by Lorelei Bell
Spell of the Dark Castle
Lorelei Bell
Sequel to Spell of the Black Unicorn
Copyright (C) 2018 Lorelei Bell
Layout design and Copyright (C) 2018 by Creativia
Published 2018 by Creativia
Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.
Table of Contents
Author's Note
PART ONE: The Inductee Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART TWO: Dark Castle Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
PART THREE: Count Saint Germain Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
PART FOUR: Rogue Wizards Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
About the Author
Author's Note
All ideas, worlds and characters are author's own creation, with the exception of Count Saint Germain—which I've tweaked to fit into my story.
Comte de Saint-Germain had become an obsession of mine, when I discovered him in my research many years ago. Much can be found about him on the Internet and library, if one wishes to only look.
Saint Germain was an adventurer, amateur scientist, inventor and dilettante musician. He purposely concealed his background and identity, and used such pseudonyms as Count Welldone, Prince Ragotzy, Count Bellamare and Count Surmont on his wide travels throughout Europe.
Saint Germain was most likely either the son of Franz Leopold Rakoczy, exiled Prince of Transylvania, or the illegitimate son of Marie-Ann de Neubourg, widow of Charles II of Spain. In his youth it was thought he was a protégé of the Grand Duke Gian Gastone (the last of the Medicis) and may have studied at Siena University. He appeared in London society from about 1743, and in 1758 was in Paris, where he became a favorite of Mme de Pompadour and Louis XV.
He was known throughout Europe during the mid-1700's, in France and England. From everything I've ever read about him, it was thought that he always looked the same age (about 50 during the mid-1700's and beyond), no matter when someone might see him, say, 50 years later. Thus, it isn't surprising to learn it was rumored Saint-Germain had the elixir of life—something that would prolong a person's lifespan perhaps indefinitely. It was also said that he had the secret of removing flaws from diamonds. It was possible people were duped by him. Some thought him a “quack”, but there were a lot of other people claiming such things, including turning inferior minerals to gold.
His exact birth and date wasn't known, but at one point it was believed he might have been born in Holland, and had some unknown source of opulence.
His obvious talents were connected with knowledge of alchemy. One of his boasts was to make one large diamond out of many small ones. That would tend to make one popular with royalty, but it also may have been a way to dupe those believing this to hand over their wealth (and become quite rich off them).
Saint-Germain was also into politics. At one point he became a secret agent in international affairs, and was sent to The Hague to negotiate with Prince Louis of Brunswick for peace by Louis XV. Saint-Germain's dealings with this nearly landed him in jail, but he received warning just before his arrest.
Further travels took him to Russia, Germany and Italy; he visited Berlin at the invitation of Friedrich August of Brunswick, and in 1779 Prince Karl of Hesse, his patron, gave him a building for his scientific experiments. He claimed to have made several discoveries applicable to manufacturing processes and was associated with industries in the Low Countries. It is rumored he also went to Egypt and the Far East.
In all the information I've gathered on this historical man, one thing stood out. He was his own man, and seemed to have his fingers into everything. He influenced Freemasonry, and other secret societies, some which studied alchemy; and he was the one who gave Mesmer his fundamental ideas on personal magnetism and hypnotism.
Saint-Germain is still thought to be alive (well, that would be quite a trick!), and is still wandering around the world. It was from this personality that I created my character, Count Saint Germain for this book “Spell of Dark Castle”. I hope you enjoy it.
~Lorelei Bell
The Wandering Traveler
by Bartholomew Ogden Langguth
Introduction
My first impression of Dark Castle—where it resides upon its lofty perch of two monoliths—was of its immensity. Even at a distance these golden horns rise incredibly above a dense and verdant panorama of forest. I had expected twin dolmens, but to say one was slightly shorter and more slender than its brother, is almost to take away from their imposing size.
Dark Castle itself is a windowless palace built originally by the king of vampires, atop these grand menhirs. A smaller abode called “The Nest” was constructed first upon the more petite stone spire of the two. The larger palace resides upon the other, larger megalith and a bridge spans these two upthrusting rocks to access the main castle, overlooking a magnificent horseshoe waterfall. The only stairs which gains this lordly perch, zig-zags up the slimmer of the two horns. The palace is guarded by an imposing gate, but this is not what keeps intruders out. A time-bending Portal, achieved because of several ley lines which converge beneath these two massive stones, will, I'm told, place you anywhere outside its gates, or within the castle, depending upon its whim at any moment of the day or night.
Dark Castle, and the village, had always been a place of refuge for those who walk on the slightly darker side, even prior to our own history, here on Euphoria. Legend has it that the Helsingas—the half-man, half-lizard creatures, who stood twice as tall as any living man—had erected these menhirs to their god. The largest menhir is purported to be hollow and cave-like.
