Carmilla’s Lament: A Vampire Tale
By Catherine Grey & J.S. LeFanu
Smashwords Edition
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Chapter 1
An Early Fright
Not far from Vienna, we, though by no means a magnificent family, inhabit a castle. A small income, in this part of the world, goes a great way. Eight or nine hundred a year does wonders for the properly modest family. Across the sea this small income would scarcely cover the expenses of a carriage and four but here we are considered quite wealthy. My father is English, and though I bear an English name, I have never seen England. But here, in this lonely and primitive place, where everything is so marvelously cheap, I really don't see how ever so much more money would at all materially add to our comforts, or even luxuries.
My father had been in the Austrian service until three years ago whereupon he retired with a small pension and his patrimony. He purchased this feudal residence, and the small estate on which it stands, at a great bargain which pleased him immensely. Nothing could have been more picturesque or solitary. It stands on a slight eminence deep in the forest. The road, very old and narrow, passes in front of its drawbridge, never raised in my time. The surrounding moat is stocked with perch and sailed over by many black swans among soft white fleets of water lilies. Over all this the castle shows its many-windowed front; its towers, and its brooding Gothic chapel.
The forest opens into an irregular and very sunny glade before its gate, and at the right a steep Gothic bridge carries the road over a stream that winds in deep shadow through the ancient trees. I have said that this is a very lonely place. Judge whether or not I speak the truth. Looking from the hall door towards the road, the forest in which our castle stands extends fifteen miles to the right, and twelve to the left. The nearest inhabited village is about seven miles to the left and on a nice summer day is a good stretch of the legs. The nearest inhabited estate of any historic associations, is that of old Woden Hall nearly twenty miles away to the right.
I have said "the nearest inhabited village," because there is, only three miles westward, that is to say in the direction of Woden Hall, a ruined village, with its quaint little church, now roofless, in the aisle of which are the moldering tombs of the proud family of Karnstein, now extinct, who once owned the equally desolate chateau which, in the thick of the forest, overlooks the silent ruins of the town. Respecting the cause of the desertion of this striking and melancholy spot, there is a legend which I shall relate to you another time.
I must tell you now, how very small is the party who constitute the inhabitants of our castle. I don't include servants, or those dependents who occupy rooms in the buildings attached to the estate. My father, who is the kindest man on earth, but growing old; and I, at the date of my story, only nineteen comprise our tiny family. My mother died before I learned to walk, but I had a good-natured governess, who had been with me from, I might almost say, my infancy. I could not remember the time when her round gentle face was not a familiar picture in my memory.
There was Madame Perrodon, a native of Berne, whose care and good nature brought a mothers comfort to me after the loss of my own, whom I do not even remember, so early she in my life she went to God. Madame made a third at our little dinner party.
There was a fourth, Mademoiselle De Lafontaine, a lady such as you term, I believe, a "finishing governess." She spoke French and German, Madame Perrodon French and broken Italian, to which my father and I added English, which, partly to prevent its becoming a lost language among us, and partly from patriotic motives, we spoke it daily. The consequence was a verbal mishmash, at which strangers used to laugh, and which I shall make no attempt to reproduce in this narrative. And there were two or three young lady friends besides, pretty nearly of my own age, who were occasional visitors, for longer or shorter terms; and these visits I sometimes returned.
These were our regular social resources; but of course there were chance visits from neighbors of only five or six leagues distance. My life was, notwithstanding, rather a solitary one, I can assure you.
My governesses had just so much control over me as you might conjecture such sage persons would have in the case of a rather spoiled girl, whose only parent allowed her pretty nearly her own way in everything.
The first occurrence in my existence, which produced a terrible impression upon my mind, which, in fact, never has been effaced, was one of the very earliest incidents of my life which I can recollect. Some people will think it so trifling that it should not be recorded here. You shall see however, by-and-by, why I mention it.
The nursery, as it was called, though I had it all to myself, was a large room in the upper story of the castle, with a steep oak roof. I can't have been much more than six years old, when one night I awoke, and looking round the room from my bed, failed to see the nursery maid. Neither was my nurse there; and I thought myself alone. I was not frightened, for I was one of those happy children who are studiously kept in ignorance of ghost stories, fairy tales, and of all such lore as makes us cover up our heads when the door cracks suddenly, or the flicker of an expiring candle makes the shadow of a bedpost dance upon the wall, nearer to our faces.
I was vexed and insulted at finding myself, alone and neglected. I began to whimper, preparatory to a hearty bout of roaring; when to my surprise, I saw a solemn, but very elegant face looking at me from the side of the bed. It was that of a young lady who was kneeling, with her hands under the coverlet. I looked at her with a kind of pleased wonder, and ceased whimpering. She caressed me with her hands, so warm and soft and lay down beside me on the bed, then drew me towards her, smiling; I felt immediately delightfully soothed, and fell asleep again.
Sometime after I was awakened by a sensation most painful as if two needles ran deeply into my breast at the same moment, and I cried out in shock. The lady started back, with her eyes fixed on me, luminous and cat like in the dark. Then without a sound she slipped down upon the floor, and, as I wondered what she would do next, hid herself under the bed.
