A Visitation of Angels

by Carolyn Haines

  “I killed Ramone,” Reginald said. I knew this would weigh heavily on my partner, though he’d had no other recourse.

  “Ramone was possessed by a fallen angel named Samyaza. That was Gabriel’s real name. He was going to rape me,” I said. “And he would have taken pleasure in hurting me. Besides, in killing Ramone, he also killed Gabriel.”

  “Ah,” Slater said. “So that’s the reason the watchers left. Their master is gone.”

  “Yes.” I wanted to say more but I was too tired to talk. We still had a walk back to the church.

  Reginald took my arm and Slater came to my other side. The two of them half carried me down the trail as the sun slanted toward afternoon.

  When we arrived at the church, Elizabeth and Callie were waiting for us. Michael was nowhere to be found. Slater took Elizabeth aside and told her about Ramone, holding her as she cried. Callie slept on a blanket in the church sanctuary with the sisters watching over her.

  I found a pew and slumped into it. I couldn’t remember ever being so tired.

  Father Kilroy moved us all into his quarters and poured wine. I thought I was too tired to drink, but I sipped a glass as we settled into his comfortable parlor. Sister Teresa brought in sandwiches for us, and I found I was ravenous. We all ate in silence, except for Callie, who kicked her legs and hands and cooed.

  When the plates were cleared away, Elizabeth came to sit beside me on a sofa. “Reginald didn’t shoot Ramone. You and I both know that. Ramone, my brother, had been dead for a long while. It was the fallen angel who killed Ruth, not my brother. Ramone didn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

  “And Hildy.” I had to tell her. “It was Samyaza using Ramone. I saw his hands.”

  “Yes. I know. We have to make Reginald understand. He can’t carry guilt over this.”

  “Thank you. I know he’s hurting.” I was impressed with Elizabeth. Her brother had been shot dead, but she was able to look beyond the grief to see the truth.

  “I’ll talk with him.” She sighed. “Ramone…I was so happy to see him when he showed up, but something kept bothering me. It was the timing, the way he looked at you and Callie. With you, I thought I was imagining a budding romance, which would have pleased me. I hoped he felt protective toward Callie. Like a good uncle. But that wasn’t it at all.”

  “I don’t know what happened to Ramone or when it happened. Anything bad he did wasn’t your brother, Elizabeth. It was Samyaza.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She left the room and returned five minutes later with the journal. “Here. You take this. You have the resources to get it translated so we can prove that Slater is innocent of killing Ruth.”

  “It’s Hebrew. My uncle can do this. There’s a rabbi in Mobile who may help us.”

  “Will Slater face charges for killing Lucais?”

  “He saved Reginald’s life. And mine. He won’t be punished.” I knew Uncle Brett would stand by Slater.

  Elizabeth looked around the room, checking to see that everyone was engaged in conversation and ignoring us. “Who is Callie’s father? It wasn’t Gabriel, or Samyaza, thank goodness. Did he tell you who Callie’s father was?”

  The notion that an angel was the baby’s father had been implanted in her mind. “Gabriel didn’t say. But he did say Callie wasn’t a Nephilim.”

  Elizabeth’s face paled as a horrific thought struck her. “Did I sleep with my brother? Did Gab—Samyaza trick me into sleeping with my own brother?”

  “No.” I couldn’t prove it, but it was cruel to let Elizabeth think such a thing when there was nothing we could do to change it. “The angel confessed that Callie wasn’t a Nephilim, therefore it couldn’t have been Ramone.”

  “Who’s her father then?”

  I suspected, but I had no proof. Lucais Wilkins and his henchmen were more than capable of drugging Elizabeth and doing whatever they wanted to her. She would have no memory of it. But that was a seed best left unplanted. “There are some things we’ll never know. It doesn’t matter who her father is. You’re her mother. And I believe Slater would like to play a role in her life. She couldn’t ask for a better father.” I’d seen the way he looked over to be sure Elizabeth was not in distress. He cared for her. What man wouldn’t? She was beautiful and had risked everything to save him.

  “Callie and I were never the goal, were we?”

  “I don’t know that either. I think you were manipulated to get Reginald and me here, as Ramone was manipulated. But what the angel’s intentions were, I can’t say.”

  Elizabeth reached out and drew me to her. “Generous friend, I almost got you killed. And Reginald too. Can you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. And there’s so much to be gained. Think what kind of place Mission can become without Lucais Wilkins’s ruling it like the Kaiser.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “While you were out in the woods, Slater and I talked. We want to come to Mobile with you and your uncle. We want to see about surgery for Callie’s hands and feet. We want her to be normal.”

  “She has a gift.” I knew that denying such a gift could be dangerous. “Please don’t try to hide that from her.”

  “Never. But she can have her gift and also look like a normal child if the medical skill is available.”

