That was all the way on the eastern side of the country. Miles and miles away. Days.
Huck warily eyed a crow cage above us and said, “How do you know your ring is the real one?”
“As I told you, I can sense that our ring has power. The markings on it are very old. But whether it is the ring Rothwild thinks he wants, I could not say. He is the expert on Vlad Dracula and the Holy Roman Emperor who founded a secret fraternal organization, one that Rothwild and his colleagues want to revive. One that gave Vlad’s father his family name—the Order of the Dragon.”
Adrenaline raced through me. My father had made several notes about this medieval order. “They were a militant group, created to stop the Ottoman government from invading and taking over Eastern Europe.”
“A threat that doesn’t exist today, as the Ottoman Empire fell nearly two decades ago. Rothwild’s motives for reviving the order likely center on occult secrets to amass power. I don’t know how many people are involved in this pet project of his, but they are experimenting with dark things that they do not understand.”
That sounded... vaguely terrifying. Some part of my brain was intrigued and wanted to know more, but I tried to focus on why we came here.
“Did you give my father the ring?” I asked.
“And have him hand it over to Rothwild and his cultists? Never,” Lovena said, shaking her head. “After Mr. Fox and the Frenchman left this summer, I gave it to my sister. As it was, I couldn’t bear to have it in my house—its power was too loud. Enough to drive anyone mad. My sister isn’t sensitive to these things, so it didn’t bother her. She promised to keep it safe, though I’m worried now that I’ve made a mistake....”
“Where is my father now?” I asked.
“Probably in Sighi?oara,” she said, pronouncing it likeSiggy-shora. “That is north of here, in the Carpathians.”
Something sparked inside my head. “That’s the birthplace of Vlad ?epe?, isn’t it? A medieval citadel.”
She nodded. “Indeed it is, yes. My family home is also there, though not as famous as Vlad’s perhaps, and so is my sister. She has married into Hungarian money and is a baroness—Lady Maria Kardos. That is what I told Mr. Fox, and that is where he seemed intent on going when he left my home.”
A tightness inside me loosened. My father was alive, he was here yesterday, and we knew where he was going; all we had to do was catch up. I didn’t know how far away this town was that she spoke of, but maybe Father was still there....
Huck was relieved too. He gave my fingers a quick squeeze on the couch between us, and I squeezed back. Then a noise above caused us both to look up at the birdcages.
“Do you really talk to animals?” Huck asked.
“Do you believe such a thing is possible?” Lovena asked in a voice that was almost playful, teasing. Yet also challenging.
“I’m... not sure,” Huck answered.
“Some call me a wisewoman, baba, mother of the forest... pagan. Some call me a crow witch,” she said, lifting her chin to the cages above. “But I will tell you a secret. I am not special. Magic is in every natural thing. It waits in the grass, and it blossoms in flowers. It’s concentrated inside metals, deep within the earth, and it’s carried on the wind. Magic will speak to anyone who takes the time to listen.”
“But animals?” Huck said. “I don’t—”
“Animals, humans... we are all made of blood,” she said, running a nail along a vein in her hand. “Thatis where magic is plentiful. When magic is plentiful, it is easy to hear, if you have sensitive ears and a willingness to listen.” She leaned forward and squinted at Huck. “I am a good listener. Where I was born, in Transylvania—the land beyond the forest—is rich with magic. It makes the dead rise. And it gives the living power. Our blood is vibrant.”
“Blood, eh?” he murmured, looking a little pallid. He tried to smile and said, “Truth be told, it’s not my favorite thing in the world. Prefer it when it’s on the inside.”
“Blood is everything,” she said. “Magic in the blood can be heard, which is where my talents lie. Some are deaf to its voice but are able to force results using old rituals. Wonderworkers, they were called. Occult magicians. They knew methods to take blood from a living thing and forge it into something new.”
“Into a magical object,” I said, intensely interested. “I’ve read about that in a few books....”
“Theory is one thing,” she said, “but in practice, this is hard to do, a rare talent. Maybe one in many thousand could even do it. Maybe one in a million. But likely it’s how Vlad Dracula’s bone ring was made—by bone and by blood.”
Huck shuddered. “The dark arts.”
“Depends on the intent. Like anything, it can be abused.” Mama Lovena picked up a fallen feather and ran it through her fingers. “So, to answer your question... I am a good listener and a good conduit. But you don’t need to fear me. My interests are always with the forest and the animals in it. People, I can take or leave.”
Huck chuckled and nervously rubbed his palms along his trousers.
Lovena turned to me and held out her hand. Her fingers crooked. “Please. I am curious.”
“You want to read my palm?”
“I want to listen to your blood.” A small smile lifted her lips as she winked at me. “It is not as bad as it sounds. I am no vampire. Not yet, at least. When I die, who knows. Maybe my fool of a sister will fail to bury me properly, and I’ll enjoy haunting her.”
