Emily’s nightmare had resumed. Develyn was back and, clearly, it was not for the reason he had told him. He had lied. Develyn had already re-Marked Emily and had seen the child today, so why meet with her again? What did Develyn hope to accomplish? What was Develyn really up to?
More important, what could he hope to do about it. Benny knew there wasn’t a thing he could do to help her. Not as her Natural Mortal friend, anyway. But what if he told her the truth about himself and offered his help?
Wrapped in a black silk bed sheet, her long hair streaming down her back and a silver cross dangling on a long chain between her breasts, Ione sat on the sleek Swedish-styled sofa of ivory leather and watched Benny. He wore only jeans and his pale torso was barely visible in the dark, but when lightning lit up the room, she could see him clearly. And when she saw his head hung hopelessly, her heart ached for him. Her vampire, her lover, her love was angry and frustrated. He could no longer protect the woman he loved, and it was killing him.
Ione knew something was seriously wrong with him the moment he had arrived for lunch. He was simmering with barely concealed rage and by the time they reached his boathouse, he was openly enraged. He ranted that the farce was over and he would no longer attempt to appear as a Natural Mortal, and all that it entailed. He had asked her to help scrub the tanning cream from his body, and after their shower, he had fed from her ferociously and had taken her body fiercely. Repeatedly.
The storm was building and with a blinding flash and loud crash of thunder, a knock came from the door.
Benny knew who it was. Although he was surprised that Develyn hadn’t shown up the night before, after the foolish stunt he had pulled in the park.
Without turning, he told Ione to wait in the bedroom while he saw to his guest and she stood, clutching the sheet about herself, and hurried off.
After another incessant rapping sounded, Benny called out for Develyn to come in. The door crashed open and when he turned, Develyn, again looking like the Angel of Death, appeared at the top of the stairs.
As lightning flashes lit up the room, the men’s eyes met. Brown clashing with blue. Their stances widened and like two great wolves prepared to battle until death, their chins dropped and shoulders hunched defensively. Their jaws clenched and nostrils flared as their hands splayed, ready for attack.
Develyn smiled coldly, and just as coldly, uttered, “You were wise to listen to Robbie today.”
Benny returned an insincere smile and smartly replied, “Yes, well, it was for Emily’s benefit, I assure you. It would have been most awkward for her to have had to introduce the two of us, but I’m sure all our paths will cross again. Another time, another place. This is, after all, a small town.”
Within the next flash of lightning and accompanying thunder, Develyn was standing right before him.
With a growl, he shoved Benny back against the window, the glass pane spider webbing from the impact. “You are treading on dangerous ground, boy,” he said, his voice grating. “And I assure you, I will not be so forgiving next time,” he vowed, and then with all his might, sent Benny crashing through the glass.
Develyn watched as Benny soared a dozen yards through air and splashed down into the dark cold water below.
Hearing the shattering glass, Ione, dressed in brown pencil skirt and red satin blouse, came running from the bedroom. She flew to the window and cried out for Benny.
Develyn ordered the girl to cease her hysterics and come to him, but she, sobbing, refused and tried to run. Grabbing her by the hair, he angrily hauled her against him. “You are not Marked! You have submitted to others before and you will submit to me now.”
When the girl foolishly defied him again, Develyn pulled her head back even harder, making her scream out in pain. “Dear girl, hasn’t anyone ever told you? Never fall in love with a vampire. It brings nothing but heart ache.”
Ignoring the girl’s whimpers and tears, Develyn opened the vein in her neck with the tip of his blade and fed.
Although her blood was deliciously laced with fear, it was also heavy with herbs and tinged with an antihistamine, but at that moment, he didn’t care. It served his purpose. He would feed enough so that he was warm by the time he reached Emily’s house.
***************
Emily
Emily was freezing. Although her thick hair fell about her shoulders like a black silk cloak and she was sitting in two feet of steaming hot water, for the third time since Develyn had Marked her, she was still cold. Her muscles ached and the light hurt her eyes. Just like what had happened the first time, when David had Marked her. And even though she knew to be careful and not touch the spot where Develyn drank from her, she had relived her attack in the woods in her dreams.
Like a looped piece of video, it played all night long. She saw his handsome face and heard his voice. She felt his body, like cold hard marble at first, pressing against hers and the smell his expensive cologne choking her as he fed.
Pulling her knees to her chest, she crossed her arms over them and rested her forehead there as her heavy thoughts overwhelmed her.
Over the past year she had prayed she would never set eyes on Develyn again. She had hoped he was dead. That he had met with a really violent end somewhere by someone’s hand. But no, he was alive and well, and back in her life? But why? she thought for the thousandth time. Why had he really come back? He said he had wanted to see little David, which he had done today at the square, but that hadn’t been enough. He wanted to meet with her again and was going to be there within the hour. But why? What could he possibly have to tell her? And whose to say any of it would be the truth?
The lights flickered. A rumble of thunder rattled the window above the toilet. David’s startled squall erupted over the baby monitor sitting on the vanity counter. Hurrying out of the tub, Emily dried off quickly, jammed her feet into her fuzzy white slippers and pulled on her white terry cloth robe.
