Author's Notes: All characters and references are copyright Sierra On-
Line. Only the interpretation of events is my doing, and is all based on
material from Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers.
Investigations
May 31, 1993
11:51a.m.
She looked at her latest patient, one she had only talked to over the phone. His eyes were bloodshot, but not the same way they would be from lack of sleep. His hair looked as if he'd slept on it for three days straight. His clothes were soiled and torn. His face suggested that what he'd seen prior to this visit was something she didn't want to know about. He looked around nervously, as if expecting to be attacked at any minute. Why should he be afraid? She had promised him over the phone that they would be completely alone upon his arrival.
"Please sit down, Mr.?" "Quiet! They can hear you anywhere we are!" This guy came to the wrong doctor; he doesn't need an orthodontist, he needed a psychologist. The man sat in the chair, once again looking around. "Now, what can I help you with?" The man slowly turned his head to her, all the while sweating up a storm. "Have you heard of the voodoo killings in the papers?" She nodded her head, hoping that he wasn't implying what she thought he was implying. "But the voodoo aspect is fake, isn't it? The police said that it was." "Well, I have something which you need to remove. Something which proves that there is a legitimate voodoo cult behind these killings." The man opened his mouth, and the orthodontist peered in.
Inside she saw
"Not again!"
Gabriel stood up and stretched. He'd finally completed a prologue and a first chapter for his book, and now he was stuck. He thought that basing his novel on the recent murders of three Chicago Mafia drug pushers would bring in tons of great ideas, especially when there was possible evidence of voodoo.
Well, it did bring in tons of ideas. Unfortunately, none of them had been any good. Most of them didn't make it past the first paragraph, while some didn't last to the second chapter. His latest work was the best he'd thought of, and that's not saying much. Gabriel fell down onto his bed, hoping to get some rest and think up some way to continue his current storyline. All he could think about was the past three weeks.
He had soon realized that a true crime book was out of the question. He preferred writing fiction, because he controlled the story. However, he didn't want to miss the chance to base his book on such an interesting case. It isn't everyday that one writes about a series of murders with signs of voodoo. What helped the most was that Mosely was the head of the investigation, and he was more than willing to provide him with information for a possible best-selling novel. Of course, he was also under the impression that it was still a true crime book based on his investigation. Gabriel planned on telling him that the story would be a lot better if it was just based on the murders and had a made-up character. Maybe he'd tell him after he sent it to the publisher. Still, he did feel a little guilty about not telling him about it, but he didn't want to risk the loss of information even the press wasn't receiving.
Gabriel almost wished he wasn't doing this book. So far, there have been three murders. All have been identified as Chicago Mafia drug dealers planning on moving into the New Orleans drug business. The corpses were found in remote places, with chicken feathers, blood (both chicken blood and blood of the victims), and obscure symbols in flour. The victims were always found tied to the ground and naked, with their hearts missing from their bodies. That part didn't bother him too much. What bothered him was the look of sheer terror permanently etched on their faces. They didn't die until one minute after their hearts were removed. Being friends with a detective, you see a lot of sick things, but these murders made everything he had seen before, including every horror movies he'd seen, seem like fairy tale stories in comparison.
These murders seemed to have gotten to him; ever since he saw that first picture, he has had numerous nightmares. Last night's nightmare had him walking in a swamp, with the decaying, heartless corpses reaching out of the muck and pulling him down, all the while a shadowy figure laughing at him. Luckily, he woke up just as his head was going under. Despite the intensity of the nightmares, at least they didn't compare to the repeated nightmare he had as a child. He didn't even want to think about that nightmare, for fear that it might return to haunt him yet again.
"Gabriel! Come here, quick!" Grace's voice broke Gabriel out of his resting state and sent him bolting out into the store. Gabe found Grace by the coffee pot holding the front page of the paper up to her face. "You've got to see this!" She handed him the paper.
"For crying out loud, Grace! I thought you were dying. Next time don't scare me like." Gabriel lost his voice upon reading the headline article:
Fourth body found in a series of murders known as the "Voodoo Murders"
A body was found in a secluded area of the Bayou St. John early this morning by the N.O.P.D. The body was found covered with blood and chicken feathers. The victims heart was missing and was nowhere to be found. Markings on the ground and body indicate that voodoo rituals were performed on the victim.
What is more shocking than this murder is the fact that this is the fourth victim in a series of murders which have been occurring for over two weeks. A police officer at the scene informed us that three other bodies were found in the exact same condition. The officer also informed us that all of the victims were out-of-town businessmen. The police were keeping the case out of the media in hopes of protecting the public safety. Why would hiding the murders protect the innocent people, unless the innocent will soon become victims?
Shouting explicatives, Gabriel nearly tore the paper in two. He didn't think Mosely would inform the press, especially after that speech he'd given him. Gabriel bet that Mosely was trying to herd the reporters out of the station again.
"Geez, Knight! I'm scared, too. But you saw the paper. The murders only involved out-of-town drug dealers. I don't think that you fit into any of those categories."
"Yeah, well you'll be the first victim in the wave of victims of a man who lost the chance for a best-seller."
Grace suddenly developed a serious face. "Don't tell me you're going to write a book about that?"
Gabriel just realized that he'd never told Grace about his agreement with Mosely. Not wanting to let her know the truth, he replied, "Of course not, I need to talk to Mosely about something else. Do you think I'd even bother myself with that garbage?"
"I rest my case."
"Later, Grace!" He hated lying to her, especially after she helped him so much. He'd get over it.
If it wasn't for the officers trying to push them out, Gabriel could have sworn he'd entered a reporter's convention. This time, though, regular citizens were mixed-in with the reporters, shouting their demands for more protection. He barely managed to squeeze his way through the reporters and angry citizens. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about claustrophobia, or else his chances for a best-seller would be about as good as his chances of committing to one woman. That's it, think positive!
