She’d loved Alec Winters for as long as she could remember. She’d felt the mystical pull to be with him even as far away as Rhode Island. It had been foretold this day would come – she’d even prepared for it. However, after so many years had passed, she’d given up hope that the time would ever arrive.
She recalled her life in New Orleans as a high school student – in love with someone she could never have. All of those days and their circumstances and situations, now flooded her with unwanted memories. Memories that she’d tried to lockdown and pack away in the back corner of her mind. Feelings, long suppressed, overwhelmed her.
Alec had loved Sabrina from the moment they first met. Danaé had helplessly stood by while she watched them plan their future together. A future never realized. ‘Life’ got in the way.
“Life!” She bitterly scoffed. “Life was a snarky, cold bitch always messing up people’s plans.”
Like Catalina, Danaé had the ability to see beyond the veil. Unlike Catalina, Danaé had been born with it whereas Catalina’s had emerged in a much more dangerous way and from abuse. Danaé had the ‘sight’ as Grandmother Chisholm called it.
The gift was both a blessing and a curse. One that she’d tried to hide from Tommy and her mother’s family in Rhode Island. She’d tried to make a new life for herself here. She’d accepted their gifts, attended Brown University, found a new love and married him – but nothing had really changed. She was still in love with Alec. She still yearned for him with every fiber of her being.
The gift of sight, an inheritance from her father’s Louisiana backwater bayou family, was something her new family would never accept or comprehend. Sometimes, she’d wished they’d had more understanding of who she was – the person she hid from everyone here. It was the way it had to be in this new life she’d created. Her abilities were only accepted in a city like New Orleans. A city filled with mystical, magical anomalies and peculiarities.
Danaé’s recall was precise – she’d been there when Alec was arrested for the murder of his father. That was only one example of ‘life’ screwing with your plans. Although later acquitted, Alec lost everything he held dear in the interim. His scholarship to LSU. His job. Even his ability to graduate like a normal high school senior. He’d also lost his dreams of a future with Sabrina. Everything had been stripped from Alec Winters…and Danaé’s love for him was so strong, she couldn’t hang around to watch his destruction.
On the night of Alec’s arrest, Martin Saguache had given her a message for his grandson and she had delivered it, “Don’t worry, Alec, your grandfather told me to remind you that everything will be all right.”
With clarity, Danaé recalled everything that had happened afterwards. She’d stood with Sabrina and Chaz outside the Carrollton Avenue home, waiting for Cassidy and Catalina to return from the hospital that terrible night. She had supported Alec’s family and friends in any way she could back then.
‘Back then,’ seemed like a century ago. ‘Back then’ was before she left New Orleans to attend Brown. Before she met Tommy. Before she grew to love her grandparents. Before her inability to conceive a child with Tommy. Before so much had happened.
Although she had planned and prepared for this day for many years, she was still shocked that it had finally arrived.
Why now?
Why did her world have to turn upside down now for some stupid pact her family had made with the Saguache family many years ago? It was insane!
She thought about her husband, Tommy Kowalski. He was a wonderful man and a great husband. Unlike so many of the men she had known in New Orleans. Unlike so many of her friends’ husbands who were always looking for a chance to cheat on their wives.
How could she leave Tommy? What would he think? What if Mr. Saguache was wrong? What if Alec didn’t need her? More importantly, what if he didn’t want her? Would Tommy take her back?
She imagined herself leaving, being rejected by Alec, and forced to crawl back on her hands and knees, begging for her husband’s forgiveness. It wasn’t a pretty picture.
Still, all the memories she’d finally set free had inflamed the desires she’d hidden away. Danaé knew she had to go to Alec Winters. If there was any chance, no matter how small, that he needed her, she had to go. She wanted to go…and that scared her more than anything.
***
Danaé, now home, climbed up to the top of her closet to reach a hidden panel. She retrieved a bag that she’d kept packed for this occasion. She pulled it out and quickly examined its contents.
