"The Blood is the Life Affair" ~ the conclusion

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chapter 4: Ashes Ashes, we all fall down.

He couldn’t help himself sometimes, and having someone as irresistible as Terézia leading him to her bedroom didn’t help either. She offered herself up to him pressing her body against him as soon as the door to her room was closed behind them. Of course he couldn’t refuse such an enticing offer, he thought as he pulled her soft sweater over her head.

Her breasts were full, calling an invitation to his lips and Terézia moaned loudly as he caressed them with his tongue. He maneuvered her towards the bed, suddenly finding himself lacking the energy to lift her into his arms and carry her there.

They lay together in her bed, entwined naked in each other’s arms, but eventually his lack of energy overpowered his enthusiasm and though every bit of her almost familiar sensual body called out to him; he decided against a second go around with her.  

Napoleon slipped from the bed, leaving the woman asleep. He found himself barely having the able to dress himself as he felt terribly exhausted. He staggered as he returned to his room, then dropped into his bed and like his Russian friend, fell asleep instantly.

Illya looked in on him, seeing his partner out cold and he decided not to wake him up as discussing the incident in the car port could wait. It was better to let Napoleon sleep as long as he needed if he were indeed becoming ill.

He wasn’t feeling that well himself, and was convinced he had caught a cold from being overheated, then soaked in the rain. But he wasn’t that ill to forgo a good meal. Even though he had just eaten a bowl of soup, he was ready for a full dinner and headed down to the dining room.

The Count questioned where Napoleon was, and Illya indicated he was feeling a bit under the weather. Illya noticed that Terézia was absent as well, but said nothing.

“Kolos, küldünk levest Mr.Solo vascora után_ we will send some soup up to Mr. Solo after dinner. So I understand you looked at my car today Mr. Kuryakin, in what condition did you find it?”

“It needed some minor adjustments and was actually in fair condition, once I get some petrol into it I suspect it will be running fine.”

“Why thank you,” the Count smiled, “ I did not realize that U.N.C.L.E. had such varied training for their agents?”

“Not part of our training, but just a thing or two I have picked up over the years... I was wondering if my hat and coat had been located yet as they had mysteriously disappeared while I was working on your vehicle.”

“Yes so I was told, I am so sorry for the inconvenience Mr. Kuryakin. Kolos will be sure to find you replacements.”

Illya found it strange that the Count seemed unconcerned that there had been a possible theft from one of his guests, even if it was just an old trench coat and hat... very strange indeed.

.

Napoleon slept fitfully, he was dreaming again as the three young women covered him with their delectable bodies, they all reminded him of Terézia, but this time he felt compelled to resist their touch, yet it  became a losing battle as he finally made love to them again, each time resulting in an explosive but painful orgasm.

Illya watched Napoleon wake with a gasp as he came into the bedroom carrying a tray with bowl of chicken soup, but hastilyset it down, seeing how badly his friend looked.

He was soaked with sweat, and seemed drained of all color and now there were dark circles under his eyes.  Illya put his hand to Napoleon’s forehead again, finding his skin it alarmingly cold to the touch.

“Napoleon you are very ill.”

“Nooo,” he moaned, “I’m just tired, will you go away and let me sleep.”

“No, you are going to sit up and eat this chicken soup. I think it will do you good.

And you need to listen to me, something strange is going on here. You imagining those bizarre tapestries, your dreams, my coat and hat disappearing while I was working on the car...perhaps you becoming ill,” he said, looking suspiciously at his friend’s wrist.

Napoleon glanced at the walls, seeing the tapestries had changed, the erotic ones were gone. “Noooo I saw them, they were there,” he pointed, “and I think my dreams weren’t dreams at all, I think they were real. Earlier today I overheard a conversation between Magdala and Moríc, I understood two words, daughters and escape.”

“Napoleon, you are thinking that they might be these mysterious women who seduced you in your dreams?”

“Not dreams, real.”

Solo looked down at other his wrist as he brought a spoonful of hot soup to his mouth, seeing another similar bruise and cut as he had on this other one. Surely this couldn’t have happened when he was in bed with Terézia?

“What the fu..” Before he could finish the sentence he passed out.

