by Jane West
Dark Angel
An Angel Novel
Jane West
All rights reserved by Jane West
Copyright © October 2012
Acknowledgements
My love for my family and fans are the inspirations that keeps me going. Thanks to my daughter who has been with me through thick and thin. Thanks to my fans and their wonderful reviews.
Give me a ladder and I shall climb.
Contents
Asylum
Time Lost
Unwanted Guest
See No Evil
Looking for Evil in All the Wrong Places
Strange and Eerie
The Promise
Men!
Defeat I Will Not Accept
Help
No Pain and Tell Me Again...What’s the Gain?
Miasma
Discovery
Hidden Treasure
Don’t Get Your Feathers Ruffled
Gifts from the Dead
Mardea
Blueprints to My Heart
The Tomb
Lost and Found
Regret Me Not
Jaloux (Jealously)
New World Order
The Bayou
What’s a Girl Gonna Do?
The Unpainted House
Babylon’s Fallen
Asylum
Sally made good on her threat. The Supreme Court of Justice found me guilty for the murders of my mother and her two boyfriends. Headlines in the news nationwide read,
Crazed Daughter Snapped
Teenage Girl, Stephanie Ray Collins, Turned Serial Killer Leaving Trail of Murders!
Despite my protest of innocence, somehow, the state had hard evidence against me. If you asked me, they pulled it out of a rabbit’s ass.
According to the State’s officials leading this witch trial, it was an open-and-shut case. I pleaded no contest to the charges by the advice of my crappy attorney, Bernard Valdez. He promised if I didn’t fight the charges, Judge Xavier LaMotte would show me mercy and likely give me a lesser sentence. I took his word for it against my better judgment, and I fell right into the devil’s hands.
As ironic as it sounded, the prosecution claimed that luck was on my side. Under the circumstances, living with an insane parent who murdered my father, the court appointed psychiatrist, Janet Dubrow, deemed me as someone who snapped a crime of passion, if you will.
As my fate fell into unrelenting hands, the State’s prosecution charged me as a juvenile for the murder of my mom’s boyfriend, Charles Dodson.
The judicial system finding a ten-year-old child capable of committing such a heinous crime, slicing a grown man’s throat from ear to ear, was inconceivable to me.
Charles stood a firm six foot four and weighed over two hundred pounds. The crime they charged against me was an impossibility. A child weighing less than a hundred pounds and less than half his height could not have carried out such a forceful assault.
The state somehow arrived at the conclusion that Charles died by a child me. Supposedly, the evidence pointed straight to me. At that point, I knew that the due process I’d read about or heard about wasn’t in the cards for me. There was nothing justice about this trial.
The state’s argument seemed weak and unrealistic. After eight years, the evidence miraculously appeared out of thin air. Supposedly, the prosecution had damaging evidence against me. The national news headline read that the police found a bag of my bloody clothes and the knife with my finger prints, stuffed away in Sara’s closet.
Funny, when I unpacked Sara’s closet, I never came across such a bag. That was because the bag never existed.
In fact, any imperative clue proving my innocence slipped past their dirty noses. My attorney, Bernard Valdez, the state prosecution, Laurent Marcos, and Judge LaMotte, ignored the fact that at the time of Charles’ death, I was at school sitting in plain sight, first row.
These outstanding pillars of society turned the other cheek and ignored anything that would’ve cleared my charges.
Apart from Edward Van Dunn, Bane’s uncle, I reckoned several members of the Illuminati were aiming for me. The hardest one of all to swallow was my mom, Sara, playing a part in this atrocity. She might’ve been good at keeping a crypt of secrets from me, but I knew my mother well enough to know that money was the motivation.
My stomach churned with bitterness every time I wondered how easy it was for my own mother to have thrown me to the wolfs for a few coins. Unfortunately for Sara, her diabolical plan didn’t save her life. She’d died before she’d gotten the chance to wallow in her wealth.
For the murders of Francis Bonnel and Sara Collins, my mother, I got off with an insanity plea. It could’ve been worse, knowing that little fact seemed to soothe the nightmares somewhat.
Somewhat.
The federal judge, Xavier LaMotte, sentenced me with no chance of parole to live the remainder of my life at Haven Hospital, located on the outskirts of Bayou L’Ourse, an insane asylum for the violent and criminally insane.
I was the youngest in history labeled a serial killer, the second woman charged as such. The first woman received the gas chamber. I suppose luck had my back in a very fucked-up way.
Then unexpectedly a dark cloud was lifted and my nightmare ceased. Or so it seemed. On my twenty-first birthday, the US Court of Appeals, the Fifth Circuit, overturned my conviction. I was exonerated of all charges.
A release order was set in motion, granting my freedom. All charges were mysteriously dropped. Though, I knew better than anyone, it was a crock of shit, but I’d take it to get out of this hellhole.
It was an early spring morning when the doors of the reformatory opened. A cool breeze tousled my tangled hair. The sun peeked just above the horizon.
I haven’t had a whiff of fresh air or a glimpse of the golden sun in three long years. I inhaled the fresh air and savored the sweet taste of honey.