As I stroll the streets of Ravenwood at night, I am acutely aware of the were-people and vampires, and members of various secret and illegal sects, societies and cults, who stride about in their various robes and costumes, depending upon their affiliations. They all gather and imbibe in the spirits at the two inns here. Most likely their numbers are large because of the propinquity of the Oblast, just a few kilometers away.
In any case, I shall nary venture here again, gentle readers as I was lucky to have made it out alive.
P
ART ONE: The Inductee
Chapter 1
His lips moved against her ear, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.
“Xilomorah,” Dorian gasped, breathless.
Zofia gaped up at her husband. “What?” she asked, not sure if she heard him correctly, as they floated four or five feet above the bed, as usual, making love. All action had stopped, however, as Dorian returned her incredulous stare.
“What?” he said, looking startled as though a revelation had conked him on the head.
“You said Xilomorah,” she said. Smack dab in the middle of a glorious release, no less. “Why the hell would Xilomorah come to mind when you're making love to me?”
“She turned me into a vampire,” he said on a withering gasp, as though he'd phased from having a release himself to coming to some monumental epiphany. “I just remembered it. That's all.”
A twinge of fury swelled inside and Zofia pushed Dorian off with all her might. They both tumbled to the bed, bounced a few times and Zofia used the momentum to half-jump, and half-Transvect herself away from the bed and landed on both bare feet.
“What're you doing?” he asked, the ire in his voice apparent. “I wasn't finished.”
“You are now!” she bit off the words as she swept a wisp of sienna hair out of her eyes. “You let Xilomorah bite you!” Spying her lacy white panties on the floor, she grabbed them and pulled her legs through.
Dorian hadn't been back as a wizard for a full twenty-four hours yet, after being a vampire for five years, during which he'd forgotten a lot of things—like how he'd been turned into a vampire. Zofia had suspected Xilomorah (who was Vesselvod Blood's half-sister—both were now very much dead), had been behind it. What a time for him to suddenly recall the witch while they were making passionate love. Her face burned and her heart beat madly. She was not a happy sorceress. She wanted to hex something—if Dorian got in the way, all the better.
“I didn't let her bite me,” he said, drawing his lean, but well-muscled legs over the side of the bed. Dorian paused. She took in his human flesh tones, happy that he no longer sported the pale vampire skin tone of just a few days before.
“No?” she said, incredulous stare in place. “Then how exactly did you let that ugly crone turn you?”
“She wasn't exactly ugly at the time.”
“No?” Zofia raised her eyebrows and waited for more. She never presumed that Dorian was like all the other Knights when he was on an assignment, and away from home for long periods of time and took a lover. Most sorceresses of Euphoria took this in stride when they learned their husband was having an affair, and simply had affairs of their own. Why couldn't she? For one thing, she didn't want to. Mother of two growing children, and in love with her husband, she didn't feel the need. (Although she had dated the Ugwump, Sergeant Richard Keys, while living here on First World, but that was before she'd learned that Dorian wasn't exactly dead, but un-dead.)
“You agreed we'd tell each other our worst secrets from the past five years,” Dorian blurted, looking incensed. “I told you mine, now it's your turn.”
“Not yet!” She brushed an annoying length of sienna hair out of her eyes. “Not until you tell me exactly how Xilomorah seduced you.” Two fists found her slim waist as she gave Dorian full benefit of her dark glare. “Did you bed her?”
“Mom!” Blanche's voice from down stairs filtered up to the bed room. They both ignored their daughter's call.
“She seduced me.” He gave her a sheepish look, then dropped his gaze.
“And then what?”
He snatched up his jeans and boxers from the floor. He pulled the boxers up, holding out for more time.
“And then what? You had to get between the sheets with her?” Zofia snarled ferociously, remembering a line she'd heard in an Ugwump movie once.
“I was on assignment!” he snapped. “I was”—he gasped with his frustration—“extracting information from her and she bit me and nearly drained me of blood and then made me drink hers and—”
Zofia held up her hand to stop him. “Bluckh! That's plenty of detail, thank you!” Locating her bra, she snagged it from off the lamp shade, thrust her arms through the arm holes but couldn't hook it in the back. Struggling a few more times, she gave up, and pitched the thing across the room. “Stupid Ugwump thingamajig!”
A knock, then, “Mom!” Blanche's voice filtered in through their bedroom door.
“Don't come in!” They both shouted at the door.
Zofia threw on her T-shirt, then picked up a pair of shorts and hopped around on one foot trying to get into them. Dorian managed to snug on his faded blue jeans, and grabbed for his button shirt. He was nearly all the way dressed, while she barely managed to cover herself.
