Eternally Yours: Devil’S Bride

By Christina Marie Palumbo

Lucressa Marie Douglas-Campbell had been locked away in a white marble wing of her mothers estate in Los Angeles, California her whole life. She felt as if she were a princess from a fairytale being guarded by an evil dragon or wicked witch. Lucressa never had any friends, though not from a lack of trying. The interpersonal relationship skills that seem to be inherent in others, she found had passed her by. The lack of a social life had given Lucressa ample time to focus on her studies and she graduated from her all-girl magnet high school at age nine. By eleven she had gotten her doctorate in virology and has been since working in a lab her mother had purchased for her downtown. For nearly seven years Lucressa has been working for a cure for H.I.V. but had only succeeded in finding a suppressant, which her mother was able to get on the market, manufacturing it in a pharmaceutical plant she owned. On the eve of her eighteenth birthday her mother tells her the secret she had been keeping from her daughter since she had been born. Lucressa had been vowed to a King, and at 3:54 A.M she was going to be collected.

After watching her life go up in flames, literally, she is whisked off to Fairy Paradise, the land of the Notorious Nothings. Faced with a terrifying hoard of everything that goes bump in the night, and the King of Fairy, Lucien, the husband she was vowed to when she was born, Lucressa found she had only one ally. Micah. Forbidden passion reigns hot and freely, and love, solace and comfort are found in each others arms. The fact of the matter is if it is found out that the Bride has allowed another to touch her that would be a death sentence for them both. Lucressa becomes pregnant, a fact she does not tell Micah.

Time is against the lovers, and Lucressas son. The Elixir of Life, which sustains immortality for only 150 years, will wear off in two months time. Lucressa knows that her child will not be viable within that that time so her imminent mortality date will be her childs doom as well.
Lucressa beseeches that Micah, whose abilities supersede what the other Notorious Nothings are aware of, to return her to wholly mortal, and smuggle her away from Fairy. The Elixir of Life actually freezes the aging process of the Bride at whatever age she was at the time it was administered. Lucressa had been eighteen, when aging for her had stopped. That gave her plenty of years left to live, and for her son to live.

As Micah opens a portal to the ionic river, Lucressa promises Micah that she is eternally his. She promises him that after the search for her ends they can be together on the mortal coil. She makes promises she knows she cannot keep, for she could not live in any realm without the knowledge that somewhere Micah lives too. And if Micah disappears form Fairy, not only would being away from the wild magic of the land drain him to the point of death, but he, and she would be found and brought back to Fairy to be executed. But he did not need to know that. Besides the love of the child she was carrying superseded all, even the love she bore for Micah.

Finding herself in 669 A.D. in Ireland, Lucressa counted her luck stars when she stumbled out of the woods and into a clearing with a village. Thanks to Micah she had the appropriate coinage so she could pay for a room and meals for a long while. She came across Stephen Lohne, Laird of Avoigne and began a conversation as to why she was unattended in the woods. She had studied the time period, the cadence and speech and the language, and had a cover story ready. She had chosen this place and this time period, knowing of Avoignes reputation of taking in wayward souls and accepting them. She knew of Laird Stephan Lohne, and his reputation for kindness and mercy. And she played the role of lost soul flawlessly. He took her into Avoignes gates and gave her food, shelter and clothes. She told him, when he informed her winter was coming and the pass would be too treacherous to pa

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499080506

Christina Marie Palumbo

Christina Marie Palumbo was born in Upstate New York. She comes from a large, closely-knit family who, up until March 15, 2013, celebrated every birthday and holiday together. On that fateful day, the matriarch of the family, her grandmother Lucille Joan Palumbo, passed away. At an early age, her parents divorced. Two years after the split, Christina was put in the foster care system, where she grew up in until nearly eighteen, when she was returned to her family. Growing up without her family shaped her view that family is everything. She remained a ward of the county/state until she returned to her father on July 31, 1998. Tragedy stuck Christina six months after returning to her family. Her mother, Helen Louise Lewis, passed away on January 31, 1999, during Christina’s senior year. Christina graduated high school on June 4, 1999, deciding to go to Culinary Arts Schooling in Southern Pennsylvania. She graduated August 31, 2000. She married for the first time on September 18, 2004. The honeymoon soon ended, as they say, and the couple separated on April 26, 2006 and the divorce went through August 30, 2006. On May 8, 2010, she took vows with her second husband, and they celebrated their fourth anniversary in May of 2014. She is currently a homemaker, living forty-five minutes away from her hometown. Taking care of her husband, her four boys (an eleven year-old, two seven-year-olds, and a six year-old), and her two girls (a three-year-old and a three-month-old)is her life and Christina finds it highly rewarding. Seven years ago she became inspired to resume writing again. When the concept for the Eternally Yours series came to Christina it was going to be one book. The untitled story grew and expanded with her, as any child would, taking on a life of its own until Christina knew to do it justice it had to be made into a trilogy. The series title was inspired by Christina's husband, whom she had written several love letters to and signed "Eternally Yours." She is currently working on the final novels in the sage entitled Eternally Yours: Vengeance's Wrath and Eternally Yours: Tempest's Calm.

