Bathed In Blood. Alex Archer

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СКАЧАТЬ passageway one after another. Thurzó stopped counting when he reached forty-three.

      He’d checked the first few corpses—those that were reasonably intact, at least—and noted the same kinds of injuries as they’d discovered upstairs. They’d been bled dry like animals brought to the butcher’s for slaughter.

      His disgust now in full bore, Thurzó stood back and let his men work, his mind wandering to all-but-forgotten days, trying to figure out just where the countess was hiding.

      The upper floors were vacant, and they had covered every inch of the lower floors, as well. Lady Báthory had been inside these walls when the night had begun, and Semtész’s behavior seemed to indicate she was still here somewhere.

      But where?

      He cast his thoughts back, back to the days when he and Ferenc had run wild through these tunnels, and as the images rushed through his mind, one stuck out. A faint memory of Ferenc showing him a hidden door in one of the cells, a door that led to an unfinished tunnel...

      Thurzó slipped away from the others and entered the cell in question. Holding a torch, he walked over to the back wall and pressed on it several times, trying to remember how his childhood friend had done it all those years ago.

      Something about putting pressure on the right slab while standing...just so?

      The wall slid open silently, revealing the passage he remembered from his youth. At that time, the tunnel had led to a dead end, but he could see now that improvements had been made over the years, widening the tunnel and lengthening it, as well. Torches had been lit at regular intervals. The tunnel took a couple of sharp turns and then opened up into a wide chamber.

      In the center of the room, a large rectangular sunken bath was surrounded by half a dozen braziers. Each had a fire blazing inside, no doubt to help ward off the room’s chill.

      In the flames’ lurid light, the bathwater had an unusual crimson tint.

      Thurzó stepped forward, moving closer, and as he did so the smell finally hit him.

      A thick, coppery scent—one he was intimately familiar with from the time he’d spent on the battlefield.

      With slowly dawning horror, Thurzó realized the bathwater wasn’t truly water at all. It was blood, a vast pool of blood hot enough to give off steam.

      He’d never seen anything like it.

      And while he stood there, the surface of the pool suddenly rippled and a figure rose out of its depths, shocking him so much that he stumbled backward.

      A hearty laugh—a laugh he recognized—filled the chamber as the woman rising from the bath caught sight of him.

      “What’s the matter, György? Surely you’ve seen a naked woman before?”

       Elizabeth!

      He stood there staring—he couldn’t help himself. The countess stood thigh deep in the tub, the fluid slowly sliding down her curves and back into the bath, allowing her pale skin to peek out from the crimson flow. Her usually raven-black hair was highlighted with streaks of color, and her blue eyes peered out of a face that seemed to be camouflaged in red paint.

      When she licked her lips, he was reminded that it wasn’t paint at all, but blood.

       Human blood.

      “My God, Elizabeth, what have you done?”

      She laughed again, longer and harder this time, and he realized that asking what she hadn’t done might have proved a more useful starting point.

      Even so, her answer surprised him.

      “What have I done? I’ve found the very thing man has spent centuries searching for, the very thing he thought forever out of reach. I’ve found the secret to immortality!”

      Thurzó couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

      “Immortality? You’re insane! Look at yourself, Elizabeth. You’re covered in blood, for heaven’s sake!”

      “Yes, look at me, György. Look at me!” she exclaimed, spreading her arms to draw his attention to her body. “I’m fifty years old and I look like a girl of twenty-five! I’m getting younger with every treatment.”

      Thurzó was looking; as morbid as the scene was he couldn’t take his gaze off her. He told himself he was looking for evidence to back up her claims, preposterous as they were, but deep down he knew the truth. Countess Elizabeth Báthory was a beauty, even as she appeared now; Thurzó couldn’t deny that. He’d found her attractive when they were younger, when she’d been betrothed to his friend, and the years had only done her justice.

      He looked because he wanted to look. It was as simple as that.

       Rounded wounds, like those caused by a pike or an auger...

      The thought slipped in like an enemy from the shadows, reminding him of just how the countess and her companions had obtained all the blood currently steaming in the sunken bath and Thurzó was suddenly ashamed.

      He focused his gaze just beyond her, so he could see her movements but wouldn’t be so tempted to stare. Thurzó tried to figure out just how many bodies it must take to fill a tub of that size. And she had mentioned multiple treatments...

      “I don’t care what you claim to have discovered,” he said through a jaw stiffened with anger and distaste. He waved with his free hand at the bath before him. “You should be struck down where you stand for this...this abomination!”

      Elizabeth walked forward slowly, swaying slightly as if listening to some sensual rhythm only she could hear. Thurzó tried to keep his gaze focused over her shoulder, but the closer she came, the more difficult that was, until he had no choice but to face her.

      By now she was only a few feet away.

      His gaze found hers, and then, as if by its own volition, dropped to her body once more.

      Catching himself, he looked back into her face and saw her smirking at him.

      “Oh, but you’re not going to do that, are you, György?” she asked softly. “There are other things you’d much rather do than strike me down.”

      She was right; he could no more hurt her than he could grow wings and fly. The sad truth was that he’d been in love with Elizabeth Báthory for years.

      Elizabeth moved closer, until her blood-slicked body was just inches from his own. He could feel the heat rising from it as she said, “So what are you going to do, György?”

      Thurzó stared deep into her eyes, letting her see the storm that raged within him, and then, steeling himself, said, “In the name of His Majesty, King Matthias II, and under the authority granted to me as the palatine of Hungary, I place you under arrest for the torture and murder of multiple young women under your care...”

      Bytča, Hungary

      January 1611

      THE TRIAL WAS a madhouse.

      Thurzó СКАЧАТЬ