by Diana Estell
He tenderly stroked her hair. The only thing that mattered was her.
“You can read minds. You can be invisible from people. Your hearing and vision are extraordinary. Those are superhero gifts … are you a superhero?”
Dagon couldn’t help but chuckle at the notion. The Cherbs would like her assessment, for sure. Sweetly, he told Mary that he would be her superhero. He would avenge all wrongs committed against her, so the title fit. Dagon took the time to clarify what he needed Mary to understand about his so-called superhero status.
“Mary, I have powers, not gifts. There is a difference. Although I can read your mind, it is a choice not to be made lightly. For even choices made with good intentions carry consequences. Regrettably, it’s getting late. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I can make you breakfast.”
“I would love that.”
Dagon wanted to stay with Mary instead of being on the hard bench, but he wasn’t naive. Staying overnight without it being legal would look bad and would provide free ammunition to be used against him. The worst outcome was their death if Dagon broke the order of events which Savila counted on him doing. Perverting intimacy was one of Savila’s favorite manipulation tools.
“What’s wrong?” said Dagon tenderly, wiping her tears with his thumb.
“Nothing’s wrong, Dagon. Everything is just right.”
If everything was all right, then it was right. With this, they lay in each other’s arms. Astounded, his thumb was dry, probably due to quick evaporation.
Content, he kissed her goodnight.
Out the front door, the dark night consumed him. The guardian cat peeked through the curtains of the house across the street. With a satisfied smile, he saluted his furry comrade. The Cherbs made kissing sounds, which he ignored.
“Keep good watch, boys,” said Dagon.
“Will do, Casanova. See? We told you that we are like superheroes.”
Dagon smirked at their wisecracks though he was unsure about the bombs he had dropped on Mary. Would she have kissed me like that if she didn’t love me? Maybe humans need more time in a relationship to say, “I love you.” At least she likes me as a superhero. Whether his bonded mate would ever tell him that she loved him or if he remained only a superhero to her, he could live every day just like that day. One way or another, Mark would surrender the ruby over to Savila.
Dagon saluted the Seraphs as he passed by, but they did not salute back. On his bench, he placed his two veils for privacy. He took off his coat and made his usual pillow of it. His long legs hung awkwardly over his hard bed, but he was happy.
Murderer! You murdered my very soul. The whispering shadows in his mind moved like ghosts through the trees.
The shadows tried to drag him back to the past that he would rather forget, a past that he was glad Mary did not ask him about. You murdered my very soul! echoed the dark shadows. The shame and guilt of these words threatened to bring his dagger down to cut the past away. The light and the dark battled in his soul and with sorrow, he let the ghosts lead him back to memories of France where the suffering of humanity flowed with blood. Thorns of torment mocked him, ushering in a new age of darkness.
Dagon did not want Mary to know about his past. It would accomplish nothing except to lose her forever. He only hoped that no more questions would come up about this, so he could let the memories of France and Spain die along with the soldiers on the battlefield. Dagon fought the urge to cut himself, for he respected Mary’s generosity in cleaning his new wounds. More than ever, Mary’s ignorance about France protected him, for she would not see his skill in archery, only the kill.
17
Captive
Three pairs of smoky hands took Mary from her bed. She screamed and thrashed against the smoky forms that carried her toward the wall. She cried out louder, preparing for a collision.
The next moment, she was inside her parents’ car, the very car in which they died. “Dad! Turn around! Turn!” The car moved faster toward a head on collision with her bedroom wall. Unaware, her dad drove on, while her mom reached over to change the radio station.
The wall transformed into a car, barreling toward them. Nothing could change the inertia of the past. Crunching emotional debris was scattered in the present when the cars hit with finite force and jettisoned her parents’ bodies into the glass windshield. The windshield shattered into a million pieces, and jagged shards flew out in all directions.
“No!” Mary screamed. Her body zoomed fast, charging into a field. Blades of grass turned into lethal sharp daggers. The ground moved faster toward her, though she descended easily into the surface. Her parents were dead, and she was a captive in a cold, dark, stifling place.
Chained to a wall, her legs dangled above the ground. The skin of her wrists and ankles ached. Black water seeped down the wall behind and around her. Scream after scream echoed off the thick rock walls from torture victims long since gone.
Three captors stood side by side along the wall opposite from her, sinister smiles spread across their lips while tendrils of smoky shadows curl and flicked around them.
A man came through the wall and through the center captor, merging with him, tightening her chains in recognition. Mary thrashed on the wall, as the man continued toward her.
“My husband will be here soon. He will rescue me. He will come, and he won’t show you mercy.”
The man directly in front of her caused her to cringe. Turning to the side, the man brought up the back of his hand, stroking her cheek.
“Your husband?” the man mocked. “Who is your husband? What is his name? I want to meet him.” He stroked her cheek more abrasively, and she flinched. “You will tell me who your husband is.” Leaning in closer revealed jaundice-colored teeth. “By the time I’m done with you, I will know more than his name.”
Mary clenched her lips, refusing to say a word, partially to keep her chin from trembling, partially in defiance. The man jerked her head to face him.
