Blessed Curse - Sandra R. Neeley Page 0,3

spell she turned and screamed at Alastair. “You are not welcome here. You cannot set foot on this hallowed ground! Leave us!” she demanded, as she fell to her knees beside Adrienne. Immediately, she saw what the problem was.

“What have you done?” she asked Alastair, her voice a harsh whisper as her eyes filled with tears. She reached for Adrienne, and looked back over her shoulder toward Alastair, who was no longer there.

“I’ve brought her back. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?” Alastair asked from his new vantage point, atop the grey stone wall to her right. “I’ve heard your prayers to your goddesses every time I’ve come to see just how you’re handling the loss of your sweet little girl. You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I thought she’d be stronger. She wasn’t quite as much fun as I thought she’d be. I believe your bloodline is weakening. Perhaps you should look into strengthening it,” he recommended.

“She’s just a child!” Marceline shouted.

“A child? Truly? I see a fully grown woman. One who should have known better than to wander around after dark in parks. One never knows what manner of criminal may accost them. Lucky for her, it was me,” Alastair said sarcastically. He looked down on the whimpering, writhing female he’d kept beside him for the last nine months. His disdain and utter disgust were apparent to any who were brave enough to look at his face. “She chose me to mate, you know. Despite her weakness, I took pity and gave her a moment of happiness,” he announced.

“You did this! She didn’t go willingly, I know you forced her!” Marceline accused.

“Mois?” he asked dramatically, the fingers of his right hand pressed against the velvet jacket adorning his thin, sunken chest. “But I’ve done nothing wrong. I suppose I could have chosen another. You know, one whose grandmother wasn’t such a negative influence on our blossoming relationship. But then, where would be the fun in that?” Alastair asked. “Besides, she is such a weak, shivering little thing, I couldn’t bear to leave her out in the world alone. But I’m done now, the rest is up to you. So, there you go,” he said, fluttering his hands toward Adrienne.

“There was no relationship!” Marceline shouted.

Alastair lost all sense of jest, his face became cold and hard. The alabaster white of his skin, marble-like in its appearance, shining eerily in the rain, showed not a wrinkle as he glared at Marceline. His hatred and resentment of the most powerful witch in the United States, the Granddame of the LaCelle Coven of New Orleans, clear for all to see. To those who were brave enough to look at him, anyway.

“Of course there was, and there will be ever after,” he said with a sinister smirk. “She carries my child. I kept her long enough to be sure there was nothing you could do to change the outcome. She will birth the pitiful whelp, and you will raise it, ever aware that you can’t kill it. It’s part of the granddaughter you loved so well, and protected so poorly. Each and every time you look on the child, you’ll see me. You will have a part of me with you, carrying your name for eternity. Perhaps there is even enough of me in the little bastard that it will be your downfall.”

Adrienne screamed and grasped her stomach, her fingernails digging into the skin there hard enough to draw blood. “All is well, you are home. I will take care of everything,” Marceline cooed while waving several of her coven-sisters toward her. They hesitated, eying Alastair as they clearly wanted to help, but were afraid of exposure to him.

“Yes, Grandmama, do take care of everything now. I am on to my next adventure. This one has lost its taste of… yumminess,” he said, licking his lips and tapping his chin with a ghostly white, sharp nailed finger as he searched for just the right word.

Several females, all members of the coven, had finally come to Marceline’s aid. Together they managed to get Adrienne up and moving toward the house. Every single one of them saw her turn her head as it bobbed weakly on her neck and search him out with her eyes. Was she glad for a reprieve from him, or was she already mourning his loss? No one knew, but not one of them felt safe as they assisted the woman who used to be a friend and coven-sister into the home