"Knight! Over here!" This time, Gabriel knew where to look. He jumped over the front desk officer's desk and headed for Mosely's office. "Be right with you, Knight!" Gabriel quickly squeezed through the door and gazed upon the huge stacks of paper which had formed on Mosely's desk. He could've sworn that the room had been cleaner on his last visit.
Once again, Gabriel used Mosely's window to quick check his hair. He was able to finish before Mosely pushed his bulk through the office door. "I swear, I'm going to join in with these sickos who are doing all this killing just so I can take out those stupid reporters! Sit down Knight, I don't have time to wait for you to check out your hair."
Gabriel sat down, hoping that the reporters hadn't made him too mad. "Well, Knight. I guess you've had time to read today's paper."
"Yeah, I did. Now I know that you didn't reveal anything, and I don't care for the press myself." Gabriel once dated a reporter, and was the butt of many nasty editorials for two weeks after the initial break-up, "So what happened?"
"Well, the body was discovered by a young couple thinking they'd get a buzz out of making-out in the swamp. They immediately called us, but then decided to get their faces in the papers, by being the first to 'help uncover a government conspiracy!' Stupid punks. Anyway, some female reporter got to one of the rookies. Promised him a 'big break into show biz,' and now we have to deal with angry, panic-stricken citizens who think that the police are a part of a 'big conspiracy!' I tell you, Knight, I don't see why I shouldn't just sit idly by until these sick puppies turn their voodoo on the public and make my job much easier!"
"Don't worry, Mostly. Grace and I are willing to speak on your behalf to make sure that your insanity plea is genuine. Now if you're done reflecting on your fantasies, I'd like to catch up on the status of this case before the rest of New Orleans becomes involved in these killings."
Mosely sighed, which indicated to Knight that the investigation wasn't going as well as he hoped. "Well, for starters, Knight, this fourth victim adds nothing new to the case. All it does is support our theory that the perps are targeting the Chicago Mafia. However, the captain has told me now that I have to reveal just enough to the press so that the paranoia will cease somewhat. Hell, with what I have to tell them, I wouldn't be surprised if they started their own voodoo to protect themselves from the voodoo being used in the murders."
"So the voodoo is genuine?"
"I wish I could tell you one way or another, Knight, but I have yet to find anyone who could verify either way. However, the captain has told me to tell the press that it is fake, that it's just a scare tactic."
Gabriel felt like kicking something. Three weeks and Mosely has yet to find out if the voodoo was real or not. Guess he'll have to look it up himself sometime soon. "So, what all are you going to tell them?"
"Well, I am going to tell them that there is no conspiracy, and that the victims were all out-of-town drug dealers, which proves that the murderers have no present intent to target the public. However, I won't tell them that this could be the start of a gang war, nor that the victims had connections to the Mafia. We don't want anymore people joining in. Don't worry, though, you'll still get more information than the press will get."
"Speaking of which, anything new you can tell me? I'm starting to fall into a slump."
Mosely leaned back into his thinking position, though why he even had one was beyond Gabriel's comprehension. "Well, how much do you have now?"
Now Gabriel had to lean back into his thinking position. "Well, the latest storyline is the best one so far. I need to find out a little more about voodoo, though. If this stuff is genuine, then I plan on glorifying it as much as I can, but with realism."
"I knew you couldn't resist taking the voodoo aspect too far, Knight. If I didn't know you for so long, I'd swear you're sick in the head. Of course, I'm still not sure about that, looking at what's on your head."
"At least you have something to look at; all I see when I look at your 'hair' is me!"
"Alright, Knight. You got me. So, need any help on my character?"
Gabriel blanched when Mosely mentioned what he didn't want to talk to him about. "Well, I need to know a little more about you. It'll help the readers grasp the intelligence and strength you displayed while investigating these sick murders."
Gabriel nearly choked on the bile which was quickly making its way up his throat. He doubted if he'd ever tell Mosely that he didn't want to use him in his book. Still, now is not the time to tell him. "Well, I think you're right. Someone with such experience and expertise such as myself should be explored more deeply."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, exactly what I was thinking."
"Well, I guess you'll want to know a little about my past life; sort of add a little realism and spice to the role, you know?"
Gabriel decided to play along; hell, this would be a good chance to dig up a little dirt he could use for his benefit. "Sure, I'd be honored to add as much realism as I can to such a 'complex and experienced' character. Find out as much as you can, and I'll meet with you when I'm ready to work on your part. I'm still in the prelims with the story; you know, establishing the plot and main setting, tedious stuff like that." Gabriel relished the smile forming on his friend's face. Maybe he should move to Hollywood and become an agent should this book not do as well as he hoped. At the rate things were going, maybe he should start packing.
"Sure, Knight. Well, anything else before I address the public?"
Gabriel stood up, stretched, and walked towards the door. "Yeah. Thanks for helping me out. You don't realize how much I appreciate it."
"Wow, Knight! That's pretty deep for you."
"You think so? I was planning on using it on the next woman I plan on 'socializing with'. I heard they eat that mushy stuff up."
Mosely laughed. "Get outta here, ya wanker!"
Gabriel headed back to St. George's.
"So tell me, Knight. Any new plans for a book?" Grace's sarcasm greeted Gabriel as he hung his jacket next to the door.
"Yeah, it's about a smart-mouth employee who thought she was better than her boss and ended up in the unemployment line."
"So, you're saying she and her boss end up staying together, after all?" Gabriel headed for the coffee pot, realizing that he had yet to have his daily cup of caffeine rush. "Man, have you checked out the horoscopes, yet?"
"What for, Grace? Don't tell me you believe in that, too?"
"Well, it never hurts to have a little help; in your case, you need all the help you can get. Anyway, the Aquarius section is the strangest. 'While you may use your friends now, you will eventually need to change your ways, for they will aid you greatly in the near future.' Sounds like someone is in for a big adventure."