  I kissed her cheek. “A perfect decision.” Contentment settled into my chest. “Where did Michael go?”

  She frowned. “He was here and then gone. I thought he might be in the woods with you.” She reached into the pocket of her dress and brought out an envelope. “He gave me this for you.”

  I took the sealed envelope from her, but I didn’t open it. The letter held sadness. Somehow I knew that, and I wanted privacy to read it. “I’m exhausted.”

  Elizabeth motioned Sister Ursaline over. “Is there a place my friend can rest?”

  “This way.”

  I looked over the group, still talking and figuring out the loose ends. No one had called the law about Ramone’s and Lucais’s bodies. They were waiting for Uncle Brett. That would have to be done and dealt with, and then we could start the long drive home. I wanted time in Mobile to recover, and then I wanted to spend a month in New Orleans, writing more stories and studying under Madam Petalungro. Soon it would be Halloween, always a favorite holiday of mine. Then the colder celebrations of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Time and tide waited for no man. I was learning that bittersweet lesson.

  As soon as I was in a small, bare room with a cot, I lit a candle and opened the letter from Michael. It was short, and direct.

  “Dearest Raissa,

  This is my good-bye. I was called to other duties. Never doubt you were brought here to defeat the fallen angel, and you did. Samyaza is destroyed. Now I must resume my work. No mortal woman has ever tempted me to rebel against divine rule, until you. Keep this secret. Remember that good and evil walk among you. Use your gift, and help Callie develop hers, if you can. Please care for Sir John Monash. He’s a special creature too. He’ll give you pleasure, and remind you of me when you need me.”

  There was no signature. I became aware that I was crying. The sense of loss was keen. I rethought Michael’s appearance in my life, his skills, his willingness to help strangers in trouble. I should have known, but I hadn’t.

  The sound of a commotion drifted to me, and I knew Uncle Brett, Isabelle, and Madam had arrived. I washed my face in cold water, aware of my sunburned skin and the insect bites that made me look like a plague victim. Those would pass too. I went to join my family and friends.

  Chapter 37

  Uncle Brett was up at dawn and at the police station. He’d told us to pack our belongings and be ready to leave. Slater had ridden back to Mission to pay Hattie the money we owed her and to retrieve Mariah and Sir John Monash. Uncle Brett had booked passage for the horses on the train for the trip to Mobile, where they’d stay in my uncle’s stables. Elizabeth, Callie, and Slater would settle at Caoin House, also. For the time being, they would be guests of my uncle.


  While the final arrangements were being made, I walked out of the church and into the woods. The bodies of Ramone and Lucais had been removed. The sordid story had been explained by Reginald. I’d given a written statement about Ramone’s death. My uncle’s persuasive personality and his power had made it almost certain Slater would be cleared of all charges. What was told to the residents of Mission didn’t matter to me. The stranglehold Lucais held over the town, with the help of dark forces, had been broken. The residents could take charge of their fate and move toward a common good, or not—but of their own free will.

  I walked down to the patch of delicate ferns where I could have died. Ramone was gone, but not the blood where he’d died. I was almost afraid to believe that we’d truly killed a fallen angel. I heard footsteps and turned to find Madam coming toward me like a very slow locomotive. She was not well, but she would not be denied.

  “He’s truly gone,” she said. “How did you figure it out? That to kill him he had to be trapped in human form?”

  “I’m not sure I had it all figured out. I hit him with a rock, and when it hurt him, I knew he was vulnerable. Reginald saw it too and took the opportunity.”

  “He saved your life.”

  “Yes.” Madam took real pride in Reginald’s accomplishments. “He did. You taught him well, to act with decision.”

  “What’s your plan for the future?” she asked, making me think of Michael and his never-ending duties. He could be anywhere in the universe, but I’d once hoped for a visit in Mobile with my uncle. I’d hoped for a little more than that, if I were honest with myself.

  “I want to spend some time at Caoin House. Then I’d like to come to New Orleans to study with you, if you’ll allow it. Reginald and I both would like that.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” She was tired. I heard it in her voice and saw it in her stance. I offered my arm as I assisted her back to the church. “I have something that requires your help,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, it’s a case that may interest you.”

  I was already interested. The chance to work with Madam on a case was more than I’d hoped for. “What is it?”

  “There’s a woman in the Quarter who’s asking for our help. She’s a well-respected brothel owner.”

  This was somewhat shocking, but I kept silent.

  “Her name is Angelique. She’s of Creole descent. Her mother and grandmother ran the same brothel for generations. Reginald will know the name. It’s legendary in New Orleans circles.”

  “What’s the problem there?”

  “One of the girls who works there found a doll in an alley. She brought it into the house. Angelique says it’s beautiful. Ceramic face painted like a courtesan, and a can-can costume, which made her believe it was of French origin.”

  “A little girl’s doll?”

