Bathory's Secret: When All The Time In The World Is Not Enough (Affliction Vampires Book 1) by Romina Nicolaides Page A
Authors: Romina Nicolaides
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covering which had not been replaced fully after I was fed allowed me few glimpses of my surroundings.
There were five other bodies bundled like me and stacked on a flat surface a bit like flour sacks in a shop and we were lifted up in the air and lowered through an opening into a building or structure of some kind. It smelled damp and dirty and the atmosphere got more dank the further down we moved. I felt as if I was being taken deep underground. When we came to a stop I was picked up by someone and moved again. Eventually my carrier dropped me to the ground and cut my ropes before swiftly leaving. I struggled loose from my bonds and looking around I realized I was in a small cell in what appeared to be a cave system deep underground. The cell was sparse and the iron bars looked ancient and rusty but they were relentless when I shook them. For days no one came and I was given no information as to why I was there or what would happen to me. From what I could see of it, the cave system was older than anything in the world. The ceiling was covered in stalactites which made the languorous effort to connect with their counterparts on the floor. In a few thousand years these salt pillars would eventually meet in a long-desired union.
As the reality of my situation sank in over my first few days in captivity, I began to become angry. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to be caught and realized that my years in Balgadartsi were but a foolish act and a pleasant yet distant memory. In my stupid mind I had ignored what the man had said about sowing death in my wake and kept thinking that if only I had done some things differently I wouldn't have been caught and I might now be in a new small town full of new potential drinking vessels. The fact that he had been tracking my reckless behavior for years escaped me at that moment.
The sound of the small satchel of blood hitting the ground interrupted my thought stream. Before I could see who’d dropped it off, the person had left. I picked it up and stared at it. These people were making sure I remained alive, but with the least amount of sustenance possible. I drank it in the blink of an eye and tossed it beyond the bars. “How dare these people keep me here?” I kept repeating to myself in frustration while grabbing onto the un-giving cage.
In time a woman in a long hemp dress appeared beyond the bars. She picked up the satchel and looked at me initially with contempt but then with concentration. Her eyes were a dark blue color, the same as the ocean just before a storm and they seemed just as deep. It was as if she was seeing through me. Her dress resembled a nun’s habit but unusually for nuns, it was a deep scarlet color. Her hands were folded on the front of her body and they were tucked into the sleeves so that they could not be seen and her head was covered with a hood. She smelled very strongly of church incense and she reminded me of being at Mass. She stared at me for a good while saying nothing at all and when she was done she looked down, closed her eyes and said, “Thank you Lord for helping us remove another one of these parasites from amongst your flock and oblige it in Your service,” in Bulgarian almost as bad as mine. Without thinking I hissed and lunged at her through the bars but she drew back quickly, half expecting it. She swiftly crossed herself several times and walked off without another word.
A few more days of hunger and solitude would pass before two men came to my cell. They were plainly dressed and clearly belonged to some lower working order. We did not have a common language but from their motions I could make out that they wanted me to pass my hands through the gap in the bars palms facing but I refused to indulge them. Sadly for me they were familiar with un-cooperation and were not averse to using violence to get the job done, so with a few swipes of their silver-tipped whip I relented and allowed them to tie my wrists
There were five other bodies bundled like me and stacked on a flat surface a bit like flour sacks in a shop and we were lifted up in the air and lowered through an opening into a building or structure of some kind. It smelled damp and dirty and the atmosphere got more dank the further down we moved. I felt as if I was being taken deep underground. When we came to a stop I was picked up by someone and moved again. Eventually my carrier dropped me to the ground and cut my ropes before swiftly leaving. I struggled loose from my bonds and looking around I realized I was in a small cell in what appeared to be a cave system deep underground. The cell was sparse and the iron bars looked ancient and rusty but they were relentless when I shook them. For days no one came and I was given no information as to why I was there or what would happen to me. From what I could see of it, the cave system was older than anything in the world. The ceiling was covered in stalactites which made the languorous effort to connect with their counterparts on the floor. In a few thousand years these salt pillars would eventually meet in a long-desired union.
As the reality of my situation sank in over my first few days in captivity, I began to become angry. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to be caught and realized that my years in Balgadartsi were but a foolish act and a pleasant yet distant memory. In my stupid mind I had ignored what the man had said about sowing death in my wake and kept thinking that if only I had done some things differently I wouldn't have been caught and I might now be in a new small town full of new potential drinking vessels. The fact that he had been tracking my reckless behavior for years escaped me at that moment.
The sound of the small satchel of blood hitting the ground interrupted my thought stream. Before I could see who’d dropped it off, the person had left. I picked it up and stared at it. These people were making sure I remained alive, but with the least amount of sustenance possible. I drank it in the blink of an eye and tossed it beyond the bars. “How dare these people keep me here?” I kept repeating to myself in frustration while grabbing onto the un-giving cage.
In time a woman in a long hemp dress appeared beyond the bars. She picked up the satchel and looked at me initially with contempt but then with concentration. Her eyes were a dark blue color, the same as the ocean just before a storm and they seemed just as deep. It was as if she was seeing through me. Her dress resembled a nun’s habit but unusually for nuns, it was a deep scarlet color. Her hands were folded on the front of her body and they were tucked into the sleeves so that they could not be seen and her head was covered with a hood. She smelled very strongly of church incense and she reminded me of being at Mass. She stared at me for a good while saying nothing at all and when she was done she looked down, closed her eyes and said, “Thank you Lord for helping us remove another one of these parasites from amongst your flock and oblige it in Your service,” in Bulgarian almost as bad as mine. Without thinking I hissed and lunged at her through the bars but she drew back quickly, half expecting it. She swiftly crossed herself several times and walked off without another word.
A few more days of hunger and solitude would pass before two men came to my cell. They were plainly dressed and clearly belonged to some lower working order. We did not have a common language but from their motions I could make out that they wanted me to pass my hands through the gap in the bars palms facing but I refused to indulge them. Sadly for me they were familiar with un-cooperation and were not averse to using violence to get the job done, so with a few swipes of their silver-tipped whip I relented and allowed them to tie my wrists
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