2018 - The Bathory Files

by Lora Edwards

  Soon.

  The countess would be back, as Armand had warned, and she was angry. She knew Victoria was no longer her “frightened little mouse”, as she had called her. She would come and she would bring a fight. A feral smile slipped across Victoria’s lips, effectively frightening away the count as he felt the danger in her. The countess would come, and she would be ready. She would fight and she would win, and then she would be free.

  Chapter 39

  Victoria groaned as she looked up into the fierce grin Ovidia had plastered on her face. “Great job, vampire. You almost bested me that time…almost.”

  Ovidia held her hand out and Victoria grasped it, standing up. Every muscle in her body ached as the beating she had taken had happened so many times even her superior healing abilities couldn’t keep up.

  “You asked me not to hold back,” Ovidia reminded her, a chuckle in her voice.

  “What was I thinking? It hurts to even breathe.”

  Ovidia looked at the ceiling, tapping her finger on her lips in mock contemplation. “I would say you were thinking you pissed off a centuries-old witch turned vampire who is also batshit crazy and wanted to be prepared for what she is going to throw at you the next time she attacks.”

  Victoria let out a surprised laugh. It was an accurate assessment of the situation.

  “Got it in one, Vid. Thank you again for coming here and helping me train. The countess has gone off the grid, I believe to Transylvania. She has her sanctuary cloaked so thoroughly no one has been able find it. Victor and Armand have had the best witches and magical beings in the institute in and out of here for days trying to find it with no luck.”

  “We have some talented people, but a powerful witch turned vampire is a rare talent. It is believed that being turned enhanced her natural abilities to those second only to that of a god.”

  Victoria nodded. “I have seen some of the things she has done when angry, and I would say that is accurate. She has caused major weather events with her anger. I do not know that I have ever seen her as angry as she was when she left the ballroom. I do not know in all of her centuries if anyone has ever injured her. She is a vain woman, and that mark will not be forgiven.”

  Ovidia nodded. “We will have to make sure you are ready when she comes, because I believe you are right. She will come at you with the full force of her powers. You have insulted her vanity, and in her mind, you betrayed her.”

  “Betrayed her?”

  Ovidia frowned. “Don’t think like yourself, Victoria. Put yourself in her mind. It’s as important to know the motivations and thoughts of your opponent as it is to have the physical skills. She feels as if she has given you this great gift, the gift of immortality, and in return you were to worship her. In her mind, that was the tradeoff. I imagine she was amused at your attempts to escape and the fire in you, but even with that, you stayed and did her bidding. Because you escaped and then attacked her, she feels betrayed, and having her running on that emotion makes her even more dangerous. Now she doesn’t want to return you to the fold—she wants to end your existence. It will be a very different countess that you will come up against at your next meeting.”

  Victoria stood there processing all Ovidia had said. It was not what she wanted to hear. She did not want to think like the countess, even if it was the way to defeat her. Ovidia was right about the mind of the countess; Victoria had betrayed her and then struck her, marring her beauty, something she knew the countess revered above all else.

  Victoria nodded at her friend. “You are correct. I see now it is wise to look at things from her side and not just mine.”

  “Good, and as such, I have tweaked your simulation. The countess you fought before will not be there the next time you step into the simulation. I have had the mage add in rage and a desire, not to maim and capture, but to kill. She will come a lot harder, but rage can make a fighter sloppy. If you keep your cool and use your skills, you can best her.”

  Victoria nodded and watched as Ovidia strode out of the room. The next day they would use the new simulation, and she would have to have all of her wits about her to beat this new version of the countess. She would not stay hidden in her lair forever; she would surface again, and they would find her.

  “I see Ovidia has been up to her old tricks.” Victoria turned and smiled as Armand walked into the room.

  “Yes, I spent more time on the floor than on my feet, but she says I am improving.”

  Armand raised his eyebrows. “That is fine praise coming from our Valkyrie.”

  “Stingy she is with it, but yes I think I actually made her try this time, which is an improvement.”

  Armand gathered her into his arms. She lay her head on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. It beat for her, she knew, another sign she had found her mate.

  She lifted her head and he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I am worried for you, Victoria. The countess is going to want revenge, and I can’t lose you. I didn’t think I would find someone to share this long life with, but now that I have…”

  Victoria put her finger to his lips. “She will not have me. I can’t hide myself away like I know you would like me to—you know I can’t. I have to stand up to her.”

  Armand put his cheek on top of her head and ran his hand through her hair. “I know you do, but is it so wrong to want to protect you?”

  Victoria lifted her head again and put her lips to his, showing him her love without words.

  Chapter 40

  Victoria lay on the ground, her body buzzing from so many wounds and her head dizzy with the loss of blood. She had asked for it and had been warned, but she hadn’t listened.

  “Here, drink this.” Ovidia shoved a cup under her nose, and Victoria sighed as she smelled the warm coppery scent of blood. Wincing as she sat up, she drained it as well as the next one Ovidia offered.

  “Thank you.”

