“Did he send you to torment me?”
Lucifer does not answer. Instead, he fusses with my dress, smoothing the lace and ruffles of my sleeves and skirt. He is very particular about appearances and obsesses with setting things right. It is a weakness that can be exploited in the proper circumstances, but it is rather annoying to see him fussing with my surroundings. He even bends over to collect my slippers from the floor and slides them onto my feet. I am tempted to kick them off for the sole purpose of frustrating him, but it is in my best interests not to rile the devil when I am in such a weakened state. I am curious about his unexpected appearance in the mausoleum. Is he here for his own duplicitous means, or Vlad’s? They are mostly enemies, but sometimes they band together against a common foe.
Kicking at Magdala’s rotting corpse, he sneers. “Vlad really should keep it tidier for you since you are the grand love of his life according to his passionate exclamations and bitter cursing whenever I visit him.”
My laughter is mocking. “Yet, here I am.”
“Oh, we both know that you are here because he cannot bring himself to kill you despite your betrayal. If he merely loved you as one of his possessions, you would be long dead. If he did not love you and was done with your wretched presence, you would be cast out to survive on your own against all manner of monsters and vampire hunters. But this is a true demonstration of passion. This, Erzsébet—” Lucifer traces his fingertips down the iron stake “—is true love.”
“I prefer fine gifts suited to my station to impalement.”
Lucifer tsk-tsks. “Really, Erzsébet. You must appreciate the passion he poured into this most delicious of punishments.”
“If you so admire his handiwork, perhaps you can use it in hell,” I reply crossly.
“Oh, come now. You know I do not exist there. That is propaganda espoused by my enemies. I am the god of this world and I rule it as I see fit. The attempts of my foes to deny me my due will not end well for their institutions.”
The façade of the romantic dandy slips and the calculating manipulator is revealed for a mere second as he defends his station. I am glad to see the serpent lingering within the handsome man whose proclivity is destruction. It is a reminder not to be swayed by his charm.
“Why are you here, Lucifer? Is it time for the Scholomance to open? Do you crave yet another powerful dark soul to devour?”
“None has been as tasty as your sister’s.” His bland tone is belied by his malicious gaze.
My hands start to clench into fists, but I force them to stay pressed to my ribs. I will not show weakness to this foul beast. Ágota’s fate haunts me, for much of what happened is still a mystery. Is he lying? Or is this the truth? I resist the urge to curse at the devil for teasing me so cruelly, for he will only find it amusing that he could rile me so easily.
After a few long, strained moments, I recover my temper and say, “Unfortunate that you did not devour my dear husband as payment for his tuition in the black arts.”
“He is a wily one. I will never forgive him for outwitting me. He would have been a delicious feast.” Lucifer takes off his hat and shakes out his golden curls with rakish flair. “As you may have ascertained, I am not here at his behest, but my own.”
“That is no consolation.”
His touch is warm. Fiery sparks trail over the path his fingers rake along my décolletage. “Ah, but I do not love you enough to plunge an iron stake through your body. I merely find you sufficiently compelling to present you with a proposition. You know I admire pretty, powerful objects of all sorts.”
I slap his hand from my bosom. “I am not a pretty object for your collection in the Scholomance.”
Flicking my nose with his finger, he says, “Be nice, Erzsébet. I come as a friend.”
Riled by his impertinent behavior, I hiss at him with my fangs bared. “You are no friend, which we both know. Speak your peace and begone, devil!”
Eyes flashing dangerously with brilliant white flames, he rests his hand on the stake. My pain returns in a great red wave. The agony of the stake is magnified, wrenching a scream from my lips. I thrash my arms and legs, knocking my slippers from my feet. It is as though I am impaled anew, the shock of the wound leaving me awash in blinding torment.
Lucifer releases his hold on the stake and the pain vanishes. I fall back on the bier, shuddering.
“Where were we? Oh, yes. You did inquire about my esteemed school of the black arts. The answer is yes, the portal to the Scholomance shall once more open in Lake Hermanstadt in the very near future and I have chosen you as one of my students.”
