Devlin's Curse

by Brenda, Lady

  Through this cacophony of sounds he also heard the unmistakable sound of a rocking chair on a wooden floor. He saw in his mind’s eye the bent figure of the old witch Annie. He could smell the tobacco from her pipe. He tried to speak but no words would pass his lips.

  “Devlin Winter, guess you ain’t so all fired hard ta kill after all. You’se got a lot of accountin’ ta do and ya need to stay in the land of the livin’ ta do it. I done shuffled the deck for you and well, the Ace of Spades come up, no one better’n you ta know what that means…”

  Devlin did. He was not comforted by it. For years he had yearned for a mortal death now he’d found Esmeralda he wanted to live. He wanted to have her by his side forever. This was a hell of a turn of events and one that meant that she would now be lost to him again. He did not care that he might turn to dust. He only wished to look into her eyes once more.

  By the time the travois came to a halt, at the Herbalist shop, Devlin had slipped into a coma. They brought him in and lay him on Grandmother’s treatment table. She took his pulses, looked at his tongue and under his eyelids.

  “No good, no good.”

  She shook her head. Deftly with a pair of silver scissors she cut away the sash that bound his chest and the shirt underneath. Blood seeped steadily. She poured a styptic in the wound then threaded a needle. She used tiny precise stiches as she attempted to close the wound. It continued to bleed. She appealed to Grandfather.

  “What does she say?” Esmeralda asked.

  Grandfather translated. “She says that the wound will not close. He is poisoned from within and she needs time to formulate an antidote. By that time he may bleed to death. He needs fresh blood. Blood from one such as he.”

  “From another vampire?”

  Grandfather nodded.

  Devlin could not die. thought Esmeralda. He had survived being nearly burned to death in Red Bluff. She bent down and stroked his face.

  “Hold on my love, hold on.”

  Dahlia who had been eavesdropping outside the doorway stepped into the tiny room.

  “I can help him, Miss Esmeralda. He can have all he needs from me.” She took out a knife and started to cut into her wrist.

  Grandmother sprang up waving her hands. “No, No!” She grasped Esmeralda’s hand then pointed at her. “She. She, the blood come from you Missy!”

  The room went silent.

  Esmeralda looked at Grandmother with shock at her words. “I would gladly open my veins for him but he needs vampire blood and I am not turned.”

  How could she help Devlin? Unless… unless she too were a full vampire. She looked down at him. Can that be threads of gray in his coal black hair? I cannot forsake him, not after all that has happened not only with the horrible beast, but before…

  She looked up at the concerned faces that filled the room. “Take me to Ligea.”

  Walking Ghost escorted Esmeralda to D Street and the House of The Rising Moon. They knocked and knocked before the door was finally opened.

  “I need to see the Madame Ligea.”

  The large black man looked from face to face then slammed the door shut. Esmeralda pounded on the door again. After a few minutes the door opened. Ligea herself stood there.

  “What do you want, Miss Jones? Have you not caused enough devastation in your wake?”

  “Please can I come in? Devlin is dying I need your help.”

  Ligea opened the door wider. “You may come, but not the Indian.”

  Esmeralda hesitated. She did not trust Ligea for a minute. Walking Ghost crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Go, I will wait here,” he said.

  Esmeralda followed the vampire queen into her parlor. Ligea whirled round and faced her. “What makes you think I would help you or Devlin for that matter?

  “Devlin has killed the Babylonian demon, but he has been mortally wounded, for the sake of what he has ever meant to you, or still means to you, I need your help.”

  “Devlin led Virgil my consort to his death. He is getting his just reward.”

  “No.” Esmeralda pleaded with Ligea. “You cannot turn your back on him. He risked his all to help you and the Hive. If the demon had lived everyone, vampire and mortal alike, would have perished.”

  Ligea hesitated. She poured a glass of brandy and downed it in one gulp. She puffed on her cigarette. “What is it you want from me?”

  “Devlin needs blood, vampire blood. I need you to turn me so that I can save his life.”