I was now for the first time frightened, and I yelled with all my might. Nurse, nursery maid, housekeeper, all came running in, and hearing my story, they made light of it, soothing me all they could meanwhile. Child that I was, I could still perceive that their faces were pale and tight with an unwanted look of anxiety. I saw them look under the bed, and about the room, and peep under tables and pluck open cupboards only to find what was expected.
Then the housekeeper whispered to the nurse: "Lay your hand along that hollow in the bed; someone did lie there, as sure as you did not; the place is still warm to the touch."
I remember the nursery maid petting me, and all three examining my chest, where I told them I felt the puncture, and pronouncing that there was no sign visible that any such thing had happened to me.
The morning after I saw this apparition I was in a state of terror. Trembling and fearful I could not bear to be left alone, daylight though it was, for even a single moment. I remember my father coming up and standing at the bedside, and talking cheerfully, and asking the nurse a number of questions, and laughing very heartily at one of the answers; and patting me on the shoulder, and kissing me, and telling me not to be frightened, that it was nothing but a dream and could not hurt me.
The housekeeper and the two other servants who were in charge of the nursery, remained sitting up all night; and from that time a servant always sat up in the nursery until I was nearing the age of sixteen.
But in truth I was not comforted, for I knew the visit of the strange woman was not a dream; and I was awfully frightened. I was slightly consoled by the nursery maid's assuring me that it was she who had come and looked at me, and lain down beside me in the bed, and that I must have been half-dreaming not to have known her face. But this assurance, though supported by the nurse, did not quite satisfy me.
The skin just above my heart still felt tender and warm to the touch. Even as a small child I wondered how that could be? Did not the sensations of a dream fade with the morning light? For I remembered with startling detail my night visitors face and it was nothing like the rounded, freckled face of my nurse maid with her warm amber eyes.
I remembered, in the course of that day, a venerable old man, in a black cassock, coming into the room with the nurse and housekeeper. Talking a little to them, and very kindly to me; his face sweet and gentle, he said they were going to pray for me.
Then he joined my hands together, and desired me to say, softly, while they were praying, "Lord hear all good prayers for us, for Jesus' sake."
I think these were the very words, for I often repeated them to myself, and my nurse cautioned me for years to say them in my prayers. I remember so well the thoughtful sweet face of that white-haired old man. His black cassock draped about him, as he stood in that rude, lofty, brown room, with the clumsy furniture of a fashion three hundred years old.
The scanty light entering its shadowy atmosphere, dancing with motes of dust in the breeze through the small lattice as his soft words calmed me. He kneeled, and the three women with him, and he prayed aloud with an earnest quavering voice for, what appeared to me, a long time.
I forget all my life preceding that event, and for some time after my memories remained also obscured, but the scenes I have just described stand out vivid as the isolated pictures of the phantasmagoria surrounded by endless darkness.
Chapter 2
Moonlit Dreams of Darkness
During my eighteenth summer, father deemed it no longer necessary for me to have a night watch in the form of nurse or servant. Yet it was only at the start of the next cool spring as I neared my nineteenth birthday that the dreams began anew. I could not imagine speaking of them to father as the subject matter would have alarmed him unnecessarily. He was growing frail with age and I feared my overly active nocturnal imagination would hasten his decline. Then there was also the consideration of my impending women-hood; should father feel I was not in the best of health he may decide to delay seeking a suitable companion as husband for me. So I kept my secret close to my heart just under the warm spot on my skin where I had felt that phantom bite so many years ago.
Even so, there were times when the staff would comment to father about the periodic mornings when they would find me in such a disheveled state; nearly naked and in a stupor that father expressed his concern about my situation and bemoaned the loss of my mother for he was sure she would have known what to do. He grew convinced that the source of my night terrors; for that is what he called them had to do with the nursery. He directed me to choose any room in the castle for my new bedroom and gave me a generous allowance with which to decorate it.
I spent weeks pouring over ideas for my new chamber. First I toured all the unused rooms on the upper most floors in the castle seeking furniture that I might like and also to please my father by not over-extending my funds. Each day I emerged dusty and tousled for lunch where the ladies would bemoan my state and father would chuckle at his intrepid daughter’s excursions. Once I had selected a massive dark oak bedstead found in a corner room which appeared not to have been entered in a generation the rest of my choices followed in less than a fortnight. I quickly located chests, cabinets and trunks to house my belongings. Everything was placed in the center hall until it could be properly cleaned.
On a rainy Saturday I approached father in the study; he was deeply engrossed in the estate accounts and took no notice of me at first. I wandered around wondering if I should intrude since I had a question for him that required permission for me to act.
After much sighing, he finally laughed and pushed down his glasses.
“What now my daughter, have you found some other relic that you must have but it’s in a shop window?”
I tried a pout as if I’d been insulted but he saw through my charade and laughed all the more.
“Well speak girl and tell me what’s on your mind that has you in such high spirits.”
