Marina
As night fell, the garden’s solar lights sprung to life, casting the area in a warm glow that spread all the way to the old slave quarters. The door to the building sat open, steam billowing out in clouds that dissipated once they came in contact with the outside air.
James leaned against the door frame, only standing to attention when Marina stepped into the garden with Catriona in tow. Marina wore a silk robe that clung to her body and left little to the imagination, while Catriona was wrapped in a terry robe cinched tight at the waist.
“Is everything ready, James?” Marina called out.
“Just the way you like it, Madame. I’ll bring out your wine as soon as you are ready. Would you care for a drink, Catriona?”
“Um, aye, please. A glass of wine would be nice.”
Standing aside, James allowed the women to enter before pulling the door closed and heading back to the house.
As soon as she stepped inside, Marina slipped off the robe and tip-toed over to the tub. Dipping into the water, she glided her hand back and forth, the ripples lazily spreading out and lapping at the side of the tub. She removed her hand and placed her fingers against her chest, sliding them down between her breasts, leaving a thin red trail in their wake. She remembered then that she was not alone. “The temperature is perfect, Catriona. Please, come join me.”
Catriona looked around the room, noticing that the women were gone. The space was spotlessly clean and looked more like a day spa than a place where people were carved open and drained of blood. Relaxing a little, she shrugged off the robe. She wore a bra and panties, her modesty preventing her from going fully nude.
Looking her up and down, Marina smiled. “Whatever makes you comfortable. Come,” she said, beckoning Catriona to the tub. They stepped in and slid into the water at opposite ends, their legs laying on top of one another under the rose-colored water. “How does it feel?” Marina asked.
“It’s…it’s quite nice. You were right; the water smells lovely.”
“Good. I have one more passage to read to you from the journal, and then we can relax. How does that sound?”
“Fine,” Catriona said as she lapped the water up onto her chest and neck. It felt amazing against her skin, and the thought that she was bathing in the blood of women she had seen just a few hours earlier quickly left her mind. Not all of it made total sense, but she was beginning to see the appeal.
Reaching over to the chair, Marina wiped her hands dry on a towel and then picked up the journal, which she flipped open and began to read. “The cold has reached inside and touched every part of my body. There is no way to stay warm any longer, and I fear that the permanent frost of death is almost upon me. I can hear Lasislaus whisper, his voice held in the stone walls of my castle prison. I hear him offer eternal life, and while I now believe him to be a liar, there is a part of me that wants to believe. My final act will be to taint the remaining pages of this journal with my blood. Perhaps someday Ladislaus will find it and bring me back so that we both might live to eternity together. Blood is life, and it will always find a way.”
“Is that it?” Catriona asked, hoping for more.
“That is, as they say, all she wrote.”
The main door opened and James stepped inside, carrying a tray holding two large glasses of wine. He handed over the first to Marina before presenting the other one to Catriona.
“Are you not going to drink with us?” Marina asked, swirling the wine around in the glass before taking a drink, the journal balanced on the edge of the tub.
“I still have some work to do, Madame.”
“That’s a shame. Have you heard from Besh, from Bethany?”
“I have. She is home with her parents, and her father is doing better.”
Marina took another drink of the wine. “Thatsh…what?”
James turned to Catriona and held out his hand. “Get out now. Come on.”
“What’s happening?” she asked, clearly afraid.
Without saying another word, James lunged forward and grabbed Catriona by the wrist. She screamed as he pulled her out of the tub, her cries of protest growing as the scratching sound once again began to ring in her ears.
Marina tried to pull herself up and out of the tub, dropping the wine glass, which shattered on the floor. “What have…Jamesh, what…” she slurred.
Wrapping the robe around Catriona, he pointed to the door. “Grab the gas cans out there and bring them to me. Hurry.” He gave Catriona a shove in the direction of the entrance and turned back to the tub. He knelt down so that he was face to face with Marina.
Her eyes were glassy, and her mouth hung open, a trail of drool spilling from the corner. She tried to speak but only succeeded in slipping a little deeper into the tub, her chin going underwater.
