by Renee Lake
A true friend, Sabine got her so drunk she didn’t remember who Vlad even was. She slept with another man for the first time in her life and in the morning she had a panic attack over the possibility of being pregnant and following in her family’s dark footsteps.
“Lesson 35; Stregas cannot get pregnant, unless the Goddess wills it.” Sabine told her, holding her hair while she threw up. This statement was followed by a reminder of Lesson 20, Stregas were not affected by curses (or whatever) put on them when they were mortal.
Their friendship worked both ways. Several times Nea housed Sabine’s female lovers, hiding them, so they wouldn’t be persecuted by family or so called friends. Watching Sabine with her lovers Nea soon got over her aversion and realized that her faith had been wrong to oppress those who loved differently.
“Why don’t you stop until it’s socially acceptable? You always get caught.” Nea said while watching Sabine pack up the newest consort and moving out her things. They never lasted more than six months and then Sabine relocated them, new life, new identity and enough money to make up for whatever they had lost.
“I love women and men equally, why should I be forced to choose? Remember Lesson 18, Stregas do what we want, but we always clean up our messes and take care of what is ours.”
Sabine also got bored easily. She had several houses Bendis had given her, but was never content long, preferring to travel and explore. She always brought Nea the best presents.
After a trip she would relax at Nea’s house, eating, drinking and stupping with whomever she chose and putting kinks into Nea’s normal routine, but Nea liked it. Sabine told her it was all about Lesson 6; “we are immortal, learn to have fun.”
Sabine was staying with her the night of Mihail’s 25th birthday. Nea woke with a horrible feeling, it was time, time to reveal herself to her favorite son and ask him to join her. She had decided Bendis was right, her son deserved power and a long life. She knew things had been difficult since she had “died.” It was time to amend that.
Dressing quickly she went down stairs and was not surprised that one of her Strigoi was waiting in the foyer. It hadn’t taken her very long to figure out why Bendis required a Strigoi every five years, those turned into Strigoi often became power hungry and went bad, well worse than they should have gone.
When that happened they became the evil killers of legend and it was a Strega’s duty to hunt and destroy rogue Strigoi, before the humans did. Sometimes humans got a hold of a rogue Strigoi and myths were created. Bendis didn’t care for that. Nea had learned a lot about Strigoi; most of the same powers of the Strega who created them, except they could only take solid form at night
She had made four Strigoi since she had been turned and only two remained alive. Humans killed one and Sabine and she hunted down the second. “Antal, it is good to see you, how do you fare?” She asked, coming to stand before him. Unlike Sabine who chose her Strigoi by their physical attributes, Nea chose them for their background and education. Antal had been noble born, she saved him after an almost fatal deer hunt.
“Mistress, a pleasure as always, and well.” Antal most often lurked in the woods and the libraries of religious organizations, preferring to be the “devil on the shoulder” of those he came in contact with and feeding on their indecision.
“Not going to make me kill you this month?” Nea teased him. His brown eyes crinkled in good humor. Antal was a brutish guy, but sweet and soft spoken..
“Not this month, Mistress.” His smile was brighter than Nea had ever seen it before.
Sabine sauntered out of the library a content expression on her face, following her was Kinga, one of her Strigoi, a beautiful and rather simple peasant girl who had been raped and left for dead, she fed off anger.
“Ah, travelling with Kinga right now?” Nea couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her, Kinga looked like a fantasy come true, blonde over blue and curvy.
“She makes me laugh.” Antal said.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” Nea bantered.
“Stop the chit chat, feed and then they have news, do you not?” Sabine narrowed her eyes.
Antal lifted a hand, perfectly cleaned. Nea took one of his fingers into her mouth and began to suck, he drew in a breath, eyes darkening. The emotions he housed for her tasted dark and decadent, they filled her to the brim with power, a heady, heavy thing. When she was done and withdrew, wiping her mouth, she sat in one of the large chairs in the sitting room, everyone following her.
