Captive of the Midnight Vixens

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Sinister Symbol

A pattering of rain fell on our heads as we waited for the door to open. After what must have been at least five minutes, the ponderous, four-inch thick door swung inward. A short, bald, scrawny man was straining backward, tugging at the inside handle with both his hands. He could hardly be taller than four and a half feet tall at the most, and couldn’t weigh more than ninety- pounds. The skin on his face was the color and texture of parchment. His smiling lips parted like a crack in leather.

“Oh, my Lady Valeska,” he said with a high-pitched, whiny voice, “I’m so relieved to see you safely home. We were concerned...”

“It’s alright, Vidov,” she said, patting his broomstick-thin forearm. “This American gentleman found me and graciously offered to help me.” She turned toward me, “Mr. Roy Travis, this is our faithful butler, Vidov. He’s been with the family since my grandfather’s marriage.”

He gripped my hand with his long, vine-like fingers and shook it. “Thank you, sir, thank you for rescuing our beloved Valeska.” He stepped back and gestured inside, smiling. “Please, sir, come in; come in!”

The foyer stretched out in front of me, and extended far to the left and right. I stared up at the dark ceiling, its heavy oaken beams darkened by more than a century of smoky torches in the wall sconces. They spanned the space from wall to wall, at least twenty-five feet above my head. Arranged around the hewn stone walls were thirteen framed portraits of beautiful young women. I recognized Valeska’s and guessed the others were her sisters.

Valeska glanced up, following the direction of my sweeping observations of the showy architectural display of fading glory. “A bit ostentatious, I’m afraid,” she said. “My great-great-grandfather was related to the royal family, and was not reluctant to display the extent of his wealth and power.”

“Just a bit intimidating,” I replied with a vague smile.

Vidov beckoned. “If you will step this way, sir, I’ll take you to the guest room where you may freshen up and rest until dinner.”

There was an incredibly wide stairway at the far wall of the foyer, leading up to a kind of balcony with more steps stretching up at each side, turned at ninety degrees to climb up into the dusky-dark upper floor. Vidov snatched up a lit candelabrum and sprang up the steps with remarkable vigor, and Karel followed behind me with my back pack. After more than fifteen steps, the stairway ended at the balcony, and a long hallway led on into the mansion, passing several large, ornate doors on the left and right.

“Only a bit farther, sir,” Vidov said, glancing back with a manufactured smile on his parchment face. He stopped at last, inserting a large key into the door’s lock. With a twist, the key scraped the bolt back and he pulled the door open. “I trust this will be satisfactory, sir?” He lit several candles in wall sconces and on the table beside the large, four-poster bed with a canopy overhead. Thunder increased, and flashes of lightning flickered through the narrow, gothic-arched window. Even this one was blocked with strong bars.

I examined the antiquated room with flagging enthusiasm, and exhaled a weary sigh. At least the bed looked inviting and comfortable. “Yes, of course, Vidov. Thank you very much.”

“There’s water and soap, and fresh towels on the side table in the private bathroom through the door to your right. Perhaps you would like to lie down and rest until dinner. I will fetch you in time to change into dinner clothes.”

“Sorry, I didn’t bring any dinner clothes.”

“Oh, sir, if you’ll look in the commode over there against the wall, you’ll find a selection of formal men’s wear for dinner. I’m sure one of the suits will fit you splendidly.”

That’s extremely odd! Why would a family living in this remote mansion in the mountains, surrounded by a vast and wild forest, keep a selection of formal dinner clothes for an unexpected, uncertain visit with a rare gentleman guest?

I just nodded with another artificial smile. Vidov left and I washed up and began to comb my hair. Wait... .

No mirror? Another puzzle.

Well, this was a foreign culture, with many of its customs and ways a mystery to Americans. After all, that’s why I began this walking tour, to learn about these people, and their folktales for my (hopefully) successful book that would earn me my PhD degree.

