Dauntless Angel E-Book

Jo Wilde

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After three years of good behavior, Stephanie is released from the insane asylum. Moving to New Orleans, she is looking forward to a new start.

Just when Stephanie is starting to relax, an unexpected visitor comes calling. Aidan’s sister Helen brings a message from the Family, warning her to stay out of their affairs. Stephanie soon discovers what the Family is hiding, and begins looking for answers with the help of an unlikely source.

There are others like her, but doesn't seem to be welcome to the celestial clan. As new enemies surface, Stephanie must stand up and fight. But can she prevail with all odds against her?

Leseprobe

DAUNTLESS ANGEL

THE ANGEL SERIES BOOK 2

JO WILDE

Copyright (C) 2020 Jo Wilde

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

CONTENTS

1. Asylum

2. Home Sweet Home

3. Time Lost

4. Unwanted Guest

5. See No Evil

6. Trouble Knocks

7. Strange and Eerie

8. The Promise

9. The Devil’s Den

10. Defeat I Will Not

11. Allied

12. Surprised Guest

13. Elusive Dream

14. Miasma

15. Discovery

16. Hidden Treasure

17. Feathers Ruffled

18. Gifts from the Dead

19. Mardea

Next in the Series

About the Author

ASYLUM

Sally made good on her threat. The Supreme Court of Justice found me guilty for the three murders charged against me. My whole life went down the crapper before I could say, “I’m innocent.” I was framed. Headlines in the news nationwide read,

Crazed Daughter Snapped

Teenage Girl, Stephanie Ray Collins, Turned Serial Killer Leaving a 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 of the officials, 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.

After eight years, the evidence miraculously appeared out of thin air. The state’s argument seemed weak and unrealistic. However, the prosecution claimed they had damaging evidence against me. All their claims were based in fairyland. The national news headline read that the police found a bag of my bloody clothes and the knife with my fingerprints, stuffed away in Sara’s closet. When I unpacked her closet, I didn’t come across any such bag. The bad simply didn’t exist. At that point, I knew that due process I’d read about was not in the cards for me. Justice had left the building and I had to fight the devil alone.

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 name.

Apart from Edward Van Dunn, Aidan’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 had no problem keeping a crypt of secrets from me, but the idea that money was the fuel that flamed her motivation sent me reeling.

My stomach churned with bitterness every time I wondered how easy it was for my own mother to throw me to the wolves 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 and knowing that little fact seemed to soothe the nightmares somewhat.

Somewhat.

The federal judge 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 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 supposed luck had my back in a very wacko 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.

Hallucinations were no surprise. 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 hated myself for not having the guts to stop breathing.

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.

Though I wanted to check out, something in the back of my mind kept knocking me back to life or at least forcing me to breathe.

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, and 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 genetically engineered 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 loathed myself even more.

In a screwed 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 the flick of a Bic could overturn a federal ruling? 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. Mere 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 there was no point of return until they decided otherwise. The Order called the shots. If they wanted you dead, you were a goner. They played God because they were.

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.

“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.

“Ah, 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 hand.

“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 had,” my voice cracked, “forgotten me.” I sucked in a deep breath, holding what mind I had left.

“Honeychile, Dom and I have been tryin’ to help you since the day they put you in this mofo place. We hired the best attorney money could 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?” Astonishment touched my pale face.

“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.

“Boo, I know you is innocent, and apparently, you must have a fairy godmother. Some powerful mofo pulled some ironclad strings to get you exonerated.”

“What? They told me I was getting off for good behavior.”

“Gurrrl, you’ll believe anything. No insane murderer who’s killed several folks ever gets off. Boo, did they’s assigned you a parole officer?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Of course they didn’t! ‘Cause 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, 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.

“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. I stammered over my words. “T-t-tis-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.

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 Aidan’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 forever.

Jeffery parked the car in the garage that was off to the side toward the back of the house and cut the engine. He then turned to me with his bright face, “This is it!”

“Huh, what?” I stared at Jeffery as though I was listening to him underwater. His voice sounded muffled.

“Stevie, you sure you’re okay?” Jeffery scrutinized my facial expression as I stared back at him blankly.

“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. 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, it was 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 away 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 brain, 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.

“Boo, 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.

I worried that I was the source of his sleepless nights.