Her new identity: Driver’s license and passport, bankcard and credit cards all under a new name – Denise Winters. The precaution was necessary in case Tommy hired a private eye to find her. Using the new name on the trip would make her more difficult to find. She laughed at the irony and continued to examine the contents – keys to a storage unit, cash, and one change of clothing.
She sighed deeply and sat down at the table to write a letter to Tommy. When that was done, she looked at her watch. She’d finished her preparations to leave in only an hour. Her entire life had been removed in only sixty minutes from the time Martin Saguache had shown himself at the gym.
She folded the paper in half, wrote ‘Tommy’ on it, and left it standing up on the dining table. Then, she opened the door, reclosed and locked it, never looking back. She couldn’t. If she did, she might change her mind and never leave.
Danaé took a taxi across town. When she arrived at the storage unit that she’d kept secret for two decades, she unlocked the full-size container and rolled up the metal door. The baby blue, 1991 Ford Thunderbird convertible, a graduation gift from her grandparents, glistened as the sunlight streamed through the open door.
As far as Tommy and her grandparents knew, she’d sold the car to Denise Winters a long time ago. Denise rented the storage unit; she kept the car maintained annually even though she hardly ever drove it. Danaé realized how intricate this plan had been all along… so many lies and secrets…all to assure that when Alec Winters needed her, she’d be there for him. Now, Danaé checked the trunk, reassuring herself that she had everything she needed.
She got into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The car purred to life. She let the top down and drove out of the storage unit, now empty, to begin the long journey to New Orleans.
Later that evening, Tommy came home to an empty house. He called out for Danaé, but she didn’t answer. When he couldn’t find her at home, he called her cell phone. He heard it ringing in the bedroom. Then, he noticed the note on the table. He smiled. He knew she wouldn’t go anywhere without letting him know. They had that kind of respectful relationship. They worried about each other and wanted to know about all the things that concerned each other. The boyish grin turned upside down as he read:
“Dearest Tommy,
I had to leave you. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what I must do. I made a commitment many years ago, long before I knew you or my grandparents. Now, it’s time to make good on that promise. Don’t try to find me. I don’t know what will happen after my responsibility and obligation is finished… I can’t make any promises, but I’ll send word when I know the next step of my journey. I’m sorry to leave like this and I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.
Thank you for loving me,
Danaé”
Chapter 11
Coroner Davis checked with Bright to make sure Vivien had recovered from the previous evening.
“She’s fine. You called it right; she was just exhausted and very grumpy. She promised to rest, but refused to take a few days off,” Bright confirmed.
Next, Davis called Vivien Simon asking her to stop by the morgue. His voice was odd and he wouldn’t say why he wanted her there. He only commented, “You’ll want to see this,” before ending the call.
When Vivien saw the tattoo on Randy Petrov’s forearm, she looked at Davis with curiosity. “Ok, is it like a gang tat?”
“There’s a whole lot more where that came from,”
Davis said.
“What do you mean?” Vivien asked, baffled by his mysterious comments.
“Well, let’s go back to the beginning. As we discovered last night, Petrov had the same mark on his chest as the Devereux woman. Hers was made with precision, as if it had been carved many times. It appears to be a signature. The mark on Petrov was done in anger. The cuts are much deeper, less perfect and merely mimic the other one.” He held a picture of the mark made on Sabrina for comparison.
“I agree; the marks are different,” Vivien slowly said feeling intense nausea again. She could feel her world careening out of control and took several deep breaths to calm herself.
“Bright mentioned earlier that I’d faxed a copy of the carving and the tattoo to a friend I made with the FBI while we worked on the Tchoupitoulas case. I just got a response before you arrived. The tattoo is Russian. So is the symbol.”
“What does the carving mean?”
“Best translation they’ve come up with is ‘victory.’ The Bureau has a slew of bodies marked with the same symbol, but they’ve never been able to track the source.”
