Dani was feeling increasingly frustrated as she headed the short distance across Tipton to the cul-de-sac where Brigitta Popescu lived. Had she learned anything at all from the day’s events? Not really. Other than that Victor Nistor was up to something. But was it something related to Clara Dunne’s murder? Liam Dunne’s disappearance? Dani really had no clue, and certainly no direct evidence to back up that theory.
But she wasn’t giving up on Victor, nor was she giving up on today yet. She was in the area, so she may as well cover every base she could.
Just over a week before the winter solstice, night-time was coming earlier and earlier each day, and with four p.m. still several minutes away, it was already dusk when Dani parked up outside Brigitta’s house. Streetlights were flickering to life as Dani stepped onto the pavement. The street here, outside of school times, was deathly quiet. No pedestrians, no cars – other than those parked up and steadily frosting over – and barely any sounds coming from the homes that were largely cloaked in darkness.
Already feeling just a little uneasy, particularly being here alone, Dani sent a brief text to Easton updating him on her fruitless meeting with Victor, and telling him where she now was. She moved up the driveway to the front door and knocked, then rang the bell.
She waited for several seconds. Then several seconds more to give Brigitta the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t as though she was nimble. Obviously no Stef helping out right now, though?
That reminded Dani. She did want to speak to Stef more formally at some point.
Dani knocked again. Waited even longer this time, but there was still no answer.
Had someone taken Brigitta out? Dani could hardly imagine someone as frail as she was heading out by herself. Particularly in this cold. And when it was dark.
Dani crouched down, pushed open the letterbox and peered inside. The space beyond was dark, just as it had been the last time Dani and Easton had been here in the daytime, though Dani could definitely see a glow of orange coming from the lounge doorway. She held her breath to listen for sounds, and she was sure she could hear faint mumbling from somewhere within.
Eyes still peering in, Dani reached up and pressed the bell again.
The mumbling stopped. Dani waited. And waited. No sign of Brigitta coming to the door. Then came that same sound again.
Was it mumbling or something else entirely?
Thoughts flashed through Dani’s mind. What if Brigitta was hurt? Had fallen and couldn’t get up?
Dani tried the door.
It opened.
Dani sucked in cold air until her lungs were full, then nervously stepped inside. She closed the door softly behind her.
‘Mrs Popescu?’ she shouted out.
The house was warm inside. Almost too warm. Particularly with the thick coat and scarf that Dani was wearing. Not just warm, but stuffy and uncomfortably humid too.
‘Mrs Popescu?’ Dani shouted again.
No response. Though Dani could hear that mumbling again – chanting?
Dani stepped slowly along the dark and eerily quiet hallway.
‘Mrs Popescu, it’s Detective Stephens. Your door was unlocked.’
The chanting stopped. Dani froze on the spot. Waited in the silence for a few seconds. Then the jumbled words started up once more.
What the hell?
Dani moved forward, reached the doorway to the lounge. Orange light crept out from the room, though as before large swathes remained in darkness. The inadequate lighting created long, sinister shadows that snaked and weaved across the furniture and the walls. The more Dani stared, the more the shadows twisted and flowed.
‘Mrs Popescu?’
Dani stepped into the room, her eyes still not yet fully adjusted to the dark. She didn’t know whether to gasp or heave a sigh of relief when she spotted Brigitta, now silent, sunken into the armchair in the far corner.
Light flickered all around her from the shrine-like display by her side, though the outline of her body could barely be made out in the dark, her features almost imperceptible except for her wide open and glassy eyes.
She was staring over at Dani.
‘I thought you would be back,’ she said, her words slow yet strangely assured.
‘Mrs Popescu, are you OK?’
Then she began to chant again. Slow, rhythmic words that meant nothing to Dani. Eyes now almost accustomed to the darkness, Dani stepped further forward, her gaze fixed on Brigitta’s chest where her hands were clasped around a six-inch cross.
Dani had no clue what to say or do. Brigitta was trance-like, her body unmoving as she chattered away, her stare as intense as her words were indecipherable.
Then Brigitta stopped talking and squeezed her eyes shut.
Dani just stood there like an idiot.
‘Brigitta?’
‘Bones,’ Brigitta said, the word coming out as a solemn moan. Her eyes remained closed.
‘Sorry?’
‘Bones… So many bones.’
Dani was sure a tear rolled down Brigitta’s cheek, though in the dark she couldn’t be sure of anything she was seeing.
‘Bones?’
‘So many. Have you seen them yet?’
Her eyes sprang open, gaze fixed on Dani, whose heart thudded against her ribs. She stumbled back a step, such was the force of Brigitta’s look.
‘They’re coming for you,’ Brigitta said, voice loud and clear. Instructive, decisive. Almost as though the words had been spoken by a different person than the frail woman Dani had met before. ‘They know everything. And they’re coming for you.’
‘Who?’ Dani said, trying her best to keep her cool. ‘The Stirgoi? Is that what you mean?’
Why was Dani even doing this? Evil spirits? Vampires? It was ridiculous.
Yet standing in this room, in front of Brigitta in this trance, or whatever it was… Dani had never been so petrified or so freaked out in her life.
Brigitta said nothing now. The long, spindly shadows swirled around and reached out towards Dani. She took another nervous half step back – glanced over her shoulder to the dark empty space beyond. But was it empty? How could she even tell?
‘Have you seen yet?’ Brigitta asked, the words shaky, almost a sorrowful sob. ‘Have you seen the bones?’
‘Brigitta, what are you saying? Where?’ Dani said, not realizing until she’d spoken how rattled she was. ‘Whose bones?’
Brigitta leaned forwards in her chair. As she did so her face caught in a swathe of light, the deep ridges and lines of her aged features accentuated, and made all the more menacing.
Her cracked and withered lips moved into a sort of pout. She reached out a finger.
‘Yours.’
There was a clank, and the room was plunged into blackness.