The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  Radu dropped the dead man’s leg when he was done. His pulse surged from the blood of his two kills, the ecstasy arousing every primal instinct within him. With his bladder close to bursting, he took the time necessary to empty it. While he urinated, he listened to the sound of the wagon in the distance as its wheels bounced against the frozen ground. Already, the consuming of human blood had heightened his senses tenfold. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he took to the air.

  The seams of his clothes split as the blood he had consumed took full effect and his muscles expanded further. His penis grew to a new length and strained to be free. It thrilled him beyond measure, but with the exhilarating sensations came urges he needed to satisfy. He now looked to the merchant for that, and grew eager to meet with him.

  Radu caught him with ease. He flew just above the merchant’s head for a time, listening to his thoughts. The merchant drove the team on, wondering what kind of horrors had claimed the lives of his men. He had no clue that his pursuer was so close. Radu was content just to listen, and saw that the man was truly terrified.

  He dropped a little lower. When he was only inches away, he whispered into the merchant’s ear. “Good night to you, young sir.”

  The merchant looked around. He shrieked with terror when he saw Radu there, in the air above him. In his panic, the reins fell free from his grip. The team careered on with no one to guide them.

  Radu grabbed his collar, and lifted him clear of the wagon before dropping him on the side of the road. The merchant tumbled over several times before landing in a heap, suffering cuts and bruises to his arms and legs. He looked up to see Radu standing over him. From the sheer terror he felt, he burst into tears. “What do you want with me?” he managed to ask between sobs.

  Radu looked him over. Here was an even younger man than he had realised, and one who looked pleasant on the eye. “A little sport, perhaps.”

  “Sport?” he asked, confused. “I can give you plenty of coin, if that is what you want. I have enough.”

  “Is that so?”

  “There are twenty thousand ducats in the wagon.”

  “And only two guards?”

  The merchant still trembled. “I do not like to draw attention upon myself.”

  “Why carry it across the country? That is a foolish thing to do.”

  “I lost two ships but a month past. I did not want to risk my fortune on another.”

  “So you are worth more than that which you have on the wagon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you give it all to walk away from here alive?”

  The man perked up at the notion that he might yet survive this. “Yes, of course. I would do anything.”

  “So, where is it?”

  “What, my fortune?”

  “Yes.”

  “It lies in a vault in my home in Sibiu. Look, here is the key. Take it.”

  The man removed a key from around his neck, and tossed it at Radu’s feet. Radu ignored it and gazed at him instead. The look in his eyes scared the man more than at any time before.

  “What is your name?” Radu asked him.

  “D-D-Daniul.”

  “Well, Daniul,” Radu said, grinning to reveal his blood-stained fangs. “You might want to try and run.”

  Daniul’s bottom lip quivered. He was too afraid to move, and tears streamed down his face. When Radu stepped forward, though, he scrambled to his feet. Without as much as a glance at the vampire, he turned and fled.

  Radu stayed no more than a pace behind him. “Run, Daniul,” he said again. “Run for your life.”

  The young merchant cried louder when Radu reached out and grabbed the back of his collar. It slowed his run, and his coat and shirt ripped down the middle. Daniul fell to the ground from the force exerted by his pursuer. The rest of his clothing hung from his shoulders in tatters. As he tried to get up again, Radu pulled on his hosiery. It shredded like paper in his hands.

  He scrambled clear of his pursuer once more, the rest of his clothes falling to the ground. Naked, he ran away shrieking. Radu undressed and gave chase. The feeling of the cold air against his penis made him gasp. It slapped against his belly as he moved. Straining so much that it physically hurt, he had to have a release. He had to have it now.

  Radu dived on him, and they tumbled to the ground. Daniul cried out again as his knees scraped against the hard earth. He hit his head, but was aware enough to know that the body pressing against his was naked also.

  “Are you a girl, Daniul?” Radu whispered in his ear. “You cry like one. I wonder if you might scream like one, too.”

  “I shall give you anything,” Daniul pleaded. “I beg you, leave me be.”

  “You have but one thing I want,” Radu said, his voice as cold as ice.

  “The location of my home in Sibiu?” he asked.

  He blurted out the details in the hope that it might save him. Radu took it all in, though he did not speak again. That was something for another day. Daniul only screamed from that moment on. Radu was not gentle in taking him. His cries echoed for a long distance, but no one could hear him.

  The young merchant lay paralysed on the ground. Radu had damaged him beyond repair. He looked down to see his victim unconscious and haemorrhaging badly. Exposed like that, the cold would kill him soon.

  Radu left him there. He closed his eyes and extended his arms to either side before roaring at the top of his lungs. Only one thought occupied his mind now, and that was of how he might avenge himself against his brother. He dressed again and picked up the key from the ground. In Sibiu, he found a fortune tucked away in the vault just as Daniul had said. He took it, and made his way to England.

  He bought a plush residence in an affluent area close to Greenwich Palace in London. A craftsman moulded him a mask, which he wore about his face. It was early summer now in 1504. He stood on the London docks and watched his two ships set sail for Rome.

