Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes


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Into the mausoleum, however, he could not make his way.


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He could by looking through the keyhole j ust descry that there were fine marble effigies and sarcophagi of copper, and a wealth of armorial ornament, which made him very anxious to spend some time in investigation. The papers he had come to examine at the manor-house proved to be of just the kind he wanted for his book. The first De Ia Gardie appeared in them as a strong and capable man.

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Shortly after the building of the mansion there had been a period of distress in the district, and the peasants had risen and attacked several chateaux and done some damage. The owner of Raback took a leading part in suppressing the trouble, and there was reference to executions of ring-leaders and severe punishments inflicted with no sparing hand.

The portrait of this Magnus de Ia Gardie was one of the best in the house, and Mr. Wraxall studied it with no little interest after his day's work. He gives no detailed description of it, but I gather that the face impressed him rather by its power than by its beauty or goodness; in fact, he writes that Count Magnus was an almost phenomenally ugly man.

On this day Mr. Wraxall took his supper with the family, and walked back in the late but still bright evening. He evidently has access to it himself, for I saw him tonight standing on the steps, and, as I thought, locking or unlocking the door. He found that the Count was decidedly not a favorite. If his tenants came late to their work on the days which they owed to him as Lord of the Manor, they were set on the wooden horse.

You will naturally inquire, as Mr. The landlord was evidently unwilling to give a full answer, or indeed any answer, on the point, and, being called out for a moment, trotted out with obvious alacrity, only putting his head in at the door a few minutes afterwards to say that he was called away to Skara, and should not be back till evening.

So Mr. The papers on which he was j ust then engaged soon put his thoughts into another channel, for he had to occupy himself with glancing over the correspondence between Sophia Albertina in Stockholm and her married cousin Ulrica Leonora at Raback in the years 1 The letters were of exceptional interest from the light they threw upon the culture of that period in Sweden, as anyone can testify who has read the full edition of them in the publications of the Swedish Historical Manuscripts Commission. In the afternoon he had done with these, and after returning the boxes in which they were kept to their places on the shelf, he proceeded, very naturally, to take down some of the volumes nearest to them, in order to determine which of them had best be his principal subject of investigation next day.

The shelf he had hit upon was occupied mostly by a collection of account-books in the writing of the first Count Magnus.

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But one among them was not an account-book, but a book of alchemical and other tracts in another sixteenth-century hand. Not being very familiar with alchemical literature, Mr. Wraxall spends much space which he might have spared in setting out the names and beginnings of the various treatises: The book of the Phoenix, book of the Thirty Words, book of the Toad, book of Miriam, Turba philosophorum, and so forth; and then he announces with a good deal of circumstance his delight at finding, on a leaf originally left blank near the middle of the book, some writing of Count Magnus himself headed "Liber nigrae peregrinationis.

This is the English of what was written: "If any man desires to obtain a long life, if he would obtain a faithful messenger and see the blood of his enemies, it is necessary that he should first go into the city of Chorazin, and there salute the prince. Wraxall felt pretty sure that he was right in reading it as aeris "of the air".

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But there was no more of the text copied, only a line in Latin: Quaere reliqua hujus materiei inter secretiora. See the rest of this matter among the more private things. It could not be denied that this threw a rather lurid light upon the tastes and beliefs of the Count; but to Mr. Wraxall, separated from him by nearly three centuries, the thought that he might have added to his general forcefulness alchemy, and to alchemy something like magic, only made him a more picturesque figure, and when, after a rather prolonged contemplation of his picture in the hall, Mr.

He had no eyes for his surroundings, no perception of the evening scents of the woods or the evening light on the lake; and when all of a sudden he pulled up short, he was astonished to find himself already at the gate of the churchyard, and within a few minutes of his dinner.