  “I can’t believe I am rewarding your stupidity, but at least we know the lessons with Teagan are working. I can’t believe you tampered with the mage’s creation. That thing could have ended your existence—you do realize that, right?”

  Victoria stood. This was not a conversation she wanted to have looking up at her friend. “Yes, but I needed it to be real. When it happens, it is implausible to think I will get by without a scratch. I needed to know what it felt like to fight with real injuries.”

  “Arming it with silver was necessary?” Ovidia raised one eyebrow, telling Victoria all she needed to know about what her friend thought of her stupidity.

  “She may come with such a weapon for revenge, and I need to be able to learn to fight through pain.” She needed to make sure she could do so as there was part of herself that still doubted. She still felt like the mouse to the countess, even though she knew it was a mirage.

  “Well, you have balls. I will give you that. If Odin had more warriors with your heart and bravery, the Vikings would have conquered and the Americans would be speaking an entirely different language.”

  Victoria bowed. “A high compliment coming from a Viking goddess.”

  Ovidia rolled her eyes. “I am not a Viking goddess—I am a warrior.”

  Victoria snorted. “One who likes Jimmy Choos.”

  Ovidia shrugged and grinned. “A girl has to have a hobby.”

  Victoria laughed. Her friend was such a paradox, a mighty warrior and a slick fashionista all in the same woman.

  “Ladies, I have something you need to see.” The smile slid off of Victoria’s face as she looked at Armand’s expression.

  “There’s been another, hasn’t there,” she whispered.

  “Yes, and you need to brace yourself—it is a gruesome sight.”

  The two women nodded and followed Armand out of the room to the front foyer, where he handed Victoria another note.

  At his feet lay a body. It was unrecognizable. The tattered bits of clothing still clinging to it indicated it had been a woman, one from a far older period.

 
Victoria turned from the sight and flipped the envelope over. There again was the seal of the countess. She slid her finger underneath it and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

  Dear Victoria,

  There is no rhyme attached, no playful banter. This is no longer a game, my little mouse. You have shown your teeth, and after everything I have given, after everything I have forgiven, you choose to snap back at me, to aide those who want to bind me. If it is a fight you seek, if it is a battle you want, I am ready. I will fight it on my own terms. I have gone to a place that is special to me. You will know it. It is far from you in a time where people still believed royalty should be treated with respect. I have gone to nurse my wounds and broken heart with one who understands all parts of me. You will know where that is. I feel the need to dance my cares away so I will be there for the ball of 1915. He has become melancholy of late, and I wish to be with him as he was.

  I look forward to matching our talents, and of course his. You have your allies, my dear, and I have mine. Come to me and fight fair if you dare.

  Your sire,

  The countess of Bathory

  Victor, Ovidia, and Armand stood waiting, and Victoria .

  “She has gone to Russia. She has a lover there, Rasputin. He ingratiated himself with the royal family by saving their son, who suffered from the bleeding disease. We spent time there off and on, and he has come to her. The last time we were there was right before the start of the First World War. She knew his death was imminent and she changed him. He had bouts of melancholy as a human and they became worse as a vampire, and she tires of him easily when he is in this mood. It makes sense she would go to him in that time, the height of their courtship.”

  “You did not attend that ball,” Armand asked.

  “No, and neither did she. We were elsewhere, she knew he would soon join her, and she was in the mood for sun and sand, not the dreary winter.” Victoria took a deep breath. “I will go and confront her. This is for me. You all have helped me tremendously, but this is for me to do. I am afraid she will use you as a weapon against me, and if I go alone—”

  “That is unacceptable. I have tracked and hunted her for centuries, and I will not give up now. I will be there to see her defeat. There is more between us that needs revenge than just her involvement in what I believed to be your death, Amora, and you are selfish to want her all to yourself.” Victor’s breath came in pants as he ground out the words, his eyes ablaze.

  Victoria lowered her eyes and then they flashed back to Victor. “I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of your revenge, I only seek to protect you as you once protected me.”

  “We will all go as we will all be needed. The matter is final. It is an institute mission, and I am the head of the institute,” Armand declared.

  Victoria nodded. She could have argued and pointed out that Bran was the head of the institute now, but it would have only served to make him angry, and no good would come of that. She would relent and allow them to come to Russia with her, but she would be the one to bring down the countess. It was her right. The original wrong that had started all of this had been perpetrated against her. She would be the one to set it right. So, she would allow them to come, and then when the time was right, she would lure the countess away and end this.

  A small voice told her both Armand and Victor would be furious about having their revenge thwarted, but she pushed it away and focused on the mission at hand. She would need to talk to Mrs. Bloom as they would need attire for 1900s Russia as well as cover identities.

  They could be wealthy English tourists on a grand tour. She would contact Mrs. Bloom through the mirror and they would complete this mission; surely it would work. It felt as if they had been hunting the countess for years instead of mere weeks. She would deal with the fallout between her and Armand after the countess was dealt with. It was for her to deal with her sire; it was the vampire way, and they would eventually see reason.

