Aubrey stands in the middle of the living room, Emily’s analysis hitting home. One more rule. One more infringement upon her liberties as a living, breathing woman with physical, emotional, pure biological needs. One more experience she will be expected to forgo to protect herself and others, while responsibly maintaining her Vigilare status. She looks to Marks, who already has her in his sights. With an apologetic expression, her eyes fall to the floor. Emily turns away from everyone, making a beeline for the front door.
“Emily,” Dr. Ryan pleads, restrained by the comforting, guiding hand of William Truly, petitioning her to give their daughter some space. Aubrey follows quietly behind Emily, the two ultimately united. The door closes behind them. Dr. Ryan turns into William Truly, her body language pleading.
“It’ll be alright,” he comforts. “They just need a little time, that’s all.”
Remembering they are in the presence of others, she quickly retracts from her vulnerable position. “What do you suggest we do, Detective?” Tony looks at her taken aback, confused by her invitation for his advice. “I agree with you. She’s not going to surface until she’s ready. And I’m sure she doesn’t exactly have the greatest trust in me, given the immediate situation.” She looks to him, sincerely interested in his input.
Tony exhales, briskly wrenching his hand about the back of his neck, contemplating. “Well, first, you gotta level with me. I mean, what’s at stake here? And why does she think her dead husband is alive?” He pauses, troubled. “Is he?”
Dr. Ryan and Dr. Godfrey share a concerned glance. “It’s our belief,” Dr. Ryan begins, “that ETNA has somehow created an imposter of Gina’s deceased husband, Lon.”
“ETNA?” Tony asks.
“You remember ETNA Division, the government’s equivalent to Sector 5,” Dr. Godfrey helps him out. “They deal in the supernatural. They’re quite illusive.”
“You mean Dr. Shaw? The guy that testified at Gina’s trial. That ETNA?” Tony recalls.
“Yes. That ETNA. However, Dr. Shaw is dead,” Dr. Ryan clarifies. “He died at the ravine. The tire tracks on the bank left by the black Sedan that you were so curious about…that was Dr. Shaw’s.”
“ETNA. Dr. Shaw caught onto Gina,” Tony deduces, his eyes wild with newfound motive. “Gina was right. The son-of-a-bitch hoarded her blood and lied under oath to protect his own agenda.” Tony scratches his head. “But if Shaw’s dead, what does ETNA want with Gina? Is the whole damn sector dirty?”
“It would seem so.” Dr. Ryan shrugs her shoulders.
“Imposter?” Tony paces the kitchen floor. “She said something…back at the hotel. About a man she met downstairs…at the ball…with a spider web tattoo, eyes like hers…only red…and hot, burning.”
Dr. Godfrey’s face grows fervidly alarmed.
“Ah, no,” Tony growls. “Don’t tell me this is another unexpected curve ball in your research.” Tony leans over the table, his arms propped and flexed, his head hanging between his shoulders in deep thought. “Spider web tattoo? Spider web tattoo? Where have I heard that?” His head jolts upright. “Gina’s visions. She told me about a guy with a spider web tattoo on his neck.” He cocks his head to the side, his deductions not quite adding up. “DeLuca doesn’t strike me as the type to marry a guy with a spider web tattoo on his neck.”
“Manny Briggs,” Dr. Ryan comes to his aid. “Manny Briggs has a spider web tattoo on his neck. He’s the man from her visions.” She exhales heavily, looking to William Truly who nods his head affirmatively, coaxing her to divulge more to Tony. “Gina used to be a lawyer. Her name was Brianna Castille, married to Lon Castille. Their son…Braydon.”
“The boy from her visions,” Tony adds.
Dr. Ryan nods. “As Brianna Castille, attorney, she prosecuted Manny Briggs and his partner, Angelo Tulane for the rape of three women. The jury convicted the men. Upon their parole, they stormed her home in a New Orleans suburb.” Dr. Ryan winces in preparation to tell the rest of Gina’s story. “They tied her brutally beaten husband and her son to chairs at the foot of her bed, heinously raped her, and left all three of them for dead.”
