The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels

by Travis Luedke

  Count Lucien’s rage at his Petite Fleur’s escape screamed around the confines of the Mercedes. He vented his anger on the utterly stupid Jacques for not finding his true love. He punched Jacques’ arm, causing the car to swerve violently. It was obvious she could not have gone far in this foul weather on bare feet.

  “Where are you, my Delicate Rose?”

  Claudette lit a cigarette. “Perhaps she doubled back and is at the chateau waiting for help?”

  Lucien turned to Claudette and almost slapped her. But the thought boiled over in his deranged mind, for it was a good idea. He hated her for beating him to that thought.

  Jacques sighed with annoyance, noticing the oil temperature was in the red. He tapped the gauge. The needle stayed in the red.

  Lucien glared at the gauge and kicked it. He gave an irritable sigh. “Back to the chateau ... now!”

  “Can’t turn around here, man ... too narrow.” Jacques flinched at the anger contorting Lucien’s face. He slowed down and used a crossroads to make the maneuver and headed back to Douvrey. Obviously Lucien’s mistress had not gone towards Paris. They drove through the rain, which diminished the closer they got to Douvrey.

  As the red glow of the sun seared away the dark of the night, a demonic scream of obsidian torment turned Lucien’s pale mask of hatred into a grotesque caricature of death. He glared from the passenger window of his car while it thrashed through the diminishing darkness like a Gothic hearse.

  The wipers angrily swished the torrential rain from the opaque windscreen like a rampant metronome ticking to nature’s eternal music. The only other evidence of the car’s occupants was the intermittent glow of a cigarette. A few minutes later the Mercedes turned into the driveway to the Moreau’s chateau.

  All three Sucklings exited the steaming car and entered via the dining room.

  A few minutes later Lucien exited the chateau with his vampires looking gloomy. He was in a foul mood, his Beautiful Rose had not returned. He gave Claudette a terrible grimace of hatred and vented his anger on her. “Where do you think she is now, you stupid bitch?”

  Claudette ignored Lucien. She giggled and pointed to the warm glow on the horizon. “The sun will be up soon, darling.”

  Jacques saw Lucien was about to boil over. “We’d better leave right now, my friend, before the flics come sniffing around.”

  Lucien screamed with anguish. “I’m not leaving without her!”

  Claudette giggled, “But we have to go, Lucien. I need a bath and fresh clothes.” She sniffed the pervading odor around Lucien. “So do you, darling.”

  Lucien clenched both fists so tight his nails cut into his flesh. The pain was exquisite and prevented him from killing Claudette right where she stood. He was desperate and forlorn and didn’t give a shit about the police. They were just as easy to kill as anyone else. He simmered down and blew out his cheeks. Lucien slumped into the front seat.

  “I’m not leaving without her.” Lucien kicked the dashboard. The needles of various gauges flickered.

  “We stick out like three black wolves in a flock of sheep,” Jacques said, giving Lucien a warning glance not to kick the car. He stroked the dashboard as if it were a cat.

  “Don’t state the fucking obvious.” Lucien had to think fast, but his hatred of all things women, and of her, prevented him from rational thought.

  “I want to go home, Lucien. I want to freshen up.” Claudette pouted.

  “No! We’re here and this is where we stay.” Lucien nodded to Jacques.

  Jacques started the engine and drove off at a sedate speed. He drove down the drive and onto the lane towards the rising sun and the village of Douvrey as indicated by Lucien.

  Lucien stamped his feet against the dashboard then curled up tightly like a little boy, thinking of his beloved mistress. He already missed her so much that not all the blood in the world could satisfy his craving for her. He was addicted to her blood. She was his laudanum and he needed a fix or he might surely die. With rising panic he thought of the full moon the next night, and that meant just one thing to Lucien – the eternal hour was at hand – the hour of her birth the following morning.

  Rays of sunlight cascaded through foliage to stab the windscreen with deadly accuracy. Lucien opened the glove compartment and snatched a jar of white foundation. He smeared his face, neck, ears and hands, before passing the jar to Claudette. He put his feet up on the dashboard and donned sunglasses.