“It's amazing you couldn't remember this yesterday,” she said, still hopping around on one foot. “And today, you remember every last detail. You're really amazing—”
“Please,” Dorian drew out the word, giving her the I-can't-believe-you're-this-mad look. “After eighteen years of marriage, I would think we could tell each other our nasty little secrets without becoming unhinged.”
Finally Zofia fell back on the bed, thrust legs into her cut-offs, and zipped them up. Standing, she returned a challenging glare. “Unhinged, am I?” she said this in a much calmer tone than she was really feeling.
“Yes,” he said in his usual clipped fashion. His own sapphire gaze took on a slightly triumphant cast. A swath of raven-black hair fell across his brow in casual indifference. He hadn't buttoned up his shirt, and he was giving her a peek of his virile chest. She found she couldn't tear her eyes off his washboard abs (he used to do a thousand sit-ups and two hundred and fifty push-ups daily as part of his physical regiment to keep fit for his job as a Knight), and it gave her a sudden twinge of desire. She tore her eyes away. “You were the one who suggested this. I can hardly wait to hear what your little dirty secret is,” he said and then added with an imperious gleam, “I know all about Richard, so that can't be it.”
He knew very well that she had not gone against Code. It was the other thing she had done which was a terrible Taboo (besides doing it with him while a vampire, and that was just as bad), and she feared more what Dorian would think, or do because of it. Never mind what the Heathweian Council of Wizards would do to her, once they found out.
“You let your male hormones run away with you. What I did, I did for my child!”
“Mom! Dad!”
“Ho-ho! So-o-o, you did do something you're ashamed of, but it was all for the good of our child?” He achieved that imperious expression all wizards of Euphoria were capable of as he folded his arms across his chest. “Which one was it? Blanche or Elton?” he asked low, so that Blanche wouldn't hear.
“Don't you change the subject!” she barked. “Exactly what were you doing at the time you met Xilomorah—and don't give me the excuse that you were on assignment at the time—”
“Mom!”
“You know I was on assignment, and whenever I'm on assignment—”
“Dad!”
“—I've every right to interview anyone and everyone who may lead me—”
“MOM!” Blanche suddenly appeared out of thin air into the room. One moment she was out in the hall, the next she was standing right before them.
“WHAT!” both Zofia and Dorian shouted, throwing their sixteen-year-old daughter angry scowls.
Blanche jumped back from their sudden outburst.
“Jeeze! Chill, you guys,” Blanche retorted, looking slightly scandalized. “Someone's here.”
“Who?” Zofia asked.
“Can't this wait?” Dorian asked bitterly. “It's probably that stupid Ugwump neighbor of yours—that Lulu woman—”
“Lolly,” Zofia corrected.
“Whatever!”
“It isn't Lolly,” Blanche interrupted. “There's a Bubble out in the backyard, just hovering.”
Both Zofia and Dorian exchanged startled expressions. A Bubble was used a
lmost exclusively by an Immortal to get around from place to place. It was also handy for traveling from one planet to the other. Just as Dorian had traveled back to their planet, Euphoria, last night via the Sorcerer's Tree—the only other magical way sorcerers could travel from one place to another. He had returned to their planet to report to his boss, Stephen Restormell, Head Commander of the Knights of the Witenagemont, that he was no longer a vampire, but a wizard again (thanks to the spell Zofia and Tillie had done on him). Stephen had welcomed him back into the fold as a Knight. Afterwards, Dorian had returned home early in the morning, slipped into the bedroom, stripped off all his clothes and woke Zofia with his lovemaking. He'd mumbled into her ear that the Immortal, Paradeep, and possibly Stephen would arrive later on in the Bubble to pick him up and return to their planet. But they were early. By several hours.
Forgetting their argument, Zofia and Dorian both swept past Blanche, and rushed out of the room. Dorian's broad shoulder slammed Zofia into the wall, making a full-out effort to be the first one to get downstairs.
“HEY!” Zofia cried, and shot forward, Transvecting down the stairs to the front entry where she passed him up. They banged into one another, and Zofia slammed into the wall, knocking a picture askew. Zofia readjusted the picture magically, and then zoomed through the threshold, into the dining room only to be halted by Blanche's form as it suddenly popped out of nowhere, right in front of her.
“I really wish you'd warn a person before you Evanish in front of them, Blanche!”
“Sorry, Mom,” Blanche said, but couldn't hold back her mirth. Ever since four a.m. this morning, she'd discovered she had the power to Evanish—disappear and reappear—anywhere at will. She'd been popping in and out of rooms all morning (except for theirs, thank wizards!), showing off. Tillie had knocked on the door revealing this bit of news, but Zofia was a little too busy to go and watch.
“Must be nice,” Zofia muttered, half under her breath. The power to Evanish skipped a generation, and no one knew who in the family would inherit the powers when they became sixteen or seventeen.