Feeling a little guilty about having spent the whole day in bed, Valeska and Vladan made their way downstairs, half expecting to be told they would need to leave the room, or at least pay for it.
"On the contrary," the manager said. "Adamir has said the suite is yours for as long as you wish to stay."
There was a message from Uncle Mirek too, leaving a phone number. Valeska called him using the hotel landline.
"I haven't told anyone," he said immediately after reassuring her he was in good condition, or as well as could be expected. "About the accident. Have you?"
"No," she admitted. "They'll all just worry, and actually this seems like a nice place to stay."
"Good," he said. "Good. Let me know if you need anything, and I'll pick you up in two weeks otherwise."
"Love you, Uncle Mirek."
Adamir himself, and indeed the whole film crew, were nowhere to be seen. There were only the two English women eating dumplings and sharing a bottle of red wine. "Come join us," the dark-haired one said. "And if you're hungry, you've got to try these... um." She peered at the menu.
"Bryndzové halušky," Valeska supplied with a smile. "And maybe we will."
Introductions were made, chairs repositioned, and more food and drink ordered. "Where is everybody?"
The dark-haired one, Mina, was the more playful of the two. The blonde, Lucy, was very pretty, but reserved. "Oh, you won't see them till sundown," Mina said, grinning. "They obviously think the only way to make a film about vampires is to become vampires themselves. I bet they sleep upside-down, hanging from the rafters."
"They're making - Ohh, Báthory." Of course. Why else film at Čachtice. The realisation disappointed her. "All my life I have lived under the shadow of the fortress. That wicked woman does not deserve to be remembered at all, but her spirit is like that of a vampire, unwilling to stay dead and more seductive with each passing year."
Mina nudged Lucy and said, "You should be taking notes."
A smile warmed Lucy's expression. "It is poetic," she said. "But people don't want real history. They want imagination and magic and excess. The Bathory that is remembered is the one who seduces young virgins and bathes in their blood, a magnificent female monster to rival Count Dracula himself. That we can pretend she was once real and that we can point to her castle and say, 'There lived the infamous Elizabeth Bathory,' only makes the fiction we tell more exciting. It's the same with Dracula: We adore the monster, but care little for the brutal warrior who fought against the Ottoman Empire."
Vladan, meanwhile, had stopped following the conversation. His English was not fluent, and he was, besides, distracted by thoughts of Mircalla. Though he had no doubt Valeska would make a good wife and mother, men had other needs too. Some, like himself, had deeply shameful desires that he had never dared share with anyone. Valeska would be horrified. But Mircalla...
Mircalla, he was sure, would understand. Mircalla could, and perhaps even would, fulfil every one of his desires. He wondered what Mircalla would look like wearing a strap-on. Although he disliked watching porn where men received anal, he loved watching women fuck each other, especially with big, black dildos that were bigger than his own very average cock. Mircalla would understand. She would push him down onto his knees and order him to suck on her huge, black cock, getting it nice and wet for his ass.
With a whimper of pain, Vladan shifted in his seat, trying surreptitiously to reposition his hardening cock that was tangled in his underwear. That was the trouble with there being so much online porn. It filled his imagination with so many possibilities. The women in porn could fuck for hours. They loved it dirty too, cunt, ass, mouth, tits, sometimes multiple cocks in the same hole, and they all loved cum. The real world wasn't like that.
He loved Valeska, and she loved him, and the sex was intimate. It was sufficient. But it did not satisfy. What Vladan craved had nothing to do with love. It was raw, not intimate. It was savage and dirty. Exhilarating. It didn't belong in the marriage bed. Accompanying all these thoughts was an undercurrent of guilt. He was on his honeymoon with the woman he loved, and yet he was obsessing over another. The safe and sane thing to do would be to flee this hotel and its terrible temptation, but he could think of no convincing argument.
Valeska was enjoying her conversation with Mina and Lucy, but her thoughts kept returning to Adamir. She wanted to thank him properly for rescuing her, and Vladan and Mirek too, and also for his kindness in letting them stay in the hotel. Were it not for Adamir, their wedding day would have ended in chaos and tragedy. But also, she wanted to see him for herself. The thought of him stirred a yearning in her that was entirely new. Not even Vladan had this effect on her. Vladan was a good man, attentive and dependable. She loved him and she trusted him. Adamir, in contrast, was a mystery, and such a force of nature almost that Valeska could imagine herself surrendering to his dark and perverse desires - and then hating herself after.
Although what those 'dark and perverse desires' might be, she had no idea. Mina's joking description of Adamir as a vampire troubled Valeska, in part because she had a general contempt for the whole idea, and in part because it brought to mind her dream of Adamir. The details still evaded her, but it had been dark and erotic. She scratched idly at her neck - an act she was only aware of because of Mina's startled expression.
Outside, it was getting dark. The sun had set and any lingering thoughts of leaving the warmth and comfort of the hotel were quickly forgotten. As Mina had predicted, the film crew were emerging from their rooms, checking and preparing their equipment.
And suddenly Adamir was there, his startling eyes fixed on Valeska with furious intensity. "I trust you slept well," he said, not quite a question. Valeska nodded, unable to recall the words she had planned to say. "You and your husband are welcome to stay here for your honeymoon, and it would offend me to talk of payment, but I do have a proposition that I think will intrigue you."
"Thank you - of course - anything," Valeska said hurriedly, tripping over the words. She darted an anxious look at Vladan, but Vladan's attention was elsewhere. Mircalla was descending the stairs, dressed in a warm, ankle-length coat.
"There's a small part in my film," Adamir continued. "A young couple, newlyweds like yourselves, have the misfortune of running into the Countess, and she amuses herself by corrupting their innocence. Sadly the two actors we contracted to play the couple had to bow out, and I was worried I would have to remove the scenes completely, but perhaps you could come to my rescue?"
The thought of it both thrilled and terrified her. To have a part in a film by a major international director? For the rest of her life, she would be able to say to people, "Look! That's us! We were on our honeymoon and..."
"We're not trained actors," she said, trying to be sensible about it.
"I don't need trained actors. I need a young couple very much in love. You would be perfect."
Somewhere lost in the blizzard of Valeska's thoughts was a voice crying out in fear, but with abrupt clarity she remembered her dream, or part of it, and she could almost feel Adamir's arms about her, and his breath cool against her neck.
"Let's do it," Vladan said.
Ignoring all instincts to the contrary, Valaska nodded. "Okay."
4.2 Polystyrene and Paint
Valeska had seen articles in the news about the renovation of Čachtice, but the film crew had gone far beyond that. With polystyrene and paint, tarpaulins and timber, whole sections of the ancient fortress had been resurrected. "At least until the next storm," Anna said, as she gave Valeska a tour of the set. "Beautiful by night, but the illusion does not persist in the sun. Come, let me show you the dungeon you will be thrown into..."
Valeska had seen Čachtice a thousand times from a distance, but had never actually visited. It felt almost as if they were alone up there, save for the wind and ghosts. Anna, tall and pale-skinned, her macabre tattoos bared to the bitter cold, had carried both her camera equipment and Valeska's wedding dress with apparent ease.
