“We spent a lot of money in the bar buying you drinks,” Maroky said. “Did you think that was free? Did you think you were so charming that men are willing to pay for the privilege of your company? There ain’t no free lunches, baby. And,” he drew the word out for several seconds as emphasis, “you aren’t any better than a prostitute, a street whore. We bought you and now you’re going to give us what we paid for.”
The gloating of his tone provoked a new kind of fear in the young woman. Anita stumbled as her knees locked in terror. Every part of her body wanted to run, demanded that she run, but her legs refused to take flight. Looking around, she realized the entire area was quiet and deserted. Except for Harrah’s Casino, which is usually bustling with activity, no one was around. The casino patrons were too far away to notice as the two men grabbed her arms and roughly pulled her along towards the back of a warehouse.
“She doesn’t want to ride the ferry so we’ll do our business over there behind the warehouse,” Maroky announced.
“Yep,” Dwight agreed. “That row of dumpsters will just about do it. It’s dark and secluded. Help me get her over there.” Dwight forced an arm behind Anita’s back and then grabbed a handful of her long, dark hair. He used that leverage to twist her head, forcing her face upwards in order to kiss her.
“No!” she yelled out, pushing him away with the hand he had freed, but both of the men ignored her protests. They only laughed as if privy to a private joke. “Let me go!” she cried out as Maroky sandwiched her from behind. She felt his hard cock against her buttocks and his hands ravaging her breasts. “No! I said no! Leave me alone!” she screamed again, now completely terrified. “Get off me!”
“It’s exciting, ain’t it couz?” Dwight asked as he locked eyes with Maroky.
The woman’s terror fueled their deviant desires to rape her and then do each other. Maroky grabbed Dwight’s head and pulled him forward for a passionate kiss. Anita, pressed between them, couldn’t breathe. She fought harder and screamed louder.
“Yeah, but you need to keep her quiet,” Maroky gritted out.
“I’m trying,” Dwight exaggerated as if playing at some game. “She’s a slippery one. I can’t even get a kiss planted on her. If I could, that would shut her up. I’m a good kisser, Anita. Just ask Maroky. You’ll like it, I promise,” he teased as he tried to force her face up to his again.
“I don’t want to kiss her. I want to fuck her,” Maroky clamored as he hunched against her from behind. “And then, I want to fuck you, couz.”
“Me too,” Dwight laughed raucously, “but she’s so scared her legs have quit working. If we’re going to get to it, I’ll have to drag her.”
Anita felt as if wild animals were after her. There was no help in sight. Even her piercing screams were drowned out by a passing riverboat cruise. The double-decker party barge, filled with gaiety and mostly drunk tourists, held a loud band on the open-air deck. It was too far out to notice her struggles. Genuinely petrified, Anita feared that she would never escape and she screamed even louder.
“Let’s just knock her out,” Dwight advised, worried that her high-pitched cries would attract unwanted attention. “Pussy is just as good even when they’re unconscious.” Unaware that they were no longer alone, both men laughed at the crass comment. Alec was closing in, but didn’t get there before Maroky hit Anita upside the head with his beer bottle. She instantly went down, and it was just as well that she didn’t witness what happened next. The men laughed even harder.
“Here, help me get her pants off,” Dwight suggested as he moved her body closer to the dumpster. “We’ve had to work hard for this and now she can pay extra for our efforts. I’m going to fuck her every which-a-way but loose.”
“Use my knife to cut off her pants,” Maroky offered.
Almost immediately, Dwight was yanked away from the unconscious woman and thrown through the air like a sack of potatoes. He landed with a loud thunderous thud on the hood of a utility vehicle parked several yards away. The sound of shattering glass and a sickening crack of bones were soon followed by Dwight’s screams of pain. It seemed to happen all at once, which startled his cousin. Maroky, fumbling with his own clothing in preparation for the imminent rape, jerked his head around looking for the reason behind Dwight’s outcry.
