Showing posts with label Bathory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bathory. Show all posts

Thursday, February 21, 2019

HOW THE MONSTER BECAME A VAMPIRE





Bathory's name and her family's importance ensured she avoided trial for her crimes, despite the king wanting her put on trial. Instead, she was imprisoned in her castle under deplorable conditions, which is some comfort. This excerpt are her recollections of death and then undeath. Raised from the dead by Anton, the vampire who has fallen in love with her and cannot believe she committed the crimes she is supposed to have committed, has given her immortality.

"Time passed and I suffered, for there were months of unbearable cold. If I felt I would succumb, I soon realized I wouldn’t. Why can’t I just die, I wondered? I begged to freeze to death, but did not. No fire was permitted in my domain, no blankets or coats, the thin blanket long gone, although I did finally have a thin, torn coverlet with the smell of dog urine on it. That stink faded in time or perhaps I got used to it. Spring came. I could tell from the sound of birds I heard. That and the scent of wildflowers that grew along the castle ramparts. I knew the colors to be bright.

Why hadn’t I ever admired such things when I had the chance? My prison was actually warm in summer. What a welcome respite! Autumn less so, for it signaled the approach of winter. Did I expect better treatment? In all honesty, I did not. It was to be endured until the escape by death was at last granted to me. I became ill and old. Yes, finally—though I had no mirrors, old age had at last taken me. I could see the changes. My hair had grown long and wild, uncombed and knotted, but worst of all, I could see the grey.

Sometimes I was observed looking at it. Invariably, a voice would taunt me. “You are an old woman! You are an ugly old hag!” What followed was a string of abuse. Well, what did I expect? Indeed, I had aged. I saw my body as I tried so desperately to keep clean. I’d see my withered breasts, hanging like lifeless things. My skin sagged all over my body. I had a stink, too, as it was impossible to bathe. The best I could do was to use some dirty water I was given to drink. Wetting a rag, I’d try to keep myself clean. Only once or twice did I think of those other baths I used to have—one of countless murderous sins that had condemned me. Regret was still new to me and remorse newer still, but because I had horrific hallucinations and fits once again, when sensible, I was thoughtful about what I had done.

If I can recall a last moment of life, I suppose it would be the feeling of dizziness. I was standing in my quarters, then suddenly unsteady on my feet. I tried to grab hold of something, and fell forward with great force. There was pain...but it did not last. Blackness overwhelmed it.

There is nothing in my memory after that except just finding myself in a shadowy place. At first I thought I was dead. But then I saw you, my love, looking at me. “I am Anton...” you said. “And you must drink.” You raised a goblet toward me, plain and unadorned. I shook my head but you persisted. “You must for you will die in agony if you do not drink...”

Sunday, March 19, 2017

The Dark Truth of My Fiction


From 'I, Bathory, Queen of Blood:
"5out of 5 stars HORRIFIC VAMPS & GREAT STORY!!!
I'm hooked on Carole Gill!! I prefer more details about a Vampires life, knowing they're Satan's creatures, and love that this author portrays them as they are!!! Intense read and that there's real history in a her novels, makes it even more interesting!! If you're offended by language, sex, bondage, and savagery, look to the Chic lit on the paranormal!!! Carole Gill is phenomenal!!!!"
Reviewer on Amazon 

This review was written for I, Bathory, Queen of Blood. However the essence of it applies to the horror fiction I write. It particularly applies to all my vampire novels which include a series of four books as well as two other novels that follow.

The Blackstone Vampires consists of four novels. The House on Blackstone Moor, Unholy Testament-The Beginnings, Unholy Testament-Full Circle and The Fourth Bride (The Blackstone Vampires Omnibus comprises all four novels), Justine: Into the Blood and I, Bathory, Queen of Blood. 

This reviewer nailed it. I don't write lightly. Vampires are monsters, beings from hell that subsist on human blood. They have feelings and, though demonic, they can love in their strange and dark way. But mostly, they lust and feed. They do this because that's what vampires, real fictional vampires, do.

The Series contains horror also of a different nature as it is historically based, covering thousands of years and includes human horror. I thought that only fair. Evil is evil, after all.

There are readers that enjoy the dark side and readers that don't. I think they should have a choice. For those who want to step into the dark and experience what goes with it, I'd suggest they read my fiction.

Chic Lit is a great subgenre. It suits a lot of readers. But horror is horror unless it is a specific type of subgenre which is fine. Here is a definition of horror that is worth a read:



DEFINITION OF HORROR

noun

an overwhelming and painful feeling caused bysomething frightfully shocking, terrifying, orrevolting; a shuddering fear: to shrink back from a mutilated corpse in horror, anything that causes such a feeling: killing, looting, and other horrors of war, such a feeling as a quality or condition: to have known the horror of slow starvation. a strong aversion; abhorrence: to have a horror of emotional outbursts. Informal. something considered bad or tasteless: That wallpaper is a horror. The party was a horror. horrors, Informal.
delirium tremens.
extreme depression. adjective inspiring or creating horror, loathing, aversion,etc.: The hostages told horror stories of their year in captivity. centered upon or depicting terrifying or macabre events: a horror movie. interjection
horrors, (used as a mild expression of dismay,surprise, disappointment, etc.)



I take that onboard with my horror fiction. That's what I write, that's the dark truth of what I write.

Monday, January 16, 2017

Some Results!