I stood before his desk and blurted out in a most unlady-like fashion, “Tapestries, I have found two in my travels amongst the dust and wish to have them cleaned and hung in my room. I’ve not seen them before but they are beautiful and would do much to warm the room during the winter.”
I waited rocking on my toes for I knew the cost of cleaning and repairing them could be far more than my allowance would cover.
Father looked again at the papers spread across his blotter, and then his eyes slowly searched my face.
“Dearest to my heart, let us go together and have a look at these necessary tapestries and see if they are worthy enough to justify the lightening of my purse.”
I clapped my hands in delight for I knew that once he saw them he would be unable to leave them rotting in the dark. As he came around the desk I reached for his hand and squeezed it in familial happiness. How lucky a daughter was I, to have such a father, patient, wise and indulgent; he was ever one to encourage my learning and supported my restless mind. I knew he would be as thrilled with my discovery as I.
We took an eternity to arrive on the fourth floor; endless stairs took their toll on father’s stamina and I had not the heart to hurry him further despite my excitement. Finally we arrived and paused to slow our breathing at the landing. Father peered into the gloom and asked, “What on earth possessed you to come all the way up here? This lonesome place has not seen the passage of servants in decades. I don’t even know if this part of the house is safe for habitation.”
I shrugged off his concerns and with the utmost assurance stated, “I have been in this hall and its rooms for the past three days Papa. I have not seen anything untoward nor felt myself fearful for my safety.”
Grinning at him I pointed to the door half way down the hall where my precious tapestries awaited his examination.
“Come dear Father and you shall see why I beg your indulgence.”
The window at the end was totally obscured with dirt and it cast the hall in grubby twilight. Sounds were hushed here and it felt as if we were alone in the world for this brief moment in time. We walked together as he told me that many years before when the castle was full of servants; this had been the floor where they resided. Long ago this castle supported a large family and the number of servants needed to care for them and their guests had filled the halls. Sadly such was not our situation. Fifty servants were no longer required for we were a family of two and father did not host hunts or balls; most of our servants had taken up residence in the larger guest rooms in the third floor hall. Outside of my old nursery none of the rooms on the upper most floors had heard a maids giggle in a century or more.
Father was a most considerate person and saw no reason to house the servants in small wind-blown rooms when so many others went begging for an occupant. It was a tidy arrangement; Cook and her husband had rooms off the kitchen, while the rest slept in chambers located opposite of the central hall.
Periodically he drew to a halt testing a latch to see if it would yield to his hand. Poking his head through a few doors and finding himself beset with sneezing he remarked “How very odd this all is. I had no idea we had such a surplus of furniture.”
It seemed many of the rooms had been converted to storage so long ago he had no idea what was in them. He had received an inventory upon the purchase of the estate and its holdings but had not troubled himself or the servants to tackle this area. His only concern had been that the supports and roof were sound. Prior to my parents’ arrival he had sent some of the footmen to ensure that there were no leaks or crumbling supports but had issued no orders beyond that. He laughing confessed that after all the years we had lived here this was his first trip to the abandoned uppermost floor of the castle.
Midway along the hall we came to a giant set of double oak doors; black with age and the latches nearly rusted shut with disuse.
“Here it is,” I declared with a ringing tone of excitement. “This room is filled with remnants of what the former owners treasured enough to keep but for some reason abandoned. Furniture, tapestries and boxes filled with ladies dresses; although so out of fashion I would hesitate to bother having them cleaned.”
I shoved open the heavy doors and proudly turned to him, “there is even more to discover in here that I have not been able to reach.”
He followed me in looking around him at the piles of unknown shapes hidden under massive dusty clothes. “Tis amazing Papa, yesterday I even discovered a packet of letters but they were so brittle I could not make out the writing. When I attempted to discern their contents they crumbled into ash.”
I wondered aloud who the author had been and why her letters were left here. He looked surprised that so many personal items had been left without care.
“Have you any idea of the author my dear?”
“No all I could make out was the year; 1670, it must have been some type of tragedy befalling the family to have shut away letters and clothes like that. One would think that the lady author would have despaired of their loss.”
“Ah and how have you come to the conclusion that the author was a lady?”
“The letters were tied up in aged ribbons and all the clothing I have found suggest a young woman wore them. I surmised that the items were related by ownership.”
My eyes dropped down and I realized I was fingering one of the fine brocade sleeves dropping from the edge of an open chest. Sighing with the potential romance of it all I found myself lost in the possibility of some epic Shakespearean tragedy that driven the family to seal off their beloved’s effects over two hundred years ago. I was pulled back from my wool-gathering as father piped up.
“My brilliant girl you are most likely right, now show me these tapestries that have so enflamed you.”
I turned and picked my way along the near wall until I reached a large wardrobe. Propped along the floor next to it were the rolled tapestries. They were too heavy for me to drag to where father stood gazing about him with an air of bemused contemplation. In my haste I did not wait for him to join me but simply unrolled part of the nearest one to show him the brilliant colors now muted with age.
As he walked over he was taking note of the size of the room and how it was nearly packed with shrouded images.
“I imagine we should have some of the stronger footmen go through these rooms. I am quite sure there are items we could donate to some of the estate households for their benefit.”
