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Authors: Brett J. Talley

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BOOK: That Which Should Not Be
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“What?” Charles asked. 

“Nothing,” I replied.

I knew even as I felt them these were irrational thoughts. There could be no place more secure than here.  I knew I should feel safe in a place such as this, a holy place, a place I could lay my head down knowing no danger could come to me.  And yet, while my rational mind told me this was true, there was something else.  Something preternatural, something left over from the oldest age of human experience, which told me as long as I was within these walls, I would not be safe. 

I did not dwell on this thought long.  Charles turned to me and said, “Well old man, it is late, and I am tired.  As our options are limited, shall we turn in?”

“Yes,” I replied with a smile.  With that, our strange night was ended.  It would be only the first of many. 

 

*   *   *

 

The night passed without event.  The journey had drained me physically and mentally, and I was very tired.  Despite the rather cramped conditions, sleep came quickly.  I slept deeply and cannot say I remember my dreams, not really.  I awoke with only the barest glimpse of them, like a shadow that moves in the water.  That something is there is undoubted, but your eyes cannot see it.  I remember only flashes of color and of sound, and the figure of a woman.  But the more I sought to focus, the further away those images would drift in my mind. 

We awoke to the bright light of day.  I suppose that should not be surprising.  But the night before, I believed darkness would always cover that mountain, that the light of the sun could be nothing more than a distant memory on its peak.  As the gleam of morning streamed through our open window, I felt my spirits rise.

I had not been awake long before Charles also roused himself.  “Well, it would seem we’ve made it through one night intact.”

I heard a key slide into the door and a bolt turn.  The door was opened, but it was not Abbess Batory as I would have expected.  Instead, it was a younger girl with a kind face and dark hair.

“Breakfast is prepared, sirs,” she said shyly, never lifting her eyes to see where we lay.  “If you will, kindly join us downstairs.”  Then, as quickly as she had come, she was gone. 

“Well, she is quite the pretty thing,” Charles remarked.  He looked at me and no doubt was surprised at what he saw, for I am sure I was visibly dumbfounded at that moment.  It was the same girl I had seen twice before, the same girl who had been outside the gates, the same girl whose outline I had glimpsed as the door closed last night. 

“Are you alright, Daniel?” Charles asked with some concern. 

“Of course,” I almost whispered.  “We should go.”

In only the briefest of time we were clothed, and we made our way quickly down to the dining room below.  We needed no guide as the sounds of activity carried us along.  The castle was a brighter place in the day, and one could feel the energy pulsing through it as if it were a being come to life.

As we entered the dining room, it became evident to the both of us that, indeed, this was a convent.  The sisterhood was gathered around various tables, eating what could only be described as a sumptuous meal.  I immediately wondered from whence they received their provisions.  No doubt the citizens of Czernowitz were less superstitious than their compatriots across the mountain and did a brisk trade with the abbey.  I suspected there was also a garden somewhere nearby tended by the sisters.  It was even possible wild game was gathered to add meat to their diet. 

Anna and Vladimir were seated at a table alone.  The sisters had shunned them, whether out of some negative feeling or out of modesty and fear, I could not know.  Charles and I sat across from the pair.

“Good morning,” Vladimir said. 

“Good morning,” I responded.  “I trust you spent the night well?”

“If I have ever been more tired than I was last night, I do not remember it.”

Plates had been set out, and there were bowls of various breakfast foods on the table.  Charles and I took generous portions.  Apparently, he was as hungry as I.  For a long while we sat there, more or less in silence, eating our food.  But then one of the sisters I did not recognize approached. 

“Monsieur Vladimir,” she said.  “Abbess Batory would like for you to join her briefly.  She is curious to learn of your travels.”

“Of course,” Vladimir responded.  “Anna?” he said, apparently ensuring she would be fine without him.  She merely nodded.  He arose from his seat, leaving his empty plate behind, and made his way to the front table where Abbess Batory sat.  Charles glanced at me, slyly.  I knew what he was thinking.  He had made his affection for Anna clear, and this would be an opportunity for him to get to know her better, no longer under the stone-cold gaze of Vladimir.  As I glanced at the head table, though, I noticed, although he was engaged in conversation, Vladimir's eyes often found us.  And I knew to whatever extent Charles would have preferred to keep his affections secret, Vladimir was no fool. 