As we made our way to the house, I couldn’t peel my eyes away. It was breath taking. A vision only in a magazine. Majestic and mystique, the century old mansion stood tall as if it were awaiting for our arrival, merely painted white, with black plantation shutters embellished the narrow windows along the front porch.

Ancient avenues of oaks lined the street, offering its cool shade as crepe myrtles colored the air with sweet perfume. The wonderful scent reminded me of Saint Ann Street, my old neighborhood back in Tangi.

This house, in comparison to my previous home, was no small fry. After all, it didn’t get much better than the Garden District. Jeffery led me past the wrought iron fence, leading up a flight of brick steps that seemed eternal and just passed the steps, on the porch hung oversized ferns swaying gently to the light breeze.

The yard was small, yet its luscious green was inviting. Suddenly, I yearned to run my bare feet across its thick carpet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt the cool touch of grass between my toes.

Tears began to sting, and I quickly wiped the moisture from my eyes. I wanted to hang on to my last shred of dignity until I was in private.

On the left side of the porch, I noticed a white-wicker swing with fluffy pillows of yellow and on the right side a wicker table with multi-colored chairs matching the flowers from the garden.

When we entered the house, the aroma of food floated in the air. Instantly, my nose kicked in from the delicious tang, taunting my growling stomach. Dom must have been stirring up a big meal. I couldn’t wait to eat. The perks living with a chef.

Then my attention shifted to the grand foyer. A sweetness scented the room of gardenias in a glass vase, centered on top of a round table made of dark Mahogany, under the three-tier chandelier.

I stood there for a moment, gaping at the elegance. This was beyond my imagination. Stunned for words, I twirled around, slowly taking in the awe.

As Jeffery nudged forward, we entered into the sitting room. Sunlight filtered through the windows, bringing a wonderful warmth to the room. I spotted a grand piano sitting in the corner by the picture window. Soft accented chairs and a white stuffy couch nestled the cozy fireplace, in conjunction with bright Persian rugs adding color and elegance to the dark-wooded floors. Artistic paintings hung strategically on every wall, lending the home that good old Southern charm.

“Jeff, everything is so amazing.” Tears began to fall regardless of my effort to hold them back.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some food, then I’ll show you your room upstairs. Dom and I fixed it up nicely for you.” Jeffery smiled, trying not to show his unease.

“That sounds great.” My smile felt hollow.

Suddenly, a faint meow came from underneath the piano. I glanced down and caught a glimpse of a large white puff of fur rubbing against the stool. My eyes went wide. “Is that…?”

“It sure is, and you best be thankin’ me too. That damn cat and I do not get along. He’s nothin’ but trouble,” Jeffery grumbled.

Surprisingly, I laughed, and Jeffery’s eyes glistened. It was nice to see his old spark back.

As soon as Snowball heard my voice, he came running to me. I grabbed my beloved cat into my arms and nestled him against my chest. His gentle purr felt soothing. I’d forgotten how much I loved that sound.

This time a flood of tears poured down my cheeks, not sad ones but joyous ones, the kind I hadn’t had in such a very long time. I was home. I lifted my eyes. “Jeff, thanks!” I could barely speak above a whisper.

His deep-golden face beamed as he leaned in giving me a quick squeeze. “C’mon before Dom decides to skin me alive. That cranky Frenchman has been waitin’ all day to see the likes of you. Besides, I’m hungry.”

Unaware, for the first time in a long while, I felt numb. Numb was good.

Hence, regardless of how good everything seemed right now, I wasn’t fully myself. It would take time to heal. My mind seemed to drift into nowhere-land, a vast desert of sand and tumbleweeds. I had no idea how long it might take to recover…if ever.

I possessed a stockpile of troublesome, but there was one thing I was certain of that being here in this lovely home with Jeffery and Dom was the right path in my recovery, or at least for now. I still needed to be mindful of their safety and the risk they were taking having me in their presence.

When we stepped into the kitchen, I was swooned by several mixtures of spices, kicking up my grumbling stomach a notch. I paused taking in the delightful aroma. Common to most Southern homes, the kitchen was at the back of the house. The bright gallery came equipped with all the modern amenities blended with that old-world charm. The Wolf-stove seemed to be the focal point of the room, and the oversized stainless steel refrigerator promised a heavy stock of assorted foods. I especially liked the pictured windows bringing in the outside to the indoors. The space had everything one would need, inviting and cheery as the rest of the house.

