Aria in Ice (31 page)

I forced myself to perk up again and join the
light-hearted conversation. Dessert had been served. That helped.
It was a rice pudding with unidentifiable spices and I mentally
added it to my list of “
where can I get this when I’m back in
Manhattan”
food choices. So I ate, I had coffee, I chatted
about tourist attractions throughout Europe. Once dinner was over,
Johnny, Shay and I said our goodbyes and walked back to the hotel
together.

“Abby, I’ll wait for you to pack a few
things,” Johnny stated.

“Pack?” Shay’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, Ms. Martin,” I responded, “the man said
pack. I told Johnny we’er going back to
Kouzlo Noc
tonight.
This time I’m bringing at least two changes of clothes, a coat, a
ton of make-up, boots—and dust jackets from Gothic romances I can
substitute for any other
‘aha! the truth’
journals I find
lying around.”

“Well, I’m coming, too. And while all that
shifting of dust jackets and journals and packing of boots and
cosmetics is well and good,” she stated, “Hell. The way this script
is headed, what we really need to pack is one damn big gun.”

Trust Shay the pacifist to suggest it.

Johnny, Shay and I stood outside of the back
entrance of
Kouzlo Noc
. We’d made the trip from the hotel in
under forty minutes, thanks to the nifty little rental Johnny had
picked up. It flew, without a single skid, over what was left of
icy roads. Nonetheless, it was close to eleven-thirty by the time
we’d parked, then walked up the hill to the castle.

I was just about to pull the
“Requiem”
tapestry chimes when it hit me. “Won’t Veronika think it’s odd that
we’ve shown up with our jammies and toothbrushes for another
sleep-over? At a very not-so-social hour to come calling?”

Johnny was amused. “She’ll be fine with it.
Hey, we have reasons. Excuses. Whatever you want to call them.
We’re guarding Marta. I need to work on the mural since I haven’t
been able to do much on it with all the rather intense events
unfolding. You ladies never got to do your room-to-room
surveillance to decide which scene goes where, so you figured why
not just do it at night and get a feel for each room without a ton
of people around?”

“I like it.” I pronounced. “Simple. Clean.
Enough truth to satisfy Sister Mary Mendacity.”

Shay groaned. “All except for the last
statement.”

“Huh?”

“Take a look. The crowd has arrived. Or as
you so eloquently put it the other day—the wandering whores.’”

They had. Our five dinner companions were
spilling out of two different vehicles. Corbin’ s Jeep and a cute
little sports number that made me immediately consider taking up
car- jacking. I wondered to whom it belonged. Then I realized that
the wanderers were all hauling luggage out of that Jeep and cute
little sports car and were obviously planning on staying at
Kouzlo Noc
along with the three of us. Lily led the way.

“Oh hell. Shay? Can I use my little quip
about ‘hordes’ and… .”

“No! So far you and Lily have not come to
blows, but if you make a crack using that not-so-nice term being a
word that is
way
too phonetically similar, she’ll walk and I
have no idea who’d replace her. Unless you want to play Constanze
and then Mitchell will kill me since you’re an alto and he’s
composed all these songs for her that are in coloratura soprano
land. Plus the costumes won’t fit since you’re a foot shorter than
she is.”

“You’re no fun.” I pouted.

“Oh, hush.”

By this time, Lily, Franz, Fritz, Mitchell
and Corbin were at the door with us. All were smiling and being
very chummy. I considered wiping a smile or two off a few faces by
tossing in the grenade that someone in this group killed Trina
Duskova. And why the hell they didn’t know that? Or they did know
that, suspected one and all, and were wandering in hordes to be
safe?

“Anyone pulled the, uh, pull yet?” asked
Mitchell.

No one had. So he tugged and we were rewarded
by hearing Mozart and his
Kyrie
.

As if the man had been waiting for hours for
just this event, the doors opened to reveal Jozef Jezek. For a
second he seemed slightly overwhelmed at the sight of eight people,
all bearing overnight bags of one sort or another, calmly waiting
underneath dragonheads to be given shelter at the castle. I prayed
he’d ask why in Amadeus we were descending on
Kouzlo Noc
at
this hour. I was primed and ready to hear the outrageous excuses.
But Jozef simply smiled. I transferred my hope that Veronika would
direct a tough inquiry to the group. The lies had to be delicious.
At least Shay and Johnny and I had plausible reasons for spending
the night. Well, they’d sounded that way when Johnny had outlined
them for us.

