Although, he doesn’t have fangs when he smiles.
And he’s out during the day.
Is he a familiar?I wonder, aware of the lore that vampires keep human lackeys.Is that how he booked this tour? Have I been… set up?
“You mentioned being a tour guide,” I say slowly. “But where are you from again?”
“Nowhere near here,” he murmurs.
That’s not a helpful answer. In fact, it feels intentionally vague. “If you’re not from anywhere nearby, then how have you managed to secure a tour with a private estate?”
He glances sideways at me, his lips curling up on one side. “Does it matter?”
Not really, I nearly admit. Instead, I ask a question I think I may already know the answer to. “Do you know someone inside Negru Castle?”
His focus returns to the road. “I know many individuals, Ms. Dalca.”
Individuals,notpeople. That… feels specific. And yet intentionally vague again, too. “Do you know Count Negru?”
“Count Negru?” he repeats, his brow furrowing. “Is that his rumored name?”
“His?” I echo.
Marius’s jaw clenches. “Are we playing a word game, Ms. Dalca?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Scaevola. Are we?”
He says nothing for a beat, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “You’re not going to jump out of my car, right?”
I look out the window at the surrounding forest. “That wouldn’t end well for me.”
“Nor me,” he mutters. “So please don’t try it.”
“Worried about the mess?” I wonder aloud, studying him again.
“Something like that.” He’s no longer smiling, his humor seeming to have died as our conversation turned real.
“You’re not a tour guide, are you?” It’s more of a rhetorical question at this point. I should be terrified. Thinking of an escape plan. Texting Gaby.Something.
But I started ignoring my self-preservation instincts when I began obsessing over Count Negru.
“Do you want a real answer, or a playful one, Ms. Dalca?” he asks, once again avoiding my inquiry. But I don’t need an answer to the tour guide query. I know he’s something—orsomeone—other.
“A real answer to a legitimate question,” I counter. “Doesheknow we’re coming? The Lord of Negru Castle? Or whatever his name is these days?”
“The one called Count Negru?”
“That’s my nickname for him,” I admit. “Because none of the records actually depict a first name. They’re all variations oflordandkingin other languages.” That’s something I determined early on in my research while pulling the property deeds. “He changes it when he transfers the estate to the next generation.”
Marius smirks. But it’s not the carefree, teasing grin from earlier. This is a bit more sinister. “You speak of these things without any fear.”
“Because I’ve been researching his existence for years. I know he exists. And I know what he is.”
“And what’s that?”
“A vampire,” I reply without hesitation.
“Hmm,” he hums. “An interesting assertion.”
