Page 9 of Stolen By the Demon

“It is good to see you, Master Devon.” Dottie, my housekeeper, entered, carrying a large tray with my favorite ale and whiskey.

After she left, I sat opposite Blanche, on the couch, watching her still form underneath the blanket and wondered how I had survived all this time without her. What brought her here? Now? After all these years? I swore I would get to the bottom of it even at the risk of my own life, Blanche was worth it.

I was caught somewhere between being asleep and being awake. I heard voices, a woman’s and Devon’s, but didn’t listen to their conversation. My mind was too occupied to figure out why I was here. How I got here. Well, I knew how I got here, but right now, none of my life made any sense to me. I felt as if I had died and woken with no recollection of anything. Not even something as simple as my name.

My mind was dead tired, but my body burst with a strange energy. I wondered if a nice ride on a horse would give me the release my body sought?

A horse? The image of a chestnut steed rose in front of me.

“That horse will be the death of you,” a woman’s voice I didn’t recognize shouted at me as I swung myself into the saddle, laughing. A memory. A simple memory yet so powerful, my skin felt as if ants crawled underneath it.

I tried to breathe in and out evenly, to hang on to that memory, like when you try to recall a dream. But just like trying to recall a dream, it was there, at the periphery of my consciousness, yet unreachable, impenetrable. The harder I tried, the more elusive it became, like water running through my fingers.

Drip, drip, drip.

The image of that sound brought forth another. A wall. A rocky wall. A cave. I was inside a cave. Water was dripping down the walls. Drip, drip, drip. I couldn’t move because… because… my hands were chained to the wall. I didn’t know how long I had been there, but from how dirty, sweaty, and cold I was, it must have been a while. My arms were numb from being chained, and my wrists were chafed.

Drip, drip, drip.

The monotonous sound threatened to drive me crazy until it was interrupted by the sound of heavy boots on stone. Thud, thud. Thump, thump, thump. Thud, thud, thud, thump. My heart echoed each fast-paced step.

When he entered, he was cast in shadows from the smoking torches lining the wall. He, the man who had taken me prisoner. Thump, thump. My heart rate increased.

The flames of the torches sent flickering lights over his form as he stepped closer. Slowly, his face came into view, and I screamed out.

Devon!

I sat up with a start, to find the object of my dream sitting across from me. “Are you alright?”

It was strange. My heart should have been beating in a staccato at the realization that this man had kept me prisoner at some point, but it didn’t. As a matter of fact, I didn’t feel my heart at all.

“My heart…” I stuttered. “I can’t hear my heart.”

He leaped toward me so fast it shouldn’t have been physically possible. He was agile like a big cat. His hands fell on my knees. “Easy, Blanche, easy.”

But there was no easy any longer.

My hand moved up to my chest, my eyes met his, and I was sure I had paled. “I can’t feel my heart.”

“I know.”

His answer sent me spiraling down another dark abyss of dizziness. He took my hands. “Easy, Blanche. Everything will be alright.”

I tried to take in a calming breath, but my throat was sealed shut. I couldn’t breathe!

What was happening to me?

I opened my mouth, but no words came out as I tried in vain to take in a lungful of air.

“Blanche, listen to me. Your heart stopped. You don’t need to breathe any longer.”

Was he insane? Didn’t need to breathe?

I gulped and gulped, waited for darkness to swallow me, but nothing happened. I flailed, and he pulled us up, holding me tight.

“It’s alright, little flame. It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

My entire body shook, but I wasn’t dead. Yet.

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