  Ligea eyes glowed through a halo of smoke. They had a feral gleam to them. “You are sure of this Miss Esmeralda Jones? Do you love him that much to forsake mortality and live in the shadows forever?”

  Esmeralda nodded. “Yes.”

  Ligea picked up a silver bell and rang it. The pocket doors of her parlor slid open and Cleo the Librarian came into the room. “Domina?”

  “Cleo, tonight we welcome Miss Jones into the Hive. Prepare her.”

  The Librarian shot a quick questioning glance at Ligea then led Esmeralda out of the parlor and down a corridor to a red door. She opened the door and Esmeralda noticed a red velvet chaise lounge and a small marble topped table upon which stood an ornate silver goblet encrusted with jewels. Her heart pounded. Suddenly, she wanted to get up and run from this place.

  Am I just in shock or insane to contemplate what I’m about to do?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the Librarian’s voice. “Sit down, Miss Jones and remove your tunic.”

  Esmeralda sank down on the chaise lounge with unsteady hands. She lifted the silk tunic over her head and dropped it to the floor.

  Cleo stepped back in to the shadows.

  After a moment Ligea entered the room. She was dressed in a long black silk robe and her face and eyes were devoid of any emotion. She sat down next to Esmeralda

  “I have loved Devlin for a hundred years, I would do anything, forsake what is left of my humanity, even kill to save him. However I have never seen him love anyone the way he does you, Esmeralda Jones. I cannot say that I do not burn with jealousy and that I wish it were me he loves. I wish he could see me as he sees you. I had hope once long ago when we first met. It was in Paris in 1809, after the Napoleonic wars, when the Hive and I had been entrenched in the palace of a beheaded aristocrat. Now that was a man after my own tastes!”

  She gave a short laugh and then continued.

  “Underneath his marble and gold leaf ballroom was a very sophisticated dungeon where he would play games with the filthy no name peasants, human fodder that he ground under his high satin heels. We had such decadent times! We had secret balls where peasant blood ran in gay fountains for us to partake in. Into that world came Devlin, a vampire like one of us but possessing an aura decency and nobility. For a while in his arms I had felt a light inside of me shining on my damned soul. But it was not enough for Devlin. His secret dealings with mortals and quest for those responsible for his wife’s murder infuriated me. To get back at him I tortured his donors and broke them on the rack. Through my actions I drove him away from me forever.”

  Esmeralda met Ligea’s gaze. She tamped down her revulsion at the Vampire Queen’s story.

  Did she imagine she saw a mist of tears in those black eyes?

  “Thank you for telling me this, Ligea.” she said.

  Ligea gave her a tight smile. “Move your hair aside. When the transference takes place your body may feel suspended in a sensation between pain and pleasure. Do not fight it.”

  Esmeralda did as she asked and Ligea grasped her shoulders. She bit deep into her neck. Esmeralda fell back against the velvet chaise as Ligea drank her fill.

  Then Ligea motioned for the Librarian. She took the silver knife Cleo handed her and slashed her own wrist. Cleo caught her blood in the chalice. Breathless Esmeralda lay there until they helped her to a sitting position.

  Ligea pressed the chalice to Esmeralda’s lips.

  “Drink, the blood of my blood, and the taste life eternal.”


  When Esmeralda left the House of the Rising Moon she felt a surge of powerful surreal energy. The wind when it touched her skin felt like down feathers and the lights of the town hurt her eyes. Any pain that she had once felt in her human body was gone. Even her hearing was sharper, more defined.

  Walking Ghost looked solemn. He took her arm and they walked back down to Chinatown. The air was grim inside the Herbalist shop. Jamie stuck like glue to Dahlia’s side as if he needed something to cling onto. The Woo brothers had all gone their separate ways. In another room Grandmother held vigil over Devlin.

  When Grandfather saw Esmeralda he beckoned her to the back room. Inside the dimly lit chamber, Devlin lay still as a wax statue. His hair had turned almost totally white. A sheen of moisture beaded his brow. Esmeralda looked down at him.

  I have not a single regret, she thought.

  She let grandmother pull her arm forward and hold her wrist over an earthenware bowl. Grandmother filled it to brimming then added several drops of a dark tincture.

