Bela turned the knob of the lantern, giving more fuel to the dancing flame within. Light shone across the stone corridor, banishing the deepest shadows in sight. With a gentle tug of Ethan's arm, Bela led him down the hallway.
"When our servants… fail to meet expectations, or prove they are of no more use to us…" Bela's euphemisms were mildly concerning. "We drain their blood and harvest their flesh for sustenance."
Ethan fought to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine just as they rounded the first corner. The swaying lamplight illuminated the numerous vacant dungeon cells on either side of them. The cells were void of occupants but were by no means empty. Some housed wooden torture racks, caked in years-old dried blood. Others had hardy chairs with rusted shackles on the armrests and legs. Despite the lantern's best efforts, the light failed to reach the farthest shadows of each cell. There was no telling what prowled in the inky darkness, pressed up to the corners of each wall and hidden from sight.
An abrupt, mild wave of nausea ran over Ethan the more Bela's statement sunk in – of how simple people trying to make a living were lured in and murdered in this castle. Bela could profess all she wanted of how it was done out of necessity, but that didn't make him feel any less sick.
"The flesh of some of the others is not suitable for our consumption," Bela explained in a soft voice, leading Ethan down the corridor. The lamp cast long shadows into the countless abandoned cells in the dungeon. "At some point prior to their demise, they were infected by this local strain of mold."
Ethan's stomach dropped. He tore his eyes from the creeping shadows in each corner so he could look at Bela – who appeared none the wiser. She kept her gaze ahead, either not caring for or not noticing his stare.
"Upon being drained of their blood, they do not die. Instead, they lose all sense of personality or self." A gentle frown marred Bela's brow, like in consideration of a puzzle she had yet to solve. "They are husks of their former selves, starving for blood. These are the Moroaice."
Maybe he'd become one of them when Bela or her sisters inevitably drank him dry. He already had the mold infection to show for it.
Bela made no mention of the Moroaice's blood being unfit for consumption, only their flesh. It begged the question of how Cassandra had found the bits of flesh from his arm, and his entire ring finger to be palpable. Was his infection not as severe as those of the castle's doomed servants? Was it because his flesh had been taken while he was alive?
"Honestly, I would rather put the poor creatures out of their misery." Bela towed Ethan along and around one corner, leading them to another long hall of decrepit cells, molded and rusted from disuse. "But Mother prefers that they remain down here as a security measure. Any intruders would be sniffed out in moments."
They come in with high hopes of earning Lei and providing for their families. A misstep later and they're drained dry and eaten or forced to wander the dungeons in a state of perpetual thirst.
This was one of those cruel fates that seemed far, far worse than death.
In spite of the grievous thoughts, Ethan's instincts for self-preservation resurfaced. The fallen, corrupted servants could sniff him out. And here they were, waltzing down the dungeons with Ethan like a roasted pig on a silver platter. His man-blood was bound to have them crawling out of the woodwork in moments.
"So, how is this," A little nervously, Ethan nudged Bela's arm, still loosely curled around his, "A precaution?"
"Try not to breathe too much," Bela instructed.
"What?"
Ethan should have learned by now that things worked out best when taking Bela's word for it. The smell of decay began to permeate the air, originating from Bela. Ethan gagged, raising his free hand to his face to cover his nose. The musty, bitter odor of rot persisted, assailing Ethan's senses.
The vile, maggot-ridden pot of guts and innards from the dreaded Baker Family dinner came to mind. An abrupt, nerve-deep itch tingled along the inside of Ethan's mouth – the ghostly pain of Jack Baker trying to pry his mouth open with a fucking knife. He could nearly taste the blood seeping from his sliced gums.
"By regulating my pheromones, I am able to produce an… unpleasant smell," Bela smiled, almost sheepishly when she saw his face. "The odor is enough to overpower your sweet man-blood. It should keep the Moroaice at bay."
Nearly on cue, raspy groans rattled out from the dark as they traversed the twisting labyrinthian dungeon. Ethan's eyes strained to see into the shadows which the lantern failed to reach. Focusing on their potential attackers was all Ethan could do to avoid processing the smell of Bela's ghoul-be-gone pheromones.
That and, as he'd been often thinking about, mapping out the turns they were taking. Bela pointedly avoided certain bends and turns in the dungeon, which led God knows where. In Ethan's mind, he drew it all out and committed it to memory as best as he could. It didn't help that the dungeon was completely shrouded in darkness, with the only source of light being their lantern.
