Dark King Rising

by Alledria Hurt

  The note would jog her memory in the morning when she came back to her writing. She had yet to describe the castle itself. She had only seen the inside of it, not the outside. Perhaps it betrayed a beautiful facade that belied the darkness hidden within. Again came the prickle of gooseflesh along her arms though she was now warm and very safe. With slow hands, she rubbed it away through the robe.

  Overcome with the urge to sleep, she yawned and stretched. Then she made her way to the bedroom where she laid down in the robe. She would only take a moment before she would get up and put her pajamas on. As she closed her eyes, the edges of a dream curled around her senses dragging her deeper in.

  They ran through the beginning rain toward the pavilion in Sycamore Park. The pavilion sat alone and empty in the center of a stand of trees, none of them sycamores. Its red cap stood out against the deep gray clouds pouring in from the horizon. Kevin was two steps ahead of her and holding her hand as they ran. The true beginnings of the storm with its driving rain came only seconds after they found shelter. Marie stood staring out into the sheets of rain. Kevin stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  "Guess the rain came a little faster than I thought."

  "You should know better than to try and predict the weather. The only thing it will do is what it wants," Marie said. She turned in his arms and gave him a peck on the cheek. "At least we're not stuck out in it without an umbrella."

  "True, there's at least some shelter here." He kissed her forehead and then her mouth. "I love you."

  "I love you too."

  They stayed in each other’s arms for a few more moments, enjoying the warmth. Then Kevin drew away. "Marie, I have something to ask you."

  "What?"

  That was when he produced the box. Marie had never questioned the bit of magic which brought it from his pocket to his hand without her seeing. He opened it and bent to one knee.

  "Will you marry me?"

  The front door shook in its place as someone slammed on it. Marie jumped and scuttled toward the front. The frantic knocking came again before she could reach it. She snatched the door open.

  Detective Placard stood on the other side looking as if he had run to her house without a car.

  "Mrs. Ellis," he said.

  "Detective." Marie uncoiled her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. "What can I do for you?"

  "You can tell me where I can find your husband."

  "He isn't here."

  "Do you know where he is?"

  "No. He left while I was at work."

  "Have you had any contact with him tonight?"

  "No."

  His quick questions clawed at her nervousness. It was dark out and suddenly there was a detective there asking about Kevin.

  "I need to find him as soon as possible. Do you have any idea where he might go?"

  "He might be at a friend’s or at a bar or doing a show. I don't know; I don't keep track." She had intentionally made herself stop keeping track of him because she wanted him to feel trusted.

  "Think, Mrs. Ellis. Marie. I need to find him."

  "Why?"

  For a moment, she could see where Detective Placard fought telling her what she wanted to hear. Then he deflated. "Marie, I'm afraid he might have done something terrible."

  "I'm sorry I can't help you, but I will have him contact you if he comes in."

  The night air seeped in through the open door.

  He regained his composure and brought a card out of his pocket.

  "Have him call me as soon as he gets in."

  Then he left and Marie stood there looking at the shut door. Kevin was in trouble. Was there anything she could do?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Still wrapped in her bathrobe, Marie stood in her kitchen. She refilled her wine glass for a third time as she looked at her phone. Kevin's cell had gone straight voicemail, which wouldn't have been unusual if he was performing. There was no way he could answer his phone during a performance. Yet when Marie called the Trubeau, they said he hadn't been in to pick up any of his equipment. How was he doing a show if he hadn't picked up even the cards he normally used? She hung up and pressed the phone to her forehead. The detective's words had rattled her. He feared Kevin had done something terrible. What did he mean? Of course, he hadn't said, but that didn't keep Marie from thinking the worst. She pulled the robe tighter around herself and sipped her wine.

  "Kevin, where are you?"

  If he wasn't working, maybe he was with Ray. Marie called their mutual friend and got no answer from his cell. She turned around and called Naomie who did pick up.

  "Moll?"

  "Naomie, have you seen Kevin?"

  "I would have thought he'd be home with you," her friend said. Marie could hear Naomie talking to someone else, probably Ray. "Ray says he talked to him before lunch but hasn't heard from him since then."

  Marie did the math in her head. That was at least nine hours where he was out of touch. Nine hours in which he could have done something horrible which involved the police. Marie felt her stomach seize and release in one violent lurch. Wherever he was, he had to be fine. The detective worried over nothing. Part of her willed Kevin to come through the door, even if he were reeking of booze. Anything to explain the absence.

  "Marie, is something wrong?" She had heard the question the first time Naomie asked, but didn't answer. In truth, she didn't know. She suspected and that only because a detective doesn't make a house call at night without a good reason. It was the second time she steeled herself to say something.

  "I think Kevin might be in trouble. A detective came looking for him."

  "The same one who came about Sylvia?"

  "Yes."

  Silence on the other end of the line. Marie pressed the phone to her ear harder, straining to hear something in the emptiness. Naomie's breath was all she could identify.

  "Do you want me to come over?" Naomie's question caught her by surprise.

  "No, I'm fine, really. I just want to find him before the police do."

  "Maybe you should just go to bed. He'll be in before morning, I don't doubt."

