Succubus

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Countess Anna

Anna Draculesti didn’t suffer from mental illness … she enjoyed every minute of it. Actually, that’s not precisely accurate. The Succubus enjoyed every minute of it; Anna was just the unfortunate passenger who came along for the ride. She was a spectator, in a non-spectator sport, like the bloodthirsty citizens who cheered at the bloody gore and gruesome killings which occurred in the colosseum below them. Just as the slaves who were forced to become gladiators, and fight for their lives, Anna had no control over the demon within her. The fearsome beast who, if made angry or frightened, could visit such pain and destruction on someone, to hear tell of it, you would never sleep soundly, without one eye open, again.

You would think with a profession such as ‘Succubus’ that this woman would be incredibly sexy, erotic, seductive and … well, horny. I’m sure that this would usually be the case, as legend would have it. But in Anna’s case, the Succubus demon had been sort of ‘gifted to her’ by a well-meaning wizard, as a means of physical insurance, if you will.

To be sure, Anna was a beauty to behold. But as far as seducing the opposite sex went, in all truth, she would much rather read a really good book.

All will be explained, in good time…if you care to read on.

§ ∞ §

Castle Draculesti, August 1560

Anna sat on her four-poster bed throwing walnuts at the wood basket, near the fireplace in her bedroom. Anything to kill the boredom. The nuts sometimes went in, but more often than not, bounced off the wall and rolled around her room. Cristina, her housekeeper, was going to have a fit, but Anna knew she would soon be forgiven. Other than that, nothing could be heard except the monotonous ticking of the pendulum clock on her bedside table. The ticking was beginning to gnaw at her brain. She grabbed the clock and charged down the stairs to the drawing room where she slammed it unceremoniously above the large fireplace in that room.

‘There! Annoy someone else for a while,’ she snarled at it.

She trudged back up the curving staircase to her room, feeling alone and restless. Her room had become like her prison tower. She liked her privacy, but sometimes it was so oppressive she was sure she would go mad. But given her little ‘problem’ … it was best she avoided strangers.

She plopped back down on her bed and began to chew her nails as she stared out the window at the growing darkness outside. A noise outside the open window drew her attention. Hooves on the cobblestones. A visitor? They hadn’t received visitors in so long, unless …

She leapt up to have a look. It appeared to be a young man, judging by his size and stance, suitably cloaked against the elements. He was hunched over in defence against the bitter cold rain and wind. The hairs on her neck prickled. Past experiences had taught her to dread visits from strangers.

‘It’s been a while. Perhaps things will be alright this time,’ she muttered to herself from her secluded spot. Peering out the stone arched window in the corner turret of the west wing, she could see the lone rider coming up the narrow path. Almost a day’s ride from the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, Draculesti Castle with its fifty-five rooms, was tall and thin, but currently understaffed due to complicated family matters. It had fallen somewhat into a state of disrepair. With its pointed cone shaped roof tops, it towered above the stranger formidably like a brooding vulture perched on its rock. Come on. You can do this, Anna.

The regular sound of horseshoes continued to ring out against the cobblestoned road. The night was dark and perilous, as they often were in this part of Romania, with its dense forests covering the mountain. The wind whistled through the spruce trees and the sleet was blowing sideways. It was late autumn and the occasional cold snap gripped the mountains when the last of the day’s lingering warmth had disappeared from the sky.

He must have been cold and miserable, whoever he was. One would need a strong motivation to come all the way up here along a dirt road to the remote mountainous countryside of Romania, to call upon the Countess, Anna Draculesti.

She shook her head and sighed. ‘Do yourself a favour, Sir, just keep riding,’ she muttered to herself. Her stomach began to knot, and her heart beat a little faster.

But she had grown bored up here, rattling around this big empty castle alone. She had a small staff of servants of course; but they didn’t really count. The people from the village usually left her alone. Out of sight out of mind. The lonely eccentric heiress in her creepy castle on the mountaintop. She would send her crops and stock to market in the harvest season and occasionally venture into town, incognito of course, for new bits of cloth and other vital supplies, when she felt the loneliness would drive her completely insane. But overall, she led a very isolated existence.

Anna moved away from the window, out of sight. If it were up to her alone, she would not even answer the door. But the shameful truth of it was, Anna’s soul was no longer hers to command. She would let the fool play out his well-rehearsed performance. She had never needed a husband before, she certainly didn’t need one now. Against her better judgement, she made her way down the flights of stairs to greet him.