“Where did you go, couz?” Maroky called out in surprise, but before he could figure out what had happened, he stood face-to-face with the most terrifying monster imaginable. He tried to scream, but no sound came from his terrified throat.
A giant of a red devil, at least two feet taller than he was, stood in front of him. Its mouth was open wide and hot fumes of sulfur blew into his face. Three-inch fangs were only inches away. Maroky cringed in terror. They’d caught a glimpse of the same red demon weeks ago. The sudden realization that the monster was real, and had been stalking them, terrorized him. Now, like Anita, he was too stunned and weak-kneed to effectively react. He lost control of his bladder and urine trickled down his useless legs and over the end of his cowboy boots.
“Wh-what do you want?” Maroky croaked, but the red-eyed demon didn’t respond. Instead, a huge clawed hand reached for his throat, sharp talons pierced his skin. The monster picked up Maroky, as if he weighed no more than a toddler did, and then it slammed him headfirst onto the pavement. The force of the impact crushed his skull and ended his sorry life. A roar of satisfied rage filled the air, but if anyone heard it, no one dared to investigate or intervene. Getting involved wasn’t a common notion in New Orleans.
While Anita was unconscious, Alec went through Dwight and Maroky’s pockets. He took any money found for Anita’s cab fare. Then, in a blind rage, the demon persona finished off the two men. With relish, he tore their bodies into small parts and distributed those parts into the various dumpsters, stuffing them deep within its contents. In a day or two, Dwight and Maroky’s body parts would end up in a massive landfill along with the rest of the city’s discarded trash.
Unlike the angel of mercy, the giant red monster knew no bounds or limits; he had no conscience or moral command. He only knew retribution and fiery vengeance. Without restraint, he was fueled by dire and just punishment for the heinous crimes the two perpetrators had committed. He felt rage and pure justification as he dismembered the bodies. When the demon’s revenge was sated, Alec’s breathing slowly calmed, returning to normal.
Alec had accepted the destiny that had become his new life. Knowing he couldn’t hate either part of himself, either the demon or angel persona, he accepted that he had done his job. During the long weeks of training, his grandfather had suggested that he always stage a murder scene to look like a robbery gone wrong. It was what he usually did, but since the bodies where no longer present, that was unnecessary this time. In most situations, he was to leave the pockets turned out and empty. With slightly less than forty percent clearance rate on citywide murders, it was well known that New Orleans cops would never look much further for a motive.
When she came to, Anita was in the backseat of a taxi sitting at the curb near Jackson Square. With one arm over the backrest, the Middle Eastern driver looked at her curiously. “Where to, miss?” he asked in perfect English.
“How did I get here? What happened?” Anita shakily cried out, clutching her torn blouse together in a bout of sudden modesty. She ran her hands along her body, checking for injuries while she recalled some of the scene along the river’s edge. Most of it was a blur, but replaying the events in her mind, Anita counted herself lucky to be alive. She tremblingly whispered, “I have the worst taste in men. I’m lucky to be alive!”
“I don’t have an answer to any of that,” the driver replied. “All I know is that a young man brought you here and gave me enough money to wait for you to regain consciousness. He said to either take you home or to a hospital after you woke up and assessed your condition. Do you need a hospital or to go home?
Anita felt a bruise on the side of her head, but it wasn’t anything that required medical a
ttention. Besides, she was too embarrassed to explain any of this to anyone. “Just take me home, please.”
“Of course. Where is home?”
From a distance, and hidden in shadows, Danaé Chisholm privately observed Alec as he stood outside the bar. Then, when he trailed the two men with the tipsy woman after they left the bar, she quietly followed him. She watched as the two men led the woman down by the river, but her eyes were glued on Alec as he circled the area and made his way down to the water from another direction. She lost sight of all of them, but as she lingered near Jackson Square, she heard thunder. It was so loud she felt the sidewalk move under her feet. Danaé stayed out of sight, but she saw Alec bring the unconscious woman back and put her in a cab. She wanted to question the woman, but she didn’t want Alec to see her there. Danaé, always believing in Alec’s goodness, knew he had rescued her from something terrible. That was enough for her.
