Lucifer’s Island: A Gothic Horror Soap Opera: Lucifer's Island, #1

By Connie Myres

(Season 1) Troubled Nurse Ruby takes the job as a private duty nurse at Vrolok Manor House on Lucifer's Island, hoping to find her missing brother. Soon she will be living in the mansion, within the outer walls of the defunct monastery, now known as Castle Moldovan. Rumors of satanic worship, vampires and the black-robed monks inside the inner ward, are not enough to keep Ruby from the detective work she has planned.

Has someone, or something, been watching Ruby? Will she eventually find her brother? Is she mysteriously meant to live there? Follow Ruby through this gothic horror soap opera, reminiscent of the Dark Shadows television series from the 1960s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Feather and Fermion Publishing
• Release date: Aug 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781957819099

Connie Myres

CONNIE MYRES, a multi-genre author specializing in horror, mystery, suspense, and science fiction, has been spinning thrilling tales since her childhood in Michigan. From a young age, she captivated her audiences—children she babysat—by weaving them into her suspense-filled narratives, igniting an insatiable love for storytelling. Inspired by the works of literary masters such as Dean Koontz and Stephen King, Connie has crafted her own unique style that keeps readers on the edge of their seats. Her vivid, dynamic stories, filled with intrigue and surprise, mirror her own multi-faceted life. Not only a talented writer, Connie is a registered nurse and a developer, showing her knack for both caring for others and creating immersive digital worlds. In the future, Connie plans to join the digital nomad movement, allowing her love for adventure and new experiences to fuel her compelling narratives further. For now, she continues to captivate and inspire from her home base in Michigan, crafting stories that both engage and terrify her readers. Stay connected with Connie through her website at ConnieMyres.com, where you can explore her wide range of books and short stories, and join her on this incredible storytelling journey.

Book preview

Book Description

(Season 1) Troubled Nurse Ruby takes the job as a private duty nurse at Vrolok Manor House on Lucifer’s Island, hoping to find her missing brother. Soon she will be living in the mansion, within the outer walls of the defunct monastery, now known as Castle Moldovan. Rumors of satanic worship, vampires and the black-robed monks inside the inner ward, are not enough to keep Ruby from the detective work she has planned.

Has someone, or something, been watching Ruby? Will she eventually find her brother? Is she mysteriously meant to live there? Follow Ruby through this gothic horror soap opera, reminiscent of the Dark Shadows television series from the 1960s.

ConnieMyres.com

Lucifer’s Island

A Gothic Horror Soap Opera (Season 1)

Connie Myres

Logo for Feather and Fermion Publishing.

Feather and Fermion Publishing

Copyright © 2016 CONNIE MYRES

Feather and Fermion Publishing

Michigan, USA

https://www.ConnieMyres.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Lucifer’s Island / Connie Myres

ISBN: 978-1-957819-09-9 (e-book)

ISBN:  978-0-9963141-9-0 (paperback)

Dedication

To my family, my friends, and those who have supported me though my journey as an author. I appreciate you.

Contents

Book Description

Dedication

Contents

1 Tick

2 The Document

3 The Watcher

4 Vrolok Manor

5 The Phone Call

6 Dear Diary

7 Moving with Sammy

8 Job Interview

9 Lady Beth & Victor

10 Ferry Ride

11 The Watcher

12 Meet Victor

13 Vrolok Manor House

14 The Tour

15 Meet Lord Andrei

16 Tough

17 Layoff

18 Patty

19 Face to Face

20 Ethel Explains

21 Patty’s Turn

22 The Watcher

23 Villainous

24 Light of Curiosity

25 Sammy Goes to the Island

26 In Passing

27 Monk

28 Priest

29 The Watcher

30 The Bird’s Nasty Work

31 Cauldron

32 Sick

33 Relicvă

34 The Key

35 Patty’s Nose

36 Missing

37 Doubting Saint Thomas

38 Library Lady

39 The Letter

40 The Beginning

41 It Returns

42 Inside the Mouth

43 The Sentence

44 Shackles and Chains

45 To Pink

46 Whodunit?

47 Arrangements

48 The Relic

49 The Watcher

50 A Death

51 Detective Work

52 Into the Hornets Nest

53 Draven and the Warlock

54 The New Lord

55 Lost and Found

56 Get a Clue

57 The Choice

58 Blood

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ALSO BY CONNIE MYRES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

VISIT CONNIE’S WEBSITE

1

Tick

Roberta Ruby Rush paid for a Styrofoam cup full of iced tea and stepped away from the mob standing in line at Sand Hill Café’s checkout counter. Happy to be away from the disruptive kids who kept bumping into her as they grabbed for a squirt gun that the eldest boy had aimed in their direction, she excused herself as she squeezed through the patrons standing in her way. She had been waiting for several annoying minutes to get a drink to quench her thirst on that muggy June day.

Tourists packed the coffee shop and the small harbor town of Black Water, nestled on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. It was opening day for the annual Harborside Jamboree—called Inky Fest by the locals—and as usual, the out-of-towners were loud, apparently suffering from a sugar rush caused by the ingestion of dark chocolate toffee and penuche from the Fudge Shop downtown.

