by Vivi Dumas
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Soul Catcher
2nd Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Vivi Dumas
ISBN: 978-1-936394-35-7
Cover art by Dara England
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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www.decadentpublishing.com
Soul Catcher
Vivi Dumas
~DEDICATION~
To all those out there who put up with me through the writing process; you know who you are. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me and to push me to the end.
Prologue
Lucifer crouched on the ledge of the observation deck of the Empire State Building like a medieval gargoyle frozen in time waiting to be released from its stone prison, overseeing his minions below.
The street was empty, quiet.
He had waited centuries for a power like her to surface, someone strong enough to do his bidding and succeed. She was special.
The cars approached and his opportunity arose. As the vehicles got closer, he waved his ebony talons and both lights turned green. Neither car had a chance to brake in time.
Wheels screeched. The Toyota slammed into the Mercedes. The crushing of metal ripped through the night’s silence. The sleek, black car rammed into a light post. Glass exploded and scattered across the street. The Toyota spun in the middle of the road like a child’s toy.
Angel Dias flew halfway out the windshield of her Mercedes, only the dashboard impeded her projection out the car, pinning her legs against warm leather of the seat. She lay plastered to the hood of her car unable to move while he observed the chaos unravel around her.
Lucifer leaned over the ledge of the building and smirked at the destruction he created. A familiar light appeared behind him.
“Up to your old tricks, I see,” the Light’s voice rumbled.
Lucifer glanced its way, his horns appearing for a second as he struggled to maintain his human form. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She isn’t yours to take.”
He shifted his head slightly. “You’re wrong.” Lucifer grinned a grin of death. “Her family has always belonged to me.”
The Light grew brighter, blending its soft aura with the illumination of the moon above. “Not all of them. She doesn’t know about her lineage.”
Lucifer shrugged. “Once faced with a big enough problem, humans always revert to their true nature.”
“You think she’ll call on you?”
“I know she will.” Lucifer focused back on the scene of the accident as the Light disappeared. He listened in to the activity below.
Sirens sounded. A paramedic jumped from the ambulance and ran towards Angel. Her face smashed against the black hood. Her legs remained trapped by the dashboard, restricting her movement. She groaned and reached her hand out to the paramedic, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. His touch grazed her hand. A soft cry caught in her throat.
“She’s alive,” he shouted to the other paramedic.
Chapter One
Angel reclined in her seat, closing her eyes, wishing the attendant would bring her another drink. Her mind was trapped in the reoccurring dream haunting her. She lifted her head, wanting to get up, but her body refused. As she reached for her rescuers, the dark shadow watched her from across the street. His skin sparkled under the streetlight. The intensity of his eyes drew her to him. His sinister grin warned of danger, causing her to turn away. The light faded as she grew too tired to hold up her head. The darkness called, whispering her name. She relinquished herself to its mercy.
She opened her eyes and sighed as a man in the pinstriped suit squeezed past her to get to his seat. First class was more her style. She hadn’t worked since the accident, therefore she settled for economy. The hefty guy in front of her smelled of beef jerky and stale cigarettes, and he leaned back on her lap as soon as the plane took off. Angel envisioned stabbing his fat, grimy neck with the heel of her Prada.
She turned and glanced across the aisle, where a red-haired woman pleaded with her daughter to be quiet. The brat had screamed for the last hour and a half. Angel prayed they would land before she snapped, taking out the kid and the fat guy in her lap.
“Mommy, whas wong wit her face?” The little girl with pigtails pointed at Angel.
“Shh...it’s rude to point at people,” her mother whispered.
“Mommy, is she a monster?”
Angel scoffed and stared ahead, trying to ignore the little girl. The same question crossed her own mind when she first viewed her face in the hospital after the accident and each time she stole a glimpse of herself in a mirror. People’s fear of her grotesque disfiguration consumed her existence. She slid down in the seat until her ass hung off the edge and pulled the Knick’s cap lower and her hair closer around her face. With her eyes closed, she drifted back to the first day she awoke in this nightmare.
“Ms. Dias? Ms. Dias, can you hear me?” an unfamiliar voice had called out to her. Excruciating pain had throbbed behind Angel’s forehead. A vise grip tightened at her temples as she struggled to focus on the person who beckoned her back to reality.
The next time Angel came to, the bright light above her bed blinded her. As her pupils adjusted, she scanned the room, noticing she was in a hospital, but how she got there was a mystery. Feeling around the bed, she found the call button and rang for help.
“Ms. Dias. Glad to have you back with us.” The white-haired male stood over the bed, flashing another glaring light into her face. “You’ve been out for a while.”
“How long?” Her parched voice cracked.
The cold stethoscope touched her skin, causing her to jump and pain to shoot through her body. “Hmm. Well, you’ve been with us for about a month.”
