RUXANDRA STARED UP at the demon, mesmerized.
The creature looked back at her and smirked. “So you think I am beautiful, little sacrifice?”
“Dread demon!” Vlad Dracula pushed himself off the cave floor, then stood on shaky legs. “I have summoned you in accordance with the laws of heaven and hell, in ritual with blood and sacrifice. I have gathered men of stout heart and valor, and we have spoken the words of binding. You are in our control and powerless against what we have wrought.”
The demon’s left eyebrow rose, but she said nothing. Vlad took his place atop the pentacle. His men, still shaken from the force of the lightning, rose and staggered to their own places.
“Hear me, demon,” Vlad said, voice booming. “Hear the bargain we will strike. See the sacrifice before you! We have need of power. Power to defeat the infidel who defiles Christian lands. Power to rule Wallachia and to protect it from those who would conquer it.”
The demon knelt beside Ruxandra. “Did you know you were to be the sacrifice, girl? Did you come here of your own volition? Or were you dragged from your home and brought here against your will?”
“I—” Ruxandra couldn’t speak. The long, sharp teeth of the demon’s smile were far too close.
“Demon!” Vlad’s voice rang through the chamber. “Do not seek to distract us! Nor to deceive us. You will do as you are bidden, and you will give what is asked. You will bestow us this power, and in return, you may take the virginity and life of that girl who lies before you.”
“Oh, may I?” Sarcasm, thick and viscous, coated the words. The demon touched Ruxandra’s face, letting her finger trace the line of her jaw. “You are pretty. And a virgin, he says. Only regarding men, I am guessing, from the smell on you.”
Her eyes pierced Ruxandra’s again, and memories welled to the surface of Ruxandra’s mind. Her face turned red, and she tried to look away from the demon.
The demon cocked her head and smiled. “What sweet friends you have, little one. As to virgins, I prefer boys. There’s nothing like the face of a young man when he realizes he won’t be the one doing the penetrating.”
The creature stood. Its flesh blurred and flowed, and from between its legs grew an enormous, erect phallus, bigger even than the ones in Adela’s pictures. It pulsed, like a creature with its own mind, eager to begin driving into flesh. Ruxandra’s eyes went wide with horror. The demon smiled. “They all scream, of course. Even the ones who like it.”
Ruxandra began to cry again. The demon laughed. Her flesh blurred again, and the phallus vanished. “What infidels are these, Prince Dracula, that you would vanquish?”
“The Turks.”
“And why should I grant you this power?”
“You have been summoned! You are here to do my will and bidding. It is my bidding that you make myself and these four men invincible in battle so that we may smite our enemies.”
“You five?” The demon looked around the circle, taking in the others. “Five old soldiers. I think some more impressive physical specimens would have been appropriate.”
Vlad’s eyes flashed, and his next words came out through gritted teeth. “Each of these men is a leader in my army and a great warrior. Each will inspire his men to greater efforts through his invincibility. Now, take your sacrifice and grant my desire!”
“Or what?”
His face grew red. His next words came out in a snarl. “Or we will seal this cave, with you in it, in the circle, to stay here for a thousand years or more.”
“Well, that would be unfortunate, wouldn’t it?” The demon knelt between Ruxandra’s legs and leaned over her. “Close your eyes, girl.”
Ruxandra squeezed her eyes tight. She prayed that the thing would not tear her apart. I don’t want to die here. I want to live.
The metal at her wrists and ankles ripped apart with a loud, fast screech. Ruxandra’s eyes flew open in surprise. The demon wrapped its large hands around her shoulders and lifted her into a gentle embrace. Her flesh was hot and smelled of sulfur. Her breasts were soft and firm against Ruxandra’s as she gathered the girl to her chest. One hand slipped underneath Ruxandra’s backside. Then Ruxandra was lifted from the ground. In surprise, she wrapped her arms around the demon’s neck. For a moment she felt reassured.
The demon rose to her feet, carrying Ruxandra as like a child. She smiled at Prince Dracula. “I think not.”
