Luminita

“Very well,” Vlad said. Let's return to the library first. I have studies to finish. Afterward, I’ll have Ehrlich prepare a carriage.  We’ll go for this gypsy girl together. I need blood tonight.”

A short time after leaving the library, they waited for their coach. Desponia whispered into Vlad’s ear.

“If you thirst, I know a fool who will be missed by no one, a drunkard who passes out each night in a hayloft not far from the Plough and Stars tavern.” He is a traveler and a thorn to the locals as he begs for spare coin and is intoxicated throughout the day.”

“A sort not likely to be missed.”

“The barn is three miles south of the tavern; we shall visit the drunkard and come back for my gypsy. We'll have Ehrlich hitch the team when we draw near the drunkard’s hayloft. Stealth and the end of a drunkard.”

Desponia’s eyes followed Ehrlich’s movements as he led horses out of the stable.

“Quite a curious-looking fellow...this Ehrlich. His nose dominates his face, bulbous and pitted as it is.”

Ehrlich continued to lead the team, a spirited group of large and robust animals, tossing their heads and stepping high.

“And his forehead is a kind of outcrop. See where it overhangs the misaligned eyes?”

When Ehrlich assembled all four horses, he harnessed them to the carriage.

“His hair is certainly a sheep’s wool. Oh, but how his face twitches!”

Ehrlich did not speak except to instruct the horses in a voice that calmed the animals.

“Altogether, he’s as thick and strong as an ox dressed in a tunic, I’d say.”

Vlad looked curiously at Desponia. “Ehrlich is not a handsome man, but for all his loutish appearance, he is intelligent and sworn to duty. My spells do not affect him, yet he would lay down his life for me.”

Ehrlich could hear the dropping of a pin and was rarely without his thoughts. Desponia was an enchantress of some kind, an ethereal creature with eyes to pluck a man’s sanity and replace it with an obsession for her beauty alone.  He knew better than to hazard her glance and be drawn to her haunted interiors.

He opened the carriage door, holding his lamp to light the way. The interior was richly fitted with facing couches of Corinthian leather, and walls of plush multicolored velvet. The trim was birds eye maple.

Vlad took his seat facing Desponia, noting a wry smile at the corners of her mouth.

“Does the anticipation of your gypsy excite beyond your usual reserve?”

“You’ve not yet seen her,” she answered.

Vlad rapped twice on the carriage ceiling, and Ehrlich signaled for the drawbridges to be lowered. The carriage started forward, rolling past the gatehouse across the drawbridge that spanned a rocky chasm some thirty feet deep around the castle.  It bumped steadily through alpine meadows on the dirt and gravel road, which Vlad paid local peasants to maintain. Then, it disappeared into the depths of the Transylvania Forest. 

Ehrlich’s lamp illuminated the ghostly stands of beech, oak, ash, and elm that hemmed the carriage. The wheels rolled through low-lying vapors covering the road, leading to the blackened forest. A pack of wolves tracked their progress, following behind and gliding past to scout forward positions. Screech owls announced to all within hearing distance that Vlad approached.

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, Vlad questioned Desponia.  “Tell me more about your gypsy. How does she present?”

“As Sappho from the island of Lesbos.”

“From Greek antiquity? I know her only from poetry.”

“I remember Sappho with great fondness, said Desponia. "She was the gentlest of mortal beauties, with hair that fell to her waist. Her heart was a song; in spring, her scent was a freshly turned garden, warm and ripe with fertility. She worshiped Aphrodite, but I wanted her for myself, so I cast a spell on her such that she saw only Aphrodite when I drew near. I seduced her, and when I was filled with my pleasure, she wept with gratitude. On that same day, she wrote a poem that has endured time, An Ode to Aphrodite. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“I have.”

“But Hera was about her mischief again; she revealed the ruse to Sappho, who was heartbroken and threw herself from a cliff into the Aegean Sea. So, will it be with all whom I love?”

“Does this drive your hatred of  Hera? I’ve heard  it said you were Zeus’s concubine.”

“There are two sides to every mirror, Vlad.”

“And what of your gypsy”?

“I’ll keep her as long as she continues to worship me,” Desponia said sullenly.

“But you’ve asked me to make her immortal. What if she loses interest in you afterward?”

“Then I’ll drag her into the sun and watch her turn to ash.”