Jozef did shoot a sharp look at me. He’d been
expecting the original trio of Gerard, Martin and Fouchet to show
up and was welcoming a chance to exchange information. I was dying
to ask him about the journal (now safely tucked back in my bag with
the dust jacket to
Seduction of Countess Marissa
snugly
wrapped around it) and whether the reference to Ignatz was a major
clue. We just needed some alone time.

Jozef politely ushered one and all inside and
led us to the sitting room like a proper family butler keeping
silent about family misdeeds. The room had been straightened up
since I’d made my mad dash out of it this morning leaving my
clothes strewn over the sofa and fireplace poker. The blankets had
been neatly folded at some point and placed on a fragile chair near
the fireplace. Relief. I had no plans to share a room (unless with
Johnny) and the makeshift bed I’d put together last night had been
very comfortable. Shay tossed her bag into a far corner then sank
down on the sofa.

“I’m bunking with you, Abby,” she declared.
“Lily and I had a marvelous time last night,” she smiled at Miss
Lowe, “but I need to sleep and Abby needs to sleep so I figure we
won’t keep each other up all night with scintillating conversation.
We’ve been roommates for long enough now that we’re not
scintillating much anymore.”

Sister Mary Mendacity would have chased Shay
up, down and sideways and whapped her with a ruler a foot wide for
all those fibs, but Lily didn’t seem to take offense.

“That’s just as well. I enjoyed talking with
you too, Shay, but I need my sleep, and it will be nice to have the
bedroom alone.”

She’d emphasized the word “alone” just enough
to make it obvious that that was the last thing Miss Lowe desired,
but I wasn’t sure who’d be the first male to challenge the
statement by knocking on her door at midnight. The only men I could
rule out with absolute certainty were Mitchell, unless he’d
suddenly turned bi-sexual overnight and Johnny, who’d hopefully be
sleeping with me albeit as a part of a platonic threesome since
Shay’d made her plans to do the roommate thing.

I glared at both Lily and Shay. Staking out
claims to bedrooms before we’d even been invited—hell- just barely
given permission—to spend the night at all was really pretty rude.
Shay winced and I knew she’d been too tired to realize what she was
saying. She was now struggling to find a way to repair that
particular
faux pas
so I spoke for her. “How is Marta? Shay
and I have been so worried about her all day? Has she had a chance
to eat anything? And is her head hurting less?”

Veronika beamed. Shay’s fall from grace and
lack of courtesy was forgiven. Probably wasn’t even noticed. “Marta
iss so much better this night. She hass taken soup and some bread.
She says her head does not hurt like before. She iss sleeping now.
Doctor from village gave her drops to rest. I tell her tomorrow how
you ask. Oh! Abb-ee! She says early today how much grateful she iss
for you riding to village to bring help.” She grabbed both of my
hands and squeezed. “I am most grateful also. You haf save her
life.”

The savior bit was kind of pushing my
contribution to Marta’s recovery since she’d only suffered a broken
wrist and a concussion but it was still nice to be appreciated for
my bravery. I hugged Veronika, who made her “good-nights” then
left, escorted by Jozef.

I started wondering about the Village of No
Name. Did it really exist? Had it sprung up out of need in the
blizzard and then disappeared like a Czech
Brigadoon
, only
to reappear a hundred years from now when another desperate rider
came dragging in begging for help for someone else injured at
Kouzlo Noc
?

Veronika didn’t even ask why all her
houseguests from the horrible previous night had arrived on her
doorstep to camp at the castle again.
‘Well, gee, Madam D., we
all came for the great chow and even better séances.’
She
merely smiled at everyone and announced that it was late and she
was heading off to bed and if everyone wanted to take the same beds
they’d had last night they were most welcome. Bless the woman;
she’d even found time, while Marta lay recovering, to wash sheets.
I’m lucky if I get to mine once a month.

