Develyn's Tale

by Shannon Bailey

  Emily knew Develyn was only saying what he thought she wanted to hear. What was supposed to be some kind of comfort to her, but it made her feel even more ashamed and physically ill. Fighting back nausea, she hugged herself and sobbed brokenly, “I, I’m so sorry, Develyn. For, for everything.”

  Shocked, his eyes snapped open and he spun around to face her. She didn’t need to be Marked for him to read her mind. The pity on her face was plain to see and it infuriated him. He would rather have Emily’s hate. He needed it. He had to have it in order to walk away and finish what he started.

  Storming up to her, he reached out and pulled her to her feet. “Do not feel sorry for me,” he rasped as he stared down into her beautiful tear-filled eyes. “Save your tears for one who has the slightest chance at redemption, but do,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close against him, “give a kiss to one who is surely damned.”

  Develyn lowered his head and as his mouth hovered over hers, he whispered, “Just one, my dear, before I go.”

  Softly, he pressed his cool lips against her trembling ones. Not in a demanding way, just gently. Sweetly. Reveling in the momentary intimate contact, as himself, for the first and last time with the woman he loved.

  Before Emily had a chance to react, before he would have to see the look of revulsion that was surely on her face now, Develyn released her. And with a hastily whispered, “Good-bye, Emily.” He was gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Death Comes Calling

  As Develyn crossed the porch, he pulled on his coat. With a final glance back at her door, he started down the stairs.

  The storm had moved on and it was only sprinkling lightly now. He had taken a few steps down the walk that was blanketed with wet leaves brought down by the heavy rain, before he felt a presence and smelled their scent. He recognized it as someone from the Order. His hackles rose and he stopped dead in his tracks.

  At the end of the walk he saw a man materialize from the dark. He was tall, taller than him by a few inches and wider by a few more. He had short cropped black hair, full black eyebrows, a thin black mustache and a short pointed black beard. He wore a long black cape fastened together at the collar by a large silver button.

  “Vhere is she, Develyn?” the man demanded in a deep voice that was as commanding as his appearance.

  Slowly and deliberately, Develyn pulled the cross-handled dagger from inside his coat pocket. Clenching it tightly in his fist, he turned his body sideways, taking a defensive stance. “Your very presence here, sir, at her home tells me you already know damn well where Emily is.”

  As if he were not at all intimidated by Develyn’s bravado, the man’s eyebrows rose haughtily. “Do forgive me,” he began, his Russian accent becoming more pronounced as he spoke, “for not making myself clear. I am not referring to the voman inside. I seek Countess Valaree Von Vahran.”

  Fear, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since David’s Turning, squeezed his still barely-beating heart painfully and twisted his guts. The man’s words evoked unpleasant thoughts that involved Emily and little David being hurt, killed, or worse, being Turned. His shoulders hunched defensively and every muscle in his body tensed. “Make your self and your intentions known, sir!” Develyn growled at the man.

  The man opened his cape with great flourish, revealing its white silk lining and what he wore beneath it. He was dressed in a manner from a time long past in black tight fitting breeches, tall black Hessian boots, a stark white shirt and an emerald and silver brocade vest. Lifting the silver handled walking stick in his hand, he saluted him and replied, “I am Count Konrad Von Vahran and I demand to know the vhereabouts of my vife!”

  Develyn felt the last of his breath leave his body. Count Konrad?! No one had seen or heard of him in over 200 years! How the hell did he know what he had done to Valaree? No one of the Order knew what he had been up to for the past year. For if they had, someone would have surely tried to stop him before now.

  The Count squared his shoulders and answered the questions running through Develyn’s mind, testily. “Since you have put her into a deep sleep, her mind has been freed and she calls to me. She does not know vhere she is, but she knows who is responsible for putting her there. And that is you, Develyn Blackwell, is it not?”

  With a disdainful snort, Develyn taunted him. “That’s right,” he began with a curt nod of his head. “And you want to know where she is? Well, sir, your wife, that evil bitch,” he began spitting contemptuously on the ground, “is deep in a grave. Waiting for me to dig her up and plunge this dagger,” he said, waggling it at him, “hilt-deep into her cold black heart.”

  From behind him, Develyn heard “Jesus, Joseph and Mary!” and he muttered a curse of his own.

  Obviously Robbie, the old busy body, had heard their raised voices and came to investigate. His unexpected presence was just enough of a distraction that Develyn couldn’t react fast enough to the count’s attack.

  Within a blink of an eye, Count Konrad was standing in front of him. His pale face was an indiscernible mask. His piercing green eyes bore into his. The tip of the hidden rapier from his walking stick piercing into the flesh directly over his heart. “Drop your veapon,” he ordered and when it clattered to the sidewalk, he coldly murmured, “Make no mistake, you vill die here tonight, Develyn Blackwell, but no von else must. Or,” he said, his left eyebrow arching haughtily, “am I to assume your desire for vengeance far outveighs your love for your voman and son?”

