Victoria opened her eyes and saw the perfectly flat surface of the marble floor. Every part of her body ached and even her hair hurt. She struggled to come to terms with the mechanics of that concept.

Despite being in pain, she managed to peel herself from the floor. In that moment, every single muscle in her body screamed out in agony. Funny that when faced with a great deal of pain, concerns over her hair no longer mattered.

“Where am I?” Victoria asked.

Memories of her recent escape bled back into her conscious mind. With that came the realisation that she was still at the chapel of horrors.

“Oh fuck me!” Victoria whined in desperation.

With a bit more effort, Victoria managed to gain a solid footing. Her feet were unsure of themselves, which left her wobbling, but she persisted until her balance steadied.

The first few steps were daunting, nonetheless she grew more confident. It was enough to grant her some freedom of movement, and look for an exit.

Despite the atrocities depicted in the stained glass works commemorating sin and murder in frightening detail, this place was quite beautifully designed: marble walls, supported by Corinthian columns, all adorned with gold. This chapel had a decidedly Art Deco style, one that seemed more authentic than current facsimiles.

Her eyes ran over every visible surface, and yet, she was no further ahead in finding an exit. Once she shifted her footing, her eyes caught a glimpse of a landmark behind one of the columns. Victoria strained her neck to spot golden doors, and approached carefully. It seemed appropriate to assume there were traps.

“Come on Vicky,” Victoria said to calm herself. “Don’t let your imagination get the better of you.”

There was a golden button located at the side of the door and she gasped when she got a better view. The door was meticulously engraved in solid gold; a relief depicting a scene from Dante’s Inferno gleamed in the artificial light.

She pressed the button, half-expecting a trap door to drop out from beneath her. Instead, a pleasant chime rang throughout the chapel, as the doors parted.

Without hesitation, she stepped inside, then searched for a control panel only to find there was none. Either this elevator was programmed based on the identity of the passenger, or there was only one stop.

“Only one way to—,” Victoria said.

Her knees nearly gave out when it began its high speed ascent. In a panic, Victoria grabbed onto a golden rail with enough strength, that her knuckles were white.

There were no dials nor displays visible in the elevator car. It appeared that she was just expected to enjoy the ride. In her current state, this experience was anything but pleasant leaving her to wonder how long this moment would last. The answer came when the elevator came to a complete stop. Once the doors opened, Victoria was faced with a change of scenery.

Had Victoria’s mind not been on the verge of exhaustion, she would have been enraptured by the beauty of it all. She knew of the existence of abandoned subway stations underneath the city, those left behind when new lines came into service or once stations no longer served a purpose.

Never in her life did she expect to be standing in one, let alone one so beautifully maintained. Every tile was in place and the grout was an immaculate white, a miracle since the floor tiles had to see some foot traffic from time to time.

As Victoria stepped away, the elevator’s doors slid shut. Dead ahead, there was a subway car of modern design, which lit up when she approached. Just her luck, the doors were open.

Now she was curious because this all seemed to be far too convenient. Victoria walked up to the platform’s edge, looked down the line at both ends, and saw nothing suspicious. The steel tracks shone in the station’s light and from the looks of this car, this was operational line, although clarity on serviceability of the line at its destination and where that happened to be was a different matter.

She turned around to look for clues. Victoria remembered that most stations had a map to direct visitors. Then again, elevators also had panels to indicate what the elevator was up to.

“This is getting tedious,” Victoria said with an exasperated sigh.

Unable to come up with another option, Victoria stepped through the open door of the car. This was her first time being in a subway car fitted with leather seats or one lined with mahogany and brass.

“Not exactly what you’d find on the blue line,” Victoria remarked. “So what now?”

As her question rang out into the train, the door closed behind her, and the car lunged forward. Victoria reached for one of the seats and sat down. It should not have been a surprise that this contraption was also automated.

Out back, a series of lights appeared, a fresh car activated to replace this one. Victoria watched in awe, barely able to imagine the expenses associated with running such a system. As the train moved on, the somniferous clickety-clack of the tracks embraced her mind. Soon, Victoria was sound asleep. Meanwhile, back at the station, a slick trail of blood led directly to the platform’s edge.

Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!

Victoria’s eyes fluttered open, but felt there was resistance with every motion. Her senses were numbed, as though she were under constant pressure. For a moment, her mind conjured the image of being cocooned in bundles of warm and thick blankets. While the thought was nice, she quickly dismissed the idea as being far too hopeful.

