She lifted a hand to her throat. He had admitted to tasting her. Was that why he kept her here? How much was “a taste”? How could she sleep through such a thing?
So many unanswered questions. She pushed them out of her mind. She would think about all that later. Right now, she was going back outside.
Rising, she headed for the garden, the cat at her heels.
Muttering, “Silly beast,” Elena made her way toward the iron bench. Grabbing her gloves, she pulled them on while she regarded the ground she had cleared earlier. It looked barren now.
Returning to the shed, she found a shovel and began to dig up one of the rosebushes, intending to replant it in the newly turned plot of ground.
She dug a wide hole around the bush, then reached down and gently pulled the roots out of the earth. A bit of blue-and-white striped cloth was tangled in the roots. Taking hold of the cloth, she gave it a yank. . . .
And screamed when a desiccated hand appeared, tangled in the material.
Elena stared at the skeletal hand and at the small blue stone ring on one finger for several seconds, then dropped to her knees, retching. Jenica had been wearing a dress made from that very same cloth the last time Elena had seen her.
Smoke padded up beside her. The cat took one look at the contents of the hole, hissed softly, and ran into the castle.
Moments later, Drake appeared at her side. “Elena, what is it?”
She looked up at him, sobbing, then pointed at the grisly find. “It’s . . . it’s . . . Jenica. . . .”
Lifting Elena to her feet, Drake drew her into his arms. He didn’t have to look into the hole to know what was there. The stench of death and decay was sharp in his nostrils. “Are you sure it is her?”
“She . . . when she ran away . . . she was . . . was wearing a dress made out of that same cloth. Uncle Tavian,” she said, hiccuping, “he bought her the dress for her birthday. And the ring . . . it was a gift from her mother.”
“Come inside and sit down.”
She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Come inside,” he repeated, leading her toward the back door. “I’ll unearth the rest of the remains. We need to make sure it is your cousin.”
After settling Elena on the sofa and covering her with a blanket, Drake returned to the garden. In his five hundred years, he had seen death in all its forms and he studied Jenica’s corpse dispassionately. An examination of the body showed she had died of a broken neck. He frowned as he detected Dinescu’s scent on the body. It proved nothing, of course. She had lived in the man’s house.
Squatting on his heels, he recalled reading in the local paper that there had been speculation that Jenica Dinescu had eloped with one of the neighbor boys. He remembered Jenica as being a quiet, frightened child, too timid to run away from home. Odd that Elena had never mentioned that her cousin had eloped. Drake grunted thoughtfully. Was the boy also buried here?
Rising, Drake brushed the dirt from his hands as he debated what to do with the body. There weren’t a lot of options. He could rebury it here, wrap it in a blanket and take it to Dinescu to gauge his reaction, or drop it off at the local undertaker.
Drake shook his head. As callous as it sounded, it mattered little to him who had killed the girl. Except for Elena’s well-being, he rarely took any interest in what went on in human affairs. At the moment, he had far more important things on his mind—like how he was going to explain to his sire why he had violated one of the Coven’s most basic laws.
One thing was for certain, he couldn’t leave Jenica’s body lying out in the open while he made up his mind. Using his preternatural strength, he quickly dug a hole six feet deep, wrapped the corpse in a length of burlap he found in the shed, and reburied the body. He would let Elena decide what to do with the grisly find after they returned from the Fortress.
Elena looked up when Drake entered the room. “Was it . . . ?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Why would anyone want to hurt Jenica?” Elena dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
He shrugged. “Who can say why people do what they do?”
Elena stared at him, ashamed of what she was thinking. He lived in the castle. He was a vampire. Vampires drank human blood. . . .
“You think I did this?”
“I . . .” A guilty flush stained her cheeks.
“I did not kill her.”
“I’m sorry for thinking that you—”
He brushed her apology aside with a wave of his hand. “Considering what you know about me, I cannot blame you.”
“We need to find whoever did this! He could live in our town. We have to stop him before he kills someone else.”
“We will. But not now.”
“Not now?” She stared at him in disbelief. “If not now, when?”
“I have something I must attend to, something that cannot be postponed any longer.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing! What can be more important than finding out who murdered my cousin?”
“Explaining to my sire why I disobeyed the law of the Coven and married a mortal.”
Chapter 12
“Coven?” Elena stared at Drake. “I don’t understand.”
“My sire wants to see me. I cannot refuse.”
“What does that have to do with your marrying me?”
“It is forbidden for us to marry mortals.”
“Why?”
“Relatively speaking, we are small in number. Only the oldest males can father children, and then only for a short time. Thus, my father has arranged a marriage for me.”
Elena stared at him in disbelief. “You married me when you were engaged to someone else?”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“Who is she?”
“I do not know.” He sat beside her, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa. “All I know is that her name is Katiya and she is fertile.”
“He expects you to marry someone you’ve never met?”
Drake nodded.
“Then why did you agree to marry me?”
“Because you asked me.”
Elena shook her head. “What’s the real reason?”
“Because you are beautiful.” He stroked her cheek. “And because I have no wish to wed and bed a woman of my father’s choosing. I am hoping that the woman he has chosen for me will be offended when she learns I have wed a mortal and that her parents will dissolve the betrothal.”