2nd PLACE BEST HORROR NOVEL, 2016
PREDITORS & EDITORS READERS' POLL


I am so happy as I, BATHORY, QUEEN OF BLOOD is the last novel of mine my husband will hve read. I hope he knows!




2nd PLACE BEST HORROR ANTHOLOGY, 2016


The all-female horror writers of this anthology and Suzie Wargo Lockhart and Michael A.Wills well done!




BEST INDIE BOOK FINALIST


And this won cross genres--Best INDIE BOOK FINALIST!

Horror rocks! It might be twisted but so is the world!

I hope you check these books out and the other authors, too! There are some fab ones in

KILLING IT SOFTLY. 





Thursday, January 5, 2017

Fiction for Lost Souls and Book News


Dark dreams, fantasies--hauntings, possessions. The darkside has a pull. Not for everyone but for some. If you are so drawn and know how addictive that other place is, then you are one of the lost souls. Not literally but in your mind, in the ideas you dare to have. You see, with those ideas, comes the need to explore!

And why not explore other worlds--other places where your imagination seeks to take you? Are dark dreams bad? Not at all! Often, they are an escape from reality and let's face it, reality sometimes is a place we'd like to leave for while. Distraction has its merits. So step forward. Come along and see what awaits!

I have begun another novel. It has a series of hauntings running through the straight, modern crime thriller that it really is.

Like my other fiction, it has darkness in it, but the protagonist is all too human. She is a murderess and there is this haunting you see...

Don't worry, I'll keep you posted!

Meanwhile, if you haven't read my work there are seven novels and a collection packed with my short stories, previously published in anthologies. This will lead you squarely into the darkside. Step easily, and do avoid the shadows if you can!

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

Meanwhile, let me just ask you to please vote, if you haven't yet--my latest release based on human monster, Countess Erzsbet Bathory, known in life as Countess Dracula has been nominated in the Critters' readers' poll:

NOMINATED PREDITORS & EDITORS READER'S POLL/HORROR!

Would love you to vote here:


I, Bathory, Queen of Blood

"5 stars - "A blood-soaked rendition of the 'Countess Dracula, her best yet!"

"Solid Gothic Horror from Gill"


THANKS!



Until next time! Here's looking at you!


Friday, September 16, 2016

Guess Who's Going to Be in the Next Post?!


Ring a bell?


How about now, did you get the point yet?
Oh! Sorry!

If you haven't guessed, it's Vlad Tepes who lived a century before Bathory, but in the world of vampires, that doesn't matter! 

He was a warrior for his country, Romania and is still highly regarded there as such. He was supposed to have been the model for Bram Stoker's Dracula. As a matter of fact, Vlad III or Vlad Tepes, known in his heyday as Dracula — or Drăculea, in old Romanian — was a medieval prince known for his blood thirsty banquets. People were staked and I find that, frankly worse than vampirism! 

He not only appears in the novel, he has a wildly passionate affair with Bathory! They shared so much. He'd have been the perfect blind date for her, I think! 

Two posts tomorrow about him and what they get up to! Stay tuned!

Sunday, September 11, 2016

99 CENTS! NOW THRU - SUNDAY 9/18 'I, BATHORY, QUEEN OF BLOOD.'

Cachtice Castle, Slovakia 

I once read a novel that made Countess Erzsebet Bathory 'good.' When I read that, and stifled screams as I didn't want to frighten neighbors or family, I knew what I wanted to do. This was about the time I had just begun to write for publication. I know that because Bathory began to appear in some short stories of mine. The reason for the stifled screams was that I had read a number of books about what the real Bathory had done. I looked her up in the library and on the internet. In fact all over the internet. It was serious researching I was doing. Nothing less would do. I just had to know as much as possible.

The novel was started about a year and a half ago. I was just finishing it when my husband suddenly died. It took me ten months to just read through it before it went to my editor and then onto my publisher.

Tough year, murderous. Perhaps, as this is the darkest work I have ever written, it was a portent of things to come. It is possible, anything is possible. I'm a big believer in that.

The months pass, I am at last able to send it to Natalie G. Owens, herself an outstanding author and also a great editor. She returned it to me, with a suggestion. Basically, she suggested I include an Author's Note explaining what makes this book as controversial as it is. I agreed and wrote one. But instead of placing it in the back of the book which is usual, I asked for it to be in the front. Why needlessly shock readers I thought.

So here it is:
Author's Note

I feel it is incumbent upon me to add a note to this novel. Initially, when I first thought of writing about Countess Erzsebet Bathory, I feared I could not. How can someone write about such a monster and from her point of view?! I have to say some of the text verges on the obscene and is certainly controversial yet let me say that much of the torture I depicted was a kind Bathory actually condoned (and participated in herself).

Still, I felt the only way to write about her was to be honest and provide realism, not a watered down version of this real blood monster, despite the fact some parts of her life and exploits were omitted. That is what I endeavored to do. Countess Erzsebet Bathory, The Blood Countess, was a sexual sadist and a mass murderer. I have no qualms about demonstrating this. In her case, she had absolute power. Bathory was debauched and evil, an amoral murdering maniac whose every whim was catered for by other sexual sadists in her employ only too happy to participate. Her mood swings, psychotic episodes, and irrational, inconsistent thinking are essentially the traits of a psychopath. I attributed the cause of her rages to blind jealousy.

