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Melissa was too exhausted to
scream. The agony of her tortured
body, especially that of her mutilated breasts had her in a state of
shock. Her body trembled
uncontrollably. She knew from
previous experience that if she was not given quick and proper medical treatment
her body would go into irretrievable
trauma. Such treatment, however,
was impossible. Her arms were
chained over her head and linked to the iron cot she had been thrown on by
the SS guards. She was surrounded
by stone walls and the massive wooden door was bound with unbreakable bands
of iron. Slowly, in spite of
her efforts to resist, she felt herself slipping into a
coma.
Dimly she was aware of a faint vibration as
of a heavy object moving on massive
rollers. The vibration increased
and with it the sound of stone grinding on
stone. A draft of cold air filled
the cell, chilling Melissa’s body even more than it already
was. And then she heard a female
voice.
Unfortunately, she did not speak enough Hungarian
or whatever it was to understand what was being said, but the horror in the
voice was clear. A few feet away
she heard Larra say something. The
girlish voice responded in a low tone.
Larra’s voice rose, becoming more
insistent. It almost sounded
as if she and the girl were arguing, and then Melissa’s strength gave
out. Darkness greater than that
of the cell swirled around her and her senses faded.
Larra could not believe what her ears were
telling her. The wall of the
cell was moving. It made no
sense. Who would build a cell
with a secret passage? And more
importantly who would be opening it?
Her second question was answered a second
later as a yellowish light shone through the light of the
passage. “Oh Lord, who would
do such a thing?”
The voice was that of Iolanda, the Romani
girl who had been captured along with her at the
barricade. How she had escaped
and what she was doing crawling about in a secret passage was something that
Larra was unable to fathom.
The light increased as Iolanda drew
closer. Larra could hear the
girl’s heavy breathing and sense her horror as she stared down upon
the Larra’s mutilated body.
The girl’s voice
trembled. “How could anyone
do such a thing to a woman?”
The light faded as the girl stepped back the way she had
come.
“No,” Larra
pleaded. “Don’t
go. You must help
us.”
The girl
stopped. “Yes,” she
said. “I must
help.” Her voice was tinged
with fear and even in her acute pain, Larra suspected that it had nothing
to do with helping her.
“My God,” the girl said
prayerfully. “The blood,
the gore.”
“You must remove the clamp,” Larra
groaned. “And then the
chains.”
“No,” the girl replied, “I
can’t do it. It’s too
horrible.”
“You must,” Larra
remonstrated. “It will be
too painful for me and I don’t have the
strength. You must do it while
I am still chained so I can’t stop you.”
“No,” repeated the girl, taking
a step back.
“Do it,” Larra ordered, her voice
almost cracking. “If you
don’t I will die and the person who sent you will be most
disappointed.”
Although Larra could not see the girl’s
face, Iolanda’s quick intake of breathe showed that her guess had been
right. Someone had arranged for
her to enter the cell. But
who? It didn’t matter if
the girl would not help, but then Iolanda approached and placing her fingers
on the clamp began to turn the screw.
It took several excruciating minutes for Iolanda
to extract the brutal and bloody screw from Larra’s
breast. She had to stop once
to vomit and twice more to regain her
nerve. It didn’t help that
Larra screamed in pain each time the screw was
rotated. She tried not to, but
lacked the strength to hold back the shrieks of
agony. She finally ordered the
girl to gag her and then writhed as the final four inches of the screw was
removed, resulting in a gush of blood from both the upper and lower wounds
in her breast.
The girl was better at stopping the flow of
blood than she was at removing the screw.
She wrapped Larra’s injured breast in a tight compression bandage
that greatly lessened the flow, even though it did not completely
stop. Then she removed the chains
from her wrists with a key that she had gotten from
somewhere. “Or someone,”
Larra thought.
But there was not time to think of
that. There was Melissa to attend
to and Larra was too weak to help.
However, the girl did something
unexpected. Placing her arm behind
Larra’s back she helped her to a sitting position and then took a small
vial from a bag that was slung around her shoulders.
“Drink this,” the girl
said.
“What is it?” Larra
asked.
“Something I was ordered to… Something
to make you feel better. Please
don’t argue. Just drink
it.”
