Shannon Bailey - [Blackwell 01]

by Forever David's (lit)

  Flushing even warmer with embarrassment, I sat back down and flipped my hair back over each shoulder. My hands were shaking so badly, I clasped them together so he wouldn’t notice. And with a steadying breath, I bravely met his eyes, and said, “All right, I’m ready when you are.”

  Turning his handsome face, which had grown alarmingly ashen in the fading light, toward the fire, David looked up at the portrait and began.

  “Develyn and I were born to Edgar and Evelyn Blackwell in Devon County, England, on February 17, 1872.”

  My gasp drew his attention. “That really is you and your family in the portrait, isn’t it,” I exclaimed, gaping at it and back at him. “I thought it might be, but I wasn’t sure. It just seemed so-”

  “Incredible? Unbelievable? Impossible?” he suggested.

  “D. All the above,” I replied numbly.

  With another smile almost cracking his serious countenance, he looked back up at it and continued, “My family and I sat for that portrait in the winter of 1878. Develyn and I had just turned six and our sister, Camille, was just eleven years old . . .

  “The following year, our father traveled here to America to search out his own fortune, independent from his family. It was a successful trip and we had received father’s letter full of good tidings and promises of a bright future just three weeks prior to receiving word that he was lost at sea. The ship, in which he was returning to England on, had gone down in a storm.

  “A year after that, my mother also died. Friends and family members tried to romanticize her death, declaring she died of a broken heart over her lost husband, but I believe it was a cancer. She had wasted away to nothing . . .”

  I wasn’t sure what to say or if I should say anything. Yes, it was a loss of his parents, but it had happened more than a hundred years before and I wasn’t sure if he still grieved over them. But ultimately, I figured the death of one’s parents would hurt even if a person lived to be a thousand and I muttered, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  David’s brow quirked as if surprised by my sentiment. “Thank you. It was a long time ago, but I do miss them on occasion,” he said, and with a clearing of his throat, he hurried on.

  “After our mother was laid to rest, we three children were sent to live in London with our father’s oldest brother, Harold, his wife, Gemma and cousin Madeline.

  “Although we were fed and clothed properly, we were never allowed to forget we were just a family obligation. An imposition on their life.

  “For five years, we children remained on our best behavior. Did our best to stay clear of their way, but the day came when Camille could no longer be overlooked or ignored.

  “Camille had grown into quite a beautiful young woman of grace and intelligence. And because of it, she was banished to life in the country, lest she outshine Cousin Madeline and garner more attention. Hence, more admirers and a better marriage contract. However, what was meant to be a sentence worse than death for a young woman in those days, turned out to be an incredible blessing for Camille. For in the country is where she met and married the man who was her one true love.

  “Now Sir William Brentwood was a good man. He was independently wealthy and a bit of a recluse, but he was completely devoted to her. Their union produced a half a dozen children and they lived quietly and happily together for more than fifty-seven years. Their great grandson resides on their land to this day.”

  I watched his face soften as he spoke about Camille and for the first time since I met him, he looked almost serene.

  But in a flash it was gone as he continued. “By week’s end, Develyn and I were sent away to the King’s School in Ely, Cambridgeshire.

  “We lived and attended the King’s School for eight years. While I was a studious pupil, anxious to learn, Develyn struggled through every subject. I preferred and excelled at all athletics while he preferred the dramatic arts and excelled at pursuing the fairer sex and other vices.

  “Once we graduated, he and I moved to London together. I began clerking at the prestigious law firm of Hill and Gamble and he pursued an actor’s life.

  “My progress was slow, but typical for my chosen profession while Develyn signed on, almost immediately, with a troupe who performed on a regular basis at the Lyceum Theatre of London. He even shared the stage with Sir Henry Irving a time or two,” he said, almost sounding proud.

  “Well, it wasn’t long until Develyn fell in love with an understudy named Clarissa LeBon. Now Clarissa was attractive. Not leading-lady beautiful, but quite pretty with long dark hair, pale flawless skin and big brown eyes. She was, what we in those days, referred to as a slip-of-a-woman, standing at just five feet tall and very slender.

  “Their courtship was brief and passionate and they were married in less than six months. At first, they appeared to be very much in love, but it soon changed, seemingly overnight.

  “Develyn had become cold and aloof toward her, even cruel at times in my company, so I could only imagine how he treated the poor girl in private.

  “The last time I saw them together, she was in tears and he was livid. I had no idea why, and since it wasn’t my place to intervene, I left them alone to work through whatever crises had darkened the dawn of their marriage.”

  Stopping abruptly, he rose to his feet and went to stand before the fire. The room had grown dark and he was now just a black silhouette against the orange light of the flickering flames.

  Using the fire poker, he maneuvered the logs around for a better burn. Returning the poker to the stand, he turned and faced me, saying, “I’m sorry. I sometimes forget my eyesight is very different from yours, shall I turn a light on for you?”

  I really didn’t mind talking in the dark. In fact, it provided a certain degree of anonymity that made me bolder than I may have been otherwise and assured him I was fine and to proceed.

  “As you wish,” he said, crossing back to the sofa.

