The Devil's Daughter

By Clifford Beck

The Carpathian Mountains have long stood as the jewel of Eastern Europe, with their magnificent peaks, steeped in folklore and mystery. But in the village of Gura Haith, something lurks in the night, screaming out in maddening hunger. Now, Nelu, one of the village's most skilled hunters, tries to devise a plan to eliminate what has become a thre

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clifford Beck
• Release date: Jul 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088211663

Book preview

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The Devil's Daughter

The Devils Daughter

Clifford Beck

Cover Design Clifford Beck

Copyright©Clifford Beck2017

For My Brother Randy

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

H. P. Lovecraft

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 1

It was the spring equinox of 1923, and the end of the planting season. It was also a time of great celebration for the people of Gura Haith, as children danced and sang folk songs, while the women of the village prepared the holiday meal. The men, however, were busy making the terraces ready for planting. It was arduous work, but it was far better than starving. In the winter, food was always rationed among the people, and everyone was well cared for. The very young and the very old always came first. The old stood as the bearers of history, while the young carried the responsibility of preserving it, as well as continuing the existence of the village.

The village sat hidden away for centuries in the Eastern Carpathian Mountains of Romania, completely self-sufficient, cut off from the world, save for a few other villages that lay in the distance--uncorrupted by the world, the people of Gura Haith led simple lives. They would never have everything they wanted, but always had what they needed. None would ever attend a university, yet they had learned how to survive, how to react to danger, and how to care for one another. It was what kept the village alive, century after century, and would never change, even in the face of crisis. However, there was one man in the village who represented change, and the influence of the outside world. Four centuries ago, they had been discovered by the church, and in an attempt to reach out for as much wealth as possible, God was sent to Gura Haith in the form of a priest. As one past, another would be sent, thus, maintaining the continuity of divine authority, as well as the acquisition of what meager fortune the village earned. But, in spite of the church's continued influence, the people still held fast to the old ways, myths, legends, and lore – stories of dark things that wandered the Mountains and woods, peering out through the midnight forest, with hunger in their eyes. They hung strings of garlic around their thatch—roofed houses, and watched, with steak and mallet in hand, as the dying past, ready to strike in the event they reached out a lifeless hand to the living. Naturally, this never happened, but it is belief that molds reality, as well as the fear of death.

Chapter 2

That night, as part of the celebration, the children of the village were gathered around a blazing fire as one of the elders told them the story of Vlad Dracula. In Romania, he is held up as a hero, a great prince who, time and time again, led his armies into battle against encroaching Turkish forces. They were told of glorious battles, and Vlad's immense courage in the face of overwhelming odds, only to be struck down by the sword of a Janissary, a knight of the Ottoman Empire. The children were held in rapt attention, as they clung to every word, every gesture and dramatic pause. But, the story came to an end, as the fire began to die, and soon, the children were hurried off by their mothers, and tucked into bed.

Candles were blown out, doors were locked, and the village of Gura Haith had been deemed safe for another night. But, there was one window still illuminated, one person kept awake by a feeling that could not be explained. Sitting at a small table was Ileana, her bible opened in front of her. At the age of 94, she was the oldest person in the village. She knew its history, and folklore, and occasionally saw fit to warn others about the dangers of going into the woods at night. Children seemed to require more sternness than adults. But, because of her age, and thin, haggard appearance, she was seen by a few as being somewhat mad. Yet, for the last few weeks, Ileana had been consumed with something – a feeling, perhaps an instinct. She, however, would call it a premonition. Now, sitting in front of her bible, she studied the book of Revelations, paying particular attention to the coming of the antichrist. Although the feeling she'd been struck with was vague, Ileana had interpreted it as warning. Something dark was on its way, something evil. Perhaps, it was already among them, waiting in the forest, or perhaps, watching from a rocky outcropping, jutting out from a nearby mountain that stood like a majestic sentinel, keeping watch over the village.

There were times when Ileana became overwhelmed with what she came to think of as a message from God, and sought the counsel of the villages' priest. Father James was an especially patient man, and always made time for her, as he would for any of his parishioners. As he listened, he could hear the fear rising in her voice, and took her hand in an attempt to comfort her.

Ileana, he began. God will always comfort you, even when things seemed bleak. You will always have his blessing.

Putting a hand on the top of her head, he offered a prayer for her peace of mind. Yet, in his thoughts, he believed that her age had left her mind clouded with confusion, and unwarranted fear. But, he was not someone given to the idea of miracles, and had come to see the world as a vile place, filled with violence and corruption. He did not believe that God would heal her, or anyone else, and that people were largely left to their own devices. However, what he did believe was that people need both structure and guidance, and above all, people deserve compassion. This was how he exercised his priesthood, pointing the people of Gura Haith down the road of salvation through humility. He followed the rituals, as all Catholics would expect. But, these he saw as meaningless compared to the needs of his flock, and he was, indeed, a good shepherd to the people of Gura Haith.