Larra gave a metal
shrug. A physical one was just
too painful. She was so weak
the girl could have forced the contents of the vial on
her. The girl was obviously trying
to help. There was no reason
to expect that the girl would suddenly seek to betray
her.
She parted her lips and sipped from the
vial. It tasted like a high quality
vintage wine. There was something
else mixed with it as well; something vaguely familiar, but she could not
put her finger on what it was. She
swallowed the entire contents of the vial and was suddenly caught up in a
strange sensation.
Her entire body began to tingle, but especially
those areas of her anatomy that had been most
brutalized. A surge of energy
seemed to move through her injured
tissues. It was something Larra
had felt before when she had used the mysterious healing power of the gem
known as the
Eye
of Thoth. But it was
also different. The gem’s
power had seemed magical, sweeping through every part of her power with a
surge or arcane power. This sensation
was more organic, as if something had been done to her body to make it heal
itself. Whatever the situation
the result was the same. Within
seconds her wounds had healed and she felt strength return to her
body.
She staggered to her feet, a question on her
lips, but forgot about it immediately when she remembered
Melissa. Ignoring the fact that
she was still completely naked, she moved to her
friend. In short order she did
what Iolanda had been so reluctant to do, remove the clamp from her
friend’s breast. She was
aided in this by the fact that Melissa was no longer
conscious. Then she unchained
Melissa’s wrists, and lifting her into a sitting position spoke to
Iolanda. “Do you have any
more of that serum?”
The girl looked stupidly at her in the dim
light of the lantern. On her
face was a look of awestruck surprise.
Stammering, she held out another
vial. “Y…Y…Yes,
mistress.”
Larra uncorked it, and holding it to
Melissa’s lips tipped the contents into her unconscious friend’s
mouth. Melissa gasped and then
drank eagerly, her tongue almost lapping the burgundy fluid as it drained
from the vial. Still holding
her friend, Larra watched, her eyes growing in amazement as Melissa seemed
to swell under the influence of the
potion. The oozing cuts and wounds
closed, her pale skin blushed with life, and her exquisite breasts rose and
fell in a healthy rhythm.
Melissa opened her
eyes. “What happened?”
she murmured. Then she sat up
on her own and stared about her.
“Where are we?”
“I can answer the last question,”
Larra answered. “We’re
in the dungeons of Castle Rodna.
But as for what happened maybe our rescuer can tell
us.” She looked at
Iolanda.
Even in the darkness Larra could see
Iolanda’s dusky skin pale.
“No, Mistress, I can’t do
that. Please don’t make
me tell.”
Larra regarded the frightened
girl. The expression on her face
reflected such horror that she decided to press no
further. Instead she was reminded
of another feature of her predicament.
“You wouldn’t have brought any clothes by any chance?”
she asked.
“Iolanda shook her head, seemingly relieved
at the change of subject.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.
I didn’t think…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Larra
said. “Just get us out of
this cell. I’m sure Mel
and I can find a way to get something the wear.”
Iolanda did not have to be asked
twice. Ducking back into the
dark opening from which she had entered the cell, she held the lantern high
and waited for Larra and Melissa.
The two adventuresses found themselves in a dark tunnel that seemed
to run behind the bank of cells that lined the dungeon’s outer
corridor. Iolanda touched a lever
in the wall and the back of the cell swung closed, revealing seemingly unbroken
stone.
“Secret passages in dungeons,” Larra
thought. “What sort of castle
is this?”
Iolanda led them through a narrow twisting
passage. It was cold and dank,
but somehow neither woman was bothered much by the
cold. This perplexed Larra and
Melissa somewhat as it was cold enough to see their
breath. Perhaps it was part of
the after-effect of the potion they had been
given. That too was a mystery
and reflected the fact that the mission was becoming stranger and stranger
as it progressed.
Eventually the passageway began to climb finally
turning into a long set of steps.
They climbed for several minutes and then Iolanda stopped, and touching
another spot on the wall, stepped back and
waited. There was a familiar
grinding sound as the wall swung back.
A flickering light revealed a room
beyond. Ionella stepped aside
and motioned for Larra and Melissa to
proceed. Mentally shrugging and
guessing that the girl would not lead them into a trap after having just
saved their lives, Larra entered, Melissa
following.
