I felt a little faint. “But if you lost all your money, how was it you still had mine?” I asked, brandishing the notecase.

“I carried your money in my bag for security. My own funds were upon my person, and before you ask, no, I was not going to spend a pound of your money,” he said firmly.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Charles would have sooner starved than touched a penny of what did not belong to him.

“Once in Zagreb, I met up with a shepherd at the market who promised to take me as far as Belgrade. From there I met up with a band of travelling musicians who were bound for Klausenberg.”

“Klausenberg is a day’s journey too far,” I told him, rather unhelpfully.

“Yes, I realise that now, but at the time, I simply wanted to get out of Belgrade. I could not rest unless I was always pushing onward. In Klausenberg, I met a farmer who said he would take me a few miles down the Hermannstadt road. And that is how it went. Every day, pushing onward, meeting someone kind enough to get me a little further on my way.”

“Charles, I am so sorry,” I murmured. “I never imagined that what I did would lead to this horrible journey for you.”

He stared at me, his eyes showing some hint of the old spaniel softness. “Horrible? It was the adventure of my life.”

“Adventure?”

“I rode with brigands in Serbia. I slept under the stars. I drove a herd of sheep to market. I have met the most extraordinary folk. I have never felt so alive in my entire life. Not that I wish to repeat the experience,” he finished with a warning look. “It has all been quite too wholesome and rough, and I am ready to be back amongst the civilised. I expect it will make for some rather good conversation at my club,” he added with a nod of satisfaction.

I sat in silent stupefaction. “I suppose it will at that. Well, you have given me my money and I will be happy to make you the loan of it for your return journey. The Dragulescus will loan you a horse and a man to guide you back to Hermannstadt. That is the nearest train station. You can replace your passport there as well, I imagine.”

I rose, but he put down his spoon. “Not so quickly, if you please. I may have completed my errand, but I cannot leave you without making certain you are quite all right. As I said, you look different to me. Tell me about the death in the castle and about this count fellow.”

I told him, haltingly at first, then more quickly as I warmed to my theme. I was so relieved to have a confidant that I told him more than I had intended, with the solitary and notable exception of my feelings for the count.

Charles’s expression grew increasingly thunderous as the conversation wore on, particularly when I made mention of the strigoi and the savage lupine habits of the Popa men. When I finally reached the agreement we had all made to keep Aurelia’s death secret, he could contain himself no longer.

He dashed his spoon to the table and burst out with, “Is that all? A vampire killer stalking the castle? Are you quite certain there aren’t any banshees in the stables? A werewolf in the library? Oh, I forgot, the werewolves are outside in the forest. How stupid of me!”

I rose and spoke with as much dignity as I could muster. “If you are not going to be serious, there is no point in having this discussion.”

“I am serious, Theodora. What has happened to you? You know this is nonsense. You are a student of folklore. You know that every people has its superstitions, and you know them for what they are-tales to frighten children. You know there is a logical and rational explanation for everything that happens. That is what separates us from these poor superstitious folk who live their lives in fear of the bogeyman. You’ve a fine mind, my dear. Use it,” he instructed tartly.

“You do not understand! You did not see that body, that awful body. I tell you it was not a human responsible for what happened to that girl. It was something less than a man. And how else can you account for the death? You must at least allow for the possibility of some supernatural agency.”

“I could offer half a dozen possibilities,” he replied, his tone calm and reasonable. “And none of them supernatural. For instance, one of these wandering Popa fellows. They have the whole countryside convinced they are wolves, but I say it is a tremendous fraud. What married man would not like to leave his family and carouse with his brothers? Perhaps their antics got out of hand and they killed the girl. Perhaps a wandering pedlar or Gypsy did the deed. Perhaps it was an accident or suicide. Perhaps her sister, this Tereza, was jealous over a trifle and decided to dispose of her.”

I shuddered. “How cold you are.”

He pulled an indignant face. “I am pragmatic, Theodora. And so you should be. You are an Edinburgher. You were raised with the tales of Burke and Hare, stealing bodies from graveyards and murdering unsuspecting folk to sell their bodies to the cadaver schools. You know that man is capable of any horror towards his fellow man, and that may be doubly true of women. The most fiendish creatures I have ever known have worn skirts and the Devil’s own smile.”

“What about the corpse of Count Bogdan?” I demanded. “How can you account for the state of it, plump and rosy and brimming with blood? It was unnatural.”

“Was it?” he asked. “Theodora, I have never seen a corpse some weeks dead, but my youngest brother has. During his medical studies, he told such tales as would frighten the heart of the stoutest man at the brightest noon. His stories from the dissecting room are larded with folk who gasp and moan and roll their eyes when they are touched-some even weeks after their deaths. It is all quite normal to a rational mind.”

I considered what he said. It seemed so reasonable couched in those terms. But he had not yet felt the pull of the black forests of the Carpathians, and he had not yet listened to the howling of the wolves under a silver moon.

“But what if it is just possible? This is not like other places, Charles. Things happen here that do not happen elsewhere. I cannot explain it except to say that what I have seen defies science.”

He fell silent a moment, stroking his chin as he thought. His hands were pale and soft, nothing like the hands of the count, with the wide smooth palms and the long, deft fingers.

“But even if your premise proves true, and there is no supernatural force abroad in this place, it would make no difference to my situation. I have promised Cosmina that I will remain, and I mean to honour my promise.”

He pushed his coffee away. It must have grown stone cold in any case. A skin wrinkled the top of it.

“I cannot leave you here until I have satisfied myself that you are in no danger.”

“I cannot leave,” I told him firmly.

“Theodora, I never thought you stubborn, but this-”

“It is not stubbornness,” I corrected. I hesitated. “It is the book.”

Charles’s attention was pricked. He sat forward in his chair, the last of his breakfast forgot as his eyes sharpened. “Go on.”

“I have begun it. And it is by far the best I have ever written. It will be the work that establishes me, solidly. It will be the foundation of everything I want to achieve. But I cannot write it without this place.”

He stared at me in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. “It is as if you are bewitched,” he said heavily.

I shrugged. “Perhaps I am. You always did say the best writers are half-mad,” I reminded him.

He gave me a gentle smile, but still his objections remained.

“Theodora, you are so caught up in the madness of this place that you cannot even see the absurdity of it all. A girl has died, and you are willing to believe it was some monster who did the deed. Your imagination is quite overwrought.”

“I cannot explain it, Charles. I only know that this place has fired my imagination like no other. I must stay to finish what I have begun.”