“Two.”
He presses his lips tight together and meets my eyes. “I can kill them before they know I’m there.”
Sensing hesitancy, I ask. “But…you don’t want to?”
“Báthory’s personal guards are one thing,” he says, torn. “They’re definitely complicit in her crimes. But these men, how much do they know? I can’t exactly interrogate them before I strike.”
“Could you incapacitate them instead?”
“That’s riskier, but yes, probably.”
Perhaps he just needs permission. “I support you, whatever you decide.” I wish Janos were here. Killing doesn’t seem to affect him the way it affects Bowie. “Or I could do it?”
“No,” he says immediately. “I don’t want your morals compromised, and anyway, my speed is what’s needed. Come, let’s get it over with.”
Bowie vanishes around the corner. By the time I catch up, it’s already done. The guards lie slumped on the stone floor, their hearts still beating, but for how long, I can’t say. We continue past them to a divide in the corridor.
“Which way?” asks Bowie.
Cecily has been both ways, but the scent is strongest to the right. I take the lead, pausing at each closed door to inhale. We’re definitely in ladies’ quarters now.
A thick rug, patterned in red and gold swirls, cushions this hall. No expense had been spared on the furniture and decor. Polished wooden display tables line the wall. Vases, knickknacks, and sculptures decorate their surfaces, gleaming under the light of an excessive number of lit sconces. The aroma of heated oil mixes with rose, lavender, and mint.
I find her door. My heart races, battering my ribcage. The wolf is triumphant, a scent expertly tracked and successful in its conclusion. “She’s here.”
Bowie clutches his chest with one hand and reaches for the knob with the other. It begins to turn, then stops. Locked. I think of the skeleton keys tucked away in Janos’s sleeve and again wish he were here.
“I could force it,” says Bowie. “But the noise.”
“Which is louder? Breaking down the door or knocking?”
“Generally, I’d say breaking down the door, but Cecily sleeps like the dead. I’d have to knock so loud I’d wake the entire hall.”
“Force it, then. I’ll stand guard. If there’s trouble, we’ll snatch her and run.”
“What of the others?”
“We come back for them once she’s safe.”
Bowie nods. “Stand back.”
Stepping away from the door, I watch as Bowie delivers a powerful kick directly by the knob. Splintering wood shatters the silence. The bolt breaks clear through the catch plate, and the door slams open.
Loudly.
Bowie races into the room while I hover at the threshold checking for guards. No way that wasn’t heard but triangulating where the sound came from may just give us enough time to clear out undetected.
Inside, Cecily has startled awake. The sight of her blonde curls in my periphery sends a jolt of mind-numbing relief to my brain. I’m so overwhelmed my knees threaten to buckle.
Before she knows what’s happening, she’s in Bowie’s arms. Her reflexive struggle is short-lived when she realizes it’s her uncle come to save her.
“Bowie!” her shrill voice echoes too loud.
Bowie claps a hand over her mouth. She takes him in with wide eyes, and he drops it.
“How?” she whispers.
“We’ll talk later.” Bowie kisses her cheek.