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Prelude

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Fairy Paradise

A wise woman once stated that it matters not what a person does in life, in death all but the redeeming qualities of the deceased are forgotten. As I now stand awaiting my sentence to be meted out, magically rendered paralyzed, unable to do more than think, move my eyes and breathe, I pray these words resounding through my head are true, not for myself, as my life has come to the end of the line; the final stop and I was asked to exit in an orderly fashion. No, my anxiety lies with the one out there watching, waiting, the one whose heart I had once held in the palm of my hand until I unwittingly closed it within my fist too tightly, fragmenting it into a million pieces.

I suppose I could say I had learned much about life, although I had merely existed. The biggest admonition I had learned was that trying to keep someone from emotional pain only ensured that they were hurt that much more. Another galactic lesson was that people are wont to believe whatever they wanted, and vastly the idea was to believe the worst about others, although it escapes me just now if it is for the drama of it all or if it a security measure. Guess I will never know, as I have figured out as much in this life as time would allow.

Micah had cared not for the reasons why I had done what I had done to him. He had shut his ears to my explanations and pleas long ago. He had assumed that my actions were merely self-serving, and that was that as far as he was concerned. All he had once felt for me crumbled leaving only loathing in its wake. It was Micah’s hatred of me that was more deleterious than any amount of pain or torture that could be dealt unto me by the King. More deleterious than the pain and abuse I had suffered in my entire life.

My eyes roamed the chamber that was set up much like that of a Roman arena used back in the days of the Gladiator. I was in the center of the ring with rows upon rows of raised benches to hold the many in witness stationed behind its high walls. Lucien is nothing if not a classicist, I think momentarily. This snarky thought process has forever been my coping mechanism. Every time I had ever been faced with the un-deal-with-able that life had often thrown my way; my mind thought of unspeakable sarcastic comments. I guess that was how I retained my sanity, or what little of it there was left.

But the irony is ever clear. Both in history and now this was a place of imminent death. To give due credit, the Notorious Nothings had correctly dubbed this the Chamber of Endless Agonies; for though many mortals assume that having immortality that meant that one was impervious to death, the truth of the matter was that simply meant the being would take much more creativity, a little luck and a whole lot of magic to see the job done. But for a mortal such as I, suffice it to say not much would be required to snuff out my candle.

My eyes roamed the horrific faces of the crowd, my one time husband’s progeny. It had been told to me once that Lucien’s seed had created everything that went bump in the night, which by the light of day mortals convince themselves could not exist. I see that now more than ever as I scan the faces of Lucien’s sons, each more terrifying than the last.

I was consumed by panic as my eyes repeatedly had failed to land on the one face in which I sought. Just when I thought that all hope was lost I saw him in a darkened upper row, his face shrouded in the shadows. Micah, I breathed in a silent plea, though unable to move my lips it would have been indiscernible. However; I had learned long ago that Micah could read my thoughts, or that I was an open book only for him, whichever the case actually was, so I channeled my plea telepathically his way.

As though he had heard me he leaned forward, the light catching his face at long last. My breath caught at the mere sight of him, and hot unbidden tears spilled anew from my eyes. I have found I have been crying a lot as of late though just now these betraying tears anger me as I am loathed to show such weakness in the face of my adversary. I demand the traitorous tears to stop in their path but the betrayal of my will just keeps streaming warm salty paths down my ghost white cheeks without heed.

The sight of Micah after all of these years was like breath to a drowning man. Beautiful. Painful. Required to live. And oh, how I was drowning just now in the quagmire that had become my life. Only this time not even Micah could save me.