“You fed well since last I saw you.” It was a compliment.
“With only two of us I need to, you must make more,” Antal chastised her.
“I know, perhaps later this evening, now what did you and Kinga want to tell us?”
“There are stirrings in the dark, my ladies,” Kinga whispered.
“There is a creature that has taken up residence in some of the old abandoned castles, it is said he feeds on the blood of the living.” Antal told them.
“A vampyre?” Sabine gasped, “Impossible. Bendis would not allow it in her territory.”
“It gets worse,” Antal’s eyes held forgiveness, “the rumors say it is Vlad Dracul the Impaler.”
“No, that’s not possible, they took his head. Vlad would never damn his soul like that.” Nea sat back, the breath having gone out of her.
“It is a rumor they beheaded him, like some of the other viscous gossip spread about him. Are you sure he wouldn’t make a deal, for immortality?” Sabine asked tenderly.
“If he thought it would have saved his people, but only in dire need.” Nea closed her eyes for a moment, bringing up Vlad’s handsome and dark image. She had loved him with a passion. She had seen him grieve her death and knew the feelings had been mutual; she would always mourn their loss time together. She would always wonder what might have been. This was something she could not dwell on, however.
“Well, keep your eyes and ears open and tell me if you hear anything else.” Nea dismissed them and the two Strigoi left, quickly.
“This speaks of trouble,” Sabine whispered.
“It is only rumors, rumors in the dark.” Nea leaned back and stared at the shadowy ceiling.
“We’re not allowed to consort with vampyres Nea.” Sabine warned.
“I have never heard that rule.” Nea turned to her friend, curious.
“I been a Strega time out o’ mind, Hecate, she has some harsh rules…Lesson 29, we stick to humans and our own kin and kind. If Vlad’s a vampyre, he is forbidden fruit now.” Sabine stood up, in the evenings she liked to play the violin and then wander to the nearest, what she called, pub, for food, drink and company.
“I wasn’t thinking of searching for him, don’t worry. Tonight my sight is on my son.” The longing in Nea’s voice was plain.
“It’s time? Do you want me to come with you?” Sabine would forgo her past-times to help her best friend.
“No, this is something I have to do alone.”
“If you insist. Good luck and be careful. Those damn Turks and Russians start fights everywhere nowadays.” Sabine left.
Nea went back upstairs and pulled on a black fur lined robe and thick boots, it was winter and there was snow on the ground. She braided ribbons into her black hair, as was custom and then covered her face with a sheer veil, looking like a beautiful, yet proper married woman. She stood outside, listening to the sounds of the night, her breath forming white clouds. She thought about her sons, still alive and in Wallachia. Mihail lived with Mihnea and his wife Smaranda…Mihnea was 22; she knew they had a son. Mihail, however, had never married or reproduced.
With her thoughts she was whisked away on the wind, appearing more than a day’s travel from where she made her own home. Her boys lived, not in a castle, but a large estate. She knew Mihnea was trying to fill his father’s shoes, as Voivode of Wallachia, unsuccessfully. By right Mihail should have been, Nea never understood why Vlad had ignored their eldest son. She thought it had something to do w
ith his eyes and that he had been born with the caul over his face.
Nea entered the house silently, passing through without notice. She stopped, hearing voices from a nearby room.
“Mihnea you must take care of your brother, the people will never respect you while he lives in our home.” A harsh female voice said.
“Smaranda I will not kill my own brother, besides most do not even know he still lives, my father tried to tell people he died with our mother that night.”
“He goes to town, and people come here, I have heard rumors. There was a reason your father hid him. Don’t let sentiment be your downfall.” Smaranda whispered, Nea felt a burning hatred well inside her, why had Mihnea married such a shrew?
“Will it appease you for me to send him away?” Mihnea sounded weary.
“I will not have a child brought up in this house with him, he is unnatural.”
“I can’t kill him Smaranda, I can’t. He is all I have left of my mother.”
