PS01 - Tall, Dark & Lonely (3 page)

hair, kneeling in front of him. The man looked sad and confused. Finally he looked down on Ephraim with pity.

Ephraim cowered back. This was worse than torture. “Go away,” he mumbled.

Marc sighed and dipped the cloth into the bucket again. He looked relaxed in front of Ephraim. He wasn’t cowering away or

keeping his eyes on Ephraim, afraid of an attack. He took one of Ephraim’s hands into his and began scrubbing it, unconcerned

for his expensive wardrobe.

The new Duke’s men kept the footmen and Nichols at bay while he cleaned his brother. “I used to do this for you every night

until you were twelve. Do you remember, Ephraim?”

“Yes,” he answered automatically.

Marc chuckled. “Then there were the times when I had to clean you up in the kitchens after you snuck off and got dirty. Father

refused to have a speck of dirt in the house. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”

Marc stopped cleaning his hands and looked into Ephraim’s eyes for a long moment. He looked like he had something to say,

but didn’t. He looked over his shoulder. “I need some shears, a razor and towels in here and for Christ sake’s someone get me

some hot water!” One of his footmen nodded and ran out.

Minutes later the man returned with the items. Ephraim sat back and watched as his brother washed him, unafraid. The hot

water made a difference. The grime washed off quicker. His skin turned pink before turning back to a sickly pale color.

“Are you hungry?” Marc asked.

Ephraim didn’t answer. Marc eyed his brother’s body. He tried to hide his reaction, but there was little he could do. Ephraim’s

body was repulsive. “When’s the last time you were fed?”

“I don’t feed him! I was told to kill him! That would be counterproductive if I fed him, don't you think, Your Grace?" Nichols

said callously.

Marc’s delicate jaw clenched. “I’m going to have two men cut your hair so that we can wash it. Can you promise not to hurt

them?”

The offer was tempting. His stomach rumbled at the thought of that long ago memory of sweet liquid, but he wanted to feel his

face more than anything. He nodded firmly.

“Okay, I’m trusting you. Don’t hurt them and I promise I will feed you,” Marc said. Ephraim didn’t care. He couldn’t even

count the number of times Nichols promised him that.

Marc nodded to two men to begin their work. Ephraim placed his hands under his backside to help ease the temptation to grab

one of the men and ease his hunger.

“I appreciate that, sir,” one of the men said. Ephraim nodded and watched his brother approach Nichols. This could be

interesting.

“Do you know why I’m here, Nichols?” Marc asked in a deceptively calm voice.

“To finish your brother off, Your Grace,” Nichols said with his chin raised. He was making his stand. In his mind Ephraim and

every living soul that entered the dungeon deserved his cruelty.

Marc laughed, taking a dagger from one of his men. He walked around Nichols as he toyed with the blade. “No, I think you’ve

proven that is quite impossible. Of course, if I had known that my brother was still alive I would have come sooner instead of

mourning him. Tell me, Nichols, who was the poor soul that you burned and buried in my brother’s name?”

Nichols puffed up his chest. “I don’t remember the name. Your father demanded I provide a body to go with the story and I did.

It’s not my fault the boy turned out to be a demon.”

“Hmmm, then explain to me why fifteen years ago when I asked you about my brother you lied and told me that he was dead

and then yesterday when I approached you with the same question after my father’s deathbed confession you told me the truth?”

“Because fifteen years ago you weren’t the D-“

“Duke,” Marc finished. “Yes, I believe that is what finally allowed you to speak. You believed I was worried about my

position and allowed me into this little secret. I also believe that you were hoping I would continue to pay you what my father

did to keep him here and this story a secret.”

“Of course.” Nichols began to fidget.

“How are we doing?” Marc asked his men without looking away from Nichols.

“Almost done, Your Grace,” Marc’s personal valet said. “We’re done shaving and cutting his hair. We’ll wash him now.”

Ephraim ran his hand over his face. The skin was thin and tight, but it was still his face. He felt like crying. He had to place his

hands back under him before he did something to stop this.

