Vivienne watched Brother Karol mutter in his sleep. She’d taken a chair opposite his bed in the infirmary. He lay on his back, tied hand and foot. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead.
She wondered if he could snap those ropes.
Now his head turned from side to side, his parched lips moving. Try as she might, Vivienne couldn’t make out what he was saying. She rose and warily approached the bed. A few of the monks waited just outside the door, but Vivienne had asked them to leave her alone with him. Constantin had argued against it, but Father Gavra overruled him. She’d seen the look of fury on Constantin’s face as she closed the door.
That was many hours ago. There had been no change in his deathlike slumber until now. Karol’s eyes suddenly flew open and she jerked back, but they stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Brother Karol,” she said quietly in Magyar. “Can you hear me?”
His head slowly turned in her direction.
“Did you kill the English girl? The one who came to see the library?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes filled with contempt.
“What are you?” she persisted. “Tell me and I might be able to help.”
He turned his face to the wall. “You can’t help me,” he whispered.
“Are you innocent?”
There was no response.
“I know something is wrong here. Are there others who know too? Brother Nicolae, perhaps? I heard him praying in the chapel last night. He asked God to preserve him from evil.”
Vivienne sat back down in the chair, studying the young monk’s profile. The iron blade in her bodice was a reassuring weight. “I can protect you from the ones who would kill you. But you must tell me the truth.”
Karol closed his eyes again and refused to say anything more.
After a while, Vivienne sighed and rose to her feet. She knocked on the door and it was opened by Brother Constantin.
“He’s awake,” she said.
Constantin nodded gruffly. He went inside and took the same chair against the wall Vivienne had occupied. He said nothing to the prisoner, but his gaze was like a thunderhead.
Vivienne returned to Father Gavra’s study. He had a blanket across his shoulders and a fire roaring in the hearth. The brandy bottle was half-empty. He gave her a wan smile.
“How is your hand?” she asked.
He shrugged with one shoulder. “It pains me but the bleeding has stopped. Brother Constantin will lead the services for now.” He paused. “Has Brother Karol said anything to you?”
Vivienne shook her head. “Not a word. I just left him.”
“I hope Lord Cumberland manages to fetch a doctor soon.” He sighed. “What will you do now?”
“It’s my duty to stay and complete my investigation until it is resolved to my satisfaction,” she said. “I hope you have no objections.”
Father Gavra nodded. “Of course.” He held up the bottle. “Won’t you share a drink with me?”
“A small one.”
He poured her a cup with his uninjured arm and handed it over. “Tell me something, Lady Cumberland.”
Vivienne took a sip and inclined her head.
“Do you think Brother Karol is truly a pricolici? Or simply insane?”
“I don’t know. If you believe the latter, you must discount what the villagers claimed to see in the woods when they found the children.”
“Yes. But I did not see that myself. The more I consider it, the more it seems that the wounds to poor Brother Adrian could have been inflicted entirely by a man.”
“They could have,” Vivienne agreed.
“If he had a kind of madness, a bloodlust, perhaps he hoped joining the monastery would protect him.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No. He managed to suppress it for a while, but eventually it became impossible to resist.” He paused and studied the last half inch of brandy, his eyes glazed with tiredness. “Or perhaps Karol does have a wolf inside him. Marcus Aurelius said that nothing is evil which is according to nature. Do you think pricolici could be a natural occurrence? A mutation like those Mr. Darwin wrote about?”
“Brother Karol is the only one who can tell us how he came to be that way.”
“What will become of him, Lady Cumberland? When the constable arrives from Satinari?”
Vivienne thought of the quote by the Reverend Baring-Gould.
He may still prowl in Abyssinian forests, range still over Asiatic steppes, and be found howling dismally in some padded room of a Hanwell or a Bedlam.
“I don’t know. He’ll be arrested and have a trial. We have no proof he did anything besides attack you just now. I’m not doubting his guilt, Father, but these questions will be asked.” She smiled. “Unless he confesses, of course.”