I do feel she was jealous of those young women around her and that was the spark that lit the slow-burning embers of her insanity, which soon had her lose touch with all semblance of control and reality. She was getting older and becoming obsessed with her fading beauty. She had a special mirror constructed so that she could lean her arms on shelves and study her reflection for hours. The sexual sadism and the proclivity for murder was, I believe, always present. She witnessed horrific punishments meted out to thieves and others by staff as a child. This must have thrilled and inspired her as the madness was already there. She lived in a brutal age, in a backward country.

This was no Golden Age of Elizabeth, but a time when people in her country believed that mandrake, cut from the foot of a gallows, held magical powers as the semen of those hanged men dripped on it after a final erection! The term now in use to refer to such a thing is autoerotic asphyxiation. Magic was believed in, as was witchcraft, and despite Bathory’s education, she was a product of her time. She believed everything her servant lover and advisor, Darvulia, also known as the Witch of the Forest, told her. The fact that hundreds of girls went missing in Cachtice and no one did anything about it says a lot about the time and the place.

Her crimes were discovered finally by a Lutheran minister who actually witnessed one murder. An investigation was held, at last. Still, when the horrific scale of her crimes became known, even her enemy, Thurzo, the Palatine, did not wish her tried. He kept pleading on her behalf as he felt putting her on trial would denigrate the nobility. Finally, the king conceded: Countess Báthory would not be brought to public trial.

In light of the evidence, Thurzo recommended his original sentence of perpetuis carceribus (life imprisonment), rather than the death penalty. By order of Parliament, the name of Erzsebat Bathory would never again be spoken in polite society anyway. The judgment was that she be walled up in her own castle. I happen to think she was just locked in her bedchamber and fed. I don’t think she was treated royally, which is some comfort.

A really important note to stress here is the real Bathory’s crimes and torture methods were far worse than most of what I have depicted in this book, and that’s saying a lot! In order to make her real, I depicted her as the violent she devil I think she was, a blood- lusting lunatic who was also sexually degenerate. That is my advisory. This is one of the worst monsters that have existed in history and this is her story as I tell it. Much of it is factual but some of it fictionalized as she wasn’t really a vampire. Thank you for reading,

   (End of note)

So there you go. And here it is, now for the first time being priced at 99 cents/99 pence on promotion, beginning Monday - Sunday.


AMAZON 

99 CENTS NOW!

Sunday, August 21, 2016

An Immortal Sexual Sadist and Serial Killer?


That's what made me write this book. Erzsebet Bathory, known as The Blood Countess was, indeed, a human monster. That's why the Author's Note is in the front of the book, to serve as a warning! Her crimes were horrific plus she held absolute power in 16th Century Hungary! 

I read a number of books about her over the years and, as I write horror, I thought, in the great tradition of the writer: what if?  What if she was immortal and existed in modern times? What would she be doing? That gave me my story. To illustrate my point here are two excerpts:

"Time passed quickly because we were so busy. The films we had started making years ago, we eventually turned back to—only the new ones would soon be called something else. They would come to be called snuff films. Those films were dangerous for they were filled with murder...real savage murder. I still remember each frame, each close-up of a girl succumbing to death. I was worried about seeing too many. I didn’t want the rages to start or my sadistic murderousness to once again rise up. “It is worse,” I said, “than when I lived.” I believed this and so did you..."

"we went about filming masked vampires whipping humans. Lucerne got heavily involved in her acting—and so did I. But then there was an extra ingredient that started quite by accident. Some drainings happened by mistake. Yes, fatal drainings. As we feared any evidence of these crimes coming to light and reversing the legality of vampirism, we knew we had to dispose of the bodies. This, we did..."

End of excerpts.

The term 'serial killer' is modern. The old term would be 'mass murderer.' The only comfort we have is we know these people don't exist forever. But what if they did?!



"As one blood-soaked page follows another we are pulled further and further into the depths of depravity to which Bathory is prepared to sink in order to fulfill her wildest sexual fantasies and murderous lusts..."

Sunday, August 7, 2016

ON SALE NOW!


Countess Erzsebat Bathory, as you have read, was a human monster. She was a sexual sadist and predator (in modern terms) who held absolute power. She killed and tortured hundreds of servant girls because she liked to and could. She also believed that bathing in their blood would reverse any signs of aging. In order to write about her with honesty, the book holds little back. That is why it comes with an Author's Note! Here it is:

Author’s Note


I feel it is incumbent upon me to add a note to this novel. Initially, when I first thought of writing about Countess Erzsebat Bathory, I feared I could not. How can someone write about such a monster and from her point of view?!

I have to say some of the text verges on the obscene and is certainly controversial yet let me say that much of the torture I depicted was a kind Bathory actually condoned (and participated in herself).
Still, I felt the only way to write about her was to be honest and provide realism, not a watered down version of this real blood monster, despite the fact some parts of her life and exploits were omitted. That is what I endeavored to do. Countess Erzsebat Bathory, The Blood Countess, was a sexual sadist and a mass murderer. I have no qualms about demonstrating this. In her case, she had absolute power.

Bathory was debauched and evil, an amoral murdering maniac whose every whim was catered for by other sexual sadists in her employ only too happy to participate. Her mood swings, psychotic episodes, and irrational, inconsistent thinking are essentially the traits of a psychopath.

I attributed the cause of her rages to blind jealousy. I do feel she was jealous of those young women around her and that was the spark that lit the slow-burning embers of her insanity, which soon had her lose touch with all semblance of control and reality.

