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doubtfully at her reflection in the mirror. She supposed she didn’t look much like a serious academic. Like most of her clothes—old, and picked up from charity shops in Scotland—this Gypsy print skirt and loose cotton top, together with her long, damp, unstyled hair, made her appear younger than her true twenty-nine years. She had little gravitas and nothing, she suspected, in the way of presence. But this was all there had ever been, and it would have to do.
    She crossed to the door to face her pranksters. At least she’d find out how they did it. She hoped it would prove stunningly clever, just so she didn’t feel such a gullible fool.
    Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
    They still stood there in the narrow passage, leaning against the walls, breaking off a whispered conversation to straighten up and gaze at her from serious, anxious eyes.
    “Come in,” Elizabeth said with resignation.
    They filed inside, just a little self-consciously, and sat side by side on her hastily made bed, glancing at one another with what seemed to be nervousness.
    Good. Serves you bloody right.
    Refusing to make it easy for them, she stood there and waited. It was good practice for the next year when students would line up before her like this to make excuses for not handing in essays.
    Glancing from the fair man to the dark one, she was sure neither of them had played the part of Saloman. She was glad of that. She never wanted to lay eyes on that character ever again. She did wonder how much of it they’d seen, although she’d been pretty sure at the time there had been no one else in the crypt.
    Konrad took a deep breath and spoke. “Miss Silk, are you aware what you did last night?”
    She let a cynical smile twist her lips. “I’m aware I was set up, if that’s what you mean.”
    “Set up?” He frowned.
    Perhaps she’d gotten the phrase wrong. Spelling it out, she said, “Dmitriu sent me to Sighesciu. I’m presuming you three and your other friend set up the tomb and the dust to scare the pants off me. Congratulations—you succeeded. But I won’t bear a grudge, especially if you give me a genuine lead this time to Saloman’s death.”
    Glancing along the line of open mouths, she was sure they wouldn’t be able to do that either. Saloman would remain a mystery, a side note in her thesis that this was one case that didn’t fit, possibly because several different characters had become confused over the centuries.
    Konrad said, “Dmitriu? The vampire Dmitriu sent you to Sighesciu?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake!” Elizabeth whirled around, pointing at the door. “Close it behind you, please, and don’t bother coming back. The only reason I let you in this time was because I foolishly imagined you’d come to apologize.”
    “Apologize?” Mihaela sounded so baffled that Elizabeth itched to slap her.
    “Don’t push it,” she snapped. “I admit you got me. You fooled me. You scared me shitless. Congratulations. But it’s not dark anymore, and contrary to apparently popular belief, I’m not a complete moron. It’s over. I know you tricked me. Now go. And if I ever set eyes on any of you again—or Dmitriu or your ‘vampire’ friend—I’ll report your assault to the police. Good-bye.”
    She was rather pleased with that rant, but it didn’t have quite the effect she’d hoped for. Instead of shuffling out with half-embarrassed giggles, they sat perfectly still behind her back, and when Konrad spoke, it was with an air of helplessness that ate at her cynicism.
    “Miss Silk, please . . . We had nothing to do with hurting you. We were nowhere near Sighesciu yesterday. But if you were assaulted, we need to know in what way.”
    “Guess.” Elizabeth turned back to glare at him.
    His gaze slid away, down to her throat, then back up to her face. “He bit you, he drank your blood, but he let you live—”
    “Why did he let her live?” István, the darker man, interrupted.
    “Perhaps he wasn’t strong