The Unknown Mistress - An Erotica and Romance Paranormal/Historical Novella (2 page)

“You’re younger than I thought,” the other guard said and smiled. “Prettier, too.”

“
Quiet.
” The guard who had spoken first shot his brother in arms a warning glare. “Or I’ll have the duke put you on sewer cleaning duty.”

His friend glowered and made a disgusted face. “It was meant as a compliment,” he muttered.

“I apologize,” the first man said. “My friend has forgotten his manners. It’s the weather. Any more rain, and we’ll all go mad.” He shook his head. “
Merde.
I wish I was at the tavern instead of stuck here.”

The man was unusually chatty for a guard, but Jany put that down to nerves. She understood how he felt. The downpour and the cold worried her too. “I know what you mean,” she said. “I’d rather be home too, but work is work.”

The men smiled, although Jany saw a hint of hunger in the eyes of the man who had commented on her age. Had she not been there on official business – whatever business that would turn out to be – she might have trouble getting past him. Fortunately, his colleague seemed more civilized.

“A word of warning,” the man said and looked around at the shadows in the courtyard. “You should be careful in there. He’s in a foul mood.”

“The duke?” Jany asked.

“Him too,” the guard replied, “but I meant that witchfinder.” He spat in the mud and wiped his mouth. “Mad as a drunk goat, that one. And dangerous to boot.”

“Has he accused anyone?” Jany guessed the answer, but it was always good to come prepared.

“Two women,” the guard said, nodding. “Charged with being vampires. It’s a shame. And this time, it’s very bad.”

“Why?” Jany wondered what could possibly make the situation worse? The accused women would almost certainly face a long and horrendous death.

“They aren’t just any two girls,” the guard said.

“Are they nobles?” Jany asked in disbelief.

The guard shook his head. “They’re maids. Sweet to the eye but otherwise common. But they are part of the
Baroness of Orable
’s staff.”

“I’m not sure who she is,” Jany said. The name was unfamiliar, but that was unsurprising. She knew little about the world of the aristocracy other than that it was dangerous. Too many rich people with too much time on their hands.

The other guard gestured high in the air with a gloved hand. “This bloody tall,” he said, “with the face of an angel but eyes of ice. I met a Norwegian once who had the same look to her.”

“But I think her maids are doomed,” the first guard said solemnly. “The baroness didn’t look like the forgiving kind. If her staff has been misbehaving, they’re off to prison for sure. And who knows?” he added. “Maybe they really
are
vampire devil witches.”

“Vampire devil witches?” Jany echoed. Apparently, the general paranoia had started to generate new and unfortunate descriptions.

The guards shared a look and then nodded. “Rumours say they have bite marks and all,” one of them said. “The duke is furious because he’s responsible for the baroness’s safety, and now his guest nearly got eaten alive.”

Jany blinked in the rain. “Cannibalistic vampire devil witches?” she asked. People’s imagination was clearly getting the best of them.

“I’d watch my step in there,” the first guard advised. “Out here, too. The shadows are alive, my word on it. Yesterday, my friend’s sister saw a two-headed cat with burning red eyes.”

“And last night,” the other man chimed in, “my wife spotted a bat the size of a large dog sleeping perched on a rooftop.”

His colleague frowned. “Bats don’t perch,” he scoffed. “They roll up like cats.”

“Actually – ” Jany began.

“Is that so?” The man whose expertise in bats was challenged glared at the other guard. “Are you an expert on Satan’s pets now?” he demanded. “If my wife saw a demon bat perching on a roof, then she bloody well did.” After a pause, he added “Sir.”

“Your wife is probably
blind
as a bat.
And shut your mouth before you scare of the scribe here. The poor girl looks disgusted.”

“I’m sorry,” Jany said, straightening her face. “But those stories sound like fairytales.”

The guard looked at her with concern. “Did you hear about the man who fell from the sky and crashed through the roof of a restaurant last night?”

“Oh, yes.” Jany shook her head in dismay over the incredible tale. “That was such a crazy story.”

“I’m not so sure I’d doubt that rumour,” he murmured.

“Why not?”

“Because I was sitting two tables away when it happened.” He gestured at the entrance. “Now hurry on. If I were you, I wouldn’t want the duke’s mood to get any worse.”

*

Jany walked slowly across the large courtyard while mud and water flowed over the cobblestones around her feet. On her sides were long rows of shops, their windows shuttered and barred. Rain fell off their roofs like small waterfalls; the drizzle was turning into new downpour again. The shops were run by duke’s staff, a small army of servants and artisans, horse keepers and bakers, tailors and tanners, carpenters and masons.

A year earlier, Jany had taken notes on a supposed theft from a smithy, and she remembered the courtyard as a busy hive of activity. Tonight it looked abandoned and derelict. Only the smell of tar and dung, still strong despite the rain, suggested that the space usually was more lively.

On the other side of the large yard was the main building, a towering bastion of pale stone surrounded by a second moat. Each of its four storeys held over forty rooms and chambers, or so the maids said. Many of its windows were lit, but the downpour dimmed the lights and made them look faint and fluttering.