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  6. His eyes fell on the mausoleum. I should dearly like to see you. Certainly, and perhaps fortunately in this case, there was neither voice nor any that regarded: only the woman who, I suppose, was cleaning up the church, dropped some metallic object on the floor, whose clang startled me. Count Magnus, I think, sleeps sound enough. Wraxall say that he wished to see the clerk or deacon as he would be called in Sweden of the parish, introduced him to that official in the inn parlor. A visit to the De Ia Gardie tomb-house was soon arranged for the next day, and a little general conversation ensued.

    Wraxall, remembering that one function of Scandinavian deacons is to teach candidates for Confirmation, thought he would refresh his own memory on a Biblical point. Wraxall; "it is, I suppose, quite a ruin now? Wraxall put in. The landlord was now alone, and at Mr.

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    Wraxall's mercy; and that inquirer was not inclined to spare him. You may as well tell me what you know.

    What did the Count bring back with him? I am not sure; but Mr. Then he came close up to his guest, and with a go o d deal of effort he spoke: "Mr. Wraxall, I can tell you this one little tale, and no more-not any more. You must not ask anything when I have done. In my grandfather's time-that is, ninety-two years ago-there were two men who said: 'The Count is dead; we do not care for him. We will go tonight and have a free hunt in his wood'-the long wood on the hill that you have seen behind Raback. Well, those that heard them say this, they said: 'No, do not go; we are sure you will meet with persons walking who should not be walking.

    They should be resting, not walking. There were no forest-men to keep the wood, because no one wished to live there. The family were not here at the house. These men could do what they wished. My grandfather was sitting here in this room. It was the summer, and a light night. With the window open, he could see out to the wood, and hear. At first they hear nothing at all; then they hear someone-you know how far away it is-they hear someone scream, j ust as if the most inside part of his soul was twisted out of him.

    All of them in the room caught hold of each other, and they sat so for three-quarters of an hour.

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    Then they hear someone else, only about three hundred ells off. They hear him laugh out loud: it was not one of those two men that laughed, and, indeed, they have all of them said that it was not any man at all. After that they hear a great door shut. They said to him: " 'Father, put on your gown and your ruff, and come to bury these men, Anders Bjornsen and Hans Thorbjorn. So they went to the wood-my grandfather never forgot this. He said they were all like so many dead men themselves. The priest, too, he was in a white fear. He said when they came to him: " 'I heard one cry in the night, and I heard one laugh afterwards.

    If I cannot forget that, I shall not be able to sleep again. Hans Thorbjorn was standing with h i s back against a tree, and all the time he was pushing with his hands-pushing something away from him which was not there. So he was not dead. And they led him away, and took him to the house a t Nykjoping, and he died before the winter; but he went on pushing with his hands. Also Anders Bjornsen was there; but he was dead. And I tell you this about Anders Bjornsen, that he was once a beautiful man, but now his face was not there, because the flesh of it was sucked away off the bones.


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    You understand that? My grandfather did not forget that. And they laid him on the bier which they brought, and they put a cloth over his head, and the priest walked before; and they began to sing the psalm for the dead as well as they could.

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    So, as they were singing the end of the first verse, one fell down, who was carrying the head of the bier, and the others looked back, and they saw that the cloth had fallen off, and the eyes of Anders Bjornsen were looking up, because there was nothing to close over them. And this they could not bear. Therefore the priest laid the cloth upon him, and sent for a spade, and they buried him in that place. Wraxall records that the deacon called for h i m soon after his breakfast, and took him to the church and mausoleum. The building, when he entered it, he found not unimposing.

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    The monuments, mostly large erections of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, were dignified if luxuriant, and the epitaphs and heraldry were copious. The central space of the domed room was occupied by three copper sarcophagi, covered with finely-engraved ornament. Two of them had, as is commonly the case in Denmark and Sweden, a large metal crucifix on the lid.

    The third, that of Count Magnus, as it appeared, had, instead of that, a full-length effigy engraved upon it, and round the edge were several bands of similar ornament representing various scenes.

    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes
    Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes Last Caress - An erotic short story with MF vampire themes

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