Fat chance, Gabriel thought. She'd just read his sign, and from what he could tell, the only adventure he'll be embarking on is avoiding the dreaded repo man. Gabriel took a long swallow from his cup.
"Gabriel, sweetheart! Long time no see!"
Gabriel nearly burnt himself when he spilt his coffee. He didn't need to look up to see who had just entered. He'd known Bruno ever since high school, and he'd always hated him. Not because he was gay; hell, he was all for it (it left more women for him to date), but because Bruno was constantly putting him down about everything, whether it was his hair and taste in movies while in high school, or his lack of business and taste in women today. And he acted every bit the stereotype of television. He always wanted to punch him out, but Gran always told him to never hit women.
"Bruno! What do you want? I thought you were still in Paris with your boyfriend!"
"Gosh, Gabe, that trip was a month ago! No 'Hello. How was your trip? I missed you'?"
Bruno's gaze suddenly met Grace, who was interrupted from her artwork. "Well, hello there, Miss. Finally, Gabriel, someone answered your pitiful cry for assistance. And a woman! Well, I guess you can finally stop looking for Ms. Right in seedy little bars."
Gabe felt his face go red. Now was another chance for Grace to insult him. His redness disappeared, however, when he saw Grace stand up from her chair and stood right in front of Bruno's face. "Look, Bruno. Obviously, Gabriel has his flaws, but at least he's shown enough decency not to hit a woman, which is what I will do if you don't shut your trap! Now, if you want to buy something, then buy it and get out; otherwise, get the hell out!"
Gabriel was stunned, but not as much as Bruno. Obviously, no one had ever talked to Bruno that way, and Gabriel had never heard Grace talk that way. Now he had to be careful what he said to her.
Gaining back what little composure he had, Bruno turned to Gabriel, "So, hired the first thing that walked through the door, huh Gabe? As a matter of fact, Miss."
"Nakimura, but you can call me Grace, because I'm sure you'd be able to pronounce it easier."
"Well, I never!"
Gabe smiled. "Get on with what you were babbling about, Bruno."
"Well, I was wondering if you were planning to sell that painting of yours, since it will obviously get better attention in my store than this dump."
Gabriel was about to retort, but Grace beat him to the punch, "Look, even if it were for sale, I wouldn't let Gabriel sell it to you. From the style of your clothes, you wouldn't know good taste if your boyfriend."
"Okay, Grace. That's enough. I think our friend here gets the picture."
He did, because Bruno was already heading for the door. "Well, I can tell when I'm not welcome!"
The door slammed, and Gabriel felt like giving Grace a great big hug. "Gracie, have I ever told you I love you?"
"Don't start, Knight. God, I hate people who act so stereotypically gay! How long have you known that. guy?"
"Longer than I want to."
"Sheesh, I thought Mosely was bad enough. By the way, what was it Bruno said about your dating habits?"
"Now, Grace. If we are going to talk about my sex life, then we're going to have to talk about your lack of sex life."
"Oohh, touchy, are we? Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. Think of me as a confessional, since you probably never will visit one in your lifetime."
"I don't know, Grace. I sort of picture you as a nun!"
Grace shook her head, then looked at her watch. "Well, another day, another dollar, or in my case, another day without pay." Grace stood up, gathered her paints and purse, then headed for the door. "Sweet dreams, Knight." Let's hope so.
Gabriel went to his room, where his typewriter stood waiting for his next bout with writer's block. Gabriel sat down, found where he left off, then began to type as much as he could. Which turned out to be not very much. Gabriel slapped the typewriter, as if it was to blame for his situation. Gabriel stood up, checked his fridge for any remaining sign of edible sustenance, and used them for a sandwich. Gabriel began to realize that he couldn't write much about voodoo because he didn't know much about voodoo. Sure, he knew of the local superstition which aroused tourists to New Orleans, but he didn't even know if that was real or not. Finishing his sandwich, he laid back on his bed. No reason to finish writing about something he didn't know about. If Mosely wasn't going to find if the voodoo was real or not, then Gabriel would have to find out for himself. Besides, it wasn't as if the store was taking up all of his time.
Gabriel closed his eyes. Before he realized that he needed to sleep, he was asleep.
June 1, 1993
7:57a.m.
His lungs were bursting from running so much. He was running away from something, but he didn't know what. He was afraid. It wasn't the same fear that he had as a child, and yet, it was familiar to him. Suddenly, huge flames sprung up in front of him. He quickly stopped. He tried to find some way around them; some way to escape whatever was chasing him, yet he couldn't. He turned around to face what was chasing him. Four bodies, with ropes hanging from their arms and painful expressions on their faces, walked towards him, hands outstretched not to capture him, but pleading with him, begging for help. He didn't know who they were, and yet, they were all too familiar. Suddenly, their backs arched, and a hand went through each of their chests, each time exposing their hearts to him, then pulling it back through the holes and out of their backs. He felt as if he was about to throw up. The corpses' eyes rolled back into their heads, then fell to the ground. Their hearts laid at their feet, still beating and showing no sign of stopping. A figure stood in the shadows. He strained his eyes to make it out. Suddenly, two flames sprouted behind and on either side of the figure. The figure was feminine and standing like a human, but her body was covered with animal fur, and her head was in the shape of a wild cat. Her eyes glowed, but not like a feline's eyes. These eyes were red, blood red. Her arm raised up, and her hand (her paw? He couldn't tell.) pointed at him. "No! Stay away! Get away from me!" Her mouth opened, and she began to speak, but despite the fact that her face was unrecognizable, her voice was all too familiar, "Gabriel? Gabriel! Gabriel!.
Gabriel shot up straight in bed and looked around, feeling the sweat run down his forehead. He looked straight at his assistant, who had backed away as if expecting him to strike at her.
"Grace? What are you doing here? What time is it?"
Grace, realizing that Gabriel was over the initial shock of waking from his nightmare, stepped towards him, "It's eight o'clock. I just got here. I heard you screaming. Were you having a nightmare?"
