When Franz Leopold woke up, the first thing he noticed was the smell of smoke that had permeated the tower like a sticky cloud, seeping into the smallest cracks. He thought of Ivy and her brave attempt to prevent the disaster. How easily could she have been destroyed! Or not? Could ordinary fire burn a vampire so completely that they couldn't regenerate? Probably. The explosion could have torn her apart!
He closed his eyes in torment. No, he didn't want to think about such things. It was bad enough what the fire had done to her. He shuddered at the thought of her burned half-body, the crippled hand, and the charred silver hair. But it would heal. Every night a little more. How would he find her tonight? Surely the pain and dizziness had already subsided, but it couldn't hurt to have a strong arm around her shoulder. Hopefully, he opened the lid - only to see a silver shimmer disappearing in the spiral staircase.
"Ivy?" Next to her open coffin, he found Alisa, looking astonished after her friend.
"What happened to her?" Franz Leopold wanted to know.
"I have no idea!" Alisa called to him, then disappeared down the spiral staircase.
Luciano approached him. "At any rate, she was incredibly fast!" he observed.
Ivy hurried down the stairs. She had slept too long. Perhaps her body was still a bit affected by the nocturnal events? She had relied on waking up earlier than the others as usual to take the necessary measures, but then Alisa had lifted the lid of her coffin just as she was opening her eyes!
"Seymour, stop her!" she called to the wolf, who stood growling in the middle of the spiral staircase.
Ivy rushed into the storage hall on the lower floor. The twisted metal that had been Áine's coffin yesterday made her feel pity for the Lycana. Ivy pushed it aside. There would be time for that later. Now she had to act. Act quickly! She grabbed the soot with both hands and smeared it on her left cheek and in her overly lush hair. Ivy pulled her small knife from her belt and cut off a few strands. And the hand? What should she do with her hand and the arm, whose pale skin peeked between the charred edges of her garment? She rubbed her arm with a piece of charcoal, knowing it wouldn't be enough to deceive the others. She had to bandage it, put on new clothes. But where would she get them from? With trembling hands, Ivy stood in the middle of the hall, perhaps for the first time in her existence completely at a loss.
"Ivy? What are you doing?" She heard the ashes crackling under Alisa's feet but didn't turn around. How could she send her away? Keep her away? She couldn't think of anything. Probably because there was no way. Cold fear washed over her. Ivy closed her eyes and didn't move.
"Are you feeling that bad?"
It was dark in here. Maybe she wouldn't see it?
"What's this?"
Alisa was now so close that Ivy felt her cool breath brushing over her ash-blackened cheek.
"This is impossible! Wait here, I have to get a lamp."
Don't do it!, Ivy silently pleaded, yet there was a tiny part inside her that hoped the lies would end now. These might be the last moments when she shared her secret only with Seymour and Tara and the Lycana.
Alisa returned much too quickly. Ivy felt the warmth of the small flame and opened her eyes. Alisa, who was never at a loss for words, stared at her with her mouth open. Her hand trembled as she reached out her fingers and rubbed the soot a little on Ivy's unharmed shoulder. Then she bent down and picked up one of the strands of hair Ivy had cut off.
"By the demons of the night. The strand of hair! Now everything is clear to me. You've done it before, haven't you? The strand of hair Leo cut off for you - so that no one would notice! But Ivy, why?"
"To go to the academy. To learn from the others and become stronger!" she said barely audible. "That was the only way. You know they only accept heirs of pure blood!"
"Yes, I know," Alisa hesitated. "Maybe they would have made an exception?"
"Do you believe that?"
Alisa shook her head. "No, not really."
"And now it's all over," Ivy whispered.
"No!" Alisa exclaimed energetically. "I can help you." She bent down, picked up some ashes, and rubbed them into Ivy's hair. Then she blackened the skin on Ivy's arm and shoulder, which had completely healed again. "We'll bandage your hand so no one sees it. And later you'll put on different clothes. There must be something here in the tower. Be of good cheer. Everything will stay as it was. We will make sure together that no one finds out."
Franz Leopold descended the stairs. He felt compelled to chase after her as fast as he could, but something within him held him back. What was happening here? Why had she rushed away as if struck by holy water after this night? Part of his mind urged him not to want to know. A premonition whispered that nothing would be the same as before, yet he put one foot in front of the other and descended the seemingly endless spiral staircase, stepping over the charred remnants of the door and following the voices emanating from the blackened storage hall. He didn't want to listen, yet he had to. It was Alisa speaking. She obscured the view of Ivy as he entered under the door. What the hell was she doing? Smearing ash into Ivy's hair?
"Be of good cheer. Everything will stay as it was. We will make sure together that no one finds out."
An icy coldness ran through his veins. "What?" he asked tonelessly. "What won't anyone find out?"
The two vampire women turned around. Ivy let out a scream. "Go, Leo, go away!" Undeterred, he approached. He leaned forward and examined her hair, then his gaze wandered down her cheek to her neck, shoulder, and arm, to the completely intact fingers, only blackened by the ash. The realization gnawed at his heart like poison. He staggered back a step.