Wall-mounted torches and lamps could be seen along the corridors and chambers, but they had long since been forgotten. There were the tiniest landmarks which worked in Ethan's favor though – three suspiciously deep gashes on a corner wall, scorch marks on the floor by one turn, or maybe a broken torch holder down to the left. They weren't much, but beggars – or blood-cattle prisoners – couldn't be choosers.
Ethan really needed his damn journal back. He had to sketch the map out before his short-term memory junked all the information.
As the minutes ticked by, Bela resumed speaking. It seemed she wasn't too fond of the dead air between them. Ethan was content to keep his mouth shut because that meant avoiding taking bigger and more frequent breaths. He wasn't keen on inhaling the delightful aroma Bela used to repel the creatures.
"The Moroaice do not make for very obedient lab rats. They are highly uncooperative." Bela's quiet voice was nonchalant and conversational. "It took quite a while before I was able to discern the presence of the mold infecting them."
That was another point in the Dr. Bela Dimitrescu corner. Diagnosing patients even when reduced to blood-starved husks.
"Thankfully, our servants were much more helpful. I was able to take some blood samples and swabs. That led to the small breakthrough I mentioned earlier of the mold. Those who were infected by the mold returned as Moroaice. Those who were not infected simply died when drained of blood."
Bela's problem-solving and curious nature was commendable, despite the macabre nature. It was a wonder Ethan hadn't been strapped to a table and experimented on yet. His regenerative abilities must be gnawing at her curiosity.
With a pinched nose, Ethan asked in a nasally voice, "How did they get infected in the first place?"
Bela brought them to a stop, but they were still quite clearly a way off from the exit. Cells flanked them on either side, and the dank corridor extended far beyond the lamp's range. She craned her head towards Ethan; her hand landed back up on his bicep. The expression she wore was equal parts excited and frustrated.
"That is the golden question, isn't it?" Bela squeezed his arm. "I brought my findings to Mother once, but she was awfully evasive about the whole thing. I suspect she knows more than she lets on – or may even be involved."
A low, guttural growl pierced the air before Ethan could reply. Bela's eyes tightened towards one dark corner on the left. Her lips curled into a fierce scowl. Ethan himself was straining to see into the darkness. The lantern's flame swayed from where they stood, until finally, the shadows shifted ever so slightly.
The tall, gangly silhouette just barely stood out from the dark shadows around it. Emaciated limbs led to slender, clawed fingers, which twitched in anticipation.
"Apologies," Bela spoke without tearing her eyes off the creature lying in wait. "Let us keep moving."
Ethan didn't need to be told twice. He stuck to Bela's side like glue as they resumed their brisk pace.
It just so happened that Ethan's foot caught on a long-forgotten pair of manacles on the floor.
The deafening ring of the rusted chains echoed off the walls. The noise bounced against every corner of harsh stone, signaling their presence to the entire dungeon. Ethan's stomach plummeted, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the gravity of his unlucky misstep set in. Bela tightened her arm around his and took a deep breath.
The commotion Ethan had caused was answered back with a series of groans and ghastly moans from all around them.
"I thought you said your pheromones would be enough to keep them back." It wasn't Ethan's most mature move to shift the blame to Bela. It was his nerves doing the talking at the moment. He was preoccupied scanning their immediate surroundings. More and more predatory silhouettes were distinguishable from the pitch darkness beyond the lantern's range.
Bela hissed back at Ethan, "I'm not the one who just rang their dinner bell!"
"Can't you like – tell them to go away?!" Ethan asked in a frantic voice.
"I do not have control over them!"
The smell of decay and rot emanating from Bela dissipated now that their cover was blown. Bela withdrew her arm from Ethan's. Before he could make a fuss of it, Bela turned, and her solid back pressed flat against his own.
He should not have found such a sense of security from standing back-to-back with Bela.
But he did.
Ethan would have thought their best course of action would be to run, given that he was still very much unarmed. It was soon apparent why Bela had opted for them to hold their ground. The Moroaice were closing in at an alarming rate, and from all sides. If they sped down the corridor now, they'd slam face-first into the incoming monsters.
Bela and Ethan stood facing the prison cells to either of the main corridor's sides. Their rusted doors were wide open, giving free reign for the Moroaice to advance. Ethan raised his arms up in a ready stance. They had to keep this quick and simple – just buy some breathing room so they could make a run for it.
The stillness was finally broken by the first Moroaică lunging forward. With the flickering light of Bela's lamp, Ethan got a good look of the Moroaică's dark, hollowed eyes, and its sharp, jagged teeth.