Chapter 18
As terrible as incarceration might sound, especially when related to the imprisonment of a thirteen-year-old, Catalina Winters didn’t suffer while housed at the State Mental Hospital. As the youngest patient, she was often treated tenderly and with great respect. Many of the other patients had also suffered horrible abuse at the hands of those who were supposed to protect them, and when lucid, they commiserated with Catalina’s situation.
Before leaving New Orleans, Alec tried to visit with Catalina as often as he could. He wanted to get to know those in charge of his sister’s care. However, each of his first three visits began the say way, and unfortunately, ended the same. After checking-in at the front desk, he was directed to wait in the lobby with the other Saturday visitors. The call of a visitor passed to Madeline O’Day, the regular guard of the women’s ward.
Due to an overwhelming fear and hatred of men in general, males were never allowed on the hospital’s female wing. However, after Cat refused to leave her room for the third time, Madeline intervened. On the fourth visit, she came out to escort Alec to the patient. While they walked together, Madeline had plenty of suggestions and updates for him.
“Your little sister is doing just fine, Alec,” she encouraged. “She isn’t as big as a mite and she’s already gotten the name of ‘littlest chicken wing.’ Part of that nickname is because she’s so tiny; part of it is because she won’t come out of her room unless someone assists her or strongly encourages her to do so. Cluck-cluck,” Madeline imitated the chicken sounds and emphasized the gesture while flapping her arms like wings. She laughed easily and Alec laughed with her.
“Tell me more about my sister,” he responded.
Madeline became serious again and continued in a hushed voice, “I worry most because she won’t come out of her room. She must participate in group therapy and join the others in their activities if she expects to ever get that coveted day-pass,” Madeline advised. “I know you want her to be able to come home once in a while for a visit, don’t you?” At his nod, the guard continued, “That’s why we have day-passes. We want the inmates to have a day at home with their families once a year…maybe at Christmas or during Thanksgiving. We have to encourage her to do the work and take those steps, you know?”
“How often do you have group sessions?” Alec inquired.
“There are two group meetings each day. One in the morning and another in the afternoon,” the guard replied. “So far, she hasn’t attended either. We have to change that if she hopes to have any privileges. It’s a process; she has to take those baby-steps now. Understand?”
“I understand,” Alec nodded again.
“Do you think you could talk her into going to the garden room to have lunch with you? If you can, I’ll get a tray for the both of you,” Madeline encouraged with a smile.
“I’ll try my best,” Alec responded. “But, is that allowed, Madeline? I thought no men were allowed on the women’s ward.”
“You can call me Mattie,” she prompted. “I can tell you are a decent man and that no one on the ward will have anything to worry about with you around. Besides, I’ll see to all of that other stuff, don’t you worry none. Your job is to get her out of her room. It’s the third door on the right from the end,” she encouraged as she unlocked and opened the door to the long hallway.
“I’ll certainly try,” Alec promised again.
“This particular wing houses only women, ranging in ages from eighteen to sixty-five,” Mattie informed. “Then, there is the littlest-chicken wing, your baby sister. Everyone here has either committed or been convicted of some violent crime that forced their incarceration. Deemed as mentally ill or criminally insane, they’re unsuitable for a normal women’s prison. But, between you and me, I can’t say whether any of these women are actually guilty of anything. Yep, it seems that most were abused, raped, or tormented in some wicked fashion by some sadistic asshole. Still, we keep a close watch on them, sort of like a daycare. The orderlies, guards, and nurses are all women too. During weekly psychiatric evaluations, the patients are seen in a common room while one of those orderlies or nurses stands by to oversee the proceedings. It’s one way the prison protects their female population from male testosterone.” Mattie chuckled again.
“I see,” Alec dutifully responded.
After the lengthy details about the ward, Alec hesitantly followed Mattie through the doorway. Some of the other inmates were in the corridor, and when they saw him, vacant expressions turned to admiration, tears stopped, and sad faces turned to smiling countenances. Several reached out to touch him with light, gentle strokes as they whispered, “Angel, angel on the floor. Angel coming through. Make way. Angel, angel coming through.”