I had no idea where I was going. There was no one to call. I was alone and abandoned but I didn’t care. I was free. I made my way, one slow step at a time to the exit gate. Movement was difficult and painful. Every joint in my body screamed with agony. I couldn’t say when the last time I’d taken a stroll. I wasn’t allowed outside my cell. Considering my daily dose of drugs, I wasn’t much for socializing, let alone sitting up or even standing without assistance.
I think the medical staff wanted me incapacitated. The staff feared they couldn’t contain me. After all, I was a danger to society and to myself. So, they kept me locked away in the dark, forgotten and away from everyone. It felt as if they were hiding me.
The gentle sun felt soothing against my pale face as freedom caressed my dry, cracked lips. When my eyes focused on a tall, dark, figure by the exit gate, I first thought my mind was playing tricks.
Hallucinations were no surprised. I was practically a breathing pharmacy. Majority of the time, I stayed in a state of confusion. Discerning between reality and illusion became hard for me. Dr. Phil Good made sure of that. It wasn’t hard, void of thought and desire. I was a dead girl inside. I resented myself for not having the guts to stop breathing. I wanted my life to cease. I just wanted to check out and never wake up.
Yet, something in the back of my mind kept knocking me back to life or at least forcing me to breath.
I was stuck on this demented carousel, a merry-go-round of insanity, and I was never getting off either. I knew who was responsible for my unlucky fate. I didn’t have to have my palms read to know. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out either.
This was the work of the Illuminati.
Was any of this real? Did Aidan and his treacherous charms trick me into believing a lie a gene
tically altered angel? I scoffed at the absurdity. Could I have imagined him and like my mother be insane?
It didn’t matter now.
No. I might be insane like my mother, but even a lunatic couldn’t have conjured up this tale. The cold hard facts was that I was a gullible girl who fell in love with a charmer who played a very cruel joke at my expense. I fell right into his trap. I hated Aidan Bane DuPont but I hated myself even more.
In a fucked up way, my rage toward him kept me alive. If that was what I was, then breathing didn’t prove life, not in my case.
Then my world took a turn. Funny, how quick a federal ruling could get overturned by the flick of a Bic? For three years, the Federal Judicial System marked me as a menace to society. They were determined to keep me locked away forever, until my twenty first birthday.
I had awakened that morning with papers slapped in my face. I’d been acquitted of all charges.
Like a domino effect, everything started to fall into place. The prosecutors filed a motion to drop charges based on the assigned shrink’s testimony that I’d shown great improvement through treatment. Strangely, I couldn’t recall one time speaking to the good doctor. However odd and peculiar as it sounded, the Louisiana Board of Pardons and Paroles dismissed the charges, claiming that I no longer posed a danger to others or to myself. It was uncanny how conveniently they arrived at their decision this late in the game.
To put it plain and simple, the Board knew and I knew that it was a farce I was framed. I was putty in their vile hands and there was nothing I could’ve done to have stopped them. Not even an angel had that kind of power.
Whenever the Illuminati came for you, they buried you so far under that there was no point of return until they decided otherwise. They called the shots. If the Illuminati wanted you dead, you were a goner. They played God because they were God.
As I approached the exit, I spotted a tall figure watching me. The glare of the sun blinded my sight. I could only make out a silhouette. It was not until I came into focus that my cloudy mind began to open like tiny drops of water to a dry flower. Slowly his face came into view.
Suddenly I froze. My knees nearly buckled under me. At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks. But no, he was real. I thought I had lost everyone.
“Chile, it is so good to see you!” Jeffery held out his caramel arms.
I stopped for a second, taking in the sweet vision. “Jeffery, is that really you?” It was all I could say.
“You damn straight it is!” He smiled brightly.
I dropped my small bag and shuffled into Jeffery’s arms, melting against his warm chest. His arms squeezed tight around my shoulders, holding me close. Tears began to stream. “I can’t believe you’re here!” I feared since the charges, everyone had abandoned me. After all, I was a serial killer, a danger to society.
“Aw, boo, I could never desert you. How you are?” Jeffery’s forehead lined deep with worry.
“I’m better now,” I croaked through tears, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands.
“Gurrrl, you’ve gotten so skinny!” Jeffery held me at arm’s length, eyeballing me from head to toe.
“Food was kinda sparing in there.”
“To see you like this just breaks my heart, boo.”
“I thought you’d”—my voice cracked—“forgotten me.” I tried to hold myself together.
“Honeychile, Dom and I have been tryin’ to help you since the day they put you in this mofo place. We even hired the best attorney money can buy.”
“Really! I had no idea.” Shock surged my frail body.
“It was a nightmare. Dom and I were denied visitations. In fact, we were banned from the premises.”
“Why?” I didn’t understand.
“That’s what we tried to find out. Our attorney couldn’t get anywhere with those rascals!”
I softened my voice. I didn’t want any of the hospital’s staff to overhear me. “They set me up, Jeff.” I licked my dry lips. “I didn’t kill anyone.” Those words hadn’t caressed my lips since that day Aidan and Sally had drugged me.