I knew Charles would prefer I leave him alone, but there really was nowhere for me to go.  As I pondered this quandary, I failed to notice the approach of the young woman who had so struck me only a night before.  When she sat down beside me, it came as a complete surprise. 

“Hello, sir,” she said. 

“Oh! I’m sorry,” I exclaimed.  I must have looked a fool, as she chuckled lightly when I spoke.   I was not Catholic, and I admit the young women who choose to give their lives to Christ were a mystery to me.  I had often noticed the modest dress that marked their sacrifice stole from them whatever natural gifts they might possess.  But in spite of the ungainly clothing she now wore, the softness of her face and the light in her eyes revealed the beauty beneath. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said through a glowing smile.

“Oh no, of course not,” I said quietly.  I have never been a man of great boldness, and now I felt as though this pretty little girl sitting beside me had sapped whatever courage, whatever confidence, I would normally hold. 

“It’s just,” she said, “I saw you last night, and I admit my curiosity has gotten the better of my manners.  But, I can leave if you would rather. . .”

“Oh no,” I interrupted, putting a hand on her wrist.  “Please stay, I am as curious as you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, blushing slightly from my lack of decorum.  There was, in her face, innocence, peace, joy.  I wondered where it came from.  I wondered where she came from.  How she had come to be here.  Perhaps she would tell me. 

“I judge,” she said, “by the sound of your voice, you are not of this country.” 

“No,” I said, “I am an American.”

“American!” she exclaimed.  “Why I’ve never met an American before.”

I had heard that often but still was not sure what response was expected.  So, I merely smiled.

“Will you tell me of America?” she asked, with a smile on her face filled with both the innocence and eagerness of youth. 

“Nothing would make me happier,” I replied.  “But first tell me your name.”

“Oh,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m Lily.”

“Lily,” I replied.  “That is a beautiful name.”

“Well thank you, sir,” she said, blushing again. 

“And how long have you been here, Lily?”

“Not long.  I am a novice, you see.  I only joined the order a little less than a month ago.”

“And what do you think of it?”

“Well,” she stuttered, her countenance falling ever so slightly.  “It is different than I expected.  I suppose I was not so prepared for the isolation, the being alone.  Oh . . . perhaps I speak too openly.”

“No, please continue,” I implored her.  “You have my confidence.”

She looked at me for a second, judging me, weighing me in her balance.  For the first time in a long time, someone found me worthy.

“I do not know what it is, sir.  But there is something in your face.  I trust you.”

“Good,” I said, nodding. 

“Well,” she continued, “I do love the sisterhood.  But like all things, I suppose, this one has been difficult in the beginning.  Perhaps once I know the other sisters better, things will improve.”

“I am sure they will,” I said. 

“Now,” she said, her face brightening, “tell me of America.”

I smiled.  So breakfast continued, longer perhaps than I would have expected.  Charles chatted freely with Anna beside me.  She had struck me immediately as a shy girl, one closed to outsiders.  She spoke little, and often it seemed as though she would prefer just to fade into the background.  But as I talked to Lily, I could not help but notice the giggles, the smiles, the little sighs of the girl beside me.  Vladimir couldn’t help but notice either.  Charles, oblivious, was apparently employing all his charms.  As for me, I told Lily all the stories I could muster, most of which were less than entrancing.  But to her hearing, they were all the highest adventures. 

Undoubtedly, Abbess Batory was also fascinated by her guest.  Though Vladimir probably would have preferred to return to the table and retake possession of Anna, Batory kept him there long after the food was finished.  Had I not known better, I would have said she was enjoying this spectacle. 

But breakfast could not last forever, and soon Vladimir had freed himself from Batory’s grasp and returned to our table.  Charles changed like a chameleon, immediately turning to me as if he had been involved in my conversation all along.  Lily was not impressed.  She looked from Charles to me and said, “Well, Daniel, I hope we can continue our conversation later.”  And then she was gone. 

 

 

Chapter

16

 

 

“Oh, Daniel.  Anna is a dream.”

The rest of the day had been a bit of a blur.  Dinner and supper had come and gone, with Batory stealing Vladimir away on both occasions, much to his dismay.  Charles had taken advantage of each opportunity.  Sadly, Lily had not returned, though her absence did more to whet my appetite for her charms than her presence ever could.  Now, Charles was leaned against the once-again locked door, purring over his newest love. 

