The Impaled Bride Read online

  Vlad starts to lunge for the devil, but I lash out and grip his arm. Casting a questioning look at me, Vlad hesitates. I have always been his weakness. I can often stave his anger against others when I desire to do so.

  “I rebuffed him. Let him depart with his forked tail tucked between his legs,” I say.

  Lucifer visibly rankles at my insult, but contains his anger. “Such an enchanting visit. We must do this more often.”

  “You are not welcome here,” Vlad snaps with irritation.

  “Yet, I can come here. Or wherever you try to hide her. You may be cunning, determined, and woefully over-confident, but you are also my former student. Do not think for a moment I taught you all my tricks. If you do, it will be your undoing.” Lucifer bows in my direction and vanishes.

  “How dare he come here and—”

  “He enjoys taunting you.” I release Vlad’s arm and rest my hand against my bosom. I am hungry, tired, and peeved at the night’s events. That I should have to deal with Vlad in the aftermath of my interaction with Lucifer is too exhausting to even consider. I wish the sun would rise so I could sleep.

  “You refused his offer,” Vlad says in disbelief. “He would free you if you went to the Scholomance and you refused.”

  “How can you be so surprised after the great lengths you went to, even as so far as to betray me, so that you could escape being the student chosen as payment for the other nine? And he would have chosen you as he would choose me.”

  Perhaps sensing I am too tired to fight him, Vlad leans over to kiss my forehead. “It wounded me to betray you.”

  “Yet you did. For power.”

  “Yes.”

  “And do not regret your choice.”

  “Never.”

  I sigh and close my eyes. “You always desired power above all else.”

  “Did he not offer you what you desire most?”

  I remain silent, contemplating this question. The answer, I realize, is no. Though I want to be free from the mausoleum, in truth, what I desire most is something altogether different.

  “Did he not offer you freedom from here? From me?” Vlad’s tone is mocking, but also holds a hint of doubt.

  I have heard this sound before in the voices of others who I loved and loved me. The realization that perhaps what they believed about me was not quite the truth. That perhaps my motivations and desires were not what they believed.

  When the spell returns, I know my next destination. It is inevitable really. I will have to face the decisions I made that eventually stole Albrecht, my first great love, from my arms.

  “Erzsébet, what secrets are you hiding?”

  “Many,” I answer Vlad. “So very many.”

  Chapter 20

  The sun rose soon after the devil departed. To my surprise, Vlad remained at my side until dawn. The dark storms within his eyes spoke of his inner turmoil. I was thankful he spent his time fuming instead of attempting to engage me in conversation. When sleep tugged on my eyelids, I felt his kiss on my brow before the darkness of slumber claimed me.

  I dreamed of Ágota dancing in the moonlight and the vision was a comfort.

  I awake to discover the mausoleum awash with the fiery glow of torchlight. The cobwebs, dirt, and decaying corpses are cleared away. Even more delightful, two travelers are chained to my stake for me to feast upon. Their blood restores my vitality and heals all my pains except for the wound around the stake. The desiccated corpses slip free of their shackles and fall to the floor. In the past, I was not such a glutton, but my body’s constant attempt to heal itself despite the impediment of the silver-coated stake burns away all the benefits of my feeding.

  Vlad appears soon after sunset when he is certain I will be awake. He immediately disposes of the corpses, another act of kindness among many others since last night. It is unsettling even though the root of his behavior is obvious. He is still perturbed at the discovery of Lucifer visiting my prison and worried about the possible implications.

  Once again, he underestimates me, but it is advantageous. Vlad’s worries have imbued me with a degree of leverage against him. It is amusing he fears I will appeal to Lucifer to liberate me from captivity. I am no fool and will never make a deal with the devil. Lucifer would consume me not only to feast on my power, but to also deliver a brutal blow to Vlad’s heart and pride. I have long been a victim their plots against each other. I must carefully consider all possibilities if I am to use my newfound leverage against them.