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, moaned, and then stood up. "Yeah, and it's one of the worst ones this week."
"This week? You mean you've been having nightmares everyday?"
"Yeah, and I don't feel like relating them to you."
Grace went from greatly concerned to mildly perturbed. "You know, it's no wonder your only friends are a shameless detective and a gay flowershop owner; with that attitude, I'm surprised you've ever gone out with women."
"Look, it's too early in the morning to start this. Let me take a shower and wake-up, and then we can continue this."
"Fine with me."
Gabriel was fully awake by his third cup of coffee. He scanned the newspaper, and made sure he ignored the headline about the murders; he trusted Mosely, and knew that anything in the paper was either old news or no news to him. Instead, he headed for his horoscope. He had the faintest feeling that he was falling into a routine, but he didn't bother to think too much about it.
"Depend on your own skills today. The help of others won't accomplish much, today. Seek your own destiny."
Yep, a routine he needed to break.
"So, are you going to tell me what the nightmare was about?"
Gabriel placed the paper on the table and leaned back on the table. "You find me that interesting?"
"About as interesting as any college student who wanted to examine a sick mind for psychology."
"Look, Grace. I really don't want to talk about them. I don't want them, and I definitely don't want to try and remember them."
"Well, you should try to remember them. Many ancient philosophers recording their nightmares, and found that by analyzing them, they discovered that their visions reflected their present state and could predict things to come."
Gabriel stared at her in awe. "You really don't have a life, do you?"
Grace raised her arms as if asking for help from a higher power. "Look, can't you just work with me here? This 'job' you have me working doesn't offer too much excitement, you know!"
Gabriel sighed, not really wanting to discuss it any further. Then again, she did defend him yesterday, so he owed her that much. He hated owing people something. "Well, I was being chased by something, and when I turned around, it had caught up with me. It looked like a woman, yet almost like a cat, a leopard, really. Then you woke me up. By the way, thanks for waking me. I didn't want to continue the dream any further."
"Anytime, Gabe. About the dream, have you been having the same dream every night?"
"No, it's different every night, but it sort of ends about the same, with the leopard woman."
"Hmm, I really can't tell you what it means. How long have you been having them?"
"These started about three weeks ago. I did have some worse ones when I was younger, but luckily, they've stopped."
"Can you tell me what they were about?"
There was no 'they', there was only the nightmare! He could remember it if he tried, but he didn't dare. "Sorry, can't really recall them."
Grace sighed, not really believing him, and yet realizing that it would probably be for the better if he didn't. "Well, thanks for acting grown up once in your life."
"Sure. Hey, I'm going to go get some doughnuts. I'm usually not up this early, and when I do wake-up early, I'm hungry. Care for any?"
"Well, aren't you the courteous one. Just get me two plain cake doughnuts."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Before she could retort, Gabriel was out the door.
Grace was talking on the phone when he got back, but the way she was talking, it wasn't a customer. "Yes, I've been working for him for about two months, and I must say he's.oh, wait. He just got back. I'll let you speak to him." Grace covered the receiver with her hand and looked up at Gabriel. "It's for you."
"Tell 'em I'm busy."
"Knight! Don't tell me you'd lie to your own grandmother?"
Gabriel quickly ran to the desk and took the phone from her, handing her the package of doughnuts. "Gran, is that you?"
"Hello, Gabriel, dear! How have you been? It's seemed like ages since I last talked to you."
"Sorry, Gran. I've just been so busy, lately. I've been meaning to call you, but then I."
"Oh, I didn't catch you while you were busy, did I?"
"Oh no, Gran! I can always take time to talk to you. How've you been?"
"Just fine, grandson, and don't you be worrying yourself over me."
"You know I can't help it, Gran. You're my girl!"
"Of course, dear. I remember saying the same thing to you. I just wanted to tell you that sometime when you're not to busy, I'd like for you to come over and go through some old things in the attic. I want to clean out some of the old junk up there, but I wanted to make sure I didn't throw away anything you might want."
"Sure, Gran. But I'm afraid it may be awhile. I just got a new idea for a book, and I want to get as much down as I can before I lose it."
"Sure, hon'. You don't have to hurry. It's been up there for the longest time, and it can stay up there a little while longer if need be."
"Thanks, Gran. Well, I have to go, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."
"Sure, dear. Oh, and Gabriel."
"Yes, Gran?"
"I like Grace a lot. You chose a good assistant." Gabriel felt a heat rush all over his face. "Goodbye, dear."
"Love ya, Gran." Gabriel hung up the phone and looked straight at Grace. "Alright, Grace, what d'ya tell her?"
Grace put on a mock-innocence face. "Me? Say anything about her favorite grandson?"
"Grace."
"Don't worry, I didn't tell her about your women or your nightmares or any other of the numerous flaws you have. Like she'd believe a bad thing anyone said about you. She loves you more than you love yourself."
"Yeah, well, she's only woman who's ever truly meant anything to me. I wish I wasn't so busy, today, or I'd go over and check on her."
"You? Busy? What are you going to do?"
"Well, after I'm done with the doughnuts and coffee, I'm going to head on down to the University and do a little research for my new book."
"Oh, so you do have a new book. Why don't you tell me about it and let a professional do the research."
"I only pay you to sell books."
"Which isn't much, paying or selling."
".and besides, something tells me I should do this on my own."
"Have it your way, Lone Wolf. But you should learn to trust people."
"Sure, I'll put that next to my how-to-make-a-million-dollars-doing-nothing idea. Besides, I think you should spend a little more time repairing books."
"Whatever you say, master."
"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that."
Grace just lowered her head and went to work on one of the books. Gabriel looked at the clock and realized it was just about noon. That was a longer line at the doughnut shop than he thought. Better get moving, no telling how long it would take him to find what he wanted. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee, soaked up half the contents with one of his doughnuts, then swallowed the rest.
