Devlin's Curse (22 page)

“Eat!” The word came from nowhere. It was a hollow disjointed voice.

His mouth watered, ravenous, he bit into it chewing the putrid flesh as if it were the manna of the Gods. His consumption of the grisly remains of the Demon Gallu made his once frail body as strong as a whip. His fevered brain hummed with the scent of the white woman with the Devil’s hair.

In disguise and on foot he had stalked her from town to town waiting for, he did not know what, and always a step behind. Now she was in Tombstone and his fuzzy mind was not clear on what to do. He registered the fact he was to wait for a sign. Only then he would act. For now he must just follow and watch. 

He observed her from the shadows as she opened her new saloon. He’d seen the men flock to her side. They slavered like dogs in heat. Wing noticed, with satisfaction, that she did not let any of them get close to her. He sensed the thing that controlled him would not like it and her body was reserved for some other purpose. Every so often the niggling fear of the gambler, the dark Lord Devlin Winter, brushed over him like a cold wind. In all this time he had not seen him around her but he took precautions.

Tombstone was a festering nest of bad men, gunfighters, cheats, scavengers many who made their way to his tent for a pull on the opium pipe and a bowl of Wing’s noodles fried up with a very special type of meat. His own resurrection by the demon had not only strengthened his body it had filled him with greed. His own opium dreams had shown him the reward and riches that would be his once he delivered the devil woman to the Red Dragon. 

For three weeks Devlin rode south across Arizona Territory until he reached Tombstone. He arrived at high noon with a sandstorm at his back.

The townsfolk, noticed a dark rider on a magnificent black stallion. Usually they were immune from strangers and strange goings on in the town.

That man looks different.

They lowered their gaze and hurried away.

Through the yellow dust Devlin saw a sign swinging in the wind proclaiming it The Emerald Saloon. He had had no doubt that this was her establishment. He had found her again, the siren of his dreams, Miss Esmeralda Jones. She was indeed here in Tombstone the wildest, most wicked, town in the west. 

He pulled Mephistopheles up in front of the saloon, dismounted and tied him to the hitch rail. He walked up to the batwing doors and peered over the top. Inside the smoky interior, he saw her. She sat dealing cards for two well-dressed men. Her beauty was more vibrant than before, her skin whiter, her hair that was curled and piled high, a deeper scarlet and her eyes flashed as bright as cut emeralds.

He was filled with remorse. What have you done, Angel? He knew the answer. He wanted to barge in and confront her, but he hung back, this was a thing to be settled in private. This time he would have the truth of it and the Devil take the consequences.

He would not be satisfied until he had taken it out on every inch of her tempting flesh.

At midnight when the moon was high, a white ball in the dusty hot sky, Esmeralda called it quits for the night.  She went back to her private rooms above the saloon, sat down at her vanity and removed her dress and loosened her corset. She felt the hunger but resisted. Instead she put several drops of Demotic Blood in her glass of brandy and drank it. The town of Tombstone was wild and wicked with never a dull moment and her saloon was full of interesting characters and play. That and the steady stream of patients who came to her back door should be enough to numb her mind.

Tonight she felt more alone, and devastated, than ever. She knew it was because she missed Devlin. Damn him! She did not even have a single thing, even a paltry memento, to remind her of him. She pulled out the top drawer of her vanity and took out her tarot cards. She was ready for the moment of truth. She wanted to open her eyes and heart to the messages the universe had to give her. Ever since becoming a full vampire she had been plagued with visions that she had begun to think of as remembrances of a past life. Visions, in which she walked through a great stone castle searching, waiting for a shadowy figure she knew must be Devlin. Part of her yearned for what she did not know. The other part dreaded the knowledge. 

She shuffled the cards and lay them down in a familiar spread. The Tower card glared up at her from the center of the spread and a chill ran down her spine. Her fears were confirmed when it was crossed with the magician.

Chaos!

Destruction followed by enlightenment.

A magical adept. Devlin! Could it be? 

Her hands trembled and she hastily started to pick up the cards. She wanted to put them away, somewhere far out of sight.

A hot wind blew through her curtains and into the room scattering the cards before she could gather them up. Startled she looked up to see the silhouette of a man leaning against her door jam, the tip of his cigar glowed in the dark. A familiar shape and one she could not forget. She gasped.

“Devlin!”

He pushed away from the door jam, flicked his cigar into the night, and entered the room.

“Deal me in, Angel. I want to see what the cards hold for us.”

Esmeralda shook her head. He was alive and he had come back for her. She was terrified. “No Devlin, this game is closed for you. I will not gamble with my heart ever again.”

Devlin’s dark eyes glowed and he reached down to grasp Esmeralda by her upper arms. She turned her face away but did not resist when he lifted her to her feet. His arms went around her and he kissed her neck. A warm tide of emotion swept over her, overwhelmed her, and made her weak in the knees.

“Do not resist me, Angel.” He gently turned her face to his.

Reluctantly Esmeralda met his gaze.

“ Devlin, how? When? I don’t know if I can trust that it is you”

He captured her lips in a searing kiss. Their mouths opened and their tongues entwined. Need filled Esmeralda all the way down to her toes.

“I need you.” Devlin said. “While I lay in my crypt, visions of you, dreams of you, were all that stood between me and insanity or oblivion. You were my compass in a dark sea of death. Yes, I live again, which tells me that there must be some divine purpose. What lies between us is larger than this curse, a blood bond that must carry us into the future, and beyond.”

Esmeralda tried to pull away but he held her fast. Her strength, the vital energy that pulsed from her, confirmed his suspicions.

