“You feel that?” Trsiel whispered. He had his back to me, scanning the room, body held tight. As I stepped up beside him, he continued, “I told Katsuo—the angel who investigated—that I’ve felt something here, but he swore he didn’t.”

I stared at Trsiel, not so much because of what he said as how he said it. His lips never moved, yet I heard him clearly. He caught me staring.

“Sorry,” he said, still speaking telepathically. “Should have warned you. Is this okay?”

I nodded.

“Keeps things quiet. If you need to talk, just think the words.”

“Like this?”

He nodded. “And don’t worry, I can’t read your mind. It has to be a distinct thought aimed at me.”

“Like a communication spell.”

“That’s right.” He looked around, tensing again. “I don’t know how Katsuo couldn’t feel this.”

“You’ve been here before?” I asked.

A shrug. “Once or twice. Sightseeing.”

I doubted that.

“Split up?” I said.

He gave me a look that needed no telepathic explanation. I sighed. It was going to be a slow search.

As we headed deeper into the castle, my sense of disquiet grew, wavering between unease and something almost like anticipation. It wasn’t what I’d call a negative vibe…certainly not negative enough to scare away any ghost with an ounce of backbone. Still, it was unsettling. As we searched for what drew the Nix to the castle, Trsiel did his best to keep us both calm with a running telepathic commentary, part castle tour, part historical ghost-walk.

From the dining room, we went into the Great Hall, a long tunnel-shaped room with an ornate plaster ceiling and more paintings of family members, including some guy wearing a really strange-looking flesh-colored suit of armor.

Adjacent to the Great Hall was the chapel…and still more paintings of dead guys. These, I think, were the disciples, though my knowledge of Christianity is a bit sketchy. In the center of the wall, over a candle-covered table, was a painting of Jesus on the cross. That one I knew. What really caught my eye, though, were the paintings on the ceiling. Fifteen of them, showing various religious scenes and at least one winged cherub.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you.”

Trsiel smiled. “Ah, but you haven’t seen my baby pictures.” He looked around. “Now, this, in case you didn’t guess, is the chapel. Listen closely, and you might hear the scratching of a vampire, trapped forever within these walls.”

“There’s a lot trapped in these walls, isn’t there?”

“It’s a popular place. Do you want to hear about the vampire?”

“Let me guess, he infiltrated the castle as a servant or something, then they found him sucking the blood of some poor schmuck, and walled him up in here.”