It couldn’t remember how many autumns had passed.
The important thing was that autumn always came, following summer as summer followed spring.
The Beast moved out from its lair in an ever-increasing spiral, searching for prey. It sniffed the ground and the air but picked up no game. Food was becoming scarce again. It would move on soon, to another den farther in the mountains. It was in a valley with good hunting, even in winter. The Beast had gone there many times, though it couldn’t remember how many.
It caught scent of a deer.
The Beast stood and sniffed the air until it knew where the creature was. It slipped back down on all fours and moved in an awkward springing lope, like a misshapen bear. It slipped through the brush and around trees until it reached a tiny clearing. A doe stood under a tree near the edge of it. Its ears were up, and it was scared, but it wasn’t moving.
The Beast stared at it and sniffed at the air. Something was wrong. The Beast didn’t know what, but something was off. Still, there was a deer and the Beast was hungry. It hadn’t had deer for weeks. The Beast crept forward. The deer tried to move but couldn’t get up. The Beast moved closer and closer, its eyes darting around the clearing. Something was wrong. The Beast wanted to leave and almost did. But it was hungry.
And what the Beast knew best was that hunger always won.
It sprang and sank its teeth into the doe’s neck.
There was a rush of air and sudden movement through the ground. A net, concealed beneath the autumn leaves, sprang up, sending the Beast and the doe into the air.
The Beast screamed and began slashing at the net. A dozen men—humans—leapt out of the bushes. Their bodies were covered with rabbit skins and dirt to conceal their scent. They rushed forward and jabbed at the Beast’s arms and legs with long poles topped with thick metal loops. One got around the Beast’s foot and pulled. The loop went tight, holding it in place. The Beast pulled at the leg, dragging the human forward. The two on either side dropped their poles and helped the man before he fell. Another loop went around the Beast’s neck, then another around one of its hands. One by one, each limb was isolated and held. More men rushed out of the bushes to help hold the Beast in place. Someone blew into a whistle, and more men came. One cut the rope holding the net, and the Beast and the doe tumbled to the earth.
The Beast fought and squirmed and thrashed. The men held it firm and dragged it through the forest. Several times the Beast almost managed to break free, but more men came and held the poles and continued dragging it forward.
They pulled and pushed it into the back of a wagon made of iron, with a large iron cage on it. They closed the door and locked the Beast in. Then they tossed a blanket over the cage and began driving.
Days went by.
The blanket kept the sun’s light off the Beast, but not the dreadful heat. It spent its days huddled in a ball, whimpering. The nights it spent hurling itself at the bars. None of them gave way.
Then one night the men threw the blanket off and used the poles again. The Beast ran and fought and jumped around its cage, but the men caught it and dragged it out. They dragged it deep into the earth and tossed it in a stone room with an iron door and left it there in darkness.
The Beast had not eaten in weeks.
There was a noise and light. Men in iron with swords formed in front of the door. A woman dragged a girl down the hallway by her hair. The girl cried and begged as she was dragged in front of the door. She saw the Beast and began screaming. The woman beat her with a riding crop until the girl fell, weeping to the floor. The woman pulled her up by the hair.
The lock on the door clicked. The Beast crouched, ready to spring to freedom. The door opened, and the woman threw the girl into the room. The Beast, starving beyond all reason, pounced on her. Any screams the girl might have made were stopped as the Beast’s teeth ripped into her throat. It drank deep and fast, tasting human blood for the first time in more years than it could remember.
When she was done, Ruxandra rose to her feet. Her legs were unsteady, and she felt as if she might pass out. She stared at the woman on the other side of the door. She was tall and dark-haired and looked like a cat ready to lick cream.
Ruxandra struggled to form words. It had been so long since she’d spoken. Her tongue twisting, she managed to say, “Who . . . are . . . you?”
The woman smiled. “I am Countess Elizabeth Bathory. Welcome to Castle Csejte.”
Ruxandra shook her head, trying to understand. The world tilted and started to go black. She sank to her knees and looked up at the woman. Her last words before she passed out came out as a whisper:
“What have you done?”
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Princess Dracula. It was my honor and pleasure to write for you. Of course I was only relaying the information that my Ruxandra was providing, but I hope I did so with clarity and wonder. Thanks for joining me on this fun and wild ride!
Get ready for many more adventures.
Also, if you’re so inclined, I’d love a review of Princess Dracula. Without your support, and feedback my books would be lost under an avalanche of other books. While appreciated, there’s only so much praise one can take seriously from family and friends. If you have the time, please visit my author page on both Amazon.com and goodreads.com.
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Princess Dracula Page 16