  "I've got at least one more call to make, then I'll consider it."

  "Are you sure you don't want me or me and Ray to come over and sit with you?"

  "Naomie, I'm fine. A little shaken, but fine. I'll be okay by myself."

  "If you say so." Naomie wouldn't press the issue. She was kind in that way.

  "I'll talk to you soon," Marie said. Then she hung up. There was one more call she could make and she needed to have her wits about her when she did it. She abandoned her wine glass on the counter and moved to the living room to sit down. She had the number memorized mostly from years of avoiding it. Now she needed to know if they knew.

  Marie dialed Kevin's parents with her stomach knotted under her ribs. Two then three rings and someone picked up.

  "Ellis residence."

  "Good evening, Mrs. Ellis."

  Frosty silence greeted her.

  "Marie. Why are you calling?"

  "Have you heard from Kevin?" Quiet invaded after the question. If she didn't know better, Marie would have thought they were preparing a way to lie to her about his whereabouts.

  "No, we have not heard from our son." Patricia Ellis clicked her teeth as if to punctuate her sentence. "Am I to understand that you do not know where he is?"

  "I don't know where he is and I'm hoping to find him before the police do." She was giving away too much, but her in-laws made her jumpy.

  "And why would the police be involved?"

  "I'm not sure. A detective showed up looking for him this evening. I just want to find him first."

  "I'm sorry, but we can't help you."

  Jonathan Ellis, Kevin's father, would most likely have chosen not to answer the phone rather than speak with his daughter-in-law. He did not approve. Had not approved. Refused to approve. Marie didn't hate them, but she found them tiresome. Their son loved her. If only they would gi
ve her a chance, maybe they could love her too, but they refused to give it any time.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Ellis."

  "Good night, Marie."

  There was an actual click on the other end of the line as Mrs. Ellis hung up. The cramp in her stomach refused to let go and now she curled up on the couch with her head on her knees. Wherever he was, he was fine. The need to believe that collapsed her thoughts into a single tunnel. Marie slowly unfolded herself and went back into the kitchen. Then the cramp in her stomach let loose only for her chest to tighten like a vise. Her heart thunked against her ribs like wood. Leaning against the counter, she forced herself to breathe. Numb fingers closed around the wine glass and with one motion, she flung it into the wall. It shattered. Wine and glass hit the floor in erratic patterns. She slid down the front of the counter to the floor all too aware of the fearful tears welling up in her eyes.

  "Kevin," she sobbed. "Where are you?"

  She dragged herself to bed not long after that leaving the mess where it was. When the front door slammed open in the early morning hours, her sleep was deep, but not deep enough. Marie bolted upright at the sound, nearly on her feet before the echo stopped. Kevin, his clothes looking and smelling as if he had run a marathon with a pack of smokers and then slept in them, came babbling down the hallway. Going to him, Marie wrapped her arms around him. He reacted by staring down at her and saying,

  "It was so dark there."

  "Dark where?"

  "I need light." Then he moved. In the kitchen, he turned on the overhead light before going into the bathroom and turning on the lights there. Marie watched him as he moved through the house turning on every light he could reach.

  "Kevin?" When he didn't respond, she gently took hold of his hand and arrested his movement. "Kevin, where have you been?"

  "Locked in the box. I spent the night there in the cold."

  It made no sense. Once the lights were on, he moved back into the living room and sat down. There was a strong smear down the front of his white shirt. It looked like blood. Marie reached out to touch his hair and stopped when he shuddered away.

  "Kevin." He looked at her with white round eyes. "Detective Placard was here looking for you."

  That got no response. Her husband simply continued to watch her with the eyes of someone startled. Fear resettled in her chest threatening her breath. She reached out to touch his face and he sat through it like a child being pricked with a needle, screwing his eyes shut.

  "What happened to you?"

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Marie tore herself from Kevin's side and found herself once again in the kitchen. Her robe was wrinkled from being slept in, but when she thrust her hands in the pockets, she came upon the detective's card. Detective Placard's visit still sat on her thoughts like an overfed bird on a shaky limb. Drawing the card out, she inspected it. There was a number she assumed would send her call directly to his desk. It was Saturday morning. Would he be anywhere near that phone to answer it?

  Something shuffled in the other room and she started guiltily. Kevin needed her help. Calling the cops on him wasn't helping, was it? She didn't know. If the smear was blood, where had it come from? Why did she automatically wonder whose it was? The thought that he might have hurt someone frightened her, but his answers did nothing to make her feel more comfortable. What box had he spent the night in? How had he escaped? What was going on? She turned the card between her fingers.

  What if he had hurt someone? Kevin wouldn't hurt anyone.

  She put the card down on the counter and walked back into the bedroom. Shedding the robe, she moved to select clothes for the day. It was Saturday, she didn't have anything pressing. Just maybe some writing at the Bazaar. That could wait until she had sorted this out. On bare feet, she headed back into the living room pulling a t-shirt over her shoulders. Kevin still sat where she had left him, his feet splayed as if he were going to sleep right there. His head lolled to one side and his eyes were half-shut. Marie reached out to touch him and he stirred.

  "Kevin, tell me again where you were?"