I crouched down and pointed out the leaves and trees that were visible. Golden threads picked out rays of light and the remainder we could see was just as detailed. Father reached down and began to tug; after a bit of exertion on both our parts we had managed to unroll more than half it.
It was a forest scene in which a young girl was petting a unicorn while hunters hid in the foliage. I tore my eyes from the image before me and sought out his reaction. Would he approve? Would he allow the expense needed in restoring the old threads that might have come undone? I could feel my tense shallow breathing and wished he would say something; anything to let me know if he approved or not.
His eyes smiled and he said, “My child this piece is centuries old, perhaps even medieval but no doubt it is well worth the cost of possible repairs. The myth depicted here is beyond ancient. Only a virgin pure of heart, body and soul could call the elusive unicorn to her aid but even then neither is safe from evil. One must always be vigilant and never feel any sympathy for the devil.”
I was nodding in agreement when I felt the oddest sensation. Not frightening, just a queer skip of my heart as if for the briefest of moments it had stuttered of its own accord. Thankfully father had turned back to gazing around him as he made his pronouncement and had not noticed my odd behavior. Tossing my head like a nervous colt I shook myself free of the disquiet I felt and rushed to stand with Papa.
He kissed my forehead and petted my hand then told me not to concern myself the tapestries would be cared for at once. Father agreed to have two footmen bring the tapestries down onto main floor. They would be brought outside to the bricked area off the kitchen for a preliminary cleaning. Then we would be able to determine if further restoration was needed.
That night I wondered what we would find the next day once the tapestries were moved. I had only been able to see a corner of the bottom tapestry and had no true notion of what image was woven through it. Father had suggested the servants not be dispatched to move them until morning when he hoped the rain would cease.
As he said, “It would not be prudent to allow rain to damage them further. They have waited all these many years; another day will not bother them.”
During dinner the conversation revolved around the room I had found and the mystery owner who once cherished the things in it. It was enough of a curiosity that I was able to engage the assistance of Madame Perrodon and Mademoiselle De Lafontaine the following day to assist me further in my exploration.
The next day dawned favorably with clear skies and warm breezes which meant after breakfast we could start exploring further. I went into the kitchen to pick up the basket I had previously arranged from cook. Hefting it off the small side table I was delighted to realize it would feed the three of us without the need to make the lengthy trek back through the castle for lunch. Even more important we would not have to change for lunch and again for dinner. I fully expected we would be quite dirty after a day spent exploring. Hearing my name uttered in a questioning fashion I blushed hotly when I realized that the tables along the back wall were filled with male staff eating their breakfast.
So intent was I on gripping the basket without pausing to look up I had taken no notice the room was not empty. Thomas the most handsome of the footman nodded to me and wished me a good morning. “We shall be up shortly to fetch the tapestries young Miss and you need not worry as we shall be most careful with them.”
I thanked him and Cook for their assistance and enjoined them to finish their meal in comfort. I realized as I retreated with flaming cheeks that Father and I were a most fortunate family in our staff; for they were trustworthy, kind and even more important they seemed genuinely fond of both of us.
Unlike some homes I had visited where servants were treated as invisible unless a mistake was made, my father preferred to treat them as he would junior clerks who had once worked for him at the ministry. They were well cared for, well fed, treated with affection and when no longer able to earn a salary due to age or infirmary he ensured for their comfort within the estate holdings. None would be turned out to fend alone or become a burden to poor relatives. He even refused to dismiss an upstairs maid when it became known she was with child. Poor chit! The girls husband had absconded with their meager wedding gifts leaving her alone and penniless.
I recall it was my tenth summer when this happened but I remember it as if it was yesterday. Seeing the poor girl weeping as she completed her tasks, telling no one of her heartache and fears; I had gone to Father and told him that something was dreadfully wrong with Marie and I wanted him to fix her so that she would smile again. Like all children who look up to their fathers. I believed my papa could solve any trouble within our home. I recall sitting in the garden with my nurse when Father came roaring out of the castle. Shouting like a man possessed he called for his horse.
Yet I could not understand why he should be so violent in his actions. Father would not even allow spurs to be used on his mounts yet I had seen with my own eyes as he gave a hard kick to Goliaths ribs with the heels of his boots. Spinning his horse away from the house cursing in such a fashion my ears burned as he galloped towards the bridge. I had never seen him before in such a state and wondered what had caused it. His obvious anger frightened me and I began to weep; not knowing why. Tears of dismay and confusion rolled down my cheeks as nurse tried to assure me that all would be well.
She hugged me close and said, “Your father is a good man, a kind man, if he is angry there is cause for it. Don’t worry any more for I am sure you will see him tonight and he will be much the same as always.”
I waited all day for his return, constantly peering out the windows to watch for his arrival. Eventually he arrived at a canter, dismounted and spoke to the head groom. I ran out to greet him and threw myself into his arms.
“Ah daughter, how good of you to welcome me home” he said in a tone that rang of false cheer. “I shall need to take care of some estate business before dinner, so be a good girl and tell Cook I have returned.”