Madeline paid little attention to their mutterings and pushed the beseeching hands away as she harshly admonished, “Stand clear. Step back. Make way. Don’t touch others without permission. You know the rules, ladies. I suwannee!” she said, lowering her voice for Alec’s benefit again. “These women sure act strangely around you, Alec. I mean, sure, you’re a fine, handsome man, but the way they’re acting is simply bizarre. Nevertheless, I suppose it makes sense…they haven’t seen anyone other than the female staff in ages. You’d be surprised to know how few visitors we get here. Most families just can’t take it so they don’t come anymore. Your fine-looking face has got them all stirred up.” Mattie rambled ongoing commentary while she headed towards the end of the hallway.
“It’s all right, Mattie,” Alec soothed. “I don’t mind.”
Undisturbed by the show of admiration, he was eager to see his sister. He knew that almost all children, and many of the mentally challenged, easily saw his angel persona. In a way, he was relieved and comforted to know that those who could still see beyond the veil surrounded Catalina.
Martin Saguache had confirmed that the Saguache DNA also affected Catalina. Not that she would transform into angel or demon, but still the blood that passed through her veins affected her in nontraditional ways. The bloodline empowered her ability to see through the veil. With a heavy sigh, Alec silently acknowledged that unless he could effectively encourage his little sister to dutifully follow the rules here, she might never live outside the confines of these very walls again. She might never have the chance at a normal life. Despite their mutual dysfunctional past, Alec aspired to live a healthy and routine life. It was what he desired for Catalina, Cassidy, and Sabrina too.
Alec knew he would have to push her to adjust to the new living conditions. At thirteen, she was merely a frightened child. Declared criminally insane, like the other inmates, it was no wonder that she preferred the isolation of the meager room allotted to her. Still, he understood her need to put some distance between herself and all that she must surely witness in this place. The spirits of so many departed loved ones would overwhelm anyone. They were everywhere on this wing of the prison.
“Does she come out of her room at all?” Alec asked.
“Sure, sure,” Mattie affirmed. “She goes to her individual therapy sessions once a week. Sometimes, she takes her meal
s in the cafeteria with the others. Still, she refuses to wait with the other patients in the common room on Saturdays for visitation. Then, she gets a stubborn streak. During those times, she won’t come out at all. Anything beyond those activities seems to hold little importance to her. We have to make her see that everything here is important.”
Madeline stopped to point out a large garden room. Alec peered through the glass window while the friendly guard used a key to unlock the door. Inside, was a bright sunny room with beautiful flowers and white wicker chairs with colorful padded cushions.
“This is amazing,” Alec commented. “It’s very much like the sunroom at home. She should love sitting in here.”
“This is where you can bring her for lunch today. While you’re at it, maybe you can talk to her about participating more. Isolation makes the doctors and therapists frown about a patient’s progress. It makes them nervous. We want to see her get good marks from the doctors, right?” Mattie asked. “After all, that’s the key to getting privileges in this place.”
“If she gets those good marks from the doctors, will she be sent to a normal prison?” Alec worried.
“Oh no,” Mattie boisterously affirmed. “We only want her to do well so restrictions will be lifted. No sir, once they come here they don’t ever go back to the regular jails. It would be a huge liability for the state. You know, in case someone was wrong about the patient’s progress. No, the best we can hope for is that she’ll get day-passes or that she will eventually be released into the family’s custody.”
“I didn’t know that was even a possibility,” Alec admitted.
“It is,” Mattie reassured, “but that can take years of good behavior so the choice is hers and only if she improves.”
“I understand,” he replied now fully aware of the special benefits that Mattie explained.
“I have to get back to the door and arrange your lunches,” Mattie said as she headed back to her post. “Just bring her to this room and I’ll do the rest.”
Prelude (An Alec Winters Series, Book 1) Page 8