  Grandfather bent down and raised Devlin’s head and both Grandmother and Esmeralda managed to get it past his lips. Devlin’s body reacted instinctively and he sipped a small amount of the fresh scarlet fluid. The rest dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt. They waited for a sign, a flicker of life but he remained unresponsive.

  “Devlin? Wake up my love!” Esmeralda shook his shoulder. She looked from Grandmother to Grandfather. “What is wrong? Why does he not wake?”

  Grandfather laid Devlin back down. Grandmother put her ear to Devlin’s chest. She straightened and shook her head. She spoke to Grandfather.

  “She says that his heart has not mended. He is not dead but he is not alive and that there is nothing else left for her to do.”

  “What does she mean by that? Will he wake?” Esmeralda asked.

  Grandfather looked at Esmeralda, a sad smile on his lips. “The ways of the Jiang Shi are mysterious. He could wake tomorrow or a hundred years from now, this I cannot predict.”

  Esmeralda eyes filled with tears.

  I can’t believe it! Devlin dead? After all this? Damn you Devlin! You have taken me for a hard ride. Made me love you. Gambled with my heart and my mortality and then to die on me? Will you leave me now to be suspended in some macabre living death?

  She stood up and with a shaky hand wiped the tears away. She saw Grandmother and Grandfather awaited her instructions but she was at a total loss.

  “What can be done for him?”

  “I have seen but one other case like this. Your Lord must be placed in the earth. If it is his fate to live he will rise again,” Grandfather said.

  “Buried? In a grave? Is this the only way?”

  Grandfather spoke to his wife. They both nodded in agreement. Esmeralda touched the snow white hair at Devlin’s temple then brought his hand to her lips. She got up and left the room.

  Walking Ghost had waited for her outside. “Did the medicine woman heal him? Does he live?”

  “No, her tincture, as well as the blood, has failed to revive him. We must now tell the Hive. I hope they will know what to do next.”

  And so it was in the hour before midnight a small procession, which consisted of Esmeralda, Walking Ghost, Jimmy, Dahlia, Ligea, Cleo the Librarian and other members of the Hive, carried a black ebony casket up the hill to the cemetery and to a secret crypt under a pomegranate tree.

  Ligea, her face obscured by a long veil, presided over the brief ceremony. They lay Devlin’s casket in the stone crypt and sealed it with a heavy cross of silver.

  After they emerged from the cemetery Esmeralda paused. She turned to Jamie and Dahlia. Even through her grief she did not fail to notice the new energy that pulsed between them.

  “Jamie, I will need you to handle my business affairs for the next few days. Dahlia, you are welcome as well.”

  Jamie nodded. He did not quite meet her gaze. “Yes Miss Esmeralda. Did you want me to open up the Salon as usual?”

  “For the time being, yes. I will send word to you tomorrow”

  They parted ways Jamie, with Dahlia on his arm, disappeared into the night towards B Street.

  “Are ya gonna tell her?” Dahlia asked.

  Jamie nodded. “When the time is right. I ain’t leavin’ her high and dry. Miss Esmeralda’s been good to me.”

  Dahlia looked up at him her eyes shining. “Ain’t I been good to ya?”

  Jamie pulled her close and kissed her longingly.

  “Yes you have and I’d be lying if I was to say that I weren’t plum over the moon for you, I knowed it the first time I laid eyes on ya.”

  Dahlia kissed him back. Despite the grim circumstance of their meeting, Jamie was filled with happiness. In the hours while they had hid terrified in the bushes waiting for the outcome between Devlin, Big Jim and the demon, they had become lovers. Dahlia had been his first and he adored her. He had also become her willing donor. They’d whispered their confessions of love in the dark and he promised to follow her to New Orleans and run her riverboat. He did not care that she had been a whore and a thief. Like him she had never had anyone to call her own. She had a heart of gold and they were two of a kind – two of the Forgotten who had found each other.

  When they had parted ways Esmeralda faced Walking Ghost. “Thank you for all you have done. Maybe now you can find peace. Maybe we all can all find peace, most of all Devlin.”