§ ∞ §

He dismounted his horse beneath the light of a full moon and a chorus of wolves serenaded him. The horse grew nervous - howling carnivores will do that to you - and danced about as the stranger tied the jumpy animal’s lead to a concrete pillar beneath a small overhanging ledge by the wall. He stared up at the imposing eight-foot-tall solid oak, arched doors and swallowed hard. He mustn’t linger too long lest he lose all courage and abandon this quest. He lifted the wrought iron ring, which felt icy cold in his now gloveless hand, and knocked as loudly as he could.

It felt an age had passed as he stood shivering in the drizzle, occasional rivulets finding their way down his neck, until he heard the heavy latches slide back inside and half of the door creaked open. A bar of candlelight from within fell across his path. A tall mature woman, slim and sullen with a tightly wrapped headdress, stepped into the bar of light and stood before him. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked in a deep menacing tone that suggested she would really have preferred not to help him.

The man removed the hood of his oilskin cloak and shook his head. His short blonde hair appeared as wet snakes spraying icy droplets in the servant’s direction. She grimaced.

‘Good evening,’ the young man said. ‘Is your Mistress home this night?’

The woman looked down her nose at him. She waited for a suitable amount of time to let his anxiety build. ‘Come,’ she said finally and turned sharply on her heel. He struggled to keep up with the tall woman as she strode towards the drawing room. ‘Wait here,’ she commanded. ‘The Countess will attend you shortly.’ Then she turned and left him alone in the lavishly furnished room.

Without politely awaiting permission from his hostess, Andrei decided to help himself to a glass of red wine from the side-table. He gazed around the inside of the castle drawing room. It had high arched ceilings and a massive fireplace where a roaring fire crackled. The room was full of luxuriant furnishings in deep burgundy velvet. A gilded clock sat on the sizeable mantle surrounded by various porcelain figurines. The delicate hands on its face showed it was nearing 8pm.

Above Andrei, three large candelabra hung spread out over the sizeable arched gothic ceiling, although the room was still far from light. The shadows in the far corners held amorphous shapes he could not identify. Possibly a suit of armour or statue of some Greek God, or some such person of importance.

He had not dallied long, sipping the sweet wine, before a cold draft blew past his ear and he turned towards the staircase. She stood there observing him with a pleasant smile on her lips.

Countess Anna Draculesti was a golden vision of loveliness. Dressed in a fitted satin gown of the deepest red, she exuded passionate allurement. She was tall, slender and graceful with pale green eyes that could pierce your very soul.

‘Good evening, Sir. I see you have made yourself comfortable?’ she said with just the barest hint of sarcasm as she glanced at his half empty wine glass.

He nodded and returned her smile. ‘I have, thank you Mistress.’ He put the glass down on the side table and approached her with a bow, hand outstretched in greeting. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Andrei Bercovici. Thank you for your kind hospitality on this terrible stormy night.’

Anna smelled of summer flowers on a peaceful meadow. Her skin was pure as the driven snow. But her eyes, soft green like moss on an ancient tree bough, possessed a kind of sadness in their depths, which mesmerized all who met her. Although when she smiled, it was warm and inviting.

‘Why of course, Master Bercovici.’ She took his hand and invited him to be seated on one of the loungers in the drawing room. ‘Please, sit with me a while. Tell me, what brings you all the way out here on a night such as this?’ She knew his face from somewhere; its oddly asymmetrical shape and shifty eyes. He had a cocky arrogance about his manner and fine expensive clothes. She grappled with trying to recall this memory as she continued to play along with his game. For a game it surely must be. No-one called on the castle without a definite reason to do so. It was too far off the beaten track for a random visit.

‘My, my you are every bit as forthright as they say, aren’t you?’ His eyes trailed the lines of her body appreciably as she continued to stare him down, silent, with raised eyebrows, awaiting his reply.

She didn’t react like the young women from the village. They would buckle and begin to flirt, giggle and behave nervously whenever Andrei spoke with them. Anna held a certain commanding manner which defied her youth. An old soul, some might call it.

He began to look a little unsettled. ‘I had learned that you, brave young lady that you are, had been left the incredibly daunting task, since the unfortunate death of your father, of running this vast estate. It must be a terrible, troublesome burden to you, surely?’

Men are so predictable Anna thought.

‘I can see how a man, such as yourself, would think so. But you need not trouble yourself, kind Sir. My father died a good ten years past. I have come to terms with my grief and the estate, as I am sure you are aware, has been run like clockwork ever since. But I do appreciate the sentiment,’ the Countess said, as she stood up and glided across to the side table to pour herself a goblet of wine.