  A powerful emotion that sent ribbons of ice cold down his spine caused Lucien to sit bolt upright. He heard the familiar raucous flapping of ravens’ wings. He looked left to see a five-bar gate and a barn in the distance.

  “Stop! Back up, Jacques!”

  Jacques slammed on the brakes and reversed to the gate.

  Lucien opened the passenger door. He screamed in pain. He snatched his black fedora from the floor well and rammed it onto his head. After fumbling his dark glasses across his face he pushed the gate open and waved Jacques into the field with a rough stone path leading to the barn. Lucien closed the gate and hopped back in.

  “The barn!”

  Jacques nodded with satisfaction and drove slowly along the rutted path. He stopped in front of the double barn doors hanging askew from rusted hinges.

  Lucien and Jacques exited the car and man-handled the barn doors.

  Jacques drove into the barn while Lucien pulled the doors shut. He switched off the engine and hopped out.

  Claudette slithered from the rear seat with a cigarette still smoldering in its holder. She looked around at the disgusting state of her temporary home. A shaft of sunlight sliced across her face. She hopped away from the offending beam with a screech.

  Lucien rushed up to her and snatched the cigarette from the holder. He stamped it to death, giving Claudette a warning look. He saw a stack of hay piled in one corner and nodded to Jacques. Both Sucklings made room in the hay for the car to fit.

  Jacques drove the car into the gap and hopped out. Both vampires heaped the straw all over the rear of the car until it was suitably camouflaged.

  Lucien stared at the remaining hay and smirked. He sniffed the air and raised his arms. “So this is where it all started ... who would have thought?” He opened the front passenger door and sat down.

  “Where what started?” Claudette asked. She waited for an answer and shrugged so what. More beams of sunlight squeezed through countless cracks and holes. “If you think I’m staying here then you’re completely mad.” Claudette opened the rear passenger door and slumped in a grumpy heap.

  Jacques covered as much of the rear doors as he could with hay and slumped into the driver’s seat.

  Lucien turned to Claudette. “Never call me mad! Never!” Lucien screamed his anger in Claudette’s oblivious face. He levered the seat to a more comfortable sleeping position, pulled his coat up to his face and closed his eyes. The Count replayed Lucien’s memories.

  ~~~~

  Lucien recalled those wild rumors from so many years ago – a vile vampire had been executed in a barn belonging to Jean Busson. His insane imagination showed him lurid scenes of a vampire couple mating like rutting dogs. The female vampire’s belly soon displayed the fruits of their union. Both vampire lovers fled Auxerre with an angry mob wielding pitchforks and shotguns. The male vampire turned and attacked the torch-wielding crowd. He was hacked to pieces. The female screamed for her true love and vanished into the dark woods.

  Busson the farmer found the female vampire buried under a mound of straw in the very barn now occupied by three more blood-suckers. She attacked Busson, trying to open him up with hideous fangs. Busson smacked her with a pitchfork and fled. He returned with Doctor Colbert and that festering busybody, Father Papineau.

  A violent storm, not of God’s making, turned the early morning sky black. The strange darkness enveloped Douvrey while the priest performed an exorcism on the female vampire. Doctor Colbert helped Delicate Rose spew forth from her mother’s womb onto a bed of straw. The date was th
e 6th June, 1906 and the time was precisely six in the morning, the full moon creeping towards the horizon. The mother vampire found her peace, having been allowed to bleed to death on the priest’s orders. The darkness that had cloaked the village evaporated with the morning’s sun.

  Papineau raised his sword of redemption to expunge this vile abomination, but could not as he stared into its black eyes. He lowered the blade in utter defeat. The baby’s screams were ear-shattering when rays of sun impaled it with a different kind of steel.

  Lucien’s shattered memories screamed down a long dark tunnel with a flock of ravens. Massive wooden barrels were stacked to the heavens like tall buildings. Lucien held the hand of his Little Fleur. He stared transfixed into her glorious orbs of molasses, trapped in their stickiness like a fly in treacle. Down the tunnel they walked – the tunnel that had been built during the Rebellion. He escorted her past vast presses and enormous vats, stopping at a panel in a wall. Lucien pulled a lever down. A secret door opened. Inside a massive storage room were many barrels ready for final storage at the chateau. Several barrels rested on a rail car.

  Lucien walked hand in hand with his Petite Fleur down the tunnel lit by bare light bulbs. He could tell she was not frightened of this dark place and that caused his chest to heave with breathless anticipation. The vast wine cellar of the chateau was a perfect home for a vampire. Lucien’s Rose saw a lever attached to a chain. She went to it.

  Lucien stopped her from touching the lever with a frantic hand. “Don’t pull that lever ... it will release a steel door, sealing us inside. The door can only be opened from the other side of the tunnel. This was the method used by my ancestors to escape the Rebels during the Revolution.”