  After he took his seat, he began again. “After Develyn hadn’t shown up for our standing luncheon date the next day, I knew something was dreadfully wrong. I went to their home and what I discovered there, haunts me to this day.”

  Now I’ll admit, when David said that, I almost called it quits right then and there. I couldn’t imagine what could have been so horrible that it had traumatized a vampire and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But, I held my tongue and let him continue.

  “When I opened the front door, an overwhelming putrescent smell of blood and other foulness washed over me and I nearly emptied my stomach there on the stoop. However, I rushed inside and since it was as silent as a tomb, I did not bother calling out.

  “On the one side of the house, I found the parlor in regular order, but on the other, the kitchen was in bloody shambles. Literally. Blood was everywhere. Sprayed on the walls and cabinets. Splattered across the table and overturned chairs. In pools on the floor that were littered with broken china and staining the water in the hip tub that sat in the center of the room.

  “I noticed drops of blood trailing out of the kitchen and so I followed them up the stairs and to the room they shared. As I stepped through the doorway, I saw them lying together in their bed . . .

  “Clarissa lay dead. Her body wrapped in a bloody sheet, and Develyn was curled up next to her corpse. Now of course at that time, I didn’t know Develyn had been cursed and Turned. I simply thought he had gone mad, and in a fit of homicidal rage, attacked and killed the poor girl . . .

  “I’m not certain what alerted him to my presence, whether it was the sound of a creaking floor board, the pounding of my heart, or the scent of my fear. Whatever it was, he awoke and bolted upright with such an unnatural speed that it wasn’t merely startling, but rather, terrifying.

  “And the way he looked . . . It was frightful. Fiendish. There was blood all over his rumpled clothes and face, which was as white as his dead wife’s. His eyes were black as night and with an animalistic growl, he scrambled off the bed, dragging her lifeless body with him. Like a
wolf carrying off a freshly slain carcass,” he muttered with a grimace.

  David’s words had evoked a grisly mental picture and with a silently cried, ‘Dear God’, I wrapped my arms about myself as a shudder wracked my body.

  “Forgive me,” he said, leaning forward. “I didn’t intend to be so indelicate in my recounting.”

  “What? Oh, no,” I said, leaning forward myself. “You haven’t been. In fact, all things considered, you’ve been remarkably reserved. G-rated, really.”

  Although only half of our faces were illuminated by the firelight, I could see his brow furrowing. “No. I’ve spoken of unnecessary things. Horrors that will undoubtedly haunt you from this night on.”

  It was true. I didn’t think I would ever be able to banish from my mind the image of Develyn dragging his dead wife’s bloody body off their bed, but it was too late now. I had asked to be told the truth. It wasn’t David’s fault that it was so ugly. “But you’ve only done what I’ve asked. What I had wanted you to,” I assured him.

  “Yes. However, I found it to be true that what one wants, is rarely ever what one truly needs.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Curse

  With a hastily murmured apology, David excused himself while I sat there, his words echoing through my mind.

  When he returned, he was carrying a large silver tray that held a silver goblet, a bottle of liquor with a shot glass over the top, plates of purple grapes, a hunk of white cheese, and a small loaf of homemade bread.

  It was a very old fashioned spread of food to offer a guest, but so much better than processed meats and cheeses and salty crackers that people always set out today.

  Placing the tray down on the coffee table, he straightened and looked at me. After a moment, he motioned to it and said, “I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty and brought you something to eat. The whiskey, some of Robert’s finest, is for you, in case you change your mind. For what I have yet to tell you, really isn’t any less horrible than what’s already been said.”

  At hearing that, I nodded appreciatively.

  “Let me just build the fire up and we’ll continue.” I agreed and reached out and grabbed a handful of grapes. Sitting back, I popped them in my mouth one by one, while I watched him work at the fireplace, admiring the wide expanse of his back and shoulders.

  When he was finished, he took the goblet from the tray and sat back down. Crossing his legs, he stretched his right arm along the back of the sofa, rested the goblet on his thigh and began to speak again.

  “Well, I suppose I should continue from where I had left off. . . Let’s see, after Develyn had drug Clarissa’s corpse from the bed, he leapt over it, the entire width of it and pinned me up against the wall. Now, I was certain he was going to kill me too, but actually he was frightened and begged me for my help . . .” he said, turning his face toward the fire.

  When David said that, I almost felt sorry for Develyn. Almost.

  After a few moments of silence, he continued. “Develyn was ranting and raving that there was something terribly wrong with him. That it was all her fault. And I of course, assumed he was, in his madness, referring to Clarissa and blaming her for what he had done. It took some time, but I eventually calmed him down long enough to ascertain what he was truly talking about.”

  Turning back toward me, he said, “Apparently, after their last row, Develyn went out to cool his ire. He went to a pub and was tossing back a few drinks when he happened to notice a particular woman.

  “Now, the very fact that she looked to be a gentle bred lady of means, but was patronizing such a lowly establishment should have been a warning to him. However, it didn’t register and he went ahead and introduced himself and well, I’m sure you can deduce how the story goes from there.”