I lay down on the wonderfully soft bed and in spite of the clamorous thunder, drifted off into a wonderful dream of that tavern maid and I wrapped in each other’s arms again.

***

“He’s magnificent, isn’t he?” The young girl beamed, hugging herself and twisting her torso with delight.

“Kerstina, You shouldn’t have been spying,” Valeska replied. “He might have seen you. Remember, it is our custom to introduce you to our male guests at the dinner table.”

“But it’s been such a long time since we had a new guest to entertain us. Besides, I was careful,” Kerstina replied with a shake of her fiery red hair. “The others are so desperate to know about him that they begged me to watch him.” A dreamy smile spread over her lips. “He looks so big and strong. He will be robust enough for all of us to share.”

Valeska scowled at the petite girl. “You didn’t use one of the spy-holes near the bed in the guest bedroom wall, did you?”

“No, no. I was standing behind the open door of my room, looking down the hallway past the balcony.” She pouted. “It wasn’t a really good look, either.” She grasped Valeska’s hand with both of hers. “Is he really as strong and handsome as I think? Oh, he’s going to be so-o-o wonderful for our use!”

Valeska smiled. “He’s going to be perfect. Now you run along and tell your sisters about him--but remember, no one is to see him until Vidov brings him down to dinner. You will all get to know him then.” She shook her finger under Kerstina’s nose. “Any more disobedience, and I will order Mara, our housekeeper, to punish you.”

The smile faded from the young girl’s face. Her hands tenderly covered her buttocks. “Oh, no, sister. I promise; I promise! We will not disobey you again.” She turned and scampered down the echoing hall to the other girl’s rooms.

***

I awoke to the knock on the bedroom door. It opened slightly, and Vidov poked in his head. “Time to dress for dinner, sir. I shall assist you.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Uproarious thunder and incredibly bright flashes of lightning drew my attention to the window, where a ferocious rain was bucketing down. The storm had moved on into the heights of the farther mountain range. “Thank you, Vidov, but I can manage to dress myself.”

“But sir,” he replied, “My Lady Valeska insists. She wants the evening to be perfect, and requires me to be responsible for your attire.”

“Oh, all right,” I swung my legs off the side of the bed and stood up, yawning and stretching. “What time is it?”

“We do not count time here, sir. There are no clocks in the mansion. We found them unnecessary for our way of life.”

I reached for my wristwatch where I left it in the bedside table. It was missing. “Where’s my watch? Did anyone come into my room while I was asleep?”

Vidov glanced away from my gaze. “Perhaps it fell on the floor and slid under the bed. I will search for it, sir, while you are at dinner.”

“Okay.” A twinge of suspicion flickered in my subconscious, then faded. “Well, let’s get me dressed.”

The evening formal wear was outdated, a style from the Edwardian era at the first decade of this century. The white silk shirt was fringed at collar and cuffs with lace, and the black jacket was long, reaching down almost to my knees. I viewed myself in the tall, oval mirror.

Well, I guess there’s no gentleman’s shop just around the corner in this part of the world. Fashion must never change here, or need to.

I felt something flat and square in the vest pocket of the jacket. I reached in and took out a gold cigarette case. There were still a half-dozen cigarettes in it, stale and dry from age. There were Hungarian words engraved inside;

To dearest Endre from Juliska, all my love forever.

Why would the owner leave behind something he used many times a day? It was obviously rather expensive, and the message inside made it even more precious. I replaced it in the pocket, making a mental note to ask Valeska about it.

Vidov escorted me down the stairs and along an arching hallway. At the end, we passed through wide double-doors into a brightly-lit, large dining room. There were serried ranks of ancestors’ portraits on both side walls, and a warm, cheery glow from the oversized fireplace in the far wall. The long table was set with crystal, china, and the candlelight glittered on a multitude of silver knives, forks and spoons, bowls and platters. The delicious aroma of meat, vegetables and soup from the kitchen triggered a ravenous appetite in me.