“I’m sorry, Madame, but enough is enough.” He reached out and touched her cheek, feeling guilt as tears began to fall from her emerald eyes. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a knife, which he flicked open. Grabbing her arm, he sliced upwards from the wrist, sending a fresh spray of blood into the water. He reached over to grab her other arm, but she tried to pull away, succeeding only in dropping the journal into the water. As her head lolled to the side, he sliced the other wrist and pocketed the knife as he moved back to the door, where Catriona was standing with a pair of gas cans.
The scent of gasoline filled the air as James splashed the liquid everywhere, coating the straw and the wooden posts. Just as he was about to engage the flame on his lighter, he heard Catriona scream. He turned to look at her and saw that she was pointing at the tub. The water bubbled as though it were boiling, small geysers spraying upwards and splashing the walls with blood-tainted water.
A dark shape began to emerge at the end of the tub where Catriona had been sitting just moments before. As it spread, it became clear that what they were seeing was hair, which began to rise above the surface. The water churned and roiled as the woman stood to full height in the tub, arms spread wide, the journal gripped in one hand.
Behind her, the soaked walls began to crumble as the dead trapped inside the burned bricks tore their way out.
“What the fuck,” James yelled. “Who is that?”
“It’s Elizabeth. She has been set free, and Delphine’s dead are coming, too.”
“What do we do?”
“Send them back,” Catriona said, snatching the lighter out of his hand.
Her wet fingers slid off the spark wheel as she tried to get a flame. “Come on,” she moaned. “LIGHT, YOU FECKIN BITCH.”
Bathory leaned over in the tub and picked up Marina by the throat as though she were nothing more than a rag doll. She bared her teeth and tore a chunk of flesh free from Marina’s neck. More blood flowed, and as it left her body, age lines began to appear all over her body as though carved by an invisible hand. “Ujjaszulettem,” she screamed, flecks of blood flying from her lips.
Tossing Marina’s dead body aside, Elizabeth turned to face James and Catriona, a wicked smile spread across her face. Several bodies had torn free from the walls, while others scraped their nails against the brick as they tried to extricate themselves. The free ones fell upon Marina and began to tear her limb from limb.
As Elizabeth climbed out of the tub, her eyes firmly on Catriona, the lighter finally sparked to life. The small flame flickered for a moment before standing tall. Catriona dropped to her knees and touched the flame to the gas-soaked straw. With a loud whoosh, the fire took hold and fanned out quickly, snaking up the wooden posts and catching hold of the roof beams.
Elizabeth tried to step forward, but the fire drove her back and into the arms of the growing throng of slaves emerging from the walls.
“Time to go,” James said, wrapping his jacket around Catriona as he pulled her outside. He slammed the door and clicked the padlock closed, tossing the key away once he was sure the lock was engaged.
He put his arms around Catriona and guided her through a side gate in the garden. The SUV sat outside, the engine running. Bundling Catriona into the passenger seat, he jogged around the car, jumped inside, and tore off down the street without a backward glance.
The highway was quiet, so James eased off the gas and slipped into the slow lane, relaxing his vice-like grip on the steering wheel. He turned to look at Catriona, who was sitting with her forehead pressed against the passenger window. “How are you doing?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Numb. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”
“I have your things in the back. You’ll find some money in there, too, enough to help you settle wherever you want. You don’t need to go back to Savannah.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled.
“Listen, I have you covered. Our people are already working on your papers. You’ll be legal in a couple of days, so you’re stuck with me until then.”
Catriona sat up and pulled the jacket around her. “What will you do?”
“Bethany is waiting for me.” He sighed heavily. “I’m not going, though. She deserves better than me, and she needs a clean break from all that madness.”
“Where will you go?”
“I have no plans. I’m just going to drive and see where the road takes me.”
Catriona leaned back and closed her eyes. As she started to drift off, she began to feel something wet beneath her eyelids. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt fused closed. The darkness became tinged with red, and the world behind her eyes grew brighter. She began to see shapes form and saw herself, Bethany, and James standing in an open field, arms outspread as a deluge of blood rain soaked them to the bone. She wanted to warn him, tell him that they couldn’t escape the past, but instead, she said, “I’m sure you’ll find a happy home.”