Dave Zeltserman - Monster

“A small village. Not too far from our own city of Innsbruck.”

“Clothe her! She is to be brought back to her home. She is not to be harmed. Do you understand me?”

He nodded, although his eyes showed his disappointment. The girl was helped to her feet by the two members who had previously held her down, and they now helped her with her clothing. She looked like she wanted to flee, but was too paralyzed with fear to do so.

“Do not worry, child,” I told her. “You will be brought home safely. I promise you that.”

I turned to the leader of this black satanic mass. “Why are your people waiting? I want her travel to commence now!”

“Now?” he asked glumly. “But your lord, it will be dark soon and it is a hard two days travel.”

“I see that you have torches. Your people can use them.”

He nodded without much enthusiasm, and ordered two of the Satanists to take her. They didn’t like the idea, and they tried arguing that they had traveled all this distance to be in my service and that they did not wish to leave me now. I ended their argument by bellowing at them to do as they were being asked. For a moment they both looked like they might expire where they stood, but once they regained their composure they nodded meekly.

“Make sure you bring enough food and water for her,” I said. “I wish her to be made comfortable.”

Again, they nodded with their eyes downcast. I watched as they gathered up supplies, and once they left with the girl, I ordered the other Satanists to remove their robes.

They did as they were commanded and stood naked in front of me. I was surprised to see that they were an almost even mix of men and women. The men all seemed to be either thin and bony or plump; none of them had the type of physique to indicate that they labored for their livelihood. Most likely these were bankers, lawyers and bureaucrats. Or perhaps noblemen who were provided incomes without ever needing to work. A grin wrinkled my face as I imagined how some of them might even be members of the clergy. The women among them seemed younger as a whole, and more attractive, but the softness of their bodies also showed them to be of the same privileged class as the men.

The Satanist who had held the long curving knife and who had first addressed me was of the thin and bony variety. He was perhaps fifty, and had a long scrawny neck that showed a pronounced Adam’s apple. His face, like his body, held little flesh.

“Your lord,” he spoke, his eyes showing his eagerness to please me. “We have brought a throne for you, and much wine. Would it please you to be seated?”

As I looked at him and the rest of the Satanists, a heavy weariness fell over me. At that moment, the thought of sitting down appealed to me, as did drinking enough wine to allow me to escape my thoughts. I told him to bring their throne, and the wine.

Half a dozen of them rushed off, and when they returned they brought back a wagon that was being pulled by a team of donkeys. These men proceeded to unload a great wooden chair that was covered with satin cushions. This chair would have been far too big for me when I was Friedrich Hoffmann, or any other man or woman, but was the proper size to hold me now. They struggled as they carried the chair to me. While they did this, other members removed wine barrels from the wagon.

I sat in this chair and it fit me well. One of them had filled a large golden goblet with wine, and had handed it to me. I drank it quickly and the goblet was refilled. Other Satanists built a fire. The goat was slaughtered, and I watched as they roasted it over the flames.

Their leader approached me, the one with the pronounced Adam’s apple.

“I hope all is satisfactory,” he said. “I apologize that the virgin we brought was not to your liking. Do you desire any of our women to pleasure you?”

The women all came forward to show themselves, their faces bright with anticipation and eagerness. I emptied my goblet and held it out for it to be refilled.

“Right now all I want is to sit and drink wine,” I said.

“If instead you would like us to bring back younger girls for you, or even young boys—”

My eyes flashed as I growled at him that I wished for now to simply enjoy the wine. I was finding him equally as detestable as I had found Victor Frankenstein’s honored guest, the Marquis. But the wine was dulling my thoughts and my senses, and I did not care how much I detested him or the others as long as my goblet was refilled. If they wanted to idolize me and pamper me, let them. As I drank more wine, the noise around me softened and the sights blurred. I barely noticed as the women danced naked around me.

CHAPTER

15

At first I was only going to stay among them long enough to make sure that that young girl was brought back safely to her home, but as the days blended into a week, I soon grew accustomed to being kept blissfully drunk. When the supplies began to dwindle, the Satanists sent out several of their members with their wagon to bring back finer foods and more wine for me. I became content to let them indulge me as they wished. The wine dulled the grief I felt about Henriette, although not so much for Johanna. Nothing seemed to be able to dull the aching hole I felt in my heart for my beloved. But the wine did help in abating the urge that pulled on me. If they wanted to keep filling my goblet and feeding me food, who was I to stop them? Besides, maybe they were right in idolizing me. It was the darkest and unholiest magic that breathed life into my new form, and perhaps I was also under Satan’s spell when I performed my skulking and thieving. Maybe they saw me for what I truly was, even if I hadn’t fully recognized that myself.

Their leader tried to ingratiate himself to me, sidling up to me every chance he had, making one wretched proposal after the next. Mostly I ignored him and drank my wine and ate the food that they brought me. But I detested him nonetheless, as I detested all of them. Whenever I would think of that poor girl who was stripped of her clothing and whom they were going to sacrifice, I would be hit with the impulse to squeeze their skulls into pulp. But those impulses would be fleeting, usually forgotten by the time I finished drinking my next gobletful. Still, though, I took a perverse pleasure in debasing them. After almost two weeks of keeping them naked, their leader worked up the courage to ask me if they could put their robes back on.

“It has become very uncomfortable,” he admitted. “With insects biting our exposed flesh and dirt getting into uncomfortable areas—”

“Not now,” I said, feeling my coarseness rising. “For now I demand that my loyal subjects engage in a copulation contest, the winners of which will receive my blessing.”

I paired them off. There were two more men than there were women, so I paired their leader with a plump man whose skin was the color of boiled ham. I told the plump man that he would be the husband, and the leader—the one with the scrawny neck and bony body—that he would be the wife. Then I ordered them to commence, and they all did with a fervor that was terrible to witness. But I tried not to pay attention to them. For the most part I was able to ignore their grunts and squeals, and instead focused on the wine and on the drunken blissfulness that it provided me.

After an hour their noises showed more pain than pleasure, and I could sense them stealing looks toward me in the hope that this contest would end soon. I laughed inwardly at the wretchedness of this, and told them that I would announce at my choosing when the contest would be finished.

“If I detect any lack of fervor from any of you,” I bellowed, “you will feel my wrath as no man or woman has ever before!”