"I'll have that last one when I get back ."
"You sure you don't want me to try to sell it to someone?"
Gabriel thought real quick, "Hell, yeah! Every sale counts. If Mosely comes by, make sure he sees it."
Both Gabe and Grace laughed at that one.
4:29p.m.
Gabriel slammed the book shut, not caring if the librarian got onto him for making noise. Hell, for all he knew there was no librarian; he was the only one there. Good, because he would soon feel like cursing up a storm and he didn't want to offend anyone.
Gabe looked at the pile of books he'd found with any remote sign of voodoo. Most were books about exotic religions, but a few were actually dedicated to voodoo. Of course, Gabriel wasn't sure how dedicated they were. He was down to two books he'd yet to examine thoroughly, and so far he'd learned nothing new. The religious books just listed voodoo as a slave religion most common to Haiti and New Orleans, but was mostly used now for tourist attractions and no true voodoo cults remained. Obviously, the authors have yet to see the "attractions" lying around the "heartless" victims which were helping him keep his job. The books which were dedicated to voodoo were less of a help. Most were just various listings of curses "guaranteed to work." The only book that provided anything new to Gabriel was designed for elementary schools. Terrible how somewhere in the city a six-year-old knew more about voodoo than he did. Maybe he could find the kid and interview him, offer him a co-authorship. Gabriel wrote down whatever he considered helpful, then look at the last remaining book. It was a compendium of the most famous faces in exotic religions. Gabriel turned to the index and looked up "voodoo." The only listing under it was "Marie Laveau." Gabriel turned to the indicated pages and scanned the article. So far this was the best information he'd found on voodoo; unfortunately, it really was just a biographical history of the woman. He would like to read it if he had the time, but having unemployment hanging over your head doesn't tend to help one relax. He did take down the book and page number for his future reference.
He placed the last book on the top of the pile. He almost considered placing the books back on their proper shelves, then decided not to, let the librarians earn their keep. He placed his notebook in his jacket pocket (when's that recorder gonna get here?), and stood up to leave.
Gabriel froze. Somewhere, deep in his mind, in a place he didn't know existed, he felt a presence. Someone was in the room. It wasn't the librarian, it was someone he didn't know, yet he did know. The person was watching him, from behind the bookshelf. He turned to the bookshelf, and saw the darkest, most beautiful eyes he'd seen. And yet, this wasn't the first time he'd seen them. He ran toward the shelf, staring directly at the eyes. He turned corner, just taking his eyes off of the dark eyes for a split second.
...and found no one.
Gabriel ran to where the person was standing, as if to find where the eyes had gone. He found nothing.
"Been looking at those books too long. Guess it's time to go."
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, just to be sure. Then he left. The library wasn't empty; a woman, with beautiful, copper skin and long ,dark hair, walked out from behind the bookshelf Gabriel had just searched. The woman walked over to a window, and saw Gabriel mounting his bike and driving off. Just before he had left from her view, the woman uttered a single word, "Ritter." Then she left.
Gabriel arrived home just before closing time. The heavy rush-hour traffic was murder, even for someone with his driving expertise. Grace was gathering her things.
"Well, glad I could make it on time for the kiss good-night."
"Actually, Knight, you're out of luck. I haven't seen Bruno all day."
Ooh! That hurt! Using a tone which mocked Bruno's own, Gabriel replied, "Well! I never!"
Grace nearly dropped her things from laughing so hard. "Enough! Enough! I have a class, and I don't want to fall on the sidewalk and die laughing!" Gaining her composure, Grace asked, "Find what you needed for your book?"
"No. I think I've even forgotten what little I knew about it before."
"I wish you'd let me help you. Even though it's not like you're busy all day, you need someone who knows how to research to do it for you."
"Grace, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I don't think you'd be able to find what I'm working for. Not even Mosely could find enough of what I'm looking for, and he's a detective."
"Yeah, a regular Sherlock Holmes. Well, be that way. Still, I won't hold it against you if you need some help, so just ask if you need it, okay?"
"You love me, don't you?" Grace didn't answer, just shut the door behind her.
Gabriel smiled. He knew she wanted to do something besides fix books and paint all day. Still, he wasn't even sure he had something. And besides, he'd promised Mosely he wouldn't tell anyone he'd provided him with information, and in this case, he didn't want to break it. He didn't want to take a chance and ending up like those four victims. He had a chance for a best-seller, and he didn't want to blow it by going out and getting his heart ripped out.
Gabriel locked up the store and headed for his room. He placed his notes on the table and scanned through them. They didn't offer him one bit of help. Maybe he was going about this all wrong, maybe he shouldn't lie to Mosely and actually write a true crime novel. Gabriel looked at his trash can, full of his rejected true crime ideas. Scratch that thought.
Well, nothing to do but work with what he had.
Tomorrow.
He couldn't think of anything other than those eyes. Where had he seen those eyes, before? He knew it wasn't from one of his "girlfriends", he could barely remember their names and hair colors. It had to be more recent. And why did those eyes remind him of the red eyes from his dreams? They were red, no, blood red. He hoped he wouldn't have to sleep through that again. Why did something always have to go against him? Was he cursed? Better not think about that. Gabriel decided not to think about anything. He just hoped that when he fell asleep, he wouldn't dream, so he wouldn't have another nightmare.
No such luck.
Investigations
May 31, 1993
11:51a.m.
She looked at her latest patient, one she had only talked to over the phone. His eyes were bloodshot, but not the same way they would be from lack of sleep. His hair looked as if he'd slept on it for three days straight. His clothes were soiled and torn. His face suggested that what he'd seen prior to this visit was something she didn't want to know about. He looked around nervously, as if expecting to be attacked at any minute. Why should he be afraid? She had promised him over the phone that they would be completely alone upon his arrival.
