The Satanic Brides of Dracula

by Lucas Thorn

  “Well, Senka,” Vasilja said. Amusement making her reach out and twirl the youngest vampire’s hair around her finger. “I’m so glad we brought you along for such astounding displays of insight. Without you, I can’t imagine how we would have coped. I imagine Hailwic and I would be standing here looking like complete fools.”

  “Don’t talk like that.” Senka slapped her hand away. “I didn’t know what else to say. Just because I’m not as good with words like you are, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  “Very well,” Hailwic said. Seemed to weigh the book in her hand. “What do you think, Senka? What do you think we should do?”

  Vasilja’s hands flew up to her cheeks and she stepped back, aghast.

  Mock horror played across her face. “Are you seriously asking her what she thinks?”

  “Quiet, Vasilja.” Back to Senka. “Well? They were your dreams. You must have seen something.”

  “I told you. I saw the Fel. And it was inside me. I saw armies rising out of the earth. Demons. With green skin and burning eyes. And we were leading them.” She closed her eyes. “And I saw this grimoire in my first dream after I came to the castle. Green with a silver pentagram. Just like this. And I was reading from right here. In this house. It even had the same chair and rug and everything. The Fel came to me in that dream, so the book must be a key. I remember it so vividly. Stop sniggering, Vasilja. I saw it.”

  “Oh, I’m not sniggering. But couldn’t it just be a dream, Senka?” Vasilja took the grimoire and opened at random. “Look at this. It’s mostly nonsense. Why, there’s a whole chapter in here on how to make a Hand of Glory. You know what that is, don’t you? A fetish for rapists. It’s hardly real magic at all.”

  “It’s not all nonsense,” Hailwic said.

  “Mostly it is. Oh, look. Astrological charts. How quaint. What was your birth date again, Hailwic? We can find out what kind of man you’re likely to marry. Or what’s the best day to buy a new pair of boots.”

  “Stop it, Vasilja.”

  “There must be more to it,” Senka said. “If this is only half of the book, then someone must have the other half. Don’t you think?”

  “Oh, I suppose so.” Vasilja rolled her eyes. “But it’s all so tiresome. I thought we were going to London. Do we really have time for this? You said it yourself, Hailwic. You wanted to get to Dracula as fast as possible.”

  “This is important, too.”

  “I don’t see how. There are other books, you know. Other rituals. It doesn’t have to be this one.”

  “Ask Franz if he knows where the rest is.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Don’t sulk, Vasilja. It’s not like you.”

  “I think it is,” Senka said. Grinned.

  “Don’t be horrid,” Vasilja snapped. “I still haven’t forgotten the time you put garlic in my coffin.”

  Senka poked her tongue out.

  And Hailwic shoved herself between the two of them. Crossed her arms and glared at Vasilja. “Ask him. We’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

  “Oh, very well.” Shoved the grimoire back at Hailwic and flew in front of the shocked man. Hovered just off the ground, toes twitching angrily. Still managed to smile. Leaned down and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Said sweetly; “You were listening, weren’t you, Franz?”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  “That’s alright. You were in the same room. It’s only natural.” Smiled wider. Slapped both hands down onto his shoulders. “Tell me where you got the grimoire.”

  “Paris,” he said. “I know some Luciferians.”

  “Luciferians?” She clapped her hands in delight. “Not Satanists? Luciferians! How charming. Most bourgeois. I approve. They sound like wonderful people. We simply must meet them. Who are they, Franz? Could you write their names down for me?”

  “I could do better, Lady,” he said. Licked lips. “I could show you. Introduce you. I can help you.”

  “I’m not sure Hailwic would think that was a good idea.”

  “It might be quicker,” the other vampire said. “Can you control him, though? He seems unstable.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he needs much control. Do you, Franz? You want the same thing, after all. You want power.”

  “Yes. I want that. I’ll do anything.”

  “Would you help us to perform our little ritual, Franz?”

  “The ritual from the book?”

  “Yes. That one.”

