The Bathory Curse

by Renee Lake

  Renata and Marina had been offered and accepted immortality and were a permanent part of her entourage, they had both become invaluable members of her staff and family. Especially Renata, as Costica’s actions were akin to a modern day stalker.

  She had spent the last 182 years between Scotland, Ireland and England roaming and learning. She had been to see Celtic leaders, and Witch High Priestess, even the Druids to gain curse breaking information. None of it had worked. She had helped the Jacobite invasion of Scotland fail in 1702; she and Sabine even participated in the Scotland Malt Riots of 1725. She spent several years in Ireland learning Gaelic and then in 1800 was there for the United Irish Uprising.

  She enjoyed England best, but got easily tired of their prim and proper ways. Her current home was in London and she had grown bored. While she was in the Underworld, Stasi and her household were packing up and heading for a seaside village where she had bought a little villa. She was craving peace and quiet. London, for all its marvels, was smelly, loud and full of busy people.

  She stood against the wall watching as Klara and Zsofia walked by. Bendis told her they spent most of their time together. Klara had been a blackmailer, but she had still died of old age, but alone and locked away. She looked like she had the last time Nea saw her, in her forties, still healthy and pretty in her own way. She took care of Zsofia who spent her afterlife mourning the loss of her daughter Borbala. Even though now she could see her whenever she wanted they spent no time together. Zsofia was forever in a depression, made deeper with the knowledge that her son and husband were not in the afterlife with her and Borbala had almost no memories of her.

  Zsofia was weak, pale with lines crisscrossing her wrists that forever oozed with blood. There was a sword wound that wouldn’t heal in her gut from Costica. Neither woman would speak to anyone but each other, though sometimes they went down into the cellar to try and make sense of Elizabeth’s ramblings.

  Elizabeth’s daughter Anna, was normally found downstairs laughing and drinking with her grandmother, high as a kite. When they had first arrived Nea had been appalled, seeing her chummy with her namesake had been like a punch in the gut. She knew Anna had become an alcoholic before she was thirty and died of liver failure. The alcoholism had caused her to be neglectful and both her infant sons had died as a result. She was very thin with stringy hair, a bulbous nose and skin as yellow as the sun. Her grandmother had taught her all about the vices to be had in the future and so little Anna was an afterlife drug addict.

  “Do you hear that?” Bendis asked.

  “The praying?” Nea nodded, they could hear fervent and desperate prayers from a room down the hall. The door never opened and the occupant never came out. Barbola was in there. She had grown up well in the convent; she had married and become a wife and mother, to the outside world a prominent figure in society. However, under it all Borbala had been a religious zealot. She had punished her children with beatings and ice baths, given women up as witches for the slightest indiscretion and used religion like a crutch. Now she stayed in her room, in a religious fervor, convinced she was in hell and the other women demons. She had attacked several of them; she stabbed Catharine in the eye with a crucifix before boarding herself up in her room.

  “I thought being with the church would save her. It looks like it damned her as much as the rest,” Nea sighed.

  “Of course, it’s what the curse does; it twists the good in them and makes them act out every deep dark thought.” Bendis closed her eyes, the Goddess appeared tired and she wasn’t even the crone that day.

  “Where is Katalin?” Nea asked, glancing around the hall, they had checked the bedrooms, they were all currently empty.

  “Did you check her closet?”

  “Oh Goddess…” Nea darted to the girl’s room and went over to the closet, softly and carefully she opened it. Inside Katalin was hanging, neck snapped, limp like a doll, it smelled of feces and urine and her eyes were bulging out. Katalin had been hung at the age of 30 after they found out she had killed three husbands. She was pretty normal compared to some of the other women she lived with, but every day at the same time she was compelled to hang herself and relive her death. Bendis told Nea about it, but she hadn’t seen it yet. Nea covered her mouth with her hand, gagging while Bendis pulled her from the room.