She was getting older and becoming obsessed with her fading beauty. She had a special mirror constructed so that she could lean her arms on shelves and study her reflection for hours.

The sexual sadism and the proclivity for murder was, I believe, always present. She witnessed horrific punishments meted out to thieves and others by staff as a child. This must have thrilled and inspired her as the madness was already there.

She lived in a brutal age, in a backward country. This was no Golden Age of Elizabeth, but a time when people in her country believed that mandrake, cut from the foot of a gallows, held magical powers as the semen of those hanged men dripped on it after a final erection! The term now in use to refer to such a thing is autoerotic asphyxiation.

Magic was believed in, as was witchcraft, and despite Bathory’s education, she was a product of her time. She believed everything her servant lover and advisor, Darvulia, also known as the Witch of the Forest, told her.

The fact that hundreds of girls went missing in Cachtice and no one did anything about it says a lot about the time and the place.

Her crimes were discovered finally by a Lutheran minister who actually witnessed one murder. An investigation was held, at last.

Still, when the horrific scale of her crimes became known, even her enemy, Thurzo, the Palatine, did not wish her tried. He kept pleading on her behalf as he felt putting her on trial would denigrate the nobility. Finally, the king conceded: Countess Báthory would not be brought to public trial.

In light of the evidence, Thurzo recommended his original sentence of perpetuis carceribus (life imprisonment), rather than the death penalty. By order of Parliament, the name of Erzsebat Bathory would never again be spoken in polite society anyway. The judgment was that she be walled up in her own castle.

I happen to think she was just locked in her bedchamber and fed. I don’t think she was treated royally, which is some comfort.

A really important note to stress here is the real Bathory’s crimes and torture methods were far worse than most of what I have depicted in this book, and that’s saying a lot!
In order to make her real, I depicted her as the violent she devil I think she was, a blood- lusting lunatic who was also sexually degenerate.

That is my advisory. This is one of the worst monsters that have existed in history and this is her story as I tell it. Much of it is factual but some of it fictionalized as she wasn’t really a vampire.

Thank you for reading,
Carole Gill



on sale now!





Saturday, August 6, 2016

Bathory Primer

Countess Bathory's Castle ruins in Čachtice, Slovak republic

Countess Erzsebet Bathory
So who was this woman they called The Blood Countess? And why was there an edict passed that prohibited anyone mentioning her name for one hundred years after her death?

Erzsebet Bathory was born into a noble, titled family. They had power and knew how to use it. As I said in a previous blog post, this was no Golden Age of Elizabeth. There was rampant superstition not only among the general population but among nobles like Bathory, despite her impressive education.

To actually believe, as she did, that there were magical properties in blood that could ward off signs of aging, is the best indicator of her lethal superstition. Top that off with being a sexual sadist, add the element of absolute power to that, then consider because of that power, she had serving her, other sadists in her inner circle who were competing with one another in order to suggest more vicious methods of torture. Yes, the blood baths weren't enough there was the torture and sadism as well.

If the villagers thought their daughters were missing, they knew there was no redress. What does that mean? It meant they had to suffer in silence until it got so bad that her crimes were eventually discovered. And despite the King wanting her put on trial alongside of her 'helpers,' he did not get his wish. The point was made that it would besmirch the reputation of other noble families.

She married at age fifteen and was, I feel introduced to a very dark side of 'love' making by her husband Count Ferenc Nádasdy who took her name upon marriage as her family name was greater than his own.

She wanted children desperately and was from all accounts a very loving and good mother. I find that fascinating. Although I think she was the product of a peculiar family to say the least and a brutal age, I think had she been occupied solely by her children and in a loving marriage with a different sort of man she would not have killed as she did. Having said that, I wouldn't swear to it.

Back to Bathory:  her world was so unlike anything we can possibly relate to. Even given a different sort of lifestyle which might have included being from a different country and time, she'd still have been a mass murderer in my opinion. Had she not had absolute power, her crimes would have been less. Still, the sadism would have been there. Had she been a member of the general population (anywhere, any time) I think she still would have done horrible things and (hopefully) been discovered.

We'll never know of course but it is interesting to think about. Over the years, I have read a lot of books and even forensic psychiatric journals (a doctor friend of mine loaned me his medical library card)! I poured over them. Then I went on to read books written by F.B.I. profilers, writing about infamous serial killers like Ted Bundy. Why are there people like that and why are they so different? What's wrong, when did it go wrong, is it genes or is it environment? There are many opinions. Are such people 'born bad' or is that not possible?

The fact that there are such people is why I write horror. I am trying, I suppose, to understand human evil.

*~*

This is my book. I tell like it was. The only fiction is she becomes a vampire. But let's face it, she was pretty close to being a genuine vampire, don't you think? Still, existing for four hundred years as does in I, BATHORY, QUEEN OF BLOOD and but needing blood to drink also, is a pretty interesting premise to me!


AMAZON

99  cents from Feb 16 - 22

Thursday, December 24, 2015

UPDATE ON NEW BOOK ABOUT THE BLOOD COUNTESS!



The darkest published fiction I have written is my Blackstone Vampires Series. I have often said I don't know where all the darkness came from, but it just poured out of me. After I wrote Justine: Into the Blood (first novel in my new series) I thought, 'well, I'll go a little lighter now.' But then I started to write a novel about Erzsebat Bathory, The Blood Countess.

