I had to remind myself that the violence had been long ago, the local curse was simply a story. My rational brain understood those things, and yet my footsteps hurried back to the south wing, keen to direct my thoughts elsewhere. I slipped into the building and rushed to the kitchen, where I heard the sound of bread going into a toaster.
“Oh, hey. I almost locked the door, good job I didn’t.” She smiled and offered a hand to shake, still dressed in blue pyjamas, dark hair falling over one eye. “I’m Jules.”
“Cath.”
“Cool. Irene mentioned you’d be arriving late last night.”
“I went for the cheapest flight. It ended up being a bad idea.” I began opening cupboards searching for a glass, and Jules pointed me in the right direction.
“Are you a writer?”
“Yeah,” I said, filling a glass with water. “But I write under a pen name, C. B. Finn.”
She nodded, but I knew it meant nothing to her. That never surprised me. No one ever recognised my name when I told them.
“I like your blog,” I said, referring to Jules Chen Shows You How to Adult, a popular blog and YouTube channel for millennials. “The financial advice is great. I have stocks and a pension now because of you.”
“That’s awesome.” She grabbed her toast from the toaster and started buttering.
“Have you met everyone else? What are they like?”
As her knife scraped along the surface of the bread, she smiled as though she was in on a private joke with herself. “Well, Irene is Irene, you know? She’s like a Valley Girl with a French accent. Then there’s Dan Mendoza who arrived first. He’s the fitness guy. Nice, too. Nathan should be here in an hour or two. He’s British like you, right?”
“I don’t know much about him to be honest.”
Jules raised her eyebrows. “Really? I guess I don’t know that much either. Except that he’s a megastar and rich as fuck.”
“Yeah, I heard that too. I’ve never seen his channel though, I’m not much of a gamer.”
She bit into her toast. “Me neither. Reckon we should make pancakes?” Holding the toast between her teeth she wandered into the utility room and pulled open the fridge door. I decided to make my own and stayed in the kitchen. “Nope,” she said from the other room. “Not enough milk. I know you Brits need at least ten cups of tea a day. My ex was from Bristol.” She wandered back in, the silk of her pyjamas swishing. “Is that anywhere near you?”
I shook my head. “I’m from Derby.”
“Maybe you’re not far from Nathan. I think he’s from Leeds,” Jules said.
I decided to put the kettle on and add coffee into the pot for the later risers.
“He could be. All I know is that his gamertag is The Yorkie.”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Always wondered about that. Isn’t that a dog?”
“It’s also a county. Yorkshire. Where Leeds is.”
“Cool. Well I’m going to get dressed. There’s a team meeting later.” She smiled sardonically at the word team. “Irene wants to brief us for the launch. We’re just waiting for Nathan.”
“That’s going to be weird,” I said.
“What?”
“Team meetings. It’s like we’re working in an office. I half-expect to turn around and see a watercooler.”
She laughed. “I know, right? Anyway, I don’t want to be in PJs for our first office meeting. I’ll see you later, Cath.” Jules sashayed out of the kitchen as my toast popped up, and I relaxed slightly. At least there was one normal person here, even if the others turned out to be strange.
After another hunt through the cupboards, I found strawberry jam, and popped a tea bag into a sturdy mug. Then I spent a few minutes searching for a quiet nook to eat. The kitchen was too modern and clinical, especially with the framed rules and the Loup logo above the door. It was at odds with the history of the place. Taking my tea and toast, I wandered through the open walkways and came to the cloister garth in the centre of the building. It was my first glimpse of the cherry tree, now covered with persimmon-coloured leaves and a deep russet bark. I was about to sit down on the lawn when I spotted a man talking into his phone. He set it down on the ground before lifting a leg, stretching out his arms, and holding what appeared to be a painful, contorted yoga pose. Dan, I supposed, a yogi and fitness instructor with thousands of followers. I knew of him but didn’t follow his account. Consistent exercise had never been my thing.
He didn’t see me, and I didn’t want to interrupt him, so I slipped away and continued along the walkway. Finally, I settled on the first step leading up to the tower, placing the mug next to me on the stone. It was cold beneath my backside, but I didn’t mind. The solitude was too delicious. Loup hadn’t touched this part of the building, helping to transport me back to another era.
The walls were still robust, but I could see dust crumbling out from between the stones. I thought of the bell, now gone, either removed by Loup or the nuns. After I ran out of toast and tea, my mind began to drift back to the murders. It was obviously my wandering mind that made me feel this way, but my scalp began to tingle. There was no one anywhere near me, and yet I felt the distinct sensation that I wasn’t alone.
Chapter Four
We had convened at the kitchen breakfast bar by the time Nathan MacDonald burst through the door talking to his phone.
“Guys, guys, you’re on Instagram Live,” he said, rotating the screen to include us. “Irene Jobert, ladies and gents.”
I watched Irene smile and wave to the camera before frowning as soon as he directed it elsewhere. We were supposed to be launching The Event together, but it seemed Nathan had other ideas.
“Oh shit, look at this place,” he said, dumping a suitcase on the ground. “Not bad for new digs.” For the first time, he regarded us all sitting around the counter and realised he’d walked into a meeting. “Wait, is this the launch meeting thingy? Hold on.” He signed off to his viewers by sticking out a tongue and making a peace sign, then slumped down in one of the stools. He gestured back to the door. “Traffic was awful.”
Jules rolled her eyes.
“We’re in the Carpathian Mountains,” Irene said. “There is no traffic.”
Nathan laughed and fidgeted with the corner of his hoody. I immediately saw the chaotic energy that buzzed around him. He was slim, thin faced, with acne scarring partially covered by patchy stubble. Every now and then he ran his hands over his mousy hair, or pulled at his sleeve, or tapped on the tabletop. He was younger than the rest of us, I found out later that he was nineteen. Jules was twenty-six, Dan was twenty-three and Irene was twenty-four.
“I checked your flight details,” Irene said. “Your plane wasn’t delayed either. Where have you been? It’s after three in the afternoon and you were due to arrive this morning.”
“Dracula experience. I had to,” he said. “What’s the point in coming to Transylvania and not doing a vampire thing?”
“Well, us launching our first day on time is a good reason not to,” Jules said, rolling her eyes again.
“This isn’t a vacation,” Dan chipped in. “We’re here to make money.”