  David was right. It was an old story and I knew how it went. Develyn had a fight with his wife and went off to a bar to get drunk and pick up a strange woman. Go figure, I thought critically.

  “Her name was Valaree Von Wahran. She was a striking woman. Tall, nearly my height, with long, flaming red hair, a voluptuous figure and classical features. Needless to say, it was easy to see why Develyn had been drawn to her.

  Apparently, Valaree was the younger and prettier daughter of a Prussian Count named Holce Stanovich. Because of her beauty, she attracted the attention of every man who came to court her older sister, Ivannia.

  “After two years Ivannia failed to secure an offer of marriage, so their father, Count Holce, broke with tradition and protocol and allowed Valaree to marry a handsome and wealthy Count named Konrad Von Wahran.

  “Ivannia was completely humiliated and so jealous of Valaree that she secretly poisoned her with arsenic. Of course, Ivannia had meant to kill her, but failed at that as well.

  “Valaree had, however, become gravely ill. She suffered from excruciating pain that left her bedridden during the daylight hours, but relieved and anxious at night that would result in her roaming the castle halls and grounds. Her skin turned ashen and began to crack and her gums receded. She craved animal blood, and their livers in particular, and would become violent when denied them. Needless to say, her beauty and her mind were quickly ravaged by her illness.

  “Now unfortunately, it wouldn’t be realized until a century later, by a Doctor Rupert Geddes, that Valaree had been stricken with the rare disease commonly known as King George’s Disease or–”

  “Porphyria,” I supplied excitedly. “That makes sense. And certainly explains a lot of her symptoms.”

  “Yes, well,” he said, his eyebrows raising sardonically, “as I said, unfortunately for everyone involved, at the time Count Konrad just assumed his wife had gone mad and packed her off to an asylum.

  “She was imprisoned there for a year before she escaped into the woods where she was found and taken in by an old Baltic woman who happened to be a practicing dark witch. It wasn’t long before Valaree began tutelage under the old woman and soon struck a bargain with Satan himself to restore her beauty and all that she had lost.

  “Now, she did regain her beauty, however, when she returned home to her castle in Bartia, she discovered that her dear sister, Ivannia, had effectively seduced and married her husband. And well, as the old saying goes, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; Valaree Von Wahran unleashed an unimaginable fury on Konrad and Ivannia.

  “When she discovered them sleeping together in the very bed she had shared with Konrad not two years before, she attacked them in a violent rage.

  “With a blade, she struck and slashed at them anywhere and everywhere she was able, and in her demented state, she drank their blood and spat it back into their faces as she spoke a curse over them. Overnight, Konrad and Ivannia became like Valaree. They craved blood, hid from the daylight and endured incredible pain. But that was merely retribution for their betrayal. The actual curse she spoke over them was that they could not, lest they send their souls straight to hell, end their tormented existence themselves. Nor could it be done by a stranger. You see, the bitter twist of it was, it had to be done by the one who really loved them . . .” he paused and glanced at the fire and then back to me.

  “As I’m sure you could imagine, Konrad and Ivannia couldn’t accept what they had become and when Konrad did as Ivannia had begged, she burst into flames.

  “Now, after Ivannia’s death, Count Konrad disappeared without a trace and Valaree left Prussia in 1796.

  “She traveled the world, searching out unfaithful married men to seduce and curse. She had been doing that for nearly one hundred years and had perfected her game, if you will, by the time she met Develyn that fateful night . . .

  “After laying poor Clarissa out properly, I put Develyn together as best I could and we took a hansom to Valaree’s hotel.

  “When she opened the door, I distinctly remember thinking she didn’t seem at all surprised to see us. In fact, she invited us in and offered refreshments. It was all very civilized. Much like us, here tonight, except she had no intenti
on of allowing me to leave there untouched.

  “I was enraged and I stormed in, demanding to know what in God’s name she had done to Develyn. Needless to say, Valaree wasn’t the least bit intimidated by me or my wrath. In fact, she was quite unconcerned and most accommodating, telling me everything I wanted to know.

  “She began with the story of her past, the very same I’ve just told you, and then proceeded to tell me, boasting really, exactly what she had done to Develyn and that he was now a part of her Order. The Order of the Unwilling.

  “She explained what his existence would be like from then on and what he would need to do to survive. How to cast an enthrallment. How he should choose Willings and victims. How to Mark those he wanted to protect. Who could be Turned and how to do it. And last, but not least, what would have to happen if he decided he didn’t want to exist as an Unnatural Mortal.

  “Of course, I was shocked and reacted like any sane person would after hearing what I thought was utter nonsense. I wanted to throttle her and I had actually lunged at her, intent on doing exactly that. However, with her supernatural speed, she simply sidestepped me and pulled me into an enthrallment.

  “Once she had me under her control, she sat me down on the sofa and calmly opened the veins in both my wrists with her stryker. . . And when she had done that, it awoke the monster, disguised as my brother, and he . . .” he paused again and looked morosely into his goblet and said, “attacked me. . . Develyn fed ferociously, like a starving animal, from one wrist while she leisurely drank from the other.”

  Feeling the bile rise in my throat, I diverted my eyes before he caught the look of revulsion that was sure to be seen in them.