They found themselves in a comfortable sitting
room, the flickering light coming from a cheery fireplace where logs crackled
as they burned. Larra turned
as the grinding of the stones told her that the passage was
closing. It was then that she
realized Ionella had not followed them into the
room.
“Well,” Melissa said, “I guess
we’re here for better or for worse.
I wonder where here is.”
Larra looked about
her. Except for the fireplace
the room was unlit, but it seemed quite large and contained several substantial
pieces of furniture including a large carved table on which was set a covered
server from which came the most mouth-watering aroma either woman could remember.
It suddenly occurred to both
of them that it had been several hours since they had last
eaten.
Ignoring the array of preserved meats, cheeses,
and crackers; and the several bottles of wine, Melissa removed the top of
the metal server, revealing a large joint of beef, dripping with
juices. Mouth watering, Melissa
reached for a knife to slice the meat, but before she could act Larra brushed
past her and gripping the haunch of beef simply tore it apart with her bare
hands, and began stuffing chunks of dripping meat into her
mouth.
Melissa stared uncomprehendingly at her
mentor. She and Larra had been
in a lot of places and eaten a great variety of foods, but she had never
seen Larra rip meat apart like a wild
animal. But as she watched the
violet-eyed beauty stuff the blood-red meat into her mouth, a bestial urge
swept over her. Without further
thought she emulated Larra, stuffing great chunks of dripping beef into her
mouth and tearing it apart with her perfect white
teeth.
For several minutes the two women tore into
the roast until there was little left but the
bone. Finally stuffed beyond
endurance they fell back and stared at one another
uncomprehendingly.
“What did we just do?” Larra asked
dazedly.
“I’m not sure,” Melissa replied
staring at her friend.
Larra’s mouth, chin, and breasts were slick with grease, and
she was breathing heavily, her magnificent bosom rising and falling like
a pair of over-inflated balloons.
“I think we just gorged several pounds of
meat.”
“I don’t know what came over me,”
Larra continued, wiping her dripping chin with the back of her
hand. “For a few minutes
it was as if I had become a wild beast.”
Melissa burped
loudly. “Pardon,” she
said. “That just came
out.” She regarded her greasy
hands and torso. Like Larra she
had eaten with such energy that her body was splattered with
gore.
“I’m filthy,” Melissa
continued. I could really use
a …”
Her voice trailed off
as her nose picked up a familiar scent.
“This is becoming scary,” she
commented.
Larra moved to the fireplace and picked up
a burning brand. The flickering
flame revealed a set of candles atop the heavy
table. Quickly she lit the wicks,
throwing light to most areas of the room.
She felt the hair stand up on the back of her
neck. A large covered bathtub
sat a few feet from a large four-poster bed and a most inviting aroma was
coming from it.
Larra removed the cover from the tub and was
assailed by a cloud of scented vapour.
“Someone seems to have thought of
everything.”
Melissa
nodded. “What are we going
to do?”
“I think I’ll take a bath,”
Larra sighed. “I have a
very strong suspicion we’re being watched, but we’ve been standing
nude in this room for fifteen minutes and if I’m going to be watched
I might as well be clean.”
“I’m with you on that,” Melissa
agreed. “Mind if I join
you?”
Larra
smiled. “I wouldn’t
have it any other way.”
The two women eased into the
tub. Surprisingly, the water
was still hot, almost as if it had been poured just minutes before they entered
the room. “I would say that
this was heaven,” Melissa commented, “if it wasn’t so damned
creepy.”
“Really?” Lara
responded. “What’s
creepy about being rescued from a dungeon in a gothic castle, miraculously
restored to life, and deposited in a luxurious suite full of medieval
furniture?”
“You’re right,” Melissa replied,
grinning wanly. “I’m
overreacting.” She looked
nervously about the room.
“Turn around and I’ll wash your
back,” Larra said. “If
we’re going to be watched we may as well be
washed.”
“Ha ha,” Melissa
mocked. “You’re pretty
chipper for a woman who was almost tortured to
death.”
“It’s either that or go mad,”
Larra replied seriously. She
picked up a loofah and worked it over Melissa’s long, shapely back and
then rotated in the tub so that Melissa could return the
favour.
