Clumps of snow dotted my hair and my clothing. Thomas pushed himself off me, slowly scanning the area. I noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the way he tensed for any further attack. He took my hand and helped me up. “Hurry. I don’t see anyone, but someone’s definitely out there.”

I searched for a shadow or silhouette of the gunman. There was nothing but lingering smoke and the acrid scent of gunpowder. This time when I shivered, it had nothing to do with the ice sliding down my spine. We ran toward the yellow light of the kitchens, not looking back until we were safely inside and Thomas had kicked the door shut. I collapsed against a long wooden table, barely missing a few mounds of rising dough.

“Who do you—”

The door banged open and a rather husky figure stomped snow from his boots, musket slung over his back. Thomas and I both grabbed for knives from the counter. The figure moved forward, oblivious to the cutlery now aimed at him. With a swift movement, his hood was tossed back. Radu blinked at us.

“Mr. Cresswell. Miss Wadsworth.” He removed the musket from his shoulder and leaned it against a trestle table. On it sat a bowl of stew, steam still rising from its center, and a hunk of bread torn into a few pieces. “I warned you about the woods. Hmm?” Radu pulled a stool out and sat, tucking into his late-night meal. “Run along back to your chambers. If Moldoveanu discovers you’ve left the castle, you’ll wish the wolves had gotten to you first. Dangerous. Very dangerous what you did. Pricolici everywhere.”

Thomas and I didn’t so much as exchange a glance as we apologized and ran for the door.

Post-mortem kit, c. 1800s.

PERCY’S SURGICAL THEATER

AMFITEATRUL DE CHIRURGIE AL LUI PERCY

BRAN CASTLE

21 DECEMBER 1888

“I will be leading today’s lesson in place of Professor Percy.” Moldoveanu pointed up at the Bianchi twins. “If you’d still like to perform this task, I suggest you come to the operating table.”

Without further prompting, the twins rushed down to the surgical stage and took their places. Even though our academy was seemingly under attack, there was still the matter of the assessment course and those two, tantalizing seats we were all fighting for.

Giovanni did an exceptional job creating a taut surface for his blade to slide across. His twin handed him a forensic breadknife after he’d opened up the body of the slain maid, Mariana. He carefully removed her liver, noting the same discoloration that had been present in Anastasia’s corpse. Giovanni used the long knife to shear off a sample and placed it on a slide. It seemed an awful thing for a medical tool to be called a breadknife when its purpose was to carve into specimens and not baked goods.

Cian had offered to conduct this postmortem, but the twins insisted on doing it. Since they’d discovered the maid’s body, they’d felt a duty to assist her in death. An uneasy feeling was present in the theater with us; it was difficult to study the bloodless bodies. Having Moldoveanu lead this lesson didn’t help the heavy atmosphere. His expression was harder than usual, an added shield he wore since the discovery of his ward’s remains. I had wanted to offer condolences before class, but the threat in his gaze stayed my tongue.

“Excellent technique.” Moldoveanu adjusted his apron. “Like the other cadavers, this one is also missing its blood, as I’m sure you all can see. Why, if you were to hazard a guess, do you believe the murderer is taking the blood?”

Noah’s hand was the first in the air. “Local papers are saying the Impaler Lord has returned. Villagers are panicking. It’s someone who enjoys the fear, I think. Death and murder aren’t the satisfying part. It’s the hysteria surrounding them.”

“Interesting theory. Where do you suppose they’re disposing of the blood once it’s been taken, then?”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “There’s a river close to the village. Maybe they dump it there.”

“Perhaps.” Moldoveanu lifted a shoulder. “Let’s see who’s read ahead in their anatomy texts. How many quarts of blood are in the human body? Anyone?”

“Five… maybe… a little more… depending on the size of the person,” Erik said.

“Correct. Which is around one gallon.” Moldoveanu walked around the body, attention landing on each of us. “That is quite a decent amount of blood to transport through the village. Though not impossible, yes?”

“Could be too risky, though,” Noah added. “Even if it was carried in a wooden bucket, the possibility of it sloshing over the sides would exist. Plus, if anyone noticed it, the villagers might sound the alert.”

“Indeed. Though a seemingly excellent depository for the blood, the river poses too great a threat to this particular murderer. He strikes me as the sort of person who does not wish to be stopped. He is careful. He has likely been plotting this for quite some time. I believe he has a history of violent acts, beginning in childhood. Though others will claim this to be of no consequence, I find it a useful tool to consider the history of the perpetrator.”