The abbot sighed. “I will have to address the brothers tomorrow, give them an explanation they can understand. This whole business has been awful. I have ordered them to stay in their rooms for now. I imagine you wish to rest as well. It’s been a very long day for all of us.”
Vivienne finished her brandy. She rose and started for the door, then turned back. “One thing puzzles me, Father. I’ve wondered how Karol managed to move about the monastery unseen on so many occasions. He must have snuck out on the night the children and woodcutter were killed and returned to his room without anyone noticing. The same for Brother Adrian.”
She didn’t include Anne on this gruesome list. Vivienne still believed her ward must be alive somewhere. Anything else was … unthinkable.
The abbot’s eyes flickered with interest. “I’ll confess, I’ve wondered the same myself. He must have had the Devil’s own luck.”
She smiled. “He must have. I might go ask Brother Florin if he has a copy of the monastery plans.”
“And I will speak with Karol myself in the morning. Perhaps he’ll be willing to make a confession to me, cleanse his conscience.”
Vivienne bade Father Gavra goodnight and walked through the empty refectory. In fact, she had developed a suspicion about how Karol had moved around — assuming he was truly the pricolici.
The daylight faded as she made her way to the library. Brother Florin nodded at her from his place at the scriptorium, then continued copying a manuscript. Vivienne lit a candle and settled herself in the chair by the window, listening to his quill scratching away on the parchment.
“Do you know anything about secret passages?” she asked bluntly in Magyar.
Florin looked up at her, his watery eyes measuring. “As a matter of fact, yes. They were built during the reign of Prince Michael. None have been used in a very long time, of course.”
“Might I see the original plans?”
“I’m afraid they were lost in a fire some years ago.”
“Oh.”
He laid his quill down. “But I could show you myself if you like.”
Brother Florin led her through the refectory and down a flight of stairs to the kitchens, which smelled of onions.
“There is a false door here, you see?” He pressed a hidden lever at the rear of one of the pantries. The shelving swung open a few inches. A breath of cold, dank air brushed her skin. She held the candle high and peered inside.
“Where does it lead?”
“There are connecting passages throughout the abbey. I wouldn’t recommend going far.”
She glanced at him. “I won’t, Brother Florin. Thank you.”
“Perhaps I should accompany you?” he said diffidently. “I’ve done a bit of exploring before. I know some of the passages. They can be rather confusing.”
Vivienne hesitated. “All right.”
He gave her a sharp look. “Do you think Brother Karol came this way?”
“I suspect so,” Vivienne admitted.
They entered a narrow space thick with dust and cobwebs. After several twists and turns, she saw the faint outlines of another door.
“Where does that one lead?” Vivienne asked.
“To the Chapter House, I think. It wouldn’t be far from the brothers’ sleeping cells.”
“Are there any tunnels that pass beneath the outer wall?”
“I’ve wondered that, too.” He shook his head. “But I do not know. I was afraid to go too far alone. It seemed easy to get lost.”
They continued on for several minutes, sometimes turning sideways to squeeze through a tight spot. It was cold in the passages, yet she was forced to pause and wipe sweat from her brow. Vivienne tried to keep track of all the turnings, but her mind felt muddy. She’d hardly slept the night before.
“Perhaps we should return now?” Brother Florin asked behind her.
“Soon.” She pressed on, eyes scanning the walls and floor for any signs of dried blood.
Something nagged at her. If Brother Karol had only come at the end of the summer, how had he known about the hidden passages? She supposed it was possible he’d discovered them on his own, but more likely someone told him. Except that Brother Florin said they were never used anymore.
Then the corridor widened and reached a dead end. A secret chamber, empty save for the scuff of footprints in the dust.
“I suspect this is the room where Prince Michael hid himself during the wars of the mid-seventeenth century,” Brother Florin said behind her. “The monastery was besieged and sacked, though thank the Saints they didn’t try to burn the church.”
Vivienne raised the candle high. There was a tiny window high up in the wall that allowed some air and light, but no sign that the chamber had been used for nefarious purposes. She was about to concede defeat when she saw something glinting in the dust. Florin had turned back to peer into the passage. She strode forward and bent down to pick it up. When she stood, he was watching her with a strange expression.