As Melissa ran the loofah over her back
Larra’s mind buzzed. There
were simply too many strange events concerning this latest adventure going
all the way back to the assignment in
Then there were the strange events at the
castle. What were von Jagger
and Keitel up to? They seemed
nothing more than the usual brutal Nazi
thugs. And what about the strange
rescue? How had someone like
the Romani girl known about the secret
passage? And what was in the
potion she and Melissa had been given?
“What are you thinking?” Melissa
asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“I’m thinking that staying in this
room might not be in our best interests, but I don’t feel like wandering
around a castle full of Germans. I
don’t doubt that we’ve been missed by now and von Jagger has his
hounds after us.”
Melissa stood up and wrapped a towel around
herself. “I wonder if they
left out any clothing.”
“Over there,” Larra
said. She had spotted what appeared
to be a wardrobe.
Crossing the room Melissa opened it and peered
inside. “Hmm,” she
murmured. “Not exactly what
I had in mind.”
She reached into the wardrobe and pulled out
a full-length gown that seemed to have originated sometime in the early
19th century. “It
doesn’t appear that we have much choice,” she said handing a dress
to Larra. “Here, I think
this might just fit you. There
is nothing larger.”
“Thanks,” Larra
replied. “I didn’t
know I was that big.”
“Well,” Melissa said, her eyes lingering
briefly on Larra’s breasts, a sly smile stealing over her
features.
“Any undergarments?” Larra asked,
deciding to change the subject. She
couldn’t get over the feeling that every move she and Melissa made was
being observed. It was a sensation
so strong that she found her eyes darting around the room looking for hidden
spy holes in the walls.
Melissa shook her head in answer to Larra’s
question. She had noticed
Larra’s uneasiness and was becoming jittery
herself. Reaching into the wardrobe
she pulled out an ankle-length gown of blue silk that seemed designed for
a woman with an eighteen inch waist.
“I have doubts about getting this on,” she
murmured.
“There must be somewhere we can get some
less archaic clothing,” Larra
remarked. “I feel as if
I’m in a Gothic horror novel.”
Unfortunately, that proved to be not the
case. The only other items of
clothing in the room were two gossamer nightgowns that left almost event
inch of their bodies revealed. With
a sigh Larra stepped into the gown and attempted to fit it over her voluptuous
bosom.
Melissa experienced the same
difficulty. Whomever had worn
the dresses in the past was nowhere close to the height or the bust measurements
of the two modern women.
“I need a mirror,” Melissa commented,
standing before a large chest of drawers that dominated one wall of the
room.
“Strange,” Larra
said. “Everything else is
here. There is a complete set
of combs and jewellery, but no mirrors of any type to see how we look when
we are dressed.”
Melissa’s attractive brow furrowed in
thought. “You know,”
she said, “this is just like that book I was
reading. There were no mirrors
in Castle Dracula either.”
“Let\s not get too carried away,”
Larra admonished. “That is a bit too
fantastic.”
“Right,” said Melissa
drily. “In the two years
I’ve been with you we’ve never had anything unusual happen to
us.”
“I have to agree you’ve got a
point,” Larra said. She
grunted as she pulled the top of the dress over the swell of her magnificent
bosom.
Melissa was having similar difficulties, battling
with a gown that was several sizes too small for
her. Eventually after much huffing
and puffing she managed to pull the dress up high enough to partially cover
her female assets.
“Great,” she muttered, “now I’m all ready for
action.”
“Yes,” Larra nodded, looking down
at the expanse of soft flesh that bulged out of the bodice of her
gown. “These aren’t
exactly made for battling Nazis.”
“You know,” Melissa observed, “I
get the distinct feeling we’re being
manipulated. Someone had that
girl break us out of that cell.
After giving us some miraculous healing potion she leads us to this
room. Here we find food and a
warm bath, but the only clothing is some filmy night attire or these undersized
ballroom outfits.”
“I agree,” Larra
said. “But who is doing
this and was is their motivation?”
In his private study Count Rodna leaned back
before the fire. The flames were
of more use to him as light than heat and he held up his wine glass so that
the fluid within it picked up the glow of the
fire. He had helped the Romani
girl return to her cell. No suspicion
would fall upon her and for the moment he had done all he dared to help the
two English women escape the clutches of the
Nazis. If they had any brains
they would make use of the opportunity and make their way out of the castle
as soon as they were rested. Victor
would show them the way.
