As odd as it seems, as I was hitting him, I remember thinking that it felt like I was tenderizing a pot roast straight from the refrigerator with my bare fists.
Develyn allowed that to go on for only a moment before he grabbed my arms and forced me to sit back down. I remember looking up at him and asking why? Begging him to tell me why he had made me do it? And I’ll never forget his response.
He raised his hand as if to comb it through his hair, but instead he pulled his hair off and tossed the wig into the fire and coldly replied, “Because every story has a villain, Emily. I just happened to be cast that role a long time ago.”
And with that, he walked out of the room and I never saw him again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My Journey
Now, I don’t know how long I sat there in a catatonic state, but when my eyes were able to focus again and my hearing returned, I could see the once raging fire had burned down to cinders and I could hear Robert calling my name.
When I turned to the sound of it, I saw his grief stricken face just inches from mine and I broke into tears and cried, “He’s dead, Robert! David’s dead!”
“I know, Miss Emily. I know what happened,” he muttered grimly.
“And, and, and I killed him!” I wailed.
His bushy brows drew together and his big mustache twitched. “No, lass! What ya did was give him peace,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “Mr. David is at peace at last. You didn’t do anything wrong! Do ya hear me, gurlie?”
I wasn’t aware that I was nodding, but I must have because Robert said, “That’s right, lass, you didn’t do anything wrong. But for right now, I need ya to go with Miss Loretta here, so we can get this room ready for the wake.”
Loretta led me back to David’s room. She tended to the cuts on my feet before helping me into bed and tucking the covers about me like I was a child. She sat with me all afternoon while I drifted in and out of fitful sleep and succumbed to bouts of hysterical sobbing. By evening, she had brought me soup and spoon-fed it to me like I was an invalid. After that, she magically produced underclothes and a tasteful black pant suit and shoes. She helped me out of bed and into my clothes, even brushing my hair for me. Before we left the room, she prepared me, gently explaining what I should expect downstairs.
Ironically David’s last wishes, if he had died at the hands of a loved one, were to be cremated. Not only for easier transportation of his remains back to his homeland, but also so that his ashes could be spread at both his mother and sister’s graves.
The first concrete memory I had after David’s death was walking down the stairs and seeing all the people milling about the foyer, stop and turn to stare at me. I felt as though I was a widowed queen of a great fallen king and his loyal subjects had come to pay their final respects.
That night more than two hundred people– Vampires, Willings and Natural Mortals– approached me. Each one expressing their deepest sympathies, relaying stories of how David had touched their lives and promising to give of their time and money or whatever I may be in need of.
It was well past midnight when Gloria Hays approached me. She was a soft spoken, pretty and petite blonde with green eyes. At first, I was stunned and unsure how to react to David’s former lover, but as we talked, I realized she was a good and kind woman who had really loved David. And when she told me that she would have gladly traded all thirty years together with him for the one night we had shared, we broke down and cried together.
Through the network of people in the Order, Robert was able to make all the arrangements, including a passport for me, and he and I were on our way to England the next afternoon.
We visited Camille’s grave first, sneaking onto the property and into the family cemetery at night and sprinkling David’s ashes by moonlight. We then traveled onto his mother’s grave and did the same there.
After we had seen to David’s last wishes, we returned to London. At my insistence, Robert reluctantly left me holed up in a hotel room while he traveled on to Ireland to visit his family and friends for a few days.
It was the first time since David’s death that I had been alone and I finally had a chance to think everything through.
My first concern was my parents. I needed a story to explain my sudden disappearance and so I called them with a concocted tale of a whirlwind romance with a man I had met and fell instantly in love with. It was an Oscar-worthy performance of pretend giddiness and a hopeful future with “the one.” Although the second call, just a few days later, was full of real tears and heart ache over his untimely death.
I hated to tell the lie, but a car accident was not only believable, but far less horrible than the truth.
Needless to say, by the time Robert and I had returned to the States a week later, I was a completely different person with a greatly altered life.
At first, the visions and dreams of David, and the nightmares of Develyn’s vile treachery, were constant and crippling; they left me a sobbing broken mess every time I awoke from them. But as the weeks passed, they began to fade until they were more like normal dreams one would have after such a traumatic experience and tremendous loss.
Of course my parents were understanding and sympathetic during this time, but there was an obvious undercurrent of anger and disappointment directed at me for my rash and reckless behavior.
All was forgiven, however, the day I learned I was pregnant. The moment the doctor confirmed my suspicion, I felt as if I had been thrust back into the sunlight. Yanked free of the deep dark hole of despair that my guilty conscience had dug for me. David wasn’t gone from my life after all! He was going to live on, through our child.
On August 7, 2008, our son, David Johnathon Blackwell-Perkins was born. And as I held our little baby, I promised him that he would, one day when the time was right, know the truth about his father.
His death surely, but more importantly about his life. How David Blackwell wasn’t a Prince nor a Count, but a good and noble being nonetheless. A Vampire Saint among the Order of the Unwilling. The one who was, and will remain, my one true love.
Emily Rose Perkins
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Develyn’s Return
Develyn slapped the leather bound book closed and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of him. He rubbed his face wearily and ran his hands through his hair.
So Emily had journaled her time with David. It certainly wasn’t a surprise, but it irked him. It irked him because it was only half the story. Half the truth. And when the time came for David Johnathon Blackwell-Perkins to know the truth about his father and Uncle, he should be told the whole of it. Starting with who his father really was . . .
After he had squeezed a few droplets of holy water between David’s lips, Develyn strode down the hallway to the bathroom. He had meant to pull Emily back to the room and finish the deed he had planned, but when his nose caught her wet scent and his eyes caught the sight of her nude body through the frosted glass of the shower, he wanted nothing more than to taste her blood. To taste her kiss. To have her. . .
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Readers, thank you for choosing Forever David’s.
I hope you enjoyed this short story. It was intended to be a preview filled with juicy tidbits that will be further explored and explained in the upcoming, Develyn’s Tale.
Shannon Bailey
Shannon Bailey - [Blackwell 01] Page 10