“Honey, I know you is innocent. And apparently, you must have a fairy mofo godmother cuz someone very powerful pulled some ironclad strings to get you released.”
“What? They told me I was getting off for good behavior.”
“Gurrrl, you’ll believe anything. No insane murderer who’s killed several mofo folks ever gets off for good behavior. Boo, did theys assigned you a parole officer?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Of course they didn’t! ‘Cuz they know you is innocent.” Jeffery’s face crinkled into a wake-the-hell-up smirk.
“I guess I’m a bit out of touch.” My sluggish brain had trouble processing all this.
“It’s okay, boo, you is comin’ home with Dom and me.” Jeffery patted my back.
“Oh, I can’t impose.” I shook my head in protest. Although I was homeless, dropping my troubles on my friends was a liability I couldn’t allow. If the Illuminati had enough power to incarcerate me for crimes I didn’t commit, then they might go for round two? Which meant anyone I associated with could become a target as well. I couldn’t let that happen to Jeffery and Dom.
“Gurrrl, did I not tell you, you is family?”
I scrunched my nose up, “Jeff that might not be a good idea.” I stepped back, shaking my head. “Wherever I go evil follows.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Now you is actin’ cray-cray! No mo lip. You is comin’ to live with Dom and me.” Jeffery rested his hands on his hips with that divatude that only he could do. “I never say a damn thing I don’t mean. So come on! Your home is our home. No, really. I ain’t lyin’. It’s yours. You paid for the house.”
“What?”
“Remember the key you gave me?”
I just stared blankly.
“Anyway, boo, you is rich, a billionaire times a billion! Mister Aidan made sure you could own the world.”
“Wait! I have money?” My words felt like an echo.
“Uh-huh, and that’s an understatement! Now come on. We is goin’ home. I’m hungry. Dinner’s gettin’ cold.”
“Home! Where do we live?” I tried to push through the cobwebs shrouding my brain.
“Baby, New Orleans! Where else is there?” Jeffery grabbed my small bag as I latched onto his arm.
Home Sweet Home
When we rolled up into the drive of our home in Jeffery’s Lincoln, my eyes froze. Stammering over my words, I spoke, “This this can’t be our house!”
“It sure is. We live in style. There’s no better place than the Garden District.” Jeffery bubbled with pride. “I told you, les bons temps rouler!” (let the good times roll!)
“I hope so, Jeffery. I truly hope so.” I endeavored to put on a happy face, but in the core of my spirit, my glee had taken absence. I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer. I wanted to believe better days were ahead.
Nevertheless, despite my good intentions, I had my doubts. I might be physically free but my heart still was shackled. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover. I reckoned time would tell.
I blew out a raspy sigh as the memories of that day rushed through my mind. Sally’s sick laughter still lingered in my ears as much as the sting of Bane’s arms wrapped tightly around my body.
To this day, my brain seemed riddled with holes. And because of that, the seeds of doubt were planted, giving me pause to Aidan’s involvement. My captor’s cowardly face remained obscured while his hand bared a diamond ring—the very same ring that haunted me in my dreams ever since I was a child.
Then everything went black, and my life came to a screeching halt. That was my last memory of that shattering day. When I’d awakened, shackled, I realized that my happiness had ended abruptly—forever.
***
Jeffery parked the car in the garage and cut the engine. He then turned to me with his bright face, “This is it!”
“Huh, what?” I stared at Jeffery as though his vo
ice sounded muffled like under water.
“Stevie, you sure you’re okay?” Jeffery eyed me with concern.
“I just need rest.” The strength I once had seemed to have been depleted. I reckoned when the drugs washed out of my system, I’d feel better. Even still, I doubted the old Stevie, full of piss and vinegar would return. She died the day Aidan and Sally had taken her captive.
I reckoned I’d have to deal with that later.
Now I had to face the hard facts. I paid a heavy price for my faith. As a result, the only thing I understood was revenge the air I breathed. Torment was the fuel that kept me going. Anger was my inspiration. Yet the force beneath my feet was rage.
If I were smart, I’d move on. With the wealth that had been kindly bestowed upon me, I should make a new life for myself, leave the past in the past. Nevertheless, no amount of money could buy my way out of this baleful maze.
My gut kept telling me that Aidan’s family wasn’t finished with me. After all, I took their precious chance of world domination by infusing my powers with Aidan. I prayed my instinct was wrong. I wanted to be done with them, once and for all.
A gnawing memory kept tapping at my mind, a flash of visions I couldn’t recognize. It felt as though I’d forgotten something, but what? Could it be another bad memory of that hospital locked away in my drug-hazed brain trying to dig its way to the surface? If so, I preferred for it to remain buried, or even better—dead.
“Okay, let’s get you in the house.” Jeffery came to my side and opened the door. He gently slid his arm around my waist and eased me out of the car. I guessed I was weaker than I thought.
“I’ll have Dom fix you something good to eat. You startin’ to look more pale, even for your white lily skin.” He smiled sweetly, but by the bags under his eyes, I think he could’ve used some of his own advice.