Bathory's Secret: When All The Time In The World Is Not Enough (Affliction Vampires Book 1) (38 page)

Rushing into the front room she called out, “Mama, Mama!”

She felt the immeasurable relief that the darkness offered. Morning sun always seemed to burn more, like it was filled with optimism for the day ahead. The house was empty but she could see the back door was ajar, and peering out she saw her mother hanging clothes in the garden. Bracing herself for the sun once more, she ran outside and towards the comfort of her mother who was thankfully in the shade of a tree.

“Mama, I’ve come back!” Kati called out as she ran towards her with her arms outstretched.

As soon as she saw her, her mother’s face lit up with an adoring smile as she opened her arms to greet her daughter.

Katalina ran right into her mother’s arms. It had been so long since she’d been held lovingly.

“Let me look at you! I’ve missed you so much,” said her mother as she pushed her back to see her. As her glance settled on her daughter’s face her expression immediately changed from one of love to one of fear, followed by disgust, and her arms fell to her side.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” Asked Kati, puzzled.

“Who are you?”

“Mama I’m Katalina, your daughter!”

“You are not my daughter,” she said simply. Her brows had met in the middle of her forehead forming a tight line of anger and concern. Katalina remembered that look from the times she’d gotten into trouble, but she didn’t understand it now. “I don’t know who or what you are, but you are no daughter of mine! My daughter’s face was sweet and innocent yet yours is demonic and… otherly. You make a good resemblance but you are not she.”

“Mother…” Katalina was lost for words; she felt the tears fill her eyes and her stomach turn. “Mama something’s happened, but it’s me.”

Her mother simply shook her head and put her arms back up as Katalina went to embrace her once more. She looked angry but also genuinely afraid.

“You resemble my Katalina but you could never imitate the color of her eyes. You cannot fool me! Leave this place, beast, you are not welcome here.” She said, before swiftly making the sign of the cross three times, pushing past Kati and locking herself into the house.

A feeling of total shock and disbelief enveloped Kati and suddenly she felt the light at its full strength; her stomach turned and she felt sick. She scarpered off into the woods for a dark place to hide. Her own mother hadn’t recognized her; her own mother had rejected and turned her away. If this was a blessing it was a curse as well. She hadn’t changed
that
much surely. Her eyes had taken the nebulous quality that all Afflicted eyes acquired once they changed, and her teeth, especially her canines, had become more pronounced but she could still see old Kati, healthy Kati, in there. Why couldn’t her mother? She remembered reading the Countess’s journal and the part where her own family had rejected her after she’d changed. It seemed as if an Afflicted person’s old life could never be reconciled with the new.

For the first time in her life Kati felt well and truly alone. She had escaped her “mentor” and she had been rejected by her own mother. With the old man dead she had no one and nowhere to turn to. She curled up into a ball in the small alcove she had found, covered herself with surrounding foliage and wailed in anguish until she went to sleep, trying to ignore the terror that was gripping her core.

At nightfall she woke up and remembered her situation. She sat idly on the ground completely at a loss. She started walking and soon found herself at the old man’s house; the door was open and on walking in she realized it was just as they had left it. The old man was sprawled dead on the floor with his mauled throat exposed with flies as his only company. Even in death and with no eyes she could still see the terror in his face and she cursed the Countess for what she’d done to him.

Finding a shovel, she went out into his yard and began digging a hole under his favorite apple tree. The apples this tree made were small and sweet and he always had a bowlful on his table when they were in season. She remembered how he used to skillfully peel them in one continuous motion taking off the peel in one thin ribbon which he used to hang up to dry and later throw in the fire for fragrance. She wondered how long it took him to find and collect them, especially because they were always perfectly ripe. She didn’t care for them but he never failed to tell her how delicious they were.

She knelt by his body and tried to pick it up, but he was heavy and she was hungry and exhausted. She was struck by its stiffness. Most of the corpses she had disposed of for the Countess were almost always fresh so rigor mortis was rarely an issue. She dragged it wearily into the yard and rolled him in face down. She couldn’t face turning him over so this would have to do. She stood there looking at him for a good while, lamenting the fact that the only person who had accepted her in her new form was dead, though somewhere inside she blamed him for what she’d become. He’d been the one who told her to stay when her instinct was to escape. If she’d run away when she’d first read the journals that told all about Theodora Laskari’s transformation into the formidable Countess she might still be normal.

Most likely he’d been right though; the Countess would’ve gone through hell and high water to find, return and punish her. She’d seen first-hand what she did to people who angered her. When the student Margareta had tried to escape, she’d found her in a matter of minutes. Katalina was almost killed for reading the journals and for hiding her gift so she didn’t even want to think of what would have happened if she’d been caught running away with her mother. The tightness in her gut returned.

When she filled the grave in, she put a singular apple on top of the mound of earth and clumsily carved the name “Papa” on the tree and the date underneath it. She sat on the mound and started to cry desperately. She cried once more for her mother and for the old man, but mostly she cried for herself. If the Palatine’s men had found her at that moment she would have felt relief.

Returning to the hut, she put the shovel back in its shed and got down on the ground and proceeded to scrub the blood from the wooden boards, but to her dismay it wouldn’t wash off. The stain would serve as a permanent reminder of what had transpired in this room. She replaced the furniture that had been knocked about during the struggle and pulled the table over the stain. She returned his chair by the fireplace where he kept it and proceeded to start the fire again. It was the first time since she’d known him that the fire was out. The poker he had used to defend her against the Countess lay in the middle of the room so she put it back in its holder.

