After Maison Blanche

Chapter 4

"Roman," Shawn Brady said. "I was wondering if ye spoke with Marlena?"

    Roman sighed in frustration as his father approached him, where he sat nursing a beer at the pub, "No I haven't talked to Marlena, and I can tell by the tone of your voice, you've been talking to Mom."

    "Listen, would ye?" Shawn said, placing his hand firmly on Roman's shoulder. "Something has got to be wrong! Otherwise, Marlena would have called here asking about the kids! Think about it! Suppose she run into John, and suppose the two of them run into Stefano, that would explain why we ain't heard from her."

    "If John found Stefano in New Orleans, or wherever that plantation is, Marlena would be the last person he'd call," Roman said. "No matter what else I think about him, he'd never subject Marlena to that kind of danger. No, no! The truth is, that they're off having a great time together, and I'll tell you something, Pop, I am not about to go down there to New Orleans, and show up in the French Quarter at their hotel room, and ask them how the hell they're doing!"

    Shawn understood Roman's worries, but he pushed forward anyway, "Ye tell them you was worried about Brady and Belle!"

    Roman's voice became louder in anger, and he said to his father, "Pop, will you just drop it! Let it go! Okay? She's gone, and I hope she stays away!"

    Shawn watched helplessly as Roman stood up, and walked out of the pub. When he turned around Sami was standing there with tears in her eyes. "I think you might be right," Sami whispered. "Mom...as angry as I am at her...Mom wouldn't just run off, and disappear without calling. It's not like her. She wouldn't leave Belle."

    Shawn wiped the tears from Sami's face and he said to her, "Ye mother wouldn't leave ye, Samantha."

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    Celeste stood, watching Marlena's room from around the corner. She'd delivered Marlena's breakfast begrudgingly, and she was tired of dealing with Stefano's projects. She'd left Marlena's door unlocked purposefully, deciding to let the woman wander the house. John laid on the floor of the basement, in his own filth, with a raging fever. The man needed medical care. Celeste may love Stefano, and she may turn a blind eye to his machinations, but she would not be an accessory to murder. As much as she hated Marlena Brady, she knew the woman was devoted to John. Marlena would find more than she bargained for, for sure. Just as Celeste had predicted, Marlena headed straight for John. Snorting with derision, she walked away, mumbling, "Let Stefano deal with it."

    Marlena found her way to the dungeon on her own, and took the key from a hook hanging on the wall outside. She hadn't seen John in days, and she knew why. Stefano didn't want her to see what he'd done to John. She needed to see for herself that he was still alive. She slid the door open, and in the shaft of light that was cast upon the floor, lie John's prone body, shackled to the wall. He was curled into a fetal position, and Marlena's heart stopped, and then started back up, beating a staccato rhythm that vibrated through her whole body.

    "John!" she cried, moving to his side quickly. The smell of blood, sweat, and urine hung in the air. She started crying. She couldn't fathom the type of mind someone like Stefano DiMera possessed to project this type of pain onto someone.

    A shadow crossed the door, and she heard Stefano roar, "How did you get down here?"

    She turned to him with tears streaking over her face, "You promised! You said 12 hours with no drugs! You promised! If I—I, if I beat you at chess! And I did! I did!"

    Stefano was flustered. She wasn't supposed to be down here, and she certainly wasn't supposed to see John in this condition. With no way to cover what he'd done to John, Stefano told her, "He has not had any drugs! I kept my word!"