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Count Rodna watched for a long time after the pathetic screams of the two women had died to whimpers. They were very still now, so still that he detected no external signs of life. He dared not act, however, not yet. Von Jagger had made clear his displeasure at the mysterious escape and miraculous recovery of the two women. There was little doubt that the Nazi commandant knew that Rodna had been behind those events.
“My dear Count,” von Jagger had hissed, “you know the arrangement
we had. A repeat of this sort
of treachery will cost you dearly.
I have contacted Gestapo headquarters in
That unpleasant interview had occurred after the destruction of Keitel’s laboratory. Rodna had seen the damage; the Nazi experiments had been set back months. Whomever these two women were, they were very good at destruction. Now, it appeared, they were near death, but as much as he wanted to save them he could do nothing until the hold von Jagger had over him was gone.
He turned from the window. It was time for him to return to his rooms. It was just possible…
Victor was waiting for him when he entered his sitting room. Without a word the retainer bowed and handed him a sealed envelope. Rodna took it, trying not to appear too eager as he took out his letter opener.
He slit the envelope neatly. If his heart had been capable of such an action it would have skipped a beat. Quickly he scanned the message.
“Dearest
Uncle,” the telegram began.
Rodna read it quickly skimming over the contents and then read it
three more times much more slowly.
He let his breath out slowly.
His niece was safe. She
had managed to get to
It was not quite as simple as he had hoped. The guard had easily been taken care of, but getting the two women down from the crosses was another matter. He had not thought to bring a ladder and he couldn’t very well climb the crosses like an ape. Then there was the matter of removing the nails. Von Jagger had hammered them though a large washer to prevent the wrists of his victims tearing away from the nails. Each nail was an eight-inch spike that had been hammered into six inches of wood. Rodna stared at the limp bodies of the two women helplessly while he tried to think of a way to remove the two women from the crosses without causing further trauma to their already tortured bodies.
Victor solved the problem for him. Unexpectedly the retainer appeared carrying a ten foot wooden ladder and a hacksaw. “I thought you might need these, master,” the servant said quietly.
Rodna nodded his thanks. He chose the younger of the two women first. Leaning the ladder against the back of the cross he climbed to the top rung. From there he could lean out and use the hacksaw to cut through the nail pinning her arm to the cross. First, however, he looped a rope just beneath her breasts to keep her from tumbling from the cross when she was freed. He had to work quickly. Von Jagger or one of his men might decide to check on the victims and then there was the matter of saving their lives. The women could not survive much longer. Even now it might be too late, but he would try to do what he could.
The girl slumped forward as he cut through the heavy nails. Using the rope he lowered her as gently as possible. A waiting Victor took her into his arms and lowered her to the ground. Then he waited while Rodna went to the cross holding the older woman. To Rodna’s amazement, she gave a low moan as he began to saw through the first nail.
Finished, he lowered her to the ground where Victor caught her. Then descending the ladder he gathered the girl into his arms and followed Victor into the castle.
He did not take the women directly to his rooms. Von Jagger would be hysterical with rage when he discovered that his victims had disappeared. He would order the entire castle searched. However, there was more than one way to get where he wanted. Just off the courtyard was the entrance to the castle chapel. He had not been in the chapel for years, but saw that Victor had maintained it as ordered. He had no trouble finding the hidden lever that revealed the staircase behind the altar. Together he and victor carried the unconscious women down the staircase, descending several levels, before they came to a stairway leading the other direction.
Effortlessly Rodna climbed the stairway, ascending numerous levels before he finally stopped. Touching a stud in the wall he waited as the counterweight opened a hidden panel in the wall. He entered the room and noted that it was as he had remembered it. He was in a small circular room as might be expected from a room located at the top of the highest tower in the castle. It was freezing cold, but there was a small fireplace and a supply of coal and kindling next to the hearth.
Victor lay the body of the older woman on the bed and then busied himself with the fire. Rodna set the girl next to her companion and then placed his head on the chest of the younger woman.