In the meantime he would do all he could to
delay von Jagger and Keitel in their experiments, but he would have to be
subtle. It would not do if the
Nazi thugs discovered that he was actively undermining
them.
A knock sounded at the door, but Rodna did
not even turn his eyes as Victor moved to open
it. He already knew who it
was. Von Jagger had said he would
send for him at
“The
Standartenführer wishes to see
the Count immediately.”
“The bastard could at least have the courtesy
to say, please,” thought Rodna.
After all this was his castle.
Languidly he drained his glass, knowing full well that from the open
doorway the SS guard could see him against the
fire. He would not be hurried
by scum.
Setting the glass down on the hearth he got to
his feet, and moved toward the door.
“Ah, Oberscharführer,” he
smiled. “How delightful
to see you.”
Ignoring the glower from the trumped up thug he
strode into the hallway, moving so fast that the Oberscharführer had
to run to catch up. It wasn’t
much of a victory, but it gave Rodna a small measure of pleasure to see the
man have to scramble to get ahead of him, so that he could act as
escort.
Moving through the almost dark corridors they
marched to the large room close to the dungeons where Keitel had set up his
laboratory. As expected both
the doctor and von Jagger were waiting for him there.
“Good evening, Count,” von Jagger
mocked. “So good of you
to come.”
“How much longer am I required to participate
in this humiliating ordeal?” Rodna
asked. He kept his countenance
blank in spite of an almost overwhelming desire to rip out von Jagger’s
heart and stuff it down his throat.
Or perhaps Keitel’s throat, since von Jagger probably would not
be able to appreciate such a gesture.
“Not much longer,” Keitel
answered. “My experiments
are reaching fruition. In the
meantime I require another 200 cc of blood.”
Without a word Rodna bared his
arm. After a practiced search
for a vein, Keitel expertly inserted the needle and withdrew the
plunger.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” von Jagger
grinned, twisting his monocle.
“Us getting blood from you?”
“Not at all,” Rodna replied
coolly. “I’ve always
thought of Adolf Hitler and his scum as little more than a bunch of
bloodsuckers.”
Von Jagger’s face suffused with
rage. “One day, Count you
will go too far. I have warned
you before about such language.”
Rodna
shrugged. “Before you threaten
anyone, make sure that you have the means to carry it out,
Standartenführer. I
am cooperating with you for one reason
only. Should that reason ever
disappear, be sure that I will prove a very dangerous
adversary. Now if you are finished
with me I think I will retire. The
loss of blood has left me feeling
drained.”
Ignoring the hideous pun von Jagger turned as
one of the SS guards entered the room and saluted
smartly. In spite of his military
bearing, however, the guard appeared somewhat
anxious. “What is it?”
von Jagger inquired.
“Sir, the women
prisoners. They…
They…”
“Get on with it,” von Jagger said
irritably.
“Sir, they’ve
disappeared.”
The reaction of von Jagger and Keitel was predictable
and Rodna was quietly pleased that he was there to observe
it. It took almost a full minute
for their rage to subside during which time Rodna quietly excused himself
and returned to his room. He
would have preferred to stay and make a few more acerbic comments, but decided
that perhaps he had said enough. It
was always important to know when to quit.
When he was capable of coherent speech, von Jagger
raged at the luckless messenger.
“What do you mean
‘disappeared?’ How
can they disappear from a locked and guarded cell?”
“I don’t know,
Standartenführer. When the
cell was opened to check on them it was empty.”
“Ridiculous.
They were chained to the bed and the injuries inflicted on them should
have made it impossible for them to move, much less
escape.”
“Nevertheless,” Keitel interrupted,
“it appears that they are no longer in the
cell. Either they escaped on
their own or someone helped them.
It is quite unfortunate as they would have made excellent subjects
for the next stage of my experiments.”
“Search the castle,” von Jagger
ordered.
As the SS guard left Keitel shook his
head. “I doubt that those
two women are anywhere even remotely close to
here. That changes things
again. I will have to use the
Gypsy girl.”
“Why not?” von Jagger
agreed. “But let’s
have a little fun with her first.”
Keitel smiled. Even when things seemed to go wrong there were always compensating factors.
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