Chapter
25
Tavian Dinescu’s trial was the talk of
the town. He had been charged with murder, attempted murder, and
attempted rape.
People who knew him were shocked to
discover he had killed his own daughter, as well as the banker’s
oldest son. Of course, there were those who said they had known all
along that there was something wrong with Tavian, that they had
never believed his story about Jenica running off with
Emil.
Stories came out about his past. A
woman remembered catching eight-year-old Tavian cutting the head
off a dead rat. A man recalled a time when Tavian had been a few
years older and set a kitten’s tail on fire. An old school chum
recalled Tavian’s fascination with torturing small animals and how
he had once held a puppy underwater to see how long it would take
the animal to drown.
During the course of the trial, Elena
was called upon to testify. Sitting in the witness stand, her hands
folded tightly in her lap, she refused to look at her uncle as she
related her testimony. Yes, her uncle had often made improper
advances toward her. Yes, it had frightened her and she had run
away from home. Yes, he had come to the castle two weeks
ago.
“And what did he say at that time?” the
prosecuting attorney asked.
“He said ‘I will have you.’ I told him
I’d rather die, and . . .” She swallowed hard, her cheeks growing
hot. “He ripped my T-shirt down the front.”
“This T-shirt?” The prosecuting
attorney held it up and offered it as exhibit A.
“Yes.” She bit down on her lower lip.
“He told me he was going to . . . to have me then and there, and
then he said, ‘I’ll take you to see Jenica.’”
“And what happened next?”
“My cat attacked him, and he ran out of
the castle.” She glanced at her uncle for the first time. He looked
prosperous in a new, dark blue suit. Both cheeks were bandaged
where Smoke had scratched him.
In light of Dinescu’s confession,
combined with the DNA evidence found on all three bodies, the
defense had little to build its case on.
The jury deliberated only a short time.
When they returned, they declared that they found Tavian Dinescu to
be criminally insane and recommended that he be sent to Borsa
Castle. Borsa had once been the summer home of the Banffy family.
At the end of World War II, the Communists had thrown the family
out. It was now an asylum for the insane and, some said, for people
no one else wanted.
In spite of all he had done, Elena was
overcome with pity for her uncle. She had heard stories of Borsa,
which was rumored to be the most monstrous mental institution in
all Romania. He would have no one to visit him, no one to offer the
attendants food and gifts in exchange for better care.
She blew out a sigh. There was nothing
more she could do for him. Whatever happened to her uncle now was
his own fault. He had brought it all on himself.
A week after the trial ended, her
uncle’s lawyer knocked on the castle door. “Good afternoon, Miss
Knightsbridge.”
“Mr. Balescu. What brings you
here?”
“May I come in?”
“Of course.” She took a step backward,
and almost tripped over the cat. “Smoke, get out of the way,” she
murmured, and grinned when he licked her ankle. “This way, Mr.
Balescu,” she said. “Please, sit down.”
She sat on one of the sofas in front of
the hearth, the cat at her side. The lawyer took a seat on the sofa
across from her. He was a middle-aged man, impeccably dressed in a
dark blue suit, with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a wispy
mustache.
“Is something wrong?” she
asked.
“I am here to settle your uncle’s
estate.” Setting his briefcase on the coffee table between them, he
opened it and withdrew several sheets of paper. “According to the
terms of your uncle’s will, the house and all its belongings were
bequeathed to your Aunt Catalena. If she died first, his property
was to go to Jenica. And then to you.”
“No.” Elena shook her head. “No. I
don’t want it.”
“You can dispose of his holdings in any
way you wish,” Mr. Balescu said. “But first you need to sign these
papers.” He pushed them across the table toward her, and offered
her a pen. “There’s also a small savings account.”
Elena read the papers over carefully,
asking questions when there was a clause she didn’t fully
understand, then signed where the lawyer indicated.
Mr. Balescu tucked the papers into his
briefcase and closed it with a flourish. “If you have any
questions, please, do not hesitate to call. It will take a few
weeks to transfer the title on the house into your
name.”
“Thank you.”
Rising, he sketched a bow.
When she started to get up, he waved
her off. “I can see myself out. Good day to you, Miss
Knightsbridge.”
Elena stared after the lawyer, then
looked down at the cat. “I never expected that.”
The cat rubbed his head against her
thigh.
“I’ll sell the house,” she said,
thinking out loud. “And whatever else he has. If I donate it to the
asylum, maybe they’ll make his life easier.”
With a hiss that could only be
disapproval, the cat jumped off the sofa and ran up the
stairs.
Elena blew out a sigh of exasperation,
then followed the cat.
She found Drake waiting for her in bed,
the sheet pooled in his lap.
“You think I’m wrong?” she asked.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she kicked off her
shoes.
He shook his head. “I am only amazed at
your kindness.”
“What kindness?”
“Mortals are strange creatures. Dinescu
would have killed you without a qualm. You wanted him to be
punished. You testified against him and now, when he has been sent
to the worst hellhole in the country, you want to do what you can
to make his life more comfortable.” He shook his head. “My people
are not so kind. Any one of us who did what your uncle did would
have been destroyed, and that would have been the end of
it.”
“I guess I wouldn’t make a very good
vampire.”
“No,” Drake agreed, pulling her toward
him, so that her back rested against his chest. “But you make a
perfect wife.”
“What will happen when you don’t go
back to the Fortress? You aren’t going back, are you?”
“I am afraid we must. It is the only
way to continue this charade. The only way for Andrei and Katiya to
be together.”
“What if Rodin finds out what you’ve
done?” She had asked him that before, and he had said,
That, I cannot
predict.
Today, he said, “I will appeal to
Liliana for mercy for you and for Katiya.”
Elena looked over her shoulder, her
gaze searching his face. “What will he do to you?” Remembering how
Rodin had punished Drake before, she hated to ask, but she had to
know.
He thought about it a moment before
replying. “I do not know. I promised I would marry Katiya. I
promised that she would conceive a child, and that I would put her
happiness before my own. I have kept those promises,” he said with
a wry grin. “I married her. She is with child, and she is
happy.”
“Maybe that will mollify Rodin,” Elena
said hopefully.
“Maybe,” Drake replied. But it was
doubtful. Forgiveness was not one of Rodin’s virtues.
“What will happen to your
brother?”
“I do not know. Andrei’s mother is
currently out of favor with Rodin.”
“You don’t have the same
mother?”
“No.” He ran his fingertips along her
arm, then lifted her sweater over her head and tossed it aside. Her
bra and jeans followed. “Let us not worry about the future now,” he
said, his voice a low purr. “I can think of better ways to spend
the afternoon.”
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” she asked
primly.
“Later. Right now, I need you here, in
my bed, in my arms.”
“And what will we do in your
bed?”
His laughter filled the room. “Exactly
what you are thinking, wife,” he said as he pulled her under the
covers and showered her with kisses.