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where one eye was always fixed on the vulnerable back of the man ahead of you, and the other eye ever watchful over your shoulder at the man behind you,
A thing—an animal, a disease, a natural disaster—could kill, but it could not murder.
“Something is murdering my men.”
Another night was coming. Another of their number would die.
A rotten soldier, but no doubt an exemplary SS man.
Let them learn to believe in the unbelievable.
Truth can shrink and fancy can grow much in five centuries.”
It can happen in a matter of a few years.
The horror had begun.
One night. Just one deathless night.
This will continue until either the murders stop or we run out of villagers.”
Facetiousness was his only defense against a world coming under the control of madmen,
One was De Vermis Mysteriis by Ludwig Prinn; the other, Cultes des Goules by Comte d’Erlette.
Something was moving about in that darkness. Stalking. Something unclean and hungry.
“I am the Viscount Radu Molasar. This region of Wallachia was once mine.”
Just a cross. If nothing else, a symbol of man’s inhumanity to man.
I am beyond your experience.”
“Nothing is free. Ever.”
…muddied boots and shredded fingers…
Dear God, if you are my God, don’t desert me!
“My name isn’t Glenn—it’s Glaeken. I’m as old as Rasalom. I built the keep.”
Knowledge of any kind—especially of evil—must be preserved.”