“Yes, Charles, she is a dream.  But I cannot imagine Vladimir has many more stories to tell Batory, and even if he does, what exactly do you propose to do?  Steal two horses and ride off into the night with her?”

“Perhaps,” Charles said with a grin.  “But enough about me.  What about you, old boy?  I saw you talking to that young girl at breakfast.”

I couldn’t help but smile.  “Yes,” I said.  “Lily.”

“Lily,” Charles repeated.  “Well, Daniel, it would appear we are both sunk.  At least mine has yet to take her vows.”

 

*   *   *

 

The night passed, once again without disturbance.  But we were more restless, less apt to give in to slumber.  The fears of the last few days had dissipated, replaced with the eager love of youth.  We lay there, both trying to sleep, neither admitting sleep would not come. 
 
I suppose it was

nigh on midnight when we heard it.  It was, as most sounds are when they begin, unremarkable at first, but slowly built into something one would notice.  At first, I heard it but wasn’t listening.  It was a shuffling sound, the movement of cloth across stone.  The muffled sound of soft, quick feet. 

“Do you hear that?” I asked Charles.

“They’re moving,” he replied.  “Look!” he said, pointing.  Light was streaming in from underneath the locked door.  I watched for a moment, and nothing happened.  But then a shadow moved across the floor, then another and another, as if person after person was moving down the hallway. 

“Midnight Mass?” Charles asked.

“What else could it be?” I said.  But even in the asking of it, I somehow knew that was not the true explanation.  Charles didn’t respond, but he knew it, too.  I stepped quietly out of the bed and walked silently over to the door.  I was sure what would happen, but I tried the lock anyway.  Nothing.  The bolt was still fast.  I turned and looked at Charles.  I could see the disappointment in his face.  Even as I stood there, shadow after shadow continued to pass underneath. 

 

*   *   *

 

The next day began much as the last, except that morning Lily was waiting at the table when we arrived.

“Good morning, Daniel,” she said with a smile.  “Sir,” she continued, turning to Vladimir, “Abbess Batory has requested your presence, once again.”

Vladimir frowned.  “Of course,” he replied with the frustration of a man who could make no other response.  “Anna, gentlemen,” he said with a bow.  A glance at Charles revealed he was positively ecstatic.  I sat down across from Lily. 

“Did you sleep well last night, Daniel?”

It was an innocent question, but it cast my mind back to the night before, to the shadows that passed silently beneath my door. 

“Lily, last night, around midnight I would say, we noticed a, how to say it, a procession of some sort.  Down the hallway past our room.  As we were locked in, we were unable to see what the commotion might be.”

“That’s the Midnight Mass,” Lily said brightly.  “It is supposed to be beautiful.”

“Supposed to be?”

“Oh, I’ve never seen it,” Lily replied.  “Novices are not allowed.”

I gave her a puzzled look.  “That seems rather peculiar.”

Lily shrugged.  “It is simply a rule of the Order.  I never thought to question it.”

“No,” I replied, looking off to the head table where Vladimir still sat.  “I don’t suppose you would.” 

I thought for a second about what to say next, but my curiosity had the better of me.  I judged the girl had immediately taken to me, and I decided to prey upon that good will. 

“Lily,” I began, “I would very much like to explore this castle.  It is very beautiful, and part of my purpose in my travels is to investigate places such as this.”

“Yes, of course!”  Then, she paused.  Lily looked around, as if seeing if anyone was listening.  Sure that we could not be heard, but dropping her voice to a whisper nonetheless, she said, “There are many wonders to be found in the castle.  Abbess Batory keeps all of the doors locked.  She says that a wondering mind is the Devil’s workshop.  But I am curious,” she said with a mischievous smile.  “She keeps an extra key in her office.  I have taken it several times.”

“Could you get it for me?” I asked. 

Lily’s smile faded.  For the first time, I think she realized perhaps she had spoken too freely. 

“Well . . .” she began.  “I think I could get it, but I would want to go with you.  It is not that I don’t trust you.  But it would be most unfortunate if you were to lose it.”