“Demon, do as you are told! By the ritual and the blood, you were summoned,” Vlad shouted, his face going deep red. “By sacrifice, you are controlled, and by the laws of heaven and hell you will obey me!”
The demon’s smile grew wide, like a lion baring its fangs.
She turned a slow circle. “I can sense your lives, mortals. I know what disease will kill each of you, should you survive your battles. I know which of you prefer women and which prefer boys. I know what you ate for breakfast, and I know every sin you have committed since your birth, and you think this”—she gestured to the pentacle—“could control me? Fools.”
“You will obey,” Vlad said, his voice commanding and short. “You will give me power!”
“I will give you nothing,” the demon hissed. She looked at Ruxandra. “What is your name, girl?”
Ruxandra thought she was too terrified to speak, but she managed to speak the words. “Princess Ruxandra Dracula, daughter of Voivode Dracula.”
The demon looked back at Vlad. “You believe betraying your own flesh will give you more power?”
“I command—”
“Nothing!” The demon’s voice shook the cave, louder than the thunder that accompanied her arrival. It took two steps outside the pentacle, facing Vlad, and pointed at the ground. “That thing is a toy, not a barrier. It does nothing but open the door, and nothing you can do will close it until I will it shut.”
Vlad stumbled back, grabbing for his sword. The other four men drew their own weapons and ran to stand beside him.
“A company of fools,” the demon said, surveying them, “too stupid to know they should not deal in powers beyond their world. Too stupid to realize that I and my kind are far, far more powerful than any human could even imagine.”
Vlad pointed his sword at the demon. The blade shook. “This blade has been blessed and cleansed against such foul beings as you. I warn you, Demon—”
“I am no demon!” The words cracked like a whip. “I am one of those who fell with Lucifer. I am one who has lived in the tormenting fires of hell and will live there for all eternity. I have many, many men like you under my control there, and each one has broken, just as you will break.”
She glanced at Ruxandra who remained limp and terrified in her arms. “He will kill you, girl. Do you want to die?”
Ruxandra couldn’t comprehend the question. The fallen angel cared? She wanted her to live? That was impossible. No creature of hell cared for mortal life. The nuns who spoke of them made that clear. The fallen angels existed to torment the wicked and to ensure them an eternity of suffering for their sins.
“Decide now,” the fallen angel said. “Do you want to die?”
Ruxandra shook her head.
The demon smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile or a joyous one. It was a terrible, dark expression that spoke of horrors so deep as to be unfathomable. “Then you will not. Ever.”
“What—” Vlad took a step forward. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Fifteen hundred years ago, my kind were banished, Ruxandra.” The demon ran a gentle hand through her hair, like a mother petting a scared child. “We cannot roam the earth. We cannot dominate mankind any longer, nor make them bend to our will.”
The demon lifted her hand to her mouth and ran the end of one finger over the tip of one of her teeth. The skin split open, and silver blood welled up on her fingertip. She lowered the finger to Ruxandra’s lips. “Open your mouth.”
Ruxandra wanted to protest, to beg for God’s forgiveness and the creature’s mercy, to run screaming from the cave, but she couldn’t
find words or strength in her limbs. She could do nothing but cry as the fallen angel parted her lips.
“I send you out instead, my child, “ the fallen angel said, “to sow chaos and fear, to make humans kneel in terror and to ravage the world where I cannot.”
“Stop!” Vlad’s voice was shrill. “I command you to stop! Now!”
The fallen angel pushed open Ruxandra’s mouth and slipped the finger inside. “Soon you will be freer than you have ever dreamed.”
The drop of blood dripped from her finger onto Ruxandra’s tongue.
Pain blossomed in her mouth like a flower of flame. It enveloped her head then her entire body. Every fiber of her being burned. Ruxandra opened her mouth and screamed, louder and longer than she ever had before.