  “How does she get down from there?” Nea asked after catching her breath.

  “Anna will be up here soon and cut her down, in a few hours she will revive like nothing happened.”

  “Why Anna?”

  “Even here they are close as they were alive.”

  “Wait, where is Orsolya?” Nea had not even thought about her, she had died at 20 and long before much of the other drama had gone down.

  “She spends her days with Gryzelda. They both seem to find comfort in the dirt and the plants.”

  “When did you start letting them go outside?”

  “When Orsolya died I extended their confinement to a yard and green house.” Bendis said. Nea glanced out, behind the house was a seven foot stone wall that stretched about two acres, there was a small green house, a pond and a table and chairs as well as abundant plant life;.

  Nea could see two figures outside talking. Orsolya looked like she always had a young plumper version of her mother, she sat at a crooked angle, and when she stood up she walked a little funny. Nea watched as Gryzelda handed her a cane. Gryzelda was thin, with sunken cheeks, her skin was red and raw, her hair matted, lips parched and peeling. She was as she had been when Nea had found her, exposed to the elements.

  “They garden together; Gryzelda is obsessive to the point of madness. Orsolya hadn’t really been affected by the curse, aside from the incident with her horse, so she spends most of her time in pain and confused.” Bendis voice was slightly choked up; it made Nea remember that somehow Bendis had a personal stake in all this.

  “Do they ever go see Lizzy?” Nea asked, speaking of Anna, Orsolya and Katalin.

  “No, they blame her for most of this. Besides, all that comes from Elizabeth is the ramblings of a mad woman, nonsense. What does come out coherently is so horrible the other women are offended.”

  “That says a lot.”

  “Yes, it does. Come, you should see your mother now.” Bendis led her up the stairs and reminded her of the rule not to speak to Mariska. Nea went inside.

  As always Jenica was happy and sad to see her daughter. Mariska, used to Nea’s presence, jumped and danced around clapping her hands.

  “Nothing?” Jenica handed her daughter some chamomile tea.

  “Nothing; everything I try fails.” Nea leaned back against the sofa, the warmth from the tea cup seeping into her hands.

  “A granddaughter who is not a granddaughter! Alive who isn’t alive! She is the key and she comes!” Mariska sang out, coming to sit near Nea’s feet.

  “You think she means Stasi?” Jenica asked quietly, not wanting to upset Mariska.

  “It’s all I have been able to figure out, Stasi’s child would be a granddaughter but not really…the problem is I don’t think a Strigoi can get pregnant, not without some serious magic.”

  “Though if she did would the child be alive but not?” Jenica pondered.

  “Yes, I think so…Stasi has taken over that part of the riddle because it has to do with her. Now that she is Strigoi the counter curse no longer effects her.”

  “What about the other half?”

  “I am still no closer at finding who placed the curse than I was 50 years ago.”

  “Have you considered the worst?” Jenica’s voice lowered to a whisper as Mariska grabbed her doll and went to play near the window.

  “That Bendis cast the curse? Yes, but why would she? Why spend the rest of her existence trying to break it? How would we fix a curse a Goddess cast?”

  “Flowers of golden blood spilled. Where the deer lost its life by a God’s son.” Mariska said, looking up from her doll clear eyed.

  “What was that darling?” Jen
ica asked, warily.

  “Shouldn’t speak of God killing, shouldn’t mess with the Gods at all. But flowers of golden blood spilled will do it for you.” She blinked a few times and went back to her toys.

  “Another enigma.” Nea felt resigned.

  “A clue, take it back with you and see what you can find.” Jenica suggested. “Now sit and gossip while we drink tea, relax with me.”

  Nea spent another hour of so with her mother before heading back to the world trying to decipher how she was to find a place where a God’s son killed a deer and left flowers where golden blood spilled.

  When she got home she saw that there was still a flurry of packing and rushing around being done, the manor in London wasn’t large, but like anything it was a daunting task to move a whole household. Something that Nea made her staff do every ten to twenty years.

