Darker Edge of Desire

by Mitzi Szereto

  Standing up, Dragos turned his attention to the coffin. He wedged his palms beneath the lid, hoisting it open as if the stone weighed no more than cardboard. I could see in the light that it was empty. The interior looked surprisingly clean and was upholstered in a cushioned red silk that was the shade of freshly spilled blood. The fabric had been attached via a series of small fasteners drilled into the stone. I suspected the swanky decor had to be Dragos and Bela’s handiwork, since any original fabric would have worn down to dust by now, as would the occupant had he still been residing there.

  Suddenly the air in the crypt didn’t feel quite so cold as it had earlier, though that might have been a result of the heat of our aroused bodies rather than anything supernatural in our surroundings. I had no idea when he’d done it, but Dragos had unzipped his fly and his cock was thrusting out from his jeans, pointing high with youthful eagerness. This time it was I who fell to my knees.

  He tasted good, like a mixture of old wine and sage honey, as he pushed into my mouth, coming quickly and without a lot of fanfare. I liked boys who didn’t do the whole grunting and groaning thing. I found it distracting and crude; it always made me want to burst out laughing, as did their distorted expressions when they came. Dragos’s face remained dignified and beautiful as he emptied his pleasure down my throat, making me more conscious of my own expression and how I must have looked to him with his hard flesh stuffed into my mouth. I pivoted around to do the same to Bela, who tasted mostly of me, since he’d been inside me on the drive over. He also came quickly and I swallowed it just as I had with Dragos, experiencing no sense of revulsion like I always did with boys back home. I wanted to stay with them inside that little crypt forever.

  Dragos took my hand and assisted me up from the floor, kissing it in his usual courtly way. “You will join us in our bed please?” he asked formally, indicating the coffin, its upraised lid seeming to invite us inside.

  How could I refuse?

  Stripping off their clothing and shoes, they left everything in a heap on the floor and we three climbed into the coffin. After a clever arrangement of our bodies that consisted of Bela lying beneath me, Dragos lying on top of me facing down and me lying between them facing up, Dragos stretched an arm behind him to lower the lid until the last sliver of light had gone, leaving us in absolute blackness. Not so much as a thread’s width of light crept through the edges of the coffin lid. I wondered if we might suffocate, yet I felt neither afraid nor worried. I knew that I was where I was meant to be.

  Dragos and Bela took control of my body, kissing, stroking, probing. At times I could feel the presence of the wealthy landowner whom they had displaced. I was certain there were more than two pairs of hands on my body and more than two sighing voices in my ears. I could even feel an icy tongue licking the same places that Dragos and Bela had licked earlier—licking with a frantic and tragic desperation neither of them had ever likely experienced. Had I lost my mind from being shut inside a centuries-old stone coffin with young men whose surnames I didn’t even know? Maybe.

  Or maybe not.

  When I felt myself being penetrated front and back, the sensation of being stretched, then split in half truly did tease me with insanity—the insanity reaching fruition when something hard and cylindrical and as icy cold as death began to force its way into my mouth. I knew immediately what it was—and it didn’t belong to Dragos or Bela, whose own versions were occupied elsewhere. I tasted dried flowers and vinegar and I closed my lips around it in acceptance, feeling it begin to warm against my tongue. My insanity continued long into the night, our bodies crushing and grinding together…until the air in the coffin was no more, and we became one with the dead.

  MOONFALL

  Rose de Fer

  The frozen night was filled with menace. An owl hooted, its call eerie and desolate. Icicles hung from the skeletal trees like the bared fangs and talons of some fantastical creature. All at once the silence was shattered by the thundering of horses’ hooves on the cold ground as a carriage hurtled along the road. Overhanging branches clutched at the vehicle as it made its way through the forest, but nothing could impede its passage. The driver whipped the horses and they galloped on, drawing ever nearer to their destination.

  Black spires clawed at the sky as an imposing façade hove into view. The carriage rounded a turn and headed up a long and winding drive toward the dark stone manor house where a guard was waiting to unlock the heavy iron gate. Like the arms of a metal giant, the gate swung open, shrieking on its rusty hinges. A pale face peered out from within the carriage as it drove past the carved plaque on the gatepost: THORNCROFT ASYLUM FOR THE INCURABLY INSANE.

  When they reached the front door the driver reined the horses in. They stamped and snorted like captured dragons, their breath steaming. A tall gentleman stood in the shadows of the arched doorway. He gave a single nod and the coachman opened the door of the carriage. Two other men hastened to assist the occupant out.

  The young woman blinked in confusion, feeling as though she had just woken from a strange dream. She had only a vague memory of the journey, and it took her a moment to register where she was. She struggled at first, but the men were strong and she knew she had no hope of resisting their firm grip.

  “Come along, miss,” one of them said, not unkindly. “You’ll be quite safe inside.”

  Madeleine Chancery allowed herself to be lifted from the carriage and she puzzled at the strange sensation as her bare feet touched the snowy ground. Where were her shoes? A glance down at herself showed that her dress was in tatters. She caught her reflection in the gleaming shell of the carriage and gave a startled little cry. She looked a fright. Her hair fell in wild blonde tangles about her face, which was smeared with mud.