At first he heard nothing; then he detected a faint heartbeat. The girl was very near death. It would take more than a taste of his blood to revive her. He stood up. Victor had the fire going. In a few minutes the tower room would be warm enough to be comfortable. He nodded to his servant. Without a word Victor finished adding coal to the fire and left the room through the same secret passage they had used to enter the tower. The door to the tower was heavily barred. Count Rodna would not be disturbed.
Slowly he stripped off his clothing. The chill temperature of the room did not bother him, nor did the fact that the only light in the room came from the fire. He could see more than well enough to carry out what he had to do.
“The girl first,” he thought. She was barely alive and would not survive much longer. For a few seconds he gazed at the girl, taking in her shapely curves. In spite of the brutal treatment she had received she was still very beautiful. Although a few centimeters taller than he was, her breasts were full and heavy. However, he needed to see a bit more of her if he was to save her life. Gently he unbuckled her belt and removed her trousers.
His eyes flowed over her long tapering legs to the light brown triangle between her thighs. He felt his member stir into rigid hardness. Gently her parted her legs and moving slowly so as not to hurt her too badly he inserted his pulsating member between her labial lips.
The girl made no sound as he entered her, but he felt her body stiffen slightly as he began to slowly work his way into her. Her warm tightness surrounded him, and he groaned in pleasure. He tried to think of the last time he had been with a woman and the memory escaped him. His engorged phallus throbbed almost painfully as he plunged deep within her. He gasped as his pleasure grew and his excitement mounted. He could feel the girl responding to his sexual touch, her tight vagina clamping tight as he penetrated even deeper. Her breasts began to swell as the sexual stimulation spread through her body and his life-force began to flow into her.
It was well that he had fed before making his rescue attempt. He would need most of his strength to revive the two women. As the girl responded he could feel his essence flowing from his body to hers, draining his energy and restoring her life.
The girl awoke suddenly, her deep brown eyes opening wide in astonishment. Not unexpectedly, she began to struggle, but he stared into her eyes, calming her. Then he bent his head and sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her throat. The girl moaned, arching her back and wrapping her long, supple legs around his waist. Convulsively she drew him deeper, her body merging with his in complete sexual union. He felt the power of her orgasm as it ripped through her loins. With a cry of passion he released into her spurting his sterile seed into her womb.
The girl collapsed, blood trickling from the tiny wounds in her throat. Her body was whole again, but completely exhausted. She lay with eyes closed her breasts rising and falling as she slipped deeper and deeper into the sleep of sexual collapse.
Reluctantly the Count rose from her sweat-covered body. He knew from experience that she would sleep for hours, but there was no rest for him yet. The other woman waited, her tortured body still unhealed.
Rodna took the time to wash first, removing the traces of his lovemaking and giving himself time to recover. It had been many years since he had experienced such sexual passion and he suspected that the older woman was going to be at least as sexually demanding.
Moving to the fire he added more coal to the glowing embers and then turned to his not unpleasant task.
Larra awoke from a sleep so deep that she was not quite sure that she was truly awake. It was as if she was at the bottom of a well and was rising through waters so deep that it seemed she would never reach the surface. She had been having the most amazing dream; a dream so real that she almost believed it if it had not been so fantastic. Then she remembered Keitel’s notes and von Jagger’s cruel punishment. She broke out into a cold sweat.
She looked about her. She was in a small dark room that was lit only by the glowing coals of a fireplace and a single candle. There were windows in the room, but they were heavily shuttered and admitted no light.
She was lying on a bed and next to her was Melissa. The girl was sleeping peacefully, her breathing quiet and regular. Larra pulled the woolen blanket on the bed over her to quiet her shivering and tried to think.
Had what happened really happened? Her memories were confused and incomplete. She had a vivid recollection of the pain of the crucifixion, but could make very little sense out of what she could recall after that.
She remembered a man. He was of normal height, but seemed immensely strong. More to the point she remembered that he and she had made love for most of the night. The problem was she had not the faintest idea who he was, nor could she understand how she could have made love to anyone after being crucified.