  “You know what it does?”

  “Of course we do, silly.”

  “And you really want to summon him. The Devil?”

  She purred as she stroked his face with her fingertips. “Who else would give someone everything they ever wanted?”

  “Please take me with you, Lady.” He dropped to his knees. “I’ll serve you forever. I swear.”

  “I like this man,” Vasilja said. “Hailwic? Can I keep him? I promise to look after him all by myself.”

  “I thought we were going to bite him,” Senka said. “We agreed.”

  “Yes, but now we need him to show us Paris. Don’t you want to get the rest of your little book, Senka? Well, then we can’t bite him.” Vasilja wrapped her arms around Franz Hartmann’s head and pulled him close. “We must protect him. Keep him close. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Franz?”

  “Yes, Lady,” he said. Voice muffled. “Very much.”

  “You see? I have him completely under control.” She flung him back and danced in the air. “Paris! Oh, how I love Paris. The charming little boutiques. The perfume! The dresses. Such fashions found only in France! The lightest of silks. The purest of leathers! Theatres everywhere. Delightful little flowergirls on almost every corner. Their pretty little necks just full of blood.”

  “Garlic,” Halwic grunted. “You forgot the garlic.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose there is that.”

  Senka crossed her arms. “Then, who can I bite?”

  “I don’t know, Senka. Perhaps we’ll find someone on the way back.”

  “And what if we don’t?”

  “Then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow, won’t you? Honestly, since we’ve gotten to the city, it’s like you expect you can eat every night.”

  “There’s so many people here, though.” She pushed her nose against the glass window. Looked out at gaslights burning along the street. Squinted as she caught sight of a few figures moving quickly between. “Who’d miss one or two?”

  “Not tonight,” Hailwic said. Decision made. “I want to you to look through this book some more. You need to separate out which pieces you think are right, and which are wrong.”

  Vasilja let out a throaty laugh. “That sounds positively exciting. I bet you can’t wait to get started.”

  The youngest vampire looked down at her hand. Veins, dark against the inside of her wrists.

  In her dreams, they glowed bright with venomous light.

  Fel.

  The feeling had been ecstatic as it burned through her.

  Frightening, too.

  But ecstatic.

  She curled her fingers. Tried to concentrate on the memory of that feeling rather than the aching hunger for blood.

  “I want to get some tea, though,” she said. Put her hat back on and fished into her coat for a pair of white kidskin gloves. “From the coffeehouse. For Dimiti.”

  “You’re spoiling him,” Vasilja said. “He’s supposed to be our servant.”

  “He saved my life.”

  “Yes, but that’s no reason to buy him tea every day, is it? I mean, it was his job, Senka. I told him to do that. I don’t see you thanking me for telling him to look after you. You haven’t bought me any nice flowers or anything.”

  “You said you hated the flowers here.”

  “I do. But that’s no reason not to buy them for me, is it?”

  “I’ll get you some in Paris.”

  “In Paris, they come with the flowergirl.”

  “Are they small?”


  Vasilja’s grin was predatory. Franz, looking into it, ducked his head away. “They’re delicious. Aren’t they Hailwic?”

  “Help him to pack his bag. We can talk about Paris on the way.”

  “There you go again. Taking all the fun out of things.” She took hold of his necktie and began floating toward the doorway, dragging him behind. “Come along, Franz. Let’s go find out what naughty things you keep in your closet. I do hope you’re inventive.”

  Hailwic drifted up behind the young vampire still at the window. Put a hand on her shoulder. Kept her voice low. “Are you sure about all this, Senka?”

  “I think so.” She put her own hands on the glass. Feeling the crisp cold. “Is that enough, do you think?”

  “I’m not sure.” Hailwic followed Senka’s stare. “I want it to be. It gives me hope. Because Vasilja’s right. Dracula hasn’t been the same. Things have changed. More than I can say.”

  “He’s always been the same to me.”

