“Not yet. Hold on and I’ll drag you to safety. Try not to talk right now,” Alec had replied.
He hadn’t found it odd that the enemy saw him as Satan while the man he worked on saw him as a celestial being. Nor was it the first time the ramblings of the wounded reported seeing angels on the nasty, bloody fields of death. The surgeons who patched them up had heard it all before. They chalked it up to the trauma of ‘near-death-experiences.’ It was a common occurrence in war zones.
Now, Alec grinned widely as he knocked on the door of Apartment B-Eleven, a posh condo unit. The door was flung wide and Sabrina Devereux rushed into his arms. At thirty-nine, she was still beautiful, still passionate and alluring after all the years since they’d first met. She was ageless and had the body of a woman much younger than her years. She was the epitome of a desirable French-Cajun woman with dark hair, olive eyes, and creamy, flawless complexion. At 5’ 8” tall, she was slender and fit perfectly in his arms, her head resting easily against his chest at shoulder height. Her very presence was healing, soothing to the angel-demon that drove him.
Sabrina quickly pulled him inside and closed the door. Her beautiful green and violet aura encompassed him as she threw her arms eagerly around his neck. They’d been high school sweethearts and the young love was as fresh today as it was twenty years ago. She was still the one. She’d been the soothing balm that had gotten him through many tough times, especially after the death of his father and the changes that the incident wrought.
He’d always returned to her and, so far, she was always waiting. Neither Alec nor Sabrina talked about or worried how long it would last or how it would end—they simply enjoyed each other when together and reveled in their bond of love. She knew his deepest secrets, had been there when the bloom forced its way into his life and then erupted into what it was today. She loved him anyway.
To Alec, it didn’t matter that she supported herself as a high-end escort. The job wasn’t only about sex; it was about a woman who met the needs of her clients. Sometimes the needs were simply a date for an important function. Other times, a powerful man needed a strong woman to listen and only listen without offering advice or criticism. Life was no longer either black or white to him. It was a job and Sabrina was excellent at it, working the richest men in the city and far beyond. Many of her clients came from all over the world to see the Goddess of Light. And, as a goddess, her nights were reserved weeks, even months, in advance. Days remained free for Alec and his family, having none of her own. He was her true love. Even if it’d been months since she’d last seen him, she kept each day open…just in case he returned.
Sabrina, an old soul and a woman of true insight and wisdom, saw the changes occurring in him long before he did. She witnessed the transformation from helpless, gullible teenager to mighty avenger. She could truthfully say she was honored to see the transformation firsthand. Well, almost firsthand. Although she could feel the power of the demon avenger beneath her fingertips, she’d never actually seen Alec in either the demon or angel personas. Still, she knew it was there. She’d talked to Cat before she was sent away. She knew that he was both angel and demon…and man. The man she loved and would always love. She’d given her heart to Alec when he was still a boy and blind. Now, that he was a man and his eyes were open, he was even more precious to her.
Sabrina had been alone since her freshman year at Tulane. That was the year her mother died; killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. After that, everything changed. Henry Devereux, her father, was never very stable anyway. After the death of his wife, he hit the slab face-down. Henry began to drink heavily and spent his time at Harrah’s. Miraculously, only a few months later, he was pulled from the brink of despair by Natasha, a woman twenty years his junior. She jolted him back from the depths of depression by introducing him to a brand new world of cocaine and ecstasy. And, she stayed around long enough to insist that Sabrina find another place to live. With no one around to keep watch, Natasha quickly cleaned out Henry’s bank accounts, including Sabrina’s college fund. No longer able to afford the good stuff, Henry began to drink his life away, trying to find that same high he’d once enjoyed.
Cassidy took Sabrina in and she lived at the Carrollton Street home for the next two years, but college was out of the question now. One of Henry’s close friends, David Bonnet, suggested that she use her intellect, beauty, and talent to support herself in the world’s oldest profession. She was offended at first, but after studying the ins-and-outs of the business, Sabrina discovered the secrets to becoming one of the most famous goddesses in the states. It wasn’t the clinical psychology degree she’d planned at Tulane, but she was fulfilled by the service provided. In a way, she was still a therapist. She listened. That was what most of the men she saw needed. David was her first client and, from there, she saw referrals only. She became known as the Goddess of Light. Living in the Crescent City with its mystical appeal only added to the allure of the persona she created.