“Silence is not golden, my lady, and with every word you hold back, your bonds will tighten. If not already, then soon you will desire death.” The man kissed Mary on the cheek. “You are awfully pretty.”
He kissed her again, inching closer to her mouth. Mary thrashed and tried to scream, but her voice was stifled by the man’s foul mouth over hers. Somewhere in the room, a woman in shadow moved closer. In contrast to evil, she was beautiful, serene. Her golden hair moved in supple waves around her face, lighting the room. The shadows became men with blood red eyes that moved toward her. They all laughed, and the woman flew into a rage. Electrically charged sparks flew over coarse shafts of hair. Opening her hand, she produced an apple. Her demeanor switched, offering the apple to Mary.
Mary turned her face away, but she still saw the woman throwing an apple to the ground in disgust and a vaporous sword morphing into her hand. As the blade pierced the apple, it changed into a man than to a woman and then to thousands of humans. Sword held high, the woman screamed as she plunged it into each person.
The man who had been kissing Mary arched his head back and howled with laughter. With his head tilted back, the full weight of his body crowded Mary tighter against the wall and the other two men approached to taste what he had enjoyed.
“My husband will come for me!”
The black rocky wall exploded and jettisoned rocks into the air, leaving a wide hole.
A tall man stepped through the hole. Beams of light rippled over every strand of his hair, casting a glow around his face. Mary could see him clearly. Dagon.
Twirling a sword, he cut Mary’s chains and picked her up. She held him tightly, hiding her face in the fold of his shoulder.
“You are safe, luv.” He kissed the top of her head, saying, “Rest now.”
The evil woman was consumed with fire and ash, flying away in the form of a dragon.
His sword twirled faster. The three men turned around, running.
“Your chains come,” Dagon warned.
The men s
earched for a way out though none appeared. Beating metal struck the ground to the cadence of marching. Rows of blackened chains came out of the walls and marched in flat rows, link after link beating the ground. The chains stopped marching and slithered toward the three men like black vipers, rattling a metallic hiss. Chains undulated back and forth, doubling in strength by an optical illusion from the mirror-like quality of the floor.
Jet black chains marched in military sync toward the men. Dagon’s head tilted slowly from side to side. The chains slithering motion mimicked his movements.
“Bind them!” Dagon pointed.
Mary was peaceful in Dagon’s arms when the scene changed.
Walking out of a wooded thicket, Mary wore a long silver-flecked white gown with a silver link belt above her waist. The long sleeves billowed past her wrists. A long train trailed behind her, and she wore a silver tiara of looping vines. Black onyx stones were held by pronged vines. The wild underbrush did not hurt her bare feet.
She came to a wide clearing and stopped. White flowers bent over the edge of her train. A knight approached. His armor and horse were jet silver. The horse trotted, and the knight carried his helmet. The horse stopped, and the knight dismounted, walking toward her.
“Welcome home, Love,” Mary greeted the knight.
“Home from the battlefield, my queen.”
“You are my king.”
“Nay, I am your knight, doing battle for your love.”
Mary reached up and kissed her knight.
Panting, she woke up. Typically, she would stay asleep during the most horrible dreams and wake up too quickly from the good ones.
Taking a quick shower, the warmth cleared her mind. She appreciated the dream, her superhero knight rescuing her. She couldn’t wait to tell Dagon about the dream of how he saved her. Then the steam froze her body, water flowed along her curves. The water suffocated and relieved her thoughts at the same time. How could she tell Dagon about this dream? This cold, dark, stifling place had to be connected to the images of his past. Her Angel Dream, her rescuer, her boyfriend, and perhaps, her future husband, lived in the ground. That was his hotel, his prison. No, this dream Mary would keep to herself for a while at least, or perhaps forever. The dream did have a happy ending at least.
Outside, Dagon asked the rowdy bunch who were spit-shining their belt buckles and swords how Mary’s night had gone and if there had been any more dream crashers.
“Nope, all’s fine over here. How about you?”
“I’m great.”
The guys paid no more attention to Dagon.
“So, the prison was that dangerous?” Razz said.
“Very dangerous. Villains lurked around every corner and possibly hidden booby traps,” said Mr. Cool.
“I would have smashed all those villains,” said Sledgehammer as he raised a fist in the air then brought it down hard in front of him.
“I found something you can communicate with, Sledge. Something that you can’t break or squirt,” said Mr. Cool. “I got the idea from the old guy driving the Ferrari.” Mr. Cool gave Sledge a chain link necklace with a bone shaped pendant attached.
“Look it has a name on it, Slugger,” said Friar.
“That’s me for sure,” said Sledgehammer.
Dagon walked toward Mary’s house laughing at the thought of Sledge wearing a dog collar. “It’s a cool throwback to the London Punk scene, Sledge.”
All the guys agreed as they examined the links on the necklace.