  Walking Ghost looked out over dark rolling hills of the cemetery. “Where will you go?”

  Esmeralda smiled in the dark. As usual Walking Ghost like Annie could see right through her. “Somewhere, anywhere and there is no need to try to find me.”

  Walking Ghost nodded. “May your journey be safe, woman of Devlin’s heart.”

  “And yours too, my friend” she replied.

  Esmeralda left the cemetery. She had not slept in twenty four hours. What had happened in Virginia City marked for her the second brush with Devlin and another monstrous evil. Each time he had cheated death by less and less. If not for her, Devlin would not have been endangered. If not for him, she would be now what she loathed the most. A cursed vampire, an undead pariah doomed to walk the earth for eternity.

  She hurried up the street to the Emerald Salon. The house was silent, not a soul stirred. Once inside she emptied her vanity drawers and the contents of her armoire into a large carpetbag and then dressed in a dark velvet travelling dress. She was leaving tonight. She would not wait for their next encounter, if ever there should be one, because three was a mystical number and she was superstitious. She did not believe that the third time would be a charm.

  After all her efforts to save him had failed and Devlin had been lowered into his crypt, it was time for her to leave. She fled Virginia City with a vengeance. She boarded the train in Carson City, headed out of Nevada, and never looked back.

  When she arrived in San Francisco she stayed briefly, just long enough to quench the powerful gut wrenching thirst that had possessed her. She did not know where to turn or how to choose her first victim her only clue was on a crumpled piece of paper, the address of a private parlor in Chinatown that Grandmother Woo had pressed into her hand at Devlin’s bedside.

  She walked down steep and crooked streets until finally coming to a narrow scarlet door. Chinese characters were written above it in red paint. She knocked at the door. A young Chinese boy led her into the dark interior. In a silk draped parlor was the Madame. A celestial beauty with elaborately curled and piled hair dressed in western clothes. Esmeralda handed her the note and after a brief glance the Madame clapped her hands. A door opened into the parlor and a handsome Chinese man with a long black braid entered, he bowed slightly to Esmeralda. Her heart beat swiftly and she licked her dry lips.

  Can I really do this? Do I have a choice?

  He spoke to her in Chinese but all she could do was nod. She did not protest as he led her into a back room. He pointed to a silk upholstered divan and Esmeralda sat down heavily. Her donor sat down beside her and u
nbuttoned the collar of his tunic. Her nostrils flared at the scent of his mortal blood and without a will of her own she fastened her teeth to his neck and drank deeply. Once she was satisfied her donor left and she lay back down on the divan. Everything stood out in sharper perspective, the blood red lamplight, the sandalwood incense and her own eternal damnation.

  Tears filled her eyes, spilling over the corners, and turned her hair damp with the moisture. She squeezed her eyes shut and behind her darkened lids the image of Devlin appeared. He started to speak to her but she gasped and shook herself awake.

  “Curse you, Devlin!”

  She sat up reeling a little from the powerful surge of energy. She dug some gold pieces out of her purse and laid them on the divan and then left silently. Once outside she hurried back the way she had come. Back to the train depot where she would board the next train for parts unknown.

  As Esmeralda had made her exodus from Nevada she had gradually adjusted to vampirism. She only preyed on the fringe element of any town she visited. She also developed a keen sense and ability to recognize other vampires. Never before had she realized how very prevalent they were in the West. Many of them were gamblers like herself and Devlin.

  Devlin, the stone in her shoe, the hole in her heart! She rambled from town to town and kept on the move. Her travels took her from one obscure grease-spot of a town to the next. She stopped long enough to get into a card game win a stake and move on.

  For the next few years, this became the pattern of her existence. Even though she had seen the demon killed and Devlin placed in the ground, at times she could not shake the feeling that she was being followed or even hunted. At night she dreaded sleep and fought to stay awake and when finally she did slip into unconsciousness bittersweet images of Devlin possessed her. She could see him in the darkness of his crypt and sometimes in the predawn she could swear that he sat on the edge of her bed.