Forever Midnight

by Kate Hill

  Strong jaws closed around her throat. I have failed. She felt the pain as its teeth broke her skin and her hot blood began to flow down her neck. Suddenly, the pressure at her throat lessened. She opened her eyes.

  The beast rose up before her. Pain flashed across its face. The long, coarse hair covering his body began to change. From the wolf she recognized, he became some half-beast, half-man creature from the land beyond the dead. Zolona looked down the length of its hairy body and stared with wonder and awe at the size of his swollen genitals.

  Better ta kill me quick than tear me in two with the hard lance between his legs. The thought flashed through her mind even as the tip of his shaft descended towards her womanly core. With one quick brutal thrust, the beast entered her, tearing her maidenhead and penetrating deep inside her body.

  “Nooooooo!” The white-hot, searing pain closed her throat, choking back further sound. Tears filled her eyes, blurring the image of the lust-crazed man-beast. Over and over, he thrust into her ravaged body.

  Somewhere along way, in the midst of all her pain, she felt her body responding to the attack. Her own body betrayed her, meeting his hard driving thrusts with her own. Zolona stood atop a high pinnacle reaching for the Morning Star. The star burst into a brilliant flare of light and she was falling, falling…darkness descended over her, covering her in a shroud of blissful sleep.

  Filip stood looking down at young woman lying in her virgin’s blood on the Rock of Sacrifice. Knowing it was necessary did nothing to ease the pain and burden of knowing he was responsible for the oozing stain of crimson between her thighs. It was no small consolation knowing she could have easily died.

  “Come quick.” An anxious voice called from the shadows of the approaching dawn. “There is still work ta do and little time left.”

  He gathered Zolona up in his arms and hurried after the old woman. She stood straighter. Gone were the haggard look and slumping shoulders. Her steps were sure and quick through the forest. With each moment of passing time, she gained more strength.

  Filip followed her to a hidden cave. Inside a fire burned within a circle of stones. Near the fire a black kettle sat, steam rising from a foul-smelling mixture of herbs and spices known only to the old witch. He placed his young burden on a bed of sweet-smelling heather, jasmine, and lilacs.

  Her long tresses spread across the bed like golden honey. The firm mounds of her breasts barely moved as she hovered near the realm of death. His first image of her as he changed back from the beast had been one of shock and revulsion written across her face. Now, she looked so peaceful and beautiful.

  The old witch brushed him aside and took a handful of the thick paste from the kettle. Spreading Zolona’s legs apart, she packed her raw and bleeding flesh. “This will stop the bleeding and bring healing. The curse has been lifted with the taking of her body, but ta find yer rightful place within the castle walls, ya must win her heart as well.”

  He watched her hair go from a dull, dingy gray to a bright copper, glowing like fire in the first rays of the sun streaming through the cave’s opening. “I have sought this day with longing since I laid my husband ta rest in the castle’s mausoleum. Promise me this one thing; bury me next ta my husband that I may rest in peace.” She hurried away, running through the woods over the path they had followed to the cave.

  An evil, hysterical laugh danced on the wind. “What hideous secret does yer evil heart carry ta thy tomb, ol’ witch?”

  Filip turned and knelt beside the sleeping Zolona. The essence of rose oil still clung to her body. Her body was young, tender, but every inch a woman at eighteen years. He grew hard looking at her and chastised himself for wanting her so soon. His memory, foggy from the transition, recalled little of the actual mating. He hoped hers would be as kind.

  Kneeling beside her, he lifted his hand to her face and his fingers skimmed lightly across her velvet-soft skin. “Sleep, my love. I shall return.”

  Filip crept through the forest to the small stone house he and those like him had used for generations. He dressed quickly and retraced his steps to the lake and the stone gazebo. There, lying on the Rock of Sacrifice, lay the body of Helen Garlanzo, beloved wife of the first patriarch and lord of Garlanzo Castle. She lay on what had been Zolona’s bloodstained gown, only now it was nothing more than a crumpled pile of old decayed cobwebs.