"You've lied to us all! You've deceived us, our clan leaders, and our families! You've deceived everyone and tainted this academy!"
"Franz Leopold, stop!" Alisa screamed. "You don't know what you're saying!"
"Oh, I know very well, and I want to say much more!" He had kissed her, opened himself up to this creature, adored her. And she? Had she secretly mocked him? This simple-minded Dracas who could be so easily deceived? The thought tasted bitter on his tongue.
"You knew!" He looked accusingly at Alisa.
"No, I didn't. It's only just become clear to me, just like to you!"
"But it seems not to bother you."
Alisa listened to herself and then said, "It bothers me that Ivy didn't trust us enough and kept the secret from us. Nevertheless, I stand by her, no matter what blood runs through her veins."
Franz Leopold returned to his haughty and dismissive demeanor. "I can imagine. Your Vamalia seems to have a very intimate relationship with your impure ones, and you probably don't care at all with whom you share your bed."
Alisa slapped him hard on the left cheek. She would have struck him a second time, but Franz Leopold caught her hand and squeezed it in his grip as if he wanted to break all her bones. They glared at each other.
"Disappear," Alisa hissed. "And stay away from us in the future. Don't even dare to utter a word of this, otherwise, you'll be the next one to end up like Ireen! Because that's what awaits someone who goes against the community of heirs!"
Franz Leopold laughed shrilly. "I've heard a lot of nonsense from your mouth already, but this surpasses everything." His arm shot forward. His finger pointed accusingly at Ivy. "To call that there an heir is the height of audacity!" Ivy made a sound that resembled a tortured animal.
"Leave!" Alisa repeated and protectively wrapped her arms around Ivy.
"Yes, I'm going, because I prefer to stay in a purer environment!" Franz Leopold hissed and stormed out, only to collide with Luciano under the door.
"What's going on here?"
"Go in and see for yourself!" Franz Leopold sneered.
"Don't you dare to break your silence!" Alisa screamed.
He paused. "No, I won't say anything. It's even beneath my dignity to waste another thought on something so unworthy!" Franz Leopold rushed out of the hall and ran into the courtyard.
Luciano watched Franz Leopold go, then turned to the vampire women and approached. Seymour followed him and settled down by his side.
"Go, please!" Ivy pleaded, and Alisa also urged him to leave them alone, but Luciano ignored them. Instead, he looked at Ivy with a strange smile.
"Is the good Leo so upset that he forgets his good manners? It can only mean he has finally found out that you are impure."
Ivy gasped. "You knew?"
"Since when?" Alisa demanded to know.
"The strand of hair. Do you remember?" Luciano pulled out a silver lock of hair from a small pouch he apparently always carried with him. "I wondered why Ivy was so upset just because Leo cut off a strand of her hair. I couldn't explain it! And then, a few days later, it seemed to me that another strand was shorter than the rest of her hair. How could that be? From then on, I watched Ivy, and especially her hair, even more closely." Luciano smiled sheepishly. "And indeed, it was true that it wasn't always the same lock missing. I was very confused, I must admit. To assure myself, I sneaked to Ivy's coffin when the girls' sleeping chamber was once empty - and I found a whole number of silver locks! I pondered for a long time, but the only explanation I could think of for her hair growing back so quickly overnight was that she couldn't be of pure blood."
"And you didn't let on at all!" Alisa's voice oscillated between admiring and hurt.
Luciano shook his head. "If Ivy didn't want to tell us, then it certainly wasn't up to me to blab it out."
"I'm surprised Leo didn't read it in your thoughts," Alisa remarked.
Luciano shrugged. "What I don't think about, the Dracas can't coax out of me. Once I realized it couldn't be any different, I stopped thinking about it. What's the use? Is it so important? Your Vamalia treats your Servients differently from us Nosferas or even the Dracas. So why shouldn't Ivy attend the academy along with Mervyn?"
Ivy hugged him. "You're a true friend, Luciano. I wasn't even aware that you knew about my secret - perhaps because I was too afraid of what would happen if you found out."
She looked at Alisa and Luciano with her turquoise eyes. "I should have known that you wouldn't judge me and wouldn't give up our friendship - at least you two," she added sadly, looking down.
That brought Alisa back to reality. "We need to hurry. Luciano, run into the hall and see if you can find another garment for Ivy, and bring something to bind her hand. I'll help Ivy with her hair and face. Don't worry, we'll manage this well - and I don't think anyone will find out from Leo that you're not of pure blood."
"What?" Malcolm entered the hall, blinking in confusion. "Did I hear correctly?"
Alisa cursed. "What are you doing here? No one invited you!"
Her anger made him recoil slightly. "Rowena and I applied the tincture to Mervyn's wounds again and re-dressed them. She's only bleeding lightly now, but it still hurts him a lot. And now I wanted to see if I could help Ivy with her severe burns. But apparently that's not necessary."