  “Mihail is here to see you.” Marina said, coming around the corner holding a box. She still no different physically then when she had first arrived; 35 years old, tall and thin, she had chosen to keep the gray in her black hair, which lay in a long braid to her hips. She was still allowed to go to her own era for vacation, but not cross her own time line. She always came back singing the most ridiculous songs and with new weird clothing she could only wear around the house.

  “Thanks, anything else come while I was away?” Nea asked, a dark cloud seemed to pass over Marina’s features.

  “Talk to Renata.” Was all she would say as she walked away.

  Renata had an office near the library; Nea knocked at the door and went in.

  “Marina told me you needed to speak to me?”

  “Not really, just to tell you I disposed of a mangled cat while you were gone. It had a bow and a rather sweet card attached.” Renata didn’t even emerge from the book she was poring over. She was an overweight woman in her late twenties with long curling black hair she always wore in a bun, peach colored skin covered in freckles and warm brown eyes.

  “Well, that’s interesting, it’s been about five or ten years since that happened, I thought Costica had died or found someone else to obsess over.” Nea came further into the room.

  “He probably has a new woman he is stalking, but that doesn’t mean he has forgotten about you. He hasn’t sent a gift or note here in a while, but he still managed to kill two male Strigoi in the past ten years.” Renata finally looked up at her through golden spectacles, combined with the traditional black and grey embroidered linen dress, she was dressed quite matronly.

  “I know, Afrin and Afina have been in hiding for a century, Antal moved to the New World to escape him, Erdely is dead and Kato and Zamfira are in constant protective mode over Ion. Ruxandra has attached herself to Sabine’s side and when she tires of that Mihail introduced her to her grandfather and apparently they get on well. Only Imre remains truly faithful, which is strange.” Nea sat down at a chair next to one of Renata’s many book shelves. She had a handful of other Strigoi but they were all women and spaced sporadically around Europe.

  “They are all faithful, you see them each once a year,” Renata commented.

  “Yes, they come disguised, stay long enough for me to feed and run out of here like the hounds of hell are after them.”

  “Do you blame them? They are powerful beings and in more than 200 years something has hunted them down. This isn’t what they signed up for when they became Strigoi.” Renata was always blunt.

  “No, I guess not. Have you any idea where to find Costica? Sabine and I want to hunt again.”

  “He will find you for some sort of final showdown, hunting him is pointless.” That was the end of the discussion.

  Nea left and went to find Mihail and Stasi. She embraced her son as soon as she saw him across the room. He held on tightly, having missed his mother.

  “This place is different than the last place,” he said, motioning to the rich indulgence of the manor house.

  “It came like this, I didn’t decorate it,” Nea laughed, “it has suited its purpose.”

  “When I got your letter about moving, I knew I should come at once.” Mihail said. Stasi had slid up behind him and put an arm around his waist. Nea frowned at this but said nothing.

  “Why what’s happened?”

  “Father has hired a solicitor; he has aims to move to England.”

  “I can’t see where that should be a problem. Transylvania hasn’t had need of his protection in years, he and those harpies he calls brides are probably bored.” Nea waved a hand, this wasn’t her problem.

  “I think it is. He has something planned, the solicitor already arrived and things didn’t go well while I was there…The man was too paranoid and father too sadistic. I don’t think father plans on letting him survive the trip. He wants something here in England, he’s been very mysterious,” Mihail warned.

  “Where is he going?”

  “Purfleet, by way of Whitby. He should have been here yesterday.”

  “Mama, that’s where we are headed!” Stasi exclaimed.

  “Again, not surprising, but he can’t bring those women with him. They will eat the entire town in one tantrum. Why didn’t you come to me with this sooner?” Nea frowned, walking over to a cart and pouring herself a brandy.

  “I was with those harpies as you call them, they refused to leave their home and father asked me to stay with them for the first week after he left. It’s a good thing I did too.”

