Tyburn sprinted down the hall following Rachel. Two hundred years earlier, he would have let her go sob her eyes out, throw things, and yell. The old Tyburn was a certified jackass. One that died a well needed death. The new Tyburn needed to apologize and console Rachel.
Rachel wouldn’t believe him. She’d put a good fight. He didn’t blame her. The day he decided to change threw everyone off guard. Change healed him, cleared his head, heart, and ear of his own stubborn mulish defenses. His father’s parting words as he flamed out on his one thousandth re-birthday struck home. The sorrow in the old man’s eyes as tear crashed down his cheeks drove home what Tyburn, his siblings, and most of all his mother missed. No one deserved to be taken for granted, neglected, and misused. Trust, dignity, and mutual respect combined with love came first.
“Father,” Tyburn whispered as he closed-in on Rachel. “I don’t why you couldn’t tell us you loved us sooner.”
Rachel stumbled before him. Tyburn slowed, unsure what to do. If he rushed to her aid, she’d refuse it. Her scorn filled words needed release. He knew her softer tender side hid deep within. Trust wouldn’t come easily. Would it come at all? He didn’t know. Seeing Rachel huddled on the floor sobbing and shaking tore his heart in two.
He dropped to his knees inches from her. One tear, then two and more ran down his face. If losing her meant saving her, he’d do it. Deep in his heart, a howl formed pushing upward until he could no longer contain the agony and pain. Tyburn toss back his head, neck arched, with his jaw clenched. A sound so eerie rolled out of him that he shook, shuddering harder as the volume grew.
Rachel clapped her hands over her ears. She sniffled and glanced behind her. Tyburn’s body arched like a huge English letter C. His head practically touched the floor. Every muscle in his body appeared rigid. His stiffness reminded her of rigamortis. His mouth hung open growing tighter with each increasing decibel pouring forth. Patches of gold and orange mottled up and down his exposed skin. Yellow burst of light sparked off his hair as it swung back and forth. As his mottled splotches grew in color and hue, Rachel’s eyes widened. Flames encircled Tyburn, cutting him off from her.
Rachel pushed off the floor, grimacing at the pain careening through her ears. Crashes filled the hall, glass shattered in the four mirrors lining the hallway. Large chunks of plaster and heavy metal dropped from the ceiling. Rachel struggled to make her way around Tyburn, skirting the flames as the floor beneath shook and rolled. With one last glance, she ran down the hall, back the way she came calling for Carlotta and Hyrum.
Could she save him? Was there time? Once a phoenix’s death wail started, time became a precious commodity.
Sorry for the late posting. End of month and overtime claimed most of my week. Goodness Rachel and Tyburn are having their share of angst. Are they ready to see and hear each other? Can their relationship have a HEA? Pris says keep your fingers crossed There's more to come. Join us next week for our Halloween Blog hop.
Enjoy the fall foilage and share a good book or two with your loves and spice. I know I will be!
Until next week,