Port City (An Alec Winters Series Book 3)

by Chariss K. Walker

  “Once, I investigated stories for the news, but now I work for Lieutenant Albright and consult on crime scenes for the police department,” Vivien said. Even though the sentences were spoken clearly and succinctly, Vivien spoke slowly, almost haltingly.

  “Yes, I know about the changes in your recent circumstances. You have made many adjustments lately. Go on child, I’m listening,” Santeria softly encouraged.

  “When I dug into Father Maddox’s past, discovering he was a pedophile, I reported it to my readership. I believe people have a right to know these things, terrible as they may be.”

  “One has to be careful though.”

  “That’s just it. I wasn’t cautious. My persistence and determination riled the Catholic Church. They wanted to stop me. They sent two men to kill me,” Vivien said and then paused to let that settle in.

  It was startling news to the priestess, but she didn’t outwardly react. Like Sabrina, Santeria maintained a calm façade in the face of all startling news. Even though she was well aware of the dangers to her guest, especially if someone from the church was after the young woman, Santeria didn’t react as she considered the information for a few brief moments and then nodded.

  Vivien continued, “I would be dead if the angel hadn’t intervened. He saved me too. He saved me just as he did the little girl in Jackson Square.”

  “He protected you from these dangerous men? Men that were sent to kill you by the church?” the priestess inhaled sharply, now unable to hide her surprise.

  “Yes, he protected me and destroyed them.”

  “Ooo-wee child; that was an act of bravery f’sho. The church doesn’t take kindly to interference. His actions might have turned their attention from you to him! You’re sure it was an angel?” Santeria asked.

  “Oh, yes; I’m sure. I’m also sure that the same angel protected Penny Worth and several others.”

  “There are more? More people he has protected?”

  “Oh yes. Several more. Although, I can’t reconcile an angel murdering someone, even men as evil as Mark Worth and the bastards who tried to kill me, I am certain he stopped the attacks. He stopped the stepfather from harming the child further. He stopped the men trying to kill me in an alley. If you’re right,” Vivien said with a catch in her throat, fearing that her protector might be harmed, “I suppose the angel can protect himself just as he protects others. Besides, I don’t think they’ll want to come after him. Not after what I saw him do.”

  “Tell me everything,” Santeria urged, “but first, tell me what he looked like.”

  “He was the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I don’t use that term lightly. He was in the shape of a man, but the brilliant light surrounding him hid his features. His wings were huge and white. It was amazing Santeria. It was the most astonishing event of my life.”

  “What else can you tell me about him?” the priestess asked, trying to manage the thrill of excitement she felt.

  “When he spoke, I heard lovely sounds mixed inside rumbles of thunder. It was smooth and creamy, reminding me of milk and honey. Does that sound too strange and unbelievable?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Please continue,” Santeria encouraged.

  “My investigative nature kicked in and I tried to absorb everything I could as a witness. Still, I wasn’t able to get very many details. He seemed to be a man, but the light disguised his true form.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that earlier. Did you see his face?” the priestess impatiently asked. She wanted more details and could hardly wait to hear them.

  “I only saw his eyes…they were blue and surrounded by an ocean of light. Still, they were clear-blue, kind and loving. I’d have to say it was his most distinguishing feature other than the wings.”

  “Wings?”

  “Yes, he had beautiful white wings.”

  “Is that all you can remember about his description?” Santeria asked, trying to hide her disappointment. The description wasn’t any more detailed than what the child had described. Santeria wanted more; she needed more.

  “Like I said, even trying to look at everything as an investigator, I wasn’t able to gather many details about him. I think he is protected in some way. I believe that those he saves from harm aren’t allowed to see more. Believe me when I say that I tried very hard to get a physical description.”

  “Of course you did, child. Still, there’s more, isn’t there? You want to tell me more about the situation. Something has you confused and troubled,” Santeria intuited.

  “Yes, there’s more. I can’t seem to reconcile the dichotomy of it. He saved me, but destroyed the men. It’s difficult to resolve. Angels are good and they protect humankind. It’s very hard to imagine that an angel could kill, especially in the manner in which these two men were murdered. It was one of the most gruesome crime scenes I’ve witnessed.”

  “He did protect you, Vivien,” Santeria soothed.

  “Yes, he did. I saw him as my protector, but the men sent to kill me saw something entirely different. They screamed and cried out in fear and terror. I heard one of them scream, “Get away from me, devil. Stay back, Satan! You won’t get me! I have absolution for all my sins. Stand back!”

  “He appeared as both angel and devil,” Santeria mused.

  “Yes, both of the men reacted that same way. It disturbed me that they saw my angel as a devil. I saw light while they only saw darkness. When they released me from their grasp, I ran toward that light, but they wanted to run away. They were too frightened to do so and then…well, it was simply too late. He killed them. He slaughtered them. What do you make of this, Santeria? Have I lost my mind? Is this not the strangest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “I agree that what you perceived is hard to explain, Vivien. Have you told anyone else?” Santeria asked gently, wanting to get as much information as possible before sharing any knowledge she had.