Marc watched his brother get scrubbed and then dried. He sat naked on the floor, looking like a very young skeleton. His

brilliant blue eyes had lost the look of youthful innocence. Gone was the boy he once knew. This man looked hard and angry.

“Has any man been here for less than ten years?” Marc asked in a loud voice.

Only one man raised his hand. Tom, he’d been here less than two weeks and refused to be cruel to Ephraim. “How long has

this man worked here,” Marc asked Nichols.

“A week or two.”

Marc nodded and looked at his brother. “Has he been good to you?”

Ephraim looked at Tom. The man looked frightened as he should, but Ephraim knew he wasn’t afraid for himself. The man had

a newborn son to raise on his own. That was the only reason he took the job. He told Ephraim that when he snuck him water to

rinse his mouth late at night.

“He’s been good to me. Let him be,” Ephraim said dismissively. He didn’t want anyone to know how much Tom’s kindness

meant to him in case this was a new game. He didn’t want Tom dragged into it.

Marc nodded. “You have a choice, work for me or share their fate. Which will it be?”

Tom bowed. “You, Your Grace.”

“Good. Give this man a weapon. Mind you if you go against me you will share their fate.” Marc gestured to the other footmen.

“I swear my loyalty to you, Your Grace.”

Marc nodded and gestured to the rest of the men. “Has any of them been kind to you, Ephraim?”

He didn’t hesitate. “No.”

The men cursed under their breath. “Good,” Marc said. He gestured to the two men attending to Ephraim to move away. “Let’s

start, shall we?” he said cheerfully.

Nichols’ eyes narrowed. “Start what exactly?”

Marc shrugged one shoulder and began to pace again. “The feeding, retaliation, revenge, whatever you want to call it.”

He gestured with the knife to two of his men. The rest took positions and aimed their weapons at the footmen. “If anyone moves

kill him.”

Ephraim watched curiously as two of Marc’s men grabbed a footman who’d enjoyed pissing on him, and dragged him towards

Ephraim. “Please, feed yourself,” Marc gestured towards the men, “These men, I believe owe you.”

His stomach growled viciously at the thought. He didn’t question it. He didn’t care. After what these men did to him he had no

qualms about killing them, but he had to make sure. For some reason he couldn’t do it without hearing it from Marc. “Marc?”

He put everything into that one word.

“Eat up, little man,” Marc said in the same endearment he used all those years ago.

“No!” the footman screamed as he was dragged towards Ephraim. “No!”

Marc's men held him down in front of Ephraim. Ephraim’s eyes narrowed on the pulse he could see clearly on the man’s dirty

neck. He licked his lips. His fangs dropped and instinct took over. He latched onto the man’s neck, sucking the sweet hot liquid

that poured out, greedily. The man screamed as he struggled. Ephraim’s own shaky hands came up to hold the man.

Once the body was drained Marc offered him another and then another. Ephraim watched in awe as his skin filled in and

tanned. Muscles appeared beneath the skin. By the sixth body Ephraim looked like the same man he woke up to be twenty years

ago, Marc thought. With a gratified smile he looked at Nichols, who’d paled considerably. Two footmen tried to escape during

the feeding. They preferred a quick death over being fed to the devil. Their lifeless bodies were hauled over to Ephraim who

made use of the blood.

Four footmen remained shaking against the wall. Fresh urine soaked the front of their trousers. They were sobbing loudly.

“Please, Your Grace! We’re sorry! We’ll do what you want!”

Marc ignored them and focused on Nichols, but spoke to Ephraim. “Are you still hungry?”

“No, thank you.” He burped, earning a chuckle from Marc. Had Marc gone insane in the last twenty years? It was a possibility.

“I want my brother unchained and given clothes,” he said to his men.

Ephraim was shocked. The chains, the same ones he woke up wearing twenty years ago were about to be removed. He was

afraid of what he was going to see there. He watched nervously as the chains were removed. Then he sighed with relief. His

wrists were perfect. He felt strong and healthy. He didn’t hesitate in dressing as he watched Marc. He was curious about him.