She could tell that something was wrong. There were no lights or movement from behind the shops’ windows, even though she knew that many lived there. Apart from a cat that had sought cover under a cart, she was alone in the courtyard, surrounded and isolated by high, dark walls. Most people were somewhere else, and she suspected where: They were hiding. If the duke had allowed it, they were probably inside the castle, waiting for the witchfinder to proclaim his judgement.

And she was there to record the maid’s sentence. The court might even decide that she had to witness the execution. The idea made her weak with uneasiness. Up to this point, her trade had been endurable, but now she cursed the day she had taken on this task.

When she neared the massive double doors, they were opened by a pair of uniformed men. Both of them were pale and wide-eyed. They must have watched through a peephole as she crossed the courtyard, and now they looked at her as if she was a bringer of the plague. She knew the reason behind their expressions; most occasions that needed her presence meant ill news. Perhaps they thought her arrival cemented the deaths of the imprisoned women. Maybe they were right, too. Without a word, they waved her inside and slammed the doors shut behind her.

The hall in which she stood was large and circular, its ceiling too far above to make out in the faint light from the oil lamps near the doors. The smell of tar and mud changed to wet stone, perfume and sweat. Two dozen guards stood huddled close to the lamps. Some of them looked at her as if expecting her to turn into a monster. Their drawn weapons gleamed in the faint light. Even in here, the sense of fear was strong.

Soon Jany made out shapes in the murk, and she saw mounted around the room countless stuffed animal heads, row after row. Hunting trophies, hundreds of them. Most of the trophies were probably French, but in the gloom, they looked to her like beasts made of pure shadow. A wide staircase in dark marble started in the centre of the room and led straight up to another pair of doors. Raised voices and angry shouts came from the doors at the top of the stairs. It sounded like the market square at
Place
du Capitole
on a Saturday morning, only with a strong tone of panic.

“They’re in there.”One of the guards gestured with his sword at the doors at the top of the stairs. “All of them except us. And a few unlucky sods in the dungeons,” he added under his breath. “Unless they’re vampire fodder by now.”

“The duke too?” Jany asked, wondering if all the guards were this superstitious. Then she wondered what had set these men on edge so much; the city’s guards were known for their bravery. What had they seen or heard? The shadows in the room seemed to stretch and creep towards her while she listened to the racket from the room above the stairs.

The guard nodded. “The duke is there, along with the witchfinder, his followers, and around fifty or so aristocrats who’ve come for the ball. Oh, and a crowd of staff, servants, and other people. I can’t tell who is the angriest. And I think they’re waiting for you.”

Jany thanked the guard and walked towards the stairs. Her hands shook so hard she could barely hold on to her journal and her writing tools. Had there been any chance to leave the city unnoticed, she would have run. Swallowing hard, she did her best to scrape off the worst of the dirt from her shoes and then walked up the stairs, feeling as if she was heading towards her own execution rather than someone else’s. If the maids really had wounds that looked anything bite marks, there was little hope for them, regardless if they had been attacked by dogs or just injured themselves by falling down the stairs. This much hysterical fear could only lead to misery.

Her heart raced as she reached the top of the stairs. The noise from the room beyond the doors was almost deafening, a chorus of shouts and curses that seemed ready to burst out like an avalanche.
Tread carefully,
she told herself.
Stay observant. Watch everything. Trust in your head and your heart.

Holding that thought firmly in her mind, she tried to control her breathing and opened the doors.

*

As she had expected, the doors opened to a large room, but she still gaped at its size. At least seventy steps across and with a high ceiling painted with colourful landscapes, it had to be the ballroom. Large white marble tiles covered the floor, and the walls were decorated with tall frames of carved wood and purple tapestries the size of boat sails. Two gigantic suspended candelabras with a myriad of candles bathed the room in a soft but bright glow. On her left and right were arched windows, four on each wall and each as tall as three men, which offered views over the storm that was rolling in over Toulouse.

The room was also crowded beyond belief. Not only were there more aristocrats here than she ever had seen gathered in one place, but there were also over a hundred guards, many more servants, and a great number of other people. Adding to the throng were a dozen magistrates and judges in blue livery who were engaged in a heated debate among themselves. It was as if everyone in the castle had gathered here, along with every soul in the nearby area who knew the duke well enough to gain entrance to his home. Which, she thought, probably was exactly the case.

The duke was easy to spot. Surrounded by men in medal-laden suits and women clad in extravagant dresses that defied both gravity and reason, the bearded man sat on a throne-like chair and watched the pandemonium in silence. Known as a proud man with a temper, he looked as if he had left angry in the dust hours ago and galloped onwards into furious.

Towards the back of the room was a woman who stood out from the other ladies clustered near her. Tall, blonde and regal, and sitting in a chair only slightly less ornate than the duke’s, she looked like the calm queen of felines lumped in with a group of fretting farmstead cats. The deep green dress she wore was more lace than cloth. Her age was difficult to tell; her bearing and apparent confidence suggested that she was in her early forties, but her light, perfect skin and rich hair made her look many years younger.

One thing was for certain: she was not happy. Her face could send thunderclouds running for cover. Without doubt, she was the visiting aristocrat whose servants supposedly had been corrupted by Satan. Letting her gaze linger on the woman’s stern face, Jany was glad she was not the devil; given half a chance, that Lady would probably give him an earful.