But I shall never forget my impression of the thirteen young women arranged around the table. Valeska sat at the far end, in an ornately carved chair signifying her status as administrator of the household. At the closest end was one empty chair waiting for me. On each side there were six chairs, all twelve occupied by the most beautiful and enchanting girls I have ever had the good fortune to meet. At least I thought so at the time. All of them, including Valeska, wore identical crimson red strapless gowns, and sparking on their fingers were gold rings set with a large ruby cut in the shape of a drop of blood. They were of various heights, some tall, some short. They ranged from green-eyed, auburn-haired tiny Anitia, so slim and petite, to Danika, brazenly flaunting her abundant breasts and flaring, feminine curves. One, the blue-eyed strawberry-blonde Stasia, was amply endowed to the point of voluptuous plumpness. Danika stared at me, licking her lips with the tip of her tongue, while Milona, the plain, quiet brunette, would only give me one swift glance before ducking her head and blushing to the color of her gown. The others all smiled at me, some twittering and hiding giggles behind their hands.

Valeska rapped her spoon on her wineglass. “Mind your manners, my sisters. Mr. Travis will think you are all foolish and silly schoolgirls. You’re all old enough to have outgrown that.”

Old enough? Hm-m-m-m, something didn’t seem right about that.

“Mr. Travis, may I introduce my twelve sisters?”

Each girl stood up and curtseyed as Valeska spoke their names. I stood and bowed chivalrously in response.

She gestured to each girl in turn. “On my right side; Zora, Ilka, Danika, Sonja, Radilu, and Pavilli.” She turned her head. “On my left; Fanya, Slavina, Anitia, Milona, Kerstina, and Stasia. All my sisters, all educated together at the University of Transylvania at great expense, all in the same class.”

‘Together in the same classes ... that’s what nagged at my subconscious. All the girls, including Valeska, appeared to be the same age. How could they claim to be sisters?

As if she could read my mind, Valeska answered my doubt.

“Yes, we are all nearly the same age, within a few years, as you have plainly observed. That look on your face is as revealing as speech.”

The girls all giggled and ducked their heads, blushing, except for Kerstina. She continued looking boldly at me.

“My sisters are blushing, Roy, because our father had a roving eye. He often feasted from the delights of many women’s beds.” She glanced around the table, then her eyes returned to mine. “We all have the same father, but all have different mothers.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. I didn’t mean to...”

“We are not ashamed of our parentage.” Kerstina said. “We all are proud to be the issue of passionate love. There is no disgrace in our bloodline. Even though those stupid villagers fear and hate us, we do not regard their censure as worthy of a moment’s consideration.”

“You are very well spoken,” I replied. “Truly, your education and refinement are well represented in your speech.”

She smiled and nodded.

Vidov opened the kitchen door, bringing bottles of chilled wine into the dining room. Rozalia, the light brown-haired cook with the cinnamon colored eyes, and Mara the tall, thin, severe-looking housekeeper strode in behind him, leading four young girls carrying large trays with our soup. They looked at me with sad, frightened eyes, and dared not speak. All had dark bruises on their bare arms.

Vidov poured the wine as the bowls of soup were set before us. Valeska stood up and raised her glass. “A toast to our guest, Mr. Travis. May he be everything to us that we desire.”

The twelve girls lifted their wine, smiling and nodding. “To Mr. Travis,” they replied in unison. Anitia, the petite, auburn haired girl who appeared to be the youngest, covered her giggle with her free hand. Valeska frowned at her, then sipped the crystal clear ruby liquid from her glass.

Dinner progressed pleasantly, with delicious food and cheerful conversation. We hardly noticed the pouring rain in the darkness outside the wide, gothic-arched, stained glass window with the ubiquitous steel bars.