Her body arched and convulsed. She was on the floor, though she didn’t know how she’d gotten there. Her heels drummed hard against the ground, and her fingers clenched and unclenched of their own accord. Every inch of her flesh tore itself apart and rebuilt itself in a process that grew more agonizing with every moment.
“Shhh.” The demon’s voice penetrated her mind. “It will be over soon.”
The world around Ruxandra was reduced to a blood-red haze. She could see nothing, and felt nothing except agony.
“I command you!” screamed Vlad Dracula though he seemed so far away. “By the laws of heaven and hell, I—”
“You do not know the laws of heaven or hell, human.” The fallen angel’s voice broke through the haze. “You want power? Here is power, embodied. Control her if you can.”
Black lightning struck again, strong enough to break through the agony wrenching Ruxandra’s body and mind. There was sudden cold, then heat, then darkness . . .
“Wake up!”
The words floated beyond reach, beyond sense. Ruxandra heard them but could make no sense of their meaning.
“Wake up!”
Something struck her face, the pain distant and sharp. She focused on it, focused on finding the source of the pain and the words and guiding herself out of the darkness toward them.
“Wake up, stupid child!”
Another sharp stinging pain hit her cheek, and this time, a small hole broke open in the darkness. The pain came again and again, and with each wave, she came closer to wakefulness. “Get up, you little whore!”
“She is useless,” a second voice said. She still could not understand the words, but now she could hear them, and that was an improvement. The darkness around her paled to red. A third voice said, “We should leave her.”
“She is my daughter. We can still marry her off,” the first voice said, though the words held neither affection nor concern. She still could not make sense of them. Still could not understand anything except that her face hurt.
And that she was hungry.
Ruxandra opened her eyes. The cave, which she had vague memories of being dark and dim and red, seemed bright as day. The candles were like small shining stars, brilliant and bright and radiating their heat and light to strike every surface in the room. The walls of the cave were veined with different colors of rock, twisting and turning on themselves. Some shone white and pink. Others were a dull gray that sucked in the candle’s gift of light. All of them emanated their own subtle light, making the room even brighter.
She wanted to look longer, but there was a man leaning over her. She smelled him—and four more like him nearby. She smelled their sweat, their fear. She smelled woodsmoke on their clothes, and the meat they had eaten, and the ale they had drunk for their last meal. She smelled the blood under the fingernails of one of them—another man’s blood, not his own. And on and on—the world was a cacophony of scents . . . Here was a woman’s scent, coming off the groin of one of the men, and there, a man’s scent coming off another. One man had water on his boots, another had singed his cloak on the candle flames.
She could feel the blood racing through each man’s body.
Their pulses beat like drums in her ears, calling to her, shaking the air with their strength. They sang to her and drew her like a moth to a candle’s flame. Her mouth watered, and within, sharp teeth stretched from her gums. Her fingernails grew long and hard, like the talons of a hawk.
The man above her leaned in and grabbed her, pulling her upright. “Get on your feet, girl, or I’ll beat you senseless!”
It took nothing to reach out and sink her claws into his neck. The armor on his neck resisted for a moment, then gave beneath the strength of her talons. The man shouted in surprise, then screamed in agony as the talons sank deeper and deeper. He punched at her face and tried to raise his sword. She felt the blows and saw the weapon but ir felt as though it was all happening to another instead of to her.
His pulse raced faster, the heat of his flesh burned against her fingers, and his blood flowed like silk over her skin. The delicious scents of copper and iron and humanity blended together in a single whiff. Her hunger reared, demanding she drink.
NOW!
“Stop!” Vlad Dracula, voivode of Wallachia, scourge of the faith and terror of the Turks screamed as his daughter’s claws dug deeper into his flesh. “Please—”
She ripped Vlad’s head from his neck, and his blood fountained out. Ruxandra buried her face in the gaping stump, her mouth wide, slurping and swallowing the hot, red life that sprayed from his body. The other men screamed in horror, then ran for their lives.
