Page 45 of Now Comes the Mist

“Thank you,” I say, still breathless. “I am much obliged to you.”

“It is my pleasure.” Vlad turns to Mina. “Shall I fetch you a chair, miss? So that you may join your charming friend …Lucy, was it?” Quicker than she can see, he gives me the most fleeting and private of smiles, meant only for me. I close my eyes, trying to slow my heart.

“I don’t wish to trouble you—” Mina begins.

“It’s no trouble at all, as long as I may join the two of you?” he asks politely. “Weary traveler that I am, I would appreciate sitting a bit longer.”

“Of course,” she says at once.

Vlad takes two iron chairs from a nearby table, where the flirtatious girl in pink is still watching him hopefully. But he does not spare her a glance as he sets down a chair for Mina, gallantly wiping off the rain with his handkerchief, before taking the other himself. “I hope you do not think this improper, miss,” he says, looking straight at Mina, his self-conscious humility clearly a show for her. “I am new to England’s shores, you see, and where I am from … well, our ways are not your ways. Will you allow me to introduce myself?”

“Certainly,” Mina says, looking charmed.

He proceeds to speak, very smoothly and fluently, a series of names and titles rivaling those of the Queen herself. I recognize a number of different languages, from French to Spanish to German to Russian. “I am of a very large family, with roots all over Europe, as you can see,” he says, sounding apologetic as Mina stares at him, overwhelmed. “The equivalent of my title, in your elegant English, would likely be count.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Count,” Mina says courteously. “From where do you hail, with such wide-spreading roots?”

“My primary home is in Austria-Hungary, in a remote place in the mountains.”

“The Carpathians?” Mina asks eagerly, and he nods, his eyebrows raised. “My fiancé is there now on business. I shall not try to pronounce the name of the region, as I would not do it justice, but he told me that it translates into English as the Mountains of Deep Winter.”

“Ah! I know the area well,” Vlad says, smiling.

“I read everything I could about it before he left,” Mina says. “I wanted to know more about where he was traveling, you see. It was my way of going with him. He is a lawyer’s clerk. And I am so sorry, I have not yet introduced myself,” she adds, blushing at her oversight. “I am Mina Murray, and this is my friend Lucy Westenra.”

“A pleasure.” Vlad bows from the waist, ever graceful. “The mountains of which you speak are rather far from here, Miss Murray. You must miss your fiancé very much.”

Mina’s face falls. “Oh, yes, but I am certain he will return soon.”

He nods, all kindness and sympathy, but I detect his wolfish amusement. He is like a river, concealing dark undercurrents beneath the surface, and the evident pleasure he takes in Mina’s pain is troubling, considering he has never seen her before.But he has, I recall with a sharp intake of breath.He mentioned that he has seen her photograph.Jonathan and I are two of the only people to possess a picture of her, so perhaps Vlad has met him. He lives in the country where Jonathan has gone on business, after all. But why would he not tell Mina so?

His eyes cut to me, dagger sharp, detecting my disquiet.

I find my voice at last. “What a coincidence that you hail from the same country. Perhaps you crossed paths with Mina’s fiancé on the journey.”

“Perhaps,” he says, answering me but looking at Mina. “I did leave home quite a while ago, however. Boat travel takes considerable time, as you know.”

“I do not know,” Mina admits. “I’ve never been on a boat or, indeed, left England.”

“Truly? Even though you have a scholarly interest and the heart of a traveler?”

He is still addressing Mina alone, which nettles me, considering that he had spoken similar sentiments to me first. “Mina and I are happy to remain on land at the moment,” I say, bringing myself back into the conversation, “considering what happened last night.”

He does not take his eyes from Mina. “Something happened?” he asks, all innocence.

“A ship came into Whitby. TheDemeter,” I say, and his eyes dart to me at last with a flicker of humor. My brazenness amuses him. “She sailed into port with not a crew member still alive. Perhaps you have heard the news in town or seen her for yourself?”

Vlad spreads his pale hands. “Alas, I fear my English is not good enough yet,” he says to Mina, humble and abashed. “I have not been listening to the talk, as I am still learning.”

“I think your English is very good,” she says politely.

But I am not willing to let go so easily. “I hear theDemetersailed from Bulgaria. Is that not whereyourship originated? That is,” I add hastily, seeing Mina’s surprise, “you did not tell us that, but I assume it is one of the most convenient ports to you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch at my error. “Yes, you are correct. I sailed from Varna,” he says, turning to me at last with friendly attentiveness. The glint in his ocean eyes is challenging me to say more in front of Mina and risk exposing our secret.

But I refuse to be intimidated and meet his gaze full on. “How many ships sail from Bulgaria to England within the span of a few weeks?” I ask. “I can’t imagine that many, as the route seems quite circuitous. And are they all calledDemeter?”

Mina looks between us, puzzled and ill at ease.

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