Kuryakin caught his partner before he fell face first into the bowl of soup in front of him. He hefted him up, carrying him back to the bed, examining the wounds on the wrists then covering Napoleon with the blankets, and heavy red quilt.

This was not good, the paleness, weakened condition and the strange slices on his bruised wrists, the heightened erotic dreams...these were all symptoms related to the victims of those creatures created by the Nazi experiments as he had read in Moríc’s notes. Now Illya wondered if Solo had been attacked by these vampire-like creatures that had been spoken about. Escaped daughters, when Tedescu denied any issue...it all made sense. There were people infected with the neurotoxin. It was time to talk to Moríc and ascertain the truth.

Illya went down to the cavernous rooms beneath the house to Moríc’s laboratory, when he arrived the found the door ajar.

“Moríc? Ott vagy_ are you there?” He called out. The walked into the room, finding it a wreck. There were shattered beakers, glass and papers  everywhere.

“Moríc,” he called louder.He walked beside one of the desks, spotting a pair of legs on the floor protruding from behind it.

Illya quickly drew his weapon from its holster, taking a defensive stance as he checked the area, but found no one there.

He knelt beside the body, rolling it over and seeing that it was Moríc. The man was dead, and his skin was ghastly white, whiter than he’s seen any recently dead corpse. He realized that his blood was gone, complete exsanguination.

Illya suddenly had a gut feeling and checked Moríc’s wrists, finding the same cuts and bruising that Napoleon bore.

He left the lab, heading back upstairs at a run, going directly to the library seeking out the Count. There he found him and his wife arguing with each other.

He walked into the room without hesitation.

“Moríc is dead, in his lab,” he announced coldly. “He has been drained of all his blood. And now I insist that you tell me what is going on here, whose daughters have escaped and why were they being held?”

Tedescu cursed, looking angrily at his wife.

“Es a te híbad te bolond_this is your fault you fool!” He yelled, striking Magdala in the face.

IIlya pulled back his fist, striking the Count in the the jaw, sending him flying to the floor.

“I do not care about who is at fault! I want answers now?” Illya drew his Walther from  beneath his shirt, aiming it directly at Tedescu.

“Stop stop! I will tell you, “the Count said, pulling himself up, dusting off his pants.

“There are daughters, three of them that I fathered with my mistress. You have met one of them...Terézia. The others as well as she were injected with the neurotoxin by my idiot brother Moríc, upon the insistence of my useless wife, who could not give me children.”

“Te vzívtelen rohadék_you heartless bastard!” Magdala spat at him.

“Elég_enough!” Illya barked.”Finish now Tedescu.”

“Two of the daughters manifested the symptoms immediately, and I was forced to have them locked up in a cell beneath the house. Terézia did not react to the formula as extremely as her sisters and the condition has been manageable, shall we say?”

“So that was blood that she was drinking at dinner last night?” Illya asked, feeling disgusted.

“Unfortunately yes. I am afraid now that we are all in danger with the girls being on the loose. That is why I contacted U.N.C.L.E. as I was hoping your organization would find a counter agent to cure my daughters.”

“You are afraid now?” Illya shook his head.” The truth would have been better from the beginning as a warning would have been prudent. Your daughters have attacked Napoleon, and now he lies ill in his bed. If he dies, Count, you will pay with your life...all of you will pay, I swear it.” He threatened in a low, menacing voice as he stared at them with his icy cold blue eyes.

He turned leaving them, heading back up to Napoleon.

Kolos called from behind him in the foyer.

“Sir, it is true...vámpírok roam these halls? I overheard,” he apologized, “I did not mean to eavesdrop.”

“Of a kind Kolos, it might be wise lock your door tonight.”

“I do not think so sir, I have been loyal to this family all my life as was my father and his father before me....but this I draw the line at. Good bye sir.” Kolos raised the collar of his coat, pulling it tightly about him.

“But it is still storming Kolos?” Illya said.

“I would risk the storm rather than stay in this house one more moment, I will take my cousins with me and go to our Uncle's house, where we will be safe.  I suggest you leave too sir.”  At that the man opened the heavy door, disappearing out into the dark, stormy night.