Her father’s life came to a miserable end one night when he stumbled home and fell into a sewage drain that someone had left uncapped. For the first time, she was glad that her mother was dead and couldn’t see the way his life had ended. The family home, already mortgaged to the hilt, was sold at auction and, other than Cassidy, Cat, and Alec; Sabrina was completely on her own.
Sabrina no longer took new clients and was winding down the goddess business, slowly each year, eliminating all but a few of her most pressing clientele. She was careful and selective, using her own spiritual gifts to discern who was worthy of her time. She’d put away enough money, investing wisely, to live a happy life with Alec—one day soon. Now that he was retired and home for good, that day was even closer. Although, he was unaware of the changes she made, she was anxious and excited to put this life behind her and begin anew with him. She knew he’d be happy with her plans too. They were always closely attuned.
Sabrina had only one worry—a client that just wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Unlike most professional escorts, she didn’t have a network. There wasn’t a body guard or protector. She was a one-woman show with an answering service that arranged appointments and a car service that arranged transportation. She’d kept it simple and only accepted appointments on a previous client’s referral. Now, that she was cutting out old, established business, she wondered if that had been a good idea.
MeChelle DeLaurent had been in her client book for almost ten years now. He was fifty years old, handsome enough, and had never married. As one of the most successful and wealthiest men in the South, he could’ve had any woman he wanted. That was the trouble—he wanted Sabrina. He’d professed love and marriage time-and-again, but now that Sabrina was getting ready for her own retirement, he was more insistent than ever. He made appointments more often and had her followed. Even though she never saw clients in her home, he had discovered where she lived, showing up more than once uninvited. It was unnerving to say the least. She hadn’t told Alec about his stalking behavior and she hoped that she wouldn’t have to tell him. She hoped that she could handle it on her own. It wasn’t the first time that a client had become infatuated or obsessed with her. She’d successfully handled this on several occasions before and felt confident she would again.
Chapter 10
Alec was born and reared in New Orleans—often called more colorful names—Nawlins, the Big Easy, Crescent City, Mardi Gras City, NOLA, and now, the Resilient City, after surviving Hurricanes Betsy, Rita, and Katrina. His mother owned a home on Carrolton, inherited from her parents, Martin and Jazibella Saguache. It had been passed down for over five generations. Saguache translated to ‘blue earth or blue water’ and each family member of the bloodline had indeed inherited startling blue eyes.
The family residence faced the trolley line near the Garden District. It’s where Alec grew up with his parents, Buck and Cassidy, along with a younger sister, Catalina. It’s where he lived now. In the short time since his return from the army, he’d gotten a
job and taken care of pressing personal business. That included spending time with the three most equally important people in his world—Cassidy, Catalina, and Sabrina.
After leaving Sabrina’s, he went on a now weekly visit to the next most important person in his life. Alec stood at the doorway, looking down the long corridor that led to Cat’s room in the State Mental Hospital. Madeline, the regularly posted guard on that wing, greeted him with a lively smile.
“Hello Alec, back for another visit with your sweet, little sister? You know we still call her the ‘littlest chicken wing,’ right?” Mattie chuckled softly as she mentioned it again.
“Now, that I’m home for good, you’ll see more of me than ever, Mattie,” Alec replied, smiling at her reference.
“That’s right…Your retired now, aren’t you. You’re the most regular visitor any of these women sees, Alec. Don’t feel bad about that. Some of them haven’t seen hide-nor-hair of their families in years. I’d say your visits are considered exceptional, especially since you’ve been away serving our country,” Mattie encouraged as she unlocked the door with a security pass card.
