The Unknown Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novella (3 page)

And in the middle of the room, standing on a broad table like a preacher behind his podium, was the witch hunter. Gaunt and willowy, with a thin and well-waxed moustache adding dark lines to his reddened face, he swayed as he barked at the people in the room. His clothes were a mishmash of clerical clothing and haggard traveller’s garments, all greys and charcoal blacks. A large crucifix hung in a thick silver chain around his neck. He could have been a local fool from any village, but his eyes gave away the depth of his madness: red from his zealous fire, and very likely from strong drink, they spoke of a rabid mind.

From what Jany could make out of the man’s cries, he was condemning all people in league with the devil, those who were related to such people, and also their friends and their neighbours. Possibly the room itself was at risk of being corrupted. There was no mistaking the message: no one was safe. Everyone was suspect. And now, the man crooned, evil had slipped into the very heart of the city, finding its way to the duke’s court where it had perverted the servants of a valued guest.

Two maids had become member of the devil’s brigade. The marks on their necks, he screamed, were plain for all to see, and meant only one thing. They were
vampires
, minions of death and bringers of destruction. Only one thing could save their souls: they had to be put to the fire. People had to show the devil what happened to his servants. There were no alternatives. Everyone’s life was at stake.

As the man howled his judgement, gasps and half-shouted agreements rose from the crowd. The noise was deafening. Wondering where these supposed bite marks truly had come from, Jany found herself looking at the Lady whose servants were accused. Given how the stately, beautiful woman’s face was contorted with rage, the servants were probably doomed whether or not they were sentenced to death by the witchfinder.

Seeing such anger on a face that beautiful was strange. That rich, golden hair and those large eyes were sharp contrasts to the wrath that rolled off the woman like invisible waves. What would the baroness’s smile look like? It would probably be irresistible. Those full lips would curve wide and make Jany weak in a flash. Weak, and more. The baroness’s graceful neckline and long limbs suggested a strong, beautiful body. Together with those lips, she could make anyone breathless.
And naked,
Jany thought,
the baroness would look astonishing, with her –

The image filled her mind in a flash and led to the kind of wishful thinking that always haunted her when she met beautiful women. Even these frightening circumstances could not stop her imagination. Watching the baroness’s mouth, perfect and sensual despite the woman’s stone-like expression, she pictured what it would feel like to touch those lips.
What if the baroness is like me? What if she longs to have another woman caress her, make her quiver and sigh, press her lips to –

Jany realized that she was staring at the baroness, and worse –
much
worse! – the baroness was looking back at her. The woman’s eyes were so blue they looked like the vivid colours on an artist’s palette. With an effort, Jany snapped her head away and turned back at the so-called witchfinder. The man was turning around with his arms spread wide, as if showering his unnerved audience with distrust. When his gaze found Jany, he stopped.

Caught in the man’s wild stare, Jany felt exposed and vulnerable. Unconsciously, she took a step back, only to realize that someone had closed the door behind her. She stifled a curse. Being near this frenzied madman was bad enough; she did
not
want to be at the centre of his attention.

“Aha,” the duke called out when he also spotted Jany. His call quieted the commotion around him, and everyone turned to look her way. “The scribe has arrived,” he announced. “At last, we can end this spectacle.”

Hoping nobody would notice how she was shaking, Jany curtsied the way she always did when she was called to the court. Not that this was a courtroom, but unless she was wrong, a verdict would be passed here tonight.

“How can I be of assistance, my lord?” Jany did her best to ignore the hundreds of sweaty, wide-eyed faces that looked her way.

Cries of
burn the
witches, hang the devil worshippers
sprung up from the nervous mass, but the duke waved everyone to silence. He stood up, wiped his face with a handkerchief and cleared his throat.

“It appears that the darkness that plagues our town has come into my home,” he said slowly. “Somehow, two of the servants of my dear guest, the Baroness of
Orable
– ” The duke paused to bow to the baroness, who acknowledged him with a thin smile that could have frozen a bonfire in an instant. “As I was saying,” the duke continued, “two of the baroness’s maids have become victims to a terrible evil, and – ”

“Vampire!” the witchfinder bellowed. “Unholy creatures, wretched abominations, ravagers of honest souls!”

The duke cleared his throat again, this time more pointedly. The witchfinder fell silent and glowered at Jany.

“We need to ask for the lord’s mercy as soon as possible – “, the duke began.

“Praise the lord!” the witchfinder cried and pointed at the ceiling.

“...
but it is late
,” the duke shouted, “and there are many hours left before the sunrise. The two women are locked in my deepest dungeon, and will be held there until they can be judged and sentenced.”

Still reeling from the chaotic scene, Jany imagined the dungeons below the floor on which she stood
.
A web of hollows, burrowing into earth and stone like an ever-dark honeycomb. It had to be a nightmarish place. When she noticed that the duke still was looking at her, she tried to think of something to say. If only everyone would stop staring.

“How will it be decided if the women are guilty?” she asked.

“The demons will stand trial at dawn,” the witchfinder said, his voice now dropping almost to a growl. “Bound in chains, they will be put on a hill so that they face the Lord’s glorious sun. Then God will reach out through sun’s rays.”

Unsure how that would prove anything, Jany nodded and tried to hide her frown as she wrote down the man’s words.

