“We know a lot of things here,” he answered cryptically. “We do the Lord’s work so He helps us in our quest.”
“Your quest?” More religious trash. Though I came from a fervently religious family and city, I had always been particularly suspicious of the Church. My parents cherished the priests in our parish and I knew my mother frequently secretly visited the Catholic Monsignor in times of trouble. I would often catch her in moments of prayer to her Virgin statues when she thought no one was watching. For me, however, the feeling was not the same. I could see that the clergy preached one code of living and practiced another and though they spoke about Jesus’ love they seldom seemed to act accordingly.
“Yes child, our Divine Quest, which is to rid the world of Lucifer’s children in order to enable the Second Coming,” he said interrupting my thoughts.
“Lucifer’s children,” I repeated in disbelief and awe at what I was hearing. Was this really what we were?
“You see my dear, we here believe that all people are born to this world with the burden of Original Sin. Some of us strive to improve through prayer, piety and charity in order to reach His Eternal Kingdom in death. Others like you, however, are weak and when tested by the Devil succumb to him, and in exchange for an unnaturally long life he allows you to live solely in order to conduct his vile work.”
I did not understand how simply by being attacked one night in the woods and forced to change by this condition I had been tempted by the Devil, failed to deny him and therefore been branded as his own. Could I have resisted and gotten better? Could I have lived a normal mortal life had my faith been strong? At the time there seemed to be little moral choice. The change was quick and unyielding so it was unlikely that faith could have cured me.
“Surely Father, by this logic, all illness could be overcome with faith and all who die by disease are simply weak individuals whose faith is not strong enough.”
“What you are is no disease!” He spat out the words. “The Devil can see those who are weak and evil and he hunts them down by means of his servants and when they are bitten they too are forever in his service. Disease is a test of the body by God, your condition is proof of a rotten soul, and Beelzebub loves rotten souls…” He stressed words like "weak” and “evil” and bulged his eyes in emphasis.
“If you believe me to be weak, why do you restrict me thus? Come closer and I will show you just how rotten I am!” No sooner had I finished my sentence than I felt the exacting sting of the silver whip in my back, the suddenness of which forced me to drop to my knees."
“Silence! You shall not address the Father Superior in that tone,” said a voice behind me in a language I understood. Refusing to let them see my distress I stood up and continued this outlandish conversation, “So what do you do with Lucifer’s so-called children?”
“I detect sarcasm in your voice. That will soon be eradicated, worry not. In answer to your question, what we do is make every effort to remove them from the world, peacefully or by force. Those that cannot be captured are killed on the spot or tracked further until they are caught. We have over 1,275 of you here and we believe there to be a significantly larger number of creatures jailed than there are free. The team that brought you here is one of the many Damnation Hunters that we employ all over Europe to trace and catch the Devil-spawn. We aim to have caught every last one of you by the second coming, after which we shall be handsomely rewarded by Christ himself!”
He stood in the middle of the room during his monologue and directed his gaze upwards as he said this before slowly closing his eyes altogether.
“And when do you think that will be happening?” I asked. At this point the priest shot me a look and though I expected another strike it didn’t come. He resented my insolence but was not unfamiliar with it.
“Soon enough, worry not. My research tells me that our work here is instrumental in bringing it forward so the more of you we capture the faster it will happen.” And with that retort he looked behind me to the two men who had brought me here. They approached from either side of me. A third stood at the entrance of the room guarding us all while several peripheral priests stood around. The men gripped my arms tightly and due to my state of weakness I could do little to fight them off. They untied my hands and proceeded to attach a silver cuff on each one. The silver burnt and irritated my skin and drained me of even more energy. The priest then walked to his fireplace where the tip of a marking iron nested in the embers. He pulled it out and the men gripped me harder still while he approached with the glowing orange end, which he casually embedded into my skin just behind my right shoulder. I let out an unwitting scream. The smell of burnt flesh and skin filled the room, my knees buckled.
“That’s to signify your new home.”
“And these? So I look pretty?” I asked righting myself in defiance and showing him my wrists. My shoulder throbbed in pain and the bracelets were so oppressive, but I did not want to appear defeated.
“As you have lived in relative isolation, you might not know that the majority of your kind are intolerant to silver. It burns and it hurts and diminishes your strength. You see, even the Lord’s second most noble metal abhors you!"
He spoke with venom and fanaticism again. This appeared to be the most dangerous subsect of priests I had ever encountered. They were indoctrinated, powerful and dangerous. The cuffs were tight and painful. They secured by way of an iron band which ran on the outside of the silver for added strength and they locked tightly. There were also loops on each one, which I suspected were going to be used to secure me to chains when necessary.