He patted me on the head and gave me a gentle shove to send me on my way. I sensed something wrong but did as I was bid. Trudging off to the kitchen I realized he had not included his usual order to avoid pestering everyone with my curiosity which gave me leave to ferret out what I could. I understood this to be an opportunity which in my good conscience gave me free rein to pester at will.
However I had no luck in the kitchen for the adults present refused to answer my questions about Marie. It was only at dinner that father finally addressed the tension rolling through the castle.
“Daughter I wanted to tell you that I am pleased you showed such concern for Marie.”
He sighed deeply and looked at the footmen, butler and cook who lingered along the wall. His eyes rested then on the four of us seated at the table.
“You should know that Marie will be blessing the castle with a child and that we should all say prayers for her safe delivery. She is a member of this estate and will be treated as such. Her sister lives nearby within the estate grounds and will help care for the child. Marie will continue to work however she will confine herself to the lower levels. I would not have her risk her health on the stairs. If she should decide to marry again we shall provide a suitable dowry for her. I shall not speak further on this matter.”
I heard Cook stifle a sob of gratitude; she then bobbed a courtesy and excused herself back into the kitchen. Remembering poor Marie gave me a renewed sense of purpose. What if the letter writer had been a girl callously abandoned by her betrothed? Had she died of a broken heart? Was that why her parents had shut up all her belongings and left them behind? Had the tapestries been her favorites and once hung in her bedchamber? I hoped to learn more before the day was out.
Two weeks later I heard the carriage rumble across the bridge as I was reading nearby with Mademoiselle de Lafontaine who labored diligently correcting my French pronunciation.
I laid my book in her hands and shouted “They are here, arrived safely and now we shall see them anew!”
I pulled on her arm in my haste and begged her to hurry with me.
“Please we must be quick. I want to see them before they are hung in my new chamber.”
Gracious woman that she was, she laughed and raced along with me. We arrived nearly breathless and a bit wild looking from our speedy passage across the lawn. It minutes we were standing before the castle entrance as the driver called a halt to his horses. Father came out and with greetings exchanged offered refreshment to the driver and his two horses. Mr. Statz was pleased to accept a cold drink for them all and laughed when grooms appeared with water buckets and nosebags for his animals.
Grinning with pleasure he chortled, “Ah my Lord you will spoil us all with your hospitality.” Bending at the waist he threw out his left arm and drew off the corner of the burlap covering that shielded his cargo.
“I believe the young miss will be greatly pleased with my work. I have brought you the tapestries and they are magnificent. The color has been restored and all damage has been repaired. They are ready for your inspection of course.”
I could barely contain my excitement as the tapestries were unloaded and carried into the main hall. Each one was carefully slipped from its protective shroud. The first I saw was the forest scene with the Virgin radiant against the white unicorn. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. Father pronounced himself well pleased with work of Mr. Statz and we both wondered aloud what the next tapestry would reveal. Smiling at us both in recognition of our pleasure with his expert craftsmanship he whispered in a reverential tone.
“My Lord, young Miss this next tapestry is beyond compare I should not be surprised to find it’s like hanging in the Pope’s chambers. Tis a rare jewel that you found moldering and I’m greatly pleased to have been given the commission to restore it to its proper glory.”
Mr. Statz stepped forward and began unrolling the woolen treasure and I leaned around him trying to understand what I was seeing. Ground, scorched earth, rocks, a horses hooves and something near it; green, scaly with wicked claws whatever could it be? I could not make sense of the bits I could see. Father must have known because he smiled in understanding while I remained perplexed. It was not until Mr. Statz stepped back I could gaze upon the entire scene. It was Saint George slaying the dragon in brilliant colors with such detail the figures seemed to be suspended in the silken knots. St. George astride a glowing white horse flashed golden armor against a sullen sky. Gripping his lance above the dragon’s heart as flames danced round his head from the creature’s maw he looked more archangel than man.
I stepped closer and felt my eyes go wide for the visor was raised allowing the viewer to see righteous anger igniting deep blue eyes which stared past the monstrous head directly into mine. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I searched the image before me. Though not the same, the resemblance was striking nonetheless; Thomas. The footman was clad in a knight’s garb and daring anyone who looked to deny his strength, heart and loyalty to defend the realm and the innocent. I continued to cast my eyes about the piece wondering if anyone else would see what I did. Father draped his arm around my shoulders and asked if I liked it.
“Tis not what I had expected but lovely nonetheless” I said. “But do you or Mr. Statz notice anything familiar about it?”
Both men stood in silent contemplation until Mr. Statz offered up his opinion.
“I think young Miss that as I can recall the few others that I have seen with a similar theme, uh, well the dragons’ eyes have been black. But when my apprentice was doing the cleaning he first took note of the eyes.”
His arm extended and a finger pointed down, “See if you look close you’ll see the beast has multi-colored eyes. Dark green rings around a ruby orb. A most unusual choice for who ever commissioned this piece.”
Father chortled and said “Perhaps because the dragon represents the Devil himself in one of his many forms or mayhap the gentleman that contracted for it desired to hang it in the main hall where candlelight would make the beast come alive. Give the ladies a reason to cling closer to their husbands after a glance at it.”