Illya wished he had that option, but with Napoleon in the condition he was in, he felt it not wise to risk traveling in the storm. He hurried back to his partner’s room, he entered and locked the door immediately.

Napoleon still wrapped in his blankets was shivering as Illya checked him. Kuryakin lit a fire, turned on all the lights in the room, and lighting several oil lamps on the tables and dresser. He pulled a chair up beside the bed, preparing to sit vigil not only on his partner, but in watch for these Vampiry, he called them in Russian.

Hours passed, and the room became very warm making Illya drowsy; he tried shaking off the the feeling, but his eyelids slowly drooped and he fell asleep.

He awoke with a start, sensing a presence in the room and that’s when a woman dressed in a long red gown threw herself upon him, hissing wildly.  It was Terézia.

“Nincs megállás_ no stop!” He cried out as she held him down with incredible strength

She ignored his plea, slicing into his neck with her golden fingernail, and plunging her lips to the wound, sucking the blood from Illya's throat, at the same time she reached down grabbing at his genitals.

Illya moaned, unable to fight her, finding the experience bizarrely erotic as he became aroused.

Suddenly Terézia released him, and fell to the floor. That’s when he saw Napoleon standing behind her with a candlestick in his hand.

Illya looked up, recovering from the hypnotic effects of the woman’s blood-letting. “We need to get out of here now.” He gasped as he rose.

Another woman appeared, running at them as sge suddenly appeared from an secret door behind the tapestries.

Illya instinctively drew his weapon, firing a live round and killing the creature instantly.  Her body went flying, knocking over the table and an oil lamp sitting on it, setting the carpet on fire instantly. The flames spread quickly as the two agents grabbed each other for support, retreating out into the hallway.

“I have the car up and running, we just need to put petrol in it...come,” Illya said, holding a napkin to his throat while he pulled Napoleon along as the hall filled with dark acrid smoke.

They staggered down the stairs finding the bodies of the Count and Magada lying dead near the front door.

Then there was a blood curdling scream as the third sister charged at them from the library. She stopped as the bullet from Kuryakin’s gun hit her right in the middle of her forehead, her eyes still wide as if looking at them as she collapsed down to the floor.

The flames were dancing like wild creatures down the railing and carpet on the stairs as the two agents opened the door, heading out into the driving rain.

Illya lead Napoleon around to where the car was was kept, putting him in the passenger seat of the car while he went in search of the fuel.  He found the canisters in the back behind the vehicle and quickly emptied them into the fuel tank.  The last bit of petrol he dumped on the floor and walls of the car port, thinking that it all should be destroyed....as the place in deed was accursed, letting superstition overtake his usually logical mind.

Illya climbed into the driver's seat, pumping  the gas pedal a few times, then held his breath as he turned the key.

There was only a grinding sound as it tried to kick over. “Chyort_ shit!” he cursed, as he flung open the door, then opened the bonnet of the car.

I quickly tinkered with a few of the connections, calling to Napoleon to try turning the key again. This time the engine roared to life. Illya closed the hood quickly then dove again into the seat.  He floored the gas pedal, sending dirt and debris flying into the air as it took off out into the rain.

He steered it wildly over the rocky terrain as they drove past the Tedescu home, then pulled to a stop after they were about a mile away.

The house was fully engulfed in flame, and Illya was sure that would be the end of the vampire stories, as least as far as this family was concerned.

Napoleon smiled at him weakly. “So how do you want to report his one to the old man?”

Illya shrugged, pulling the bloody napkin from his shirt collar. “As it happened, but I think it best that we do not use the word, Vampire.”

“Agreed...now home James.”

    

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Napoleon smiled, “ Hey thanks tovarisch for coming to the rescue?”

“It was you who rescued me... oh and the sex part, I think we should leave out at well.”

“Oh yeah, you’ve got that right.”

Illya put the car into gear as the windshield wipers fought against the driving rain.

.

A lone figure stood by a large tree a few hundred yards away from the house as the crackling flames burned and hissed in the rain, watching the vehicle as it sped away.

Terézia Tedescu wrapped herself tightly in her red cape while clutching the ruby-encrusted dagger in her hand; on its blade was inscribed the blood is life.

She smiled, deciding to walk to the village...

.

Végén ~ Finis