Moldoveanu motioned for the twins to continue with the postmortem. Giovanni removed a bit of the stomach. Its contents would be examined for signs of arsenic, though a familiar garlic odor already hung in the air. I glanced around the room; each student was carefully scribbling notes, their focus more intense under the watchful gaze of the headmaster.

I tried thinking back on my conversations with Anastasia, convinced there had to be some indication of what she’d discovered about the scene in the missing woman’s house. I hated thinking of her traveling into the village alone and meeting her doom. But I didn’t even know if she’d made it that far. For all I knew, she never made it past the tunnels in which her body had been found. Was the murderer someone in this room, and if so, who would have been able to dispose of that much blood so quickly?

I surreptitiously inspected Andrei and Nicolae, who quietly spoke to each other in Romanian. They could be working together, though I cautioned myself to not focus entirely on them and miss other clues.

My attention strayed to the Bianchi twins. I recalled Anastasia remarking on how they ignored her attempts at chatting. Was one of them the person she’d been intrigued by? If disposing of the blood was too much of a risk for a single individual to handle, did that point to the two of them working together? They were very good at forensics and likely had ample knowledge of poisons. Perhaps it also wasn’t a coincidence that they’d discovered the maid’s body.

I glanced toward Thomas. He was already watching me, head cocked to one side as if he were reading my thoughts. We hadn’t known what to make of Radu the other night, and we couldn’t talk afterward due to the guards patrolling the corridors. We had been fortunate to make it to our chambers without being caught.

I still couldn’t believe that Radu had saved us from predatory wolves in the dead of night, then returned to his stew as if nothing at all had occurred. His behavior was predictable in its unpredictability. Though I still had a difficult time imagining him murdering students or anyone else.

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today’s lesson. In light of recent events, I have decided that this is your final class before Christmas break,” Moldoveanu said as the clock tolled the hour. “Classes begin again on the twenty-sixth. Do not test my patience; I’m not keen on late arrivals.”

FOYER

FOAIER

BRAN CASTLE

22 DECEMBER 1888

The next morning Thomas and I met in the castle’s receiving chamber, ready to embark on our journey to Bucharest. Noah and Cian had bid us good-bye before disappearing into the dining hall, and I was now lost in thought, dreading that Daciana wouldn’t be there to greet us upon our arrival. Thomas had written her immediately after our initial suspicions regarding Ileana, but Daciana hadn’t replied. If she was hurt, or worse… I could not allow myself to think this way.

Thomas shifted every other moment, his attention riveted on the small window beside the door. Our carriage was due to arrive any moment. I closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore the memory of Anastasia’s corpse. There were so many scratches and bite marks, it had been hard to recognize her. The memory of those bats covering her body—a sudden burst of heat overwhelmed my senses. I needed to get out into the cold before I was sick.

I rushed past Thomas and wrenched the door open, gasping in huge gulps of icy air. Outside, the scent of pine mixed with that of the fires roaring inside. The cloud-covered sun had barely stretched its arms across the horizon, and the temperature was cold enough to create icicles that looked like fangs surrounding the main doorway. Snow fell in a consistent rhythm.

The cold steadied my body temperature, allowing the bout of sickness to pass.

“Are you all right?” Thomas stood beside me, brow crinkled in concern.

I nodded. “The air is helping.”

Thomas turned his attention to the cobbled path, though it appeared as if he were lost inside his mind. We were both bundled up in our warmest cloaks, tucked into layers upon layers of heavy material fighting the winter storm. Thomas’s cloak was black as tar, with matching fur around the collar. He stared out at nothing, jaws locked tight. I could not imagine the thoughts running through his head.

I stuffed my hands into the muff hanging from my neck. “No matter what we discover, we’ll make it through this. We’re a team, Cresswell.”

Thomas stomped his feet and blew warmth into his leather-clad hands, steam rising like London fog around him. “I know.”

A familiar coldness settled into his features. This was the Thomas Cresswell I’d first met in London. The young man who didn’t permit anything or anyone too close. The one who felt much too deeply, I realized. Liza had been right all those months ago, more than even she’d guessed. Thomas used distance as a barrier against being hurt. He wasn’t cold and cruel—not even close to the relatives he feared being compared to. He was breakable and knew precisely where his weakest points lay. To help those he loved, he’d tear apart the world.