Dom, in his white stained apron, turned from the stove, and quickly his pencil-lined mustache stretched across his face into a bright smile. “Oh, how wonderful! The mistress of the house has returned.” The chunky chef gathered me into his arms and hugged me tightly. He then held me at arm’s length, eyeing me from head to toe like a father inspecting his soiled child from a day’s play. “Look at you!” he tisked, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “You must eat. Come. Sit,” he urged in his heavy French accent pointing to a round table directly in front of the far-left window. He pulled a chair out as I followed his lead and sat down. “I have made a feast for you, but I think perhaps you might eat something not so rich for the tummy, yes?”

Before I’d uttered a word of protest, Dom padded off, in short, returning with a bowl. He placed it on the table in front of me. “This is much better. Eat,” he insisted, air swatting me.

I glanced down at the steamy curls drifting to my face and savored its salty aroma…chicken soup. Instantly, a smiled touched my lips as I looked up into Dom’s gentle face. “It smells delicious. Thank you.” I reached for my spoon.

Jeffery sat a glass of milk and a mug of Coca-Cola on the table beside me. He patted my shoulder, “Boo, drink both of these,” he advised. “You is startin’ to look even more pasty than normal.” Disquiet painted his face.

My hand instantly touched my face. “I am?”

Jeffery’s nose crinkled. “I know you is naturally pale but damn!”

My good friend always knew how to flatter a girl. Some things never changed.

I flashed him a black look.

Jeffery was right. My skin looked haggard. During my confinement at Haven, the food provisions severely lacked. In fact, I couldn’t recall eating, unless drugs were part of the food group.

Only a unique type of employees worked at Haven. monsters,I called them. Not your typical Southern-hospitality kind of folks. Their behavior was pernicious.

I assumed the Family handpicked each and every employee. I couldn’t imagine any decent person working in that torture chamber they called a hospital.

I shivered. The abuse, a vision I wanted to forget.

I once feared the men in black. That changed the minute I stepped foot in Haven. The men in white were far worse, the orderlies. They took the meaning of sinister to a whole different level.

Even under my murky mind, I recalled how the boys in white got their rocks off. Every round, they gathered around my bed cheering on the nurse who had the pleasure of administering the drugs. Because I didn’t cooperate, the boys took great enjoyment holding me down and prying my mouth open and stuffing a fist of meds down my throat.

I hated them and plotted their death, with a simple butter knife. I took some sick pleasure envisioning their murders. I never acted on it, but just the same, the desire persisted.

The orderlies often reported to the charge nurse, Betty, concerning my defiant behavior. Unfortunately, my reprisals fell upon unsympathetic ears. Nurse Betty favored her staff, condoning their ill-patient care.

After her precious boys kept coming back with busted-up lips and scratched-up faces, the nurse took matters into her own hands. That was when she pulled out all the stops, shackles, and a straitjacket.

Several months later, the doctor begrudgingly took a moment out of his busy schedule of snorting coke and watching porn in his office to examining my festering foot. It was the latest topic among the orderlies. The heavy shackles were too tight, cutting off circulation. From the lack of proper cleaning, infection set. If I’d been anywhere else, I would’ve been hospitalized. Ironic though, I was in a hospital. If that was what one called it.

Dr. Phil Good and Haven feared imprisonment for their sadistic care. Thanks to the doctor’s paranoia, he ordered the nurse to remove the shackles, and I received the proper medical attention.

Betty and her minions didn’t seem too pleased with the doctor’s orders. Despite the doctor’s wishes, they were determined to keep at least half of me constraint. Happily abiding by the orders of Nurse Betty, the orderlies kept me in a straitjacket for safety measures.

Still, I took some sick delight laughing in their faces when they had to remove the oppressing steel.

I looked up with my spoon suspended. Two pairs of worried eyes were mirroring my every move. “Guys! I’m fine,” I attempted to convince them, but I didn’t want to sound ungrateful either. After all, they could’ve left me at the gates of that appalling hospital. “I mean, I really, really appreciate all the trouble you both have gone through for me. I’ll be okay. So, stop worrying!” I forced a smile. To be honest, I might’ve been trying to assure myself that as well.

Dom reached across the table patting my hand. “Why don’t you let us do what we do best?” He smiled, stretching his pencil mustache even thinner.

