efficient way. "I'm gonna give you a total Princess Grace. Pulled back very tight and serious."

  "I trust you."

  I thought of Raniero and the decision I hadn't made yet. Do I trust him? "Min?"

  She yanked my curls into submission. "Yeah?"

  "You said Raniero didn't even offer to make you a vampire..."

  Her hands stopped. "Yeah?"

  "Would you have really ... done it? Become one for him? Like I did for Lucius?"

  Her fingers dug harder into my hair. "I don't know. I really don't." She shrugged and started working again. "Not that it matters now. He's over the whole thing."

  I could barely move, she had my head trapped so tightly, but I managed to see her face, and I realized with a jolt... She loves him.

  Mindy Stankowicz clearly didn't want to, but she loved a guy she thought was an aimless hippie just like her loser dad but who was actually the world's greatest vampire assassin and second in line for my husband's throne—a fact that had kept me awake for the last several nights.

  Does Raniero secretly want to be king? Is the vow-of-poverty peacenik thing all a ruse? Do the proclamations of brotherhood hide a treacherous heart? He's damned, for crying out loud, and has killed without provocation....

  I needed to decide what, exactly, I believed about Mindy's ex. And in the meantime, I had to convince her to keep him that way. Ex. "Well, it really is a good thing you two broke up, right?"

  "Yeah. Definitely." She didn't sound sure, though.

  All at once, her hands moved even more swiftly, and a few seconds later she turned me fully to the mirror, and I saw that my hair looked suitably severe for a funeral. But my face was haggard, and my eyes were exhausted and haunted and... lonely. I needed Lucius. Needed blood but couldn't bring myself to drink it.

  How weak is Lucius now? Raniero predicted that he would begin slipping toward luat before a week passed, and it's been five days since he drank.

  Lucius was definitely strong, but I knew my husband, and he had a huge appetite for ... me. I reached up and touched my throat where his teeth sank in. It always seemed like he held back, never taking as much as he really wanted. And in Pennsylvania, he'd rarely been without a huge cup, even in school. Might his body—and mind—already be shutting down?

  Mindy must've thought I was frowning at my appearance, because she said, "You look great. Seriously."

  "My hair looks great, thanks to you. But I look scared and tired. And this day is so important." I turned to face her. "It's not just about burying Claudiu. I need to prove to everybody that I'm ready to lead, because a lot of the nobles who will eventually vote on my fitness to be queen will be there. I need to do this right for Lucius."

  I couldn't even let myself consider that we might not get to that vote.

  "Hey, Jess!" Min grabbed my shoulders and shook them. "You're the girl who led the Woodrow Wilson math geeks to regional semifinals—and remember the year that cow you raised, Stinky, went all the way to the state farm show?"

  "His name was Sammie," I corrected her. "You just called him Stinky."

  All at once the total absurdity of our conversation—not to mention how pathetic my "accomplishments" were—seemed to strike us both, and all my stress came bursting out in a wave of hysterical laughter that swept up Mindy, too. We both cracked up until I cried. Then I cried until I really cried, and Min hugged me, promising, "It's gonna be okay, Jess. Lucius is gonna be okay. And you're gonna do this today. You will."

  It wasn't even a matter of doing a great job, I realized. We probably both knew that just getting through the funeral would be a victory. "I hope so."

  Min was just letting me go when somebody knocked on the door, and I pulled myself together enough to call, "Come in."

  Of course, it would be Dorin and Ylenia, coming to make sure I got to the funeral okay. But after I wiped my eyes again, I saw that my uncle was carrying something in his arms, cradling it like a baby. Feeling even more sick at heart, not wanting to laugh at all anymore, I looked up at Min and, even though I wanted her to stay, told her, "I think you better go now." Because althoug
h she was in love with a vampire and had seen me shed and drink blood at my wedding, I didn't want her to see me drink it like this.

  Chapter 55

  Antanasia

  "I DON'T KNOW... Maybe I should wait until after the funeral."

  But Dorin was already pouring thick, almost black liquid into a small silver cup that reminded me of one I'd held under my opened wrist before my wedding so Lucius could drink my blood at the ceremony. I wished they'd brought a different glass. "No, no, Antanasia," he protested in his mild way. But his hand shook as he poured, like he wasn't certain this was right, either. "I don't think it's wise to wait. You need strength for this day." As if I would care, he added, "And this is a wonderful vintage from the cellars. Many would love to taste this!"

  I needed blood, but I looked at the cup with aversion. "It's not about the taste."

  Ylenia stepped forward then and said to Dorin, "Give us a moment, please? Will you?"

  "Yes, of course." My uncle seemed happy to recede into a corner. "Take your time."

  Ylenia stepped closer and spoke too quietly for Dorin to hear. "He doesn't understand what you're feeling, because I don't think he's ever been in love."