Cat, short for Catalina, had been housed in the unsightly prison ward since she was thirteen years old, merely a frightened child. Declared criminally insane, she’d grown to prefer the isolation of the meager room allotted to her rather than living in the family residence. She was freed on occasion and allowed monthly day-passes to visit her mother, but each time released, she acted out or reenacted some horrible scene that sent her straight back to the safety that had become home for the last twenty-three years. The small, sparsely furnished room was where she felt secure and protected. It held no other reminders than those she sketched.
This particular wing housed only women, ranging in ages from eighteen to sixty-five. All had either committed or been convicted of some violent crime that forced their incarceration here and, deemed mentally ill or criminally insane, they were unsuitable for a normal women’s prison. Cat had been the youngest resident for many years, hence the nickname. The guards, orderlies, and nurses were all women too. During weekly psychiatric evaluations, the patients were seen in a common room with one of those orderlies or nurses standing by. It was one way the prison protected their female population from wanton male testosterone.
Alec was the only male allowed on the wing. He was the only one who could get Cat to open her door or coax her out of her safe-place for a visit. Although, Cat went to therapy sessions, waited with the other patients during visitation day, and took her meals in the cafeteria as directed, even Cassidy and Sabrina relied on the monthly visitations to see her. Conscious of the special privilege, he never took advantage of it, staying in the hallway where he was clearly visible to Mattie or any other guard on duty.
Now, Alec walked the corridor and stepped over the outstretched legs of a young woman sitting on the floor. She was talking to herself and the unseen presence that sat beside her. The presence, a woman in her fifties, stroked the inmate’s hair tenderly, trying to comfort her. The inmate rocked back-and-forth, again and again, pulling at her clothes as if entrapped. She wept intermittently between outbursts of incoherent words, troubled deeply by some experience or memory that refused to set her free. The action halted briefly, when he neared, and she gazed at him with clarity for a few fleeting moments. He nodded at both and, after he passed by, the previous actions began again and were repeated incessantly as she fell back into despair.
Mumbles, prayers, shouts and cries of misery could also be heard behind closed doors of the other rooms. As he passed by, the shouts and cries quieted. Doors opened softly to see him as whispers floated along the passageway, “Angel…Angel…Angel…An angel is here.” Some reached out to touch him with gentle, beseeching hands.
Alec moved along unhurriedly and continued on to his destination, undisturbed by the melee. He’d seen a lot over the years and the muttering of these women didn’t adversely affect or frighten him the way it did other visitors. He’d seen men die on and off the battlefield. He’d heard the pleas of violent men on their way to hell and damnation, terrorized by his image. He’d seen souls tortured by horrid memories. He’d seen spiritual warfare and spiritual phenomenon that most could never imagine. And, he’d seen children and innocents look on his face with adoration, recognizing him in angelic form.
Even family members of these women couldn’t face the sobering conditions of the overall insanity of this place. It scared them too much, forcing them to abandon their loved ones. Alec understood. He knew that each one here coped in their own way and their families handled the situation the only way they could too. It was clear that each soul dealt with the tragedies of their lives the best they could. Now, almost at the end of the corridor, he stopped, knocking softly on the closed door of his sister’s room.
“Cat? Cat love, it’s Alec. I’ve come to see you. Come, sweet little sister. Come; join me in the garden room,” he called out softly.
It was the same greeting he offered each visit; the only words that penetrated the haze of his little sister’s fog. He heard rustling, as she took time to put away sketches drawn in private…sketches of angels…sketches of him. Those drawings papered the walls of her room, surrounding her in that memory alone. She wanted, nor needed, any other.
If Alec had gone inside the room, he would have seen that Cat drew sketches of all those he’d saved. His story unfolded in the drawings plastered on the walls. Even without easy access to a television, radio, or newspaper, his sister ‘saw’ her angel redeemer save the lives of the innocent. Their faces were shown as clearly as the angel’s who saved them. Jenny Worth was the most recent addition. Cat had drawn the angel kissing the young girl’s brow a full two weeks before the incident in Jackson Square. She was either psychically attuned to the victims or Alec, maybe both, but nonetheless, she knew of those he saved. It was that very sensitivity to supernatural forces that labeled most of the women in this prison as insane—seeing into other realms causes one to appear crazy. Cat currently worked on the drawing of a young boy; he walked next to and held the hand of an angel in a darkened alley.