Vlad gazed out the carriage window. I have great pity for Sappho.

“You suggest your gypsy is a beauty?  There are not so many beautiful women in Medias.  What name has she?”

“Luminita.”

“She has no husband?”

 “I erased him from her memory.”

The carriage rolled on with the two sitting silently. They entered Medias and a narrow street. The carriage wheels rumbled over cobblestone as they continued along an empty merchant’s avenue where signs creaked in an alpine breeze, where streetlamps cast restless flickers on darkened windows, a bootmaker, a sweet shop, and more. The street let out into a square, and Despoina pointed to a structure, saying, 

“Look, Vlad, the Christian church. On Mount Olympus, there’s talk that you fear the crucifix.”

 “I fear no cross. Nor do I fear any other Christian trinkets, rosaries, and votive candles. I would dress a monkey in a priest’s vestments and lead him on a leash for all I care for their sanctity. 

 “Look, Vlad, we approach the Tavern where my gypsy works.”

There was a row out front.  A dozen men, who’d been mauling each other, stopped to stare as the carriage rolled by.  Despoina craned her neck to see inside the Plough and Stars but could not see her gypsy.

“That is the gypsies’ husband,” said Despoina, pointing to one of the noisemakers. “a rabble-rouser.”

Ehrlich drove the team faster as he calculated the moon’s position. When the team brought them within a quarter-mile of the drunkard’s barn, Vlad rapped again on the ceiling of the carriage, and Ehrlich brought his team to rest.

The sky was midnight, with a wind pushing the evergreens.  Ehrlich held the door as Vlad descended the two steps. As Despoina appeared, Ehrlich lowered his eyes but felt a caress, the tip of a finger across the side of his neck. “Thaaank you, Ehrlich,” she teased.

“Must you?” asked Vlad. 

“I’m very excited for this drunkard,” said Despoina. 

 “Follow me. Let me be the one to wake him.”

“As you wish, Despoina.”

They approached an open barn with a hovel next to it. Vlad stood at the entrance while Desponia climbed a wooden ladder to the loft. There was a loud thud and then a tremendous racket.  Suddenly, the drunkard dropped through the hay drop and fell the full height of the ceiling, landing on his back directly below the hayloft opening.  

Down dropped Desponia, landing flush on the drunkard’s chest. She rolled her hips forward, pressing her crotch over his mouth to muffle his cries. Vlad picked pieces of straw from her hair as she laughed.

"Are you trying to speak, drunkard? It would seem so!" Desponia screeched, pressing more firmly.

Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. “By the gods, this imbecile has just bitten me!”

“Yes, but where did this attack occur?” chided Vlad.

“In a delicate place, I assure you!  I am through with the play, Vlad. He is yours for the slaughter.” 

Just as Desponia spoke, an invisible force jerked the drunkard from the floor and held him dangling as if on a meat hook. His back arched grotesquely as he writhed with his spine twisting apart. Desponia tore at his shirt as the drunkard's vertebrae split open and bled cartilage from an immense pressure that folded the fool backward, head to heel, and dragged him to merciless Vlad, whose mouth gaped with exposed fangs.

Despoina watched, wide-eyed, panting, breasts heaving as though in the throes of a climax.

Vlad drank deeply and dropped the drunkard’s husk to the floor.

Despoina reached out as if to pluck something from the air. The luminescence of her eyes intensified with pulses of yellow, then green.

“Did you not see it?” she asked, in a near state of trance. It was there for the briefest moment, then gone.”

“I took his life; your drunkard is what’s gone,” Vlad said casually.

“Yes, but is the escaping spirit the Christian spirit?”

“The Christian spirit is a narrative.  Nothing more.”

“You saw nothing more than death? I grow weary of your existentialism. I saw a soul!”

“Perhaps you are mad.”

“As if it would matter, but now my thoughts are for my gypsy.”

“To the carriage then.”

Ehrlich had covered his ears against the sounds he’d heard coming from the barn, but now he jumped from the driver’s box and held the door for his master and the goddess. He leaped back onto the box and, in half an hour’s time, reached the Plow and Stars.

Despoina pushed open the tavern door and stood in the entry with Vlad. The hour had cleared the crowd, save for the gypsy, the tavern owner, and the gypsy’s husband. He, a powerfully built man, took rough hold of the gypsy’s arm. Her eyes widened with fear as she pulled back, and the ends of her raven hair touched the floor. She caught hold of his wrist, pried, and cried out.

