An Infernal Love

Mortensen Castle, November 16th 1798, Journal of Dr David Wenham

10a.m

Like on so many other days Sir Mortensen visited with me around seven in the morning, his usual breakfast time I presume, and told me that he would be away for most of the day. Why then did he call me here? What role am I to play in his scheme, whatever that may be?

I could barely refrain myself from asking out loud but I did since I assume that he would not appreciate it if I questioned him. And yet there is something strange about him when dealing with me. I do not quite grasp what it is, it seems to be a certain air of something though of what I cannot, no, dare not, say for such thoughts better remain buried inside.
What shocked me the most was that I am not afraid of him anymore. In my heart I feel that no matter what Sir Mortensen is, he cannot be able to be evil. I would know id he were.

Ah, but I can still see the somewhat boyish smile he sported when talking to me this morn! A most amazing smile on the most amazing lips but I must not think that way. No good Catholic should. If I only knew what happened to the child he brought to the castle.

Why should he carry one so young into his castle at such an unholy hour? However, I dared not ask him since I would have been uncomfortable with spending more time in his company but I know where to obtain the information I need.

Ian has been very frank with me so far and I think that he will tell me if he knows anything, simply for the pleasure of attempting to shock me with it. Perhaps it would be better for my peace of mind but I have to know, I cannot go on with only more and more questions complicating the situation I am in. I have to solve at least some of the riddles, so to Ian it is. I will continue this later.

Same day, 3p.m.

Oh but the madness of it! My hands are still shaking as I am writing this in Sir Mortensen’s library. Would that I had not asked if Ian spoke the truth – and somehow I cannot help but believe he did – then Sir Mortensen must be a true demon of the worst kind! To allow such an atrocity to be committed under his own roof! It’s unbelievable!
And yet it seems to have happened right here in the very castle I am kept prisoner in for reasons still unknown to me. Sweet heavens, God father, if thou hath any mercy, so grant it to me now! If any of the things Ian told me are true, then I am in dire need of it! But I should start at the beginning, lest I forget what happened.

It was no hardship for me to find Ian’s room again and I had half-expected, half-hoped to find him asleep but I was disappointed. So many things had changed since I first visited his room. The windows had been nailed shut and the wood had been covered with the curtains and then nailed shut once more. Not a single natural ray of light penetrated the gloom of the candles in the small chamber. A chair had been added and the small ornamental cross over the fireplace as gone.
“I have been expecting you,” Ian said as I stepped inside, “You hesitated longer than I anticipated.” Nervously I sat down on the chair, once more taken aback by Ian’s strange manner and eyes. “You have come because you feel you have to know what happened to the child.” his strangely comforting voice stated while he stared grinning at the place on the wall
where the cross had hung just a few days ago. “Don’t you think that you might be happier not knowing?” he asked. Slowly, dumbly, I shook my head. I did not know why but I had to know. I was determined to solve this puzzle once and for all.

“Very well.” Even now I shudder as I recall Ian’s wicked grin. I cannot explain but somehow his grin released an evilness that seemed to permeate through the whole room. Helpless I stared at the gaunt man in the bed who seemed to delight in agonizing me by making his chains rattle.
“Next to the chimney over the fireplace, on the left side,” he said after another pause, “The third stone from the chimney, about six or seven foot from the ground, it’s loose.”
“This one?” I asked as I had finally found the stone, my hand hovering over it, afraid to touch the thing.
“yes.” blood shimmered in his eyes as he nodded, “A secret doorway will open if you push against it.”

“And what will I find?” I asked, my courage suddenly deserting me.
“The child of course.” Ian smiled again. It was the kind of smile that made me want to hide somewhere in a deep dark dungeon with very thick walls and an unpickable lock and the only key safely in my pocket after I had locked myself in. What madness had possessed me to go there in the first place? Suddenly I did not know why I had come any more, why I wanted to solve the mysteries surrounding me. I only felt, knew, that if I pressed against the stone nothing would ever be the same again. And somehow Ian knew this.

The more agitated I became the broader was his grin. For a second I almost thought that he seemed to feed upon my fear and in some perverse way also upon myself.
“Go on,” he said, his voice seemed to attack me from everywhere, it seemed to come from all directions at once, to seep into the room from every pore of the stone walls and my fingers mover of their own volition and I think I never heard a more final sound than the clicking noise that followed and echoed queerly through the room. Even Ian was quiet. At least for some seconds.
“Go on, doctor,” a strange gleam lit his eyes, “Go on in and see for yourself. See what your fate may turn out to be.”

Stone rattled across stone as the wall beneath my shaking hand slowly drifted aside with a creaking sound. Mesmerized I stepped inside, knowing that something dreadful awaited me but unable to stop myself from going on.
A small narrow tunnel led me to another chamber and I had barely entered it as I heard Ian laugh uproariously.
“Go on!” he called, “Go on and wake the dead! Wake up, darling, wake up and see what Daddy sent to you!”

I was frozen on the spot, totally rendered incapable of saying or doing anything, my knees felt too weak to support me any longer and I leaned heavily against the cold wall with a shocked gasp as my eyes got used to the gloom in the room.
The windows in this room had been nailed shut as well and the only light came from a candle on a small table. I stared in amazement as an unspeakable horror unfolded itself in front of my eyes.

