Aurelia's Wish Chapter 1, a misc. books fanfic

Aurelia's Wish--Chapter 1

Scene 1—The End from the Beginning

Aurelia yawned, stretched, and rolled over to wake her sleeping husband, Henry. She was eager to get going, as today was the day they left on their cruise of the Alaskan Fjords. It had been at least five years since they'd had a decent vacation, and she didn't want to miss a second of this one; for she had wonderful news to share with him on their first night aboard ship.

She reached over, tousled his hair, and gently blew in his ear to wake him. He remained unconscious, which hadn't happened since they'd married five years ago. Surprised and dismayed by his lack of response, she shook him in the hopes that would rouse him from his slumbers. When this method elicited no response, she checked for a pulse at his carotid artery; then she screamed.

Patiently and thoroughly, she examined him for injuries. She found a deep slice in his neck that had severed his jugular vein; killing him while he slept. Aurelia, feeling decidedly hazy, searched their bedroom for clues to his wound; but didn't see anything unusual. She returned to her tender ministrations and found that his neck was soaked with blood, which had already been oozing from the wound from some time when she found him.

She eased her shaking form out from under the covers, reached for the phone, and lifted it from the receiver; and screamed louder this time. The line was totally dead and the receiver dangled uselessly from her unconscious fingers, as she keeled over from the after effects of the sedative their attacker had given her when he'd entered their condo on Seventh Avenue.

Sheridan's grin went from a mere rictus movement to a full on smile when his ex-wife finally felt the sharp pain of steel between her ribs. She'd only fainted, not died, so he was eagerly anticipating awakening her when they reached their destination. He'd been stewing for ten long years in a 9' by 5' cell at Sing Sing, thanks to the bitch. He wasn't about to let her die until he was damn good and ready for it to happen, and that wouldn't be for at least a few days yet.

Her twin, now his second wife, was just as anxious to be rid of her; but more to prevent a reunion with him than anything else. Sheridan Donnelly was bad news for any woman unfortunate enough to make his acquaintance, but Mandra didn't know that yet. He'd only married her out of spite and would remedy THAT particular screw up as soon as he returned Trudy to her proper state of mind. If that meant making her watch as he murdered her sister, just as he'd done last night with hubby number two, then so be it. But he'd have her his slave again if it took him the rest of his life to achieve that fond ambition.

Trudy had been badly mistaken when she'd assumed a ten year stint in the penitentiary would teach him to leave her alone. All that time had done was give him time to plan his attack to perfection; hire the goons that would help him make it happen; and then watch as they were killed to prevent them testifying against him in court. He had no concept of justice, or of a woman's right to decide for herself who would share the rest of her life.

She'd been an utter fool to testify against him after their last fight. She'd committed her second folly when she'd ratted out the location of the van he'd used in his robberies. Her third error of judgment was disappearing, changing her identity, and thinking that those puny measures would keep him from finding her when he got out. But her worst mistake was remarrying so soon after his incarceration; because she'd been a complete idiot to think he'd ever let her go, especially after she made it big as a writer and artist.

The lady was simply too beautiful and warm to release from captivity, even if it meant several more trips to prison between reunions. He craved her touch, and didn't care if it was given willingly or at the point of a gun or knife. He yearned for her yielding flesh beneath his and her warmth beside him at night; and he knew just how to induce her to do his bidding. It'd be nice if she returned his feelings, but it wasn't essential to his plans for their future together. What he hadn't counted on was her getting pregnant by her second husband, and how he'd feel for the mite she was expecting.

"Ah, my sleeping beauty awakens from her dreams," Sheridan's voice sliced through the remains of her tattered dreams like a rapier into a damsel's tender flesh. "It's about time you roused, you little lazybones. Your daddy's starved for a little affection."

"And what on earth led you to believe I'd return your warped version of love, you SOB?" Aurelia said tiredly. "You kill and mutilate the love of my life, kidnap me, rape my unconscious form; and then have the utter gall to expect love from me? I'd as soon die, thanks very much. After experiencing real love and tenderness for the first time in my life, I'd rather slit my throat than spend even another second anywhere in your vicinity. They need to lock you up and throw away the key to keep other women safe from your version of reality."

"Ah, we're back to the insults, are we?" He sneered over a clenched jaw. He'd conveniently forgotten their last heated exchange before the bitch had pressed charges of sexual assault and physical battery against him, put him behind bars for ten years, and then up and married another guy just a year after he'd been convicted on all counts. He liked the new name, though. It sounded a lot nicer than Trudy Willis.

"I have several scores to settle with you Trudes, among which is getting my revenge for the lies you told about me to get me convicted. I'm going to enjoy making you pay for each and every foul word you hurled at me ten years ago before you left. I 'm going to relish teaching you the meaning of love according to Sheridan, and I'm going into utter bliss planning your re-education on proper wifeliness."

"Then you'd better be ready for one monster of a fight, Sher," another male voice uttered from the hallway, "because she's wearing a wire and a homing beacon. Apparently, our little black widow's determined to live her own life in spite of how and where she was raised."

"Who'd trust you with such valuable equipment?" Horace sneered from his perch by the back stoop. "Don't they know what an airhead you are under stress?"

"As it happens, I'm far better collected upstairs than I was when I left here eleven years ago, Horace. I've obtained several college degrees, made many valuable allies in the local and Federal constabularies, and done a complete 360 from my Trudy Willis days. I was always the lady you see before you today, but she got buried under years of drug abuse and insane behavior."

"Ah, help arrives. And not a moment too soon, I'll wager."

The two males did a quick 180 when they heard the squealing sirens and tires through the open window that faced the intersection Fifth Avenue and Gracelynne Street. Horace shot a venomous glare at Sheridan for getting him into yet another sticky situation, before deftly disappearing down the townhouse's dumbwaiter; leaving him alone with his ex-wife until the cops arrived. The man was more than a little nutzo over his ex, and Horace was glad he wasn't her right now.

From the looks of her, Sher had already been hard at work on the poor girl. She was bruised everywhere you looked, had scratches and burn marks on her arms, and dried blood covered her upper torso. This time, his old buddy had gone way too far, even for him. Trudy had changed her name, her address, and her appearance to escape the brute; but he'd refused to let her go. Now the guy was going back in, whether he wanted to or not; and if the rumors already circulating about Trudy's second husband were true, this time he'd get the death penalty for sure.