  Watching my husband stalk about the bier, his brow furrowed and his wide shoulders hunched, I sense his brewing anger. I am rather impressed with the length of time it took for his loving, calm façade to begin to crack.

  “Why now?” Pivoting about, he regards me with an accusatory glare. “Why has he come to you at this time?”

  With my most dismissive tone, I reply, “I thought it obvious. He is recruiting students for the Scholomance.”

  “He never approached you before. Not when you were a witch and not after you became a vampire. He attempted to seduce your sister and mother, but not you. So why is he here now?”

  The mention of my lost family members strikes deep into my dark, weary soul. I am glad I have drunk fully from the throats of the two travelers. It is easier to retain my semblance of calm when I am fully restored. I cannot falter and give any indication to my husband that Lucifer desires anything more than for me to be his pawn. Vlad cannot know of the witch magic Lucifer sensed. I must protect Ágota’s legacy against the two creatures that conspired in her destruction.

  “Perhaps he is struggling to fill his quota.”

  “Doubtful,” Vlad says.

  “Why else would he come here? Unless you have found a new way to offend him? Perhaps offering to release me if I agreed to be his student is how he plans to punish you. It was a surprise to discover your magic does not hinder him and that he can manipulate it at will.”

  Vlad does not respond. Did he know before that Lucifer could undo his magic? Or is he surprised by this turn of events? It is hard for me to decipher his thoughts when he masks them with a stern expression.

  “Are you afraid of him, Vlad?”

  “Of him. No.”

  “You are afraid of me because I am a weapon to be used against you.”

  Vlad’s long, rough fingertips glide over my flushed cheek. “You either empower or weaken me. You have always had sway over me.”

  A smile touches my lips for I cannot help but rile him. “Release me and free yourself from my influence. Liberate us both.”

  Gripping my face, his nails dig into my soft skin. “Why must you always provoke me?”

  “Why must you subjugate me?”

  “To prevent you from foolishness such as cavorting with the devil!”

  “I was far from cavorting! I am pinned to this bier, after all.”

  “I saw the illusion he had wrapped about you. You appeared quite cozy together.”

  “Yet he offered no comfort from my pain. How alike you two are.”

  Vlad lashes out to grip the stake. “This pains me! That I should have to keep my wife captive to prevent her from fleeing to join my enemies is the ultimate insult!”

  I am triumphant. Let his anger dwell on me so he will grow weary of our argument and depart.

  “Kill me, Vlad, and be done with it. How many have you killed to uphold your strict edicts of what is right? Why am I deprived of the death you gave so many others?”

  “I impaled them as well. You are no different,” Vlad grunts.

  “But they died eventually. When will I die?”

  The question, though asked dispassionately, immediately escalates the tension between us. Vlad may want to punish me, but my death is not the desired outcome.

  “You provoke me deliberately, but you will not win,” he growls with annoyance. “I will not kill you, beloved wife.”

  “And you compound your cruelty by ensuring I cannot kill myself.”

  The first night after my impalemen
t, I attempted to rip my body free of the stake. I despaired when I discovered that, though I can move my arms and legs, my torso is cemented by a spell to the bier. Otherwise, I would have already torn my body free—or, in my darker moments, killed myself by pulling my body toward the stake until the silver coating destroyed my heart.

  “My dearest Erzsébet, I do not wish to see you dead. You know this,” he says in a chastising manner. “If you believe I enjoy seeing you lying in this filthy mausoleum impaled on a stake, starving, and alone, you wound me. This gives me no pleasure.”

  “Yet, here I am.”

  “By your own doing, Erzsébet.”

  My laughter is bitter. “The lies you tell yourself.”

  An angry growl erupts from his throat. Stalking about my resting place, he says, “Your impudence has compromised me! Made me vulnerable to his attacks! Lucifer knows that you are my weakness and he will use you as a pawn. Surely you must see that your defiance only weakens us.”

  “Weakens you. Not me,” I retort.

