Part
4. Selina
Back to Wanderings
Selina was very pleased with herself, because she knew where the boy-magus was hiding. She smiled in satisfaction as she shifted down and sped by the ancient Skoda, which was labouring up the hill. The Skoda's driver only caught a glimpse of the beautiful raven-haired woman driving the black Porsche. She whisked by a road sign, which read: " esky Krumlov 15."
To her right, the setting sun was turning the frozen fog into a pink haze, the colour of a drop of blood swirling in a bowl of milk. The forested hills of Šumava were bare except for the brooding pines, and Selina rejoiced in the coming darkness. Night was her element, like sal forest to the tiger, a web to the spider. In the day's last glimmering, she saw the spire of St. Vitus's church and the brooding mass of the Rosenburg's old castle. She parked her car at the Hotel Ru e, and smiled a wicked smile. Tonight, she'd screw the boy-magus in an old Jesuit's cell, for that was the hotel's original function -- a monastery. She loved herself dearly, and she loved these ironies as much. Selina glanced at the digital clock in her dashboard: 17:36. She had six hours and 24 minutes to find him, seduce him, and drive him to the Black Sabbat in Prague. Taking out her lipstick, she looked at herself in the mirror -- she never had a problem doing that -- and then sensually applied the smooth glossy colour to her full lips. It looked like wet blood.
She checked to make sure her room was prepared, and then walked out into the gathering night, full of purpose and longing. The boy- magus was out there, and tonight she'd have him -- then she'd give what was left to the others. Selina zipped up her leather bomber's jacket, and flipped her long, silky hair on the outside. She wore a plain white blouse under the jacket, and tight, faded jean. Instead of her usual boots she wore sneakers. Patten would find her irresistible, she knew.
His trail was everywhere. The Wizard had taught her how to see it. Selina shivered unconsciously when she thought of the Wizard, so much like her, yet so much more powerful. She followed the glowing footprints, the ribbons of light which traced the little town of Cesky Krumlov to several restaurants and bars, until she found him.
He was sitting in a darkened kavarna, a Czech cafe, lit only by a fireplace and a few sputtering candles. Patten sat alone in a room full of people, all of them talking and laughing; he stared forlornly at the firepit, watching a chicken roast over the embers, its fat sizzling in the glowing scarlet heat. Several men watched Selina as she entered (and one woman) and she knew she could have any of them if she'd wanted. Perhaps on another night, she would have had all of them, but not tonight, she wanted only the boy- magus, the man with the silver footsteps. She closed the door behind her, and approached the seat opposite Patten, which by good fortune was the only one free. "It's free?" she asked in Czech.
""What?" Patten said, disturbed from his reverie.
"It's free?" Selina repeated in English
"Oh yes, of course," Patten agreed, and then realized, "oh, you speak English!"
"Oh yes, of course," Selina said, affecting an English accent, "I'm English."
"Really?"
"Well," Selina confided, "my father was Romanian, but my mother was English."
"That's interesting," Patten said, actually meaning it, and wishing he'd thought of a better way of putting it. He was delighted by his fortune. Maybe everything would be okay after all; a beautiful woman sitting across from him, who also spoke English was a good start anyway. "I don't know much about Romania," he added.
"Oh, neither do I," Selina lied. "I think my father was from Transylvania, you see, but he left mother and that's about all I know." It was a version of the truth -- Selina's father had been from Transylvania.
"Transylvania," Patten mused, "that's Dracula's neck of the woods."
"So it is, so it is," Selina smiled, a predatory smile, a seductive smile. "And where are you from?"
"Oh, across the pond."
"I thought so from your accent."
"So you grew up in England?"
"No, no, I grew up in Slovakia -- with my aunt," Selina said thoughtfully. "She was a terrible old hag, but she taught me everything I know . . . well," she thought for a moment, remembering the Wizard, "almost everything."
"So you live in Slovakia?"
"Yes," she confirmed, "and you live in Prague, correct?"
"Yeah," Patten said with surprise, "how'd you know that?"
"An instinct," Selina purred, "call it instinct." She leaned across the table, and held Patten's hand. Patten felt a cold thrill of sex charge up his arm, into his solar plexus, and down into his groin. "I was drawn here, you see."
"Really," Patten said cautiously. All he could see was this woman's lips, her mouth; all he could feel was her hand on his, and it worried him. Patten had always been a little detached when it came to sex, but this woman was different. She was . . . compelling, in more than just her physical attractiveness. There was something about her presence too. Patten had the uncomfortable intimation that her presence was expanding . . . crowding the shadows in the flickering candlelight. He felt engulfed, almost smothered by it, and despite this, it excited him. He knew he was stepping wrongly when he said, "I'm glad you were drawn to me."