“I’m sorry.” I dropped my spoon into the bowl of soup and withdrew a faint sigh. “I don’t want you guys to fuss over me.” I couldn’t be more grateful for their endeavor to nurse me back to health, but I had nothing to give back. I was empty and barren.

“We want to help,” Dom smiled warmly.

I hesitated for half a second then I spoke up. “I have to ask. It’s been on my mind for a while.” I paused. Dread washed over me. “Have you heard from Aidan?” I blanched, fearing whether or not I really wanted to know.

Jeffery and Dom shared a strained glance. Jeff took the lead and answered. “Boo, we ain’t seen Aidan,” he inhaled a sharp breath. “Since that night you were kidnapped and all sorts of spooky mojo shit has happened.” Jeffery’s oval blues bugged.

“Like what?” My heart skipped a beat.

“For starters, that whole damn castle vanished, foundation and all.” Jeffery face paled as if he’d seen a ghost.

I gawked in surprise.

Then Dom added, “We haven’t heard from Aidan since the disappearance. His cell phone goes straight to voice mail. Everyone has disappeared, and we have no explanation to why. Even his uncle Van and his son, Sam, have vanished off the grid.” The taunted wrinkles in Dom’s forehead were stark.

I sat there in silent shock. It was no secret that Aidan’s Uncle Van and Sam were not my favorite subjects. Sam was a psychopath and a serial rapist, and his uncle wasn’t any better.

I couldn’t vouch for Van’s whereabouts. Although, I knew what happened to Sam. Aidan took his life. Though Sam’s demise was abrupt and violent, it was justified. He was going to rape me and leave me for dead. Aidan saved my life by killing Sam before he’d finished me off but not before Sam had badly beaten me.

If it hadn’t been for Aidan and his Druid magick, I would’ve died. I reckoned that was one thing I could be grateful for. “How is it possible for Aidan to be MIA?”

Jeffery chimed in. “That’s an understatement! We have no mofo idea. We is still scratchin’ our heads. I got a sneaky suspicion that his family used that voodoo shit and poof, castle and all those mofo jokers went bye, bye. Apart from Aidan, I hope none of them return.”

Dom interjected, scolding his partner. “Jeff, you’re too superstitious. There has to be a logical answer to their whereabouts.”

“I beg your pardon!” Jeffery gaped, “Where the hell have you been, mister?” Jeffery started wagging his finger in Dom’s face. “Explain to me how that damn castle vanished, Mr. I-Believe-In-No-Ghost? Even the rosebushes disappeared,” Jeffery pursed his lips in a huff.

Dom kept his composure as he gently countered, “Clearly I don’t have all the answers, but don’t assume without facts, ma chère. Nothing around here is ever as it seems.”

“Well, you need to stick to what you know best, cooking,” Jeffery retorted with an extra dose of sour-cream.

Suddenly, I started to laugh, hysterical laughter. Both the men forgot about their tiff and shifted their wide eyes to me. At that moment, I’d lost my senses. I couldn’t catch my breath. Soon Dom and Jeffery joined in, and the room filled with insane mirth.

It felt good to free this strange emotion inside me. The peculiar hilarity seemed odd to my ears, a sound that jumped ship since the asylum.

Even so, with no warning, my mood changed like the wind. I started to sob, and the house became still. For a brief moment, my two friends gaped in stunned silence.

I was a mess. The drugs were flushing out of my system faster than I’d expected and reality was forging through.

Looking down the barrel of a gun was hard to swallow. My life was a train wreck. I wasn’t sure what was worse, dead inside or alive and despicable.

TIME LOST

After we had finished dinner, Jeffery found a perfect excuse to leave the dishes for Dom while he dragged me upstairs.

At the end of the hallway, we stopped at a door. “What’s the hold up,” I questioned, reaching for the knob. Like a streak of lightening, Jeffery threw himself against the door, blocking my entrance. My brows furrowed, confused.

“Oh, no you don’t, gurrrlfriend!” He waged his finger. “Not until you wear this.” He pulled out a pink scarf out of his pocket, waving it in my face.

I snatched it out of his hand and grumbled. “All right, I’ll put it on if you take that damn smirk off your face.”

The tips of Jeffery’s mouth stretched to the Grand Canyon. “Let me help. Turn around.” He twirled his finger over my head. “No peeky-poo,” he advised as my back was to him, “Or else I’ll slap your white-lily hands till they turn black.” He cinched the knot as my head jerked backward. “You know, once you go black you never go back!”