The long June weekend was buzzing with chatter, laughter, and music. Black Water was alive, swollen to its frayed seams with people—like a dog tick that had just sucked its body full of the canine’s blood and was now plump like a small juicy grape. Usually, she loved the fanfare, the concerts, and the food booths that lined the harbor and Inky River. Today, however, the commotion was irritating, and Ruby was ready to crush the blood engorged tick, squishing the parasite until red fluid squirted from its body under the pressure of her sneaker’s sole, until there was nothing left of the small arachnid except a blood-stained smear on the concrete sidewalk.

Sickening, yes, but Ruby had a lot on her mind. Alan, her younger brother, had recently come up missing on Fish Island, also known as Lucifer’s Island. He had told her he had found some disturbing information about the defunct monastic Monastery of the Holy Ghost, now called Castle Moldovan by most people in the community. He said he would call her when he got back, but the phone call never came. That was a month ago. The police were investigating, but as yet they had not found him, either dead or alive.

Adding to Ruby’s misery, was the near certainty that her house would soon fall into foreclosure. Soon she would be without a home. Could it get any worse?

Whack! Ruby had no sooner stepped into the hubbub of the street, on her way to the beach, when a clod, holding a plastic cup of frothy amber beer, bumped into her and knocked the tea right from her hand. It promptly fell to the pavement, spilling its icy contents.

Oh, sorry, he said as he walked away and disappeared into the throng of sweaty bodies all around.

Thanks, Ruby said, shaking her head as her jaw tightened. She looked at the cup and watched the walking feet of the passing crowd kick it across the street in short order.

Why did I even bother to come here?

She sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow as people moved past her. She looked toward the lighthouse and then at the beach where families were swimming and playing Frisbee, trying to decide whether to walk back to her car and go home to the peace and quiet or to get closer to the water where a gentle breeze was blowing, and she could cool down.

I’m already here so I might as well stay, she said to herself as she began stepping in pace with a group of pedestrians making their way to the catwalk and the 1800s pierhead light.

Noticing only a few people further down the beach, toward the nuclear power plant, she exited the sightseers and walked along the water’s edge, with its soft light colored sand, until she found a secluded spot on the berm. She sat on the warm sand, next to clumps of stabilizing Marram Grass, at the base of a dune.

As she looked out over the endless blue water and listened to the gentle lapping waves, her thoughts turned to her brother and what he had said to her before he got on the ferry boat and headed to Lucifer’s Island.

2

The Document

Ruby drove into the parking lot of Trout Line Ferry Company. It was early May, and the peak passenger season was still a couple of weeks off. Most of the residents of Fish Island worked in one of the island’s two towns, Traders Point Village and Maryville.

Thanks for the ride, Sis, Alan said, unfastening his seatbelt.

Ruby frowned. I still don’t understand why the newspaper is sending you to investigate that place. Even the Catholic Church wants nothing to do with it, ever since it converted to devil worshiping over a century ago. Who knows what Castle Moldovan is like now, and you know what people say about it.

Alan chuckled. Yes, I know what people say about the old monastery.

And you’re still going?

He reached down to the leather portfolio sitting at his feet, unzipped it, and took out his laptop. It wasn’t the Black Water Daily Telegram’s idea that I investigate it.

So it was your idea? You’ve got to be kidding.

Alan lifted the cover, typed on the keys, and then pointed at an image on the screen. A yellowed sheet of paper with elaborate handwriting filled the slim monitor. This is a copy of an official Catholic Church document stating the exact reason the monastery on Fish Island would no longer be recognized and needed to be closed immediately.

Ruby looked at the image of the old letter and wrinkled her nose. You can read that old-fashioned cursive?

It’s written in early American Spencerian Script, so it was a challenge. But what I’m interested in is this part right here. He pointed to the second paragraph. It appears to say something about Lucifer, the undead, and . . . He paused as he turned the computer so that Ruby could see the writing clearly.

And what? Don’t leave me in suspense.

He cleared his throat and put a finger under the word he was about to say. It appears to say . . . vampire.

Ruby’s eyes widened. Vampire? You’re insane?

Read it yourself. He shrugged.

Ruby leaned closer to the monitor. It looks like a v─a─m─p─y─r─e . . . vampire?

Alan nodded his head. That’s what I got.

How do you know it’s legit?

Because I found it in the library’s archives. He readjusted the screen to prevent glare. The paper initially wanted me to research the history of Fish Island—or Lucifer’s Island, as everyone around here calls it—because we’re coming up on the bicentennial of Traders Point Lighthouse. While I was going through papers from that time period, I came across this one that was signed by Pope Pius the Ninth and dated eighteen-fifty-nine.

Well, that proves it’s a fake. Wouldn’t it be written in Latin instead of American cursive?

I wondered that, too, so I checked on it. The historian told me that it was possible that this was a copy of the original one that would’ve been written in Latin. Someone wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding when it came to the closing of the Monastery of the Holy Ghost. This letter would have been intended for the average laity. However, I can’t vouch for the authenticity of the Pope’s signature. Nevertheless, it is a fact that the Church demanded the monastery closed, and the religious order of monks disbanded.