“And
then,” the witchfinder went on so sharply that Jany blotched her paper, “if the women are pure after all, the lord will embrace their souls and set fire to their flesh.”

“
Pardon?
” Jany blurted, surprised. “My lord,” she added when the witchfinder’s eyes narrowed. “Is my lord saying that the women will burn if they are innocent?”

The self-proclaimed holy man on the table changed his tone like an actor in a play. “The lord’s love is unending and second to none, but it is also demanding.” His voice turned lecturing. “The sheer intensity of such attention is like the sun. The destruction of one’s body is a small price to pay for such a reward, you see. I am sure you see how it all makes sense.”

Jany wished this was a scene at a market theatre, but fear beamed from everyone in the room like a cold mist. This was real, and it was dreadful.
That makes absolutely no sense at all, you deranged, unpleasant lunatic.

“Of course, my lord.” Jany paused before she continued. “And what if the sun does not harm them?”

“Then their guilt is proved,” the witchfinder said, now in a low and menacing tone of voice. “And they will suffer the flames like the infernal creatures they have become. It may sound cruel, but they are not worthy to exist. We must burn them as the villains they are.”

Jany opened her mouth and quickly closed it again. More than one woman had found herself imprisoned because of explaining the obvious to those who did not want to hear it.

“My staff will summarize the affair for you tonight,” the duke said to Jany. “Tomorrow, justice will be served at first light. You will take note of all that happens and document it in detail.”

“Yes, my lord.” Jany produced her writing board and wiped her quill on a small cloth.

The duke rose and addressed the room. “No one leaves until the morning,” he commanded. “The streets are too unsafe.”

Jany felt her stomach plummet. No matter how nice a room the duke might offer, spending the night locked up with this near-berserk crowd was an unpleasant idea. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, “but I do not mind going home.”

“That is not an option.” The duke stepped away from his tall chair and was immediately joined by a swarm of nervous servants. “Everyone will stay here for the night. I will not have anyone’s blood on my hands. We must be vigilant and look out for more dangers, should the devil have perverted more people than the two unfortunate maids.”

“Indeed,” said the baroness flatly. When Jany glanced at her, the woman was looking at the witchfinder, who in turn pranced as if basking in the baroness attention. His smile was fox-like and full of white perfect teeth. Either he did not notice the baroness’s barbed gaze, or he did not care. Both alternatives struck Jany as equally stupid.

“And,” the duke added with a stern face, “
no one
must approach the dungeons. My best guards will man all doors. Now, my staff will see you to your rooms. Sleep safely, and stay alert.”

*

Jany was ushered out of the room in a flurry of dresses, uniforms, raised voices and alarmed cries. Guided by bowing and flustered servants, the nobles and their servants hurried away towards their rooms. Last to leave among the aristocrats was the baroness, who exited the hall with a pointed glare at the witchfinder. Jany wondered if she blamed him for what had happened to her two maids, or if she simply was too wise to be fooled by the fanatical man’s theatrics.

The soldiers remained, scowling at everyone and fingering their swords. Those armed with crossbows watched the windows as if expecting monsters to crash through them. The story about the man falling through a roof came to Jany’s mind, and she shuddered.

Before she had time to reflect on what had been said in the room, she found herself in a small damp chamber not much larger than the slim bed that occupied it. As soon as she was inside, the elderly maid who had led Jany to her room for the night showed Jany how to bar the door.

“A lady can’t be safe enough,” she whispered and looked over her shoulder. “Too many strange things prowl the streets. Even the castle, now. Good thing the duke managed to lock up those vampire creatures. Tomorrow, they’ll suffer!” She nodded briskly as if to reassure herself that the danger was over, then hurried away and closed the door behind her.

Jany looked around. The fluttering light from a torch outside that had survived the rain shone through a narrow window, and it was enough for Jany to see most of the small room’s features. A narrow bed, a candlestick holder in an alcove, and a small stool at the foot of the bed. Underneath the smell of wet stone was a faint whiff of mould and dust. At least the mattress looked soft.

Sitting down heavily on the bed, Jany sighed and put aside her satchel with her writing tools. Stuck in a castle along with a host of anxious aristocrats on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown. And maybe two vampires. A few months ago, she would have laughed at the notion of such beings, but the endless barrage of gossip was making her wonder. The city had become a cauldron of weird sightings, and while townsfolk exaggerated rumours as naturally as breathing, it took only one story to be true for anything to be possible. And those guards had been visibly unnerved.

Vampires.

Among the many supernatural creatures said to roam forests and cities, vampires were popular. Descriptions of all kinds ran rampant throughout the country. Strangely, whenever Jany pressed those who spread the stories, few had actually seen a vampire. Not a single on one she had asked could say they had laid eyes on one.

Still, that did not stop people from gossiping about what their friend’s brother-in-law’s probably made-up uncle had seen. Vampires were winged and had horns. No, they were half-invisible and could not speak. Wrong, they were like sirens, hypnotizing their victims through beautiful song until they fell asleep, and then stole their clothes and their lifeblood. Report upon report fed into each other and became a tornado of crazed talk.

Some things, however, the rumours agreed on: Vampires were bloodthirsty, they were fanged, and they were devious. Shrewd and murderous undead monsters attacking at random. Imagining a more frightening creature was hard.