“Vlad’s power has me prisoner. None can break the curse but he.” Rage compels me to bite off every word, but he takes no notice, or perhaps my venomous response pleases him. “All attempts to free me are for naught.”
“Ah, but you are wrong, dearest Erzsébet. Vlad’s black magic was born from my instruction. Should I wish to free you, I can.”
A flash of hope fills me, but is rapidly quashed for there will be a high price to secure my freedom. Yet, I am willing to listen to his proposal.
“Ah, I have piqued your interest. In exchange for you becoming one of my students, I shall free you from this abysmal place and grant you all you desire.” The devil leans over me with an alluring glint in his eyes. “Imagine! Freedom from pain. The ability to feast on whichever mortal dares cross your path. Seductions of delectable young men, and if I remember your tastes correctly, lovely golden-haired women. I will give you wealth and security for one year. And when the portal opens, we shall enter it together. At the Scholomance, I will teach you the dark arts and imbue you with power that will make you Vlad’s equal.”
“And at the end of the ten years of learning, you will consume one of your empowered students as payment for our tuition. Chances are that will be me, correct?”
Lucifer shrugs, grinning mischievously. “Who is to say? The selection is random. A drawing of straws. What are the chances it will be you? Most likely you will return to this world and wreak your vengeance on Vlad and reclaim Cneajna. Think of it, Erzsébet. All you desire if you submit to me.” Bending so close I can feel his warm breath on my lips, Lucifer whispers, “All you desire, Erzsébet. Say the words. Say the words you did not say so long ago.”
In the blink of an eye, I am in his arms as he dances with me around the bier. My bare feet scrabble over the filth collected on the floor as he drags my weakened body about. I gasp with relief, gripping his hand and shoulder tightly. I am unsteady as he twirls me, my long skirt flaring out about my ankles.
“We will dance in all the fine cities of the world. You and I will delight in the revelry as we travel to and fro across the earth collecting my students.”
The mausoleum disappears and a lavish ballroom blooms into existence. Ladies in fine gowns wearing opulent turbans glittering with jewels and sweeping ostrich feathers spin about me in the arms of their handsome male partners. Chandeliers glitter overhead lit by hundreds of small white candles casting golden light over elegant murals painted on the ceiling. The music swells, melodious and unfamiliar while the patter of dancing feet adds a delightful beat.
All is glorious and beautiful.
And then, much to my shock and delight, I see them.
Lady Glynis Wright, the flame-haired Bride of Dracula I thought dead at his hand, and my vampire brother, Ignatius d’Aubigné, cavort gaily among the revelers. Vlad had spoken with contempt and hatred of their secret affair he had uncovered while living in Buda, Hungary. He had plotted to separate them and draw Lady Glynis deeper into his power, yet…
Here there are!
Together!
Laughing and smiling, the two vampires dance beneath the murals of angels that hold no candle to their beauty. I stare as they glide past me, rapturous in their happiness. She is so small and delicate in a filmy white gown. Tucked into her red hair is an opulent pearl and diamond tiara that sparkles as brightly as her aquamarine eyes. The adoration in her gaze whe
n she regards Ignatius fills me with joy. And my brother! My maudlin brother who used to hide in his priest cassock and drift morosely through the world is dressed as a fine gentleman and, more shockingly, is smiling!
Tears flood my eyes. “Is this true, Lucifer? Did she escape Vlad? Is my vampire brother truly happy at her side?”
“This is true,” the devil answers while guiding my steps through the guests so we can follow in the couple’s wake.
When they depart the dance, Lady Glynis is besieged with young women in shimmering gowns while Ignatius joins a group of men drinking and boisterously conversing. Both are greeted warmly by the mortals that appear oblivious to their vampire nature. It is evident they have found a way to live openly in the human world without detection.
“At last one of us has thwarted Vlad! I must speak to her! I must know how she escaped!”
I jerk free from the devil’s grip to follow Lady Glynis and the opulent world vanishes.