  “Well, at least he had sense not to force them to come. He should have destroyed them ages ago, Lily causes chaos everywhere, Siobhan spends money like water and I know Marisol starves herself in rebellion.” Nea was trying to be lighthearted but she had a bad feeling about the whole situation.

  “Stasi, you and Mihail will stay here. I think I shall go to Whitby by myself.”

  “I don’t think that’s smart, you’ll need someone with you,” Mihail argued.

  “True. I shall ask Sabine to come and live with me for a time and leave Ruxandra here with you for protection,” she said. Mihail started to argue. “Your father protects you from Costica when you live with him; let me at least do as much.” She kissed her son’s cheek and left to change the plans and create new ones.

  “Oh, Mihail! That means it will be just us for a while! I know you want to go with Mama, but think about it,” Stasi exclaimed, throwing her arms around Mihail and kissing his lips, eyes so blue, sparkling like crystal.

  “Ruxandra will be here.” Mihail knew fighting with her was no good.

  “She doesn’t care what we do; Ruxandra is the most private person I know.” Stasi took his hand and drew him to sit down next to her on the floor near the fire place. She snuggled up against him.

  “It might be nice to be able to be just us for a while.” Mihail stroked her arm; pulling her closer to him he kissed the base of her neck. Mihail and Stasi had been in love for 300 years or more, they were keeping it a secret, worried Bendis would punish them. Normally it wouldn’t be frowned upon but the Goddess had made it very clear many years she would be against their relationship.

  “It will be, you won’t have to sneak into my bed at dawn and we can do all kinds of couple things we don’t get to. Go to the theatre, hold hands…”

  “We could hunt together; we never get to do that,” Mihail commented, thinking about how much he desired her right after she had fed off emotions.

  “I know, mainly because then I wind up on my back for the next two days,” Stasi teased, tickling him.

  “Like it doesn’t affect you too.” Mihail tried to act offended, but it just increased her torture of him.

  Stasi got serious after a moment, “I feel bad hiding us….I don’t think Mama would mind.”

  Mihail held her closer, he knew she was worried; they just didn’t want to get their mother in trouble. What if Bendis took out her anger on mother instead of them?

  “I agree Mom wouldn’t care, but what if Bendis punished her for our choice…or punished us?”

  “She wouldn’t dare, I make su
ch a good Strigoi and Mama is the best Strega…Wait… Is that my darkness, I got out of being cursed but now I am too good of a Strigoi? Maybe that’s really why Bendis forbade our relationship. What if I turn and then mama has to kill me. I’ve seen her and Sabine hunt, and it’s not pretty.” Stasi worried her bottom lip; Mihail bent down and pressed a kiss, halting the pressure of her teeth against the soft flesh.

  “You are a good Strigoi, you feed well and with pleasure to make mom stronger and you do what she tells you when balance is needed, whether that’s killing or something mundane.”

  “Maybe I like it too much, maybe-”

  “Let’s get married.” Mihail cut her off and watched as she cast her eyes downward and bit her lip again, but not before he saw the surprise in her face as her words halted in her throat.

  “I don’t think marriage is a good idea Mihail.”

  “But trying to have a baby is?” he asked. Ever since his mother had shared the mystery about a granddaughter who isn’t a granddaughter Stasi had been obsessed with trying to get pregnant. Though she knew that being a Strigoi meant she could not give birth she had tried everything to make it happen anyway; spells, herbs, rituals…everything.

  “That’s different, I am trying to help my family, what would marriage do?”

  “Make it more difficult for Bendis or anyone else to separate us. Call me old-fashioned but I’d like us to be married before having a child, even a theoretical child.” He was frowning now. She leaned up and kissed his chin.

  “What if you get bored with me…a divorce would be really difficult with the fact we are immortal Strigoi,” she laughed.

  “I could never get bored with you Stasi. I haven’t in 300 years.”