The blood gave warmth but no strength. The man was dead already, and eating the dead, she realized, did nothing for her. She dropped him and leapt across the room, blocking the men’s escape. The man in front swung his sword, cutting deep into her side. Ruxandra ignored the wound. She lunged forward and sank her teeth into his throat. His shout of surprise turned into a gurgle. He spun and tried to shake her off, but she gripped him tight as she continued to drink.
It was so much better. It was not blood; it was life itself.
She relished in the life pulsing out of him and into her. It spread through her body like heat. She shuddered with pleasure, harder than she ever had with Adela and Valeria when their fingers touched and rubbed her to climax after climax. This was greater. Stronger. When his life faded from him, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. The pleasure of it made her tremble from head to foot.
She needed more. Much, much more.
The other three men backed into a corner, their weapons in front of them and eyes wide with terror. One of them shouted something, but she couldn’t understand the words. All she understood was his blood—precious, warm, life-filled and strong—calling to her.
She was across the room before he could raise his sword. Her teeth were in his throat before he could make a sound. She spun to put him between her and the other two, to keep their blades from biting into her as she drained his life in short, pleasure-filled gulps.
The next one died screaming.
The last one stumbled against the wall. He knelt to the ground and clasped his hands together. “O Lord my God, I confess that I have sinned against you in thought, word and deed. I have also omitted to do what your holy law requires of me. But now with repentance and contrition I turn again to your love and mercy. I entreat you to forgive me all my transgressions and to cleanse me—”
The words vanished in a gurgle as her teeth sank deep into his throat. He didn’t struggle, didn’t fight like the others. Whispered words slipped through his lips and to Ruxandra’s ear.
“We brought this on our—”
The words were gone, and the last of his life faded away. Ruxandra dropped him, then scanned the room. There was nothing else to eat but she didn’t mind. She was exhausted, like a man pushing himself away from the feast table, too full of food and drink to make sense. She stumbled back into the pentacle. The ground there was smoother than any other part of the room. Her eyes grew heavier. She lay down and closed her eyes, content in the smell of blood and death, warm and satiated from what she had drank.
As she tipped over the edge of consciousness, a sin
gle, coherent thought—her first since drinking the fallen angel’s blood—slipped through her mind.
What have I done?
WHEN SHE AWOKE, the candles were gutted.
The scent of smoke still lingered, mixed with the tang of rock and dust and old, stale air. A subtle counterpoint to the overwhelming stench of blood and death that filled the cavern.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the walls of the cavern and then at the pentacle inscribed into the ground around her. The four chains the fallen angel had destroyed when she freed her lay in pieces around her.
A fallen angel. Among everything else—everything she was not yet thinking about—she felt awe.
It occurred to her she should not be able to see. She should be helpless in the darkness of the deep earth, reduced to crawling, hands outstretched, searching for a way out of the cavern. Instead, the cave was twilight dim. The rocks themselves glowed: lavender, pink, periwinkle blue. There was enough light to see the walls and the floor, the outline of the pentacle, and the jagged opening leading to the next cavern.
And the corpses.
Her father’s head lay on its side in front of her. Sightless eyes stared at her, accusing. His mouth was wide open in a final silent scream. Below it, the bloody, shredded flesh of his neck hung red and dripping, with the white bone of his spine peeking through.
She screeched and scrambled backward out of the pentacle, moving until she hit the wall. Even then she kept pushing, pressing herself hard against the cave wall, trying to make her body meld with the stone and erase the horrors around her.
It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.
She was just a girl. She couldn’t kill five strong, armed, seasoned warriors. She couldn’t have done that to her father. She didn’t know how to fight, let alone kill. No human had the strength to do those things to another. She couldn’t have stuck her fingernails into his neck.
But she remembered doing it.
Remembered sinking her talons into her father’s throat and tearing until—
Her eyes darted to her hands. There were no talons, just fingernails, chipped and broken from where she had scraped them against the floor as she had struggled to escape the chains. She raised both her hands to her mouth, feeling over her teeth. There were no fangs; there was no way she could have bitten into anyone’s throat. She couldn’t have done it. It wasn’t possible.