“Were all the victims from New Orleans?”
“Some were, but there have been plenty in other locales too.”
“What’s the connection?” Vivien asked, already worried where it might lead.
“Vivien, what’s going on with you, I mean, usually you’re the one who connects all the dots and makes the leaps, the theories. You don’t seem to be on you’re A-game. Anything you want to talk about?”
“What? You think I’m off my game?”
“Well, I noticed it last night in the alley. I didn’t want to say anything then – not in front of Bright and the others. I’m sure that the Devereux case has you emotionally involved and rattled. Still, it’s not like you to miss so many important pieces.”
“I guess I am a little off, but I’d love to hear your theories,” she replied, trying to hide her real feelings and hoping that the dots didn’t lead back to Alec Winters.
“Maybe Russian mob? Someone put out a hit and Petrov delivered? Carved his signature on the bodies as proof? Take your pick. Who knows for sure? I only wanted you to see the similarities. It might help you with the earlier investigation.”
“Do you think Sabrina Devereux was a hit… that someone hired an assassin?” Vivien asked, worried that MeChelle DeLaurent was behind this.
Her mind was spinning as she considered everything. So far, she hadn’t shared that information with Bright or suggested that DeLaurent was a possible suspect. It would lead to too many questions about her own involvement. After all, DeLaurent had kidnapped Sabrina and Vivien had never reported it. She’d let Alec Winters handle it. And now, although Alec had rescued Sabrina, DeLaurent might not have let it go. The all points bulletin (APB) on DeLaurent hadn’t turned up anything. It was as if the man had disappeared. She’d never questioned Alec about that night. Maybe DeLaurent had tried again or maybe he had simply had the Goddess of Light murdered. Men like DeLaurent didn’t handle rejection well.
“I’m just saying that this appears to be Petrov’s signature. Besides, Randy Petrov wasn’t the only one that got payback. I have thirteen bodies from the fire last night! All were Russian gangsters, including their leader, Mikhail Ivanov, AKA, Ivan the Terrible. They all wore the same tattoo as Randy Petrov. This is turning into a nightmare.”
Vivien was stunned.
“Thirteen bodies from the fire last night,” she muttered. “All with the same tattoo, all connected to Randy Petrov.” Jesus, she mentally ranted, did Alec use that one strand of hair to track Natasha down on his own… did he make the connection from her to Randy Petrov to the Russian mobsters and then take out the entire organization? Trying to cover her trepidation and worries, she said, “I still feel a little lost. What are you making of it?”
Davis studied Vivien Simon closely. His wise old eyes could see that she knew more than she was saying. She was hiding something, and although she wasn’t very good at covering things up, she wasn’t going to admit what had her bothered. Still, Davis could tell she was rattled. He decided to give her all the help he could rather than scold her.
“I think Randy Petrov marked the wrong person and someone sought revenge on the entire bunch.” Davis responded. “It’s a working theory, but can’t prove a damn thing yet. Does it sound reasonable to you?”
“Oh my God,” Vivien whispered, but that’s all she said. She’d already suspected that as well. And it frightened her more than she could admit.
Vivien thought of her realizations last evening – Alec Winters’ eyes. The same eyes as in Catalina’s drawings. The eyes of Cat’s angel were the eyes of her brother. Vivien’s heart fluttered wildly and she felt dizzy again. Was Alec Winters the angel-demon? Had he avenged Sabrina and taken out the entire Russian organization on his own? If he had, just how powerful was he?
She was flooded with memories as she recalled the fear in Rusty and Jake’s voice the night they’d attacked her in the alley. She remembered Suzanne’s description when she’d followed Father Maddox and the boy from Café Amelia’s – huge, red devil, and towering over the priest – something right out of a story book. If Alec was both angel and devil, as she suspected, what should she do about it.
Vivien quickly left the morgue and headed straight to the Voodoo shop on Bourbon Street. She desperately needed to talk to Santeria.
