Raoul stared down at the plaque mounted on a gold-painted post. “Al right, I’l buy that. But only because you two are the types who make it your job to know. Did you also know that when she shows up to haunt the place, she heralds her entrance with the scent of her favorite perfume?”
“Which is?” I asked.
“Violets,” Raoul said.
“Nope, we missed that. But we’re not surprised. Are we, Vayl?” I asked as my
Vayl came over to stand by us. “Nothing the queen did would raise my eyebrows,” he told us.
“Good,” replied Raoul. “Because I’m about to bring her here, and I suspect she’d see that as a sign of weakness.”
“What happened to opening a doorway?” Vayl asked, his voice deepening with frustration.
“The queen wil take you through if you talk fast enough,” said Raoul. He eyed Vayl. “You look frightening enough to curdle milk. I suggest you let Jaz take this one.” Before Vayl could reply he went on. “Marie is a queen, so she’l probably travel with a retinue. I have no idea how many she’l bring with her, but they’l be hungry.” His eyes wandered to Aaron as he finished. “I suggest you stay inside the room until the meeting’s over.”
“Why would we leave?” asked Aaron.
“You could be forced out,” Raoul said. “And for my protection to work at maximum strength right now it can’t extend beyond these four wal s.” He gestured at the wal paper as Aaron began looking for something sturdy to hang on to. Then he said, “As soon as she’s accepted your deal, you’l be al right. But until then, be vigilant.”
“I was a Boy Scout,” Aaron offered. “Is that anything like ‘Be prepared’?” I crossed my arms. “That al depends. What are you preparing to do?” He shrugged. I said, “Wel whatever it is, just don’t touch the ghosts. Nothing enrages them more than to be touched by the living. They’l morph from gracious conversationalists into parasitic bloodsuckers right before your eyes. I’ve known them to slice arteries with rage alone. So, you know, if you can’t figure out how to be prepared. At least be polite.” CHAPTER TWELVE
While we set up for the queen’s visit, the other (better?) half of our crew took the short hike to Pelisor’s older and oh-baby-grander brother, Peles.
Astral’s video combined with the Party Line and vivid descriptions by members of what later came to be cal ed the “Bergman Got Bal s Expedition” revealed that security around a museum ful of priceless artifacts just oozing stories related to Romania’s colorful history is as tight as a miser at Christmas. Which was why they didn’t bother knocking. They parked just off of Str. Pelesului and hit the tree line. Dave and Jack took the lead. Cassandra fol owed with Astral at her heels, Bergman at her shoulder, and Cole at her back, his gun drawn but hanging at his side.
“Is that real y going to be necessary?” hissed Bergman, his eyes darting nervously from Cole’s nine-mil imeter Beretta Storm to the moonlit pines surrounding them and beyond, to Peles Castle, which sat in its val ey to their right, sparkling like an amulet ful of diamonds.
“Absolutely,” Cole whispered. “Because you never know when we might be attacked by a horde of Vlad’s impalers. Just imagine it, Miles. Three hundred screaming warriors on horseback, their faces painted with the blood of their enemies, their lances set to pin us against these trees here like a couple of scarecrows.”
“That’s just… Would you stop with the ridiculousness? That’s not even how it happened back then.”
Cole shrugged. “Like I’d know. I spent my entire History class trying to convince the teacher that my dad actual y found Hitler while he was stil alive and that he was the one who shot him. And that my mom was real y Eva Braun. Almost had him convinced too. Then he saw the three of us together at a wrestling tournament, figured out my folks weren’t even alive during World War Two and the whole game col apsed.” Cole sighed. “It was fun while it lasted, though.”
“Shut up back there,” Dave said. “We’re supposed to be skirting security, and it’s gonna be kind of tough to pul off stealth mode while we’re al laughing.”
Cole grinned as Bergman gave him a dirty look, which seemed especial y to be aimed at his Beretta.
“It’s just a precaution,” Cole reassured him. “I promise if I have to, I’l shoot the guns out of their hands just like in the old Westerns.”
“And then wil you sing to them like Roy Rogers used to do?” whispered Cassandra.
“Only if you buy me a white shirt with fringe
They al stopped and stared down at Bergman’s robokitty, who had paused when she noticed Cassandra do the same. She looked up at them and said, “Ghost Riders in the Sky.”
“What does that even mean?” asked Cole as he peered off into the dark, cupping his shooting hand with his free one and pul ing the Beretta up to shoulder height. He went stil , raising his nose as if sniffing the air.
Dave motioned for them to stand perfectly stil . Moments later he and Jack had disappeared into the pines.
“Wow,” whispered Bergman. “He’s good.”
“He’d better be back soon,” Cole final y whispered.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked.
“Something’s here.”
Bergman slapped his hands against his cheeks like he was trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. “How can you tel ?”
Cole rol ed his shoulders as if he suddenly felt the need to stay loose. “It’s hard to describe. It’s like the back of my brain itches. Sometimes, just by the way it’s irritated, I can tel what’s set me off.
Like a vampire. Or a fairy. But this time”—he shook his head—“I’m not quite sure.” Bergman stepped to his