  This was the beginning. However long it took, he would build his fortune. He would harness his strength and use his time to learn more about and develop his powers. Then he would go after his brother. Everything he did was to serve that end. Dracula would see him again, and he would pay.

  ###

  More from Shane KP O'Neill:

  http://www.draculachronicles.co.uk/category/the-chronicles/

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6580373.Shane_K_P_O_Neill

  LUNA SANGUIS

  By

  Simon Okill

  Luna Sanguis

  Written By

  Copyright ©Simon OKill 2013

  Published By

  Simon Okill

  Edited by Simon Okill, Marian Bonelli & Travis Luedke

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

  I would like to thank Travis Luedke for his awesome editing and sticking with me through thick and thin.

  All that is dear to me

  Captured my heart when first

  Our eyes did meet and now

  As one our minds are entwined.

  This novel of poetic desire is dedicated to my wife, Shirley Anne.

  Chapter 1

  All that was the blood rose slowly withered and died

  All that was her beauty did shiver and cried

  All that was her life her sanguineous delight

  All that remained was taken by the specter of the night.

  5th June 1925

  A CRUSHING CLOAK OF silence bore down, heavy and cloying like death itself. The faintest churning of her stomach would surely alert the intruders. Beneath the rosewood dining table the young woman shivered and wished she could curl up under warm bed covers for safety. The coldness of her fear tightened her skin to goose bumps. Oh how much she wanted to cry out but terror held her tongue.

  A shattering roar echoed within her like distant thunder on the horizon. The explosion of sound ripped across her mind, a savage wind through leafless trees.

>   Her nostrils wrinkled with the stench of something bitter and metallic. It triggered her taste buds with a memory of something wholesome. Muffled screams and more explosions stabbed her mind with visions of death.

  Blurred images slowly came into focus as her trembling hands uncovered her eyes. She almost gasped in shock, biting her hand to remain silent. Ribbons of grey smoke swirled from the bloody hole in a man’s chest. His lifeless eyes stared into her terrified soul, his dark, rich blood pooling on the floor around his outstretched arm.

  The sickening aroma of his essence was instantly frightening. The scent teased her hunger and fear. Her tears blurred the scene, running down her cheeks to moisten her parched lips. Where was she? Her mind drew a blank so complete she thought she might be dead. Is this what death feels like? A cold numbing dread infected her senses with confusion.

  A scream of darkness so vile and stomach-churning penetrated her thoughts like a skewer through raw meat. Rigid with shock, she put her hands to her ears and stopped breathing, the scream becoming a torrent of agonized screeching ravens from hell. Her hands could not block out the black storm of hate penetrating her quivering soul.

  Plaintive whimpering, as if from a dying animal, attracted her attention. Forcing air into her lungs, she tried not to gag on the putrid stench of death. The acrid taste of pervading terror filled her mind like bitter, sour wine and something else, something she could not quite grasp. She knew the woman making the sick, cat-like sound was dying, but her identity had been erased. Looking up, she found herself hiding underneath the dining table and touched the rough wood. Solid, ridged, hard, the feeling reassured her of reality. Relief flooded her. She was not in the realm of the dead.

  Frantic movement caught her attention. The woman’s legs kicked in agony. A man in dark trousers and another woman with bare feet displaying black-lacquered toenails fought with the woman. Bright red blood dripped from the chair the woman was sitting on.

  The victim cried out. “No Sebastian!”

  Who was Sebastian? Heart-stopping fear ripped her mind apart and left an empty cauldron of oblivion. The metallic screeching of swordplay sent shivers down her back. She hugged herself to stop the cold creeping into her bones, pulling her knees up to her chin, stretching her dress. Her powerful mind shut out the cries of death and hatred. The silence comforted her. She listened to her stomach churn with the need to convulse its contents.

  Men’s legs rushed towards her. A heavy thud rocked the table. A crescendo of clattering cutlery almost forced a scream from her quivering lips. She brushed away her hair obscuring her vision.

  The frightened woman flinched as more cutlery and dinner plates crashed to the wooden floor. With utter dread, she stared at the blood-red contents of a spilled bottle of wine slowly spreading towards her.

  She recognized the long black coat covering the black leather trousers worn by Him, but she could not remember his name. Her mind tuned into His terrible thoughts of murder and hatred. A vitriol so complete it devoured all in its path. She crawled on hands and knees to get away from those legs. Her instincts told her she must escape Him again.

  The sound of splintering wood! She looked up, biting her hand to prevent a scream giving her away as the tip of His sword sliced through the table, stopping less than an inch from her eye. Gore dripped from the tip of His blade and ran down her face. The awful screams subsided to mere whimpers.

  The room fell ominously silent amplifying those dreadful sucking, gurgling sounds of insatiable hunger. The thought of those carnal sounds consuming her flesh brought a new level of terror.

  Scrambling on all fours to the edge of the table, a faint rustling sound diverted her attention. She dared to look back. To her utter horror, a pale hand with black fingernails lifted the tablecloth. A leering white face, smeared with gore took her breath away. Her heart almost stopped. It was Him! The mouth grinned, revealing oversized canine teeth stained red.

  “There you are!” The mouth laughed.