  Develyn’s life, the series of tragedies it really was, flashed through his mind and he was not at all surprised that death had come for him at that moment or in the manner in which it had. It was his fate and he accepted it, but was his to face alone. He would not to allow Emily and David, or even Robbie, to be claimed as well.

  Calmly, Count Konrad pressed the tip further into his flesh and Develyn grunted in pain. “Tell me vhere Valaree is or I vill kill the old man there, Turn your voman and take your son for my own.”

  The count’s words struck terror in him and Develyn had no other option than what presented itself. He pressed forward, sinking the blade in a little further. With a grimace, he rasped, “Give me your word, Count Konrad, here and now, that you will not harm them. Any one of them. Ever. Or I shall end my existence myself without telling you a damn thing and your wife, will spend eternity growing mad right where she lies.”

  Hostility and confusion flickered in the Count’s eyes and his upper lip twitched, but he calmly replied, “All right. You have it. Provided you tell me the truth, no harm vill come to them. Ever.”

  Develyn nodded his consent and without breaking eye contact with the count, he roared over his shoulder. “Get back inside, Robbie! And don’t open the door. No matter what you hear.”

  **************

  Robert went back inside as Develyn ordered and slammed the door. Locking it, he leaned wearily against it as his mind and heart raced at what he had overheard.

  Count Konrad Von Wahran here?! Develyn kid-napped Valaree Von Wahran?! Planned to kill her?! But what about the others in the Order?! What about poor Benny?! If he and the others of the Order ever found out what Develyn was planning, Emily and David would be in serious danger! They would stop at nothing to prevent Valaree’s destruction. If she died. They all died. Jesus, Joseph and Mary was right! He had to warn Emily!

  Shoving himself away from the door, Robert hurried down the hall. As he neared David’s room, his left arm went numb. His vision went black and he staggered. Slamming up against the wall, he slid slowly down it.

  Still shaken by Develyn’s tale and even more so by the kiss he had given her, Emily had fled to her son’s room to hold him close and gather her wits. When she heard a loud thump from the hallway, she laid him back in his crib and hurried out of the room where she found Robert slumped against the wall. His eyes were closed. His face coated with sweat. His mouth hung open and she could see his lower lip was blue. Heart attack.

  “Robert!” s
he cried, rushing to him. “Oh, God Robert! You’re having a heart attack. I have to get you an aspirin and call for an ambulance. Just, just stay calm. I’ll be right back,” she assured him frantically.

  His eyes fluttered open. “No, gurl, just listen to me,” he whispered weakly. “Count Conrad’s outside. Don’t let ‘em in. Develyn kid-napped Valaree and he’s going to kill her, but no one must know. You’re not safe if any one of the Order finds out. David’s not safe. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell Benny.”

  Assuming Robert was disoriented from the lack of oxygen and just rambling, Emily’s nodded. “Okay, okay, I won’t tell anyone, not even Benny,” she promised absently before she ran off to call 911.

  When Emily returned with the aspirin, she found Robert laying motionless on the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Was It a Dream?

  Emily awoke to the sound of her own voice crying out. With a gasp, she sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she looked around the living room in the weak morning light. She listened to see if she had awakened David with her scream, but the only sound she heard was her own labored breathing.

  Her breasts ached. They were swollen and full and figuring David would be up and wanting his feeding soon anyway, she threw back the red chenille blanket and swung her legs to the floor. With a yawn, she stood and jammed her feet into her slippers. Fixing her robe, she shuffled down the hallway past Robert’s room to David’s. When she opened the door, her eyes bulged and she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  David was gone!

  Everything was gone! His crib! The changing table. The dresser! Her mother’s rocking chair! Everything was gone! A tall box stood in one corner and an old rolled up rug in another. The walls were yellow and the floor was bare hardwood, just as it was before she turned it into David’s nursery.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Her vision blurred and then blackened momentarily and she gripped the door knob to keep from crumpling to the floor. What was happening?! Dear God, what was happening?! her mind cried.

  After a moment, panic began to take over the shock. She ran to Robert’s room and found it as it was before it became his bedroom, her work station was set up in the middle of the floor.

  With a frightened whimper, she ran to her bedroom. Reaching her hand between the two mattresses, she frantically felt around for her journal, but it was gone too. As were the photos of David and the baby photo of their son, little David, from her bedside table.

  The faint tones of Fur Elise came from the living room and she ran out of the room and down the hall. She grabbed her purse from the coffee table and flipped it upside down, dumping everything out.

  With trepidation, she picked up the phone. Across the bottom of the lit screen it read Fri, Nov 9 2007 4:27PM.

  Friday, November 9 2007?! 4:27PM?!

  Looking up, the light outside, the slant and hues of a rising sun changed to those of a setting sun right before her eyes. The photos of both Davids disappeared from book shelves across the room and as did both on the fireplace mantel beside her. Her hackles rose as her blood turned to ice in her veins.

  Friday, November 9 of 2007!

  That was the night she went to be with David. November 9, 2007! That was the one night they spent together. That night they conceived little David. The night before she and Develyn had killed David. The night before David had died. A year before Robert died . . . Jesus, Joseph and Mary! It was a dream! It was all, except for little David’s birth, just a horrible, vivid nightmare.