Was it all part of some fantastic dream? She pulled the blanket tighter around her and held out her arm. If the muted light of the candle she could just make out the faint mark where the nail had pierced her flesh. She shuddered and looked at the hollow of her breasts. There was a faint outline in the shape of a swastika.
Tentatively she touched her throat. Her fingers could detect two tiny half-healed wounds. A shiver ran down her spine and her gut clenched in fear. Reaching out she pulled the blanket away from Melissa’s throat. Two small red dots about two inches apart ornamented the smooth skin of her throat.
She calmed herself. What had
Keitel’s notes revealed? She
had dismissed them as the scribbled ravings of a lunatic, but they made sense
now. The Nazi scientist was working
on a way to give soldiers healing powers that would make them invincible
in battle and he had come to
Her thoughts returned to her confused dream. She was almost certain that it was not a dream now. She and Melissa had been scourged, branded, and crucified. They should both be dead. But she could remember making love to a tall, dark-haired man and could recall the incredible orgasmic surge as her body had healed. She had been saved by a vampire, a vampire who had transferred his strength to her through the act of love.
Beside her Melissa stirred, a low moan issuing from her lips. Her eyes opened and looked about her in some confusion. Then she spotted Larra and smiled, however, it was not the friendly grin that the Canadian girl usually displayed. “What happened?” she murmured. “Why are we still alive?”
“I’m not sure myself,” Larra replied. “Do you remember anything?”
“I remember…” Melissa began and then stopped, a look of confusion spreading over her face.
“I don’t think it was a dream,” Larra said. She pointed to the two small indentations on her own throat.
Involuntarily Melissa’s fingers went to the same spot on her own throat. She coloured. “But that would mean…”
“I’m not sure what you call it,” Larra interrupted. “But I think we had sex with a vampire. Whether or not it was rape depends on your point of view. It certainly was not consensual, but it probably saved our lives.”
“It makes sense now what Keitel and von Jagger were up to. They hope to use vampirism to make their soldiers invincible.”
“So somewhere in the castle there is a vampire. Someone we haven’t met.”
“Oh,” Larra replied, “I think we’ve met alright.”
“Yes,” Melissa said thoughtfully. Her nether region throbbed slightly reminding her of the culmination of her latest adventure. She slid off the bed, clutching her blanket. “I think we better find a way out of here.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Larra agreed. “You feel up to it?”
“Except for a slight soreness, I feel fine.”
“I know what you mean,” Larra said. She also got to her feet and began to look around the dimly lit room.
“What is this with our clothing?” she asked. “It’s bad enough we are continually stripped, but couldn’t our clothes be left behind occasionally?”
“To hell with this,” Melissa said angrily. She began to shred her blanket. A few seconds later Larra followed suit.
“The height of fashion,” Melissa commented looking at the serape she had put together. Larra was similarly dressed. They both wore a blanket with a hole torn through the centre for their heads. It hung down in front and back and was cinched in at the waist with strips torn from a pillow case. It left their arms and legs bare, but it was the best they could do with the materials available. They had managed to fold a few pieces of cloth into makeshift slippers. They would not last long, but they were hoping to come across something better later.
“Now we just have to find a way out of here,” Larra said, crossing to the door. She threw back the bolt and attempted to open it.
“Why am I not surprised that it is locked on both sides?” she asked.
Melissa began to scout around the rest of the room, pushing on anything that looked like a button or lever.
“Wait a sec, dear,” Larra said. “Let’s see if we can’t do this scientifically.” She picked up a poker from the fireplace and began to methodically tap the walls. Melissa nodded in understanding, and picking up a candlestick began to work her way around in the opposite direction.
In the small room it took only a minute to locate a section of the wall that gave forth a hollow sound and another fifteen minutes in the dimly lit room for Larra to locate the hidden catch that opened a wall panel.
“What’s a vampire’s castle without a few dozen secret passages?” Melissa asked.
They stepped through the panel and found themselves at the top of a dark, narrow staircase. Melissa went back and fetched the candle. Holding the candle in one hand and the poker in the other, Larra started down the stairs followed by Melissa.
