Blood And Breakfast Chapter One

In an isolated mountain region, somewhere in Eastern Europe, cold wilderness breeds both superstition and fear. It is in this secluded part of the world where few men dare to venture, does death and decay sour the very frozen soil that lie underfoot. Here lying in ruin across the mountainside is what remains of Castle Dimitrescu, a tombstone marking the passing of its lineage, and towering over the now derelict shambles of what was a quiet peasant village. A conflict had erupted between a man made from death, and a witch that would seek to rob him of his child in a gamble to revive her own. A battle that bathed the earth in blood and mold blacker than the night had subsided leaving only silence in its wake. But that is a story for another time. Our tale turns to a new stranger to these lands, a man whose actions would restore the family Dimitrescu, and birth a new evil that would prey upon those who would be foolish enough to wander here as he did.
	Through the howling winds and the sting of frigid Mother Nature, a foreign vagrant of barren attire slowly limped through snow and darkened forest. Shambling upon uneven hillside, chattering his bones like a textile quake, the stranger peered through sunken eyes towards a destination he knew not. His weary soul begged for the comforts of civilization, a blazing fire, a warm meal, but his thoughts circled to that of despair and death. He knew not how long he had been traveling, nor how long he could continue. Poor footing had made him slip onto his backside, no pain came to him, only the cold. In a morbid moment of weakness, the man led the darkness take him. His eyelids fell, and his lullaby of defeat was a chorus of circling crows from overhead. As the stranger’s mind began to drift into the abyss, he swore he could hear another rhythmic sound approaching, one of creaking wood and the clanging of cast iron.
The man stirred and regained consciousness, draped in a blanket, the room was thick with hot air and the sweet smell of stew. Upon further observation, the man quickly realized that his room was in fact the inside of a wagon. Surrounding him were baubles, trinkets, hanging food, and what appeared to be weapons of alarming varieties. The starved occupant quickly grabbed a nearby tomato, wolfing it down whole with red juices dripping from his chin. His stirring did not go unnoticed as whomever had retrieved his weakened body had called from outside the wagon.
“Good morning, my friend!” the voice bellowed. It sounded hoarse, heavy, and accompanied by light coughing. “Don’t be shy, I didn’t nurse my newest customer back to health just to do him further harm.”
Sheepishly, the vagabond crept from the wooden wagon door, sunlight pierced his eye causing momentary blindness. He did not see the man at first, and upon following the scent of boiling delights and bitter tobacco, the man circled the wagon to gaze at his would-be savior. Before him was, by no understatement, a large gentleman. His girth was hardly contained by his dignified apparel, gleaming buttons straining, bouncing with a hearty and friendly chuckle emanating from his chest.
“Allow me to make the first introduction, they call me The Duke. It is my pleasure to be of assistance, Mister….?”
The man said nothing. Trust was something that was both earned, and not common in the wander’s experience. This Duke appeared benevolent, but looks were always deceiving. The thought of ulterior motives racked his brain, or at least it normally would, had he not been mesmerized by the intoxicating smell of nourishment. The Duke took no offense to the silence, and instead offered a bowl of stew as a gesture of kindness.
“You’re not from around here, are you sir?” replied The Duke, watching as his cuisine was appreciated in a rather barbaric manner. “It would be my upmost pleasure to know your story, stranger.”
Wiping his chin, the wanderer finally eased his caution. “My…..my name is Anon. No, I’m not from here.” Anon paused to drink what remained from his wooden bowl. “But that much is obvious, isn’t it?”
“Ha! Too true. Though if you were looking for civilization and refuge, your sense of direction is sorely lacking.”
“I just….wanted to get away.”
“Ah, a man on the run? Desperate enough to make his way into the unforgiving maul of these lands? You must have quite the story.”
Anon retreated into himself, sitting on a wooden tree stump, taking what little comfort the blanket offered.
“No family? No home?” persisted The Duke.
Anon saw no point in the exchange, but felt obligated to reply given his benefactor’s aid. “No, not anymore.”
The Duke stirred in his seat, grunting and twisting trying to reach an item of some sort. “If I may be so bold, Mr. Anon?” he inquired, holding something small in his fatty appendages.  Anon nodded, curiosity slowly enticing him. “From my experiences a humble merchant and collector of oddities, I’ve gained a talent on reading people. It’s a gift that has helped by provide that which they desire most, for a modest fee of course.”
“I doubt you have anything I would want” said Anon “which don’t misunderstand, I am grateful for your hospitality but-“
“But you were seeking your own end, Mr Anon?” the glutton interjected.