Chapter 3

A few days had passed, and the village slipped back into its usual pace. Planting would soon come to an end, and while the women tended to their homes, the men organized themselves into hunting parties. Not yet old enough to pick up a rifle, some younger boys were given the responsibility of tending the villages' small flock of sheep. Although Gura Haith lay in the isolation of the Mountains, a small alpine field was close enough that the herd could be safely led there and back. In this manner, there would be a minimal risk of attack by wolves. And even though the boys who led them were not yet old enough to carry a rifle, they did arm themselves with slings, and leather bags of pebbles. With enough practice, they had expert marksmen in their own right. Although the flinging of a stone would not be enough to kill a predator, it was usually sufficient to scare it off.

The holiday was over, and one day seemed to grind into the next. Such was the routine in the village of Gura Haith, and everyone had a job to do. Those children who were old enough gathered water from the stream, or sticks for the fires. The girls helped with cooking, cleaning, and looking after the younger children. Not only were they given responsibilities, but were also learning how to manage the families they would someday have. Even Father James spent a great deal of time tending to the terraced gardens, and chopping fire wood. He was not a man unaccustomed to work, and was not only glad to help, but felt it was his obligation as a member of the community. It was this that earned him the respect of all the villagers.

But, as much as Father James had been made a part of the village and its people, they still held onto the old ways. One day, he stood as witness to what their folklore demanded of them. An unmarried woman had taken ill, and over time, she became pale and gaunt. Soon after, she began coughing up blood, and it was determined by the elders that she had been attacked by a vampire. Although she bore no marks, it was deemed that she be closely watched in the event of anything unearthly. She passed several days later. A deep grave was impossible due to the heavy rock that lay beneath the shallow soil.

A traditional six-sided coffin was built, and the woman's body gently placed within it. Nailed shut, the coffin was lowered into the ground, and as was one of his responsibilities, Father James performed the service with the usual blessing, and sprinkles of holy water. With those grieving around the woman's grave, he began the short walk back to the church, when he was startled by the sound of crackling wood. Those in attendance had opened the coffin, and in accordance with old traditions, conducted their own ceremony. Positioning a long, sharpened pole over the woman's chest, one of the elders hammered it through her heart, and pounding further, pierced the floor of the casket, effectively pinning her body to the earth. This, they believed, would keep her from rising as a vampire, ensuring the safety of the village. The body lurched slightly as the pole entered it, while the smell of decomposing fluids, gas and fecal matter overtook the small crowd of mourners, as it purged beneath the force of repeated hammering.

As many times as Father James had witnessed this horrific ritual, he was always overcome by the sight of such barbarism. Perhaps, it was the fluids running out of the mouth, or the corpses' soft belching of gases that made him turn away. Or maybe, it was the expression of anger and vengeance on the faces of those gathered around the grave, committing, what Father James considered a crime against the dead. But, the word of God could not stop what had become so deeply ingrained, through centuries of folklore and fear. Some in the village were truly faithful people, yet everyone attended services, hoping that God would protect them from all things dark, and sinister, providing them with the hope they so desperately needed.

Chapter 4

Alina was a small, fair-haired child who, only a few months earlier, was carried into Gura Haith, after being found in the Mountains by the villages' hunters. Her blonde ringlets had been matted down by dirt and rain. Hurrying towards the men, the women quickly took her, and began nursing back to health. They put her in a clean bed, tended to her wounds, and nourished her with food and water. But, even before fully recovering, the villagers began noticing something odd about her. Alina would not speak. The elder women had determined that she could hear, reaching this conclusion by startling her from behind. Taking pity on her, they came to believe that whatever it was she had experienced obviously left her mute, leaving her past as an unsolvable riddle. However, she was quickly adopted by the village, and taken in by a young, childless couple, who, under the circumstances, believed her presence to be a gift from God. Unable to have children, her new parents, Anca and Nelu, gave her the name 'Alina'. They had always wanted a girl, and in the unlikely event of a pregnancy, they had collected a list of names. 'Alina' was near the top.

They watched as Alina continued to grow stronger, and tried repeatedly to get her to speak. But unsurprisingly, she would not utter a sound. Yet, it was by this time that she began to find her way around the village. It didn't seem so much the place she was exploring, but the people. She studied them closely, seemingly memorizing everything she saw – the way they wore their clothes, their gestures, and how long it took for them to notice her. Some, seeing the intensity in her eyes, fell back on old superstitions for an explanation, suspicious that she could be some demon, invading their peaceful lives. After all, any stranger recovered from the cold Carpathian Mountains, likely harbored a seed of evil. The fact that this stranger was a small girl who had, somehow, survived through frigid nights, hungry wolves and starvation, gave the fearful a deep suspicion that something dark had entered the quiet solitude of their village.

As is demanded by the church, Alina's new parents took her to be baptized. The elder women created a magnificent white dress for the occasion, and in their clothes, Anca and Nelu stood before God, in front of the church's crude baptismal font. But, as Father James sprinkled the top of her head with holy water, he noticed something about her eyes. At first, he discounted it as an expression of childlike wonder. Yet, as he closed the ceremony with a final blessing, he was, again, struck by a peculiar look in her eyes. He felt them burning into his soul, causing his mind to drift away, leaving him a victim of something he would not understand, until it was too late. However, just before pulling himself back to the moment, the voice of the small girl invaded his faculties. He would never forget those words, or their tone.

If your God truly lives, you will worship Him from the grave.

Her mouth never moved, yet the