Tony’s teeth grind at the picture Dr. Ryan paints. “And that’s where you come in?” He eyes Dr. Godfrey direly. “The mad scientist. The intricate combination of her blood mixed with her husband’s and her son’s, making her immortal.” He pushes off the table, his posture now erect and intimidating, blood forcefully pumping through his veins. “She…Gina…said his eyes were like hers…only red.” Tony’s words are matched with footsteps in Dr. Godfrey’s direction, who back-peddles, his pace far outmatched by Tony’s. Tony grabs him up by the collar of his white lab coat, harshly planting his back into the door behind him. “Immortal, is she?” he seethes.
“Detective!” Dr. Ryan summons, her voice astir.
“Sarge,” Marks pleads as he and William Truly avidly work to remove his hold from Dr. Godfrey’s windpipe who gasps for air, his face turning blue.
Tony releases his grip, his chest heaving up and down as he stalks circles in his living room. Dr. Ryan assists a coughing Dr. Godfrey into the recliner. Marks and William Truly remain in position at the door, eyeing one another should their loyalty be tested.
“How’d you get her to go along with this?” Tony contemplates, circling fervidly, surely leaving patchwork in the carpeting. “How’d you do it!” he barks.
“Manny Briggs,” Dr. Ryan snaps, kneeling to Dr. Godfrey’s aid. “Gina agreed on one condition. We go after the men who killed her family.”
“So, there could be two of them? Red-eyed imposters…Vigilares…whatever the hell you wanna call them,” Tony fumes.
“Only one,” Dr. Godfrey adds, clearing his throat. “According to their medical records, Manny Briggs is the only compatible option. The only one with O-negative blood.”
Tony starts for him, still infuriated. Dr. Ryan stands in front of Dr. Godfrey, her arm outstretched defensively. Tony shakes his head in contempt, swiftly diverting from his trajectory. “You told me I was incompatible, too. Remember that, Doc?” he sneers. “Why the hell would ETNA use a convict? Unless they’re gluttons for mayhem.” He continues pacing.
“They’ve employed Briggs because it’s the only card they hold to ensure Gina’s participation,” Dr. Ryan clarifies. “Bottom line, ETNA wants her, no matter how they have to go about getting her.”
“Why is she here in the first place? In New Orleans?” Tony asks.
“Briggs and Tulane. They were lifers at the Louisiana State Pen. Serving sentences for the murder of Gina…Brianna, her husband, and her son,” Dr. Ryan begins. “Gina was ready. Aubrey and Emily were ready. They trained and rehearsed for months. I found a way to get them verified…as prison guards. Manipulated a transfer for Briggs and Tulane. Everything was in place,” she talks herself through the steps, still disappointed she could not deliver. She shrugs. “ETNA got to them before we did.”
“Has your station been compromised?” Tony directs his question to William Truly inquiring about the compound.
“Tight as a drum,” he ensures.
“She has to have eyes on her,” Tony says. “How else would they know she was at the masquerade ball?”
“The compound and its perimeter are locked down. Anything outside of that is a risk. Gina knows this,” William Truly defends.
“They had time to track her,” Dr. Ryan inserts, “from the prison in Angola to her return to New Orleans. If ETNA got to Briggs and Tulane before we did, surely they have eyes somewhere at the penitentiary. And what better place to play out their façade than at a masquerade ball.”
Tony shakes his head. “But wouldn’t Gina know the difference? I mean, I get the mask, but wouldn’t she feel a difference?” He stops, thumping his hand against the left side of his chest. “In here? Between her husband…ah, deceased husband,” h
e clarifies uncomfortably, “and an evil son-of-a-bitch?” He turns circles yet again. “DeLuca has great instincts. I’ve seen her in action. She would be able to read that.”
“Ahem,” Dr. Godfrey beckons, continuing upon a tolerant glance from Tony, “Vigilares can sense one another. It may not be clear necessarily, especially with this being her first contact with the Hell Hound. However, there would be some level of assimilation, which may have been misconstrued by her subconscious as a familiar or likened experience.”
“Accompanied with a deep-seated desire to believe her thought-to-be-deceased husband is, in fact, alive, could make for a very intriguing and believable perception,” Dr. Ryan adds. “We’ve all lost people in our lives. Imagine the hope of reconnecting with them.”