  “Mrs. Chancery.”

  The tall man descended the steps and Madeleine peered up at him. She knew him, of course. Dr. Charles Thorncroft. James’s brother. Panic leapt in her chest. Had he seen them together? Did he know of their trysts? Worse: had he told her husband?

  But instead of accusing her, he extended his hand as though she were alighting at the home of someone hosting a midnight ball. “Welcome, my dear,” he said. “You will be very comfortable here. Of that I can assure you.”

  Dazed, she offered her own hand without thinking and he took it, frowning slightly at the sight. It wasn’t just dirty; it was streaked with what looked like dried blood.

  She gasped and yanked it back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why am I here?” she asked at last.

  “We’ll talk inside,” said Dr. Thorncroft pleasantly, his deep voice booming in the stillness. “A warm fire. Perhaps a little brandy to take away the chill and calm your nerves?”

  Madeleine glanced warily at the men on either side of her. Running away would be utterly pointless and only serve to humiliate her further. She could never hope to escape and even if she did, she would surely freeze to death.

  “Very well,” she said, lifting her head proudly and trying to retain some dignity. “You can explain to me why Henry had me abducted in the night and brought to this—this place.”

  She followed Dr. Thorncroft inside, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. Her feet tingled against the mosaic tiles of the elegant entryway as he led her down a long corridor. Gaslight flickered along the oak-paneled walls, and from somewhere deep within the building came a scream. She froze, gazing with horror up into the darkness of the curved staircase.

  She had a very bad feeling about this place. And most especially this man.

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Dr. Thorncroft said darkly. “Not everyone here is as compliant as I know you will be.”

  He met her eyes for a long, uncomfortable moment before taking her arm and guiding her firmly away.

  Madeleine was startled at her body’s strange response to him as she allowed herself to be led to the room at the end of the corridor. He was as strikingly handsome as his brother and there was something in his authoritative tone that m
ade her body tingle in spite of her apprehension.

  Shadows leapt along the walls of the room he led her to, thrown by the blazing fire in the hearth. She sank to her knees before it and stretched out her hands, more for the opportunity to turn away from her host than for warmth. She sensed the doctor standing behind her, watching. Heat flooded her face. She felt horribly exposed in her tattered clothes and bare feet. But, strangely, the feeling of vulnerability wasn’t entirely disagreeable. She had no idea how she had come to be in such a state but her adventure must have been a pleasant one. Her sex pulsed, hot and wet, both with recent satisfaction and a craving for more. Had she been with James? She was distressed to find she couldn’t remember.

  After a moment she heard the clink of glass and she readied herself to face him again. She mustn’t let him see her fear or confusion. She must be calm. There was a rational explanation for all this and once they got to the bottom of it she could send for her things, dress herself and leave.

  “Here you are,” he said.

  He held out a glass of brandy, which she drank at once, grateful for the pleasant burn of the liquid and the courage she knew the alcohol would lend her. It was nice brandy, if surprisingly potent. Almost at once she felt a little dizzy, no doubt an effect of her nervousness. She swallowed the rest of the brandy and arranged her features into a smile. Then she turned to look up at Dr. Thorncroft.

  “It’s most kind of you,” she said in as simpering a voice as she could muster. “Now suppose you tell me what this is all about, and then I can be on my way.”

  Thorncroft returned her smile but there was no warmth in it. “Mrs. Chancery,” he said, measuring his words as though relishing their delivery, “you won’t be going anywhere.”

  She looked down at her empty glass as her vision began to blur. Then all was darkness.

  James Thorncroft was horrified to learn that Madeleine had been committed to his brother’s asylum. He had never seen her exhibit any sign of mental illness. In fact, their stolen moments together were proof that she was a woman who knew her own mind very well and was in full possession of her faculties.

  He pictured her slate-gray eyes, her sensual lips and flaxen hair, the tantalizing glimpse of creamy bosom allowed by her décolletage. But her charms did not end there; she was as clever as she was beautiful. And he had loved her since the day he’d first laid eyes on her, the day her husband had brought her to the zoo to see the animals James kept.

  They had locked gazes in the aviary, light-headed with desire. The shrieking of jungle birds faded to a pleasant hum in the background as they stared at each other like two wild creatures recognizing their perfect mate. Madeleine had slipped away that evening to see him, then again on subsequent evenings. Henry was oblivious, interested more in cards and horses than his beautiful, neglected wife. Still, the lovers had been careful. They had never been seen together except under the most innocent of circumstances. Had Henry nonetheless discovered the truth and had his wife locked up by way of revenge? The thought made James shudder.

  Dr. Thorncroft interrupted his thoughts.

  “A most intriguing case,” he said, his eyes glittering. “She’s a prize specimen. Quite the jewel in my collection.”

  “But surely this is no place for a lady,” James protested.