  ~~~~

  And now, as if by some grand design, she had escaped Lucien. Was she hiding in that tunnel? He didn’t think so for it was on the other side of the chateau grounds near the winery.

  All went black as sleep sucked his memories from his mind and filled the empty vessel that was Lucien’s soul with death, torture, misery and blood.

  Chapter 22

  5th June

  ETERNAL WAS FROZEN in an icy hell inhabited by slithering demons. Darkness did not prevent the horrors crawling over her skin trying to feed, suck, drain her very soul. Pleasures were very few in Oblivion and one of them was demon slaying. She was born to kill and demons were her natural prey. One particular demon residing inside an orderly needed immediate attention. She probed its evil.

  Bonbon strolled down the sunlit corridor humming a pleasant tune. He carried a metal tray laden with cheese, sliced tomatoes, bread and a metal cup of water. He nodded to Nurse Collette.

  Eternal immediately sensed the demon’s desire to sodomize the nurse. To her surprise the matronly nurse grimaced at Bonbon while opening a door with a key attached by a chain to her uniform. She noted the time in her notebook – eight thirty and shuddered with disgust. Eternal had a kindred spirit in Nurse Collette.

  Bonbon smiled to the nurse and entered Eternal’s room.

  Eternal probed the orderly’s mind as it frowned at the darkened room. The festering maggot placed the tray on the cot, hissing with annoyance. With a lascivious grin, it tore the blanket from the window and leered down at its new piece of fresh meat. What a delectable chunk of rump steak. Good enough to devour! It risked a furtive touch of her hair, still damp from the shower. It quivered in anticipation of this fresh morsel giving her sweet meat to feed its perverse appetites.

  Delicate Rose dreamt of burning in hell fire with cruel flames blackening her pale skin. She screamed herself awake. Upon opening her eyes the disgusting sight of Bonbon’s scarred face leered at her with a suggestive pout to his lips. She scurried to the end of the cot closest to the door, knocking the tray to the tiled floor.

  The vile creature smirked in a disgusting way as he picked up the food, tray and metal cup. He spoke with a deep, rasping voice, massaging his bulging groin. “Eat! You must eat!”

  Delicate Rose shook her head no at the unpalatable offering. The orderly’s calloused hand gripped her head and used the other hand to shove a slice of stale bread into her face. The bread was mashed into her nose and mouth, forcing her to gag. She could not pull away. She could not breathe.

  Bonbon laughed using the palm of his hand to rub the bread across her squirming face.

  “You must eat what Bonbon gives you.” Bonbon winked and gripped the obvious erection in his cotton slacks. He blew her a kiss with drooling lips licked by the tip of his tongue.

  “Perhaps you eat this later, pale one,” Bonbon promised, leaving the room with a chuckle.

  As Delicate Rose wiped the bread from her tearful face, something deep in the recesses of her tortured mind nagged at her. She wanted sustenance of a different kind, a kind that gripped her darkest nightmares and turned them into such sweet dreams. But she couldn’t remember.

  She knew it was important, that time was running out, but time for what? Her dry tongue licked cracked lips offering no relief. Fear had parched her mouth, and yet looking down at the water spilled across the floor her thirst could not find enticement. She licked her lips, for something told her she needed another source of fluid, something sweet and vibrant – something eternal.

  That strange word Eternal whispered to her with its sweet rendering, comforting her fragile mind.

  “I am Eternal. I am Eternal. I am Eternal,” she said in a flat monotone voice.