All the sisters had questions about the outside world; about my own America, the western European states, the trouble with Mussolini and Hitler, The discontent and misery in Russia, and the distress of the peasants here in Rumania.

“We hear so little first-hand news,” Valeska said. “If it weren’t for Karel’s short-wave radio, we’d be perilously ignorant of the world’s woes around us.”

The sisters listened eagerly as I talked, leaning forward, their lovely breasts pressing hard to escape into view from their low-cut, crimson gowns. Their eyes glowed, some moist with youthful desire. All of them seemed to be intimately acquainted with events of long-ago, especially the early 18th century, long before the United States had fought the revolution and became free from England.

“It’s our heritage,” Valeska said in response to my ever- inquiring curiosity. “We have little else to capture our interest. Our mansion,” she glanced furtively at her sisters with some secret cautioning in her eyes, “and all that happens in it are our entire life. We no longer travel. It’s too...too risky for us these days.” Her expression darkened and some menacing shape prowled in her smoking eyes. “People say evil things about us. Ignorant, vile things.”

“Awful things,” Kerstina added. “Those ignorant, superstitious old men and women think we are...”

“Quiet, Kerstina!” Valeska said. “Mr. Travis is not interested in tiresome village gossip.”

“Well, perhaps I am,” I replied. “It depends on how old and interesting the tales are. I’m searching for myths and legends to include in my book I’m going to write. There seems to be such a rich and bizarre treasury of tales in the minds of these peasants.”

“Bizarre and foolish,” Valeska said. “Surely an educated man like yourself has no reason to believe...”

“Believe?” I said. “Not believe, but research and disprove. That will make my reputation and assure me of a successful career. I intend to take up all these tales and demolish their appeal by scientifically disproving them all, point by point.”

“An admirable ambition,” Valeska replied. She nodded curtly to her sisters and they applauded my statements.

I suppose I’m a man with carnal desires as vivid and fascinated with the feminine allure as any other young man would be in this situation. So I don’t think my imagination was misleading me with the way the sisters delivered silent messages with their eyes of their physical urges yearning in my direction. Coy smiles, fluttering eyelashes, a tinge of crimson blushes, and the way their fingers toyed with their silken tresses intruded into my baser consciousness. Stasia actually puckered her lips twice when I would glance at her. I began to wonder just what favors their hospitality might include. Well, both wondering and hoping, as the evening wore on. Being in the company of so many beautiful and attentive young women, plus glass after glass of the delicious wine, was working its magic on my brain, and a favorite part of my anatomy began calling attention to itself.

Get a grip, old boy. Valeska would probably kill me if I touched one of her sisters--let alone, all of them. I confess, that image is dancing in the back of my mind; all of them naked and crawling all over my body in my bed, vying with each other for their share of my next gush of creamy elixir.

Valeska’s voice brought me back to reality, “...hope you enjoyed this evening’s dinner, Mr. Travis. We all thank you for your charming company. Now, if you will excuse us, my sisters and I must leave you in the hands of our estate manager, Karel, while we retire to our rooms.”

I stood up as they all rose from their chairs. “And I thank you—all of you—for a delightful evening, and wish you all a peaceful night.”

As they left the dining room, Karel came in and invited me to enjoy a drink and cigar with him in the library. Valeska and the girls disappeared. He and I sat in the large, comfortable chairs and chatted a bit. He mostly asked me questions about America, and the political ferment in Russia, Italy and Germany.

“It’s bad,” he said, shaking his head. “So many young men died in the Great War of 1914, and so many villages were destroyed and people killed. I worry about how much longer our home will remain untouched if that madman Hitler and his horde seize control and has his way.” He pointed at the portraits hung on the walls between the bookcases. “That’s Valeska’s great-grandfather. A great man—a statesman of skill and cunning. A trusted friend and counselor of royalty.”

I exhaled a stream of cigar smoke. “Why then have I never read of him in my history studies?”