“Oh, my angel…is it really you? Have you come to cast your light on me again?” she called out joyfully behind the closed door. Always the same response, before the door was flung wide and she rushed into his arms. “Oh, it is you! I knew I’d see you again. I knew you’d come back.”
Cat cried against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her slight frame, holding her securely. She shivered from the gentle electrical touch and exalted in the comfort of the white wings that encircled her. He held his little sister close as she sobbed and mumbled words of gratitude for his intervention, for saving her and the others who needed him. It was always on her mind and not very far from his thoughts either.
After the crying was done, Alec took her hand and led his sister to a porch filled with the fragrance of flowering plants. There, with the sun streaming through the windows and surrounded by lovely bouquets, they sat quietly, holding hands. They rarely talked when he visited. She didn’t ask for updates on the world or family outside these walls. She didn’t care. She had everything she needed or wanted sitting beside her and in her own small cell.
Chapter 11
Cat’s hair was almost white-blond, long and unkempt, but beautiful in its disarray. It framed her delicate and childlike face in a halo while hanging almost to her waist. Her eyes were also aquamarine—a trait they’d inherited equally from their ancestors. Cat was a small, prepubescent woman, barely five feet tall, less than a hundred pounds, stymied by the early abuse of a wicked, deranged father. She was still a child, innocent and pure.
Alec had seen this changed-development in other abuse victims. It was common for the sexually exploited to manifest an outward appearance or physical manifestation for protection. Sometimes, they grew bigger, adding layers of fat as a means to insulate themselves. Sometimes, they remained small and immature for self-preservation, hoping to lose the sexual appeal that had attracte
d their abuser.
Cat had taken the latter course. She hadn’t grown at all or matured in any other ways since that night—that night which had precipitated her arrival here. If she’d been outside these walls, she would’ve soon realized that the immature appearance was the very thing that attracted pedophiles. They desired small children more than anything else. Small children were pure and light. The darkness of the pedophile’s soul desired to consume that light. It was the closest they could get to God’s light. But, his sister had been here a long time and she had no way of knowing these things. He always referred to her incarceration here as ‘that night’…That night so long ago…that night had changed three lives forever. Alec relived it now as he did each time he visited her.
Their father, Buck Winters, had come home drunk again and, in that inebriated state, he went to Cat’s room—to force her, to molest her, to abuse and pervert her. Alec, a senior in high school at the time, got home five minutes after his shift at the local grocery ended. As soon as he entered the front door, he heard his sister’s hysterical screams coming from her bedroom above. His mother, Cassidy, was passed out on the sofa again from prescription sleeping pills and anti-anxiety medications, accompanied by a glass of red wine.
In Alec’s younger years, Cassidy was gentle and kind, but after the long, endless days of marriage to Buck, she’d toughened up and become cynical as little pieces of her soul died. Once, she’d seen the possibilities in life. She’d seen the beauty in everything. She’d often encouraged her children from a metaphysical perspective. She’d quoted philosophies and ideals from great teachers—everything is exactly as it’s supposed to be…each moment is perfect…everything is connected…gratitude is the key to true happiness.
Those principles weren’t commonly believed or accepted in the staunch Catholic bible-totting population of New Orleans. Cassidy, shunned by many and ridiculed by a hedonistic husband for her optimistic beliefs, eventually lost all hope. She refused to believe that everything was meant to be. How could the life she lived be purposeful, when there was so much pain and corruption all around her? How could anything be perfect when she was powerless to make effective changes? Alec had watched his mother deteriorate without faith. She’d turned into a woman who slept her life away, but he didn’t know how to help her. That night, Cassidy slept on as Cat screamed out in pain, fear, and disgust.
Crescent City (An Alec Winters Series Book 1) Page 5