  Delicate Rose mumbled these words over and over, staring at the pools of water on the floor. She frowned, having no idea what the words she had just spoken actually meant, but they calmed her frantic mind. The words soothed her tormented soul. She jolted in shock when the sun found her naked feet. Instinctively, she tucked them under her and squinted in pain at the searing cascade filling the room.

  The shock brought Eternal back to the surface. She spoke with such hypnotic tenderness. “Sleep! You must sleep.”

  Eternal felt exhaustion tugging at her with its relentless need. With eyes closed, she replaced the blanket across the window before curling up in the fetal position.

  She drifted into a deep slumber where Eternal soothed her bleeding soul, soaking her with sweet images of a young woman with long red hair offering her sweet poison to the Tribal Queen, Buddug at her encampment in North Wales.

  From that day forward, Boudicca, as she became known to her enemies in Rome, needed to paint her face with woad to prevent the sun’s rays from depriving her of her sworn duty. And as she drank the Eternal muse’s blood the desire to eradicate all Romans from her land was instilled within her.

  As directed by her muse, the queen allowed her enemy to attack her home in Wales while she led her vast army of Celtic warriors south across the borderland to destroy the first Roman settlement at Camulodunum. The victory was glorious, spurring Boudicca onwards to Londinium. Tens of thousands were massacred in the name of Boudicca’s muse, but without her muse who would not take such an arduous journey, the great queen grew weaker.

  Boudicca became feverish and deranged. She fell victim to her enemy, Suetonius at the Battle of Watling Street. The muse was captured and only the Gods saved her from oblivion at the hands of Suetonius. He saw her value to Rome and dragged her back in chains.

  But the Eternal muse had other plans. She was finally introduced to Emperor Nero, whose popularity had waned to the point that he ignored all attempts to save his reign. However, Nero soon discovered the delights of the eternal poison flowing through her veins, so much so that he was driven insane and ordered all Rome burned to the ground so he might raise her in his glorious image.

  Eternal muse had her revenge but at what cost? Nero was by now a demented lunatic traveling the streets singing to the crowds. She knew her time would soon be up and resorted to infecting the Emperor’s closest generals with her essence. A revolt ensued causing mass hysteria and panic.

  Eternal fled Rome with Nero and his trusted servants. A few weeks later, Nero was found with his throat torn out. Eter
nal escaped Rome and found solace with the Gallic Tribes.

  The past life-dream soon descended into darkness and chaos for Eternal was torn from her latest object of desire by the Black Count himself. He stood over her in his long black cloak caught by the wind. He changed into a monstrous black bat and whisked her away to a terrible place, hemmed in by damp stone where there was no escape. She withered away to skin and bone while he drank her eternal blood. All she could hope for was her true love’s desire to rescue her. Where was he? She probed.

  Chapter 23

  EDOUARD CLAVET CHECKED the time – eight-forty-five in the morning of June 5th. Hopefully driving his Renault 6CV towards Douvrey, he sighed knowing he would be late. He had a look of excitement – almost like a little boy peering into a sweet jar, imagining his fledgling career blossoming beyond his wildest dreams at the Douvrey Institute, possibly one of the most notable institutes for the insane outside of Paris. He could see himself signing his books on psychotherapy and handing them to eager students, perhaps even winning the Nobel Prize.

  Edouard snapped out of his pleasant daydream and looked at the map spread across his lap. He slowed down to put on his reading glasses and assumed he was on the right road, and driving in the right direction, but he should have arrived at the institute by now. No matter, it was a fine morning to be lost in such wonderful country. He removed his glasses and took deep gulps of fresh air, completely free of the pervading odors of Paris.

  “Mon Dieu!” the Priest exclaimed, momentarily startled by the close proximity of the car as Edouard pulled alongside. His bike wobbled precariously before he squeezed on the brakes, frantically letting out a leg to prop himself with.

  Edouard came to a stop and slowly reversed next to the shaken, but unharmed priest. He gave an apologetic smile through the open driver’s window. He crumpled the map in haste and tossed it onto the passenger seat. “Please forgive me, Father.”