Why'd I do that? I'm still not sure. I always say, we write what is in us to write. I think that's true. With Bathory, I found her the most puzzling. How could a woman do what she is purported to have done? Hundreds of torture killings, bathing in blood--perhaps there is an exaggeration but let's face it, any country that prohibits the name of a noble personage being SPOKEN for a century after her death, has to have some reason for doing that. Really.

She had children, they stood by her, from what I read. A son-in-law pleaded for her. She had to have been very complex at the very least. I don't think she was ever unaware of what she was doing. Nothing I have read suggested that.

She just had the power to do what she wished. A sadistic sexual murderer with unlimited power! That was her story. As I have said she is the same Bathory in my telling, albeit one that is more aware and conflicted. But the horror is there.

I began to think about all my published longer fiction and I realized, it's all very dark. As for the first series, each novel in The Blackstone Vampires is darker than the preceding one. I guess--it was a given for me to go on to a novel about Bathory.

There is a great deal of eroticism in the story. Eroticism and horror easily go together. They are two elements of a whole. There are relationships that have both present.

Power may be central to the equation. Unlimited power and a loyal lover can help a monster do anything. Her rages continue in my novel, they fuel the violence. Regret cannot be permitted to take over because the rage is too strong. Her realization of that is her curse. It's all pretty complex.

The book's release has been delayed because of my husband's sudden death in September. However, I am going through it now and will be sending it on to editing and then it will go in Creativia's line up. I'm glad about that. My husband liked the book and, as always, encouraged me. 

So just hang on a little longer. Bathory and her madness will be worth waiting for! 

Monday, November 9, 2015

UPDATE ON MY WRITING: STAY TUNED!


Many of you know I am living through my own horror. It isn't easy and truthfully, the last thing I thought about doing were regular blog posts about my fiction. I did promote what my publisher had scheduled and I did that out of loyalty to him. So the question is, what about the future?

Inasmuch as I have a book that I finished before I left for that ill-fated vacation, I'm going to be getting that book over to my publisher. My husband read it and loved it. It's going to be dedicated to him.

It's about The Blood Countess, Erzsbet Bathory. It needs to be edited and will be in the Creativia line-up. It's something I can accomplish. It's baby stepping (as I've said before) back into writing. Writing is what I do. Heaven's sake, I'm not in it for the money, but I am in it for the love of writing. As writing is a discipline, I think it's going to be therapeutic for me to throw myself into it. I think it's the best activity I can pursue to avoid going crazy with grief. The grief is there it always will be. I understand about that. That's why I am going to work toward being positive and fill up my time as much as possible with something I enjoy doing.

So here goes. It's the first step back. Wish me luck, please!

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Excerpt: One More Night!




GRAPHIC VIOLENCE


"He waited all evening for the old man. He finally rang up the shop. He even walked over to it and banged on the door though he could see no one was inside.

Then he stormed back to his hotel. After smoking incessantly he went to sleep.

It was during the night that it happened. Someone came into his room, he heard the rustling but that was all he heard for he had been drugged. Whatever it had been was in the mint left on his bed. The mint he had just before retiring.

When he opened his eyes he saw a woman covered in blood. Her back was to him but she turned and smiled at him, her teeth becoming as red as the rest of her.

It was when she reached for a cloth to wipe her face that he recognized her. "You're--!"

He wavered for he felt weak. It was then that he looked down to see he was in his bath.

How red the water looked! He screamed for he understood what had happened.

He was cut all over. There didn’t seem to be much of his body that hadn’t been sliced open.

“In life it was maiden’s blood I bathed in, now in death it is anyone’s I fancy and I fancied you as a matter of fact. And now I shall show you how much!”

She moved to caress him and as she did, she kissed him, “You will die now with a kiss and the lips of Countess Bathory upon your dying flesh…"

End of Excerpt


Just one of the stories in:




Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Eco Meets The Blood Countess!




Previous chapter: Gilles de Rais

From Eco's, journal:

"Yes, Erzsebet Bathory, the Blood Countess herself.

“Eco,” he said. “There is a countess, she is a most intriguing creature…I have been watching her for a long time from Hell.”

This was the first I heard of it. Now I was to learn Satan often watched those he considered to be in some way promising and deserving of his attention.
He had taken me to Hell with him where I was to learn of Bathory—Bathory, damned nearly from birth for her soul had indeed been handed over to Satan and freely, too.

He stared at me, clearly wanting me to ask him questions, so I did.

“How is it you watch her then?”

He nodded toward the special mirror he has there. It is what the French call le miroir à deux voies, or two-way mirror.

It’s one of Satan’s most prized possessions. I believe an ancient sorcerer gave it to him, someone who thought (mistakenly as it turned out) that it would keep Satan from collecting his due. Well, it didn’t. I often saw the fellow skulking around Hell’s deepest caverns, cursing at his fate.

“I often watch her,” he admitted. “You would not believe what she does.”
It was funny because Satan looked and sounded like a dirty-minded school boy. I had to restrain myself from laughing.

“What is it that she does?”

“Come and see!” he urged, motioning for me to have a look for myself.
At first I only saw a rather attractive woman bathing. She looked regal, very haughty and proud. And she seemed to take delight in barking out orders to servants.

Satan was staring at me. “Well, have you nothing to say?”

I didn’t know what he meant and began to study the image more carefully. It was then that I noticed her bath water was red!

