She opened her eyes and looked again, just to be certain. Yes. The Count lay motionless, eyes wide-open, Morgan’s knife sticking out of his neck, buried handle-deep.
Even through her pain, Betsy felt a grim satisfaction. Morgan had protected her sister. And in a moment of sudden clarity, her own life hanging in the balance, Betsy’s analyst mind solved a problem. She understood what Morgan had been talking about just moments before—and she knew how Morgan had protected her little sister years ago.
Betsy screamed for help, but no answer came. The tug of the icy current weakened her, and she knew it would soon carry her away.
The water no longer felt cold. It burned, a scorching heat. As she clung to the rock, she felt as if her mind was already drifting with the current, floating gently away into a dream.
As her fingers finally lost their grip, she heard a shout.
“Betsy! Betsy!”
In her dream, it was John’s voice.
We could have been happy.
She let it go—along with everything else she remembered about her life—and as the stream swirled her away, she heard her father’s voice in her mind again. Nothing human is alien to me.
Chapter 118
BATHORY CASTLE DUNGEON
HIGH TATRA MOUNTAINS, SLOVAKIA
DECEMBER 29, 2010
Grace sobbed as she clung to John.
“John! Betsy—he pushed her—”
John held her tight enough to feel her heart beating.
“There is an underground river,” he said. “I can hear it.”
The police were questioning half a dozen girls they had freed from the dungeons. John broke in.
“Are any of you from here?”
“I am,” said Draska.
He pointed at the dark opening. “Where does this river go?”
Draska shook her head. “I do not know. Waters come out of rock everywhere.”
John looked at Grace, then Daisy.
“Daisy, can you look after Grace—this is Betsy’s mother.”
John stopped. Daisy’s face was taut, haunted with grief.
“Are you OK?” John asked.
“Go, John. I’ll look after her, I promise.”
“You are Betsy’s mother?” said Daisy.
Grace covered her eyes with her hands, crying silently.
“Then you have to find her.”
Grace didn’t answer.
Daisy gently pulled Grace’s hands away from her eyes.
“You can, you know.”
“Leave me alone, please.”
“I can’t do that. Time is running out.”
“You are as insane as the rest of them. There is nothing I can do now.”
“Yes, there is. I had dreams that led me here. But I never dreamed the ending.” Daisy searched Grace’s eyes. “There’s a piece missing, and I think you have it. You know the ending. Don’t you?”
“I don’t have any information,” Grace said, fighting her sobs. She turned away. “Leave me alone.”
Daisy looked down at her bandaged wrist. She winced with grief, her stray tooth exposed.
“Are you ready to live with the fact that your daughter is dead?”
Grace snapped her head around, outraged.
“You are cruel!”
“No, I’m not. I think you have the answer, and you’re not sharing it. The Red Book says we are all connected,” said Daisy. “The collective unconscious, pooled universal knowledge—”
“Shut up! You’re making no sense!”
“You have the missing piece of the puzzle, I know it!” Daisy shouted at her.
“You are delusional. The blood loss. I’m not like my daughter. I’m not like my husband. I don’t dream. And I am not a Bathory.”
“Neither am I,” Daisy said. “But you are her mother, she came here searching for you. There has to be a connection, I know it.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“Please, Grace, help me! Come with me. Please?” Daisy began to tremble, her teeth chattering.
“This girl is in shock!” said Grace, but no one heard her, except Draska.
“For your daughter’s sake!” pleaded Daisy.
Daisy took Grace’s arm and led her to the edge of the pit. Grace shuddered when she heard the rush of the river below.
“Think,” said Daisy. “No, don’t think. Remember. Where does this river flow?”
“I don’t know. How could I—”
“Have you ever dreamed of a river? A river flowing beneath rocks?”
“Go away!” Grace said, turning away from her. “Don’t touch me.”
Draska watched Grace walk away from Daisy.
The Slovak girl approached Grace, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Listen to her,” she said. “She is trying to help.”
Grace lifted her face from her hands, looking at the girl who had risked her life to send a message to her daughter. Draska’s breath was sour with fear and adrenaline.