Mary put her hair in a ponytail when the doorbell rang. She was out of breath, only partly from huffing it down the stairs. When she saw her drop-dead-gorgeous knight in stone-washed jeans standing tall in the doorway, he took her breath away. His flashy blazer was deep blue with silver buttons and a silver satin collar. His shirt, gray with silver flecks and a v-neckline, was accented nicely by a few chest hairs. Mary nipped at her lip with her teeth.
Two infernos collided in a long good-morning kiss. Soon it was over, and she led him back into the bathroom, for some tender loving care. Dagon kept asking if he should make breakfast first.
“After we change your bandages first.”
Mary never minded taking care of Dagon, but it still tugged at her heart. She changed his bandages and announced he was practically healed.
Another wonderful meal was done and the dishes again cleaned.
“I want to take some photos of us together.” Mary smiled, holding her cell phone.
“Do you have a camera?”
“You can take photos with your phone. See.” Mary handed him the phone.
Dagon peered at the phone, turning it over and over. “How do you develop film?”
“You don’t need to. The photos instantly appear on the phone. You can even edit your photos.” Mary took a few random photos of the room to show him.
Dagon raised an eyebrow. “All with your phone?”
“Yes. If I change the direction of the camera, I can take a selfie.”
“Modern technology is amazing.” Dagon ran his fingers through his hair.
Mary took selfies of them together and numerous ones of Dagon alone. Mary showed him how to take photos and he took some of her.
“I’m glad I can see you in the photos.” Mary swiped the screen.
“Mary, I am not a vampire.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Mary put the phone in her lap and one hand on her hip. “But now that we’re on the subject, what about Savila? She seems very much like a vampire to me.”
“I wish she were just a vampire. A vampire would be an easy kill. I would enjoy that. I can understand why you would think that she is a vampire. But ... she’s worse than that.”
Mary flinched.
“It is because of her hold on the blood of humanity that legends like vampires were created. I won’t ever let her hurt you, luv.”
Dagon would protect her, though she was sure that her face would continually show shock.
The day went by too quickly and being with Dagon blotted out most of her terrifying dream for a while. In fact, many days went by too quickly.
Over two weeks went past and on the days that Mary didn’t have to work, Dagon came over to make breakfast, clean, make lunch, clean, make dinner, clean, and then relax. They did, however, find time between cooking and cleaning to talk more about Mary’s endless questions.
“Talking isn’t like interrogation, is it, baby?” he asked.
“Why would it be?”
“Well you know … being a woman and all, you know how it is.”
“No, tell me.”
“Mary … I’m just saying … I mean … while I was still looking for you, I would overhear men talking to women, and they looked like they were being interrogated, but this is not the case with us, is it not?”
“You tell me, Dagon.”
“Mary, I am just saying that is what it looked like, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe you should get your facts straight. Interrogation, really.” Mary pulled back, giving him “a look.”
Physically, Dagon sat next to her. Communicatively, he might as well had been a million miles from her.
“Maybe it looked like interrogation because the guy wasn’t listening. Like you’re doing right now!”
“Okay, okay. baby, I’m sorry.”
At times, it seemed that their relationship was like any other. She kept forgetting how new Dagon was to human life and to relationships. My relationship skills are not good … I’m afraid, Dagon said this to her roughly two weeks before. In this respect, they had a lot in common. She didn’t know much more about relationships than he did.
“Dagon, I’m sorry, too.”
With this apology, the million-mile separation shortened. His face and posture relaxed.
As they continued with their coffee and questions, Mary found out more about her house.
“In 1951, being invisible, of course, I would come to this house to watch I Love Lucy. Along with the family living here at th
e time, I sat and watched this new show—”
“You sat with the family here?” She laughed.
“Yep, for a while I had siblings and all that.”
More laughter.
“I stretched out and even ate the best roast beef sandwiches on Earth. The family wondered where all their food went, and when they moved, another moved in. In fact, there were four families that occupied this house before you did.”
“I never knew that. The real estate agent didn’t have much information on this house.”
“The other families couldn’t cook worth a darn. Rotten tasting excuse for food.”
Doubled over with laughter, her stomach cramped.
“I tried making popcorn several times. The first time … um … didn’t turn out so well.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t know the amount of popcorn to use, so it jumped out like hopping beans and burned the bottom of the pot. The whole house smelled burnt for weeks. I quickly learned about using a lid.”
The time flew with them laughing their heads off. Mary was glad for this as it broke all the tension, and she enjoyed learning about Dagon and his life before meeting her. Listening to the stories soothed her heart, for he was right there, waiting for her.
“Mary, I love you, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He kissed her goodnight and left.
Dagon didn’t split his attention too well around Mary. He hated disappointing her. On a good note, he found out the plans Mark’s family made with the Glynns. I’m not that callous, and I don’t want Mary seeing Mark captured. He would find a way to hide her senses. This should be easy, I hope.
18
The Unseen Truth
“Boss, I think the wicked witch is up to something downtown,” said Mr. Cool.
“Yeah, I cracked that code,” said Dagon.
“Finally, some excitement.” Sledge pumped his fist.
“Maybe the babe of your heart should see what Savila’s up to,” Razz said, inspecting his fingers.