Anon felt a mix of shame and despair, for the merchant was correct. He nodded while avoiding direct eye-contact. “Like I said, I don’t have a family anymore.” Looking downward, The Duke had revealed what he had previously retrieved by throwing the object at Anon’s feet. Before him was an ornate key, leaving Anon puzzled.
The Duke smiled and gestured to yonder hillside to the ruined estate towering over them. “When I look at you, I see a man that wants to give up, but his body won’t let him. However you lost what’s dear to you, know that you have my deepest condolences. But if you truly seeking to die, you would have found it by now by your own hand.”
Anon kept feeling the cold metal key in his hand, probing every artistic detail it possessed “So I’m a coward?”
“Not anything of the sort, Mr. Anon. It means that a part of you is still looking for what you’ve lost” replied The Duke. “That key will open the residence you see before you. Its previous occupants are currently……indisposed.”
Anon was perplexed by the riddles and intent of The Duke. “Indisposed?”
The Duke leaned in, as if to whisper to Anon to mask their conversation from those that were not visible. “What if I could give you not only a home, but perhaps a new family?” The remark was met with skepticism, and Anon’s reply was a cue to leave. The traveler politely placed the metal key back in his round savior’s hand. However before Anon could turn to leave, his hand was snatched by the enlarged digits of The Duke. “This is no trick, no con, Mr. Anon” he said firmly, like a concerned parent with his insistence yet with noticeable care lingering on each word spoken. “I can give you a chance to start anew. Though I must warn you, this is a gamble of upmost severity”.
Anon didn’t quite know what to make of the man, or his offer “And what exactly would I be getting, or losing in this….gamble?”
The Duke gentely placed the key back into Anon’s cold hand “Either you gain the death you would have found out here, alone, or…..” his meaty smile grew from ear to ear “You find someone to fill that void, take that for whatever it means to you.” The Duke leaned back, the wagon crying out under his enormity. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, his eye turned to the horizon, the sun setting behind the forest tree line. “Night approaches us, Mister Anon, and I must be on my way for now. Do try to take better care of yourself, sir. Your new home on yonder hill awaits.” The stallions at the head of the wagon became restless, as if they knew their master was soon ready to depart. “I’ll be sure to check up on you, and offer supplies should you need them. I’ll start a tab, HAHA!”
Anon began to walk towards the ruined estate with key in hand, his mind wrestling on hesitation and anticipation. “Duke, what do you get out of this?” he inquired.
The merchant flicked his spent cigar in the snow beside him, a faint hiss extinguishing what little embers remained “Why I’m merely providing first class services, and maybe investing in something bigger.”
Shivering from a gust of mountain air, the now revitalized foreigner made his way to his new “home”, he could hear The Duke’s faint words behind him “Oh and one more thing” he shouted “if you do seek new company, offer what little you can provide. Your tenants will be most grateful, or not. Who can say in this uncertain world?”
Upon entering the hollowed remains of the manor, Anon was greeted with bitter winds echoing throughout the vast halls, a chorus of haunting vacancy and isolation. As he walked the corridors of his newly acquired estate, the man was greeted by expressionless faces of portraits of those long past and of sculptures of meticulous detail. The castle had indeed seen better days. Pots were shattered, entire wings were either exposed to the harsh elements of the outside world, or decimated to crumbling stone. Cold marble rang out with the footsteps of their new master, one who knew not what to do with such space or where he would find the resources to properly restore it. After a time, Anon became weary of exploration, and desired the gentle comfort of a warm bed. The personal chambers, one of many he found in his nightly stroll, were more than adequate upon first surveying. Guided only by piercing moonlight, he entered the room, only to be startled by 4 silhouetted figures standing like sentries before him. Anon composed himself, almost self-chastising to be frightened by mere works of art. The night and shadows were clearly playing tricks upon his eyes, though as he entered the room his curiosity itched his mind to these particular sculptures. The décor throughout the home was indeed regal and emanated wealth to match craftsmanship, yet these four pieces were indeed unique even by artisan standards. They were not cut of marble, but crystal that seemed to glitter like starlight. In fact it was hard to say that these figures were cut at all. Feminine bodies looking both natural, yet twisted. Incomplete torsos of people, and what looked to be contorted shapes growing in irregularity. The surveyor never claimed to understand art, but he questioned why one of the four was so much taller than the remaining three if the intent was to create a full set. What was the rhyme or reason to these almost morbid creations? As Anon’s hand extended to touch the largest crystal figure, his senses were alerted, frightened even, by the sound of a cawing crow from yonder window that was still up at this late hour. The man’s composure was restored, and he turned away from the twinkling gem to the comfort of the bed before him. Weary from the day’s events, slumber overtook Anon swiftly, but not before his heavy eyes stared at the enigmatic idols baring witness to his drift from consciousness.