“Ten years ago, Nichols, my father asked you to take care of a young lady named Elizabeth Perkins. Do you remember? I must

tell you that you should not lie, because I know you remember. You brag about it in fact.”

Nichols snickered. “A whore your father claimed caught your eye and played you. I did you a favor.”

Marc’s fist shot out, striking him. Nichols stumbled backwards before he was able to regain his composure. His hand shot to

his lip. Ephraim knew before Nichols pulled the hand away that he was bleeding. He could smell it.

“Were any of these men involved?” He gestured to the four men.

Nichols nodded. “Yes, all four of them took part.”

“Shoot them,” Marc said evenly.

“No!” the men screamed, but it was too late. His men aimed their weapons and fired. The sound was deafening. Every man

except for Ephraim and Marc jumped.

Nichols looked frightened. Ephraim finished buttoning his shirt and stepped forward and halted. One of Marc’s men held out a

mirror. Ephraim stared at the reflection. Twenty years ago he was told he changed. Today for the first time he saw the changes.

He ran his fingers over his face. The dry thin skin was gone. His face was filled in. His skin was healthy and smooth. He

looked like a stranger. He was now a man, but he didn’t look like the thirty-six year old man he was. He looked like a man in

his early twenties. His eyes were hardened, but still had that brilliant blue he liked so many years ago. He looked so different

from his brother.

“You look good, little man,” Marc said before turning his attention back to Nichols.

“That woman you raped and murdered was carrying my child!”

“Lies, Your Grace. Surely you know that.”

Marc’s hand shot out and he slashed Nichols across the chest. The older man stumbled backwards. “My father may have asked

you to help him for fear that I was dirtying our blood lines, but you should know that
whore
as you call her was my WIFE!” he

roared.

Nichols stumbled backwards. His hands were pressed against his wound. “I..I..”

“You didn’t know. No one did. We married in secret so I could protect her from him. I took her virginity in our marital bed.

She was not my live in mistress. Do you understand that, Nichols?” Marc said in a cold deadly voice as he followed Nichols

to the wall where he was backing up. “We were married for six months. Six months! She was three months along with our

child!”

“I was told…your father demanded that I take care of her.”

“Like you took care of my brother?” he mocked.

Nichols froze. He didn’t say anything. “You killed my wife and unborn child and you made sure she suffered. You didn’t feel

one ounce of guilt or shame. You bragged about it. All these years I had to sit back while you bragged about your evil deeds.

You like to call my brother the devil, but we both know that it’s you.”

He pointed at Ephraim who was still staring in the mirror. “You starved him for twenty years. He gets a chance at three men to

fill his stomach and he gave his word like a man and kept it! He is a man and you are at your end, sir!”

Ephraim tore his gaze from the mirror and walked over to his brother. He felt uncomfortable wearing clothes, but he pushed

those feelings aside and focused on his brother. “Marc?”

“Ephraim, would you like to finish this? I’m sure you have more reason than I to do it.” He could see what that offer cost Marc.

His jaw was clenched and looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“No, he killed your wife and child. The right is yours.”

“Thank you,” Marc’s voice broke. He lunged at Nichols and stabbed him repeatedly. Blood soon covered the wall and Marc.

Still he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop even when the gurgling ceased.

Ephraim’s hand flashed out suddenly, faster than anything he's ever seen in his life and grabbed the knife. “That’s enough.”

Marc looked up at Ephraim, stunned. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go home,” Marc said in a confused voice. He

was clearly lost in his grief.

Ephraim nodded. It was the last place he wanted to be or belonged, but he would do it for his brother. He was clearly hurting.

“For now.”

Chapter 1

Rascal, New Hampshire

2009

“But what if she doesn’t like me?” Joshua asked.

“Yeah, what if she doesn’t like us?” Jill decided to ask, giving credence to Joshua’s question.

Madison swore under her breath. She was going to have to take Jill aside and remind her that a fifteen year old shouldn’t add

to a ten year old boy’s fear. Now Joshua was going to start crying, again.

After four days on the road with her siblings and mother, Madison was ready to flee from the car, screaming. This trip couldn’t