"You are?" Selina said, sincerely delighted. The boy-magus was like other men -- willing to surrender to her pleasure. For a moment, Selina experienced a regret -- it was almost too easy -- but the scruple passed quickly. She asked him to buy her a drink, and they talked about esky Krumlov; while they talked, she studied him, cat-like. She was tempted to play with him like a mouse, but he was too important for that. Eventually, she asked, "what next?" It wasn't really a question.
They walked up the narrow, crooked stone road, the walls of the surrounding buildings leaning in like leering old men. It was nine o'clock, and Selina tried not to rush things, but she knew she needed an hour and a half to drive back to the Black Sabbat. A full moon was rising behind the old medieval town, and Patten noticed it. He couldn't explain to himself why that ponderous orb caused him such an incredible sudden sadness, especially in the sensual presence of Selina, who held his hand like a caress. He squeezed her hand and stopped for a moment. Selina turned to him with a questioning look in her dark eyes. Her hair shrouded her beauty with sinister mystery, and once again, Patten was compelled. He kissed her lightly, his lips just brushing hers. It was electrifying, and Selina smiled again, whispering huskily into Patten's ear, "there's much more than that."
Patten picked up his pace, and Selina glanced surreptitiously at his feet. Bright white light flashed with each footfall! She felt a thrill of excitement: she had the boy-magus -- all his power could be hers!
At the hotel, Selina led Patten to the room. It was a special room to her, a room which carried an old taint that she planned to erase now. This particular cell used to belong to Father Bernard, a Jesuit priest from Alsace-Lorraine, sometime in the late 17th century. Selina had lost track of the years. But Father Bernard had appealed to her -- Selina had spotted him while she visited the local lord at Krumlov Castle. Bernard had been the children's tutor, and Selina had caught Bernard's eye at court and thought, "ah, a true Christian. They are the tastiest!" That night Selina had flown to the Jesuit college. It was in the days when she could still fly, when she still actually drank blood, and she entered through Bernard's cell window.
Bernard had been waiting for her that night, and greeted her thus: "good evening Satan. I'm ready for you."
Selina had seen this kind of bravado before, but they always succumbed to her charms eventually. She disrobed, rubbed herself lewdly, and then sat down on the cleric's lap. He pushed her off, and she mocked him, "like it rough, do we?"
"We like it not at all, Evil One," the Jesuit insisted, and started praying fervently. Selina was very bored by this, and she dug under the priest's robe, searching for his root. To her disappointment, there was no reaction, not even as she knelt down and kissed it. She hissed, "now you force me to be brutal!" Selina stood up and scratched his neck with a clawing motion, and then licked the blood. And nothing had happened of course, because it had all been done by force. The priest had had no compliance. He had merely repeated psalms.
Then Selina had been forced to admit defeat. It was one of the few times, and she smiled now as she and Patten entered Bernard's old room. She could see the tiny window she'd entered so many years before, and remembering Bernard's posture, sat Patten down in a chair the way the priest had been.
Selina stripped for Patten slowly, inflaming his desire. When she was naked, as if on cue, moonlight poured into the window and limned the curve her hips, cast darkness on her sex. She sat down in Patten's lap, and kissed him, this time with depth. Patten responded passionately, caressing her inexpertly, which titillated Selina even more. Surely he wasn't a virgin too?
She was disappointed in this, but not in Patten's compliance. Selina rode him astride the seat, gazing into Patten's eyes, waiting for the moment of release, the rush of energy which would allow her to take all his will and magic. She waited, rocked, and then recognized the sudden tension in Patten's thighs. He gasped, and she began to laugh. But it was merely physical. No rush of magic from his source to hers . . . no depletion of will occurred. Selina was confused. At this point, at this point of sexual release, her victims always gave over their souls to her. She kissed Patten passionately and tried to suck the spirit from him, thinking that with the boy-magus, she actually had to take his spirit. But there was a wall, a barrier between the two. She forced her will into trying to draw Patten's energy from him, as his orgasm ended and faded. Patten felt a tug at his mind, and he found himself drifting off into unconsciousness.
Selina was upset, but still wily. As Patten slipped under, he could hear Selina whispering, sweetly, "who protected you this way? Hmmm? What kind of condom magic is this?"
"Numbers," Patten mumbled, "Dr. Faust's numbers," he repeated, and child's smile forming on his lips. "You're a vampire, aren't you?"
"Not as long as you've got those numbers," Selina griped. Patten fell into a deep unconsciousness, brought on by Selina's attempts to breach Rudy's magic. His legs were deliciously weak, and in his heart, he thanked Rudy for the protection.
Selina cursed her luck with this particular room. Only three times had she been denied her kill, her victim's essence, and twice in this room. She was frustrated. She dressed them both and carried Patten down to her car, cursing the room one more time, and the entirely unhelpful full moon.
Copyright 1993, M. Tundra