From the corner of her eye Anna saw him smile like someone who knows he is about to win a prize. Full of cocky arrogance, he raised his glass to his lips once more, tasting the rich well-aged vintage wine. Brimming with confidence from his seat opposite the Countess he added, ‘Of course, of course. You ‘appear’ to be doing remarkably well indeed, under the circumstances,’ he agreed in a condescending tone. Obviously still attempting to massage her fragile ego. ‘Still, do you not feel lonely for the company of another human being, so young and full of vigour yourself?’

‘Oh certainly. I do love to have visitors,’ she lied. She detested strangers invading her solitude. ‘Of course, I have a few servants. But it does get awfully cold in the castle at night, especially this time of year, when the harvesting is over, and the snow is but a few moons away.’

Andrei nodded his head agreeably. ‘Indeed, the nights are cold when one sleeps alone. I must admit, I am a little surprised that you have not yet taken a husband. What are you now, three and twenty? Why a woman in these times could be considered an old maid if not wed by the age of twenty-five. Even one somewhat homely and unfortunate looking,’ he said, quickly adding, ‘not that you yourself aren’t the definition of loveliness itself my dear.’

The nerve, Anna thought, never ask a woman her age. ‘I turned twenty-five last birthday. Old maid you say? I have felt no need to marry as yet. How clever of you to guess. Do you have any other hidden talents?’ She took another sip of her burgundy and ran her tongue across her upper lip to catch an errant droplet.

Watching her closely, Andrei wriggled in his seat, as though his breeches suddenly feeling a little tighter. ‘Hidden talents you ask? Those I have. For certain, I do. Spend the evening with me and you might be lucky enough to experience them.’ He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and she laughed politely at his lame attempt at humour.

The Countess continued to chat amiably about trivial nonsense, always depicting the meek, mild hostess; always letting Andrei think he had the upper hand.

Finally, a few hours later, when the candles had burned low in their stands, Anna stood yawning theatrically. ‘I do apologise Andrei, but it really is past time I retired to my bedchamber. Cristina, my housekeeper, has prepared you a bed for the night. Feel free to enjoy the wine and food set out on the dining table before retiring to bed yourself. But for now, I shall bid you, Goodnight.’ She nodded to him politely and he faltered momentarily, trying to think of a tactful way to divert things back to a direction which would benefit his cause.

‘Thank you, Milady. You will know where I am should you feel the need for some extra warmth during the long cold night, then,’ he called after her with a wink and she tried not to cringe in return.

‘I will know where to find you, Sir,’ she replied while refilling her wine goblet and simultaneously rolling her eyes, stifling a groan. She turned and left him with a final, ‘Good evening’ before climbing gracefully up the stairs to where her master bedroom sat on the third floor in the west wing of the castle.

§ ∞ §

Andrei sat, feeling a little abandoned, sipping his drink in contemplation. He couldn’t, simply could not let the night end there. He felt Anna had warmed to him, but it wasn’t enough. He would have no further excuse to linger come morning and the opportunity would have been missed. He must make a memorable impression tonight, if he hoped to convince her of his merits as a suitor.

Cristina eventually appeared at the door to the drawing room. She crossed her arms and firmed her lips, indicating that she grew tired of his opportunistic nature and wished him gone from her sight. ‘Come Sir, I will show you to your room for the night.’

Andrei followed the housekeeper up the staircase to the third floor. ‘What is on the second floor?’ he asked in passing.

‘Oh, you mustn’t go to the second floor,’ she ordered. She looked a little nervous and her speech stumbled. ‘There … has been a leak, ah, severe water damage. We are trying to get a carpenter to fix it. T’would be far too dangerous to snoop around in there, Sir. I’d ask you to respect the kindness the Mistress has shown a stranger and avoid that part of the castle if you would be so kind.’

‘Oh, certainly. Of course. Thanks for the warning,’ he added, still gazing curiously up the corridor to the second floor as they continued past and further up the winding staircase. In truth he was even more eager to investigate the second floor now.

At the third floor, Cristina stopped at the fourth room on the right. A grand four poster bed stood before them, decked out in dark purple velvet, with a sheepskin rug on the floor. The smell of lavender and other crushed herbs hung in the air. The freshly lit fire burned merrily in the sizeable fireplace. Before Cristina turned to leave, Andrei called out, ‘Ah, the Countess? Where would her quarters be, if you don’t mind my asking?’

She smiled, which for some reason was a little unsettling then lowered her eyes humbly, resuming her station as servant, and replied, ‘Hers is the room fifth on the left, up this very hall, Sir. Not far from yours.’

‘Ah, thank you. I, ah, just wondered. Curiosity you know.’

‘Of course,’ Cristina said voice dripping sarcasm.