Shay and I were the only folks who remained
in the sitting room once Veronika had graciously issued that polite
invitation to stay. No one seemed very interested in chatting,
which was fine with me. I’d had enough chat for the last couple of
days with these same people and I wasn’t up for any further life
revelations, no matter how juicy and scandalous. I wasn’t thrilled
when Johnny left, stating he needed to try and sleep for a
change.

We’d barely changed into sweats (I’d been
kidding about the pajamas) and arranged the bedding to our mutual
satisfaction when the mantel clock struck midnight and we heard
knocking.

“ I’m getting a bad feeling of déjà vu,” I
muttered. “Are the dragons outside the door yapping or is someone
tap, tap tapping at the chamber door?”

“I hate to say it, but we have another
guest,” Shay growled.

“Who the heck is left to pop into this scene?
The
Klezmer Volny Rabin
? The operatic troupe we saw doing
Magic Flute
? The
Marionette Theater Company
? Katya,
the No Name Village eldress, wanting her folk dance costume back?
Well, I left it in my hotel room in Prague so she can’t have it.
Besides, she said I could keep it. I plan to wear it to my next
audition.”

“Will you shut up? Come on, Abby, roust
yourself out of bed—or floor. I’m not going alone.”

We threw blankets over our shoulders and
headed for the back door. We opened it cautiously. And stood in
sheer silent disbelief as Auraliah Lee stepped inside.

I sighed. “I hate to ask this, but are we
about to be witness to another evening of resurrecting the dead and
lifting curses and blessing the tormented souls of the Duskova
lineage? Because, honestly, if that’s the case, I’d just as soon
opt out and, oh heck, scrub the floor in the north wing.”

“Oh, darlin’. No! Of course not. No more dead
people tonight. Ah can’t do more than one big séance every couple
of days. Just wears ma bones out.”

Aura Lee breezed in and headed straight to
the sitting room. Shay and I followed like sleep-deprived sheep.
Once inside this makeshift bedroom, our soul-saving psychic dropped
the long black trench coat she’d favored this night over last
night’s cape. I blinked. Shay blinked. Then my breathing began to
come in spurts and sweat began pouring down my spine in an effort
not to imitate signature lines of internet postings and ‘roll on
the floor laughing’.

Tonight’s ensemble was a fairy costume. Pink
tutu over a white leotard with a pink bolero vest attempting—and
failing—to hide Aura Lee’s ample bosom. Her wig was a multi-colored
‘fro topped by a silver tiara so huge it blocked any vision behind
it. Her feet were encased in dark brown combat boots with pink bows
at the tops. Her cosmetics looked like a cross between Nineteen
Sixties Carnaby street models and Seattle Goth bands. The silver
tiara resting between the bangs and the top of her head was so huge
it blocked any vision behind it. I’d’ve had a migraine within
seconds of attaching that thing. The fact that the tiara was
bejeweled with rhinestones that encased twinkling lights was a
plus. Great way to see at night without having to hold a
flashlight. She kept waving a wand that had to be two feet in
length, with an added six inch star at its peak, in every
direction.

Aura Lee resembled one—no—make that
all
three fairies in
Sleeping Beauty
after the gals
had spent a day at the mall and a dancewear store going out of
business.

The happy medium was oblivious to the effect
she was having on a stunned and hysterical Abby Fouchet. Which is
to say she ignored any trace of snickers emanating from my mouth
and nose.

She pulled a cigarette holder longer than one
of the fireplace pokers (okay, that’s slightly exaggerated) out of
an enormous tote bag, found a crumpled pack of cigarettes, pushed
the only one that appeared intact into the holder, lit the
cigarette, coughed and choked for three seconds, then threw the
entire holder and cigarette into the fireplace. She giggled. “Ah
just shouldn’t try ta smoke these nasty things. Ah keep hopin’
it’ll help me slim down some, but it just doesn’t seem to work.
Perhaps I should try ta inhale?”

There was no reasonable answer to this. Aura
Lee didn’t expect one. She went right on. “So, did y’all have a
good time at last night’s séance? Wasn’t it fun?”

Fun would not have been my first choice of
words. Hell and emotional exhaustion would have come closer to
describing that little party. And now she was back to torment
me.

Aura Lee sat down on one of the embroidered
chairs and gracefully tugged her skirt over her knees. “Well, let’s
get on with it.”