She supposed some part of her had thought it might be locked again, but as she stared into the hall beyond, she saw no light, only shadow.
She stepped into the north wing, heartbeat loud in her ears, and looked at the hall ahead, and then the one to her left. Taking a deep breath, she turned left, following the hall she’d taken before, though this time there was no light ahead, just darkness beyond her candle’s glow.
The castle was silent around her as she walked. The fine hair along her arms stood on end in the eerie quiet. There was a pressure on her chest that made it difficult to breathe, a sense that something was wrong, that something was unnatural about this emptiness, but she pushed the feeling aside.
The first room she came upon was on the right of the hall—the door was open, the room dark within. She glanced behind her, down the path she’d taken, seeing no sign of anyone. Then she faced the room, gripping the poker tightly in her right hand, and pushed the door open further.
The large space was sparse of furniture, and she quickly realized this was the same room she’d hidden within that first time here. But now, with a light in hand, she could see that the walls were covered in paintings—a gallery of sorts. Along thebottom of the wall, shadows of further art were propped up, not yet hung.
She stepped further into the room, curiosity tugging at her. She set the iron poker down, resting it against the wall, and lifted her candle up to get a better view of the images. The first was a painting of the castle, and written in the bottom right corner, in delicate cursive, wasCastelul Draculea, 1625.
Mina took another few steps toward the next image, finding this one to be a painting of the Count surrounded by three women. He sat in a chair in the middle, and just behind him stood a woman with hair ink-black, tendrils coming down about her face, emphasizing the hollowness of her cheeks and the intensity in her eyes. There was something about her, about the way her hand was placed on his chest, that was possessive, and Mina couldn’t help but wonder how he knew this woman.
Her eyes wandered to the woman at his right, to her heart-shaped face and the fiery red hair falling down her back as she looked toward the painter with her head tilted just slightly. But when Mina glanced at the third woman to the left side of the painting, she stilled. This woman had long blonde hair that was fine as silk, her lips full, her eyes sparkling blue.
Mina had seen this woman before. But where?
She took a step back, her heart thrumming as she tried to dig through her memories. This woman, who was this woman? She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though the image was there,just barely out of grasp. In her mind’s eye, she could see dim candlelight, she could feel her fear and confusion.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Mina spun around, finding a dark-haired woman in the doorway, a slight smile on her face as though she were amused. She was one of the women from the painting.
“Who are you?” Mina asked, breathless. After all this time of being made to believe it was only them in the castle, made to believe she’d imagined the things she’d experienced, she was almost startled to see this woman here before her.
“It seems the little mouse has lost her way,” the woman said.
Mina’s heart thrummed, fear building within her. Had this been the woman she’d encountered that night, the one who’d left behind that book? Had this been the woman who’d written the note? The one who’d lured her into the courtyard and opened the gates for the wolves?
Another woman stepped into the doorway, her hair wild and red—the other woman from the painting. She felt light-headed at the sight of them, here. Something was wrong—she could feel it. There was a reason they were in that painting with the Count, and there was a reason he’d kept them separate.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” the redhead said, crinkling her nose.
“I suppose we need a closer look,” the first woman said, easing forward. Her movements reminded Mina of a cat prowling toward a mouse.
“So you’re the precious Wilhelmina,” the woman said, coming within a few feet of her now. They knew her name. Had they been the ones behind the door, whispering her name like a chant?
“Who are you?” Mina repeated, afraid to receive the answer.
“My dear,” the woman said, reaching out slowly and brushing a finger down her cheek. “We’re you.”
“Leave her be,” came another voice.
Mina looked to the doorway to see a blonde woman.
“You,” Mina whispered. And then it came back to her—the night of the raid, she had seen this woman. She had spoken to her. But what had happened? She couldn’t recall the details, only feeling such surety thatthishad been the woman she’d encountered that night.
“Why should we?” the redhead snapped. “We’ve been patient long enough.” She looked at Mina then, anticipation burning in her eyes. They’d been patient long enough forwhat?
“You’ll pay the price when he returns,” the blonde woman said. “You know the rules.”
“Forget the rules,” the raven-haired woman replied. “He’s taken too long. This isn’t just about him. It’s about all of us.” The woman turned back, fixing her eyes on Mina. “Besides, she came to us.”
He.Were they referring to the Count?
“She’s already broken the rules,” the redhead chimed in, coming nearer. “Why can’t we?” She smiled, but it was then that Mina noticed something strange—the woman’s teeth had seemed to sharpen at the edges like fangs. Mina stepped back, horrified by the sight, and the two women nearest her laughed.
Then, the dark-haired woman knocked the candle out of her hand. It dropped to the ground with a heavythud, the light extinguishing and leaving them in shadow, with only the dim glow of moonlight spilling in through the window.