Ethan leaned back and found Bela's form strong and stable, supporting his shifting weight. His foot coiled and released, landing a powerful kick right in the creature's midsection. It went tumbling back from the force of the impact. The Moroaică knocked right into another one of its kind behind it, sending them to the harsh floor in a heap of tangled limbs.
A feral hiss from behind had Ethan craning his head in alert, shoulders rising up to protect his neck. Bela had it covered. With his feet firmly planted on the ground, Ethan acted as Bela's inadvertent springboard to push off of. She launched herself a good several feet towards the incoming ghoul. Her elbow knocked into its jaw with enough concussive power to send it crashing into the cell it came from.
Bela's own head turned back to meet his gaze. Her golden eyes lit up with alarm, and she called out, "To your left!"
Ethan snapped his attention to the side and registered the threat – a Moroaică carrying a goddamn sword swinging it down at him. Chris had swung enough sticks at Ethan in training for this to become instinct now.
His body moved of its own accord – recreating practiced movements that had been drilled into his system. Ethan ducked slightly to give his head and chest some leeway. His left forearm intercepted the ghoul's own. He took a step forward, twisting his hips into place as his right arm hooked into position under the Moroaică's shoulder. With a vicious pull and a turn, Ethan hurled the unsuspecting Moroaică in a textbook shoulder throw. The creature crashed down hard as the sword loudly clattered on the floor. Ethan rocked its skull against the ground in a debilitating stomp.
Ethan's eyes snapped to and fro in the flickering lamplight to locate the most immediate threat. Bela had been hard at work kicking and knocking the creatures away on her side. Right now, she was preoccupied keeping one more Moroaică in place, gripping it by its snapping jaws.
Thus far, none of the ghouls had been explicitly targeting Bela. They were after him, the guy with man-blood ripe for the taking. Bela was simply an obstacle in their way. That was, until now.
One of the Moroaică was creeping up behind Bela, sharp claws flexing in anticipation.
Ethan could stand by and let Bela get mauled. It was certainly an option.
More realistically though, she would take the kid gloves off and outright kill the creatures to defend herself if necessary. Right now, she was just creating space. Escape wasn't exactly an option, either. He'd be running lost in the darkness. Being ganged up on by a group of the Moroaice was more probable than actually surviving long enough to find the exit.
Not to mention, after Bela (undoubtedly) survived the encounter, she'd be pretty pissed at him for standing by with his mouth agape – especially after she'd made the effort to warn him of danger.
With a slight sigh, Ethan lunged at the Moroaică to Bela's rear. His foot slammed into the back of its knee, and his hands gripped fistfuls of its tattered robes. Ethan jerked back, sending the creature crashing on top of the Moroaică he'd thrown prior. A stomp to its face thoroughly knocked the Moroaică's lights out.
Bela immediately repaid the favor. After smashing her current quarry into the cell wall, she turned around and lurched towards Ethan as a swarm of beating wings. Her hand hooked the nape of his neck, pulling him back; she reformed in the spot he'd been standing in. Ethan fought to regain his footing as he stumbled forward, catching himself on the heavily damaged cell wall, right above the unconscious ghoul.
Ethan turned in time to witness Bela's appearance flicker, allowing a massive battle axe to harmlessly pass through her. The blade bounced off the stone floor with an earsplitting clang. She regained form and mass, in time to pull her fist back.
Bela had a mean right hook.
The creature was knocked off its feet and sent sailing into the closest cell wall. The metal bars were no match for the sheer kinetic energy. The iron wall groaned, deforming on impact before the Moroaică hit the floor.
With their immediate surroundings clear, Bela leapt towards Ethan. This was probably the first time he readily welcomed Bela's swirling mass of flies. She got into place by Ethan's side, hooking her free arm around his waist. With a jolt, they were airborne, and Ethan was being carried at Bela's side. It wasn't unlike a mailman carrying a hefty package.
The surreal feeling of levitating inches off the floor would take some getting used to. For now though, Ethan focused on the path ahead. They weren't moving as quickly as they had been when Bela first locked Ethan up. It was easier to register the turns and the landmarks this time around.
The pace they moved at was still quite rapid, and with good reason. The Moroaice's groans continued to bounce off the walls, a little too close for comfort. His winded panting, and the woosh of air rushing past them were the only sounds to join the creatures.