I realize in this moment the monumental flaw in my logic. I had assumed, after the passing of so many years that I had been right in sending Micah from my side, away from Dougrey, our son begotten out of love. I was incorrect in believing that a mortal could keep my son safe from harm. Stephen could not even keep himself safe, I thought in anguish. And as punishment for my folly, I have lost it all. My mortal husband, the supposed security, and my precious son, an innocent victim in all of this, were forever gone from me.

My one true love, Micah was here to watch me burn, although my life, in light of all already snatched from me was nothing of a loss. I had gambled it all and now I was left to wallow in utter agony of defeat alone. If I could only turn back time, how differently I would do things. But as the saying goes: hindsight is 20/20.

The sheer beauty of Micah’s face made me wish for things I could no longer obtain. Made me wish for things to be the way they were before, back when he was mine to hold in secret, in the dead of the night. Back when he was my salvation, when from his lips life was breathed into me. Back when I was almost as eternal as he himself.

Alas, I now am wholly mortal. Knowing this, knowing that I would not be given the tiniest amount of the Elixir of Life I knew that my body would give out and my soul would be burnt up in the Ether of Creation long before Lucien, Fairy King, Father of the Notorious Nothings, ever got his creative torture juices flowing and for that knowledge I can take comfort.

I did not envy for a moment Micah’s half-brother; Machrum. He stood accused of aiding me in my disappearing act nearly twenty-seven years previously, though he was innocent, his only crime was having the gift of bending time and space. Well, that and being unfortunate enough to be dispensable to the King. In fact it was Micah who had aided me, but it was Machrum who stood accused and Machrum would pay the price of that with his life on this day, as would I.

I had had my fill of the Endless Agonies on my first night in this hellish land when I had dared to look my then soon to be husband dead in the eye. Little did I know at the time that was a crime punishable by near death. The Fairy King’s idea of leniency was to send me here for a month, after which it had taken me nearly a year to come back into myself. So, no, envy Machrum I did not. I just pray it will be quick for me this time.

Several eternities and lifetimes ago it now seems when I had at least a little control of my destiny Micah had been mine. I mentally chastise myself in my eschewed internal dialogue. I am no more the controller of my destiny then I ever was, for I am soon to die in this hell where it all began.

The enlightenment gained from my nigh to two hundred years of existence between the mortal coil and this hell dimension was that being the controlling force of one’s own destiny was nothing more than smoke and mirrors, an illusion of sorts. A fairytale told to children to get them to eat their vegetables and be good little boys and girls. Even upon earth it seems no matter what decisions are made, what paths are taken, all paths lead back to one. Destiny is a lady who could never be thwarted, no matter how long one kept her waiting. And woe is to any who try to keep her waiting too long for they will find she lacks patience.

The mere thought of control would be a laughable concept if I had a hint of mirth left in my being. If I ever had any control over what had happened to me I would have never ended up in this place. There would be no Micah, Stephen, nor Dougrey. I would not have lost my child, and I sure as hell would never have lowered my defenses allowing the Notorious Nothings to find me and drag back to stand trial for crimes that I had no other choice but to commit. For love commanded my actions and the love for a child supersedes all.

Of course I use the term trial loosely as in this place any accusation rendered automatically implies your guilt. So here trial meant execution as deemed befitting by the King. Really what hope was there of walking away with one’s life after all I had already stated? I had insulted the King’s pride not just once but thrice. The first offense was falling into the arms of his son, a fact I am most certain Lucien is still unaware of hence Micah not being here in Machrum’s stead. My second offense was to flee Lucien, and this place. I suppose in all actuality my third, and most heinous offense to date was to be caught by his henchmen.

The Five, the said henchmen were called. An ambiguous name for sure, for it let way to nothing of their sadistic tendencies nor the sheer horror it was just to look upon their faces, let alone to be their intended target. The Five were the right hand of the King, doing his bidding, such as procuring the Bride, but left nothing but chaos and destruction in their wake. I found out just how chaotically ruthless they could be the night they procured me and brought me before the King as the Bride of Fairy.

Ah, so off topic I have become. I suppose you will have that though, with a mind as mad as mine. Merely to start this tragic tale at the end with no regard to any who seem doomed to repeat my history at least in part, seems wrong of me. Allow me now to begin my tragic tale, to reduce any further confusions, and may any and all who read this heed my warnings.