“That’s not blood, is it?!”

“It certainly is!”

I spun around. “You mean she bathes in it, in blood?!

I wondered why she did. I mean, really—even I found it revolting.

Satan shrugged. “She thinks it helps her to stay young.”
“Does she really?”

Satan nodded. I waited for him to tell me how old she was, but he didn’t.
“Alright,” I said. “How old is she?”

“Forty-nine.”

“I’ll be damned!” I said.

We could not help but laugh at that. Both of us were in near hysterics for some time. At last, I collected myself.

“Well, she looks no more than thirty, possibly even younger, so it must be working!”

Naturally, I had many questions. I wanted to know where she got the blood from.
“It is not difficult,” Satan explained. He went on to explain she was an all powerful aristocrat in a backward country and could get away with anything.
The implication was clear. “But whose blood is it?”

“Well, let me put it to you this way, peasant girls have been missing for ages—the families don’t dare report them missing either!”

I nodded for I could imagine why.

“She is the most powerful woman in the kingdom. Her family name is old and no one would dare to question the goings on, not even the nobles…not even the king!”

I found myself staring at her, willing her to rise out of that bloody water so I could see this Venus of the blood at last.

Satan realized and encouraged me to wait. “It will be worth the wait,” he assured me.

At last she stood and I gasped. Never did I see a more perfect feminine form; supple and slender, graceful beyond measure—it was not the body of a woman of her age.

As her maids wiped the blood from her body, I could see her skin was like alabaster. She was a vision of perfect loveliness!

I knew Satan must have had a very good time watching her. I wondered how long he had been spying on her. From the expression on his face, I could tell it must have been quite a while.

Suddenly, I felt certain he must have made her acquaintance, if you take my meaning. He had, in fact. He was to tell me not only the details of the soul taking, but other things as well. Like his dalliance with her on more than one occasion.

“So you know her intimately?” I asked with as straight a face as I could.
“I certainly do, dear boy. Did you think I do not?”
*
Yes, he was showing off again. He had been with her many times.

“It is rather interesting, her story. The pact and all, for it concerned the promise of an infant’s soul. Yes, an infant; not an ordinary occurrence.

She was dying, you see, and her nurse wished to take her to the witch of the forest. Yes there are such things and really, the only people that give those brave women the credit they deserve are the Eastern Europeans.”

Satan and I both had respect for these sorts of witches of old, Rose, for they practiced their craft conscientiously and always recognized their betters as betters.

I asked him to continue and he did proudly. “As in all summoning rites, I could hear someone calling my name, pleading with me to come. I arrived almost at once in a swirl of noxious smoke.

“Great Lord of the Underworld you are welcome here!” the summoner cried.
She was a horrid looking thing, just what you’d expect—warts and matted hair, filthy and stinking. But she was so excited and thrilled that I had actually come, I almost found her charming.

She explained that a nurse and an infant would be arriving shortly. That was the first I heard of it.”

“An infant?” I asked.

“She said the child was indeed only a few months old and was dying. She went on to explain that she dreamt it all and knew it to be true.

I believed her, for such a woman would indeed have the gift of second sight. The more she spoke, the more delighted I was to have a soul of one so young. I was so thrilled I barely heard her protestation of apology. You see, she was sorry I had been summoned to the forest.

“Please, while you wait, you will be more comfortable in my little home.”

Home, indeed! It was an awful, stench-filled hovel with animal parts in various stages of decay. This was the stuff she used in her many concoctions. There were also potions and herbs that were odious. I don’t usually find such things nauseating but I did then.

I asked her to tell me about the child and her family, it was pretty clear that this was no ordinary summoning on behalf of a miserable peasant baby.

Once again the witch fell to her knees. “You know all things! Yes, the child is from nobility. Her family rules the kingdom! There is no greater name than that of Bathory!”

I was most impressed; this was an all too rare occurrence, and quite frankly I was basking in my favorite sin: pride!

Naturally, I knew I could not be summoned to the castle, not with all the clergy hanging around her parents, calling for prayers to be offered up to heal the child.”

Satan mentioned how it did seem to be taking the nurse a long time to get there. “I asked where on earth they could be. But that was when we suddenly heard the sound of horses.”

He told me two riders pulled up: a man and a woman. It seemed the man was there to protect the woman and the child. Satan didn’t see the child right away; not until the woman lifted her cape and revealed a small bundle.

“The witch told her who I was and the nurse cried out her joy and thanks and held up the child for me to see.”

The babe was beautiful, an exquisite child. It was clear however that she was very ill for she could barely breathe, so laborious were her breaths that she was nearly crimson from the effort.

The nurse wept. “She is dying. Already I hear the death rattle. Please, help!”
“I said I could but told her I would have to take her soul. I always say this at such a time just in case there is any misunderstanding later. It was agreed and I touched the child’s head.

The nurse cried out as the babe began to tremble. So great is the effect when the soul passes away from someone, especially from a child, you see.

A great golden light began to swirl around her like a halo. As soon as it did, the baby gurgled and appeared to brighten.

“The child will live! The child will live!” they cried. On and on they went, shouting their relief and thanks.

At last they stopped. “There were many candles burning and I could see the babe now looked absolutely radiant. She opened her eyes and turned toward me and I saw the unmistakable sign—the mark of the void, the sure sign that the soul was gone never to return.”

The nurse whispered. “She has no soul now. You can see.”