  Filip picked her up and carried her to the castle door. It opened immediately upon his knock. The family stood inside the door and he saw the relief wash over their faces at the sight of the fiery copper locks. He followed the present lord and master of the house out to the estate mausoleum. There, in the dark and dreary vault, a casket had been opened in preparation for receiving the body, four hundred years after the curse had first plagued the land.

  The Lord of the Manor looked down at the woman whose beauty had been restored in death. “My daughter is well?”

  “She is.” Filip closed the lid to the coffin. “Zolona is resting. I will bring her home soon. Do not be frightened for her.”

  “Did she suffer much?” He helped Filip secure the lid and shove the coffin back into its rightful place.

  “She is alive.” He turned away from the crypts and hurried to the door.

  “Ya will stay with her until she is well enough ta travel?”

  Filip paused, “Da.”

  “That is good. I will prepare food and clothes ta take with ya, and give ya my finest horse ta carry her home. Please, come inta the house for a glass of wine while all is made ready.”

  They walked in silence for several minutes. “Young man, may I ask yer name?”

  “For now, Filip will do. My surname for now is unimportant.” They entered the castle walls and the Lord of the Manor offered him a seat in the kitchen.

  The family hovered in the background while the servants rushed to do the bidding of their lord. He caught some of the hushed, behind the hand comments.

  “My, but he’s a handsome brute…”

  “I wonder who he is. I haven’t seen him in the village.”

  “…the beast.” Laughter followed. “Him? Don’t be daft.”

  Filip feigned a cough to hide his smile. May ya never learn the truth, dear lady.

  “Here is more wine, sir, for yer cough. Ya must have caught a cold in the damp early morning hours.”

  “Thank ya, miss.” He took the wine and swirled it in the goblet. The blood of the grape reminded him of his shameful deed at the gazebo. Filip drained the sweet liquid in one long swallow.

  He stood, stretched, and took the bag of food and clothes outside. “I shall return with yer daughter within the full moon.” Filip shook his hand, sprang to the back of the saddled horse, and rode off down the cobblestone path. The sun, well past its zenith, cast a long shadow across the way as he left the trodden path for the obscure cave.

  The bed was empty when he arrived at the cave. He ran down the path to the stream and stopped at the sight before him. Zolona stood in a small pool, water to her waist, a light melody lifted from her lips and blended with the soft babbling of water flowing over the rocks.

  She looked up and a moment of shock registered on her face only to be replaced by a smile. “Ya came.”

  “Ya know who I am.”

  “Not yer name, but I’ve seen ya many times…in my dreams.” She left the pool. Water droplets on her skin glistened like rare jewels in the sun.

  “Are ya a witch?” he asked with some growing fear.

  “A witch,” her melodious laughter rang out through the trees. “Ya mean like the old crone at the castle? Nu, I am the seventh daughter of the seventh generation. Many a lonely night, ya have come ta me upon my bed and whispered in my ear.”

  He smiled. “And what were these whispered words?”

  “That ya would be my shadow-time lover, but first, I must set ya free.”

  Filip looked into her eyes for some signs of loathing. Instead of hate, he found compassion and understanding. Did he dare ask the question that burn
ed within his heart? She stood within his easy reach in all her natural naked glory. Dripping wet like a siren fresh from the sea, her beauty drew his hand up to softly touch her face.

  “My lovely Zolona, dare I ask what of thy response?”

  The brightness of the morning star radiated from her face. “The same now as then, as will be tomorrow. Come, my dearest, my shadow-time lover, and lie between my breasts.”

  Filip drew her within his arms and sealed the words of hope and promise with a kiss. He held her as they watched the sun slowly sink behind the towering mountains and fill the skies with gold and purple hues, bathing them in the last fleeting rays of light.

  Zolona began trembling in his arms, sweat dripped from her brow like blood. He recognized the horror in her eyes. It had been his constant companion until only this very morning. There was nothing he could do but step back away from her.

  She fell to the ground. Her screams of pain cut through him like a two-edged sword, they pierced his heart. “I am sorry, Zolona. I wish ta the gods I had known. Better ta have slain ya than this.”