  “Yet here you lie,” he snaps.

  “This is the result of your choices, not mine,” I remind him.

  “And you never made a choice you did not regret?” Hesitating beside me, he leans over me, his auburn hair falling to form a veil that blocks out the torchlight. Within the depths of his green eyes are coals of fire. It was this fire I was drawn to from the moment I first gazed upon him. At times I yearn to lose myself again in the scorching heat of his passions even though it would be the end of me.

  “I have made many mistakes,” I say each word so it forms a complete accusation against him, not me.

  “You will recant those words.” Straightening, he smirks. “We are but a few years into this game we play.”

  “And now a new player has made himself known. What will you do to thwart the devil?”

  Fear shadows his features and I am satisfied. I will never make a deal with Lucifer, but I will let Vlad live in dread that I will.

  “I shall move the mausoleum,” he mutters.

  I laugh at his sullen expression. “He will only find it again. He is determined to sway me with his offers of freedom.”

  “You would not dare!”

  Despite his shout, I detect the distress underlying his anger.

  “Death would be a release, one I would welcome,” I say blithely.

  “Do not tempt me, Erzsébet.” Vlad clenches his fist and hisses with frustration.

  At one point, I would have welcomed death, but no more. Lucifer has confirmed what I had dared not believed to be true. A remnant of Ágota’s magic remains in the world, and with it dwells the hope of true liberation.

  Resting my hands above the garish wound in my chest, I watch him pacing about muttering. The promise of violence is in the arch of his back, his furious gaze, and clenched fists. I do not fear his ferocity and never did. Perhaps that is why I am impaled on this bier.

  Again bending over me, he seethes with barely contained fury. “I will not allow you to make a foolish choice that will destroy you!”

  “Then release me. It is that simple, Vlad.”

  “You would not dare be so short-sighted as to make a deal with the devil.”

  “Yet, you did.”

  “I outwitted him!”

  “Did you? It seems he still has you in his snare.”

  Again he grips my face, his fingertips digging into my cheeks. He stares at me with desperate longing. I am shocked to witness the struggle within his eyes. Is he so fearful that I will deal with Lucifer that he is desperate to release me?

  With a terrifying howl, he sharply pivots away from me. His powerful form dissolves into a roiling green mist that seeps through the cracks around the door and vanishes.

  Exhaling with relief, I press my palms to my face, feeling the tender spots where his fingers pressed. The bruises heal rapidly since I have drunk fully.

  Lowering my hands to rest beneath my breasts, I wait in anticipation. If my suspicions are correct, I will soon see the face of my first great love.

  A smile lifts the corners of my lips when I feel the tentative approach of the spell. As I suspected, it was waiting for Vlad to depart. This is yet another sign that this spell was cast by my sister. Ágota had regarded Vlad as the greatest threat to my life when she had been taken from me. She would have been wise enough to weave the spell so it would avoid Vlad’s detection.

  Closing my eyes, I await the moment when I will see my loved ones once more. How swiftly I have become enamored with these forays into the past.

  “It is a mistake to love anyone with such swirly handwriting,” Ágota says. “Albrecht is so pretentious.”

  I open my eyes to see my sister leaning over my bed. In her hand is a letter with a familiar seal.

  Sitting up, I glare at her. “Can you just once hand over a letter from Albrecht without forcing me to wrest it from you?”

  Tapping her lips with the edge of the letter, she appears to consider my question, then says, “No.”

  “Ugh!”

  I scramble out of the bed to chase her across my bedroom. Balázs’s black cat, Valentini, swats at me in irritation for waking him. Ever since our journey into the Carpathian Mountains, he is often near my side. Valentini is an arrogant cat that often perches in spots where he is in my line of sight so he can purposely ignore me. This was his choice, not Balázs, I discovered. The Grandwitch was surprised to discover one of his familiars had taken a liking to me.

  Ágota breaks the seal while scurrying up the wall to perch on the rafters over my head. I leap at her ankles, but miss when she deflects me with the wave of one hand.