“Of course,” I said with a smile.  I was determined to have that key for myself, but now was not the time to argue the point.

“Anyway,” Lily said, “I have chores to attend to.”  Then, looking around, she said, “Meet me after dinner.  I should have the key by then.”  With a smile, she was off. 

I was left alone.  Well, more or less alone.  Charles and Anna were now whispering down the table.  This was not a place I wished to be, so I stood up and wandered about the high vaulted expanse.  There was little to attract the eye.  I had never been in a place of God with less to recommend it.  Less architectural beauty, less in the way of art or sculpture. 

I supposed the fortress’s history had much to do with its starkness.  I leaned myself against a column and began to think.  I suddenly hoped we would not be here much longer.  I found it to be cold and unfriendly despite my growing affection for one of the young women who had sentenced herself to a life here.  I had begun to think on whether that was an unfair judgment when I felt a presence beside me.   I turned and was shocked to see it was Vladimir. 

“The Abbess,” he began, “seems never to tire of questions.”  He smiled at me, and then turned his head to look at Anna and Charles.  “Apparently, neither does your friend.  He appears to have taken an interest in my Anna.  Do you think,” he continued now turning his gaze back to me, “that I should be concerned?”

I stared dumbly back at him, unsure of what to say.  Vladimir chuckled. 

“She is a very beautiful girl, of that I am sure.  So I do not envy a man if he admires her.  As long as it is at a distance, of course.  I am an old man, and I realize Anna may find she has more in common with a younger set.  I do not begrudge her the friendship of others.  But you would be wise to ensure friendship is all that it remains.”

“Of course,” I said, with a slight bow.  We stood there like that in silence for a few minutes.  Then, Vladimir deigned to break that silence.

“I hope the priest returns soon with help from Czernowitz.  I do not wish to remain here any longer.”

“Vladimir,” I said, determined to ease his mind and possibly save Charles’ health, “you have nothing to fear from Charles.  His intentions are pure, I am sure.”

Vladimir laughed, but without humor.  “It is not Charles I fear.  It is this place.  Can’t you feel it?  The sisterhood may have taken it, but they do not own it, not yet.  There is still something unholy about it.  And two nights hence . . .” His voice trailed off.  He did not finish. 

“What?” I asked

He squinted at me with a queer look.  “Your people have forgotten the old ways,” he said.  “You would do well to remember them.”  I simply said nothing.  He frowned and continued, “We should not be here, my young friend.  And in two days, it will be May Eve.  Walpurgis Night.  We should not be on this mountain on such a night.  I have seen many things in my life, enough to not be superstitious, enough to know most can be explained.  But there are some things for which one would be wise to maintain a healthy respect.  This place is one of them.”

“What if he doesn’t come?”

“If the priest doesn’t come,” he said, “then we will wait it out the best we can.  And hope the blessing of the sisterhood will keep us safe.”

It was a dark assessment from a man who I felt held few sentimental thoughts.  I, for one, knew nothing of May Eve, of Walpurgis Night, nothing more than I had discovered in the most recent days of my travels.  But the more I learned, the less I wanted to know. 

Dinner came and Lily appeared, but she had no key.  She apologized profusely, but the Abbess had remained in her office all morning, and there had been no opportunity to obtain it.  The same story was told at supper.  Charles and I returned to our room to be locked inside.  At midnight the procession began again, as silently and stealthily as before.

 

*   *   *

 

The next morning at breakfast, Lily was nowhere to be seen.  My initial reaction was to worry; there was a danger she may have been caught in the midst of our crime.  If she confessed, then our conspiracy would be uncovered, and Abbess Batory might choose to banish us from the castle. 

Charles was similarly put-out; that morning Batory had not sent for Vladimir.  And so there he sat, hovering over poor Anna.  The timid girl, so boisterous and talkative the past few days, did not dare to speak now.  The mood was one of overall gloom, and the longer Lily’s absence continued, the gloomier it got.  But then I saw her, standing next to a column on the edge of the room, beckoning to me.  I excused myself from the table and met her. 

“I was beginning to think something happened,” I said. 

“Such as what?” she asked with a smile.

“Well, I thought you might have been caught.”

“Not quite,” she said, holding up a steel gray skeleton key.

“You got it!” I said, perhaps too loudly. 