“If only life were that simple,” Victoria thought.

Her mind quickly focused on the complete absence of light, which corrupted that thought until she imagined herself being buried alive. Victoria wondered if that explained the humidity clinging to her skin, but that analogy did not align either. Her experience was more akin to being immersed.

“Hello?” Victoria tried to ask, but no sound came out.

Victoria sat up as fast as she could, and learned how this viscous liquid also hindered her rate of motion. Since there was nothing to see, she swept her arms all around, but came up empty. Although, she did find out that the floor had the consistency of sand, but wondered how that tidbit of information would prove useful.

“Why are my lungs not burning?” Victoria thought.

That idea opened a crack in her mind, enough for a panic to seep in, she hyperventilated which in turn filled her lungs with more fluid. Wait! What? How? Her mind struggled to come to terms with this new reality. Whatever the gravity of her situation, breathing was no longer a concern for her, or at least for now.

With renewed conviction, she got onto her knees and confirmed there was clearance before standing upright. When another search came up empty, she ventured up ahead.

Eventually, she encountered a flat surface, so her hands ran over the rough texture, to find gaps between the quarried stones. Victoria followed the surface, and realised this wall formed a circle, one filled with something thicker than water. It did not take much after that to hazard a guess. So that meant she was at the bottom of that well?

If that’s where she was, then that scene with Evelyn had been nothing more than a dream. Either way, that insight did nothing to explain her predicament.

“Unless—,” Victoria attempted to say once again, but to no avail.

The viscosity of the fluid made it impossible for her vocal cords to resonate. Hence the silence, which left her to wonder what would happen to her if she remained down here in absolute solitude.

To confirm her whereabouts, Victoria looked up. Sure enough, there was a faint source of light, and from this vantage point, it looked like a single red star lighting up the dim sky. Again, how would this help her get out of this mess.

“How long—How do I—Can I climb—” Victoria’s chaotic mind wondered.

Such questions were cycling through her mind so fast, that it prevented her from focusing on a single task. Once again panic took hold, and invaded every corner of her being, until it consumed her.

Victoria screamed, her noiseless act of defiance somehow created a protective barrier that kept the conflicting voices in her mind at bay. As she let out all of that frustration, fear and doubt melted away, until all that remained, was raw untapped determination.

She poked and prodded the walls of her cell, and found the spaces were wide enough to get a good grip. It may not have been enough to climb a steep cliff, but when supported by a liquid that imbued her with some additional buoyancy, the conditions for an ascent were suddenly favourable.

Her first attempt caused her fingers to radiate in pain. Victoria had forgotten how her failed attempt to arrest that descent had torn off her fingernails.

It was ultimately that maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that permitted her pain to return, which in turn caused her to tumble down. The slow descent into the soft sand may have left her no worse for wear, but in her mind, the pain brought on was on par with running into a wall. With a silent grunt she got off her rump and attempted another ascent.

With every attempt, the damage to her fingers grew worse, until it blinded all other stimulus. The pain served to focus her, to drive her, but she was also motivated by fear of losing her sanity, if she stayed down here for long. How could anyone keep it together, when under the exclusive company of their thoughts?

Writers were normally content to be left alone. Free to find inspiration in mundane occurrences, like a sunrise, moments that the bulk of humanity took for granted. But to remain alone in the dark, summarily deprived of the bulk of her senses? There were limits to creativity, times when the wellspring of inspiration would run dry, and left behind a world bereft of ideas.

Condemned to suffer like that for all of eternity, Victoria could think of only one word that fit, “Hell.”

After countless attempts and hours wasted, Victoria’s hand pierced the pool’s surface. The cool air made her skin tingle, the first positive sensation she experienced since her awakening.

Excitement welled inside her, and that grew in intensity once she dragged her tired body out from the pool. While there were no mirrors in this perverted chapel, Victoria imagined herself looking very much like Carrie did during her graduation ceremony.

It took all of her strength to lift her remaining leg from out of the pool. Victoria had the strangest feeling that the pool was holding her. So much so, that she needed to expend what was left of her sheer force of will to tear herself from it.

“Well—,” Victoria tried to say, but only managed to spew out fluid from her lungs.