Father shook hands and requested Mr. Statz follow him to his study so that he might conclude his bill. I was left standing alone with these images and wondering why a young lady might have chosen this terrifying dragon as part of her bedrooms’ decoration. I was a bit disturbed by the dragon writhing in death throes but could not tell Papa to hang it somewhere else after the cost he had paid for it. I resolved to say nothing and be of good cheer when he returned.
Later that night I tucked myself into bed and stared at the newly hung tapestries. In the firelight the images seemed to move as if the story they told would progress if only I had eyes to see. I snuggled down into my pillow pleased that I had this new chamber all to myself. I had secreted a book from the mystery room on the top floor. During our excavations I had found a small studded trunk, filled with books and journals. It was not so heavy that I could not carry it myself and so just before dinner I placed it in my room so that I might go through it in privacy. Who knew what I might find?
I chose a maroon leather bound book that told tales of ancient Rome and soon found myself engrossed in lives lived long ago. I drifted to sleep thinking of sun-drenched streets and the scent of olive trees. I was warm and content seeing my dream self wander along the Forum. I could feel the heat rising off the cobbles and stroking my legs. The warmth crawled along my limbs until I felt myself in a stupor of languid repose. I was drifting in a haze of growing intensity yet I was not frightened; after all not even nightmares can truly do more than provide a good scare.
It was the queerest sensation; to be dreaming and yet somehow still aware. I could smell the ocean and it was like nothing I had experienced before; a tangy scent I could taste on my tongue. I drew my cloak around me as I felt the chill breeze coming off the water and voice came to me, “do not be afraid for I shall keep you warm and safe.” I slowly opened my eyes and looked into the face lying on the pillow next to mine.
I should have been terrified but somehow my mind noted this was just another part of the dream and I relaxed. Icy green eyes appeared to be lit from within but of course this was only the reflection brought about by the last candle still burning. They fixated on me and I waited for what would come next. A warm, soft voice tripped through her impossibly red lips, “I have loved you for so long and it is only now that I can come to you without bringing you harm. Each night over these many years I have waited and it has been the most exquisite agony but no longer for you are ready.”
I sighed with happiness for this face that had brought me terror as a child was no threat but just the longed for friend to help assuage my solitary existence. I would have a friend my own age to gossip with, to ride with and maybe we would even attend a party together. I smiled back at her and wondered who she was. “What is your name?”
“Shush, not yet.” I watched as she moved closer and began to stroke my hair.
“Such a golden color, I am thinking you are liquid sunshine and moon glow. Such soft skin and so very warm; your essence is intoxicating to me.”
I watched her through sleepy eyes and was content to be with her. The stroking was so delicate I again felt myself drifting away. Her breath was sweet and soothing on my face. I wondered how long she would stay and was rewarded with a kiss on my cheek. Her lips trailed hot kisses along my jaw line and lingered on my neck. Her tongue rasped along my throat like a cat and she gently moved her attentions back to my face when I whimpered.
A chuckle rumbled low from her throat. “Ah my sweet, you are trembling and so lovely in your awakening. I shall take special care to give you the utmost pleasure. This night will be my first gift to you; the first of many more. Do not question, do not think, just feel-nothing more will I ask of you.”
I opened my eyes to find her looking down at me, turning my head slightly I could see that she was propped up on one elbow. I returned my gaze to her face and left myself go.
She must have sensed my surrender for she gave a slow sultry smile while her eyes narrowed in satisfaction. “You will enjoy this” she purred as she brushed her lips across mine. Had I not been dreaming I would have rejected this advance but after all a dream means nothing and is gone with the morning dew. What harm could come from this strange dream? Giving in I felt her hot tongue lick the corners of my mouth and I felt the strangest tingling rush throughout my body. Her arms came round and clapped me tightly to her as she ravaged my mouth with soft movements. Closing my eyes I found myself responding with a growing passion. Heat, touch and breath had become my existence; there was nothing else.
I was lost to the sensation. The smallest of bites on my lower lip made me open my eyes. I found her gleaming teeth smiling down at me.
“You are lovely to kiss and I do believe the rest of you is equally lovely. I wish to see you in the moonlight; with your skin glowing bright in passion.” My unnamed dream friend raised up the sheets and pulled me to her. “Come let us see what we can make of the dark that seeks to hide what is ever beautiful.”
Chapter 3
The Dark Visitor
I found myself standing at the doors to the balcony but could not recall how I had arrived here from my bed. Turning back to look at the distance between my dream self and the bed, fully expecting to see myself still in slumber amongst the coverlets I was surprised to note the tangled sheets and pillows were without form: empty for I was no longer there. Yet the impressions on the pillows left no doubt that two had lain there as if already lovers. I looked back to the vista beyond the doors. The rippled glass although set in complicated iron fittings through which sunlight cast remarkable patterns during the day now appeared quite different. In the moon glow the iron ribbons appeared as fine as gossamer spider webs tracing ancient signs across the night sky.