  Anger flowed through his veins like the mighty Danube at the deceitfulness of the witch. Filip remembered her evil laugh. She had indeed taken a vile secret to her grave.

  Her creamy white skin began to change, long dark gray hair appeared from every pore, and her terrified screams turned into those of a tortured animal as her muscles ripped and tendons tore. The bones of her body shifted in size and shape, disfiguring her into a beast of Hades until she appeared, as he had been himself, the cursed of the land and terror of the night, the Werewolf of Garlanzo Castle.

  Filip knew only too well the nightmare. Human by day, wolf by night and hiding for fear that he would be found out, while praying he would. With his nights ruled by hate, he ran; killing whatever crossed his path, be it man or beast. For years, he had been hunted ruthlessly through the mountains and valleys of Transylvania.

  Only the old witch had known who and what he was. In her deceit, she spoke only half-truths. The curse had indeed been lifted from him, only to enter into the body of Zolona.

  She crouched in wariness, her long fangs bared in a snarl as she sniffed the air.

  “I’m sorry, Zolona.” He knew any movement could very well be his last. Filip slowly sat on the ground. “I know ya can understand me. Ya have every right ta hate me.”

  The wolf, twice, almost three times the size of a normal animal, took a cautious step toward him.

  “Ya were so brave, facing me in the gazebo. I despise myself for this evil curse upon ya. Let me be yer first victim. Revenge yer thirst for the ol’ witch upon my body and put ta rest the agony I feel for the pain I have caused ya.”

  He bowed his head in shame, tears flooding his eyes, as he waited. Filip felt the hot breath of the beast across his face. Slowly, resigned to his fate, he raised his head and looked into her eyes. Her tongue licked the tears from his face. He had never known in all the years that it was possible for the beast to cry, but her eyes misted with compassion. She rubbed her head against his face and Filip placed his arms around her broad muscular shoulders and wept.

  “Would that I had died, than bring this curse upon ya and yer family. How can ya not hate me?”

  She moved back away from him. “Da, go. Avoid those who would kill ya. I will build a fire and stay throughout the night. When the shadow-time of morning stretches across the land, return ta me, my lovely Zolona.”

  She dried his tearstained cheeks with her rough tongue, turned, and ran off into the encroaching darkness. The moon rose over the crest of the mountains. Filip stood, gathered wood and tinder for the fire, and turned towards the witch’s cave.

  Dropping the load of wood beside the fire ring, he glared at the witch’s iron pot. Blackened by years of her foul, evil use, the Garlanzo crest appeared to be but a faded outline. He picked it up, “Damn ya!” With all the force of his pent-up anger, he hurled it against the stone wall of the cave. “If ya had not died, I would take great pleasure in killing ya myself.”

  On a ledge, he found a piece of flint, an old rusted striker, and in a wooden box, a small pile of hemp fluff the old crone used for starting fires. Within a few minutes, a small thread of white smoke drifted up. Gently blowing on the smoldering hemp, a tongue of flame leapt magically from his hand.

  Filip placed the burning tinder within the fire ring and slowly added dry slivers of bark and grass. As the flames grew, he added still larger pieces of wood, thankful for the heat against the encroaching chill of the mountain night air.

  In all the years, this was his first night without food or the possibility of having any. Better to be hungry than feast upon the flesh of some unsuspecting stranger passing through. Turning his head, Filip gazed out of the cave’s opening and watched as the light of the rising moon gave the area an eerie glow.

  For an hour, he fed fuel to the greedy flames until a bed of coals winked at him in the darkness. His eyes turned suddenly to the cloth sack he had brought from the castle. Zolona will have nu need of the food her father provided. Filip ate greedily of the meat and bread and drank from the firkin of wine.

  There was not a man nor animal alive able to stand against the wolfen beast, nor escape the death grip of its jaws. He had not prayed in years, not since the old woman had made him realize the futility, but he prostrated himself before the opening of the cave.

