Page 7 of Stolen By the Demon

“Find out all you can about those people. They came here somehow, find their car and check their license plate. Have the cleaners check their wallets.” Devon’s words were the first that penetrated my consciousness. I blinked. We were still inside this metallic carriage or bird or whatever it was. My eyes widened at the sight of the gray ocean we were flying over.

“All set in motion, boss,” one of his men responded.

I felt better, much better. My throat wasn’t parched any longer, and there was no more dizziness. Actually, my limbs hummed, ready to go running or swimming. My body yearned for some exercise as if it had been asleep for hundreds of years.

The metallic bird banked, and now we were flying over deep forests, so green that I yearned to explore it.

Devon’s nearness unsettled and calmed me simultaneously. Who was this stranger who seemed so familiar to me? Why did he rescue me? Twice?

Guilt gnawed a hole into my stomach; he couldn’t possibly know what he had gotten himself into. Roger was a vampire… had been a vampire. Devon killed him. Devon, I remembered his demon form and swallowed, tasting… something tangy and thick. I ignored that. I could only deal with so much at a time.

I must have stirred, because Devon realized I was awake. “Blanche, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Stormy eyes stared down at me. A crease on his forehead indicated deep concern. “Better, thank you. The sleep must have refreshed me.”

The crease deepened as if he were going to say something but thought better of it. “What do you remember?”

“About?”

“Anything,” he responded vaguely.

“I don’t know.” My head hurt just trying to think about it, so I didn’t and asked instead, “Why did you help me? How do you know my name?”

I only caught the glint of hurt moving over his expression because I scrutinized him so hard. Otherwise, I was sure no one would have ever seen it.

“It’s a long story, and I’m not sure you’re ready for it yet,” he said, and the kernel of truth behind it resonated with me.

“My father,” I began, unsure of how to finish this sentence. “I think… I think he’s a very dangerous man.”

I searched his features for any trace of regret about helping me, but all I found was confidence and self-assurance. An arrogant line spread across his lips. “I assure you; I have handled powerful men before. Your father will regret coming after you.”

The metallic bird rose higher as we reached an array of majestic mountains. “Almost there,” he whispered.

Anticipation filled me. Where was he taking me?

“Nobody knows about this place, so nobody will ever find you here,” he promised.

His words sent shivers down my spine. I should have been frightened. His statement had two meanings, after all. Strangely, .

“There.” He pointed up a steep cliff.

It took me a moment to see it, but it took my breath away when I did. Shrouded in mist and highlighted by the dying moon’s light, a castle slowly came into view. It almost appeared to be carved out of the mountain. How could that be possible, I wondered.

Once we came closer, I noticed that the castle had been build on a cliff overhang, leaving a narrow trail to its entrance, making it nearly impenetrable.

Something was familiar about it. But that couldn't be…

My musings were interrupted as the flying carriage lowered on one of the square towers.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Devon offered.

Strangely, I felt well-rested and a need to stretch my legs, so I declined his offer. I did take his hand to help me out of the mechanical bird. Just like before, fire rushed through my veins the moment our palms touched.

Outside, the wind whipped my hair this way and that. But this breeze was natural and didn’t come from the contraption behind me. I lifted my head toward it, closing my eyes for a moment. Inhaling deeply, I took in the scent the forest carried toward me. A stronger, more pungent smell came off the beast that had carried us here, but I ignored that.

“Mister Deville, it’s so good to see you again,” a new voice called out.

“Maddox!” Devon greeted the man who approached us. “Blanche, this is my steward, Jason Maddox. Jason, this is Lady Blanche Montford.”

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