“Pleaca de aici should do it,” he said.
I had him repeat it a few times and then I gathered my magic, unspooling it and wrapping it around my hands. I pushed, shouting PLEACA DE AICI in my head.
The ghost zoomed back into her room and disappeared.
“Thanks. That worked,” I said. “Wait. How do you see them? I thought vampires couldn’t see ghosts.”
His mustache twitched. “Haven’t you read the stories about me? I am extraordinary.”
I gave him my squinty look. “That’s not it.”
His expression darkened, his eyes turning black, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Cut it out. You’re not really angry.”
His hands went to his hips as he glared. “What makes you think I won’t take your head for gainsaying me?”
I couldn’t very well tell him that my necromancy allowed me to pick up on his emotions, so I just shrugged. “I know things. Do you carry wicche blood?”
His expression turned thunderous.
I had a moment to worry I’d read him completely wrong before it fell away.
“I do. On my mother’s side. Not much, though. Just enough to see ghosts.” He studied me a moment. “Has Léna visited you yet?”
“Léna? You’ve seen her too?” Relief washed over me. I wasn’t alone in this haunted madhouse.
He tipped his head down the hall to the left of the stairs, a direction I’d never gone in a dream. A door stood open and he waved me in, closing it behind us.
Oh. This was Vlad’s room. The walls were papered in a dark pattern. Wood floors had been put in. A large bed stood to the side, but Vlad walked to the far wall, tapped a button, and the fire roared to life. Beside the hearth was one chair and one sofa, with a coffee table in between. Bookshelves lined a wall. Around the fireplace were mounted swords, axes, assorted daggers, and a mace.
“Kind of a fun warlord chic vibe you’ve got going here,” I said, plopping down on the couch.
Vlad took the chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. “So happy you approve,” he grumbled.
“Why are you down here, away from all the other vamps?” The fire felt nice after the chill of a ghost plastered to me.
“You answered your own question.” He shook his head. “I hate this place. I told them not to buy it, that we could find any number of abandoned castles to turn into Guild headquarters. Unfortunately, as I’m the only one who sees ghosts—not that I’ve told them that—I was outvoted. They wanted to be closer to a city and an airport.”
I sniffed the couch but didn’t pick up a rodent scent. “How do you keep the rats out?” I kept glancing into shadowy corners for tiny black eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “You read Stoker. Don’t you remember? I control rats.”
I rolled my eyes at that.
“Fine,” he said. “My kind repels living things—except you, apparently.”
“Wrong again. Our dog Fergus loves Clive.” Maybe Vlad repelled things, but Clive didn’t. Then again, Clive had said he missed riding horses, that they didn’t tolerate vampires.
“And what kind of dog is Fergus?” he asked, relaxing into the conversation.
“Irish Wolfhound. We brought him back from Wales, along with his dragon friend Fyr.” That wasn’t a secret, was it? There was something about Vlad that made me spill more than I should have.
I put down the box and book on the coffee table and pulled up photos on my phone, showing him Fergus. He was on the beach, at the end of one of our runs, the ocean behind him.
Vlad leaned forward to see the image and nodded, “A very handsome beast.” He was quiet for a moment. “Why again?”
“Hmm?”
