BLOOD ETIQUETTE By: Jamie Blair
Sunday, January 25th, 2009A shiver runs down my spine as the carriage lumbers to a halt before me. It’s black, as are the horses pulling it. I heard they would be. I heard all of the rumors and ran them over again and again in my mind. I will myself to relax.
“Nikolett!” There’s no mistaking the shrill, musical pitch of Panni’s voice from inside the carriage. Her blonde head pops into view through the window.
“Panni!” I call as a dwarf-sized man loads my trunk onto the back of the carriage.
He comes around, opens the door and assists my entrance into the carriage. Small arms instantly envelope me. Dear, sweet Panni, always smiling and smelling of lavender. She’s a source of comfort for my nerves. My icy insides begin to melt.
“Aren’t you excited?” she asks, blue eyes blazing.
“I’m ready for an adventure,” I manage to reply.
“Nikolett, you’re always reserved and proper. You’ll do well learning social etiquette. Countess Bathory has a challenge ahead of her with me I’m afraid.” She laughs her bird twitter of a laugh.
“Are we the only two going to the castle by carriage?” I ask, wondering why we’re the only two aboard.
“No, the dwarf says there will be six of us in all.”
I can’t help the feeling of foreboding crawling up my neck like spiders. Just rumors, I keep telling myself.
*
The six of us stand in a straight line. Our trunks have been taken somewhere inside the castle. We’re receiving uniforms. They are white sheaths. We’re told to let our hair loose and turn in all hair ties and pins. My palms sweat and itch where the nerve endings prickle and make bumps.
We strip out of our clothes, don the white frocks and line up once more. I’m in front with Panni behind me. A tall, thick woman leads us through the damp, frigid castle. “The Countess will greet you now,” she tells us. Piroska trips and falls on the stairs. Krisztina turns to help her. “Straight ahead!” the woman bellows. “Nobody will help you and you do not help one another.” Panni’s eyes widen. My lips go numb. Rebeka whimpers and becomes the first to die.
The tall woman turns on her and brings her fist down across Rebeka’s shoulder and neck. Rebeka falls to the stone stairs. The woman kicks her over and over in the head. Blood runs red and sticky, pooling before overflowing to the next step, then the next. When Rebeka no longer struggles and lays motionless the woman climbs back to the front of our line and leads us forward once more. We don’t speak or look back. I hear Szabina’s feet scuffle over Rebeka’s body.
The dwarf stands at the top of the stairs before a doorway. “Ficzko,” the tall woman says to him, “one of them lies on the stairs. Collect the blood for the Countess.”
The tall woman opens the door and motions for us to enter. My stomach churns.
A woman sits in the middle of the room in an intricate gold chair. Her long black hair hangs in curls on her shoulders and falls onto her white bosom. Her skin is ghostly. Her lips blood red. The Countess stands and takes two steps forward. The netting under her rich gold and red brocade dress scratches the floor as she walks. I’m frozen in place.
A large hand shoves me forward. “Bow to the Countess,” the tall woman orders.
“Thank you Dorka,” the Countess says. Her voice is deep and throaty. Dorka bows and leaves the room. Countess Bathory runs her eyes over us. “And then there were five,” she says. “Approach me one at a time.”
She steels her eyes on mine. I’m walking forward but can’t feel my feet moving. It’s a terrible dream. I say a silent prayer to wake up. I’m standing in front of her. She twirls her finger, indicating for me to turn before her. I rotate. The room becomes a blur.
She takes my arm and smells the inside of my wrist. Horrified, I fight to remain stiff as her tongue traces my vein and her eyes meet mine. She lets go of my arm and it falls limp at my side. “My new favorite,” she says.
I swallow the bile that slips up my throat. She runs a finger down my cheek, then bends my head to the side and examines my neck. I close my eyes and feel her lips trace my collarbone. “Dorka, this one to my chambers tonight,” she says.
*
In the dungeon of the Blood Countess, the chill and certainty of darkness seeps through the walls. Dorka leads me to the chamber of the Countess. She sits in a deep bath of blood. It ebbs with every movement and splashes over the side of the white porcelain onto the stone floor as she turns and smiles upon my arrival. The stench is horrific. I gag and brace myself against the wall.
She summons me forward with her finger, her tongue running over her lips. As I approach, the sitting room to my right comes into view. Several corpses of dead girls lie, discarded, their skin gashed and blood drained. I falter. The room spins and goes black.
Excruciating pain brings me back. I hear my voice screaming out. Gaining lucency, realization sets in. The Countess has my nude body pressed tightly against her own. Her teeth have torn a gaping hole in my breast. She’s smearing my blood onto her face, licking her fingers, humming. She smiles and kisses me.
I see the welcome blackness approaching, like the horses that draw the carriage of the damned, and run forward into its embrace.
___
©2009 Jamie Blair
www.jamieblair.blogspot.com