“Where are we? What kingdom is this? Under whose authority do you operate?”
“Under God’s authority you stupid, insolent creature!” He spat the words out before slapping me in the face. Regaining his composure and righting his habit he let out a deep sigh and went on, “the silver will sap your energy enough to allow you to walk freely within the compound and to do the tasks that are given to you without the need to be tied all the time. Do not entertain thoughts of escape either as they are futile. For the beginning of your stay you will be assigned a Keeper who will inform you of what your duties in the compound will be and you will take lessons in the common language and word of the Lord. We all have a purpose here, normally that is revealed by what tasks one is best at.”
Shortly after he finished his speech a woman arrived to take me away. She too was Afflicted and she seemed tired and drained. We walked through the nooks and passages and for the first time since arriving here I was relatively free. I did not have a guard nor was I chained to anything but the constant sting of the cuffs reminded me of my situation. The woman proceeded a few steps ahead of me.
“At night we get locked up in our cells,” she said simply and matter-of-factly. “It is when we are at our most alert and strong, so we remain contained." She was repeating a speech she had clearly made countless times before.
“How long have you been here?”
“One hundred and eighty years give or take, I’ve lost count.”
“How old are you?” I asked in disbelief.
“Three hundred and twenty two years old.”
“Do we ever die?”
“I don’t really know. I’ve seen no one die a natural death at least.”
“Have you thought of escape?”
“In the first century or so I did.”
“And did you do it?”
“I tried and failed a few times.”
“And then you simply gave up?”
“We might live a long time but you will find religious sects are highly ordered and disciplined. They have studied all aspects of our lives and know more about us than we do. They run a watertight operation here. They keep records about us from the first day we arrive here and check whether all the facts they take down are true.”
“You don’t also believe we’re demonic, do you?”
“I believe what they tell me to believe. It’s best that way, less pain.�
�
We reached my cell. She gestured that I get in and locked the gate behind me.
“Why don’t you have a Keeper?” I asked as she was walking away.
“I don’t need one. I don’t disobey and I don’t think disobedient thoughts. I am reformed and they trust me. My few privileges are not a danger to the compound. Besides I couldn’t even if I wanted to…” she broke off in the distance.
Wanted to what? Think thoughts or escape? I wondered but didn’t dare ask in case someone on a higher level heard me shout. The cells down here weren’t so heavily guarded but the upper levels were.
I sat on the ground leaning against the wall. I put my hand on my shoulder where the priest had marked me. The wound had scabbed up but because I had not been fed much, it had not healed fully yet. Running my fingers over it, it felt like a jumble of loops and lines that I couldn’t make out. I wondered what it meant.
The midnight bell shook Kati from her reading. She looked up to see it was pitch black outside and she had only been reading by the light of the candle that burned throughout the day in this dark room. She was stunned by all she had read which seemed so unreal. Theodora Laskari is the Countess! The suspicion had been simmering inside her all day but she had not wanted to admit it to herself. The story about the branding had confirmed it. It was so obvious and yet so unbelievable. Erzsébet Báthory was a mad woman who believed she was a magical creature from the past who lived on blood.
Exhausted, she left the books on the floor as they were and went to bed, her mind unable to process anything else.
Eight
That evening her sleep was shallow. Interrupted by dreams of monsters and blood drinkers, demons, priests and death. She woke drenched in sweat on more than one occasion and found it very hard to get back to sleep. Only around dawn did she settle and slept a little.
When she finally woke up the sun was fully up and she estimated it must have been mid-morning. Remembering what she had learned the day before and in an exhausted state of mind, she burst into tears. She regretted terribly having disobeyed the Countess because reading the journals had not enriched her but instead it had added a burden on her already weighed little shoulders. Lifting her face out of her drenched hands she decided she was going to go to her mother’s house and together they would run away. She couldn’t stay in this place any longer; the Countess was clearly out of her mind and she was cruel. Pulling the sheet off the bed she hastily wrapped up her only other dress, the two books she had with her, an apple and a piece of bread.
Looking out of the window to make sure no one was around, she walked by the well and scratched Mačka on his lower back just before the tail starts, at which point the cat proceeded to rub himself on her legs with affection. After stroking his chin she placed a piece of the bread on the ground for him and with a heavy heart left through the small door adjacent to the castle gate and made her way down the ramp as fast as she could.