	Awoken by the morning sun, Anon stirred as the sunlight refracted from the crystal statues directly into his pale face. He emerged from the bedspread to pull the large silken curtains together, blocking the piercing light from outside. The new home owner contemplated on what to do with himself with the day ahead, but his thoughts were interrupted by his wandering eye noticing a box laid in plain view on the dresser adjacent to him. The cover of night from hours prior had masked this container from Anon’s view, and it was clearly inviting given the letter meticulously placed in front of it. Just how far did The Duke’s suspicious generosity extend? Unfolding the parchment, inscribed with extravagant calligraphy, revealed a cryptic message that rivaled the box’s contents, which contained a glass vial of unknown black ooze.  “Sample D8-2021. Potency 86%. Active. Handle With Caution.”. Anon did not know what to make of the note, or the vial. Upon closer examination of the mysterious flask, he could have sworn he saw movement from within. Bringing it closer to ensure his eye and mind were not betraying him, Anon became started as the contents violently moved at his disturbance. This sudden jolt from the unknown organism frightened the gentleman, and in an unfortunate and almost comedic display, he dropped the glass vial onto the floor below with a spectacular shatter. The new tenant cursed under his breath, looking down and around to see if there was something he could use to clean up the mess before him. However Anon’s concerns over long lasting stains was overshadowed by the unnatural and alarming events developing before him. His lungs inhaled the ghastly contents from the container, his chest heaving at the foreign contaminants clinging to his throat. His eyes watered, and was brought to his kneels to see the unknown ebony solution creep its way across the rug towards the largest of the crystalline figures. As Anon gasped for air, the sludge embedded itself into the largest of the statues, seeping deep within the small cracks to its very core. Through watery sight Anon observed in disbelief as the tall feminine monolith begin to stir in audible agony. Loud cracking of stone echoed through the room, limbs began to painfully emerge from mere stumps, and the starlight coating turned to dust to reveal white skin paler than death and hair as black as the parasitic tar that revived her. The ghostly giantess, free from her gemlike bonds with a body laid bare for the world to see, collapsed to the floor to meet the eyes of her wheezing savior. Only her expression did not express gratitude, but rather unbridled rage.
“WHERE. IS. HE?” she screamed, her hand clasping around Anon’s neck. It was hard enough to breathe with the unknown spores invading his windpipe, let alone from the woman’s unnatural strength. Luckily for him, the maiden’s strength was waning indicating whatever had restored her clearly was not sufficient. In her efforts to raise him off the ground, her body buckled under her own physique. With his breath finally under control, Anon weaseled his way from his attackers grip. Freeing himself from her mighty grip was only the start, and like a wild animal, the pale mistress began to display far more inhumane qualities. In quick ferocity one of the woman’s hands extended in unholy blades, like hellish gardening tools ready to cut down the man in front of her. Her strike was swift, but not exactly on target. In Anon’s instinct he had raised his arms in defense, and felt his flesh cut to ribbons, leaving four deep incisions on his arm. Had she been closer, Anon could tell his arm would have been cleaved entirely instead of the light, yet still painful graze that had befallen him. As scarlet tears wept from his wounds, Anon made a dash towards the doorway, his pursuer not far behind.
“You will tell me where Ethan Winters is, NOW!” she cried, her movements sluggish from her sudden awakening and her stride almost to a limp. The fleeing Anon had not yet memorized the labyrinth-like halls of estate, and it proved to be a fatal error that would be his undoing upon making a wrong turn only to find a dead end before him. Lumbering not far behind was his pursuer, with one hand braced against the red velvet wall while the other swayed almost lifeless with claws extended. With his flight or fight instincts at full, Anon debated reaching for a weapon clasped by a empty suit of armor, uncertain if it was real or just for show. The chance never presented itself, and the disrobed damsel was about to strike Anon down indefinitely, or at least she would have. Be it luck or misfortune, the wear and decay of the dilapidated castle had begun to show in a rather cataclysmic domino effect. The combined weight of both of them had proven too much for the weathered wood to hold, and both predator and prey fell into the dark lower levels below. Tumbling down each of them were assaulted by both brick and lumber, a flurry of splinters and dust danced in the air until finally reaching the lowest point. Darkness took Anon, the impact returning his mind to a slumber he previously awoken from just minutes prior that very morning. What thoughts lingered before total blackness contemplated the peace of death his body often teased in recent memory. Perhaps this was better, so he thought, unaware that this was merely the beginning.