Page 86

The Journal of Lady Glynis Wright

The Castle

Same night-

Can I confess to what has happened? Yes, I must. I must. I must write down all that is happening to me. I must retain my humanity despite this dreadful place. Let this be my confession, for I have sinned, and I fear there is no absolution.

Soon after my defilement, Vlad left me to change from my tattered dress into something more appropriate. I had been ordered to join my sisters in waiting for his summons. Instead, I crawled up onto the ledge of one of the windows overlooking the courtyard and perched there to watch the events unfold below.

Vlad greeted the guests warmly, invited them in, and entertained them in the great hall. Cneajna dressed in a beautiful gown, obviously the proud possession of one of Vlad’s former victims, and had accompanied Vlad as his wife. Elina and Ariana had been beside themselves, their excitement ghoulishly joyful. They had left to wander the shadows soon after the guests had settled in to their last supper.

I remained behind, perched in the window, afraid if I bore witness to the slaughter, the hunger would overcome me. I watched as the gypsy men led the horses to the stables and the gypsy women dragged the heavy traveling cases of Vlad’s victims into the castle. I knew the trunks were not for Vlad’s guests, but for the Brides to pick over once the guests were dead and gone.

So I waited.

Strangely, I had been dangerously close to accepting this world and all it offered. I have to admit I enjoyed feasting on the gypsy girl. I could feel the sheer glory of the power of the blood within me. I had reveled in it.

It was only when Vlad brought us the child that I realized I could go no further into this darkness. It was that night I decided that I would fight the hunger until the madness descended and forced Vlad to destroy me. I did not know if my soul would find peace in heaven or torment in hell, but I did not care. I had to escape. I had promised my Mother, and death, though not quite what she had planned for me, was an escape.

All these thoughts flitted through my mind as I curled up in the window and stared over the mountains. I could feel the hunger gnawing at my bones, ripping at my mind, demanding to be quenched. The weakness in my body was almost pleasurable. It spoke of defeat of the vampire within me.

Then…

A horrendous scream rent the night air.

I gasped, shivered, and dug my fingers into my palms.

The slaughter had begun.

Then…

Another scream.

Vlad’s roar of pleasure.

The sly laughter of my vampire sisters.

Terrified shrieks.

I clawed at my hair with my fingers: my stomach quivering, clenching, and demanding. I flung myself from the window onto the floor.

“No! No! I cannot listen!”

I lay in a heap shaking violently. The hunger descended upon me with all its fury, ripping at me, biting at me, demanding, needing. I curled into a tight little ball, my hair covering my face in long, red curls. Hands over my ears, I struggled not to hear the death cries echoing through the halls of the castle. The hunger built up within me, spreading into my limbs, becoming a fire of dark desire licking at me. The all-consuming desire to feed was upon me.

“No…no…” I whispered into my hair and pounded the floor with one fist. “No!”

The poor travelers at Vlad’s mercy were just like my family. Innocent, stupid mortals who had no earthly reason to believe they would be feasted on by vampires if they stopped for the night at an old castle. I wept for them, for I understood their naivete, and I mourned their deaths. But I would not feed! I would not feed on the innocent!

But strange, intoxicating music was wafting through the room, foreign and exotic, pulling on me as much as the hunger did. I had never heard such music before. It was seductive, yet harsh to my ears.

Crying out, I fought the hunger even as I felt my body seizing as it responded to the bizarre combination of the music and my blood lust.

Softly murmuring voices floated about me as the sweet smell of blood filled my nostrils. Struggling against the intoxicating lure of the feast below, I writhed on the floor. I moaned as the fire in my limbs consumed me. As though I had no will over my own body, I rose slowly to my knees. Leaning forward, pressing my forehead against the cold stones of the floor, I tried to block out the exotic music, the sweet, coppery tangy fragrance of blood, and the uncontrollable hunger assailing my senses.

“Please, I cannot. I cannot, please…” I murmured.

The hunger burned through my body. I could feel my fangs, long and sharp, against my lips, and I yearned to feel them slipping into the soft, smooth flesh of a mortal.