They both agreed and began speaking one to the other as though I was not there. I left then, I left quickly for the rite had been done. Soon there were many small demons that had manifested themselves; small ones, because of the age of the babe.

“We have her soul!” I cried. And they shouted and shrieked and played with it. Yes, it has an actual shape, you know. It is, in fact, like a ball of light,” Satan said. “They kept passing it from one to the other until I at last took it, whereupon the light went out completely.

I ate it then, but I was selfish for I always share with my demons. Yet I could not give any of it up. It was sweet, you see, souls of the young are!”

Satan paused in his telling and looked at me. He had made his point. I hadn’t ever thought of pacts in that way. I hadn’t considered the age of those whose souls were taken.

In this case, it was tragic, for the child had not entered into any dialogue with anyone. She didn’t know what was happening, poor infant that she was; she didn’t know that her soul would be gone.

Yet as Satan said, he saw it in her eyes, that void that should have been light-filled—it was a dark abyss.

“Was she wicked from then on?” I asked him.

“Oh yes, she was. I saw the evil.”

“And what of the blood and the bathing—surely there is something else behind that.” I waited for him to answer.

He smiled. “You are most clever, Eco. You know, there is more to that than her desire to look youthful. Yes, the blood, now that is odd. She’s always been fascinated by blood. I think it’s because she’s a natural vampire.”

I just looked at him and he smiled once again. “I bet I know what you’re thinking,” he said.


I smiled back as the thought of creating such a woman first occurred to me. Yes, that was the very first time I thought of it; what better woman could there be for me than a natural vampire?

FROM BOOK 2 IN THE BLACKSTONE VAMPIRES SERIES

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Monday, February 16, 2015

Excerpt with Eco and Countess Erzebet Bathory!


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GRAPHIC CONTENT:

Eco, winner best villain eFestival of Words 2014

From Eco's journal:
"As the girl had been drained and was of no further use, she had the corpse taken away and had another girl brought in, and another after that.
“This should get us through the night.” She smiled as she sank her teeth into the girl’s soft white flesh.
“Do you never drink the blood, Countess?” I asked.

She looked up with her blood stained teeth and smiled. “Never, or I should be a wanton vampiric creature and not the noble lady that I am.”
The irony of that remark did not cause her to smile, but made her look even wickeder if that was possible.
The hours passed and with them the barbarous torture of more young girls; girls that were bitten and stabbed. She had a variety of implements she used in her torture—like pincers that either she or a servant heated before their use.
Though I am ashamed to admit it, I must say the torture fascinated me. I could not move away, nor could I even turn my head.
Have you never looked at a train wreck or an overturned carriage? Most people have. There is, I fear, the beast in all of us.

She did offer me the dagger a couple of times; a handsome thing it was, too. I begged off, which caused her to laugh and call me a coward.
Me! Rose, can you imagine being called such a name?
While this was happening, the servants had to keep coming in to remove each corpse. It seemed an unending task. At last, she looked exhausted. “I will talk to you now,” she said.

She began to tell me the most amazing things about how she was true to her husband more often than not.
“There was a man…”
She spoke of Satan. She didn’t know him as Satan, just a handsome man who called to see her when she was lonely.
“There were a few actually, but I always felt they were really one man.”
She looked hard at me when she said that. “Is that possible, do you think? Could they have been the same person?”
I shrugged and said I didn’t think it was possible.

She stared at me for a long time as though she could read my thoughts. Then she took my hands in hers. “I can feel your evil, do you know that?”
If I had come to use her in any way, the roles were being reversed. It was she that had the upper hand. The thought made me tremble.
She smiled. “Are you well? Shall I call someone?”

She was taunting me, teasing me with her mocking lips and her wild black eyes. Whatever I was capable of, whatever evil there was in me, she was bringing out more! I knew then why I was here. It was all Satan’s doing! Bathory—this murderous woman—was to show me my own destiny.
I took her by force then, not as I had earlier but differently. I have never been rougher with anyone. I thought to see terror in her but she laughed, though she screamed too with pain from each thrust.
Her shrieks got so loud that a stout old servant came in. The old nurse, Darvulia, half blind and crippled, came to make certain I was not killing her mistress.

Bathory called out to her. “Be calm, Darvi! I have had pleasure with him! No one else has given me what he has.”
Darvulia nodded for she was relieved.

“You may go now, but bring us some sustenance!”
If I thought she meant food, I was wrong. Soon, several girls were dragged into the bedchamber.
Bathory got up, and exposed each girl for me to examine. “Well?”
My body began to quake with what I can only describe as murderous excitement for I wished not only to ravish them, I wished to drain them and then feast upon them.
The girls whimpered and pleaded, but she was unmoved. Each plea was answered with a hard slap or a punch. She bit them but she did other things too and with each horrid act, she coaxed me into participating.
In truth, I did indulge myself as I too began to torture the girls, to burn them and slap them. When I was not doing it, I was watching her do it. We were not alone, however. Most of the time we did this in the presence of a bevy of servants and guards.
It was quite violent and depraved and outdid anything I had ever seen. No excesses in Ancient Rome could match this horror. If I thought de Rais’ crimes incredible, Satan was teaching me by example that I, too, would relish such carnage.
I realized I would never waver. That was the purpose of this interlude, this instruction in the ways of evil would ensure that I did not. If she bathed in blood, I did too. Yes, I did.