Tony looks at them disbelieving.
“How do you think you found Gina? At the masquerade ball?” Dr. Godfrey prods knowingly.
Tony shrugs. “Marks radioed me.”
“Ok,” Dr. Godfrey agrees. “How do you think the glass broke in your hand?”
Tony’s eyebrows flinch. He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Emily,” Dr. Godfrey sheds some light.
Tony’s mind recalls the events, replaying it slowly. Emily’s fist slams down sharply on the table proceeded by a loud Pop! The glass shatters in his hand, the shards fall to the floor. He looks around the room accusingly, wondering who else is among her company.
“Just Gina, Emily and Aubrey,” Dr. Ryan answers his unspoken inquisition. “And…well…apparently you.”
Dr. Godfrey’s eyes light up as he leans forward in his chair gaping at Tony. “What happened when you and Vigilare…Gina, came into contact at the masquerade ball?”
“The freaking Fourth of July!” Marks interjects, unable to quench his exuberance.
Dr. Godfrey and Tony jerk their heads in his direction. “Go on,” Dr. Godfrey encourages, his round face beaming. Marks looks to Tony, whose expression begs explanation, giving him all the approval he needs.
“Fireworks, Doc. That’s what happened. You should’ve seen it.” Marks’ eyes widen with excitement. “They tore the place up. Shit was exploding and snapping and zapping. It was like TNT!”
Dr. Godfrey chuckles heartily, the wonderment of his busy mind explicit in his demeanor.
“Do you remember any of that, Detective?” Dr. Ryan inquires.
Tony shakes his head. “Not really. Just moments. Like a dream.”
“You will, my friend,” Dr. Godfrey consoles. “With a little work you’ll get there.”
“Did you say Hell Hound?” Tony ignores his encouragement, questioning his previous reference to the red-eyed Manny Briggs.
Dr. Godfrey nods, his expression sincere. “Red…dark red symbolizes fire, anger, rage, malice, wrath,” he takes his time, fully enunciating each word, driving home its definition. “ETNA is sending a very clear message. Are you familiar with Greek mythology, Detective?”
Tony looks at him perturbed, as if he should already know the answer.
Dr. Godfrey holds his hand up, bowing his head, accepting his foul on the play. “In Greek mythology, Hades is the god of the underworld. The devil, one may conclude.” He scrunches up his nose hoisting his spectacles nearer to his eyes as he situates himself closer to the recliner’s edge. “A Hell Hound is a hound of Hades, or a dog of Hell in the literal translation. They are the guards to the underworld, relegating who is sucked in and who is declined access. They have even been known to track down lost souls, the dead or the dying, and bring them to Hades. European lore can lead one to believe seeing a Hell Hound may be an omen of death.”
Tony rolls his eyes, tiring of the extravagant explanation.
Dr. Godfrey nods, acknowledging he will orient toward a more direct point. “As described in legends, Hell Hounds have glowing red eyes and supernatural abilities. They’re rarely seen, very phantom-like. They may appear as if out of nowhere and vanish with the blink of an eye. An elusive creature. Hell Hounds are associated with fire and often have fire or heat-based abilities.”
“‘They burned…so hot,’” Tony rehearses Gina’s sentiments aloud.
“What burned?” Dr. Ryan inquires.
“His eyes,” Tony says, starting up his incessant pacing. “How does this work? This Vigilare thing? How are powers defined, or relegated?”
“This is yet to be identified.” Dr. Godfrey shrugs. “It seems to be innate. A natural inclination. But that’s not proven. Only speculation,” he clarifies.
“That figures,” Tony huffs brusquely. “If your theory is correct, the natural inclination of a convict, a murderer, a rapist…” he searches for words to describe Manny Briggs’ characteristics.
“Pure evil,” Dr. Godfrey resolves.
Tony shakes his head. “And just exactly how does ETNA plan on maintaining control of such a beast?”
“Gina,” Dr. Godfrey concludes knowingly.
“Her natural inclination,” Tony deduces, abruptly ceasing his pacing.