“Your mother killed herself rather than deal with him.” Smaranda spat back, Nea almost burst in and killed her daughter-in-law with those words. There was a resounding smack and a hushed cry.
“You will not talk about my mother, my uncle pushed her, it is not her fault my father could find no proof.” Mihnea was angry.
“Fine, but at least be a man, do not banish him, kill him, your father would have.” Smaranda’s tone was more subdued.
“If it will make you happy.”
Nea had heard enough, hurrying she dashed up the stairs to find Mihail, she had to get him out of that house, tonight. His door was locked, which was smart, she concentrated and the lock gave. The room was rather barren of everything but a large oil painting of her. Nea felt her breath catch in her throat, it was a painting Vlad had commissioned right after their wedding.
She shivered, the window was open and the room was almost unbearably cold. Her son slept soundly, huddled under furs and blankets on a small bed in the corner of the room. She walked across the room and shut the window, what was he thinking? Cold of that nature could lead to illness and death!
A candle burned on the table next to him, large and tall, she could smell the tallow. Pushing back her veil she looked at her son for the first time in years. His skin was pale, like hers, he had her blue-black hair, but his father’s features. She knew he would have one eye blue like hers and one almost black, like his father.
“Mihail, you must wake up.” She said. He murmured in his sleep, moved, but did not wake.
“Mihail, awaken now!” This time she was a bit louder, he seemed to rouse a little bit, and peered at her, not quite seeing her.
“Smaranda, I thought I told you, I won’t sleep with my brother’s wife, go away.” He told her, preparing to go back to sleep.
“As glad as I am to hear that, not quite the greeting I had hoped for.” Nea raised her eyebrows, planting her hands on her hips.
Mihail jerked up in bed, hand reaching for something under his pillow at the thought of an intruder. Eyes wide he recognized the figure standing before him. His gaze darted to the portrait of his mother and then back to the apparition before him.
“Mother?” He stood, shakily, and then shook his head, “Be gone spirit, how dare you take such a form!”
“Mihail, lower your voice. Do you want the whole house in here? I do not.” Nea took a step forward and instantly met the tip of a large sword.
“You cannot be my mother; she was thrown from a window when I was five.” Mihail held the sword sturdy, but his voice quaked.
“You have grown into such a handsome young man.” Nea sighed, his dark hair was in the style of the day, and his beard was close to his face and trimmed neatly. He was much taller than she and in good physical shape.
“And you must be the devil.” He swore.
“Close, enough. Mihail I am your mother. The Goddess Bendis saved me that night, I am now a Strega.” Nea admitted, saddened when he made the sign of the cross. She wasn’t surprised though; she had fought her new life by brandishing her Christian beliefs like a torch, one that eventually fizzled out.
“No, I can’t believe it, had my mother lived she would have come back for me, not left me with my father.” His words denied the truth, but his eyes were struggling.
“I was not allowed to come for you until now Mihail. I am sorry for that; I missed you, you and Mihnea.” Tears threatened in Nea’s eyes.
“Prove to me you are she.” Mihail wanted to believe her; desperately, the years without her had been so difficult. He had stopped believing in a God years before and stopped himself when he went to make the sign of the cross a second time. This was either a miracle or a temptation derived to steal what was left of his soul.
“When you were four I got sick and you made cook teach you to make soup and tea to bring me, she and I had to swear secret oaths to you not to say a word, you were so afraid if your father found out he would be mad. You told me ‘mama, boys don’t cook.’” There was a hitch in Nea’s voice as she recited the tale.
Silence filled the bed chamber as Mihail looked at his mother. Dropping the sword he moved closer to her, peering at her. It could still be some sort of trap, by the devil himself from what Mihail had seen of life.
“You have not aged a day since I saw you last.”
“I know, and I have many things to tell you and explain, but it has to wait, you are in danger here and must come with me.” Nea held out a hand. Feeling like a small child again Mihail took it and embraced his mother, eyes burning but refusing to cry. She smelled the same, like a mixture of dog rose and Transylvania sage. He had often watched her make her own soaps and perfumes. The feel of her skin and smell of her fragrance quelled any doubts in his mind. If this was an illusion or some jade trickery then please, bring it on, it was worth it.