As she padded through her room, she heard David’s wailing and Robert’s rich tenor voice singing, “– Just a little ditty, in her good old Irish way, and I’d give the world if she could sing that song to me this day. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral. Too-ra-loo-ral-li.”
Crossing the hall, Emily opened the door and saw Robert in the dim blue light of David’s moon-shaped nightlight and smiled. He was such a good man. He was everything to her, friend and confidant, body-guard, chauffeur, gardener, cook, maid and, at that particular moment, nanny. He had a burping cloth over the right shoulder of his checked shirt and he was holding David there as he paced back and forth in front of the crib and sang.
When he finished the lullaby, David was still crying earnestly. Emily recognized the steady, little fist-clutching, lung-rattling squalls of hunger and as she stepped into the room, she joked with Robert. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not that that wasn’t wonderful. It’s just that this little guy is hungry.”
Chuckling, Robert handed David over and Emily took a seat in the rocking chair. As she prepared to open her robe to feed him, Robert averted his eyes to his shoes. “While you’re feedin’ this little nipper, why don’t I go an’ start a fire, make you a cup of warm milk an’ see if we can get you warmed up at last.”
“Oh, the fire would be wonderful, but don’t waste your time with the milk. I don’t think I could drink anything at the moment,” she said, flashing him an appreciative smile.
Robert noticed her lips trembled as she smiled and his heart squeezed. My poor gurl, he thought. She was trying so hard to put on a brave face, but he could tell she was in considerable discomfort.
Emily was, what David had explained that night after their fireside talk, as an Extra Sensitive Natural. She experienced; felt, smelled, and saw things more acutely than other Marked Naturals and she was clearly still feeling the side effects of being Marked by Develyn.
Robert left to see to the fire and milk and by the time Emily finished feeding and changing David, the storm had moved in. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed over-head frequentl
y.
Bundling David up in a fresh receiving blanket, Emily carried him to the living room where the only light came from the flames in the fireplace and a glass of warm milk awaited her on the coffee table.
Sitting down on the end of the sofa nearest the blazing fire, Emily held David against her chest and nuzzled him. She turned and looked up at David’s photo on the mantel and for the millionth time her heart lurched at the sight of his smiling handsome face.
Dropping her eyes to the fire, she studied the dancing flames, all the while shivering violently and praying for protection against the monster who was about to call on them that stormy night.
**************
Develyn
Develyn had tried to rest and recoup from his day out in the sunlight, but he couldn’t. He felt every bit of Emily’s distress and the magnitude of the information he was about to impart to her weighed heavily on his conscious and he was up, as usual, before the sun had set.
As he stood at the window in the north facing bedroom, he could see a storm was building just above the multi colored tree tops. Dark clouds were piling high and a cold breeze had picked up. He remained there until the sun set and as he drove into town it began to sprinkle.
Before meeting with Emily, Develyn needed to tend to Benny. The boy was becoming too brazen and it had to stop or else he would be forced to mete out the punishment expected by the Order.
Pulling up to the curb, he parked his car and climbed out. In a flash, he was across the old estate’s lawn where Benny rented his boathouse apartment. Develyn knew Benny knew he was there, but he knocked as a courtesy, and by the time he left, the storm was raging as violently as he was.
Peeling away from the curb, the tires spinning out on the wet leaves collected at the gutter, Develyn drove the few blocks to Emily’s house.
He parked in front of the sparkling white picket fence that encircled the front garden of her house. It was little white stone cottage trimmed in blue, with blue shutters at the windows and a blue front door that, on such a night, looked especially cozy and inviting.
From where he sat, Develyn could see through the rivulets of rain running down the passenger window, through the silver curtain of steady rain outside and through the white lace sheer on the front bay window. He saw Robbie pass by and moments later, the darkened room grew bright with flickering orange light.
Pulling out his pocket watch, Develyn read its face and saw that he still had a twenty minute wait. He moved the seat back to get more comfortable and when glanced over at the window, he saw Emily and little David enter the room. She wore a white robe and her long dark hair fell loosely about her shoulders. The babe, wrapped in a pale yellow blanket, was cradled snugly in her arms.
When she sat down, he was unable to see her face any longer, so he climbed out of the car, vaulted over the fence and went to stand at the window.
The lightning and thunder continued to battle it out in the cloudy sky above him and the rain poured down. His body was still hot from the girl’s blood and so he felt every bit of the cold, but Develyn didn’t care as he watched Emily cuddle her child against her chest.
Develyn could still read her thoughts and they were no different from before, but it was the look of despair on her beautiful face, illuminated in the flickering fire light that had cut him to the quick.
At that moment, he realized he could not bring himself to follow through with his plan. Emily had suffered enough. Not to mention, she loathed him, with every fiber of her being, and she wished him dead. It would be useless to tell his side of the story because she wouldn’t listen or believe anything he said. Rightfully so.