  “To be honest, I’ve been looking into this for a while. It felt like serendipity that Lieutenant Albright hired me as his consultant shortly after the incident in Jackson Square. The child’s account of an angel ignited something in me. Even before I’d had my own life-threatening experience, I searched the police records for anyone who had given an account similar to the one given by Katie Worth’s daughter. I found quite a few. Most were willing to talk to me. Of those, there was a similar theme in their witness statements: Something or someone had rescued them from a terrible situation or fate.

  “Oh my!”

  “Yes. In addition, after my own encounter, I returned to speak to each of them. We have formed a support group for those who’ve had similar experiences.”

  Oh my God – A support group? Santeria imagined many faces in a large auditorium. She had never anticipated there were so many. She had never guessed that the Angel-Redeemer-slash-Demon-Destroyer from the prophecy had been on this course long enough to protect so many. She was addled. Confused.

  The first time she considered such a thing was after the Worth man died in Jackson Square. Vivien Simon had come to find out if Katie Worth’s appointment session had anything to do with her husband’s death.

  Santeria had a niggling, a tingle that it might be time for the prophecy’s fulfillment. But she hadn’t heeded her own instincts. She’d dismissed the notion as wishful thinking. She’d sensed the angel-demon had returned, but she wasn’t ready to believe it.

  Now, Santeria was overwhelmed that she’d almost missed it. She felt extremely guilty and remorseful that she hadn’t sought guidance about the prophecy earlier. She had no one to blame but herself. That smarted.

  From the stories of old, rescue by an angel was certainly not such a common occurrence. Back then, the angel-demon had intervened in perhaps fifteen known cases over a period of twenty years. There might have been others, but she had assumed he used his ability sparingly.

  Still, Santeria knew she should’ve opened her eyes to the fulfillment of the prophecy after the first visit with Vivien. She should’ve performed he
r own investigation. She had many contacts that could’ve shed light on such occurrences. She could have easily urged them to keep her informed. That was still an option and she promised to utilize it.

  Her thoughts returned to the questions that rattled around in her head. Why so many redemptions? Why now?

  Perhaps, this vessel, used as both angel and demon, was different in some way. Perhaps, he was more proactive and involved with a sturdier constitution. It would account for the numerous occurrences that Vivien proclaimed. Was he more comfortable with his role than the last vessel?

  Could this man, both angel and demon, have experienced something personal, something that propelled him into a more aggressive pattern? On the other hand, was it simply that the city was in a very bad way and overrun with vile, evil men and women?

  It was a lot to consider and Santeria knew she would need to seek spiritual guidance about the matter. For the time being, she returned her complete attention to Vivien and to the purpose of her visit, eager to learn all she could.

  “Where does this group meet?” Santeria nervously asked.

  “Oh, the members don’t meet per say. It’s an online group, Santeria. We don’t meet publicly. We meet in a chat room. In addition, each one has the option to remain anonymous. I suppose that I’m the only one who knows the membership by their real names. Still, each one creates their own username. That simple precaution keeps their true identity secret.”

  “How does this work exactly? Can anyone attend?” Santeria asked.

  “Latisha Miller, one of the first witnesses I discovered, started the online support group. She made some business cards and I hand out the cards to others who have had a similar experience. I let them know that the group exists, but it is their choice whether or not to attend. Their involvement is entirely optional, but so far, there’s been good response. Most want to talk about their experiences with others who understand. They need an understanding ear.”

  “This is simply amazing. I don’t know what to say at the moment.” Santeria acknowledged. She couldn’t actually explain why she felt relieved to know that it wasn’t a public meeting, but she sensed that it could be dangerous if knowledge of the group became well known.

  “The support group is designed for those who have had similar experiences and weren’t taken seriously,” Vivien continued. “It makes a person feel crazy to try to explain what they have seen – to give the police a statement when they don’t believe you. Such skepticism eats away at the victims.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “I suppose the best way to describe the membership is ‘believers.’ It’s also designed to give each of us a clearer picture. Talking about it helps us to understand what we saw or what happened. You see, Santeria, each one he saved only saw a glimpse or small part of him. Most saw the light and heard thunder when he spoke. Others saw blue eyes. Only a few actually saw his wings.”

  “It helps each one to make a more complete picture,” Santeria recapped.

  “Yes, it does. Remarkably, only one has seen him clearly in his complete celestial form. Even though she saw him over two decades ago, she sketches him even to this day. When I put all the witness statements together, the end result is exactly as she depicts in her drawings.”

  Oh dear Lord! This has been going on for twenty years and I’m just now discovering it! I must get involved! Santeria silently and self-critically screamed at herself. She was angered by her own lackadaisical response. She wondered how it was possible not to hear even a whisper of such occurrences!

