As always, the world of the Carpathians is the exclusive property of Ms. Feehan, I just want to play in it a little while.
Chapter 3
When he came to her that night, she was ready. Exhaustion and a terrible thirst added to the torment of her body, but she was determined to endure. Tonight it would end, one way or the other.
Deborah didn't try to fight when he took her body, then her blood. When he slashed his chest she drank deeply, ignoring the burning in her throat, knowing she would need all the strength she could get. Reaching deep inside herself, she felt the uncoiling heat begin to rise. She found it, owned it, and controlled it.
Fire rose up and Deborah gathered it up and molded it into a weapon of destruction, focusing it at the monster on top of her. He flew backward off her to hit the wall, stunned surprise giving way to rage on his face. She sat up, righteous anger giving her strength. Fire raged through her body and she raised her arm, clenching her fist and aimed at his chest.
He screamed, a high-pitched wailing, as a burning hole opened in his chest over a blackened and shriveled heart. The heart began to smoke, a sickening stench permeating the room. He clawed at his chest, screaming and cursing. He fell on the floor, crawling toward her, reaching for her with his extended claws. Then it was over. He collapsed at her feet.
Calmly, almost without thought, she used her fire to completely destroy the body, burning it from the inside, leaving only a pile of ash behind. She felt strangely at peace now that she was free of him. Her other life seemed so long ago and far away, it was as if someone else had lived her life, had married her husband, had born her child. This present Deborah had been in terror and misery forever.
It took all the strength she could muster to get to her feet and go through the door. A set of narrow steps lead upward. Dragging her naked, battered body up one step at a time she crawled to the top to find another, open, door. She pulled herself to her feet again and held onto the door frame. A burning cramp started low and spread up through her body. She doubled over, gasping for breath, waiting for it to pass.
When she could move again, Deborah looked at her surroundings. In the gloom, she could tell she was in a farmhouse kitchen that looked very familiar. It occurred to her that she could see unusually well in the dark.
She made her way into the next room and recognized the furnishings. It was the home of her neighbor, Mrs. Ellis, a widow who had died during the winter. Surprisingly, it did not appear to have been looted, though there was a bundle on the floor that was out of place.
The sound of someone sobbing came from the bundle. Deborah staggered over to the form and saw that it was a young woman. Anger flooded through her at the thought that the monster had taken someone else to abuse.
Deborah felt another wave of pain beginning as she frantically worked to untie the rope binding the girl's hands and feet. She wanted this girl to be able to escape before having to face the monster Deborah would become. The knots loosened before she doubled over and writhed on the floor, barely able to breathe through the pain. Her vision faded and darkened.
She felt cool hands on her face, brushing back her hair. A lantern had been lit and there was a fire in the hearth. A young, red-haired girl leaned over her ,concern on her face along with many bruises.
"You need to get away from here. Away from me. I'm going to be like him. I'm going to be a monster." She could hardly get the words out.
"There is no evil in you. I have to help you. I don't know where he went, but I'm afraid he'll return. We both need to get out of here." The girl's voice was anxious.
"He won't be back. He's dead." Deborah saw relief on her face. "He forced me to take his blood three times. He said it would make me like him," Deborah croaked the words as another wave of pain took her.
The girl bathed her face then held her head while she vomited over and over. She brought water so Deborah could rinse out her mouth and moisten her throat. Then she found a blanket to put over Deborah's bruised and battered body. Again Deborah begged her to run away and again the girl refused to leave her.
"I can't leave you like this. You are not evil. That monster cannot create evil where it does not exist. In any case, I'm meant to be here." That was an intriguing statement Deborah didn't have the strength to pursue.
"Tell me who you are and how you came here," Deborah asked her when she could speak again.
"My name is Belle Foster and I was accosted as I walked back to my house from our outhouse. The men who took me enjoyed hitting me and telling me other things they would like to do to me. After I was brought here, that creature to care to tell me in great detail what was going to happen to me. He liked my fear."
"What did he tell you?"
"He said I would provide food for himself and his mate. He said he would make me last for a long time before he allowed me to die, if he allowed me to die. He said other things I don't want to think about."
"Well, things didn't quite work out that way, did they?" They smiled at each other, though there was little humor in it.
Belle helped Deborah into bed in the main bedroom just off the front room. She bathed Deborah's body and clothed her in a gown she found in a trunk. She stayed with Deborah through the long night, alternately praying and weeping in helpless sympathy, as wave after wave of agony caused the woman's body to convulse.
It was nearly dawn when the pain began to subside and Deborah sank into a deep and death-like sleep. Belle wept with relief and she made sure the windows were covered and the room was dark. She finally sank down next to the other woman on the bed and followed her into sleep.