Seconds continued to trickle by, and the rattling, starving moans of the Moroaice grew distant. Bela gradually slowed down the rushing speed of their flight. Ethan's shoes dragged on the ground for a moment until they came to a full stop. The corridor they were in was rather difficult to distinguish from all the rest. But Ethan did notice the smell of mold and disuse had toned down by a degree. They were approaching more frequently used passages. If Bela saw fit to continue walking from here, then it was probably safe.
Bela pulled Ethan upright from the position she'd been carrying him in. He silently rejoiced at the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.
His heart was still bouncing against his ribcage, and he had to make the conscious effort to turn his exhausted panting into slow, deep breaths. His forehead was damp with sweat. The short fight had proved far more taxing than Ethan expected. It may have been a side effect of all the blood lost within the past twenty-four hours. He probably needed more proper rest and sustenance to get back into top shape. An encounter like that usually wouldn't have been enough to faze him.
Bela's hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. The dark tattoo on her forehead creased in a slight frown. Her amber eyes ran all along his face, and then up and down his body – checking him for damage, Ethan realized. He would have done the same for Bela, if it weren't for the fact that she was essentially invincible.
To break the silence, Bela simply said, "Those were the Moroaice."
"Yeah," Ethan muttered in between fatigued breaths, "No shit."
"How stretched are those legs of yours?" Bela cracked a sarcastic smile.
"Yeah, they're really fucking stretched for sure." Ethan scoffed, "I'd say we could go back now, but I'd rather not run into all those-"
Ethan bit back on his colorful tongue. Monsters, freaks, and fuckers were all his immediate words of choice. He reminded himself they were none of those things. They were victims. Much like he and Rose were – except it was far too late for the Moroaice. At least he and his daughter had a fighting chance. The best deal the Moroaice could get now was being put out of their misery.
"Those people," Ethan finished.
Bela looked into his eyes, seemingly searching. When she found whatever it was that she was looking for, she nodded. Her hand slid down his shoulder to land by his elbow, pausing as if waiting for permission.
"Shall we?" Bela asked.
Wordlessly, Ethan gave her the room to lace her arm around his once more. Bela returned to her spot, flushed against his side – a precaution, she would probably justify.
Bela soon picked up where she left off as they continued walking down the dark corridors. "How the maidens came into contact with the mold eludes me, but what truly interests me is the extent and the prevalence of this mold."
Ethan felt like he already knew the answer, but he asked anyway, "Why's that?"
A light laugh, and Bela spoke in that nearly excitable tone of hers, "Because it is everywhere. The mold and its… derivatives are responsible for all matter of things around here that you would likely consider… unusual or beyond natural."
There could only be so many strains of super-mold in the world. The same mold that coursed through his veins and let him heal at a supernatural rate had to be the same thing that was going around here. The goddamn wolfmen, the giant fucker with the hammer, these Moroaice, and even –
"Even your mother?"
Ethan felt like it had to be asked. The tall woman's unnatural size being attributed to super-mold wouldn't be the craziest thing he'd learned if true.
The sly smile Bela flashed told Ethan all he needed to know.
"Even you?" Ethan added.
He had absolutely no way of comprehending how mold could allow a person to turn into a swarm of sentient flies. But again, stranger things had happened, and were only continuing to happen.
A soft chuckle, and Bela gave his arm a squeeze. "That man-brain of yours catches on quickly."
"Yeah, surprisingly." Ethan let out a huff, "With how little blood it gets these days, it's a wonder I'm not braindead or comatose."
"Do not be so melodramatic." Bela rolled her eyes before nudging his side, "I wouldn't drink you to the point of causing lasting harm."
The charming smile Bela graced him with was disarming. He could legitimately believe the sentiment. She'd done nothing to prove otherwise during his entire stint in captivity so far.
The same couldn't be said for all the Moroaice who'd been drained dry.
"Sure." Ethan attempted to shrug it off.
They soon rounded another corner, and this time it appeared to be the last one. A stairwell to their left led upstairs to the kitchen, if memory served Ethan right. His mind was a blur enough as it was – still trying to retain all the turns and bends they took on the way to these stairs. Ethan swiveled his head this way and that, trying to look casual as he did so – just to make sure he hadn't missed anything.
His observation skills were rewarded in the form of a heavy, yet ornate door opposite of the stairs. In the flickering lamplight, Ethan could make out fine engravings on the metal bands that ran along the wooden door. Mounted on fine wood was a brass doorknocker, carved in the image of a pair of crossed swords atop a bed of flowers – it took a second for Ethan to recognize this as the Dimitrescu family's coat of arms, which he'd seen elsewhere in the castle before his capture.
Bela's quarters?