"Please sit down, Mr.?" "Quiet! They can hear you anywhere we are!" This guy came to the wrong doctor; he doesn't need an orthodontist, he needed a psychologist. The man sat in the chair, once again looking around. "Now, what can I help you with?" The man slowly turned his head to her, all the while sweating up a storm. "Have you heard of the voodoo killings in the papers?" She nodded her head, hoping that he wasn't implying what she thought he was implying. "But the voodoo aspect is fake, isn't it? The police said that it was." "Well, I have something which you need to remove. Something which proves that there is a legitimate voodoo cult behind these killings." The man opened his mouth, and the orthodontist peered in.
Inside she saw
"Not again!"
Gabriel stood up and stretched. He'd finally completed a prologue and a first chapter for his book, and now he was stuck. He thought that basing his novel on the recent murders of three Chicago Mafia drug pushers would bring in tons of great ideas, especially when there was possible evidence of voodoo.
Well, it did bring in tons of ideas. Unfortunately, none of them had been any good. Most of them didn't make it past the first paragraph, while some didn't last to the second chapter. His latest work was the best he'd thought of, and that's not saying much. Gabriel fell down onto his bed, hoping to get some rest and think up some way to continue his current storyline. All he could think about was the past three weeks.
He had soon realized that a true crime book was out of the question. He preferred writing fiction, because he controlled the story. However, he didn't want to miss the chance to base his book on such an interesting case. It isn't everyday that one writes about a series of murders with signs of voodoo. What helped the most was that Mosely was the head of the investigation, and he was more than willing to provide him with information for a possible best-selling novel. Of course, he was also under the impression that it was still a true crime book based on his investigation. Gabriel planned on telling him that the story would be a lot better if it was just based on the murders and had a made-up character. Maybe he'd tell him after he sent it to the publisher. Still, he did feel a little guilty about not telling him about it, but he didn't want to risk the loss of information even the press wasn't receiving.
Gabriel almost wished he wasn't doing this book. So far, there have been three murders. All have been identified as Chicago Mafia drug dealers planning on moving into the New Orleans drug business. The corpses were found in remote places, with chicken feathers, blood (both chicken blood and blood of the victims), and obscure symbols in flour. The victims were always found tied to the ground and naked, with their hearts missing from their bodies. That part didn't bother him too much. What bothered him was the look of sheer terror permanently etched on their faces. They didn't die until one minute after their hearts were removed. Being friends with a detective, you see a lot of sick things, but these murders made everything he had seen before, including every horror movies he'd seen, seem like fairy tale stories in comparison.
These murders seemed to have gotten to him; ever since he saw that first picture, he has had numerous nightmares. Last night's nightmare had him walking in a swamp, with the decaying, heartless corpses reaching out of the muck and pulling him down, all the while a shadowy figure laughing at him. Luckily, he woke up just as his head was going under. Despite the intensity of the nightmares, at least they didn't compare to the repeated nightmare he had as a child. He didn't even want to think about that nightmare, for fear that it might return to haunt him yet again.
"Gabriel! Come here, quick!" Grace's voice broke Gabriel out of his resting state and sent him bolting out into the store. Gabe found Grace by the coffee pot holding the front page of the paper up to her face. "You've got to see this!" She handed him the paper.
"For crying out loud, Grace! I thought you were dying. Next time don't scare me like." Gabriel lost his voice upon reading the headline article:
Fourth body found in a series of murders known as the "Voodoo Murders"
A body was found in a secluded area of the Bayou St. John early this morning by the N.O.P.D. The body was found covered with blood and chicken feathers. The victims heart was missing and was nowhere to be found. Markings on the ground and body indicate that voodoo rituals were performed on the victim.
What is more shocking than this murder is the fact that this is the fourth victim in a series of murders which have been occurring for over two weeks. A police officer at the scene informed us that three other bodies were found in the exact same condition. The officer also informed us that all of the victims were out-of-town businessmen. The police were keeping the case out of the media in hopes of protecting the public safety. Why would hiding the murders protect the innocent people, unless the innocent will soon become victims?
Shouting explicatives, Gabriel nearly tore the paper in two. He didn't think Mosely would inform the press, especially after that speech he'd given him. Gabriel bet that Mosely was trying to herd the reporters out of the station again.
"Geez, Knight! I'm scared, too. But you saw the paper. The murders only involved out-of-town drug dealers. I don't think that you fit into any of those categories."
"Yeah, well you'll be the first victim in the wave of victims of a man who lost the chance for a best-seller."
Grace suddenly developed a serious face. "Don't tell me you're going to write a book about that?"
Gabriel just realized that he'd never told Grace about his agreement with Mosely. Not wanting to let her know the truth, he replied, "Of course not, I need to talk to Mosely about something else. Do you think I'd even bother myself with that garbage?"
"I rest my case."
"Later, Grace!" He hated lying to her, especially after she helped him so much. He'd get over it.
If it wasn't for the officers trying to push them out, Gabriel could have sworn he'd entered a reporter's convention. This time, though, regular citizens were mixed-in with the reporters, shouting their demands for more protection. He barely managed to squeeze his way through the reporters and angry citizens. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about claustrophobia, or else his chances for a best-seller would be about as good as his chances of committing to one woman. That's it, think positive!
"Knight! Over here!" This time, Gabriel knew where to look. He jumped over the front desk officer's desk and headed for Mosely's office. "Be right with you, Knight!" Gabriel quickly squeezed through the door and gazed upon the huge stacks of paper which had formed on Mosely's desk. He could've sworn that the room had been cleaner on his last visit.
Once again, Gabriel used Mosely's window to quick check his hair. He was able to finish before Mosely pushed his bulk through the office door. "I swear, I'm going to join in with these sickos who are doing all this killing just so I can take out those stupid reporters! Sit down Knight, I don't have time to wait for you to check out your hair."
Gabriel sat down, hoping that the reporters hadn't made him too mad. "Well, Knight. I guess you've had time to read today's paper."