  “Oh, Lord of the moon, guardian of the night, have mercy on Zolona and prevent her from taking human life. Spare her from sharing my guilt from feasting on mortal flesh.”

  Picking up the small iron kettle, Filip took the knife the witch had used, sliced his skin, and let his blood drop as an offering into the cold blackened pot. Instantly, it sizzled, sending a choking, biting tendril of vapor into the air. The cave spun as he staggered to his feet and groped for support. His feet tangled with the bed and with his arms outstretched he fell onto the mat of flowers. The faint perfume of roses drifted through his mind as darkness closed about him.

  Chapter Two

  Leaping over boulders, fallen trees, and across swollen streams, he ran beside the she-wolf through the night. At the crest of a small knoll, he paused… There below him on a small plain of grass a flock of sheep lay sleeping, unaware of death stalking the night. An unwise herder lay sleeping beside a fire. Zolona burst from her hiding place, charging into the night, scattering the sheep, and making straight for the one who slept unaware. Helplessly, he watched the scene unfold, his scream of warning, frozen in his throat.

  The mouthwatering aroma of cooking meat and the sizzling of fat on the fire brought him up from the black nightmare of his sleep. Zolona knelt before flames, turning a leg of lamb on a crude spit. Her hair hung damp on her bare shoulders and he watched the muscles moving across her back. Lily-white skin contrasted with the dark gray of the cave walls and his eyes lowered to the smooth round cheeks of her ass.

  “Ya came back.” The rough material of his pants grated across the head of his cock as it hardened. His hunger for her shoved aside his need for the food she fixed.

  “Where else could I go?” She shifted on the balls of her feet and turned towards him. “Ya of all people should understand.”

  “What of the sheepherder who watched his flock?” He realized it had been a dream, but it had been so real.

  “How did ya know the herder was there?” Her eyes took on a confused, searching glare. “He ran off inta the night, screaming that the gates of Hades had opened and for the gods ta save him.”

  Relief flooded over him. He exhaled a sigh, lay back upon the bed, and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving to the gods for answered prayer.

  “Ya were afraid the beast would kill him.”

  He turned his head to answer but her beauty, as she stood and walked toward the bed, stilled his voice. Her smile promised the heat of passion. The fullness of her young breasts drew his eyes as they rose and fell with each breath. Slowly they lowered to her trim waist and the small field of darker curls at the me
eting of her thighs.

  “I should have, for he was a thief.” She sat on the bed beside him. “For years, the herds of my father have been raided. We thought it was the work of the beast, for there was always blood upon the ground. I know now, ya were not the evil stalking my family. It is the work of a two-legged beast, an acquaintance who sits at our table, while his hirelings do his treacherous bidding.”

  “I am grateful ta the gods ya spared the life, even though he deserved less.” Filip reached out and placed his fingers lightly on her leg.

  “I will not be so kind ta Lord Gravely next time we shall meet.” She returned his gesture by placing her hand on his leg. Her fingers inched upward leaving a trail of fire, towards his loins.

  Zolona fixed her eyes on his thickening cock. Her breathing increased and her tongue traced the fullness of her lips.

  “For years, the pompous fool has vied for a union of our families. He begged Papa not ta waste my childbearing years on an old woman’s senile ranting, but that I should marry his anemic and pathetic son.”

  She grasped his cock and squeezed. “I have made my choice.” She lowered her lips to his. “It is better ta be with my shadow-time lover and accept my fate, than be shackled in a loveless marriage ta a man I despise.”

  Her lips were tender, full, and sought his with a building desire. Zolona grew bolder, parting her lips, and teasing him with her tongue. Fingers pulled at his rough clothes, deftly undoing the buttons of his pants. “I am nu longer a virgin,” she spoke against his lips, “so do not play silly, coy games. The hardness of yer shaft excites me and fills me with desire.”

  She swung her leg across his waist, placed his cock inside the lips of her pussy, and drove it deep inside her wet and eager flesh. Zolona gasped and bit back a cry of pain. Her eyes grew large, questioning. “This is not supposed ta hurt. My sisters told me after the first time there would be nu more pain.”