  She didn’t want to think of the consequences if they did not. She did not relish returning to her old position in the institute or making her own way in this strange modern world. She had come to care for Armand and did want the life they had started to build together, but if he did not understand her need to vanquish the countess then he didn’t understand her. The woman had stolen so much from her, and she needed to end this.

  The others continued to stare at her, and she smiled at them. “I agree. The countess has proved a wily adversary, and all hands on deck is the right choice.”

  Ovidia and Victor relaxed. She watched Armand out of the corner of her eye; he didn’t seem as convinced as the others of her sudden change of mind. She would see to it that he was, and when the time was right, it wouldn’t matter. She would end the countess, and it would be done.

  Chapter 41

  Victoria stood the fur-lined collar of her coat up against the blowing snow. She may have been immortal and immune to actually feeling the icy wind, but having the snow whipped into her face was still an unpleasant sensation.

  “Where is the blasted car” Victor roared, looking up and down the snow-covered streets of Tsarskoye Selo, the location of the Alexander Palace, home of the Romanovs.

  The words had no sooner left his mouth than a sleek town car pulled up in front of them, the windshield wipers swishing madly in a vain attempt to clear it of the heavy snowfall.

  They slipped into the car and began to creep down the street. The chauffeur, a member of the institute, did not question their sudden arrival. He knew only that they were operatives there to roust out a vampire; the rest had been kept secret. Armand wanted no more deaths on his hands, and they were only told to be on high alert and watchful.

  The driver spoke after a moment. “There have been unexplained disappearances of young local girls. One of the bodies was found frozen, and what was done to her was unspeakable. The local police are beside themselves. There have been three disappearances in the last week, and now with one of them showing up as a body, they will be looking even harder at any strangers. Your vampire needs to be stopped before we are all exposed.”

  “We are a specialized team, here for that exact purpose. We will deal with her swiftly, and there will be no more disappearances.” The coldness of Armand’s voice rivaled the wind and snow that whipped around the car. The driver only nodded, trusting in this elite team sent by the institute.

  Victoria only wished she had as much confidence in herself as Armand appeared to. He had been quiet during the preparations, but she had caught him looking at her as if trying to read her thoughts at quiet moments. She knew he did not quite believe her easy change of mind in letting the rest of the group accompany her to Russia, but he would watch and wait. He did not confront her, making her all the more nervous. What she was doing was right. It often happened in such cases when the sire went mad or stepped over the line one too many times that a progeny was sent to deal with the situation.

  She had worried quite a lot and changed her mind many times, but she always came back to the conclusion that in the end it should be her and the countess alone, that she had been tortured and had endured under the cruel power of the woman and therefore alone had the right to end her existence.

  She repeatedly ignored the small voice in the back of her mind that told her she was not thinking clearly, that they had just as much right to go at the countess as she did because they had people of their own that they needed to avenge. She ruthlessly ignored that voice and continued each night to fight the mirage until she was bloody and bruised. She bore the scars of those fights as slashes with a silver blade did not heal as quickly or completely as those with a steel blade. The vampires held that in common with the fae, and it had always made Victoria wonder if a bit of fae magic was involved in the reanimation of her kind. Thoughts for another day, she mused. She needed to pay attention, to be alert, to get settled and end this torment with the countess.

  The car pulled up to a stately mansion just outside of town. It was owned by the institu
te, one of many such places throughout time and all over the world, places for operatives to stay, posing as wealthy merchants or tourists from other lands. She would be glad to get in and start looking for the countess. Victoria had a feeling they would not have to look far as the one they sought would make sure their paths crossed, and on her own terms.

  Her prediction came true much sooner than she had anticipated.

  “There has been a missive sent for you, miss.” The dour butler handed her an envelope.

  Victoria looked down at it, the expensive paper and flowing cursive so familiar to her that, before she turned it over and saw the familiar wax seal, she knew it was from the countess.

  Slipping a fingernail underneath the seal to break it, she slipped out the single sheet of creamy paper.

  My Dearest Amora,

  Shall I call you Victoria now? I have heard you have changed your name since leaving us. Such a pity as Amora was such a beautiful name.

  Alas, look at me tittering on about such banal things. There is to be a party at the Alexander Palace, and the Romanovs throw such wonderful parties. They have a short time left before their deaths, so who would begrudge them such a diversion. This is your invitation. Bring your friends if you must. We must catch up.

  Sincerely,

  The Countess

  Victoria closed her eyes. She would have to have Mrs. Bloom come in as she would need one of the ingenious woman’s trademark dresses, one that would allow her to fight. The countess had thrown down the gauntlet, as it were. Victoria knew it was a trap, knew the countess had no intention of fighting fair. She would walk into it knowing full well that her enemy would have the upper hand.

  Victoria folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope, her calm exterior covering for the shaking she felt inside. She was a different creature than the one that had fled the countess. She had learned to harness her magic and fight like a demon—or more accurately, like a Valkyrie. The thought sent a smile flitting across her lips. The party was in a few days, so she would continue to train with the simulation. She would get that fraction of a bit better that may mean the difference between life and death, and then she would meet the countess. She would defeat her. There was no other option.