Several politicians acquired it. And a pope. Oh, and the son of a Turkish sultan. Actually, it was rumored to have left Europe and crossed into the Ottoman Empire twice. The first time was a few months after Vlad ?epe? was beheaded; the Hungarian king Matthias Corvinus sent it to the Turks in exchange for Vlad’s head. The second time, it was secreted away in a mosque for five years in the 1800s before they wanted nothing more to do with it and sent it back to Wallachia.
That’s what I’m most interested in—that second time it returned to Europe.
Where did the Turks send it?
11
WE WALKED AROUND BUCHAREST FORwhat seemed like a lifetime to make sure Sarkany wasn’t tailing us. Then it took a second lifetime to find another taxi that would take us back to Hotel Regina. By the time we got up to our room, it was almost eleven o’clock. Both of us looked and felt like drowned sewer rats and took turns in the bathroom, changing into dry clothes. My coat was probably ruined. I dried it off as well as I could and hung it up, hoping for the best.
Trying to clear my head of both the shock of the murder scene and of seeing Mr. Sarkany again, I stood in front of our balcony doors, peering out over the busy boulevard’s bright lights. Across the street, rows of city rooftops were still wet with rain and shining in the moonlight. I shivered while my hair dried, wishing the hotel would turn on the heat, and then I tried to figure out what to do next.
No, we didn’t find my father tonight. But at least we found out a few things. We learned that the widow, Natasha, dabbled in the occult. Which was interesting. And that my father’s notes had mentioned a photograph hanging inside her house that showed her cozied up to Rothwild. That was doubly interesting. Were Natasha and Rothwild lovers? Was he aware of her extracurricular esoteric interests? Or was the picture my father saw merely a random photograph from a random event?
Maybe Natasha Anca was a dead end, both figuratively and literally.
Except Sarkany and his dog were there.
And Sarkany and his dog had killed her.
Why? I dug my father’s journal out of my handbag and flipped through the pages, trying to spot something that would help me understand or point me toward something that could.
“Ugh. I can’t stop thinking about all that blood,” Huck said as he toweled off his hair. “A dog tore out that poor woman’s throat.”
“Seems so, yes,” I said.
“Not just any dog. The white wolf dog. I told you that man was dangerous.”
“You did.”
“And I told you that wolf dog of his was a beast.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then why do you have that damned journal in your hands? What more do you need to see to know that this is all a terrible, dangerous game? We can’t play—we don’t even know the rules! Only Fox did, and he’s not here.”
“No, he’s not here!” I shouted back at him, suddenly angry and scared at the same time. “Don’t you get it? Something is wrong, Huck. Really, terribly wrong. We need to find him. The widow couldn’t help us, so we need to follow Father’s path to the ring—just like he said in the journal.”
“The same one that says one of the people he questioned last summer was a hermit? Have you lost your mind? I amnottracking down some hermit in the middle of nowhere.” With a flick of his wrist, he threw the wet towel he’d been using on the floor. “That’s a fool’s journey, banshee, and I’m no fool.”
“Well, maybeIam,” I snapped. “Because my father is in trouble, and I’m not going to twiddle my thumbs in a stupid hotel room, hoping he’ll come back. I’m going to find him.”
“Oh, are you, now? You’re going to ride out into the night like Grace O’Malley on horseback just to prove something? Do you know how stupid that is?”
“Don’t really care.” I lifted the leather journal. “Follow the ring, find my father. That is the official plan now. If you want to leave, fine. Leave. I’ll find him by myself.”
“With what money? We’re nearly broke!”
“I’ll sell something. Or send a cable to Father’s accountant and ask him to wire me cash.”
“Mr. Fitzgerald?Pfft.Good luck with that. When we were in Tokat, Fox mentioned he was somewhere in Canada, hiking up a mountain. You’ll never reach him.”
Not for the last time, I was incensed that Huck had been gone for an entire year and still managed to know more about my father’s work than I did.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, a little flustered but also too worked up to give in now. “I’ll think of something. Whatever it takes. I’m going to find Father, and he’s going to be fine, and maybe I’ll even find Vlad’s cursed ring, too.”
“Ugh. You sound just like him. You know that? Stupidly stubborn.”
“Whatever. Better to be stubborn than give up.”