“I have missed you Mihail, I love you.” Nea told him, holding him close, he smelled like sage.
“Did you keep my oil recipes?” Nea teased gently, feeling him nod into her shoulder.
“I love you too.” he murmured against her cloak, praying this was real and not a dream.
“Come, we haven’t much time, pack your things.” She loathed pulling away from him.
“Why do I have to leave? Is Mihnea coming?” Mihail hated that he sounded like a little boy.
“No, Mihnea is not coming,” his mother was sad, “I love your brother, but he has a life here now, a wife and from what I heard they want more children.”
“Smaranda is horrible.” Mihail commented.
“Yes, horrible enough that she wants Mihnea to kill you, if you leave then he won’t have to and she will be happy.” Nea explained. Mihail wasn’t surprised, Smaranda had it out for him the moment he had turned her down for sex.
“I don’t own much though.” Mihail went and began to gather his things into a trunk at the foot of his bed.
“You don’t need clothes, I will provide for you.” Nea said.
“I don’t want to have to depend on you for everything, mother.” Mihail frowned, feeling useless.
“How have you been providing for yourself here? Do you not live off the family money?” Nea asked.
“Father left everything to Mihnea, it wasn’t a lot. I sell paintings on the side. Father and Mihnea hate my art but I make enough money so I don’t have to take anything from Mihnea.”
“I am so sorry life has been difficult since I went away. I am proud you are painting. My father painted, did you know that?” Nea helped him pack his trunk.
“I didn’t, but I am happy to hear it.” It was so odd for him to be having this conversation with her, like no time had passed.
“You will have plenty to do at my home, there is much to discuss but not now, you will earn your keep.” Nea gave him a piercing stare, registering some of his words.
“Your father left Mihnea almost nothing? How is that possible? The Draculs are a wealthy family!”
“He purchased Bran Castle shortly before his disappearance,” Mihail
said. He was removing her painting from the wall, with loving hands. Nea didn’t comment out loud how odd it was Vlad would want a castle where he had been held prisoner.
“Disappeared, your father died,” Nea said quietly, wondering if Mihail did not know.
“That is what Mihnea and I were told. We didn’t see him buried, but if he really is dead then why do people say they see him at Bran Castle, Snagov Monastery and Poenari Castle? Last year when the Turks raided from Bulgaria, Wallachia began to rally troops, Mihnea was prepared to go to battle, but we didn’t need to,” Mihail was speaking softly.
“I heard that, I was prepared to join in battle.” Nea grinned at the expression on her son’s face.
“You, in battle?”
“It’s a long story.”
“So you keep telling me. Nevertheless, the invaders never made it past Comana Monastery, they were slaughtered in the night and impaled in the way father favored.” Mihail looked at his mother, confused as to why she didn’t seem more surprised.
“I was afraid of this; I, too, have heard disturbing rumors about your father. I hope he hasn’t done something we will all regret.” Nea lowered her head and gave a silent prayer to Bendis that her family be safe.
“They are calling Mihnea, Cel Rau.” Mihail hefted his chest and they left his room, quiet and careful. Cel Rau meant the Wrongdoer.
“I know. Is he trying to outdo his father’s reputation?” Nea wondered out loud.
“Sometimes I think so.” Mihail sighed.
“Well, now you will be one less thing for him to worry about.” Taking his hand Nea used her magic to transport them to her castle.
It took a moment for Mihail to regain his balance as he tried to take in his new surroundings. Her easy use of such magic almost made him reconsider coming with her.
She took him inside and showed him his new home while explaining what she was and what she did for Bendis.
“But you’re not evil?” He asked after she was done. He glanced out the windows at the snow and the forest, this might be too good to be true.
“No, not really.” She placed an arm around her son and put her head on his shoulder.