The space where a bed should have been was occupied by a coffin, an open coffin without a lid.

“I thought it best to give her a fitting place to rest,” Ian cackled behind me, “Go on doc! You wanted to know! Surrender…”
Slowly a white-clad figure rose from the coffin, standing in front of it, her blood-shot gaze firmly fixed on me. It was the child. The girl. She had seemed sick when I had glimpsed her in Sir Mortensen’s arms but now she seemed healthy and seriously ill at the same time.
He cheeks bore a rosy flush but her face was gaunt and just as ghastly pale as Ian’s was. He blond locks shimmered golden in spite of the almost total absence of light. She was more than just beautiful. Her smile was innocent but her eyes seemed to silently tell of a deep, dark and ancient wisdom. Of knowledge that should not have been passed on.

“Father?” she asked, looking past me into the tunnel. Towards Ian, I suddenly noticed.
“Not today, my child, my first-born,” Ian said, his voice husky as he suddenly appeared behind me and put his hands upon my shoulders. I do not know how he managed to free himself from his chains and I do not think I want to.
However, he hold me firmly in place and all I could do was stare at the child.
“Touch him,” Ian commanded, and I still swear that I could hear, could feel the laughter in his voice, “Show him. He will be yours, my child. Not tonight but soon.”

The girl nodded and slowly cupped my face in her hands. She floated a few feet above the ground. Cold seeped into me from her fingertips and I could feel that there was no life in her.
“What is this?” I managed to croak, trying to free myself but Ian held me down.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” he cackled, “Yes, she is dead but she is also awake and alive. Show him, dear.”

The girl smiled, revealing canine teeth that looked more like fangs than anything else.
“Those teeth will break through your skin, drive into your jugular vein and suck you dry, suck all your blood out of your body and make you one of us. And you will love it.”
“No.” I struggled as if in trance, unable to stop staring at the beautiful dead – and deadly – child in front of me.
“And even Sir Mortensen,” Ian whispered confidentially into my ear, “Your beloved devil won’t be able to help you.”
“Devil?”
“Aye.” once more I could feel his grin, “For that is what he is. The Fallen One himself.”

“no!” I screamed and finally managed to tear myself out of the haze that engulfed me, “You’re lying!” I know that it was foolish but I turned and ran, forcing myself not to look back because I knew that I had no chance if he choose to follow me. Ian’s and the girl’s laughter followed me almost all the way to the library where I am sitting now.

They did not bother to follow me and why should they have? For I am still a prisoner in this castle and the know it. But alas, I have to go now. There are so many things that I have to think about, so many things I do not want to believe.
I need to do something to clear my mind. How can all this be?

Same day, 7p.m.

I still wish, still long to be able to convince myselff that all those thingsm everything that happened is nothing more than a dream but deep down I already knew different. And now even more so.

I had hidden the parcel, which Ian had given me two days ago, under on of the bookshelves, totally forgetting that he had not only given me his diary but also another book. I have spent the last few hours studying this book and what I found made my blood turn cold.
It would have been worse if I had not expected something of the kind. Ian never lied to me before and he did not lie to me today either. And for exactly that reason I am sure they will indeed get me. Ian promised the child.

The second book Ian had given me was some sort of almanach, a work upon demonology and an obviously ancient tome. I flipped through the pages, stopping at once as I noticed the picture of a man whose pallor and bloodshot eyes reminded me instantly of Ian.
The entry beneath the picture told me that if a sorcerer was careless when handling the Moraki he may become a hybrid, caught between the two planes of existence. Above the picture was another entry in what I knew to be Ian’s handwriting.

“This is what I will/have become,” it said, “Mortensen can only know and remember what he has known before. Without this book he will never know.” My mind reeled, I knew I should throw the book into the fire but I could not.
“I am,” Ian’s writing continued, “What has by ancient peopled been called a Vampire, one who feeds off souls.” I paused, sickness coiling in my stomach as I read the last sentence.
“If you want to know more about your beloved Sir Mortensen, doctor, - and I know that you won’t be able to avoid loving him – then go on to page 166.”
Breathing heavily and gulping down my fear I turned the pages till my gaze finally settled on a portrait of Sir Mortensen. The portrait was as old as the book but nevertheless unmistakeable. It was him. No doubt about that.
Shaking I read the words beneath the picture.

“The devil. This is the shape the lord of the hells usually takes when he wishes to appear human.”

I still find it hard to believe but it appears that I am caught in the devil’s castle with one, nay two, vampires. I have to get out of here if I wish to survive and that is what I will try to do.
I found that the doors to the entrance hall are the only ones still locked. I think I should manage to get safely to the roof, though I do not know how to proceed from there. I will cross that bridge when I get there.
For now all that matters is to save my life, for my soul has been lost since I first admitted to myself that I had fallen in love with someone whom I now know to be the devil.

May all the powers of heaven have mercy on me if this attempt at flight fails!

tbc...

A/N: By the way, I've got a livejournal now, though so far I'm only posting a world of night there, but the others will soon follow. You can find it here http://www.livejournal.com/users/tarlwen/ Feedback is always appreciated!