“I got it,” she replied.  “Meet me in the outer chamber after breakfast.  I have some free time before dinner, and the others will be busy.  There is something I want to show you.”

“I will meet you,” I said as she stood there smiling brightly, the darkness lifting that had been hovering over me.  For the first time, the first time really that is, I wished we had met in a different place.

 

*   *   *

 

I waited as she had asked in the outer chamber just beyond the hall in which we ate.  I stood in the shadows as several groups of sisters moved about on their way to their sundry duties.  Finally, there was Abbess Batory walking confidently, with purpose, through the chamber to some unknown destination. 

I watched her as she went, but when she reached an outer door, I saw her stop.  For a moment, I thought she would turn and find my hiding spot.  I immediately began to concoct a dozen different excuses, sure in the knowledge she would see through them all.  But after only a moment’s pause, she continued through the door and was gone.  I stood in the hall alone for a few more minutes, but then Lily arrived. 

“Come!” she commanded in a whisper.  “We must hurry, and we must not be seen.”

She led me through an open hall to one of the many locked doors in the corridor.  Lily produced the key and unlocked it with no difficulty.  The open door revealed a long corridor.  I had little time to study it before I was hurried in by Lily who quietly closed and locked the door behind us. 

The hallway immediately fell dark, the only light provided by windows placed high upon the wall near the ceiling.  Lily handed me one of the lanterns she carried with her, opening the vents to allow light. The corridor was blacker, dirtier, older than the one we had just left.  I could tell immediately this was not an area of the castle that was often visited. 

“They had planned on opening this all up,” Lily said.  “To give the Order more space.  You are lucky there were rooms available when you arrived.  Normally, each sister would have her own cell, but here most share rooms.  Yours were being prepared for sisters when you arrived.  If you had come but a day later, they would not have been open.  Lucky for you, I guess.  I am actually lucky, as well.  I am one of the few sisters who has her own room.”

We walked down the length of the hallway.  There was a stairway leading down and curling back around the wall at its end.  As we descended, Lily continued, “As I was saying, they had planned to open all this up.  But then they found it.” 

The stairway continued to descend before dead-ending into yet another doorway.  But this one was different from the others.  The walls around its edges were rougher, as if the once smooth stone had been chiseled or beaten away.  The door itself was not the same as those we had already passed through.  I would have sworn those doors had been in place for hundreds of years, but this one was new and looked as if the wood had been cut and planed only a few months before.

“When they found this chamber,” she said as she slid the key into the lock, “it was entirely blocked in.  It was bricked up,” she continued, turning the key, “and beyond that were boulders, as if the roof had fallen in or someone had tried to forever fill the hallway beyond.  They had to use dynamite to blow through the wall.  The other sisters say it shook the castle so, they thought the whole roof might fall in!” she whispered with a mischievous smile.  Then she flung the door open. 

A black, gaping hole was before us.  It seemed to leer out at us, like the empty smile of a toothless skull.  I looked at Lily and she at me.

“Shall we?” she asked.  I simply nodded.  We entered a narrow, downward-sloping corridor.  Its walls were different, more ancient, less chiseled, more rough-hewn.  I was immediately interested in the method of its construction, of whether it predated the castle.  But then it opened up into a high chamber, and all my previous curiosities were forgotten. 

“Oh my sweet Lord!”

“Incredible, isn’t it?”

So many thoughts entered my mind at that moment, and I must concentrate if I am to relay them in any coherent way.  My first thought, after the shock of what I saw had passed, was the distinct and overwhelming certainty I shouldn’t be there.  Not then, not ever.  It was the sort of place no man should see.  No Christian man, at least.  A fearful place, a horrible place.  It then struck me how young Lily must be, for only a youth could see such a thing and not recoil instantly from the sight of it. 

It was a chamber, as I have said.  High vaulted and massive.  A great inverted bowl, seemingly carved out of the depths of the mountain.  At the far end sat a table.  No, not a table.  An altar.  That is the only word for it.  A single piece of stone.  Four feet high and six feet long, made out of a single block of marble, smooth at the top.  It was darker in some places than others, and though it may have just been a trick of the light, at that moment I could almost see the bloodstains as black and sinister as if the slaughter perpetrated upon that slab had happened only moments before. 

BOOK: That Which Should Not Be
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