The Canadian girl held the candlestick in her right hand. She smiled slightly at the thought of two of the most highly trained women in the world being armed with nineteenth century hardware.
The hidden stairway was unlit and descended steadily into darkness. Larra counted the steps as she went in an attempt to judge how far she had descended. She counted over three hundred steps and was still going down. “I think we may have missed the way out,” she said. “No doubt the way was hidden like the entrance.”
“Should we go back?” asked Melissa.
“I don’t think so,” Larra replied. “I really don’t think it would be a good idea to be there when the vampire who put us in that room comes back.”
Melissa nodded. The thought of what had happened to her sent chills down her spine. It was one thing to be rescued from hideous torture, but it was quite another to be ravished in order to be restored to life. The two pin-marks on her neck throbbed as she thought about it.
“Down it is then,” Larra said. She continued her descent.
The dark stairway seemed to have no end. “We must be well below the foundations of the castle,” Larra ventured. “I’ve counted past seven hundred steps.”
“If we don’t come to something soon,” Melissa replied, “we’ll have to turn back. The candle is almost gone and I don’t fancy climbing all those steps in the dark.”
Larra nodded, although there was some doubt that Melissa saw it in the wavering light of the candle. She was becoming distinctly uncomfortable as she descended into the darkness and it was not just the fact that she was deep without the bowels of the earth. As an archeologist she had often been in dark gloomy places, but there was something about this descent into the bowels of the castle that made her increasingly uneasy.
She looked at the stub of candle that Melissa held. “Alright, we’ve got to go back. The light won’t last much longer.”
It galled her to have to admit defeat. She had really hoped that the stairway might lead somewhere significant, but if it did, she had obviously missed the hidden panel that opened from it.
“Wait,” Melissa said. “What’s that?” She pointed with the candle toward something in the darkness.
Larra followed her gaze. In a sconce on the wall was what was left of an ancient torch. It seemed unlikely that it would still burn, but it was worth a try. She lifted it from the sconce and waited while Melissa held the candle flame to it.
To Larra’s surprise the torch burst into flame, giving off an oily light. They could now go on, at least for a few more minutes. There was no telling how long the smoking torch would last. Slowly they continued their wearying climb down the stairs. Each step down reminded Larra that they would have a long climb back to the tower room if they did not find anything at the bottom.
“If there is a bottom,” Larra muttered. She continued her downward spiral and then stopped. She had come to the end of the staircase.
“This is impressive,” Melissa commented. Both women stood at the bottom of the staircase. Before them the dim spiral tunnel suddenly widened into a spectacular doorway. It was constructed of crudely fitted stone blocks, curved into a Roman arch about twice Melissa’s height. Centred in the arch was a massive oak door, studded with heavy metal bolts.
Larra stepped forward and studied the heavy metal lock. “Crude but effective,” she said. “If I had proper tools I’d have if open in a minute, but unfortunately…”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was incredibly frustrating to have walked down hundreds of steps only to come up against what appeared to be a dead end. She looked about for something that might help. She did not relish the idea of having to complete the long climb back to the tower where she and Melissa would still be trapped.
“May I borrow the poker?” Melissa asked
Raising one elegant eyebrow Larra handed the heavy metal fire iron to Melissa. Without a word Melissa stepped back and swung the poker wide arc, hammering it into the heavy lock. With a clang the faceplate of the lock shattered, exposing the inner mechanism.
Larra looked at Melissa in astonishment. The girl smiled. “Sometimes the direct approach is the most successful. I thought it looked somewhat corroded.”
With the inner lock exposed, it was but the matter of a few moments to unlock the rusted locking mechanism. Gripping one of the huge iron rings Larra braced herself and with Melissa’s help pulled hard on the heavy door.
The door swung ponderously open; iron hinges that had not been moved in decades, screaming in protest. The room beyond smelled of the dust of centuries, mingled with a vague sense of decay. Larra raised the torch and peered into the gloom. Stepping forward she crossed the threshold, pushing back the darkness that filled the room.
Both women held their breath. They were in a huge vault lined with row upon row of sarcophagi. “My Lord,” Larra said. “This must be the castle burial vault. There must be centuries of bodies here.”