Karel leaned forward to the ashtray and tapped the ash from his cigar. “He was worthy of the historian’s notice, but preferred to remain in the background, shielding himself from the indignity of public scrutiny. I am glad he did; the presence here of my ladies and me is a protected secret. We are free of political intrigue, and the vulgar curiosity of the society that would incessantly hound us with pleas for invites and favors. We are happy here, enjoying the intelligent conversation and company of occasional travelers like you. People like yourself provide us with all that my ladies crave.”

Something dark fluttered in his eyes as he spoke those last words--something hiding in his mind.

I’m letting the darkness and this strange place run wild in my imagination. This is the twentieth century, for heaven’s sake. I’m an educated man, not like the people in the village that I met days ago.

We finished our drinks and cigars and Karel excused himself. As he left the room, Vidov came in. “If you wish to retire, sir, shall escort you to your room.”

“Yes, I am tired in spite of my earlier nap. The excellent dinner and wine have made me sleepy.” When I stood up, a wave of dizziness swept through my head.

“Careful, sir. I’ll take your arm so you will not stumble on the stairs.”

“Thank you, Vidov. I must have drunk more wine than I realized.”

He took my arm and led me into the hall, carrying the candelabra with three flickering candles in his free hand. I shuffled up the steps, my head spinning, and we strode down the dimly-lit hall. Suddenly there was a faint, barely perceptible sound; the long, wretched howl of an anguished soul coming from somewhere below, under the mansion.

I gripped Vidov’s collar, my knuckles white. “What was that?”

“What was what, sir?”

“That cry.”

“Cry? I heard nothing.” His eyes ducked away from my gaze. “Probably some starving wolf uttering his grief in the forest outside.” He looked up at my face again, but the life had gone out of his eyes. “The forest is often filled with nightly noises. We no longer listen, or hear them.”

“There were words in that cry, Vidov. A male voice and human words.”

Vidov gently pulled my grip away from his collar. “You are mistaken, sir. You are a stranger here, and do not recognize the cry of a Transylvanian wolf.”

Vidov guided me through the door into my bedroom. I was quickly becoming more groggy and disoriented. He set me down on my bed and undressed me. Laying me down on the soft mattress, he tucked me under the goose-down comforter, and reassured me. “Sleep well, sir, and pay no mind to noises in the night.”

His words were wasted, as I was already asleep. I never felt his sinewy hands tugging at my arms and legs, or whatever it was he attached to my wrists and ankles.

***

The girls were arguing in hushed voices.

“But you promised,” Danika said. “You promised that I would be first to have our next visitor.”

Stasia glanced at Valeska, then back to Danika “She promised no such thing.”

“Did so!”

“Quiet!” Valeska hissed. “If you wake our guest before we are ready for him, you will spoil our whole evening with him.”

Zora challenged her, hands on her hips, “We’re all thirsty, which of us is the lucky girl?”

“We will let fate choose which of us will go to him this first night.” Valeska pulled open a drawer and took out a deck of antique Tarot cards and shuffled them. “Each one of us, including me, will choose one card. You know which card chooses the one of us to be first.” She spread out the cards, face down, on the table. “One at a time,” she said, “eldest first, but I will go last, if none of you are chosen.”

The girls, each in turn, selected one card. They snatched it up and held it before their eyes with both hands to see what card they had; moaning when it wasn’t the one they sought. Last before Valeska was tiny Anitia, the youthful, petite, auburn-haired girl with the radiant, emerald-green eyes. She pondered her choice, her fingers moving uncertainly over the cards.

“Well, hurry up,” Kerstina said. “I want to get my second chance to choose a card.”

Anitia’s hand hesitated over a card while she bit her lower lip. With a brief sigh, she picked it up and looked at it. Her widened eyes lit up and her lips parted in an ecstatic squeal. “He’s mine!” Without another word, she turned the card so all could see it, flaunting her beaming smile. Printed on the card in bold black against a red background was a pentagram.