  “That’s because you didn’t know him before.” She looked down at the grimoire. “Lucifer’s Bargain meant a lot to him when we met. His passion for it consumed him. In the early years, the mountain streams would run red with blood most nights. We gorged, Senka. Gorged like your dreams. Dedicated every feast to Hell’s glory on Earth. Vasilja was there for the end of it. Dracula’s final army was destroyed by Hungarians. It was his third. If you could call it an army, of course. More like a band of savages he’d attracted from as far away as Rome. No real military training, which is why they ran. I tried to warn him about that, but he was born in a simpler time when all you needed was a sword and an axe and the lust for victory. He thought just his presence would be enough to secure victory. He expected the Hungarians to run. They didn’t.”

  “What changed him?”

  “I’m not sure.” She looked down at her feet. Thinking. “After you joined us, he retreated. Refused to speak. At first, I thought it was just melancholy. I thought he’d grow out of it. Instead, he grew into it.”

  “Was it my fault, Hailwic?”

  The blonde vampire put her arms around Senka. Touched her forehead to the other’s own and smiled. “Never. His problems were his own.”

  “Vasilja blames me.”

  “Because you replaced her, for a time. And, when he changed, it must seem to her that you triggered something different in him. But she saw the signs from before, so blames you less than you think.”

  “I feel so stupid. What if she’s right? What if they’re just dreams?”

  Hailwic kissed her cheek. “If they’re dreams, I won’t think less of you.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because if they give us nothing else, your dreams have given me hope, Senka. And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The sun left a soft blush against mountains which were being swallowed by impending night. Crisp evening air already bit into their bones.

  “Put your shoulder into it, Franz. Come on! I’d rather sleep in a tavern tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “I’m a doctor, not a fucking labourer!”

  “I don’t give a pig’s arse what you think you are, you weak piece of shit. Right now you’re the only fucking thing I have! Now, push!”

  They roared together, each man leaning hard on the wagon’s wheel until, with a soulful creak, it rolled free of the savage ditch.

  The ox, feeling free, trotted a few steps before stopping.

  Shook its head. Looked back at Dimiti, who leaned against the side of the wagon. Sweat pouring off lank hair and down his face.

  The old man reached out and thumped Franz on the back.

  “There you go,” he said. “Good work in the end.”

  Franz dropped to the ground. A tired heap. “I can’t do this, Dimiti. I wasn’t made for it, was I? I’m a scholar. A doctor. Look at me. Look at my hands. What’s this? A blister. It’s a blister.”

  “You’ve never travelled?”

  “Of course I have! But I’m usually in a coach. Not pushing them out of the mud.”

  “Well, it’ll be good experience for you, won’t it?”

  “No,” the little man curled his lips. “No, it bloody well won’t. I hate it. I can’t stand it. Look. My trousers, they’re ruined.”

  “Should’ve brought another pair.”

  “I did. They’re even worse.”

  “Quit your moaning, Franz. There’s a town up ahead. A hot meal and a decent kip and you’ll feel right as rain.”

  “Until it rains.” Bitter. Spat into a puddle on the side of the road. “What was I thinking?”

  “Whatever it was,” Dimiti said. “Keep thinking it. It’ll keep you going.”

  “Why come this way at all, though, Dimiti? Why? Look at this. Mud. It’s just fucking mud. It’s not a real road, even. It’s not on a map. Surely there are better ways. We could have taken the ferry. Or a train.”

  “Aye,” he said. “There’s a lot better than this, for sure. But it’s what she wanted. So, we live with it.”

  The little man looked up, his intense expression staring holes in the other man.

  Who ignored him.

  Was used to the stare by now.

  “Aren’t you ever conflicted, Dimiti?” The little man’s eyes were shrewd, but something stirred inside them. Something which doubted. “Don’t you ask yourself if you’re really doing what you want, or is it because of her? Because of the touch she put on your mind?”

  “Don’t waste your breath on me with that kind of talk. I’ll serve her for the rest of my life.”

