Brides Of The Impaler (34 page)

“Do you remember your name?” her accented voice echoes.

You pause. “Cristina Nichols…”

The brick walls drip, the torchlight flickers. You stand half in and half out of this final vision as the luminous black, green, and red lines churn over the dungeon’s rough-hewn bricks.

Kanesae is
showing
you, and now you understand that this is what she’s been doing all along…

She’s never looked more real, more
flesh
, than at this moment. She’s dressed fully in her black habit now, her face aglow in the white wimple, her fangs shiny as diamonds.

“Do you remember back at the house?”

You slowly shake your head.

“The ruse worked,” Kanesae informs. “Thanks to selfishness and greed—the hallmarks of humanity.”

You see now, the upper room. Paul drinking the flagon’s precious blood himself.

“It was not the blood of the Prince in the flagon.
That
was the secret.”

Your eyes widen, and you
see
…the past.

You see Kanesae in this chamber so long ago. On the stone slab she is cutting the head off of a dog, and draining
its
blood into the flagon.

“Then…where did you hide the Prince’s blood?” you ask.

Kanesae grins. “In
me
, and that’s where it’s been, for thirteen lifetimes. Until now.”

You look down at your belly, which feels full and hot inside. The two men at the hospital were but tidbits, while your
first
meal proved the most paramount.

More of the vision pours into your mind. You see Kanesae so long ago gashing the throat of the man on the slab, letting his blood flow into the chalice, then gulping it down. Then she shows you what you did at the house: Kanesae cutting her own wrist and filling the chalice with what gushed out.

And handing the chalice to you.

“The diversion succeeded,” she says, “just as the Prince whispered it would so many centuries ago…”

You stare at her.

“The past is done.”

The weaving colors fade—

“All that awaits is the future, its darkness like ripe fruit set out for us…For
you
.”

—and then the vision dissolves and you’re back on the streets of this monolithic city in the middle of a hot, star-filled night.

You can hear every heart beat.

Kanesae leads you through alleys and byways, through black streets and across rooftops, and then…up a stairwell.

She pauses at the landing and smiles. Is there a tear in the nun’s eye? “
Me enamourer ad infinitum
…”

You look back at her. You suddenly feel strong, audacious, and without fear.

“Do you remember your name, my love?”

“Drwglya,” you breathe.

“Let us begin…”

You turn to face the door in the hallway that reads FREDRICK, and you raise your hand to knock.

Above all, I need to thank Jess Franco, Amano de Ossorio, Paul Naschy, and Jean Rollin, whose macabre and brilliant films have enthralled me for years and whose manipulation of imagery and atmosphere have proven a polarizing influence. Also, very special thanks to Dallas Mayr for NYC data and fifteen years of friendship. And, in no particular order: Tim McGinnis, Dave Barnett, Don D’Auria, Bob Strauss, Monica Kuebler, Tony and Kim, Mary Tutty of Mary’s Cabin, Julie Ahrens (for the very cool shirt!), Thomas Deja, John Mahoney and his parents, Nanci Kalanta, Mark Justice, Michael Lohr, Nick Cato, Chris from Insidious, Tom Weisser, Tom Moran, Charlie Meitz and Nina Zwaig (for Romanian stuff), Tim Shannon (for crab-infested water), and Anda for med stuff, Rich Chizmar, Tess, Pam, Ashley and Trey, Crystal and Alicia and Gus, Stephanie Shiver for
Cadaverettes
, Megan Dipo (for the wonderful Infernal Angel illo), Robert from Sweetbay (whom I hope likes this book), Dave and Liz Bolter, Kathy, Kirt, Tony, and Audrey, Sascha Mamczak, Ian Levy, and Ioana Mitea.

Lastly I must acknowledge the excellent and indefatigable historians Radu R. Florescu and Raymond T. McNally for their superlative book,
Dracula: Prince of Many Faces
. This book provided much historical data crucial to my novel. Any historical inaccuracies are solely my fault.

E.L.

HIGH PRAISE FOR EDWARD LEE!

“The living legend of literary mayhem.
Read him if you dare!”
—Richard Laymon, Author of
The Woods Are Dark

“Edward Lee’s writing is fast and mean as a chain saw
revved to full-tilt boogie.”
—Jack Ketchum, Author of
Old Flames

“He demonstrates a perverse genius for showing us a Hell
the likes of which few readers have ever seen.”
—
Horror Reader

“Edward Lee continues to push the boundaries of sex,
violence and depravity in modern genre lit.”
—
Rue Morgue

“One of the genre’s true originals.”
—The Horror Fiction Review

“The hardest of the hardcore horror writers.”
—
Cemetery Dance

“Lee excels with his creativity and almost trademark
depictions of violence and gruesomeness.”
—
Horror World

“A master of hardcore horror. His ability to make readers
cringe is legendary.”
—Hellnotes

Other
Leisure
books by Edward Lee:

TRIAGE
(Anthology)
HOUSE INFERNAL
SLITHER
THE BACKWOODS
FLESH GOTHIC
MESSENGER
INFERNAL ANGEL
CITY INFERNAL