“Esmeralda do you have something to tell me?”

“Go away, Devlin. I am not the same as I was. I am tainted by your divine purpose, fouled by the disease of immortality.”

Devlin drew a breath. “I knew it must be so. Tell me what happened the day of my death.”

Esmeralda shook her head. “It is not important, it is done.”

Devlin was silent. Esmeralda did not fight him when he drew her close again. For a moment they held each other. The flame of desire began to swirl and rise between them. Devlin crushed her to him with another deep kiss. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

He did not release his hold as he kissed her moving down to kiss and suckle her breasts as they spilled over the top of her corset. She followed his lead kissing him back, running her hands through raven hair that smelled of brimstone, her fingers lingered on the pure white streak.

Impatiently he paused to strip off his pants and boots. Her breath came quickly as her new senses heightened like never before. She was ablaze. Every inch of her body yearned for more. Devlin continued his sensuous assault as he caressed her through the layers of her clothes. She gasped as his hand found its way under her skirt and through the slit in her pantaloons. His fingers stroked her moist petals mimicking the strokes of his tongue. She clung to his shoulders as he lifted her up and impaled himself deep within her thrusting relentlessly until the pleasure mounted higher and higher, until her own ecstasy burst forth like a white hot comet.

Devlin spilled his vampire seed with a deep groan. He held her close as if he never wanted to let her go.

From underneath an overhang, on the darkened boardwalk below, Wing witnessed their reunion. His skinny limbs jumped like a puppet’s. A hollow, terrible voice spoke in his head.

“Slave, you will kill the revenant and bring me his bride. I command you!”

Like an eager dog, he crossed the street. He shimmied up the side of the building to the second floor of the Emerald Saloon. He crept over to Esmeralda’s open door.

Devlin looked into Esmeralda’s eyes. “We belong to each other. Angel, please say that you will be my queen?”

Esmeralda was silent. This was the edge of the cliff; she need only jump to join Devlin in his immortal damnation.

He could feel her hesitation but did not press her. Instead he stroked her hair away from her face. “You do not need to decide now. Know only that it is our destiny and I will not give up on it.”

Esmeralda opened her mouth to speak, but paused when she saw a shadow pass cross the open balcony door. It was a long sinister, silhouette of a shotgun barrel held by a scarecrow figure in a pointed Chinese hat. 

A distinct “click” the sound of the shotgun hammer being pulled back, then Devlin reacted. He rolled off the bed with Esmeralda is his arms a second before the load exploded over their heads.

“Oh my God! Devlin!” she cried.

Devlin put his hand over her mouth. “Shhhh…stay down. I will deal with this.”

Devlin leapt up towards the shadowy figure. He grappled with his assailant through the sheer curtains bringing them down with a crash. In the light of the moon he saw the demented face. Its sunken eyes burned like red coals and he babbled in Chinese.

Devlin drew back his fist and punched him in the face. Black blood spurted from his crushed nose but still he twisted and squirmed with superhuman strength. His gaping almost toothless mouth snapped blindly at Devlin as if to eat him.

A shot rang out and a hole appeared in the Chinaman’s forehead his eyes rolled up his head with a gasping screech. His body jerked flipped backwards and out of the broken window. Devlin looked up to see Esmeralda holding a smoking six gun in her hand.

“Who the hell was that?” she asked.

Devlin frowned. “I have seen him before, in Virginia City. His name is Wing, an opium dealer and a damned cockroach.”

Esmeralda frowned. “What have you brought to my door, Devlin?”

Unbidden tears flowed down her cheeks. He could not give her the answer she deserved. She needed to be reassured that they would not continue to be stalked by evil possessed wretches, their demonic minions or even the demons themselves.

He enfolded her in his arms. There were no words that he could say to convince her that life with him would be otherwise. The horror that had been dredged up in Virginia City had followed them here. Some residual evil in the form of the creeping animated flesh of the demon that had not been destroyed. He had not been able to dispatch it back to Hell.

He laid her gently on the bed and closed the door to the balcony. Then he took Esmeralda back in his arms again. They lay down together, entwined through what was left of the night. When the first pink of the dawn had risen and his Angel had finally fallen asleep, Devlin rose from the bed and pulled on his clothes. He strapped on his gun belts. Then he took out a playing card from his shirt pocket. The Ace of Hearts.  He wedged into a corner of her vanity mirror and then he turned to leave.

Esmeralda’s eyes snapped open.

“Devlin? Where are you going?”

He turned back to her. “I am leaving, Angel. I realize through all this that I have been a selfish, self-serving bastard. I should have left you alone back in Red Bluff. I could not help myself and now the curse that has dogged me is spilling over upon you. You did not ask to become a vampire and I know you did it to save me. This war of mine will not end until all the demons are dead. I do not want to risk you being caught in the cross hairs again.”

Esmeralda remained silent.

She loved him but she would not beg him to stay with her. She knew it was not by a far stretch the end of their association.

Instead she let him go.

He vanished out of the window, out of her life with only the sound of Mephistopheles’ retreating hoof beats, to leave a permanent tattoo on her heart.

THE END

About the author

Lady Brenda AKA Brenda Mckoy was born in California and raised in east Africa. She is a professional psychic, radio show host, Druid High Priestess and the author of several metaphysical books.  Lady Brenda’s other interests include belly dancing and horseback riding. She divides her time between her small ranch in California and her haunted Victorian house in the living ghost town of Virginia City Nevada.

If you liked this book, you might also enjoy: