The Bathory Curse (5 page)

“Lesson 30, learn to bargain.” Sabine had stroked
her hand but Nea never did find out what Sabine had bargained
with.

They cheered together in 1476 when Vlad took back
Wallachia with Hungarian support and Nea thought a new era had
begun for her husband and children. She felt like she could relax
into her new life, it was not to last however.

One night only months after his regained glory,
Bendis came to tell her Vlad had died, Nea didn’t realize her heart
could break again. The rumors were he had been ambushed on his way
to Bucharest and beheaded. Nea had pleaded with Bendis for the
right to have her children come live with her. Bendis refused and
forbade Nea to even see her boys until it was time to turn
Mihail.

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 25
^th
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 with 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.