Read Online Rogue Angel 53: Bathed in Blood by Alex Archer - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Archer
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was never convicted and was walled up inside her bedroom at the request of her own family, but that was beside the point, apparently. Annja just clenched her teeth and nodded, seeing no need to correct her companion.
“She lived for four years—four years, can you imagine that!—before they found her dead on her bedroom floor.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Annja said. “But that’s nothing new. Most people who know anything about Elizabeth Báthory’s history know that.”
“Yes, but what they don’t know is that Báthory wrote a message in blood on her bedroom wall before she died.”
Uh-huh, Annja thought. Aloud she said, “And that would be...?”
The girl’s eyes gleamed.
“I’ll be back,”
she said, in what was quite possibly the worst Austrian accent Annja had ever heard.
As Annja sat there, staring at her without expression, Brigitta burst into laughter. “I had you! I totally had you!”
Annja wasn’t amused. “Right. Well, it was good meeting you, but now I’ve...”
“Wait! Wait!” the girl said between giggles, reaching out and grabbing Annja’s arm to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I’ll tell you the real story. Honest.”
Grudgingly Annja let herself be persuaded. Something about the girl called to her, and she had learned to trust such instincts since possessing the sword. There was information to be learned here; she was certain of it.
“I wasn’t kidding. The countess did write on the wall of her bedroom before dying. She used candle wax to do it, though, not blood. They even found the candle in her hand.”
“I see.” Annja eyed her skeptically.
“No, seriously,” Brigitta protested. “The family tried to cover it up but word leaked out. Some say it was through the countess’s lover, though how anyone could love a woman like that, I don’t know.”
Growing tired of all the chitchat, Annja said, “Can you please get to the point?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. The countess wrote
amikor vissza
on the wall above her bed.”
“Which means?”
“
When I return.
How creepy is that? Maybe she’s come back. Maybe it was the countess that killed those girls after all.”
Annja was about to thank her for her time and get the heck out of there when the word Brigitta had used hit her like a shovel over the head.
Girls.
Plural.
Annja settled back into her seat and stared at the teenager sitting across from her.
“What girls?” she asked.
7
The phone rang seven times before it was answered. That wasn’t a good sign; it meant she’d considered not even taking his call. She only did that when she was annoyed with him, and her annoyance would make the news he’d called to deliver that much more dangerous. He was going to have to be careful.
When she finally answered the phone, all she said was, “Yes?”
“We may have a problem.”
“I pay you to handle the problems. Why are you bothering me?” she asked.
“This one’s a little different.”
“I’m listening.”
“Something went wrong with the latest disposal. The subject was recovered by two women and brought to the hospital in Nové Mesto. The police were notified.”
There was a pause and then, “And?”
“The subject was neutralized as per our usual containment plan. Arrangements have been made and the investigation will take its usual course.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“One of the women who recovered the subject is an American media personality. The host of a popular television show.”
“Who is she?”
He checked his notes. “Her name is Annja Creed. She’s the host of a program called
Chasing History’s Monsters
.”
There was a chuckle from the other end of the line. “How interesting. Was she alone with the...subject?”
“For a brief time, yes.”
There was another pause, a much longer one this time.
“Did they speak?”
He sighed quietly. “It’s hard to say. I don’t believe the subject was able to do so, but I could be
“She lived for four years—four years, can you imagine that!—before they found her dead on her bedroom floor.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Annja said. “But that’s nothing new. Most people who know anything about Elizabeth Báthory’s history know that.”
“Yes, but what they don’t know is that Báthory wrote a message in blood on her bedroom wall before she died.”
Uh-huh, Annja thought. Aloud she said, “And that would be...?”
The girl’s eyes gleamed.
“I’ll be back,”
she said, in what was quite possibly the worst Austrian accent Annja had ever heard.
As Annja sat there, staring at her without expression, Brigitta burst into laughter. “I had you! I totally had you!”
Annja wasn’t amused. “Right. Well, it was good meeting you, but now I’ve...”
“Wait! Wait!” the girl said between giggles, reaching out and grabbing Annja’s arm to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I’ll tell you the real story. Honest.”
Grudgingly Annja let herself be persuaded. Something about the girl called to her, and she had learned to trust such instincts since possessing the sword. There was information to be learned here; she was certain of it.
“I wasn’t kidding. The countess did write on the wall of her bedroom before dying. She used candle wax to do it, though, not blood. They even found the candle in her hand.”
“I see.” Annja eyed her skeptically.
“No, seriously,” Brigitta protested. “The family tried to cover it up but word leaked out. Some say it was through the countess’s lover, though how anyone could love a woman like that, I don’t know.”
Growing tired of all the chitchat, Annja said, “Can you please get to the point?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. The countess wrote
amikor vissza
on the wall above her bed.”
“Which means?”
“
When I return.
How creepy is that? Maybe she’s come back. Maybe it was the countess that killed those girls after all.”
Annja was about to thank her for her time and get the heck out of there when the word Brigitta had used hit her like a shovel over the head.
Girls.
Plural.
Annja settled back into her seat and stared at the teenager sitting across from her.
“What girls?” she asked.
7
The phone rang seven times before it was answered. That wasn’t a good sign; it meant she’d considered not even taking his call. She only did that when she was annoyed with him, and her annoyance would make the news he’d called to deliver that much more dangerous. He was going to have to be careful.
When she finally answered the phone, all she said was, “Yes?”
“We may have a problem.”
“I pay you to handle the problems. Why are you bothering me?” she asked.
“This one’s a little different.”
“I’m listening.”
“Something went wrong with the latest disposal. The subject was recovered by two women and brought to the hospital in Nové Mesto. The police were notified.”
There was a pause and then, “And?”
“The subject was neutralized as per our usual containment plan. Arrangements have been made and the investigation will take its usual course.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“One of the women who recovered the subject is an American media personality. The host of a popular television show.”
“Who is she?”
He checked his notes. “Her name is Annja Creed. She’s the host of a program called
Chasing History’s Monsters
.”
There was a chuckle from the other end of the line. “How interesting. Was she alone with the...subject?”
“For a brief time, yes.”
There was another pause, a much longer one this time.
“Did they speak?”
He sighed quietly. “It’s hard to say. I don’t believe the subject was able to do so, but I could be
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