Bathed In Blood. Alex Archer

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СКАЧАТЬ then looked back at the speaker. “He’s talking about that woman they brought in last night.”

      “I don’t speak Magyar. Could you translate for me?”

      She nodded. “The old guy is Sándor, the—how do you say—police inspector?”

      Annja guessed she meant police chief but didn’t bother to correct her.

      “He’s saying the case is important and that he has his best detective, Alexej Tamás, on the case. He’s going to give the microphone to the detective, let him speak.”

      Sándor stepped away from the podium and Tamás took his place. The detective looked as if he’d had a good night’s sleep, which irritated Annja.

      He should’ve been up all night, combing that ridgeline for evidence, she thought sourly. She was starting to dislike Detective Tamás, and what he said next only served to irritate her further.

      “The detective claims they are putting the proper resources into place to investigate this tragedy,” the girl said. “He says they’re still uncertain as to whether it was an accident, a crime or a suicide, but they hope to have more information in the next twenty-four hours.”

      “Accident?” Annja muttered, feeling her fury rising. “What on earth is he talking about? There’s no way it could be either an accident or a suicide!”

      The girl looked at her again, but this time her gaze lingered and Annja recognized the gleam of interest in her eyes.

      “You know something, don’t you?” she asked.

      Annja grimaced, realizing she’d said more than she’d intended, but perhaps she could turn this to her advantage.

      “Keep translating and I’ll fill you in on what I know afterward.”

      “Promise?”

      “Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up three fingers. The fact that Annja had never even thought about being a Girl Scout was completely beside the point.

      There wasn’t much more after that, however. Tamás spoke for another minute—mostly platitudes about doing all they could to get to the bottom of things—and then took a few questions from the press. They still hadn’t identified the woman and asked for the press’s help; photographs of the woman’s face were circulated through the crowd, and Annja took one for herself.

      When the press conference wrapped up, she was more frustrated than when she’d arrived.

      “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

      Annja turned to find the girl staring at her, studying her features more closely this time.

      “I don’t think so,” she told her, looking away.

      But the girl would not be denied.

      “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, I have! You’re that woman from the TV show, the one that was just filming in Prague.”

      Annja glanced around, afraid one of the journalists would overhear and take an interest in what was making the girl increasingly excited. She needed to get off the street.

      “Not here,” she said, grabbing the girl’s hand and pulling her through the crowd. “Come on.”

      Annja led the girl to a café a short distance down the street. They settled into a table in back. Annja ordered coffee for both of them; she really didn’t want any but knew the waitstaff would hover until they ordered.

      When she turned back, she found the girl grinning at her, holding up her cell phone. A picture of Annja working with the film crew outside Faust House was displayed on the screen.

      “You’re Annja Creed, from Chasing History’s Monsters,” the girl said triumphantly. “My friend is a huge fan, so we went to watch you filming your show in Prague.”

      Annja couldn’t deny it now, not with her own picture staring back at her, so she went with the flow, hoping to learn something useful from the situation. The girl had helped her after all.

      “You’re right. You’ve caught me. I’m Annja. Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

      “Brigitta,” the girl replied, shaking Annja’s hand. “My friend is going to flip when I tell her I had coffee with you.”

      “Yes, well, about that...” Annja began. “Perhaps you can wait a few days before doing so?”

      Brigitta was watching her closely. “You’re not here on vacation, are you? You’re working, and whatever you’re working on has to do with the woman from the press conference, doesn’t it? That’s why you know what happened!”

      Brigitta was no slouch, Annja had to give her that.

      “Yes, I’m working. And it might have to do with the woman they were just talking about. I’m not sure yet, though, and that’s why you can’t tell your friend about meeting me. If word gets out that I’m here, I’ll have a difficult time finding the information I need.”

      The girl’s eyes had gotten wider as Annja spoke, and now she leaned forward.

      “It’s the Blood Countess, isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “She’s come back, just as legend claimed.”

      Annja was shocked. That was twice in less than twenty-four hours that she’d heard Báthory’s nickname floated about. Granted she was in Báthory country, but still...

      “What legend is that?”

      Brigitta laughed. “Right. Like the host of Chasing History’s Monsters doesn’t know the legend of the Blood Countess’s return?”

      “Humor me,” Annja said with a smile.

      “After she was tried and convicted of bathing in the blood of all those women, the king had her walled up inside her own bedroom suite as punishment for her crimes. You know about that, right?”

      Báthory hadn’t gone to trial, was never convicted and was walled up inside her bedroom at the request of her own family, but that was beside the point, apparently. Annja just clenched her teeth and nodded, seeing no need to correct her companion.

      “She lived for four years—four years, can you imagine that!—before they found her dead on her bedroom floor.”

      “Yes, that’s true,” Annja said. “But that’s nothing new. Most people who know anything about Elizabeth Báthory’s history know that.”

      “Yes, but what they don’t know is that Báthory wrote a message in blood on her bedroom wall before she died.”

      Uh-huh, Annja thought. Aloud she said, “And that would be...?”

      The girl’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll be back,” she said, in what was quite possibly the worst Austrian accent Annja had ever heard.

      As Annja sat there, staring at her without expression, Brigitta burst into laughter. “I had you! I totally had you!”

      Annja СКАЧАТЬ