  “Oh, she is no delicate maiden held captive in a tower. The woman suffers from a very rare disorder. I’ve never come across another case like it before. It’s a condition I have chosen to call Somnambulophrenia. I’ve already begun writing a paper on it for the Royal College.” Thorncroft steepled his fingers and smiled as though basking in the glory.

  James frowned, puzzling over the name. “She sleepwalks? That warrants locking her up in here?”

  Thorncroft gave an exasperated sigh. “My dear brother, it is hardly a case of mere sleepwalking. It’s not even apparent whether she is actually asleep at all. She wanders under the influence of her own disordered mind.”

  “Do you mean she’s pretending?”

  “Not quite. I’m sure she believes she sleepwalks. Her periods of amnesia seem genuine enough. That suggests that whatever mischief takes place during these episodes is too traumatic to recall. And this delusion means she is a danger not only to herself but to anyone with whom she comes into contact in her wandering state. According to her husband, she has returned home many a night in a most unladylike condition, her clothes torn, her hair in disarray. Naturally, he feared for her safety, as do I.”

  “Naturally,” James said with a contemptuous snort. He knew full well why Madeleine occasionally returned home in a state of disarray and it had nothing to do with sleepwalking. “One can hardly take his word for it. I happen to know Mr. Henry Chancery and I can assure you that he is no gentleman. I suspect his account is greatly exaggerated. And to what purpose? Why, it’s common knowledge that he was nearly penniless when he met and courted Madeleine Wingate.”

  Thorncroft laughed. “Are you implying that he married her for her fortune? Honestly, I never thought you were the type to indulge in ladies’ gossip.”

  James bristled, but kept his voice even. “I’m telling you that not only did he marry her for her fortune, he had her committed so as to gain control of it. How much did he pay you to have her certified insane? I expect your fee was not inconsiderable.”

  His words had clearly struck a nerve. Thorncroft’s eyes narrowed and his jaw worked for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I find your insinuation highly offensive.” Then he sat back in his chair, regarding James with a challenging smile. “For your information, this lady could hold the key to the entire future of medical science.”

  James waited for him to elaborate but it was obvious he wanted to be asked. “Very well. What is this great discovery you’re clearly very keen to tell me about?”

  Thorncroft tapped a thick sheaf of papers stacked to one side of his desk. “She has the most extraordinary healing properties.”

  Whatever he’d been expecting, this took him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that she heals as if by magic. A small cut might vanish in a matter of minutes while a more serious injury can last several days. But the healing process is always the same: rapid and absolute. She has no scars, not a single blemish. And you can be assured that I have examined her very thoroughly.”

  James didn’t like the gleam in his brother’s eyes, didn’t like to wonder just how he had come by this peculiar discovery.

  “I can see you don’t approve,” Thorncroft said. “If it sets your mind at ease, let me reassure you that the lady feels no pain.”

  “Just because you inject her with drugs—”

  “No, no, no! I mean she doesn’t feel pain. Doesn’t experience it. At all. It’s as though her pain receptors are nonexistent. And yet she clearly feels pleasure and stimulation. Rather too much, in fact. Whatever strange processes are at work in her, there is certainly an element of sexual hysteria. She is capable of the most unseemly and wanton behavior.”

  That much was true at least. It was one of the things he loved about her. Madeleine was no repressed gentlewoman; she was a sensualist, like him.

  “I dare say,” Thorncroft continued, “she even takes some perverse pleasure in our little sessions. Clearly there is no place for her in polite society. It’s best that she remain here, where she can be looked after. So you needn’t worry about her. She’s in safe hands.”

  James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The poor woman suffered from nothing more than a healthy sexual appetite and a high pain threshold. But because she also had a fondness for moonlight strolls, she was locked up like a common lunatic while her greedy husband squandered her fortune.

  “So what you’re telling me is that she’s become some sort of laboratory specimen, a creature to be experimented on for the rest of her days.”

  Thorncroft waved a hand dismissively. “I should have known you were too sensitive to appreciate my work. It involves rather more than traipsing about the globe
catching butterflies and observing new species of bird. Now, if you don’t mind, I have much to do. I suggest you run along back to your little pets and leave the medical science to me.”

  James drew back from his brother’s cold words and patronizing tone. “I’m sorry you think so little of my own field of study,” he said, rising to leave. “It is perhaps fair to say that I know more about animals than people, but I cannot abide cruelty to either species. In any case, it’s a small consolation to me to see that at least one of us inherited our parents’ sense of compassion. I’ll show myself out.”

  With that he turned on his heel and left, closing the door to his brother’s study with some force. As the housekeeper fetched his overcoat and walking stick he peered up the stairs. Madeleine was up there somewhere, imprisoned against her will and subjected to appalling treatment. Now that he knew the full extent of his brother’s unsavory methods he had no intention of leaving his beloved at the mercy of them.

  It had been more than three weeks since Madeleine had found herself an inmate of the asylum. At first she had rebelled, but when her haughty demeanor got her nowhere she tried other tacks—charm, bribery, even violence. Nothing worked.