A Midnight Dreary - Volume 5 of The DeChance Chronicles

Sample Chapters Part 3

Chapter Three

It was almost completely dark. A breeze that Donovan was nearly certain had not touched him moments before lifted his hair from his collar. He sat very still until the last of the images cleared from his mind, and then glanced at the others. Both Bullfinch and Amethyst stared straight ahead, still lost in that other time and place. Asmodeus watched him, eyes glittering, and Cleo, without much apparent concern, began to groom herself.

Donovan released the wards, one by one, careful not to move or break the circle until he was finished. Slowly, the others recovered and sorted their thoughts.

"That," Bullfinch said at last, "was remarkable."

"And tragic," Amethyst said. Her voice was very soft, and instead of turning to look at Donovan, she glanced instead out over the fields and the swamp beyond.

Donovan held his silence. His memory of that long-ago meeting had always been clear, but something had changed. While the first time around it had seemed a curiosity—this time it had taken on weight and substance. Rather than a very entertaining tale told over a drink in a long-crumbled hotel, Poe's words lingered. The images he'd spun hung like shadows just out of sight.

"She's out there, isn't she?" Amethyst said, finally turning to him. "My god, Donovan. Lenore—the lost Lenore I've heard of all my life. She's there in that swamp, trapped."

"I never thought about it," Donovan said. "When I met him, it seemed to be just another story. I sensed there was more to him than met the eye, and I saw the raven outside the window, but..."

"You weren't ready," Bullfinch said, standing and stretching, the movement breaking the spell of the moment, or at least diluting it. "There was nothing you could have done. If that woman, Nettie, you've told me so much about couldn't set her free, what could you have done?"

Donovan thought about it. He shook his head.

"I don't know what I can do about it now," he said.

"That's only part of it," Bullfinch said. "If she is out there, and I believe we will find that she is, what about the rest of it? The woman—Estrella—who trapped her; the princess who was stolen, all of it has the ring of truth. And what was that bit at the end, Donovan?"

"What do you mean?"

"About meeting Poe in his library. It felt—wrong. Almost like the words were forced. Where was it you meant we should meet him, the room he said he visited in his dreams? His home in Pennsylvania?"

"I'm not sure about that either," Donovan said. "I was thinking about what he told us about that gunfight. Remember, he said he was writing a story, and got drawn into it, into events that had already taken place, and he changed them. He rewrote the story, and a man's life was saved. I guess I thought that if I could force my past self to say words that I'd never uttered, I might do the same."

"And?" Bulfinch said.

"I suppose we'll have to test the theory," Donovan said.

"Where is Rathburg?" Amethyst asked. "It seems I've heard the name, but I can't place it."

"I have a hunch," Donovan said. "I remember it too, and the memory is vaguely associated with Johndrow and his council. Hold on."

He rose then, and the last wisps of the spell dissipated on the breeze. He retreated inside, and then returned, his cell phone in his hand, already dialing.

After a moment, he smiled.

"Johndrow," he said. "It's Donovan. Sorry if I interrupted anything, but I have an odd question I hope you can answer. Does the word Rathburg mean anything to you?"