Angel blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Month? What happened?”
“You were in a car accident.”
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Angel asked, “Where’s everyone?”
Why was she in the hospital alone? She expected at least her family or Jackson to be there with her. Her mother and sister should’ve come up from New Orleans.
“Your sister went home a couple of days ago. She said to call her if anything changes. I’ll give her a call.”
Angel pushed the button and raised the head of the bed. The pounding in her skull increased as she sat up. She fumbled with the gauze, which may have been the only thing keeping her brain from exploding in her skull. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You went through the windshield and got cut up pretty badly.” The doctor began to unwind the bandage from her head.
Cool air whispered against her skin when he freed her from the constraints of the bandages.
“I want to see.” She stared at the concerned look on the doctor’s face.
“I’m not sure if it’s
such a good idea this soon. You need to gain your strength back.”
“I want to see now!” Angel’s throat burned when she tried to yell.
The doctor picked up the small mirror on the nightstand and handed it to her.
Trembling, Angel peeked at her reflection. When she witnessed the horror of her mangled face, she threw the mirror across the room, smashing it into a thousand pieces.
The sharp cackle that escaped Angel as she thought about the things she’d lost this year startled the guy in the pinstriped suit in the seat next to her. The laughing stopped the tears. Her whole world imploded on the night the drunk driver hit her. She hung her head, biting hard into her lower lip. The pain and the taste of blood were the only things keeping her from expelling the horrific scream trapped in her heart.
“Here.”
Mr. Pinstripe handed her a miniature bottle of Smirnoff. “I think you need this more than me.”
She stared at him, anchoring herself back into the real world. His warm brown eyes smiled at her, showing mercy. He played two roles. The starkness of his power suit and the lightness of his voice contradicted one another.
“Thanks.” Angel trembled as she gratefully took the bottle.
“They should ban them from flying.”
“What?”
“Kids. They shouldn’t let them fly. They’re a pain in the ass.”
Angel grinned. “Yeah. That they are.”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Are you vacationing or running?”
“Running. Can’t you tell?”
“Man troubles or family?”
Angel’s troubles traveled in packs. She stifled a cry, her mind once again wandering back over the past year.
She’d spent a total of three months in the hospital after the accident. On her release day, she’d sat on the bed with her bags, waiting for Jackson to pick her up. She curled in the small armchair, gripping her release papers, for two hours. No one ever showed.
The nurse walked in, a sad smile on her face. “Is there someone you want me to call?”
“I’ve left a couple of messages. He probably got caught up in a meeting.” Angel forced a smile. “Can you just call me a cab?”
“We usually don’t let people check out without having someone with them.”
“It looks as if I’m on my own. Please just call me a cab.” A tear fell down Angel’s face. The papers she gripped in her hand rattled as she shook.
The cabbie pulled in front of her building. He diverted his eyes from her face when she caught him staring. Angel handed him a twenty and hopped out the back. Her doorman refused to look at her, saying good morning to the ground. In the elevator, her upstairs neighbor and the lady down the hall whispered in the back. Angel pushed the button for her floor again, praying it would make the ride faster.
Inside her apartment, Angel closed the door and slid to the floor. Holding her head in her hands, she allowed the tears to flow. After pulling herself together, Angel glanced around the room. All of Jackson’s things were gone. He had moved out while she was in the hospital waiting for him.
Angel dug the vodka out the freezer and downed two Percocets.
Now she turned a tiny bottle over in her hands, wondering where the flight attendant had disappeared to. She could use some ice to go with the gin. Then it hit her. The worst scars were on the right, and this stranger hadn’t seen them. She leaned forward, as far as the seat back in front of her would allow, and twisted toward him. “Both man and family troubles. Look at me.”
He pursed his lips. “What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Life’s a bitch—”
“I’m a bitch, too, or at least I used to be. Falling from Diva status is hard. It’s like going from Nordstrom’s to the Dollar Store.” Her smile pushed at the edge of her scar. She held out her hand. “I’m Angel by the way.”
He eyed her. “You look familiar. Were you on T.V. or something?”
“Sometimes. Magazines mostly. I’m surprised anyone recognizes me like this.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I can tell you used to be beautiful. You said you were running. Wanna tell?”
“I haven’t talked about it to anyone. I’m not sure a stranger on a plane is a good place to start.”
“If talking to your family or your man had helped, you wouldn’t be here with me. Honey, I’m a gay civil rights lawyer—problems and drama are my business. Let’s have it.” He rattled around in his bag and pulled out two more little bottles, handing one to Angel.
She threw the fiery liquid down her throat. “I used to be a model until I got in the car accident last year. Now, I look like something from a carnival freak show.”
He shoved another bottle in her hand. She cracked it open, downed it, and cringed at the heat in her chest.
“No shit! You really did need to run away. Where’s your fam?”