Dr. Godfrey nods. “She’ll sacrifice herself.”
“That’s why she can’t be running off alone,” Dr. Ryan speaks up, concerned by Gina’s disappearance.
“I wouldn’t be worried with Gina’s whereabouts at the moment,” Tony advises. His focus shifts to William Truly. “You might wanna go find your daughter. And her sidekick.” He glances at Marks sensing his interest in Aubrey Raines. Dr. Godfrey smiles at Tony’s deduction, respectful and proud of his natural inclination.
“But Gina is the mark,” Dr. Ryan argues.
“It’s not a new concept, lady,” Tony devises. “How do you think mob bosses maintain control of their personnel?”
She looks at him with renewed understanding.
“Yeah,” he scoffs. “You should be familiar with the process. The same way you got Gina to go along with your scheme.”
“They go after the heart,” she says warily, her gaze falling on William Truly.
“Come on, Lancelot,” William Truly orders, rapping his hand off Marks’ iron chest plate and opening the door.
Jolting to attention, he barks, protesting the moniker, “It’s Marks.” Dutifully and hastily following William Truly out of the apartment, he reiterates, “Officer Sam Marks.”
Tony grabs his keys off the counter, heading for the exit.
“I’m coming with you,” Dr. Ryan balks. Tony stops at the door, his expression all the motivation she needs to stay put.
Dr. Godfrey pats her hand sympathetically. “Detective?” he calls. Tony taps his foot as if to say, Spit it out! “At the room, in the hotel, the masquerade ball…were you drawn to her?” he questions his connection to Gina.
“Like a moth to a flame.” Tony leaves ardently.
“He’ll find her,” Dr. Godfrey consoles, helping Dr. Ryan to a seat on the couch, unable to hold back a wide grin, his mind spinning with the wonderment of what’s to come.
CHAPTER 6
Detective Tony Gronkowski leaves his squad car parked at the end of the long, posh drive, setting out for the vast French colonial style home afoot. The moon hovers in the darkness, cascading its luminescence through imposing cedars, oaks and magnolias, the sparse light assisting his voyage. Distant peepers, as the locals call the indigenous miniature frogs, fill the calm Louisiana night with song. A screech owl sounds, claiming his territory, causing even the most audacious of detectives to scrunch up his shoulders, hastening his pace. Approaching the clearing, Tony’s confusion grows, his eyes assaulted with bright yellow in the form of CAUTION tape encircling the massive dwelling. His olfactory fills with the scent of smothered fire and smoke. As he closes in on the gutted, ramshackle structure he steps light and agile, alerted by the debris at his feet. He approaches an opening, what appears to have once been a window, peering inside. In th
e middle of the grand room, amongst the rubble and ash, stands Gina.
Her eyes closed, she is lost in a moment. “Hey Sugar, ugar, ugar, ugar,” Lon’s sweet sentiment echoes through the empty, fallen house. She spins swiftly, facing what would have been the front door, as Braydon’s voice reverberates, begging her attention, “Mama, ama, ama, ama.” Bou Bou’s warm, playful barks resonate. Laughter—Lon’s, Braydon’s and hers—amplifies times ten, filling up the spaces of her memory. “Goodnight moon,” Braydon sings. The image of Lon donning muddy boots while dragging a humongous Blue Spruce Christmas tree onto her fastidiously tended, all-natural wood floor causes her to smile, although at the time it garnered him a tender reprimand. The lovely memory muted by the startling sound of a shotgun blast, followed by Bou Bou’s whimpers and Braydon’s cries. She cups her hands to her ears squeezing vehemently, as if attempting to physically crush the images, the sounds, from her brain.
“DeLuca,” Tony begs her attention, calling her name for at least the tenth time.
She pivots defensively at his closeness, her collarbones moving up and down at labored speed, facilitating her rapid respiration caused by the shifting of her memories from exquisitely pleasant to disturbingly foul. “You should be more careful about who you sneak up on,” she warns softly, retracting her assertive body language.
He looks at her, his eyes overtly apologetic.
She shakes her head, disturbed at the whole lot of them for telling Tony her truth. “Don’t look at me that way,” she orders.
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