Lucifer chuckles. “Oops! The spell is broken.”
In the aftermath of the inspiring vision, I tremble with overwhelming excitement beside the bier stained with my blood. Elated at the revelation that Lady Glynis has found happiness, I clasp my hands together as hope swells in my heart for my own future. Perhaps I can soon be liberated from this place and set forth to create a new life for myself. Maybe I could even find Lady Glynis and be reunited with my vampire brother.
And then I remember.
Lucifer is the father of lies.
As rapidly as joy filled me, it drains away, leaving me empty of hope and forlorn in defeat.
“Oh? Why the downcast look?” Lucifer tucks a finger under my chin to tilt my head so I face him. “You are free of the stake and have seen what your future may hold. Imagine you and Cneajna far from here, together.”
“This is an illusion. I am yet on the bier. This is all a lie so I will acquiesce to you.”
“Clever.” Lucifer clucks his tongue at me.
I am not surprised to find myself prone upon the bier, still impaled, with his hand upon my forehead.
“It may have been an illusion, Erzsébet, but it is also the truth.”
“You are not one to be trusted,” I reply. “You offer much, but only because you know if I agree you shall win. That is why Vlad vexes you so. He fooled you. You, the father of lies, tricked! And now you wish to abscond with me. This is your vengeance upon him. Steal away his true love and then consume her. I am not a fool, Lucifer!”
Digging his fingers into my hair, he twists my head about so he can glare at me with eyes of pure flame. “Perhaps I should just take you!” There is a hint of desperation in his voice that reveals a bit too much.
He is lying.
But why?
Something Ágota once said resurfaces from my deepest memories.
Some magic requires permission.
“You cannot take me by force,” I whisper, understanding that his threat is meaningless. “There is a provision to removing the curse! Vlad’s magic may have come from you, but you are both bound by the same rules of the curse!”
Lucifer sneers with contempt. “What nonsense are you speaking? I offer you liberation from this personal hell and you prattle on like an imbecile. Accept my proposal and be done with it.”
“Of course!” I discern the hidden requirement to the break the spell for he sounds very much like Vlad in his demands. “You need me to grant you permission! That is why Vlad always demands that I supplicate myself to his wishes! Neither one of you can release me unless I surrender my will to you!”
With a snarl, Lucifer pushes away from the bier. “You are as clever as your sister and mother! Far too clever! But remember their fate! It will one day be yours for defying me! Do you think I will forget this insult? This complete disregard for the offer of freedom and power that I do not dole out so frivolously?”
“Do you think me a fool? That I would believe you offer liberation out of the kindness of your heart? This is vengeance against Vlad for him tricking you and revenge against my bloodline! I am not a simpleton.”
“You are worthless!” Lucifer snatches his top hat from the end of the bier and sets it on his curls. “Weak, pathetic, and a poor representation of what was once a glorious race. If your sister and mother could see you now, they would put you out of your misery not out of mercy, but disgust. You are not even a witch anymore, but a vampire. A leech.”
“If I am so disgusting, then kill me!” I shout the words, fury enveloping me. I no longer care if I live or die. I will not be a pawn in his war with Vlad. I am done being hostage to the schemes of men.
Clenching his hand tightly, smoke billows forth from between his fingers, but he does not set me aflame. With an irritated sound, he paces about the bier, trailing a thick black haze.
“So you cannot kill me. Vlad’s magic thwarts you even now.” I sag against the platform and attempt to ignore the agitated devil.
“If only you had listened to my warnings,” Lucifer mutters.
“Warnings? You mean threats.”
“Your sister was far too obtuse to even grasp the veracity of my warning. She doomed you, you know. All of this is Ágota’s handiwork. She destroyed herself and you. For what? To spite me!”
“You murdered our mother! You held her down so she would burn! Why would we listen to the venomous advice dripping from your lips?”
“If she had listened, you would not be here,” Lucifer retorts. “You know the truthfulness of that statement.”
The devil is correct and it leaves a bitter heaviness in my chest.
“I take your silence as acquiescence to the truth,” he says.
