Page 25 of Stolen By the Demon

“Sir Roger, this is Her Grace, the Duchess of Bathory,” Jonathan introduced her with glee in his eyes.

“My apologies, but I still don't…” Sir Roger stared at her; besides her obvious beauty, there was a cruel coldness around the lady, one that matched his own.

“Her Grace arrived just in time to assist with the search for my ungrateful daughter,” Sir Jonathan explained. Elizabeth Bathory waved her hand. “Nu conteaza, it just so happened that I was in the neighborhood.” She threw a brilliant smile at Jonathan.

“I fail to see how you assisted Sir Jonathan in his search.” Sir Roger raised an eyebrow, challenging the Duchess.

“I dabble a bit in the dark arts,” she admitted, feigning humbleness.

“A bit?” Jonathan exclaimed. “The lady is formidable; she knew exactly where to find that ungrateful bitch, and led you straight to her.”

“That’s how you knew where she was,” Sir Roger exclaimed delightedly.

Elizabeth smiled like a cat at the compliment. “It was nothing. Not compared to what I can give you.”

“I can’t wait to find out what that is,” Sir Roger exclaimed while his gloomy expression changed into something more anticipatory.

“Well, let me introduce you to my pet.” Elizabeth Bathory waved a long-fingered hand in the air, causing several bracelets to jingle, creating a bell-like sound.

Four burly men appeared, pulling and pushing on a fifth, keeping him chained in the center. Whoever it was appeared resigned to their fate at first glance. His glistening eyes, however, betrayed the impression he tried so hard to portray. He stared at the Duchess with utter hatred and a promise of a painful, slow death. Whatever kind of creature this man was I was suddenly sure he would be the death of her; it was a promise edged into his eyes.

“I fail to understand how a prisoner…” Sir Roger stopped as Elizabeth Bathory walked over to the men.

“Show them, my pet,” she purred as she used a silver needle to poke into his arm.

Smoke rose, and he hissed as his skin burned, exposing long fangs.

“A vampire?” Sir Roger asked, astounded.

Jonathan laughed gleefully. “He'll turn her into one,” he promised, “and us as well. In four hundred and thirty years, we’ll be ready once again to please the King of the Underworld and gain his everlasting favor.”

Sir Roger rubbed his chin. “Well done, my lord. Well done.”

I whimpered, but nobody paid any attention.

“How will we keep Lady Blanche from escaping again for over four hundred years?” Sir Roger inquired, throwing me a worried glance.

Elizabeth’s voice sounded like a purr, “The lady will enter a long sleep. A very long sleep.”

I couldn't take it any longer. As futile as it was, I sidestepped two guards and made a run for the door. But before I was even halfway across the hall, Sir Roger yanked me back by my hair. He spun me around to face Jonathan, who backhanded me, splitting my lip. ’Foolish girl,’ he snarled.

The blood trickling down my chin made the vampire snarl and rattle his chains. The guards were having a hard time keeping him in place.

”I haven’t fed my pet in a while,“ Elizabeth explained, staring at the vampire with hungry eyes as if she wanted to devour him.

Sir Roger grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the middle of the dungeon. A curled rope lay on the floor, which he attached to my feet, binding my hands with another. He gave one of the other guards a signal, and suddenly, I was flipped off my feet as the rope around my ankles was pulled up. Soon, I hung upside down like a bat from the ceiling. My long red hair brushed against the filthy straw on the ground, wetted by my tears. I didn’t feel any gratitude towards Sir Roger, but at least he had bound my skirt to my ankles when he tied me, so my skirt stayed in place instead of falling down to my ears, exposing… well, pretty much everything.

With a satisfied grin, Lady Bathory led her chained vampire toward me. I tried in vain to get away but only managed to swing myself in a circle until bile rose in my throat. My sobs turned into moans of revulsion.

“My pet is hungry,” the duchess purred, petting the vampire’s head.

The vampire turned and hissed at her, only to be hit by a guard with a silver stick. He cried out in pain, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

My mind threatened to shut down. This can’t be happening, I thought. Nonono. I kept thrashing like a caterpillar in its cocoon to no avail as strong hands grabbed and held me still. I was lifted higher until my neck was within reach of the vampire's fangs, and Sir Roger guided me toward the bloodsucker's mouth.

A sharp pain in my neck brought tears to my eyes as he latched on, and then the sound of him sucking and Elizabeth's laughter filled the domed room. I prayed like I’d never prayed before, but nobody came. Devon was dead, and dying was taken away from me.

When the vampire finished, hot lava seemed to move through my veins, burning everything in its path until I lost consciousness.

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