The double doors opened without the aid of my hand and again I heard the voice, “Come to me my darling Laura, you will come to no harm this night. Let me love you and bring you joy for what awaits you is dark rapture.” My ears sought the source of the voice. I knew it was the lady of my childhood dreams but now I was grown and should not be afraid. How very real this dream was.
You may think me silly but have you not ever awoken and been utterly convinced that everything you felt still lingered on your skin even as your eyes pierced the darkness of the room? Twas true for me also; I could feel the soft breeze ripple through my night-rail and the stone floor was cold upon my feet as I passed through the doors. I was gazing at the moon when suddenly and without warning I felt her close behind me. My breath quickened and my toes curled under themselves in anticipation but I was still unsure of what was to come. My sleeping gown shifted in the wind and I could feel her hot breath against my nape.
“How much I shall enjoy this night. I can barely restrain my urges but for your sake I shall take care.” Her arms snaked around my torso and gripped me tight, “you are so warm, so alive.”
A tingling sensation washed through me but not the way it would if I was chilled. Confusion spilled into my thoughts damping my newfound enthusiasm for her company.
“Shhhh my golden child,” she hushed me. “Tonight everything you will do and everything you will feel is natural. There is nothing to fear in nature.”
I was breathing fast almost as if I had been running but oddly enough I was standing frozen in her arms. I felt heat and moisture on my left earlobe and realized she was licking me as a cat would a bowl of cream. Nearly panting I felt myself shudder with the sensation of it. A low rumbling sigh passed her lips, “just wait for it will grow more intense. I shall give you the greatest gift tonight. One that no man would ever take the time for; my sweet Laura this is only the beginning.”
I felt her hands run up my body, skim over my breasts and settle around my shoulders. I do not know why but I kept my eyes locked on the moon as if it would anchor my soul during this dream state I was in. Her breath rushed in and out against the back of my head as she caressed my neck. Long fingers worked their way into my hair undoing the loose braid then cast it all free to the night sky. From the corner of my eye I could see my long hair flicker to my right and away from me. Returning my eyes again to the limpid moon I resolved to wonder at these new sensations and not shy away. Hot kisses again rained down over my neck and I felt my hair being swept aside to expose my nape further. I decided that I would name the sensations in order to quiet the growing riot in my mind. Heat, mouth, the insistent pressure of lips and tongue all gliding up and down along the left side of my neck.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pull on my hair and felt fear run deep into my belly but it was not the bite I was anticipating. Using steady tension my head was slowly turned back bringing my face into her gaze. Burning light spilled from her eyes and I was transfixed by them. Giving me a smile that I could not for the life of me understand; she lowered her head and kissed me. Tender at first then with increasing pressure and ardor. I gasped at this sensation. While one hand continued to pull at my hair holding my head in place the other griped my neck with a force that was most exiting.
Never before had I been kissed like this, sweet, hard and yet arousing, her lips willed my surrender. I opened my mouth to speak, not really knowing what I would say when her thumb ran across my lower lip. “No, say nothing. Feeling is all, words are promises too soon broken.”
My breath hitched in reply and she laughed. Twas the most amazing sound, as if distant thunder announced the coming of the storm.
“Laura you have the prettiest mouth, so pink and delicate. I can barely contain myself.”
With that she dropped her mouth again and I was lost. No sight, no thought, just an animal need to be touched again and again.
The storm did come and it roiled around me. The lady with no name lavished my mouth with hers until I was panting and quivering under her touch. Hot and insistent I was so focused on the taste and feel of her lips that at first I did not notice a chill on my breasts and thighs as the wind danced along under my gown. She pulled back slightly and licked her lips.
I heard her whisper, “As I thought, you are ripe.”
I sighed with the wonder of it all and pulled my head away to look again at the moon. I felt her kiss the back of my head in a gesture of affection and I smiled in gratitude. Her hands had returned to my waist during this interlude and I could feel them stroking me softly as one would a skittish horse. They roamed about on the outside of the fabric and played with the laces that held my gown closed.
She murmured, “So very pretty, much like the virgin on your precious tapestry, all white and gold. Needing, wanting, aching for something but not knowing what.”
I smiled even though I did not understand what she meant; simply enjoying the pleasure of her voice pooling into my hair. Without realizing I had moved I found my body arching into the night as if to encourage her hands to do something, anything to ease this growing ache rising in my loins. My breasts felt as if they would burst from some unknown pressure. Her hands swept up and the lightest touch passed over my chest. Her fingers did not linger long but my nipples rose and puckered in response. Her tongue flicked across mine while her hands and fingers seemed to play everywhere enflaming my skin. Now I was gasping in the heat that coursed through my veins. I felt the fires of hell licking through every inch of my skin nearly shaking my soul with the need I felt but I was dammed for not knowing how to assuage it.
I could feel her smile pressed against my neck and she whispered “You will be magnificent; the rarest of jewels and tonight you will find all that you desire.”
The lace and satin ribbons were pulled with the tiniest movements away from my night-rail, so slowly that I placed my hands over hers to speed the process.
“No you must let me for I’ve had much more practice and you would undo yourself if you rushed. This must be a night of wonder and many years from now simply remembering what will happen tonight will renew the ache in your belly.”