“You should have let us be.”
“Ah, that was not even a choice. I love power. I am drawn to it. You know this.”
For ten years after the death of our mother, Ágota and I had been safe from Lucifer while he was occupied teaching his students at the Scholomance. I had been naïve to believe we had fully escaped him, though Ágota had always known he would make an appearance again.
To my surprise, I sense the curse stirring, preparing to whisk me away to the past. The magic obviously has no regard for who might be close at hand when it seizes me.
“What is this?” Lucifer whispers, intrigued. “What is this sliver of magic coiling about you?”
“It is the only escape I truly have,” I reply with a sigh.
The mausoleum grows hazy as the magic grows insistent. I am dragged into my memories, the crypt fading into darkness.
Before I awaken in the past, I hear Lucifer say in disbelief, “This is witch magic!”
And then I open my eyes to see Ágota smiling down at me.
Chapter 16
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I groggily sit upright, pushing the covers down about my waist. The morning light streams through the high windows of my bedroom in Balázs’s castle, yet I am shrouded in shadows. The cause is Ágota standing on my bed, leaning over me with a wicked grin upon her lips. In her long fingers is a sealed letter.
“Is that for me?” My cheeks flush and my heart flutters with anticipation. “Is it from him?”
Flipping the letter about so I can see the raven emblem imprinted in the wax seal, she says, “Why yes! It is from your betrothed!”
“Give it to me at once!” I order, holding out my hand.
Ágota fans herself with it, regarding me with a naughty expression. “At once you say? What could this letter possibly say that needs to be read at once?”
I am freshly awakened and in no mood for her nonsense. “Ágota!”
“Yes?”
“The letter! Now!”
Waving it before me, careful to keep it beyond my reach, my sister says, “You mean this letter?”
I lunge for her, but she bounces across my bed eluding me. I scramble after her, struggling to free myself from the covers. Ágota jumps around me, brandishing the letter. Her laughter taunts me as I untangle my nightgown. I lunge for her, but she leaps away from me
toward the end of the bed, mocking my desperation.
“So slow!”
“Ágota, give it to me!” I command.
“Oh, what passionate declarations did he write this time? Shall I read it and see?”
“You would not dare! It is mine!”
“What was it he wrote last time? Oh, yes! I long to taste your sweet berry lips! I wonder which lips he meant!”
“Ágota!”
“He has become such a romantic! What did he call your eyes again? Golden fires of passion?”
“Give me the letter!” I manage to climb to my feet and face her. I hold out my hand imperiously.
Ágota slides one finger under the flap, threatening to break the seal. “How about I read it to you?”
“No! Not again!” I made the mistake of leaving one letter upon my bed and Ágota tormented me by reading aloud the most syrupy portions.
It has been a month since I last heard from Albrecht. Ever since I turned sixteen, he has been making a concerted effort to maintain a steady correspondence with me. I love reading about his life far away in Styria. I often imagine what he must look like now, a man of twenty-one. I am certain he is the most handsome man in the world. With my seventeenth birthday approaching, his letters have become much more amorous in tone as our impending nuptials loom before us.
With a gleeful grin, she breaks the seal and lunges to one side as I attempt to catch her. Floating out of my grasp, she dangles in the air while snapping the pages open. “My precious Erzsébet, as I sit at my desk at this late hour, know that these words are not written only in ink, but also with my most avid adoration.”
I leap after my sister, grabbing her wrist. We spin about in the air in a battle for Albrecht’s letter. Ágota blows on it, turning it into a bird that flutters across the room to land on the windowsill.
“Not fair, Ágota!” I shove her away with annoyance and drop to the floor.
My sister howls with laughter while drifting through the air, clutching her stomach.
Cautiously, I approach the avian poppet. The wax seal flakes off as the bird preens feathers made of parchment. The poppet tilts its head toward me, an eye made of one of Albrecht’s florid ‘O’s, watching me suspiciously. It hops forward on scrawny legs made of twisted paper.
The Impaled Bride Page 17