“New Orleans. My mom’s draining what little money I have left and my sister’s busy trying to keep her out of trouble.”
Angel’s hands trembled, remembering the mess she called a life. Acid churned in the pit of her stomach when she recalled her mother dragging her from one plastic surgeon to the next.
“Sit up straight. Bad enough you look like a monster, I don’t need you looking like a slob, too.” Angel’s mom straightened her suit as they sat in the waiting area.
This one was a replica of the twenty others they had visited, bad wallpaper and uncomfortable chairs. Each time the answer was the same. “No, there’s nothing we can do.” Why should this time be different?
After the examination and review of her prior surgical records, the doctor crouched behind the massive desk and stared at her with pity in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dias. There’s nothing else we can do for you. You have had everything technology can offer. At this point, another surgery will only make things worse.”
“What’da you mean? You can’t leave her like this. She’s a model, not a fucking freak!” Her mother’s voice echoed in the large office.
“I’m sorry.” The doctor handed Angel the thick file she brought with her. “If there was anything I thought would work, I would try.”
“Thank you for your time.” Angel stood, pulling her mother up with her.
“We can find someone else,” Elise muttered.
Angel guided her by the elbow. “With what, Mother? You’ve depleted most of my money already. We’re out of options.”
The next day, when Angel awoke, Elise was gone. She’d tossed Angel aside like a bad pair of Payless shoes and hauled ass back to New Orleans.
After thirteen surgeries, the deep gash still mangled the right side of her face. Angel ran her fingers along the rigid terrain. The scar jetted from her temple to her chin, in twisted ridges like a 3-D topographic map. No more invitations from Vogue for her.
Angel turned to her new friend. “Enough about me. What’re you going to the island for? R and R?” Angel studied him, noticing his smooth skin and perfectly arched brows.
The corner of his mouth slid up to a sly grin. “Meeting my man. Every couple of months we try to get away and spend some time.”
“That’s nice. Why isn’t he flying with you?”
“We don’t travel together. He has other obligations to take care of before he comes.”
“Is he one of those workaholic types?”
Turning his head, he murmured to the window, “No, one of those married types.”
“Oh....” Another bottle appeared in her hand. She downed it with no trouble.
“Like we said, life’s a bitch.” The sadness in his eyes negated his smile. “So, Ms. Angel. What finally made you run?”
Angel shivered. She had stopped by the agency trying to find out about the check from her last shoot. As she rounded the top of the stairs, she caught Jackson in the hall leaning over Gisele and pinning her against the wall. They turned to look at her, and the girl giggled. Jackson kissed her on her neck, t
he same way he used to kiss Angel. She wondered how long this had been going on. Was he seeing her before the accident?
On her way home, Angel stopped for her prescription of Vicadin and a gallon of vodka. She poured a drink and popped two pills. Feeling nostalgic, she waded through the clothes in her closet. Angel slid on her best Dior gown and matching shoes and then pumped up the music.
Angel danced and drank. She awoke to the feeling of something cold and wet against her face. Her head pounded almost as bad as when she awoke from her coma. The room spun. She laid her head back on the smooth, cool object.
The next time she pried her eyes open, the room was dark. She sat on the floor of her bathroom with a half a gallon of vodka between her legs. She must’ve drunk the other half. And scattered about on the lid was the Vicadin she just picked up from the pharmacy. Resting her head on the cool porcelain of the toilet, she tried to forget the events leading her to hit her bottom.
She crawled off the floor. Steadying herself on the sink then holding on to the wall, she stumbled to the living room. Checking her cell phone, Angel realized she had been on a two-day binge.
Angel chuckled as the scene replayed in her mind. It scared her straight into something just as stupid. “I finally cracked.”
“You didn’t think to call a shrink?”
“Thought about calling Dr. Drew and see if I could get on Celebrity Rehab.” Angel gave him a sideways grin and felt the rugged edges of her scar. “I came to my senses and figured out I didn’t want a monster plastered all over T.V. Been there, done that. And watching your life fall apart in front of millions of people isn’t therapeutic.” She shook her head at her own bad joke.
Two more bottles rattled in front of her. “Last round. Then we sleep.”
She polished off her share and nestled back into the seat. The cabin of the plane spun slowly in her mind. She regulated her breathing to keep from getting sick. Closing her eyes, she visualized her new life, which closely mirrored her old one, fabulous. She wanted to shed the shards of the last year. Angel missed walking by the newsstands and seeing her face on the covers of Elle, Vogue, or Glamour. She craved the strong arms of a man wrapping her in safety. Even her mother pretended to love her then. Her heart remained an empty shell of her previous life. Out of options, she stepped into the realm of dark magic, risking her faith, sanity, and life, but nothing could be worse than the hellish nightmare she currently lived.