Chapter 12
Santeria had been expecting Vivien’s visit and was anxiously waiting for her return. The priestess desperately wanted to see the angel’s sketch. Santeria motioned for Vivien to follow her and they went behind the curtained area together.
“Let me see it, please,” Santeria said with pent up anticipation. Vivien slipped the drawing out of a small flat folder and handed it to her. The priestess breathed deeply as tears streamed down her face. “Oh my God! This is really what he looks like? I’m so honored to see his image. What is it child? You act like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think I know his identity,” Vivien softly whispered. She was frightened and unsure about how to handle what she knew. She hoped Santeria could advise her.
“We’ll talk about that in a moment. For now, you need to read this. I made a copy of the prophecy for you,” Santeria hurried on. “It is forbidden to take the ledger from the temple, but you need to be aware of it, just as I needed to see the drawing. Reciprocity as we agreed, right?”
“Right,” Vivien replied as she took the folded paper Santeria offered her.
“Just as I cannot keep the sketch, you cannot keep the prophecy.”
“I understand.” Vivien unfolded the paper and read the fifty year old prediction.
“And, it shall come to pass that God, in His divine wisdom, shall provide an angel-redeemer to the people. Tried by fire, his light will save the tormented and redeem the innocent from hopeless despair. His angelic presence assures their prayers are heard. Likewise, this same vessel will manifest as demon-destroyer to punish the wicked. His voice, the sound of the mighty, will end the reign of terror over those unable to defend themselves. His terrifying and unholy image will destroy evil. Descended for this purpose, his ancestors also were chosen for this task. He is both angel and demon, but as a man, he is innocent of any wrongdoing for the Lord of All commands him. This recorded prophecy is testimony when it comes to pass. Let no man or authority bring harm to him for he is the Angel of God.”
“What does ‘tried by fire’ mean?”
“Tried by fire,” Santeria repeated. “It’s my belief that this angel-demon is special. His past spurs him to act aggressively, to be more proactive than his predecessor. Moreover, he’s been at this for more than twenty years so he is very good at what he does. So good, in fact, that I haven’t heard a whisper of his activities until you brought it to my attention. I don’t think anyone at the church knows about him either… if they had, Monsignor Abernathy would’ve made a point to find him… perhaps, even control him. Whatever trials he has en
dured can be traced back to that time. Isn’t it amazing? I’m hoping that your investigative skills can help discover what he has suffered, Vivien.”
“I believe I can answer that for you because, as I said earlier, I think I already know his identity, Santeria.”
“What are you saying?”
“You see, this sketch was drawn twenty years ago by the sister of the man I believe to be the angel-demon.” She hesitated, waiting for some response from Santeria.
“And you know how it all started, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happened twenty years ago to make him so special.”
“The person who drew this was only thirteen years old. Her father had sexually abused her, and when her brother discovered it, he tried to stop him. The father died during the confrontation and the brother was blamed for his murder even though it was obvious that the old man actually died of fright or a heart attack. The boy was ostracized by everyone, including his school. He lost a great deal even though he was innocent. He was later acquitted, but only because the sister confessed to the crime in order to save him. Many believe she was innocent, that they were both innocent, but the sister spent twenty years in the state mental hospital. I guess that qualifies as ‘tried by fire.’
“I’d say it does,” Santeria agreed.
“Still, now that I know everything I know, I have to wonder if the skirmish with his father was the beginning. Was it the first time he transformed to angel-demon? Did his father see him as a demon and die of fright? What do I do about it? He just killed fourteen men and a woman in revenge. I’m all twisted up about it, but…,” her voice trailed off.
Santeria took Vivien’s hand in hers and patted it. “Read the prophecy again child…‘he is innocent of any wrongdoing for the Lord of All commands him… Let no man… or woman either for that matter… or authority bring harm to him for he is the Angel of God.’ You understand what that means better than anyone, right?”
Harbor City (An Alec Winters Series Book 4) Page 5