  She scurried from beneath the table and rushed through the shattered French doors. Her trembling legs, weak with terror, carried her across a vast lawn to the surrounding woods.

  Dawn’s cold rain slashed across her tearful face. Lightning crackled from brooding clouds, followed by a thunderous reply. She kicked off her elegant shoes and raced bare foot through the undergrowth. Branches whipped at her face and legs slicing thin scratches. Her beautiful dress – now hanging by a single strap, left thin tatters upon every thorn. The all-consuming blackness of His evil pursued her ever closer. Don’t stop! She resisted the urge to look behind, for to do so would be fatal. She ran and ran until her heart pounded to escape her chest.

  She sensed his wicked thoughts hunting her. He was so close she could almost hear his blood pumping through his festering heart. The sounds of him stumbling and cursing spurred her on into the encroaching light of dawn.

  “You won’t get far my Delicate Rose.” His cruel laughter tormented her.

  ~~~~

  Delicate Rose clambered down a steep embankment of wet grass. She slipped and fell into a filthy ditch of muddy water with a skin of floating debris. Crawling from the muck, she heard a strange sound, like a growling dog. She paused half out of the ditch, listening to the sound growing louder.

  It seemed an eternity from one thudding heartbeat to the next. In that interminable moment the shock of recognition crashed headlong into her – an approaching car – His car. Transfixed with indecision, the sudden glare of headlamps snapped her from her terror. She slipped back into the ditch, forgetting to take a deep breath in her panic.

  She dared to open her eyes. Through the filthy water she caught a glimpse of a hideous creature, smoking black with glowing red eyes like hot coals. The demonic figure removed something from its black cloak. Bubbles of precious air escaped with her water-logged scream.

  It was Him and his precious blade of death. The deadly steel plunged into the water close to her face. Again, the blade swished through the muck, this time skimming across her thigh, leaving a fine scratch. She held her breath as waves of hatred washed over her, clearly sensing His frustration as he returned to the car.

  From under the water she heard the car’s angry growl and felt the ripples of its power. She waited until her lungs were about to collapse before risking a gulp of air. A large rat crawled over face. Her scream was filled with stagnant water. Coughing the filth from her lungs, she dragged her shivering body from the ditch. Her convulsing stomach forced her to her knees, coughing up more muddy water.

  She looked down the narrow country lane to see nothing. The car’s growling menace diminished in the distance. All was silent. She got up and stumbled away in the opposite direction, trying to remember who or where she was. What was her name? She knew nothing.

  Chapter 2

  SHE STAGGERED ALONG the deserted lane, pocked with large, muddy puddles. Her wraith-like legs struggled to carry her. Every step brought a wince of pain.

  She mumbled incoherently, “Not dead … not dead. Am I dead? Dead! Dead!”

  Her wild eyes continually glanced from side to side, knowing she was in mortal danger, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember the source of the terror. Every sound from the hedgerows caused her to freeze, rigid as a fox captured by headlights. The rustling of foraging animals scratched at her brain forcing her to scurry away as fast as her trembling legs would allow. She had to get away from Him, but who was he?

  “Am I dead? Am I dead? Am I dead?” she muttered with relentless monotony, for she had to be dead – she had no name. She existed in the realm of oblivion and could recall nothing. Nothing but abject terror created by a cacophony of sounds, so unfamiliar, so alien.

  Screams of death filled her head to bursting. Flashing images of blood dripping from full red lips tormented her. The tip of a sword caused to her to flinch. She put her hands to her face and cried as His scream echoed through her mind – Delicate Rose. Instinct told her this was not her real name, but she knew no othe
r. She clung to Delicate Rose and forced her mind to accept it as her name. She must be alive, as death had no name but oblivion.

  Shuffling along on bare feet, torn and bleeding, she heard the pitiful squeal of an animal in its death throes, followed by a rustling in the bushes alongside the lane. She stood rooted to the ground and nervously looked to the source of the noise. Her lungs stopped their intake of air as her eyes closed in anticipation of Him dragging her into his black car of death. He would surely drain her of every last drop of her precious blood. How did she know his intentions?

  With eyes closed, her keen senses perceived a fox snatching the last breath from a rabbit. She opened her eyes to see the fox, a limp, bloody rabbit in its jaws. It stopped to stare at her. For a brief moment she became the fox. She sensed its feral needs, so pure, so animalistic and as ancient as time itself. The fox gave a yelp and vanished through the dense bushes. There was something special about the fox, but that too remained hidden behind her wall of fear.

  Trembling, she cocked her head to one side, and for a split second her inner voice comforted her. A dark lullaby of sweet torment filled her mind with music plucked from the heart strings of fallen angels. The sigh of raven’s wings fluttered across the obsidian depths of her soul, caressing and nurturing her to an intense shudder of release from her terrors.

  The clatter of a pheasant’s wings returned her to the moment.

  “Eternal … eternal … eternal,” the woman chanted, staggering on towards an unknown fate. As hard as she tried, she remained unable to remember who she was. It was no use – her fevered mind, filled with grisly images, drove her to keep going at all costs. What was the source of her torment? Him! But she could not attach a face to his evil. And why does he want her? Her thoughts fragmented, frustrating her attempts at reason.