Yeah, we all know there’s weird stuff going on in the castle. Are you telling me that the paper said you could investigate vampires instead of the lighthouse history?

Well, no, he said as he closed the computer and stuffed it back into the bag. It’s a kind of side project that they said I could work on, and maybe they’d run it on Halloween.

Okay, baby brother, Ruby said, holding back a laugh. I don’t think there’s any such thing as vampires, but if you want to go monster hunting, be my guest. Just don’t come back here with bite holes in your neck.

3

The Watcher

I am the Watcher and I seeth thou, but thou doth not seeth me. I am eyeless in form and glide through the air. I sitteth high upon the tower where nay one, except the Master knows mine existence.

I senseth thy loneliness and feeleth thy teen. Thy troubleth is mine life blood and gives me pleasure.

I hast been watching thou since before thou were born while thy soul waited for its timeth to blossom on earth. And I will watcheth thou until thy heart beats nay more.

I hast visited thou 'ere, in the dark, when thou knew not that I was thither. I was thither while thou slept, thither while thou wept, and thither while thou sinned. I will always be thither. . . watching. My Master smells thy destiny but wot not its outcome. Anon thou will joineth us or be our nourishment. The choice is yours.

When the timeth is right, I will bewray myself to thou. When thou decideth to follow thy destiny, and joineth us. Until then, I will layeth in waiteth. . . watching. . . My dear one.

4

Vrolok Manor

Dressed in a proper light blue dress, Lady Beth Vrolok walked with her chin lifted high out the side door of the sprawling Vrolok Manor House sitting within the outer walls of the monastery. She was set on speaking with her son Victor who was lounging in the gazebo with a glass of Cognac in hand. With graceful ease, she descended the stone steps that curved gently down the hills pitch until settling at the garden terrace, past the misty spray of the stone water fountain.

Victor, do you have a minute? Lady Beth said as she stepped into the shade of the gazebo, overlooking Castle Bay. Having lived at the manor for several decades—since the tender age of eighteen, when she married Lord Andrei—she still could not get over the breathtaking view from Monks Hill.

Did you need something, Mother? Victor glanced at the old Lady Beth and then sipped his brandy.

Did you contact any nursing agencies about caring for your father? Even though she was in her seventies, she looked more like her son’s sister than the senior years she was.

Indeed I did, he said, with a serious expression. He inhaled the fresh water air as if he were smelling the peach ice cream aroma of Jude the Obscure roses, only now preparing to open its soft apricot colored petals. From our little town of Maryville, down below, to Traders Point Lighthouse at the other end of this small island, I’ve had people searching every one of its thirty miles. Of course, the people in the town below beneath us continue to be intent on spreading rumors about monsters that roam the village streets in the dark of the night. They are so superstitious; no one wants to come near here.

Lady Beth sat on a bench across from her son and looked at the tall curtain walls—close to thirteen feet high—and the towers surrounding the outer ward where the manor sat. Then she turned and looked down the hill, over the curtain wall below, toward the harbor.

She had married into the Romanian Vrolok family, even though she had no blood ties to the people of the inner ward where the gothic cathedral, cloister, and other buildings were that she was forbidden to enter. Her husband, Lord Andrei, was allowed occasional admittance. Even Victor, the last in the New World’s bloodline, was refused to go where the monks lived. It would not be until her husband’s death that Victor would learn the secrets within the monastery’s fortified enclosure.

For now, Lord Andrei was the only one permitted to communicate with the mysterious monks—secretly—but now he was ill and needed nursing care. Currently, he had his right mind, but she feared the time was not far away when he would lose his mental capacity or, heaven forbid, pass on to a better place. If that were to happen, Victor would be required to perform the duties that Lord Andrei never spoke of.

I hate to bring in someone from the mainland, but no one on the island is willing to work here. She looked at Castle Moldovan. To her, it looked more like Mont  Saint Michael in Normandy, than the monastery cathedral it once was.

Who can blame them, Victor said, standing up so that he could get a closer look at a three-masted frigate sailing into the harbor. Looks like the monks are getting another shipment.

They’re not real monks, Lady Beth said, watching men in black hooded robes, far down the face of the hill, moving crates on trolleys to and from the sailing vessel.

Well, not in the Catholic sense of the word, Victor scoffed. But the men do live a solitary life away from mainstream society, getting their needs met by whatever comes and goes on those ships. I’m just pleased that they, at least, share some of the wealth with us . . . The gatekeepers.

Speaking of the monks, Lady Beth said. Has any of Count Moldovan’s representatives been around to talk to your father lately?

I saw a monk in his room earlier today, but as you know, I’m not privy as to what they speak about.

All I can say is that I’m glad they gave us permission to bring in an outsider to care for him. Old Ms. Reinhardt is having difficulty dressing him and helping him to the bathroom while still trying to keep up the cleaning and cooking.

Victor laughed. There’s too many old people in the house. Especially when I’m in my fifties and I’m the youngest. Having a nice-looking young nurse live here would be the shot in the arm this place needs.

"Don’t get any ideas. You know they would prefer you find someone from the old country, not America. Speaking of that, I am surprised they didn’t send for someone from Romania to come out