She walked towards the back door again, realizing she could see a strange object behind the open door. Closing it she saw that it was in fact an aged mirror and in its distorted tinted reflection she saw herself for the first time since she’d escaped. Her auburn hair was speckled with leaves and dirt and the formerly white chemise hung loosely over her skinny form. She looked tired and gaunt and disheveled and there was blood spatter across her face and under her nose. She gazed down and saw that her bare feet were muddy, as was the rim of her shirtdress. Her fingernails were broken and torn from trying to escape as well as blackened from digging the grave. The enormity of what she’d gone through struck her and tears filled her eyes again and began cascading down her face before she could blink. She screamed in anguish and frantically started patting the dirt from her hair. She went outside to the well and dipped her hands in the bucket, vigorously scrubbing them clean and rinsing her face. After she had calmed, she decided to warm some and take a proper bath.

When she was done she put on some of the old man’s clean but oversized clothing and crawled into his bed. She laid her head on his pillow and smelled him clearly. He had a scent of the woods about him: pine resins mixed with rosemary and apples with honey, which she found comforting. She buried herself deep under the covers and slept as well as she could manage. She was safe here; no one ever bothered with the ailing, blind groundsman. She doubted they would even notice he was dead.

She woke up at dusk, as was her habit, a little startled at first until she remembered what had happened and where she was. She sat up on the bed and wondered what to do next. She knew her only options were to either run away or return to the castle and find out what they had discovered about the Countess and about her. She wanted to get to the journals before they fell into the wrong hands.

Read the rest
here.

Author’s Note

Erzsébet Báthory is one of the most widely discussed and studied persons in history and is surrounded by mystery, inaccuracy, myth and speculation. When I started this project I was somewhat apprehensive about tackling this great and often overused personality but her lure was too strong to ignore.

Under more mundane investigation Báthory was “simply” a Hungarian noble woman trying to play the hand life that had dealt her. Living in a very treacherous and ever-changing landscape of war and religious upheaval, she worked hard to run her family properties and make enough money to stay afloat. Despite my more flamboyant descriptions in the book, the truth is that Báthory often struggled with cash flow despite her vast landownership, especially after her husband Ferenc Nádasdy died and the proceeds from his wars dried up.

The 16
th
and 17
th
centuries were a tumultuous time in central Europe and Hungary in particular. Besides attacks from the Turks on account of their expansive policy during this time, the Countess also faced attacks from Hajduks (outlaws akin to highway men) as well as the Imperial forces sent to protect her lands. The Imperial armies would often loot and pillage the areas they were meant to be protecting thus depleting the Countess’s already scant resources. In terms of religion, this was also a time of upheaval as Protestantism was on the rise and many States were trying to break away from the hold of the Catholic Church. Báthory's indictment was probably a way of controlling the Calvinist and outspoken Countess who, though loyal to the Crown, did not shy away from voicing her discontent when she felt like it.

The money owed to her by the Crown, her enticing properties, as well as her unsavory religion were more than enough reason to want to do away with her and seize her land, especially in a time when a single woman was a relatively easy target, noble or otherwise. However, even if her demise was simply a conspiracy on the part of the Crown it seems a particularly elaborate one considering that at the time disgracing someone and appropriating their wealth was a common occurrence. By the time of her condemnation a total of over 300 witnesses had come forward and spoken against her including some from Vienna where she shared a house with another member of the nobility. Apparently, neighboring monks were upset to hear blood curdling screams coming out of her property.

It is more than likely that at the time of the attacks Erzsébet Báthory suffered a nervous breakdown which brought about her abhorrently criminal behavior. Whether she murdered 200 or 600 girls is unknown but I am in no doubt that she had a serious sadistic streak.

As for her accomplices, besides the ones I mention in the book such as Ilona Jó, Anna Darvolya (or Darvulia) and the boy Ficzkó, there were some others which I chose not to involve to avoid confusion. Katalin was also coincidentally the name of one of Báthory’s daughters and I thought it nice to give this name to my (fictional) Katalina who I see as her child in Affliction.

In closing I hope you will permit me the odd purposeful anachronism such as the precise time keeping by way of the chapel bells, the use of clotheslines or the fact that I neglected to mention the existence of the Manor House in Csejthe to name a couple. A certain artistic license is necessary in works of Historical Vampire Fiction and though I tried to be as historically accurate as I could, the story always had to come first.

I sincerely hope that you enjoyed this book and were enchanted by my world of Affliction.

About the Author

Thank your for purchasing and reading my book. If you liked it, I would appreciate it very much if you would take the time to write a glowing review on Amazon.

If you would like more information about me or to get in touch please visit
www.bloodygoodfiction.com

For updates about future book releases and stories join my mailing list
here.

You can find the second book in the Affliction Series
here,
and you read the first chapter on the next page.

Acknowledgments

My thanks go to my family and in particular my loving sister Marina Doritis for her enthusiasm for this project.

To my friends and beta readers and especially to my beta reader and friend Marinka Krel for her unending support and encouragement.

Special thanks go to my editors
Stephen Parolini
for making the book sparkle and
Eve Merrier
for making sure that no character was left sitting when they

should have been standing.

Rights

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form (including any digital form) other than this in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.