Victoria got on her hands and knees just in time to convulse. Every muscle in her core contracted and relaxed at a fantastical rate. With every wave, a stream of fluid was evacuated until she was able to take her first deep breath.

She looked up towards the stunning fresco that covered the ceiling as tears streamed down her cheeks from all that pain and exertion. For a second, she saw a crescent moon overlooking the crucified body of Christ. Her mind, instead focused on the stale humid air filled with death instead, despite the poor air quality, the pleasure of breathing air once more was nothing short of rapturous.

Alas, with her first deep breath came a coughing fit, all in an effort to clear out any remaining pockets of fluid. These coughs were so violent, that her vision was marred by streaks, and every fit sapped her strength until she was no longer able to move.

In tears, and beyond the point of exhaustion her body gave up. Before her vision blurred, and faded to black, she caught sight of a passage etched at the edges of the ceiling.

“Fides dominaretur super oram chlamydis Saul,” Victoria whispered.

The words meant nothing to her, but once unconscious, her lips moved to the following phrase, “Faith shall dominate the usurper.”

Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!

“All done!” Victoria exclaimed

She ripped the page from the drum of her antique typewriter, and placed it neatly upon the fresh stack. Her muse was back, and this new material would keep her creative juices flowing for the foreseeable future.

Victoria leaned back, and heard the familiar creak from the chair. She looked into the fire as it crackled happily while its flames danced, and left her momentarily entranced. Victoria thought about the hours spent looking at the beauty of those flames and found it hard to imagine how all of that was about to change.

A lot of things had changed in short order, with more to deal with in the upcoming years. This time there was a guide; someone to lead her, and Victoria hoped their relationship would grow like it had for Evelyn and Marc. It was her wish that she would not only call Evelyn a friend, but consider her to be a sister, albeit a deceptively older one.

A smile appeared on her face, once she heard a knock at the door. She excitedly, jumped over the corpse of the building’s doorman to answer it. How unfortunate that he needed to be dealt with in such a manner. Unfortunately, he had been far too inquisitive about her return, and his bothersome insistence on calling the authorities only sealed his fate.

At least he was delicious, and still remembered the ecstasy experienced from draining the life from him. The essence of his life now flowed through her veins, it invigorated her, but that now came with the faint smell of his decomposing corpse. When she opened the door, Evelyn greeted her and kissed Victoria tenderly.

“You have been naughty, non?” Evelyn asked with a giggle, and licked the last of his blood from Victoria’s lips.

Victoria blushed, but Evelyn said nothing more on this matter. One’s first kill was a personal matter, as were the emotional and psychological repercussions. That had been the way for Evelyn, and that would be the same for any of Victoria’s progeny. Corpses did pose a problem, but there were ways to make people disappear. One did not live long in this day and age without having a few tricks up their sleeve.

Victoria turned her attention to the fire before noticing that Evelyn was different somehow. There was something about her attire, which was better suited to a formal New Year’s ball. Her suspicions were confirmed when Evelyn slipped her hand into a bag, and pulled a beautiful porcelain mask. At first, she imagined this mask to represent some wild beast, just like those described in her writings. Instead, it turned out to be the perfect porcelain reproduction of Evelyn’s face.

“Sometimes the truth is far more monstrous than fiction ma chère,” Evelyn said.

To that, Victoria agreed. Predators did not hide their true intentions, their motives were plainly governed by their genetics. While a growl and teeth could elicit primal fear, people were in far greater danger when such traits were hidden by the thin veneer of civility.

“Now come!” Evelyn shouted, while she glided over the uniformed corpse. “We have to introduce you to the family, and I assure you that their masks will not be as obvious as mine.”

With a smile, her mentor walked into the hallway and left Victoria to clean up before following suit. On her way out, Victoria left the fire a well-deserved gift for being her kindest critic, and biggest fan. She was certain the flames would happily consume this final token of her appreciation. Just as she closed the door, never to return, the flames spread over the cover page and left only the line The Portrait visible.

In the hallway, she heard Evelyn say in those musical tones, “In case you are wondering. Marc will be the one wearing a mask representing a dire wolf… Though he will be doing so grudgingly!”

All the while, Victoria thought back to what she wrote long ago, and said, “Remember, what lies underneath, is by far more frightening.”

Disclaimer: This chapter is currently in development. There are likely typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth. Please do not treat this as a polished and completed work!