"Yeah, I did. Now I know that you didn't reveal anything, and I don't care for the press myself." Gabriel once dated a reporter, and was the butt of many nasty editorials for two weeks after the initial break-up, "So what happened?"
"Well, the body was discovered by a young couple thinking they'd get a buzz out of making-out in the swamp. They immediately called us, but then decided to get their faces in the papers, by being the first to 'help uncover a government conspiracy!' Stupid punks. Anyway, some female reporter got to one of the rookies. Promised him a 'big break into show biz,' and now we have to deal with angry, panic-stricken citizens who think that the police are a part of a 'big conspiracy!' I tell you, Knight, I don't see why I shouldn't just sit idly by until these sick puppies turn their voodoo on the public and make my job much easier!"
"Don't worry, Mostly. Grace and I are willing to speak on your behalf to make sure that your insanity plea is genuine. Now if you're done reflecting on your fantasies, I'd like to catch up on the status of this case before the rest of New Orleans becomes involved in these killings."
Mosely sighed, which indicated to Knight that the investigation wasn't going as well as he hoped. "Well, for starters, Knight, this fourth victim adds nothing new to the case. All it does is support our theory that the perps are targeting the Chicago Mafia. However, the captain has told me now that I have to reveal just enough to the press so that the paranoia will cease somewhat. Hell, with what I have to tell them, I wouldn't be surprised if they started their own voodoo to protect themselves from the voodoo being used in the murders."
"So the voodoo is genuine?"
"I wish I could tell you one way or another, Knight, but I have yet to find anyone who could verify either way. However, the captain has told me to tell the press that it is fake, that it's just a scare tactic."
Gabriel felt like kicking something. Three weeks and Mosely has yet to find out if the voodoo was real or not. Guess he'll have to look it up himself sometime soon. "So, what all are you going to tell them?"
"Well, I am going to tell them that there is no conspiracy, and that the victims were all out-of-town drug dealers, which proves that the murderers have no present intent to target the public. However, I won't tell them that this could be the start of a gang war, nor that the victims had connections to the Mafia. We don't want anymore people joining in. Don't worry, though, you'll still get more information than the press will get."
"Speaking of which, anything new you can tell me? I'm starting to fall into a slump."
Mosely leaned back into his thinking position, though why he even had one was beyond Gabriel's comprehension. "Well, how much do you have now?"
Now Gabriel had to lean back into his thinking position. "Well, the latest storyline is the best one so far. I need to find out a little more about voodoo, though. If this stuff is genuine, then I plan on glorifying it as much as I can, but with realism."
"I knew you couldn't resist taking the voodoo aspect too far, Knight. If I didn't know you for so long, I'd swear you're sick in the head. Of course, I'm still not sure about that, looking at what's on your head."
"At least you have something to look at; all I see when I look at your 'hair' is me!"
"Alright, Knight. You got me. So, need any help on my character?"
Gabriel blanched when Mosely mentioned what he didn't want to talk to him about. "Well, I need to know a little more about you. It'll help the readers grasp the intelligence and strength you displayed while investigating these sick murders."
Gabriel nearly choked on the bile which was quickly making its way up his throat. He doubted if he'd ever tell Mosely that he didn't want to use him in his book. Still, now is not the time to tell him. "Well, I think you're right. Someone with such experience and expertise such as myself should be explored more deeply."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, exactly what I was thinking."
"Well, I guess you'll want to know a little about my past life; sort of add a little realism and spice to the role, you know?"
Gabriel decided to play along; hell, this would be a good chance to dig up a little dirt he could use for his benefit. "Sure, I'd be honored to add as much realism as I can to such a 'complex and experienced' character. Find out as much as you can, and I'll meet with you when I'm ready to work on your part. I'm still in the prelims with the story; you know, establishing the plot and main setting, tedious stuff like that." Gabriel relished the smile forming on his friend's face. Maybe he should move to Hollywood and become an agent should this book not do as well as he hoped. At the rate things were going, maybe he should start packing.
"Sure, Knight. Well, anything else before I address the public?"
Gabriel stood up, stretched, and walked towards the door. "Yeah. Thanks for helping me out. You don't realize how much I appreciate it."
"Wow, Knight! That's pretty deep for you."
"You think so? I was planning on using it on the next woman I plan on 'socializing with'. I heard they eat that mushy stuff up."
Mosely laughed. "Get outta here, ya wanker!"
Gabriel headed back to St. George's.
"So tell me, Knight. Any new plans for a book?" Grace's sarcasm greeted Gabriel as he hung his jacket next to the door.
"Yeah, it's about a smart-mouth employee who thought she was better than her boss and ended up in the unemployment line."
"So, you're saying she and her boss end up staying together, after all?" Gabriel headed for the coffee pot, realizing that he had yet to have his daily cup of caffeine rush. "Man, have you checked out the horoscopes, yet?"
"What for, Grace? Don't tell me you believe in that, too?"
"Well, it never hurts to have a little help; in your case, you need all the help you can get. Anyway, the Aquarius section is the strangest. 'While you may use your friends now, you will eventually need to change your ways, for they will aid you greatly in the near future.' Sounds like someone is in for a big adventure."
Fat chance, Gabriel thought. She'd just read his sign, and from what he could tell, the only adventure he'll be embarking on is avoiding the dreaded repo man. Gabriel took a long swallow from his cup.
"Gabriel, sweetheart! Long time no see!"
Gabriel nearly burnt himself when he spilt his coffee. He didn't need to look up to see who had just entered. He'd known Bruno ever since high school, and he'd always hated him. Not because he was gay; hell, he was all for it (it left more women for him to date), but because Bruno was constantly putting him down about everything, whether it was his hair and taste in movies while in high school, or his lack of business and taste in women today. And he acted every bit the stereotype of television. He always wanted to punch him out, but Gran always told him to never hit women.
"Bruno! What do you want? I thought you were still in Paris with your boyfriend!"