Her lips pressed against my ear and she dropped the words in with honeyed tones, “done properly a woman is like the earth, full of life with a serene countenance which belies her true nature. For deep within the daughters of Athena lies the molten core; white hot and it should be nurtured for if the core cools and blackens all of nature and that which resides in us dies.”
As she spoke I felt one of her hands cup my breast against the fabric and she sighed with pleasure. “Soon you will know what you are capable of.”
I looked down and watched as her fingers played with the laces feeling as if I would die should she linger much longer. My call was answered as she gently pulled the gown apart; the wind picked up and nipped at my exposed skin enhancing the sensation. I noticed how cool her hands felt as they massaged my chest and pulled at my nipples. I was on fire and did not know how to comfort myself nor dampen the heat. With her mouth against my ear whispering endearments and encouragement she let her right hand trail down; raking her nails against my belly.
I pressed myself back against her and without understanding why ground my hips against her. The sigh we both gave off drifted into the air; wicked away by the breeze.
I still stood with my arms at my side not truly sure what I should be doing. It was happening and it felt like heaven and sin yet I didn’t know what to do with myself. The hand on my breast continued to swirl in the softest of touches slowing now and again to roll my nipple between thumb and forefinger. Each time she did that shocks of liquid fire would course down into my womb driving me to distraction. I felt lush and full with life gasping in the sweetest agony of it all. Still I remained motionless.
I suddenly began to fear that an unwarranted movement from me would cause the dream to end before I discovered what I so desperately wanted.
Her right hand began to dip from my belly and play with the downy fluff I had grown between my legs. Twisting, flicking and stroking the hairs induced a frenzy of sensation and I heard myself moan. I cannot recall every making this sound before; it was one of agony and desire. Strange as it was I did not care if she heard me. I felt my hips rock forward of their own volition as if to increase the pressure of her hand.
“Yes,” she whispered “so soft, so hot and slick you are almost ready.”
I did not know what I was ready for but at this moment I was now most eager to find out. Yet when I was sure she would intensify the stroking of my most secret parts her hand withdrew. I shuddered and whimpered with loss. She shushed me again and her hands returned to my shoulders. Grasping the top of my night-rail she gave a gentle tug.
Stepping back from me the gown went with her and I was left standing; as God made me. Naked, shuddering and wanton in the full moon.
“Beautiful,” she hissed. I started to turn towards her but she grasped me again and pulled me into her body. I could feel the buttons of her gown and the velvet of her bodice hard against my spine. Oddly I did not recall her clothing before but I knew that she had been dressed of a fashion I did not recognize.
Long chilled fingers clasped around my neck and again a fission of fear snaked its’ way into my heart. She seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil for her fingers twitched as if she ached to squeeze. Odd noises trickled across the balcony; it sounded as if many cats were purring. Yet I knew the mousers were not on this floor. How very strange!
Ever so slowly her grip lessened and she danced her fingers across my shoulder blades. Then kisses, burning hot and damp started along my hair line and lingered on the top of my back and I felt a slow pressure pushing me forward at the waist.
I complied with the silent command and leaned forward. Her hands roamed my back, came round to linger again on my breasts before resuming their nocturnal journey. I was vibrating with sensation and desirous of more; more heat, more touch anything to give me release from the pressure growing inside. With one hand roving between my hardened breasts I could feel the fingertips of the other slowing scrape their nails along my back. It was a tickle but so much more; causing my nerves to leap and flicker at each movement.
Then both hands came round and gripped my waist, stilling me for a moment. My breathing was harsh and ragged. My skull seemed to tingle with each breeze that danced across us. I was dying and I loved it! I remembered overhearing Cook laugh about her husband and his petite morte…yet it was not until now I understood. After all how could one have a little death? Either you were dead or you were not; there is no middle ground on this.
I was brought back to myself by hands cupping my buttocks and squeezing them. I nearly spoke but resolved myself to just revel in the feeling of it. While one hand rubbed and stroked my bum the other raced back and flicked my nipple. I nearly shrieked with need. Then one of her legs pushed against mine and I allowed my stance to widen. Her hand dipped between my legs and began stroking the folds found within while the other continued to taunt my breasts.
My head was thrown back and I roared with satisfaction.
I felt her lips move on my back as she hummed, “this is just the beginning you must steel yourself for more.”
My heart pounded and I could not imagine the feelings becoming even more intense. How could any human survive? I felt as if I would fly apart and become nothing more than dust settling upon the ground if I continued. Ashes to ashes; was this how my day would dawn? Rapture casting me into infinity never to be myself again; I would risk all to finish this and know.
She turned me about until I was facing her. I gasped at first for it appeared that her eyes were not only lit from within but shedding light that flickered as she blinked. Hands ran up through my blowing tresses and gripped my head; all the while her eyes leaked out their dark radiance. I was stunned by the vision before me and felt my ribs rise and fall in shallow fits. Fear and passion had combined to leave me breathless. I opened to my mouth to again ask her name but she stopped me with her mouth pressing harshly down onto mine.