Seeing Vlad, the tavern’s owner quickly exited through a service door.

“I know you not!” Luminita cried, shooting a desperate glance at Despoina, “I know him not!”

“Release her!” Vlad said, stepping forward.

“Or what!” Boasted the husband.

“Or I will turn you into a donkey,” Despoina said, stepping past Vlad and pinching the husband’s face between her thumb and forefinger.

“Have you not noticed an excess of wayward donkeys in this village? Would you become one?” She stared into his eyes and cursed him.

“I am a lost man,” he muttered, stumbling out the tavern door and away, his sanity suffering the perils of coming madness.

Desponia pressed her mouth against Luminita’s lips. 

“I’ve brought you something,” Desponia said, reaching into the folds of her clothing and producing a pearl necklace.

“What are they?” Luminita asked. 

“These are called pearls.”  She reached around 

Luminita’s neck to fix the clasp. 

“They seem a thing of value.”

“As I have said, they are pearls, and these are far from ordinary. No other woman possesses such as these,” Despoina said, glancing slyly at Vlad, “They are from the White South Sea.”

“I should be pleased then, but who was that lout who had my arm a moment ago?”

“You have never known him. He no longer knows himself," Despoina said slyly.  "Do you remember I promised you a castle? Well, now there is an adventure for the three of us.”

“You and I, together with this man?” Luminita looked a Vlad, then buried her pretty face in Desponia’s bosom. 

“He frightens me. What is he? Why can I suddenly not remember my age?”

“You are fifteen years old, Luminita. The rest you will learn over time. Let us be gone from here; our carriage is waiting.”

“I suppose so,” Luminita said, shyly touching the pearls. “Are they very beautiful?”

“They do you justice.”

While traveling back to the castle, Luminita fell asleep with her head in Desponia’s lap. Vlad sat opposite, basking in the gypsy’s warm tides, her pulsing evanescence, while Ehrlich guided the team masterfully. Sensing dawn approach and knowing his master shunned the light of day, he raised a conch shell to his lips and trumpeted a signal as they approached the castle. The drawbridge came down, and the carriage rumbled over the craggy ravine. The sun would soon rise.

Walking quickly, Vlad made his way down the great hall. His heels echoed on the stone as he made for his chamber, down the corridor. Quickly, the bolt!  He rotated a cylinder, and the door sprang open. Then, quick was his descent to the mausoleum, and entering his lair, he let the sleep of the undead wash over him.

Meanwhile, Desponia brought Luminita to the grotto corridor.

“I’ll have the servants prepare food, Luminita, but first, I would have you bathe. Come with me,” she said, taking Luminita by the hand and leading her down a slope. Despoina pushed the door and smiled at Luminita in the wavering reflections when they reached the bottom.  “Come here and lift your arms.”

Luminita raised her arms, and Despoina drew her blouse over her head. She caught Luminita’s skirt and pushed it down to her feet. “Now, step out and stand before me. You are lovely,” said Despoina. “Come to me.” Luminita stepped forward as Desponia reached out, lifting her breasts and kissing her neck.

“You tremble,” said Despoina, sliding a knee between Luminita’s legs, pressing until a squeal and a soft gasp escaped the gypsy’s lips.

Meanwhile, Vlad fell more deeply into his slumber. 

Down he sank, gaining the place where no star could glimmer. He could only escape God's eyes by tumbling over the edge of the universe into the bowels of eternity. Here were the echoes of his once-human heart. He, the outcast of all outcasts, the blood drinker, God’s antagonist, had once been a cherished child and admired for his virtue, generosity, and health.

His perished wife, of all Romanians, had been fairest. His family's wealth was the deepest among all Romanians. Coins were minted in his likeness. Male children had his namesake. He was Vlad the Heroic, Vlad the Generous, Vlad the Devout, and finally, Vlad the Impaler.  He sank more deeply into his dream, imprisoned in a mirrored hall where silver panes reflected the ruins of his past, the plundering of an Egyptian tomb.

Here was his wife’s body, Iona, along with her severed head.  Here were his children, cyanotic in complexion.

And now, Desponia, descending from on high, girds for battle, then rides alongside him at the head of a column.

Every seed has its plan, as well as its maker. Finally, no seed was more diabolically designed than Vlad’s.