Hesitatingly they moved between the rows of stone tombs stepping softly through the thick coating of dust. They stopped in the middle of the room. Larra shuddered. She was overcome by a feeling that was beyond anything she had ever experienced when entering previous burial sites. Her archeological career had seen her enter many tombs, but she had never experienced anything quite like the cold chill that swept over her.
She looked at Melissa and saw her companion shiver. “Do you feel it?” she asked.
Melissa nodded. Cold chills were traveling up and down her spine. “There seems to be something here. Some sort of ominous presence.”
“I thought I might be imagining it,” Larra said. “I’ve been in a lot of tombs, but I’ve never felt anything quite like this.” She ran her fingers over the goose bumps on her arms.
“Melissa held the stump of a candle she had been saving to the torch. She had spotted something that might help to dispel the gloom. Along one side of the crypt was a row of ornate candle holders, each containing a large taper. Holding her candle to the wick of each of the larger candles she lit them one after the other until the entire row was glowing, throwing a flickering light to all corners of the crypt.
The increased light help to dispel the gloom of the tomb, but did nothing for the eerie sensation that prickled both Larra’s and Melissa’s skin. Slowly they wended their way between the rows of sarcophagi, looking briefly at each one. As they did so the oppressive feeling increased.
“Something’s not right about this place,” Melissa said quietly. “I feel almost as if we are being watched.”
Larra nodded her agreement. She had the definite feeling that this was not the place for two unarmed women wearing nothing but blankets, but her explorer’s instinct would not let her leave until she learned all she could about this mysterious place. Somewhere in this dismal and forbidding room was part of the answer to the riddle of why Taggart had sent her on the mission.
“Jesus, what is that!” The cry came from Melissa, but Larra had felt it too. Her skin was suddenly wet with sweat. An overwhelming feeling of naked horror swept over her. She stopped, fighting back the urge to turn and flee in terror.
They had reached the end of the crypt. Larra and Melissa were standing in front of an ornately carved stone wall. The fearing of impending doom was almost crushing and it was emanating directly from the stonework in front of them.
Melissa backed away. “I think we’ve seen enough,” she gasped. “Let’s get out of here.”
But Larra was not moving. She stood transfixed in front of the wall, her gaze glued to the elaborate carvings. “I can read this,” she murmured. “It’s classical Greek.”
“What?” Melissa breathed. She was having a hard time breathing.
“It’s Greek,” Larra repeated dreamily. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, and was running her fingers slowly over the stonework.
“It’s some sort of warning,” she continued. “No, not exactly a warning. More like a set of instructions.”
“Come away, Larra,” Melissa pleaded. The sense of dread was increasingly as Larra’s sensitive fingers flowed over the stone.
“No,” Larra answered, “I have to figure this out. There is something I am supposed to do.”
Melissa turned back and grabbed Larra’s arm. “Come,” she said insistently. “We’ve got to leave.”
There was a slight click, followed by a low rumble. “Got it,” Larra exclaimed in triumph.
“Oh no,” Melissa moaned. The room quaked as the wall split down the middle revealing a dark hole. From within radiated a sense of pure evil.
Victor listened at the tower doorway. There was no sound from the tower room; no doubt the two English women were asleep. Just to be sure though he listened for a further five minutes before sliding back the bolt on the door. Then he used a hidden stud to move back the bolt inside the door. Again there was not a sound from inside the room. The women were probably sleeping soundly, recovering from their horrific ordeal.
Carefully he pushed the door open and holding up the candle peered into the room. He stared in disbelief. The bed was unoccupied. He stepped into the centre of the room and stared in incredulity into the dark well of the staircase. “Impossible,” he thought. “Surely they didn’t go down there.” What sort of women were they? Why could they not learn to stay put? His master would not be pleased. Twice his master had risked everything to save them and now twice they had betrayed his trust. He strode to the top of the staircase and peered into the darkness. Surely they would not have descended all the way to the crypt? What were they thinking? Well, at least they wouldn’t be able to get past the door to the crypt. Would they?
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