  “Much more than that.” Madam stopped and faced me. “They named the doll Brona, and at first the girls thought she was beautiful.”

  A doll didn’t seem like a serious case, but I wasn’t about to say that. “At first?”

  “Three of the girls in the house have been brutally murdered since the doll’s arrival. Angelique thinks it’s cursed. Possibly by a voodoo spell. There are practitioners in the Quarter, you know. Perhaps a jealous wife or boyfriend has paid for a curse.”

  “Can’t they just throw the doll away?”

  Madam nodded, as if she’d been waiting for this question. “They have. Four times. Brona always comes back.”

  “What do you mean she comes back?”

  “She’s on the doorstep or somehow manages to get back inside the house.” Madam was being serious.

  “I would burn her.”

  “They tried. That’s how one of the girls died. The fire jumped to her and burned her alive.”

  My first thought was that Uncle Brett would not be happy with this case. “Do you believe in voodoo?”

  Madam thought a minute. “There is good and evil. There are humans who work to manipulate both. Voodoo is only one tool in using darkness for personal gain. There are many others and some in all religious beliefs. So yes, I believe.”

  “Could I have some time to spend with Uncle Brett first?”

  “Of course. Carlton and I have already begun some preliminary work on this matter. I’m afraid I’m not up to a lot of leg work, so you and Reginald will bear the brunt of that.”

  “Count me in.” Another rich opportunity to learn from Madam might never come along.

  “Then I’ll see you in October. I’m getting too old for all of this activity. It’s time you and Reginald learned all you can to keep yourselves safe. Besides, the Halloween festivities in New Orleans are not to be missed.” She took my arm again and we continued to the church and the long trip home.

  Acknowledgments

  It’s impossible to thank all the people who helped with this book, but that won’t stop me from trying. First and foremost, I want to thank the readers who have so generously given their time to read and comment on the manuscript. I am so fortunate to have a group of avid Beta Readers who willing read my stories.

  A special thanks to editors Jennifer Williamson and Maia Larson. Thank you for the careful attention you’ve given my story. It is a far better book, thanks to you. And to Claire Matturro and Susan Tanner, such accomplished writers who also gave the book a careful read through and offered terrific advice.

  Nothing in my book world would ever happen without Priya Bhakta, who is such a big part of my life. Priya is a genius at formatting and graphic design. And special thanks to Cissy Hartley of Writerspace, who designed the cover and so many other things that go into publishing and promoting a book.

  The material I write about in the Pluto’s Snitch books requires talents and skills that I don’t always possess. I’m fortunate I do have friends with those skills. Special thanks to Helene Buntman, DeWitt Lobrano, and John Edwards.

  About the Author

  Carolyn Haines is the USA TODAY bestselling author of over 70 books in a number of genres. She grew up in a rural Mississippi town with a family devoted to telling ghost stories and creating adventures. Her Scandinavian grandmother combined history and local legends for many bone-chilling evenings spent in front of a fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate. And it didn't hurt that she grew up in a haunted house where she first began to see spirits.

  The Pluto's Snitch mysteries combine her love of spooky moments and puzzling mysteries. She is also the author of the popular Sarah Booth Delaney Mississippi Delta mysteries and the Trouble, black cat detective, multi-author mystery series. Haines lives on a farm where she cares for dogs, cats, and horses. She urges everyone to please neuter their companion pets to help cut down on the suffering of unwanted animals.

  www.goodfortunefarmrefuge.org

  Thank you for reading this book published by Good Fortune Farm Refuge. 100% of all proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to the GFFR which helps pets receive loving homes and medical treatment.

  www.carolynhaines.com

  carolyn@carolynhaines.com

  Also by Carolyn Haines

  Pluto’s Snitch mysteries

  A Visitation of Angels

  The Specter of Seduction

  The House of Memory

  The Book of Beloved

  Novels

  The Seeker

  The Darkling

  Skin Dancer

  Revenant

  Fever Moon

  Penumbra

  Deception

  The Jexville Chronicles

  Summer of the Redeemers

  Touched

  Judas Burning

  Familiar Legacy mysteries

  Bone-a-fied Trouble

  Familiar Trouble

  Fear Familiar mysteries

  Familiar Tale

  Bewitching Familiar

  Thrice Familiar

  Too Familiar

  Fear Familiar

  Sarah Booth Delaney mysterie
s

  Game of Bones

  A Gift of Bones

  Charmed Bones

  Sticks and Bones

  Rock-a-Bye Bones

  Bone to be Wild

  Booty Bones

  Smarty Bones

  Bonefire of the Vanities

  Bones of a Feather

  Bone Appétit

  Greedy Bones

  Wishbones

  Ham Bones

  Bones to Pick

  Hallowed Bones

  Crossed Bones

  Splintered Bones

  Buried Bones

  Them Bones