While the smell indicated that the stable recently contained horses, all the stalls were empty, to Marty’s dismay. Since he’d been drained and hadn’t been allowed to feed in a week, he truly was hungry enough to eat a horse, making me glad none of the beautiful animals were here.
We weren’t in the stables anymore, though. We were about a quarter mile away in Rend’s car, the heater turned on full blast. He’d parked it inside a nearby tree line, still giving us a clear view of the stables so that we’d see when Vlad’s people showed up. It was also a safer place to wait if unwelcome vampires arrived. After searching Rend’s incoming and outgoing cell log, it looked like he checked in around every four hours, but what if he’d been expected to report to Szilagyi sooner about his “progress” with me? I intended to search through his bones to see if I could find that out, and find out whether or not Maximus, Shrapnel, and any others survived the fight. First, Marty explained to me that Castle Poenari was the home Vlad rebuilt during his initial reign as Prince of Wallachia—and the same place where his wife killed herself.
As if those memories wouldn’t be enough to keep him away, the ruins of Castle Poenari were also another Dracula tourist attraction. Much as I hated Szilagyi, I had to admire his cleverness. Of all the ruins Vlad had his people searching, they probably avoided ones where the Dracula legend was hawked like snake oil because they shared Vlad’s loathing of that. Plus, who would’ve expected Szilagyi to make his underground nest in the former home of the vampire he was trying to kill? Twisted didn’t even begin to cover it.
“I am so Googling ‘Vlad Dracul’ once this is all over,” I stated. “Wikipedia knows more about his past than I do.”
Marty grunted. “You won’t like what you find.” Then his look became jaded. “Especially since you’re sleeping with him.”
My cheek heated but I didn’t glance away. “Szilagyi told you that?”
“No, my nose did. When we were in the trunk together, I could smell him on you even over the chloroform Rend dosed you with. They did, too. That’s probably why they didn’t believe that you’d really betrayed him.”
“They knew before,” I replied, shrugging. “I told Szilagyi that Vlad seduced me to further cement me to his side.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” Marty muttered.
I stiffened. “It should because it’s not true. Look, I don’t blame you for disliking Vlad. He impaled you and coerced you—both unforgivable. Still, there’s another side to him.”
“Sure,” Marty replied flatly. “The side that burns people to death.”
I opened my mouth to reply, and then paused. Now wasn’t the time to defend my relationship with Vlad. I’d have to continue this conversation later.
“Give me the skull.”
He passed it over and I took my glove off, grimacing. In true death, Rend had shriveled so much that he looked mummified, but enough bits of skin and hair clung to the skull to make touching it unappealing. Still, I ran my right hand over it. As expected, Rend’s worst sin made his torturing me look innocent by comparison. The next memory was his death—always a standout event for people—and I felt dark satisfaction seeing it replay before me. Then came countless images as his life passed in front of my eyes with incomprehensible speed.
Discovering Maximus, Shrapnel, and the other guards’ fates plus finding out if Rend was supposed to check in sooner than normal with Szilagyi would be like looking for specific snowflakes in an avalanche, but I had to try. Everything I needed to know had happened earlier today. I’d start at Rend’s last memory and then work my way backward, if possible. I rubbed his skull, trying to will forth the image of his death. It flickered in front of me before fading, replaced by another unintelligible mess. I tried again, concentrating, and the dark blue interior of the car abruptly fell away.
A cord of pure white lashed out, slicing through Rend’s shoulders as easily as a sword through water . . . Me, streaked with blood, writhing under the point of an ivory knife . . . Marty’s anguish as silver knives drove into his flesh . . . Me and Marty in a trunk, him restrained with silver, me with rope . . . A large hall decorated in pastel hues, its opulence marred by glass, blood, and multiple bodies on the ground . . . Two vampires being forced into a van, both of them pierced with silver harpoons. One was bald and dark-skinned, the other pale with shoulder-length blond hair . . .
“They’re alive!” I shouted, so excited I dropped the link.
“You can tell that already?” Marty asked in disbelief.
He had a point. I’d spent days unsuccessfully trying to glean more details from the bones of the vampires who’d attacked the club. Why were Rend’s memories so much easier to navigate? Only one thing had changed since then. Like a magnifying glass could amplify a ray of sunshine, drinking large quantities of vampire blood must kick my psychic abilities into hyper drive. I’d already seen what it did to my voltage, but I hadn’t expected it to affect my other powers. I didn’t want to dwell on the ramifications of that because it brought up possibilities I wasn’t ready to consider. Instead, I touched Rend’s skull again, focusing my energy on that last image I’d seen of Maximus and Shrapnel. It took two tries, but once I found it, I centered my attention on seeing what came before that . . . and before that . . .
I let out a gasp that had Marty demanding, “What, what?” while shaking me.
I dropped the link—and the skull—to grasp Marty’s hand.
“We need to go to Castle Poenari.”