  Dropping to the sofa in utter disbelief, she looked at her phone in fear and amazement. With trembling fingers, she flipped it open and with shaky hands raised it to her ear. “Hello?” she whimpered breathlessly into it.

  “Emily?” came her mother’s voice. “Emily, is that you?” she demanded anxiously.

  “Mom?” she replied numbly.

  “Yes! Emily, what’s wrong?” she said, her voice sharpening with concern.

  “N, nothing,” she rasped into it.

  “Well, it doesn’t sound like nothing,” her mother countered suspiciously. “What’s going on with you? I’ve been calling you all day and when you didn’t answer your cell phone, I tried you at work. But they said you went home early. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since that silly Halloween party last week. Did you take something while you were there? Is that why you’ve been acting so strangely? Did you take some sort of drug,” she asked, her voice switching into her emergency operator tone.

  Emily blinked at last. And then blinked again. “No, I didn’t take anything at the party,” she said, the haze of confusion dissipating. “Geez, Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Well, you don’t sound it. Are you sure? I’m coming over there.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she repeated, gaining control by the second. “And no, don’t bother coming over.”

  “And why not?” her mother asked, clearly offended.

  “‘Cause I won’t be here. I, I have a date tonight.”

  “A date?” she asked, her voice sounding surprised, encouraged, curious and dubious all at once. “With whom?”

  “You don’t know him. He’s a guy I met at that silly party last week. His name is David Blackwell.”

  **************

  Emily jumped into the shower and after the shock of discovering her breasts had shrunk to their pre-pregnancy size wore off, she hurried through it. She dressed quickly in the same black dress she had chosen in her dream as well as the same boots, coat, scarf and gloves. And just like in her dream, she drove like a madwoman all the way to Chicago.

  It had just begun to snow as she came to a screeching halt in front of David’s house. Slamming the car into park, she jumped out and ran up to the gates, stopping dead in her tracks at what she found.

  The gates were open wide.

  David was standing there waiting for her.

  Just like in her dream, he wore a long black crushed velvet robe over his clothes and the snow had only begun to collect along his shoulders and in his black hair.

  Emily stood in silence staring at him, her breaths coming out in puffs of mist as large flakes of snow lightly showered down on them. Her knees began to tremble and she shivered. She was afraid. Afraid that she was dreaming again and if she moved or spoke, David would disappear, just like his photos had.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wet her dry lips and with breath held, stuttered, “W, was that all just a dream?”

  As if in slow motion, David began to move. She saw his hands clench, his brow furrow and his head shake. “No, my dear, it was not a dream.”

  But that didn’t make any sense! her mind screeched. How could all of that not have been a dream? Unless . . . she was dreaming now . . . this was the dream . . . Her breath came rushing out in a broken sob. Tears pooled in her eyes as her face crumpled.“Is–this–just–a-dream–then? Are–you–really–not here, David?”

  He took a step toward and shook his head again. “No, this is not a dream either.”

  Emily squeezed her eyes shut and tears spilled from them. “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “What is this then? What’s happening to me?”

  “Do forgive me, my dear, I was remiss. I should have explained this to you that night you came to me. You see, when Naturals are Marked, they experience all types of side effects. Some see only the past, recent and the far distant and some see only into the future. But you, Emily, my dear, you are special. You’re an Extra Sensitive. You can see both the past and the future and you experience everything far more acutely than other Marked Naturals. What you saw, what you lived through was . . . the future. One version of it, anyway. One, I will do everything in my power not to let come to pass.”

  Emily’s eyes snapped open and when they met David’s, she knew nothing could keep them apart any longer. Sobbing, she flew to him and flung herself into his open arms.

  Afte
r all Emily had been through, his death and her grief and guilt over it, the birth and loss of their son, Robert’s death, David knew she deserved a good cry and he tightened his hold of her. “We have a second chance, my dear. We shall start over. We will be married. We will have our son again and we will live, laugh and love for many years in this new life. I promise, my dear, my love, I promise,” he whispered as she sobbed against his shoulder.

  After a few a moments, Emily’s tears stopped and her body stilled. She felt all cried out. It seems all she had done over the last year was cry, but that was over now. Like David said, they had a second chance. Their future didn’t have to end up like it had. He promised to make sure it wouldn’t. He promised many years of living, laughing and loving together and by God, that’s what she wanted! Starting now. Starting right now!

  Emily’s breathing became labored and heartbeat began to pound against his chest. Her body heat rose and her woman’s scent, rushing with hormones, filled his nostrils. Setting her away from him gently, David stared down into her beautiful upturned face. Her pupils were dilated and large clouds of mist came from between her parted swollen red lips. He didn’t need to read her thoughts, to know what she was thinking.

  She wanted him. As badly as he wanted her.

  As Emily stared up into his face, mesmerized by the strange pale beauty of it, she was again amazed that no breath came from between his sculpted lips.

  Lips she so desperately wanted to kiss.

  Unwinding scarf from around her neck, she unbuttoned and opened the collar of the coat, shivering as the cold air blasted her exposed flesh.