The putrid scent of death filled my nostrils. My throat constricted, and I gagged, unable to control my reaction. Undeterred, the Baron's nephew strengthened his grip. The prick of his sharp teeth broke the tender skin of my neck. Frantically, my tiny, tightened fists beat upon his rigid back.
My posture slackened, and I felt my life drain away. I focused on Ranulf's ear. Its tip ended in a sharp point. Wisps of unruly black hair hung over his smooth white forehead. Squirming feverishly against his firm grip, I struggled for release. His head bent deeper into my neck, and I felt a trickle of blood flow beneath my collar. Then, I recalled Papa's advice if a man accosted me. I raised my knee and positioned it between the crook of his legs.
"Ranulf!" Baron von Helfin's sharp voice reverberated around the eerie corridor.
My attacker's form dissipated in the swirl of his black opera cape. High in a cobwebbed corner, a solemn bat stared down upon the frightening scene. Its glowing red eyes blinked as though startled by the commotion.
My ill-used body collapsed, and I slid down the wall. Squatting, the Baron gently placed his arms beneath my shoulders and knees. Lifting me quickly, he carried me into a nearby chamber and put me upon an antique Davenport. Mama perched beside me and encircled my body with her outstretched arm. I buried my head in her comforting bosom and inhaled her sweet lavender scent.
"My deepest apologies, Bella, my dear," Niculai von Helfin politely stated. "Norah is off-limits to Ranulf. Time and again, I have made it abundantly clear. It will never happen again; I promise."
Mama hesitated momentarily. Her cool hand soothed my brow, and she smiled upon me tenderly. In my heart of hearts, I longed for her indignation. Indeed we could not remain in the castle following such a heinous act. Nevertheless, her anxious pallid expression softened. She smiled at her husband, accepting his assurances dutifully.
"Youngblood flows hotly," Mama demurely stated. Then, her lips twitched merrily as though she suddenly realized a joke.
"Ah, yes, young blood," the Baron stated seductively. His thick Romanian accent emphasized each word.
Mama's laughter deepened despite the circumstances. Rising, she threaded her hand through her husband's elbow and leaned against his chest. Methodically, step by step, they departed. Horrified, I gaped at their retreating backs.
Alone, I grappled with my mother's calm withdrawal. I vividly recalled running to her with scraped knees and elbows. Mama soothed my childhood tears with butterfly kisses and bandaged my minor wounds.
"All better?" Mama consistently inquired on such occasions.
"Yes, Mama," my younger self responded. I smiled and skipped off to rejoin my village friends.
Since our arrival in Romania, Mama changed. I called her 'The Baron's Puppet' when my anger against her flared. She constantly clung to him and demurely obeyed his wishes. In the past, she sharply rebuked Papa, called him a prude, and often refused his smallest request. I could not understand her abrupt change of attitude.
I brooded in the isolated bedroom for ages before I finally rose. Sluggishly, I climbed the turret. A cold chill swept through my chamber, and I hugged myself against it. On the table, a solitary candle glowed dimly. It provided little light or warmth.
The fire lay untended. I squatted before it and lit the crumpled paper with the candle flame. When it began to blaze, I sat in my chair and watched the orange sparks dance up the chimney. A faint mist crept in, encircling the furnishings.
A solitary tear formed and clung to my eyelash. Frustrated, I dashed it away. Then, one by one, others trailed down my cheeks and dripped from my chin. Forlornly, I stared into the fire without seeing it.
My jagged thoughts flittered from Mama to Ranulf. My fantasies led me to consider the Baron's nephew a romantic figure. Until the earlier incident, I had not entirely made his acquaintance. However, he often appeared in my wayward thoughts.
I fingered the tiny puncture marks on my neck. Two delicate scabs formed over them. The tip of my nails loosened them, and my blood flowed again.
"Drat!" I exclaimed peevishly. I dabbed at the punctures with my handkerchief and stared at the red smears with disgust. Impulsively, I threw the lacy fabric square into the fire.
Rising, I drifted toward my bed. Two beady eyes stared in at me from the window slit. Aghast, I faced the black bat again.
"Begone!" I shouted, racing toward it with my arm flailing. It immediately flew away. I collapsed across the emerald bedcovering.
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******
When I awoke, Helga Balan hovered over the bed. Clasping a pitcher of warm water to her chest, she stared down at me. I smiled weakly up at her. Carefully, she filled the washbasin from the ewer.
"Ooh, Ranulf had you by the neck last night," she solemnly announced. "Lucky for you, the Baron appeared. Otherwise, he would have…"
"That's enough, Helga," Madame Balan snapped, appearing suddenly with my breakfast tray. The housekeeper put down the tray and swatted her granddaughter's derriere. "OUT!"
The young maid made an 'oof' sound and hustled toward the door. Then, she stopped, pivoted, and stuck her tongue out at the castle chatelaine.
"You mustn't pay attention to my insolent granddaughter," Reveca Balan exclaimed placidly. "I have pled with her, again and again, to curb her imagination. Yet, still…" The housekeeper shrugged in hopeless exasperation.
"Thank you, Madame," I murmured in dismissal. To emphasize my desire for her departure, I turned to my tray.
The usual scone and jam tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I ate mechanically and poured tea from the accompanying pot. As I completed my meal, Helga reappeared. Plopping onto the bed, she curled her legs beneath her. Then, my companion reached for a scone and buttered it. I glared at her familiarity, but she remained at ease.
"Haven't you work to do?" I gruffly questioned.
My companion shrugged nonchalantly. Impertinently, she flopped onto her back and shook her head violently. Her white cap fell off, and her mop of dark hair spread across the old quilt.
"Work?" Helga laughed uproariously. "Does it look as though anyone works around here?"
Exasperated, I shook my head.
"No one cleaned the castle in a thousand years," Helga exclaimed eerily. "The Baron will not allow it."
"Knock it off, Helga," I briskly remarked. "Your tall tales do not entertain me."
"How little you know, Miss High and Mighty," my companion chortled, rolling her eyes into her head. "You have only just arrived. I have lived within the castle precincts for an untold time—a thousand years or more. I have seen…I know…" Raising her arms, she twinkled her fingers mysteriously.
"Please, Helga!" I cried, raising my voice. "Enough!"
The little maid leaped up and scurried toward the door without further ado. With a whisk of black skirts, she disappeared. The heavy door slammed loudly.
Relieved, I sat back against my pillow and glared at the door. It cracked open, and Helga's small face peered in. A hollow grin crossed her face, and she winked.
"I tried to warn you, Miss," she whispered ominously. "You would not listen. Ranulf will take you, my sweet, just as the Baron took your mother. Once you're bit, there's no coming back. A thousand years is an eternity to wait…to wait for hell."
"Be gone!" I yelled. Grasping my pillow, I heaved it at the door.
I stood in the room's midst and attempted to catch my ragged breath. Tears leaped to my eyes again, and I sniffed loudly.
"OH!" I exclaimed, stomping my foot on the floor. I crossed my arms tightly and plopped into the embroidered chair. The overnight fire had died down, leaving a pile of smoldering ashes.
"I want to go home," I cried childishly. "I want to go home. Prentiss…save me."
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