  "I spent the night trapped in the box. I don't know where it was. Or how I got there. I don't know anything. Everything was so close. It might as well have been my coffin." His words tripped out and tumbled over each other so that she had to listen close to make some sense of it. There was the discussion of the box again. He had told her about the break in at the Trubeau, but that the box was stolen. Certainly he hadn't been kidnapped by the thieves? Absurd certainly, but with things the way they were, possible.

  "You need to change." She fought the urge to strip him where he stood. He needed to be out of that shirt. She could wash it and the blood would come out. When she reached out to take his hand, he didn't recoil. She took his wrist and pulled him to standing. "Come on, let's get you into some fresh clothes."

  Her clothes from the night before were still on the floor of the bathroom when she led him in. "Get into the shower."

  He sat down on the toilet to undo his shoes. Marie started the shower before walking out and shutting the door. She could hear him in there moving around over the white noise of the shower running. As he did, she went back into the kitchen and picked up the Detective's card again. Was she going to call him?

  In her mind's eye, she saw the streak of blood across the front of Kevin's shirt. It was someone's, she knew it. The question was whose? It didn't belong to Kevin; he didn't appear injured at all. From the bathroom, she heard him start to sing. It was a low throaty sound that barely skirted over the top of the shower noise. From the kitchen, she went into the bedroom and picked up her phone. Kevin would be out of the shower soon. If she was going to make the call, she had to do it before he got out. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to make herself do it.

  Marie dialed the number from the card and let it ring. Two rings in, someone picked up.

  "Detective."

  "Mrs. Ellis," he said. "Did he come home?"

  "Yes." The sense of betrayal was strong. Yet she had already done it. There was no taking it back. "He's in the shower and will probably be asleep by the time you get here."

  "That's fine. Get him to wear as much white as you can."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm going to have to arrest him."

  Her stomach dropped like a thousand pound weight. If it had been a box, it would have spilled its contents all over the ground.

  She almost asked why again, but she didn't need to know why. Now she needed to put together some kind of defense for him. Even as she thought it, she realized she was going to be calling her in-laws again. They had to help their son. They wouldn't turn their back on him in his hour of need, would they? Even if they hated her, they had to still love him enough not to want him in prison. Of course, there was also the fact of their reputation taking a hit if he was found guilty. Her head twirled with the possibilities.

  "Did you understand me, Mrs. Ellis?"

  "Say again."

  "Get him to dress in as few colors as possible, mostly white if you can manage it, and keep him quiet until I get there. I don't want him to possibly hurt you."

  "Kevin would never hurt me."

  "I would love to believe that, ma'am, but there's no telling what he will do if he finds out he's in trouble. Don't mention anything to him until I get there. I'll be bringing a few other officers with me."

  Marie nodded though he couldn't see it.

  "I'll do that, detective."

  "Thank you. You've done a good thing by calling me."

  If she listened hard, she could hear the sound of Kevin singing to himself in the shower but only barely. Would those be the last happy sounds she heard from her husband? Maybe.

  "I hope so," she finally said before hanging up. Her chest was tight and her breathing thick. She might as well have been sucking in smoke.

  Kevin got out of the shower a few minutes later and wandered in wearing nothing and toweling his hair. He yawned at the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed and
then threw himself down beside her.

  "I love you," he said.

  "I love you too." She wrapped herself around him ignoring the residual dampness on his skin. Words stuck in her throat. Admittances of what she had done. Nothing came out. She buried her face in his neck. He laid there against her and his eyes closed. A minute later, he snored lightly. Letting him go, she pulled up a blanket to cover him with. He would just have to get dressed when the cops showed up, she didn't want to disturb him now.

  Fast rapping on the door thirty minutes later brought her back to herself where she sat on the edge of the chair in the living room. She answered the door with mechanical movements. Detective Placard stood outside with three other officers with him.

  "Where is he?"

  "In the bedroom."

  "Stay here," he commanded. Marie moved to the left of the door and let it hide her as the detective moved further into the house with one of the officers in tow. The other two shifted to cover the front door.

  "Who are you?" she heard Kevin's voice raise with surprise.

  "Kevin Ellis, you are under arrest. I'll give you a few moments to get dressed."

  Marie wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she tried not to hear Kevin telling them he didn't understand what was going on.

  She was still there beside the door curled hard into herself when her husband was marched out in handcuffs. They caught eyes and she looked away when she saw the reproach there.

  "Do you happen to have the clothes he wore yesterday?"

  "They're in the bathroom on the floor."

  "Officer, go pick those up."

  Someone produced a brown paper bag from somewhere and the officer with it went into the bathroom to gather the evidence.

  "Thank you, once again, Mrs. Ellis. It is very important that he's kept from hurting anyone else."

  "Who did he hurt?" Marie's question came out strangled. Kevin couldn't have hurt anyone. It simply wasn't possible.

  "A woman by the name of Rebecca Hallowman. I believe you're familiar with her."

  The vise grip around her chest tightened another notch. Rebecca. She had seen her the night before. How could this have happened? He would never have hurt her. But she couldn't deny the blood stain on his shirt or the strangeness of his return.