  “Dearest Erzsébet, the time has come for us to be joined in marriage. My father has sent instructions to your father...” Ágota falters. “What?”

  Picking myself up off the floor, I gape at her. “You are lying.”

  “No, I am not. I thought father said he had delayed your marriage until you were twenty.” Ágota drops from the rafters with a thump and hands me the letter with a disapproving scowl.

  Concerned that our newly-reformed coven is weakened, Balázs decided that I should stay on the estate until he was certain that Fülöp is content to rule over our previous home and not strike against us.

  “That is what he also told me.” I am torn between my desire to be with Albrecht and my idyllic life with Ágota, Balázs, and the coven. The last six months have been lovely on the estate.

  Twisting her mouth into a scowl, Ágota paces around me in a circle. “I was so arrogant as to believe I could negotiate with the fey. There must be some hidden clause within the marriage agreement that father cannot defy.”

  Wirich, Albrecht’s father, was certainly devious in his dealings. I am not bothered by it since I am more than willing to marry Albrecht, but it has vexed Ágota and Balázs. The White Woman of the Wood is one of the most powerful fey in the world, so they do not dare try to renegotiate the terms of the marriage agreement. The White Woman of the Wood is the protector of the mortal branch of her family and has a keen eye for vengeance if slighted in any way.

  “Ágota, I am glad to marry Albrecht, but I will miss this place ever so much.”

  I pluck Valentini from the bed covers and he meows in protest while I cover his face with kisses. Wandering over to the window, I gaze past the courtyard to the green hills in the distance while stroking the cat’s chin. The cities of Buda and Pesth rest along the shores of the Danube and one of my favorite adventures is to visit the markets with Ágota. On lazy days, we take long walks around the estate and eat ripe grapes off the vine.

  “Erjy, it frustrates me to no end that I was so foolish. If not for my arrogance, you could spend more time with us before departing for your new life. You are too young to marry. Especially for a witch!”

  “Some mortals marry at seventeen,” I remind her. “Are we not pretending to be mortal?”

  I do not remind her that I am only half a witch. We are still hiding my parentage from Balázs. It is best
he does not know of my human ties to the world.

  “Nobility, perhaps,” Ágota grouses.

  “Albrecht is a noble. I will soon be a countess.” I set Valentini on the windowsill and he licks a paw and starts to wash his face where I kissed him.

  With a petulant look, Ágota says, “I know you are happy with the prospect, but I find it difficult to find any joy in the thought of you not being with me.”

  “You can visit. Often.”

  “My duty is here.” Ágota sighs and slumps against the bedpost. “If not for my disastrous decision, your place would be here, too. As our battlewitch. The coven is none-too-pleased that I negotiated our only battlewitch into marriage with a mortal.”

  “He is part fey.”

  “As if that matters. He is far away in the Kingdom of Germany and we are here in the heart of the Hungarian kingdom.”

  “At least King Charles is no longer a threat and I very much doubt Fülöp will travel all this way to start a witch war.”

  “Do not be so certain. He really does hate me. And you.”

  “He is an insignificant worm,” I say with a cheery smile.

  “And he married the love of my young life!”

  “Yet that does not stop you from bedding all the pretty girls.”

  “I am consoling myself,” Ágota answers, but a smirk slides over her lips.

  “Well, console yourself with the thought that maybe he hates you because his beloved wife calls out your name in the throes of passion!” I tickle her sides and she laughs with delight.

  “Actually,” she says with a conspiratorial gleam, “after she married him she still found ways to fall into my bed.”

  “Ágota!”

  “I have no scruples. None whatsoever!”

  “No wonder he hates us so much! It is all your fault!”

  Of course, we both know he truly hates us because we are more powerful than he will ever be. The death of Soffia definitely did not endear us to him either.

  There is a rap on the door, and I rush to answer it. I expect Balázs, but instead, Henrietta greets me with a worried expression on her freckled face.