Chapter 5 Death is Haunting

The storm lashed over the region of Argengau. The heavy rain battered on the thatched roof of the Von Dorcha's castle while everyone, submerged in a deep sleep, felt safe behind the thick masonry walls. There was nothing to fear, no one could harm them even in the darkness of the night...  A heavy and thick darkness extended its silent veil over the castle when a tearing screech broke the stillness inside the mansion. It came from the maidservants dormitories attached to the main building, next to the kitchen area. Those who heard it woke up in the very instant, terrified like the one who wakes up after having a nightmare.

A second high pitch scream was heard, this one was even more horrifying than the other and definitely both were female. Too sharp and dreadfully above the scale in the human's voice was the howling of that one who has faced death... the last exhalation of whom has succumbed to it and its soul left the body in the very last instant right in that finite halo of life.

The guards posted in the perimeter were the first ones to arrive. It was the most macabre scene. Lying on the floor, the dead bodies of two women lied headless, one next to the other. The heads, still with wide opened eyes stared to the ceiling, reflecting nothing more than terror in their purple-lifeless irises. There was blood everywhere, painting the walls with scattered and different size droplets of the carmine liquid portraying the brutality of the massacre. Whoever or whatever it was, murdered with ruthless violence those women. The torches held by the soldiers illuminated every corner in the room while outsides the lightnings flashed intermittently, but even the good moments of light the killer was not found.

After being awakened by the servants, the Count of Argengau arrived to the barracks. "Oh my God! How it's possible this has happened and no one heard or saw nothing until it was too late? Guards! Comb the area, the entire castle in and outside and the nearby woodlands! The assassin must be still in the grounds, hiding only God knows where. Let's pray he's not inside the mansion... That one who kills for vice always craves for more blood to spill. We only need to assure this castle is not the place for a wicked mind... This is horrible", the confused and disturbed man contemplated the decapitated  young maids' cadavers covered in blood.

"Lord Bruce, a third body has been found by the inner set of walls. It's one of the guards and like the women, it's bathed in blood and headless", panting and soaked in rainwater a soldier informed.

"No, this can't be happening! There's no doubt we are facing a mad man, a maniac. He's killed three people and now he lurks in the darkness! Make everyone lock themselves in their rooms for the rest of the night and give the order to your men to double the vigilance and if you find anyone not familiar drag him to the dungeons. If the bastard puts resistance kill him!" The count sweated cold, his hands shaking both for anger and fear. There was someone randomly killing people in his castle and had not left a trace to follow. Everyone was in danger at this moment and the nobleman feared the worst.

And it was that after that tragic night nothing would be the same in the Von Dorcha's Castle. The mysterious and silent killer kept taking its toll on innocent lives using the veil of the night as a shield. Like hostages of terror and death itself, the inhabitants of the mansion  could do nothing than pray for their lives, asking God for never ending daylight, because night meant the same thing as death. A hundred guards wasn't enough on each shift, and with sunset men were decimated. The few remaining now, barely had a chance of resting. Slumber was something never more known for them. They were scared of both sleeping or missing a guarding shift, either ways they could be the next victim.

Each night someone died in the most horrendous way. Some of them beheaded, others dismembered or ripped from the guts out, left lying bloodless on the floor.  And hope didn't come with sunrise. The first rays of sun only made clearer the horrific scenes. Following the elders advices, the bodies were incinerated in pyres and their souls blessed to guide the spirits of those who died in such a tragic way to the other world and to avoid the condemned ones to return as ghosts to torment the living ones as an  undead, not knowing yet if what or who was the killer was human... or not?

Speculating in a more realistic way, many thought that it could be possible it was a wild beast, maybe a wolf hidden in the darkest nooks inside the castle, hunting at night. But the more superstitious retold stories of ancient times; of witches and demons that fed on blood and human souls. And if these fantasy tales told in bygone times to scare the children and force them to go to bed at night were true, the Von Dorcha's castle was a cursed place.