Chapter One

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L.A. October 25, 1990

A nother pain riddled cry rang out from a back alley in a seedy part of downtown Los Angeles, California. What people do not tell you is that most of L.A. is seedy ; Krista Douglas thought blithely as she bore down once more, pushing with all of her might.

They also fail to mention that only a small percentage of the swimming throng of faceless no-bodies that drown in places like this actually make a name for themselves. They do not tell you that Hollywood has a type; blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and tanned that down home, painfully fair skinned, raven-haired and off-putting violet eyed six foot girls from Maine just do not meet. They do not tell you that L.A. is not the place where dreams happen, it is a burial ground, for it is the place dreams went to die, and the young and naive dreamers are crucified by life’s barbarous lessons of hard knocks.

No these people tell you, instead, that you are special, that you can do anything you set your mind to. They say you will make it as big as you dare dream. Lies, all lies!! Every one of them is a liar! The worst part is after people you have loved and trusted your whole life blow you up with hope of imminent success they all vanish when reality sets in and you fail. No one is ever there for you when you need them the most. In all things I am alone, even in this.

Krista continued pushing, and panting. Her body was wracked with birthing pains. No one tells you how truly painful child birth is either. If they did humanity would have died out eons ago.

In her mind’s eye she relived each and every slamming door she had encountered eight and a half months ago as she tried to follow her dream of becoming an actress. All of the laughter as each door had closed in her face when she had first come to L.A. she tried to speak to every director and crew caster she could scrounge up an address for haunted her still. Agents and managers had turned her away as well. That was before her waistline had increased, giving light to her shame. No one would hire her then so she had given up long ago. But she never gave up on her resentment, and she never would.

You will see, you will all see, Krista silently vowed baring down once more as yet another contraction coursed through her. One day you will all regret denying me my chance. You will all come crawling back to me, begging and pleading and it will be I who slams the door in your faces, laughing!

Lord and Lady but she was in utter agony! Her mind was in absolute turmoil, wrought on seeking vengeance. That she could not find a happy place made the pain of labor amplify into pure torment. This pain would fuel her wrath, if she held onto it.

A chilly October breeze kicked up just then, hitting her bared legs causing her to shiver. It was only a small welcome after sweating so for the past few hours. Or the discomfort was of another sort in the guise of relief, Krista thought angered by her plight. That was her life now; discomforts of varying degrees.

She was not always this horrid person. This disgusting stranger she could not even bear to see looking back at her from the mirror. Her once beautiful, lustrous almost black hair now hung limply in dull greasy clumps caused by oil and grime from living on the streets. Her skin, which had been a luminous, pure porcelain complexion, and oh so soft was also dull and encrusted with grime. The fetid smells of urine, feces, and rot clung to her like a grotesque perfume compliments of the alley she had called home these for the vast majority of these last eight and a half months. Shelters with enough opened beds to house her and Kyle were severely lacking Her clothing was little better than grimy tattered rags that covered little of her body anymore. She actually had to steal her clothing from other homeless women, or second hand stores if the workers were not looking. Her meals, little as she ate came in the form of waiting for hours in a soup kitchen line. Often times she went hungry because there were simply too many mouths to feed and not enough food. There were times; however, that Kyle found food that was still edible discarded in dumpsters or trash cans. On those days she ate like a queen. After she despised herself, and what she had become even more.

Krista was given a brief respite from the labor pains. She took the time to think upon things from the past. The emotional pain was now what fueled her rage. She would store that rage she decided as she made her plots for revenge. They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but oh how mine will be scalding hot!

A year and a half ago she had been a senior at Messalonskee High School, in Oakland, Maine. She had been Homecoming and Prom Queen, Captain of her Cheer Squad, and Class Valedictorian. She had won every pageant she had ever competed in, had been handed the lead roles in every play and musical the school had held as far back as she could remember. In all of the year books her pictures had been plastered upon nearly every page dedicated for school memories. Everything had come so easily for her whole life. She had talent, beauty and brains. She had led the perfect life, one that had never prepared her for the one she had led now.

She came from money. Her mother was the sole heiress to an oil fortune; her father had made many good investments on that fortune in the stock market and multiplied it many times over. The trust fund her father had set up for her that she could access at eighteen had been nearly nine digits. She never worried about things and their costs, especially not human basics such as clothing, food and shelter. She was used to the best that money could buy. The idea that using a quarter to call home would be the last of her money would have never been a plausible idea, at