“Did you find something?”
The thin gold chain dug into her palm as she closed her fist.
“No.”
“I thought I saw you pick something up.”
“Brother Florin, I’d like to go back now,” she said evenly.
“Of course, of course.” He turned toward the passageway. She saw his shoulders stiffen. The candle fell to the ground and rolled away, guttering out in the darkness of the passage.
“Forgive me,” Florin mumbled, crouching down and groping for the candle. “I sometimes get the palsy in my hands.”
She thought of his quill scratching against the parchment, hour after hour without pause.
Vivienne drew the iron blade from her bodice, her own candle casting a wavering pool of light.
“Brother Florin, I’d like you to turn around and face me now,” she said firmly.
He half turned to her, but his features were cloaked in shadow.
“Is something the matter?”
The hair on her neck stood straight up. His voice was perfectly normal, but every instinct screamed at her that something fundamental was changing, slipping away….
Vivienne took a step back, putting more distance between them. “I have a knife and I won’t hesitate to use it,” she said coldly. “Now, I want you to go over to that window and stand with your back against the wall.”
He raised his hands, which were not shaking at all.
“I think there’s a misunderstanding, Lady Cumberland—”
“There’s no misunderstanding. Go!”
He turned and walked past her. Every nerve ending tingled, but Florin did as she ordered.
“Now turn and look at me, please.”
He spun around, his eyes throwing back the candlelight.
And Vivienne heard Father Gavra’s voice.
“Lady Cumberland, are you in there? I see a light.”
Candles were moving down the passage.
“Stay back,” Vivienne warned in a loud voice, her eyes locked on Florin. “It’s not safe. Get help, Father, quickly!”
Florin simply stood and watched her, his face blank as stone.
The footsteps halted and she heard a low argument in the passage. Then Father Gavra appeared, his face pale against his dark robes. Brother Constantin hovered behind him.
“You should have gone with Lord Cumberland,” the abbot said, and his accent sounded different to her now. Softer. “I gave you a fair chance.”
Vivienne exhaled softly. So that’s how it was. Well, so be it.
She held up the gold chain, her own face grim. It had been a birthday present from Alec. “Where’s Anne?”
“Safe.”
Vivienne bit back a sob of fury. “Liar.”
His brown eyes flashed with sudden anger. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“You lied about everything else!”
“Not everything. I did go to Oxford divinity school.” He studied her. “Where’s your bonded?”
The words gave her a chill.
“Go to hell.”
He rubbed his eyes, and for a moment, she saw the weary young abbot, trying so hard to shepherd his flock through peril.
Vivienne heard more footsteps and backed deeper into the room, trying to keep them all in view. Constantin stepped aside and made room for Brother Karol. He looked entirely recovered, just another fresh-faced novice.
Father Gavra glanced at him.
“There are men coming up the road from Mara Vardac,” Karol said. “With shotguns.”
“Merde.” A deep sigh. “Ah well, we tried, didn’t we?”
Suddenly, Vivienne felt … strange. She reached for the wall, but it seemed too far away.
“Are you all pricolici?” Her tongue was thick and heavy.
Father Gavra ignored this question. He walked toward her and she shrank back, but he only slipped an arm around her waist, easing her down to the floor. Vivienne gave a slow blink and gazed at her hand. The knife was gone. She didn’t even remember dropping it.
“Did he send you here?” Gavra demanded. “Where is he?”
She wordlessly shook her head. It was like a horrible dream.
“I put too much,” he muttered.
“It’s time we leave this place.” Through the fog, she recognized the harsh voice of Constantin. “I told you we should have gone yesterday after—”
“Not now.” The words were spoken quietly, but Constantin cut off.
Father Gavra seemed lost in thought. He had the look of a man who was calculating something. Then he gave a small, terrifying smile.
Vivienne slumped back. She felt pressure on her wrist, the one with the cuff, and she wanted to scream in revulsion, but her voice wouldn’t come.
A whisper in her ear. “Tell your bonded D’Ange sends his regards.”