“Come,” she coaxed. “See how it is, it is most amazing. It will soothe you, my love.”

And so I did. I cared not if Satan saw. Let him watch, I thought.
Girls were dragged screaming to her tub—two, and three at a time—by the guards. One of the countess’s most evil helpers was the dwarf, Ficzko. Ficzko was always on hand to cut the girl’s throats. Once that was done, they were bled over the tub.

When I stepped into that Hellish liquid the first time, I heard Satan’s voice. I knew he wasn’t there, at least not physically.
“I am pleased with you, Eco.”
I was overcome—not only with his approval, because despite what I occasionally thought, I did so want it.
Suddenly, I threw my head back and shrieked, not in terror but in surprise for it seemed that the blood did in fact have its own energy; she was right. There was something unearthly about what it did to me. I called out in amazement and the countess laughed.

Countless pitchers of blood were poured over us as we sat, luxuriating in it, feeling the power and magic of it all.
Occasionally, we’d rise from the bath and make love for hours in her blood-soaked bed, being too hungry for each other to be dried off first!
If Hell has no time, there was none in her castle for time was meaningless. All one could find were blood, fornication, torture and murder.
My head swam from it; I cannot remember thinking of anything other than the spectacular madness that surrounded me.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, but then things began to change. For one thing, Darvulia was dying; Darvulia who had been all things to the countess—her nurse and her lover too, as well as her teacher in torture and murder.
You see, it was she who had taught her new ways of torture—such as needles under the nails and if the girls pulled them out, their lips were torn off by red hot pincers. Yes, Darvulia had been of much use to the countess. She had always thought of newer methods of torture like having the girls covered in honey and then stung to death by bees. A variation on that was that in winter girls were taken outside where water was poured onto them until they froze to death.
Darvulia was especially clever in her machinations for she always urged the countess to get her victims from the peasantry. However, all this was to change with her death, which would signal the beginning of the end for Bathory.
Darvulia finally died. How the countess mourned her old servant. She railed and shouted for her beloved Darvulia. I did not touch her other than to try and comfort her—but she would not be comforted. She just stayed in her own bedchamber and wept. I was even barred from entering.
Then, someone came to replace Darvulia. This woman was a widow, a farmer’s wife. Erzsi Majorova had arrived.
The gossip was—and yes, there was plenty of gossip—that Bathory had actually sent for her for she needed someone to help with the torture. The other servants could help, but they were of limited intelligence. Bathory wanted someone cleverer than that and Erzsi was very willing and keen.
The killings and torture began again, but with a difference that would prove fatal, for Erzsi encouraged the taking of girls from the nobility. I tried to warn Bathory but she would not listen.
She had changed; Darvulia’s death had done it. I think she had a kind of breakdown. Well, she was never entirely sane, but now she was worse.
I still bedded her but it was different; she was different. Whereas I was enough for her before, now if I bedded her she needed to have girls screaming in agony nearby. Yes, Rose, I am well aware of what that makes me look like.
Her torturing and killing reached a fever pitch for she was insatiable, worse than ever. Even I was beginning to sour on her and her excesses.
Now a very interesting thing happened. Since the new victims were of noble birth, she insisted on giving them a Christian burial and engaged a pastor to perform the services. But, as more dead bodies came to him, he began refusing to perform the rites, so she started to have the bodies buried secretly.
Once again, I tried to warn her.
“You must stop. You will draw attention to yourself!”
Yes, Rose, I was still seeking to protect her!

She would not listen. Had I known what would happen, I’d have created her for I still did care for her despite her monstrousness.
Then something happened very unexpectedly. She was stopped. The government in the guise of the Palatine came and told her various complaints had been received. Now, as with Gilles de Rais, since the nobility was beginning to be victimized, the officials were ready to take notice. Murdering girls from the upper classes was an outrage, never mind that hundreds of peasant girls had been slaughtered over the years.
The countess took no heed of my warnings. She had her servants toss out four murdered girls from the castle ramparts in full view of the villagers!

“I don’t care! They won’t dare to stop me. I can do as I wish!”
She felt she was above the law. Well, if you think about it, she had been for the longest time.

When I saw what she had done, I exploded in anger—truly, I did. She ordered me from the castle.

“Get out, get out, you gutless devil!”
I did in a fury.

Her castle was eventually raided and what they found there was shocking as you can imagine. Her reign of terror was finally over.
It was decided that she be held in her castle. She was not to appear before the court. This she had begged for and it was to be so. There were two trials though for the others who were not above the law.
The court took testimonies of her four accomplices and their sentences were pronounced. They testified that the body count only numbered between thirty and sixty, but a fifth witness placed the number at over six hundred.
This witness had come forward to reveal a register that was written in the Countess's own handwriting. This was the proof that the number of girls killed was over six hundred.

The servants were judged guilty. Two of the women had their fingers pulled out; they then were burned alive. Ficzko received more mercy because of his youth and was decapitated. His body was then drained of blood and burned alongside his two accomplices. The widow, Erzsi, was also found guilty and executed.
As for Bathory, she was to be imprisoned in her castle. Stonemasons came to wall up the windows in her bed chamber. Once she was inside, they walled up the door, leaving only a small hole for food to be passed through.
I was still under her spell and could not stop thinking about her. I felt guilty, too. I was filled with recriminations for I hadn’t created her.
But I hatched a plan..."
(End of excerpt)
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