It's been a week after the first murders took place and half of the people who lived there -of those who were still alive- fled fearing for their lives. Only the count and his wife, a few guards and servants (doubled paid to make them stay) remained. Everyone hoped and prayed for the madness to stop while gambling over the worst of fates who would be the next victim. But before it was their turn, Lord Bruce and Lady Bertha had everything set up to leave at sunrise on the morrow. They packed all their jewelry, gold coins and every valuable possession loading in a hustle wooden boxes and sacks.

"Did you close well the door?" The countess asked her husband. The purplish circles under her eyes was a sign of weariness; of a hell-like week in which she'd been deprived the resting, frightened to the bones, feeling like a pray in her own house.

Lord Bruce chained and locked the double door, placing first the heavy crossbar and then the bolts to secure themselves inside their chambers. Feeling like a prisoner in their own room, a prisoner of terror and the unknown, the count gave a grieving look to his wife, fearing more for her life than for his own. He realized that disgrace had posed over his house perpetually and nothing could be done to stop it.

"Don't fret woman, this will be the last night we'll spend in this castle. We will leave tomorrow morning to Constanza. Whatever the hell is haunting this place will rotten to die inside the cold stoned walls of this castle. We will be far away to begin a new life and no specter from the past or present will ever torment us again."

"I can't believe how everything has changed in a few weeks. Fate, God! God! I don't believe in a God anymore! How he dared to take my precious daughter away! And now this! Hell has befallen upon this place and the devil roams at its will in these lands!" A tormented Lady Bertha cried and cursed.

"Don't say that ever... It was better ten thousand times that Leila was killed by illness rather than murdered by a maniac... My dear, let's go to bed, I promise that tomorrow will come with renewed hopes and a better life for us." The count comforted his anguished wife and both went to bed.

Tossing and turning, chasing away nightmares and trying to find a way to sleep, the count and his wife were in bed at least for the last time in the same room they've being sleeping for an entire life. It was short before midnight when a scream was heard, a sharp cry so loud and clear, that there was not doubt it was right down the hallway. Death has come to close this time and haunted just outside their room.

The screech faded finding an end in the voice of a life that extinguished; another victim of the silent reaper. Once again, there was only darkness,and silence and Lord Bruce embraced the woman next to him. Poor Lady Bertha trembled and sobbed in her husband's arms. The room's door shook violently. Something hit from the outsides the wooden and iron planks making the count and the countess jolt up straight with every blow. Death was knocking this time to their door.

Pum! Pum! Loud and thumping sounded each blow and the doorway frame quivered to each strike, every time stronger. A cry choked in Lady Bertha's throat, a cry that was lost in the stillness of the night. And the scream would die there this time along with them for it was useless to yell. No one would come to their rescue. Nobody was left to hear them scream because everyone had left or died.

The countess lit up the oil lamp that timidly illuminated the room. Lord Bruce unleashed his sword and stood in the middle of the bedchamber, facing the doorway. Pum! Pum! Pum! The third blow made the frame shatter and the door fell to the floor making a thundering noise. Splinters went up in the air and a dust clouded the entryway. It only lasted a few seconds and the gray cloud dissipated revealing the assassin's silhouette. It moved forwards and Lord Bruce retroceded. The miserable man couldn't believe his eyes. How? It couldn't be true!

Her long raven hair crowned with a writhed yellowish flowers headdress and her skin was pale white, even whiter than the snow. A stunning face... a face he knew and adored but now was terrifying and painful to stare at. A pair of coal black eyes, like endless pits were empty, soulless, lifeless.

"No! This can't be truth! Leila... My daughter... But you are dead!" Lady Bertha cried out loud standing up, venturing to get closer to what seemed to be the ghost of her passed away daughter.

Tilting her head, Leila moved forwards. Her lips, curving up to form a wicked grin, were covered with fresh dripping blood. A pair of sharp canine teeth protruded from her mouth as she charged against her parents.

***What do you think of this chapter? Did you expect her killing her parents?