And how could he dare to begin to defend himself in the first place? He had committed the horrible atrocities David had told her, and a few he didn’t know about, and he was guilty of nearly everything David had accused him of.
It would not matter to her that Clarissa had committed suicide before he arrived home that night long ago. That Turning Robbie’s Laura Ann had been a horrible drug-induced mistake. Or that he was not a traitor and had served as a double agent in the Second World War. None of it would matter, because she hated him that much.
But most important, he could not tell her because he could not destroy her life in order to ease his burdened conscious. Under no circumstances should Emily ever know the truth about that fateful night a year ago . . .
That it was his Unnatural Mortal desire for her blood that had forced him to shed his clothes and wig and approach her as David. That it was in fact, him, in the shower with her. It was him, who drank from that sweet spot at her inner thigh, and once sated, his Unnatural desire quickly turning into a Natural Mortal desire for her body. That it was his hips she had wrapped her legs around. His back that she scratched her nails down. His child she had conceived that night. His child she loves now.
As he stood there watching Emily and David, Develyn felt as if every consequence of his every action of his very long existence had finally, at that very moment, caught up with him and came to roost on his shoulders. They slumped and his head hung low as the cold rain showered down on him.
CHAPTER NINE
Invite and Insight
As he stood there in the pouring rain, Develyn realized there would be no cozy fireside chat with Emily, like the one she and David had. No. Theirs would be brief. He would speak of only necessary things. Things Emily needed to know that will help her move on. Let her and her son, their son, live the rest of their lives in peace in this quiet little town. And once they were told, he would walk away and finally finish what had all started the moment he spotted Valaree Von Wahran in that London pub in 1892.
With resolve, Develyn straightened and strode to the front porch. Once out of the rain, he combed his fingers through his soaking hair and crossed to the door, pounding soundly on it. After a few moments, he knocked again and when porch light overhead turned on, he winced against the bright light and angrily demanded that he turn it off.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Robert peering at him from around the door. “You’re early,” he snapped. “And,” he continued, his blue eyes narrowing with unconcealed contempt, “Miss Emily isn’t dressed to be receivin’ guests just yet.”
Used to his hostility, Develyn greeted him with a mocking bow and the usual degree of sarcasm. “Well, good evening, to you too, Robbie. Tell Emily she needn’t change on my account. I will not be staying long.”
Robbie harrumphed as he gave him a once over. “You’re wet,” he snapped again.
Develyn was well aware that water was dripping from his coat and hair and he flashed an indulging smile. “Yes, well, that is usually what happens to one while out in the rain. Why don’t you run and fetch me a towel and I will be sure to remove my coat when you invite me in,” he said in a way that was clearly an order.
Robert stiffened visibly. He reluctantly opened the door, spoke the necessary words and let Develyn pass. “You can hang your coat there,” he said pointing to the antique oak coat rack just inside the doorway. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
As Develyn dipped his chin in agreement, drops fell from his hair and trickled down his neck. It felt uncomfortably cold on his still warm flesh and goose-flesh peppered his body. Removing his soaked coat, he draped it over top of the rack and lifted his wet shirt collar away from his skin.
Turning, he saw that the room before him, now flooded with light, reflected Emily well. Like her, it had strong traditional elements, with just a touch of the contemporary, but mostly it was soft and feminine. Warm and inviting.
The walls were painted in a rich tan, like the color of the sand on a tropical beach, with warm ivory crown moldings and wide baseboards. The low ceiling was painted a light blue, like the sky on a hazy summer day, and the floor was aged warm walnut planks in varying widths. To his right, flanking the bay window seat, there were twin, floor-to-ceiling built-in book shelves. Each were loaded with hundreds of books and a handful of family photographs.
; Her sofa and oversized armchair were overstuffed pieces upholstered in plain, soft taupe chenille and were accented by striped and floral pillows in shades of red, blue, green and white. An old steamer trunk served as her coffee table and on the two end tables, stood crystal based lamps with squared, bell shaped shades in ivory fabric that were currently glaring with white light. All the pieces were arranged traditionally on a brick red colored area rug in the center of the room.
The fireplace was on the far wall. It was built in a simple craftsman style, constructed of walnut wood and a natural limestone hearth. An oval, beveled edged mirror hung in the center of the three foot tall overmantel and the four foot long mantel was artfully cluttered with feminine bric-a-brac. A large letter P, painted in a red distressed finish, stood amongst wooden and silver candlesticks with white candles, and more family photographs, with one, front and center, of David.
Before he realized it, Develyn found himself across the room, standing before the fire, staring at the picture. In it, David’s eyes were partially closed. His lips were pulled back in a wide smile and his mouth was slightly parted, as if the photo was taken while he was laughing. His brother laughing. God, what he would have given to have heard it! Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the sound of it, but at that moment, he couldn’t and despite the heat of the flames, he shivered.
From behind he heard a gasp. “Blast it!” Robert cried hotly. “I told ya to wait over there. You’re drippin’ all over her floor.”
Turning, Develyn faced him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Easy Robbie, it’s only a little water. It’ll dry in no time,” he snapped.
Develyn's Tale Page 5