"Don't you dare to despise her for that! And if you blab her secret, our eternal enmity is assured."
Malcolm seemed a little confused. "I don't despise her. I'm pleased to see that her severe wounds have healed and her hand isn't crippled anymore. She's better off than Mervyn, believe me."
Alisa was taken aback. She hadn't expected this reaction. "You're staring at me like that? I understand, you think poorly of us - and perhaps rightly so, considering Ireens incredible betrayal. I feel the guilt we've loaded onto ourselves, and I will do everything in my power to make amends. I admit, I too always regarded the Lycana as an inferior family, because that's what we've been told from childhood. The enmity is old - perhaps it goes back to the time when the Normans landed here on the coast to subdue the Celts. They were always the underdogs! And so we thought of the Lycana as nothing more than a backward remnant. Now, I've been convinced in the past weeks that you possess remarkable knowledge and powers that deserve respect." He bowed slightly in Ivy's direction.
"Yes, but..." Alisa looked at him with wide-open eyes.
"The matter of pure blood?" Malcolm waved a dismissive hand. "Some of our most esteemed Vyrad are not of pure blood. Just think of Lord Byron. He's highly regarded, even revered by us! We recognized early on that we can learn from the long experience and knowledge of our Servients. So, but now I would suggest you take care of ensuring Ivy's secret is safe, while I ensure you're not disturbed."
A radiant smile illuminated Alisa's face, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Malcolm, you're wonderful!"
"Um, thank you."
Embarrassed, she let him go and said briskly, "So let's get going! We need to finish up and then check on Mervyn."
Despite being injured by a silver blade, Mervyn was surprisingly well. The Druid's tincture, which drew out the harmful silver from his flesh, worked wonders. When Ivy returned to the upper hall shortly afterward, with a new garment, a bound hand, one side of her hair shortened and blackened, and a sooty cheek, she found him sitting on his closed coffin, chatting with Sören. Alisa and Ivy were relieved to see him on the road to recovery. Mervyn grinned a little crookedly and grabbed his bandaged shoulder.
"It burns like hell, but otherwise, I feel quite alright again."
Oscar smiled a little crookedly and sighed. "No, my friend, I don't think so!"
Perhaps to change the subject, Oscar nodded toward the sheet of paper Bram had in front of him.
"What are you writing there? Are you venturing into poetry after all? Don't tell me that's another political pamphlet in the making!"
Bram laughed. "Oh no! Don't worry." He hastily folded the paper and tucked it into his breast pocket. He avoided giving the actual answer to his friend, who also didn't seem inclined to inquire further. The horse was saddled and led into the courtyard, the luggage loaded onto the carriage. Then Oscar mounted his horse, obviously keen to avoid any further discussions with his mother. So Bram had no choice but to sit beside the lady in the carriage. The carriage rumbled out of the village and followed the road southward. Soon they passed the next hamlet. Bram felt his heart quicken. He placed his hand on the breast pocket where the folded letter lay. What a foolish idea this was again. And yet, every fiber in him urged him to do it. Now! It was the last opportunity.
"Um, Lady Wilde. Could we please make a brief stop? I have something to attend to."
He tapped the coach's wall with his stick, and the carriage halted.
"It won't take long," he promised the astonished lady and disappeared into the darkness. Bram Stoker ran along the path. Soon, he was so out of breath that he had to slow his pace. On the other side of the river, the crenellations of the tower castle emerged above the treetops, and again he felt that sense of danger, warning him and urging him to run away. But he had no intention of visiting the castle. His destination was the old graveyard. As he approached it, he slowed down even more. He noticed he was tiptoeing, eager to make no sound. His breath sounded unnaturally loud in his ears, and he could hear each of his heartbeats. Then the crumbling wall of fieldstones surrounding the small cemetery came into view. Bram Stoker stopped. Was he completely out of his mind? What was he doing here? How did he get the idea that she might be here? He clung to her words. They would meet again. Fate had decreed it so. Slowly, he pushed forward. He longed for and feared the first glance over the wall. Suddenly, he froze. Loud voices echoed to him. Bram listened. The voices of young men, sounding damn angry. What was going on there? Without thinking about the danger he might be putting himself in, Bram hurried to the wall and ducked behind a bush. He cautiously peered over the moss-covered granite rocks. Two young lads, about fourteen or fifteen years old, faced each other. One was tall, slim, dark-haired, and almost ethereally beautiful. The other was only medium-sized and a little stocky. His short black hair stood wild in all directions. The handsome one held a rapier in his hand. From their expressions, Bram could tell the argument was serious. Were they vampires? He suspected so, although the light was so dim that he couldn't see if they cast a shadow. Then the gate squeaked, and two girls hurried in. One tall, slightly boyish with reddish-blond hair - the other was Ivy. Just the sight of her silver locks made his heart beat in a strange rhythm. But when she turned to him and he saw her left side, his heart stopped altogether. Good Lord, what happened to her face and her hair? In shock, he crumpled the letter in his hand, on the back of which was written in large letters: To Ivy-Máire.