Relieved to be reaching the forest she realized she was approaching the old man’s house but she couldn’t stop to talk. She stood at the mouth of his clearing to check on him and on seeing he was at his usual gardening spot she cut through his trees and headed for home. She hadn’t gone more than a few meters when she felt her leg snag on something and before she had time to examine it, a weight fell from above engulfing her entirely. Within seconds she realized she was trapped in a net and couldn’t get out of it. The more she struggled the more tangled she seemed to get. She began to panic.
Eventually she made out a large humped form coming towards her walking slowly with the help of a hideous walking stick and realized it was the old man. He stood there motionless not doing anything.
“What are you waiting for? Let me go!”
“Katalina is that you?”
“Yes it’s me, were you expecting someone else?”
“No need for that, child. Didn’t you see the warning sign I put up a few feet away from the trap?”
“Clearly not, otherwise I wouldn’t have walked right into it.”
“And I’m the one who’s blind.”
Katalina let out a belly laugh and before long he joined in. When they were done laughing, Katalina started to cry, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions of the last few hours.
“What’s the matter, child?” Asked the old man perplexed.
“I just want to get away from here as fast as possible; I need to get to my mother urgently.”
“Is your mother sick?”
“No, but I have to go get her.”
“Did the Countess dismiss you?”
“No, but I’m leaving anyway.”
“You’re leaving of your own accord?”
“Yes.”
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the trouble?”
“I can’t tell you, I just need to get away!” She was panicking again.
“Get away from what, what’s happened child?”
“The castle, the Countess, everything!”
“Have you perhaps discovered something about the Countess that you shouldn’t have?”
“How do you know?” She asked intrigued.
“I think before you run away, we better go inside and calm you down a little bit, make sure you are making the best decision.”
With a practiced motion he removed the net from above Kati more easily than she expected a blind person to be able to. Setting it on the ground, he rested his arm on her shoulders reassuringly and they went inside.
***
The kettle hung by a hook attached to an iron rod that spanned the length of the fireplace. The water was gurgling inside so with the help of a rag he removed it from the heat and carefully poured the boiling liquid inside two large handle-less ceramic cups. The smell of rosemary and sage filled the room and soothed Kati’s aching head.
“Let it cool a bit before you drink it or you’ll be peeling your lips off the rim. The wait also lets the herbs settle a bit.”
She didn’t appreciate the graphic description, but didn’t comment.
The old man uncovered a plate of freshly baked flat bread and pushed it in her direction. “Try some, I made it this morning.” He said picking an apple from the bowl and very tentatively beginning to peel it in an uninterrupted movement. The peel coiled and came off in one piece, settling on the weathered wooden table top. He quartered the apple and also put it in the dish but she didn’t touch either item.
With the help of a spoon he located the loose leaves from inside his tea and removed them. Topping the scolding liquid with splash of cold water from a pitcher he took a sip from his tea.
Kati did the same.
“Now tell Papa what the matter is.”
“Papa?”
“My name is Walter, but all the young servants round here call me Papa.”
She smiled, “Alright Papa.”
Putting her tea down, she hesitated for a moment.
“You can never repeat a word of what I tell you. Promise?”
“I promise,” he said with a serious face.
Kati proceeded to tell him all about her secret reading lessons since she had arrived at the castle, the Countess’s cruelty, and finally about binding the journals and reading them against orders. The old man sat silently.
“If she really is this person with this demonic power then I have to leave, I need to get my mother and get as far away from here as possible!”
“And if she isn’t?”
“Then she’s just a blood thirsty mad woman with an overactive imagination, and I still need to get away from here.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Yes I can, I’ll disappear, go to Austria or Moravia or deep into the countryside and never be heard of again.”
“Look around you child! Don’t you think other members of her staff have wanted to get away from her? Many have tried and failed. She is resourceful and vindictive and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but everything you read in those j
ournals is true."
“What? How do you know that? It’s insane!”
“This has been a long time coming. Who do you think gave me these?” He said pointing to his scarred eyes.
“She blinded you? Why?”
“As you might have gathered I was born in these woods, not too far from this hut. My family has served the Nádasdy clan for many generations and we know a lot about them. My father was the groundskeeper like his father before him and when he passed I took his place. I was quite young, a boy of eighteen, but I already knew all the ins and outs of the family business, and was not afraid to take over. In fact I was probably the youngest groundskeeper to ever take charge on his own. It’s quite the task to maintain the game every year, to keep the pests at a manageable number, to know which trees to fell etc. You need a man of experience and one who knows the area extremely well to do it or else the forest just takes over." He paused for a sip of tepid tea.
Bathory's Secret: When All The Time In The World Is Not Enough (Affliction Vampires Book 1) Page 9