  “It’s amazing to see the full details in a sketch,” Vivien continued, unaware of the battle raging in the priestess.

  “Do you have one of the sketches?” Santeria asked, trying very hard to keep the anxiety from her voice.

  “Yes, the family was kind enough to give me one.”

  “May I see it?” Santeria asked.

  “I don’t have it with me, but I’ll bring it by one day next week. The family requested that it not be photocopied, but I don’t see the harm in letting you see it.”

  “Has anyone seen him in demonic form?” Santeria quietly asked.

  “No; either fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the perspective, they don’t survive to tell what they saw. However, I do have the comments from a witness regarding Father Maddox’s murder.”

  “An account of seeing the demon?”

  “Not sure, but I’ll tell you what I know. A server at Café Amelia’s wouldn’t officially come forward, but she confided that she followed Father Maddox and the boy to the alley where the priest died. She thinks she saw both an angel and a demon in the alley.” Vivien stopped long enough to pull out her notes from the last interview with Suzanne.

  “Tell me, please,” Santeria impatiently encouraged as Vivien flipped through pages.

  “Hold on. Ok, I have it. At first, she only admitted to seeing a bright light. After further questioning she said, and I quote, ‘Most of the time, the bright light shielded the boy. But, for a moment there, when this light stood before Father Maddox…well, it looked like a devil. A big devil! He was tall, very large, and red. He towered over the short, chubby priest. It was surreal. I mean, my grandmother had a bible once that was filled with beautiful and sometimes scary pictures. Pictures of Moses parting the Red Sea. Of Elijah ascending in a fiery chariot. Stuff like that. There was a devil in that bible too. What I saw looked exactly like that picture, minus the tail and pitchfork. After the priest was dead, it was light again as it walked the boy down to Bourbon Street and to safety.’ I have to admit that I have begun to wonder if this protector is both angel and demon, Santeria. How could it be otherwise? Those he protects see an angel while those he punishes see a demon.”

  “I think my grandmother had that same bible,” Santeria wistfully mentioned. She wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge the last comments. She hoped Vivien wouldn’t mention it again until she’d had time to consider the implications. “That bible was lost in the floodwaters of Hurricane Betsy. It was only one of many irreplaceable treasures my family can never recover.”

  “It certainly made an impression on Suzanne.”

  As Santeria considered everything Vivien had shared, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t been privy to the knowledge of the angel-demon because of her own reticence. She had stubbornly withheld the knowledge.

  Perhaps, if she’d been more forthcoming about the prophecy, she wouldn’t be in the dark now. What goes around, comes around.

  She wanted to change her attitude now. Santeria determined to become more obliging and trusting. She took a deep breath and began to be more helpful.

  “Vivien, this is the fulfillment of a fifty-year-old Voodoo prophecy,” Santeria boldly stepped out on a limb with the best of intentions. “This angel-demon has been sent from God for this very purpose. I have no doubt that you will keep digging until you uncover the truth. However, even if you discover the man behind this redemption and punishment, you must protect his identity. It would be a grievous transgression to do otherwise. I need to read the prophecy again. When you return with the sketch, I will tell you more,” Santeria confided. “It is critical that you will honor the prophecy and protect the man’s identity. Will you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise,” Vivien vowed.

  “Even if it goes against your consultation for the police?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  “Then, I will share more during your next visit. Don’t forget to bring the sketch, please.”

  Chapter 7

  After Vivien left the Voodoo shop, Santeria excused herself and rushed out the door. She went to the temple and began to search the records for the prophecy. When she found it, she sat back on her heels, staggered. It read:

  “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.”

  “Tried by fire,” Santeria mumbled aloud. “So, it is true, this angel-demon is special. His past spurs him to act aggressively, to be more proactive than his predecessor. Moreover, he has been at this for more than twenty years. Amazing!”

  Santeria was elated when she returned to the shop. She was anxious to meet with Vivien again, hoping she would come back sooner rather than later. However, when a co-worker handed her a small envelope with a blood-red seal, the emotional high dissipated. Inside, a matching card read:

  “Any further communications with Vivien Simon will result in danger for you and your society. M”

  Chapter 8

  Meanwhile, when Vivien left the Voodoo shop that afternoon, she received a call from Lieutenant Albright, nicknamed ‘Bright’ by those closest to him.

  “As you know, I’ve been tied up with the FBI about the case on Tchoupitoulas for many weeks now.” Vivien could hear his excitement as he hurried on, “Now, that the Bureau has finally finished its investigation, I’m free again! I swear it feels like I’ve been released from prison. It’s time to get the squad back to work. Will you join me and the rest of the team for a celebratory drink at Sazerac’s?”

  “Of course I will,” Vivien agreed.

  “Everyone knows it’ll be a short and hasty reunion. With the high prices, one drink on a police officer’s salary is the limit. Still, Sazerac’s is a great place to share the good news that I’m back. It means we’re all back. See you there.”