  “And how long will that be, do you think? How long before she tires of you. She’s not like you and I, Dimiti.” Quick look to the coffins. To the last shred of daylight. Hurrying now. “Satan’s work. Even to her bones. All three of them. They creep inside our heads, though. Make us do things. Are we doing them because of us? Are these our choices. I can’t be sure. Dammit, man, how can I be sure?”

  “Whatever my choices are now, Franz, it were my choice to serve in the beginning. I’ll accept what comes. She’ll look out for me. I know it.”

  “Damnation? Burning in the fires of Hell for all eternity?” His tongue flicked out. Back in. Quicker than a whip. “They’re evil. How can such evil look out for us? They don’t look at us as anything more than servants!”

  Dimiti looked the man up and down, expression showing he didn’t much like what he was seeing.

  But age stopped him from leaping on Franz and stabbing him in the throat.

  Instead, he shook his head. “It isn’t about evil. It never was. Not to me. I’ve heard it said that every man can commit acts of unspeakable cruelty, or greatest kindness. All that changes him is the situation he finds himself in.”

  “That’s got to be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”

  Dimiti shrugged. “I don’t much give a shit what you think, Franz. And I never will.”

  “What does she see in you, I wonder?”

  “Probably someone who doesn’t complain.”

  “Like a dog, you mean?” Lightly. “Are you saying you’re a dog, Dimiti?”

  “Aye, if that’s what she wants me to be.”

  “I bet you think of licking-”

  Dimiti wrenched the little man by his collar. Lifted with inhuman strength to slam him against the wagon.

  To Franz, it was as if Dimiti’s eyes glowed sullen red as the older man glared into his face.

  Fear churned his belly and he wondered if he’d pushed Dimiti too far.

  “You listen to me, you little shit. Listen good. I don’t give a fuck what you say about me. I really don’t. You think you’re better than me with your dandy clothes and your snuffbox and your picky manners. You think you’re a better man. That’s fine. I haven’t been bothered by that kind of shit in a long time.” Pushed his face so close. The deep lines in the old man’s face didn’t look so deep. Didn’t look caused by age. They looked unnatural. Made h
im look like a gargoyle. “But I’ve heard enough of your shit about her. If you talk about the Lady like that again, I’ll have your tongue. I’ll nail it to the nearest fucking tree.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I fucking well would. And it would be a pleasure.”

  “She wouldn’t like that.”

  “I don’t think she’d mind in the end, Franz. You’d still have your hands to write. And an educated man such as yourself can surely write anything she wants from you.”

  “She did something to you, didn’t she?” The little man peered closer. Even the old man’s skin seemed strange now he was really looking. Smoother than it should be. “What did she do?”

  “If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.” Dimiti let go with a shove. “Just you remember what I said.”

  “She promised me power, Dimiti. All she promised you is servitude.” Franz absently smoothed down his rumpled clothes. “I’m going to ask her to give you to me, one day. And when she does, I’ll have you flogged every single morning. Right before breakfast. I’ll listen to you beg, do you know that? You’ll beg for mercy from me every day, but you’ll never get it.”

  Dimiti snorted. “I don’t beg.”

  The old man walked away, leaving Franz to let out an ugly chuckle as he slumped against the wheel. “But you’re a dog, Dimiti,” he called. “Just a dog. That’s exactly what you do. You beg.”

  Dimiti didn’t answer.

  But another voice did.

  “I want to bite you.”

  He spun, heart racing. Found Senka perched on top of her wagon. Eyes slitted dangerous. Red lips an angry line.

  “I didn’t mean anything,” he stammered. “I was just teasing. That’s all. There’s nothing to do out here. The mountains. There’s too many mountains. They close in on me. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it!”

  He threw himself to the ground as she swooped over his head, hissing through her fangs. Dress whipped his back.

  Her clawed hands lashed once, leaving three thin lines down the back of his neck.

  Landing without a sound, she crouched. A panther ready to pounce. “I really want to bite you.”

  “Senka,” Vasilja called. “Please leave Franz alone.”