It seemed far too fancy for the dungeon, standing out compared to any other door they'd passed. The coat of arms was also a bit of a giveaway. Though if anyone were to hole up in the dungeon, Ethan would have expected it to be Cassandra – a psychopath like her looked at home amid all the shackles and torture racks. Perhaps Bela enjoyed the solitude, away from her rowdier sisters.
They were climbing up the steps in no time. Bela dimmed the lantern while they ascended. The flame flicked out just as they landed on the top step. With a push, the door swung open, revealing the castle's kitchen and storeroom
It was as Ethan remembered it – void of any hanging human body parts. Although, the room was larger than Ethan recalled. To be fair, Bela had dragged him through at a breakneck speed the last time he was here.
A bright hanging candelabra shed light on the room. Shelves of fresh vegetables and ingredients lined the walls – loaded with garlic, onions, fresh parsley, and much more than Ethan could bother to name. Bags of grains and even more produce littered the corners of the room. It opened up into the kitchen proper, where Ethan could see a number of servants.
Bela gave Ethan a gentle tug, leading him forward through the arch that separated the storeroom from the kitchen. The late afternoon sun peered in through the windows, casting additional light into the room. It had mostly set by now, as was usual this time of year.
Upon crossing the threshold of the arch, the servants – three of them, Ethan counted – once more took a wide berth. They stood by the far corners of the kitchen, lined with more shelves and countertops, along with a central wooden table. It was less archaic than Ethan expected from a castle. He spotted an admittedly fancy looking refrigerator by one side. A modern stove took up some counterspace on yet another side. The microwave oven was probably the most out of place in this gothic castle.
What did look at home in this castle was a white brick woodfired oven which occupied a large portion of the wall opposite the kitchen's exit. The stone oven looked as old as the castle itself. That must be where Bela baked her country bread that Ethan wouldn't even attempt to pronounce.
Bela led Ethan across the room. Deathly silent, the servants in the far corners turned their veiled faces to follow the path they took. Bela paid them no mind, instead focusing on leading Ethan along and out of the kitchen.
They passed one final corridor before arriving at the dining room. It appeared Bela had come prepared. The fireplace was unlit, leaving the room's lighting to the glass chandelier above and the large windows to the left. A thick, clear plastic tarp covered the long dining table and its fine, ornately carved chairs. Numerous tools rested atop the dining table. Another tarp protected the polished wooden floor and the rug which Ethan guessed cost more than his home.
The replacement trim was already prepared – leaning against the doorway they were to work on. It was a deep, chestnut brown with subtle, intricate carvings running all along the length.
Perhaps Bela had been planning to do this with or without his help.
"I asked The Duke to procure whatever materials I may need to get the job done," Bela explained, gesturing to the assortment of tools with her free hand. Her eyes went from the hammers and nails and down to their still interlocked arms. A little awkwardly, Bela pulled her arm back from his.
Truth be told, he too had nearly forgotten about their joined arms. By the time they had gotten to the kitchen, they were still walking with barely an inch between one another. They'd gotten a little too used to the contact, apparently.
At least it meant that Bela was beginning to keep her guard down around him. It was just as planned.
If only it didn't mean he was inadvertently dropping his own guard.
Ethan shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts. It was time to focus on the matter at hand. Thankfully, Bela was of the same mind, as she prompted him, "How do we begin, Mr. Handyman?"
With a lick of his lips, Ethan shrugged slightly, gesturing to the door, "Let's check out the broken molding."
A/N: Thanks so much for reading, my dear readers! Do kindly fave and follow if you haven't already, and drop me a review to let me know how you found this chapter :) I know I said this was going to be a meaty one, but I ran into the same problem of having to publish an 11k+ word chapter if I didn't split this up further. I figured better to put this out now so the editing would be easier, and so I wouldn't be too late to my weekly upload schedule.
Having survived their jaunt through the dungeon, Bela and Ethan are gonna bond over some house (castle) repair work. Stay tuned for that more or less the same time next week.
To my reader who asked if there are going to be lemons - this is the part where I get awfully evasive because I've never written a lemon before, and I'm not sure if this is where I'll start, whoops! We'll see!
I'm looking forward to sharing the next chapter with you lot. Til next time, fellas. Have a good one.
P.S. Check out The Daughters of Castle Dimitrescu by escaptioneer on AO3 for a masterfully written, delightful porn with plot (more like plot with porn, really) centered on the daughters and Ethan. It's sure to scratch your itch for our favorite wicked trio of sisters in between my own updates. Send the author some love. They deserve it.
