Andrei had pulled me aside after dinner and told me not to put any weight in his grandmother's words. He told me how her stroke had erased parts of her memory, and how her imagination now filled in the blanks. He said there probably had been a girl, and he believed that something terrible had happened in that house. But he did not believe it was anything supernatural, just one more of the many horrors the Second World War had spawned.
He reminded me that there was no such thing as vampires, werewolves or ghosts. And he insisted there was no such thing as witches either, no matter what I wanted to believe.
But I knew the next morning I'd be returning to the circle of stones, and I didn't plan on coming back until I'd found the witch or her servant. And as I lay back and closed my eyes I imagined a girl with haunting eyes waiting at the edge of the woods, watching, and a dark man beside my wife's bed, waiting and watching her too.
* * *
When I opened my eyes the bedroom was dark. The room was unnaturally cold and, shivering, I turned toward the window to see if it was open.
She was standing there, the girl from the photo, looking as if she'd stepped directly from it and into my room. Standing in the shadows with her black shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a black scarf wound around her face, watching me with the same haunting eyes.
"Who dreams of Matusa Ildiko?" she whispered, and the moonlight shone in her silvery-gray eyes.
I tried to answer but the paralysis of the night before had returned and had me in its grip again. I tried to move and felt hidden hands seize me, pinning me to the bed. And for the first time, I realized I was completely naked.
She stepped from the shadows, letting the moonlight caress her as she approached the bed. I didn't even need to look, but as I tilted my head forward I saw my cock was embarrassingly erect. Her eyes lingered on it and then she shrugged her shoulders and her shawl slipped to the floor.
She was completely nude underneath and the full moon highlighted every curve. I couldn't help watching her as she glided forward, her steps a whisper against the floorboards as she kneeled on the bed and it sighed under her weight.
My gaze slid across the arch of her back and the curve of her breast as she reached out and dragged her fingernail across my pale thigh.
I gasped at the sensation and she turned to stare at me with those haunting eyes, her face still hidden behind the scarf wrapped around her like a shroud. "Who dreams of Matusa Ildiko?" she whispered again.
I tried to force out an answer, but only a strangled moan escaped my lips. She turned her attention back to the hardness between my thighs and, as she brushed her soft fingertips delicately along my length, my back arched uncontrollably in desire, my body aching for her touch.
She glided onto the bed, sensuously sliding her leg across mine as she straddled me. Her hand was between us, caressing me as she watched my eyes. And in the moonlight her pale skin seemed ethereal.
I knew I had to be dreaming, she kept telling me so, but the dream seemed so real. Her scent filled my senses, a mixture of morning dew and wildflowers. And the feel of her soft, silky skin against my thighs as she slowly rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing her velvety mound against me, was like nothing I'd ever dreamed of.
She leaned forward and pressed her breast against my mouth. My tongue, drawn toward it like a magnet, flicked lightly across her nipple. And as I savored the sweet sensation she leaned close and whispered a third time: "Who dreams of Matusa Ildiko?"
I twisted my head away from her breast, fighting to answer her; trying to tell her how desperately I needed to find her mistress.
But I'd been rendered mute and was powerless as she sat up, still straddling me, and reached behind her as she guided me to her opening. Once I was in position, she lowered herself and sighed as we became one.