"Gosh, Gabe, that trip was a month ago! No 'Hello. How was your trip? I missed you'?"
Bruno's gaze suddenly met Grace, who was interrupted from her artwork. "Well, hello there, Miss. Finally, Gabriel, someone answered your pitiful cry for assistance. And a woman! Well, I guess you can finally stop looking for Ms. Right in seedy little bars."
Gabe felt his face go red. Now was another chance for Grace to insult him. His redness disappeared, however, when he saw Grace stand up from her chair and stood right in front of Bruno's face. "Look, Bruno. Obviously, Gabriel has his flaws, but at least he's shown enough decency not to hit a woman, which is what I will do if you don't shut your trap! Now, if you want to buy something, then buy it and get out; otherwise, get the hell out!"
Gabriel was stunned, but not as much as Bruno. Obviously, no one had ever talked to Bruno that way, and Gabriel had never heard Grace talk that way. Now he had to be careful what he said to her.
Gaining back what little composure he had, Bruno turned to Gabriel, "So, hired the first thing that walked through the door, huh Gabe? As a matter of fact, Miss."
"Nakimura, but you can call me Grace, because I'm sure you'd be able to pronounce it easier."
"Well, I never!"
Gabe smiled. "Get on with what you were babbling about, Bruno."
"Well, I was wondering if you were planning to sell that painting of yours, since it will obviously get better attention in my store than this dump."
Gabriel was about to retort, but Grace beat him to the punch, "Look, even if it were for sale, I wouldn't let Gabriel sell it to you. From the style of your clothes, you wouldn't know good taste if your boyfriend."
"Okay, Grace. That's enough. I think our friend here gets the picture."
He did, because Bruno was already heading for the door. "Well, I can tell when I'm not welcome!"
The door slammed, and Gabriel felt like giving Grace a great big hug. "Gracie, have I ever told you I love you?"
"Don't start, Knight. God, I hate people who act so stereotypically gay! How long have you known that. guy?"
"Longer than I want to."
"Sheesh, I thought Mosely was bad enough. By the way, what was it Bruno said about your dating habits?"
"Now, Grace. If we are going to talk about my sex life, then we're going to have to talk about your lack of sex life."
"Oohh, touchy, are we? Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. Think of me as a confessional, since you probably never will visit one in your lifetime."
"I don't know, Grace. I sort of picture you as a nun!"
Grace shook her head, then looked at her watch. "Well, another day, another dollar, or in my case, another day without pay." Grace stood up, gathered her paints and purse, then headed for the door. "Sweet dreams, Knight." Let's hope so.
Gabriel went to his room, where his typewriter stood waiting for his next bout with writer's block. Gabriel sat down, found where he left off, then began to type as much as he could. Which turned out to be not very much. Gabriel slapped the typewriter, as if it was to blame for his situation. Gabriel stood up, checked his fridge for any remaining sign of edible sustenance, and used them for a sandwich. Gabriel began to realize that he couldn't write much about voodoo because he didn't know much about voodoo. Sure, he knew of the local superstition which aroused tourists to New Orleans, but he didn't even know if that was real or not. Finishing his sandwich, he laid back on his bed. No reason to finish writing about something he didn't know about. If Mosely wasn't going to find if the voodoo was real or not, then Gabriel would have to find out for himself. Besides, it wasn't as if the store was taking up all of his time.
Gabriel closed his eyes. Before he realized that he needed to sleep, he was asleep.
June 1, 1993
7:57a.m.
His lungs were bursting from running so much. He was running away from something, but he didn't know what. He was afraid. It wasn't the same fear that he had as a child, and yet, it was familiar to him. Suddenly, huge flames sprung up in front of him. He quickly stopped. He tried to find some way around them; some way to escape whatever was chasing him, yet he couldn't. He turned around to face what was chasing him. Four bodies, with ropes hanging from their arms and painful expressions on their faces, walked towards him, hands outstretched not to capture him, but pleading with him, begging for help. He didn't know who they were, and yet, they were all too familiar. Suddenly, their backs arched, and a hand went through each of their chests, each time exposing their hearts to him, then pulling it back through the holes and out of their backs. He felt as if he was about to throw up. The corpses' eyes rolled back into their heads, then fell to the ground. Their hearts laid at their feet, still beating and showing no sign of stopping. A figure stood in the shadows. He strained his eyes to make it out. Suddenly, two flames sprouted behind and on either side of the figure. The figure was feminine and standing like a human, but her body was covered with animal fur, and her head was in the shape of a wild cat. Her eyes glowed, but not like a feline's eyes. These eyes were red, blood red. Her arm raised up, and her hand (her paw? He couldn't tell.) pointed at him. "No! Stay away! Get away from me!" Her mouth opened, and she began to speak, but despite the fact that her face was unrecognizable, her voice was all too familiar, "Gabriel? Gabriel! Gabriel!.
Gabriel shot up straight in bed and looked around, feeling the sweat run down his forehead. He looked straight at his assistant, who had backed away as if expecting him to strike at her.
"Grace? What are you doing here? What time is it?"
Grace, realizing that Gabriel was over the initial shock of waking from his nightmare, stepped towards him, "It's eight o'clock. I just got here. I heard you screaming. Were you having a nightmare?"
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, moaned, and then stood up. "Yeah, and it's one of the worst ones this week."
"This week? You mean you've been having nightmares everyday?"
"Yeah, and I don't feel like relating them to you."
Grace went from greatly concerned to mildly perturbed. "You know, it's no wonder your only friends are a shameless detective and a gay flowershop owner; with that attitude, I'm surprised you've ever gone out with women."
"Look, it's too early in the morning to start this. Let me take a shower and wake-up, and then we can continue this."
"Fine with me."
Gabriel was fully awake by his third cup of coffee. He scanned the newspaper, and made sure he ignored the headline about the murders; he trusted Mosely, and knew that anything in the paper was either old news or no news to him. Instead, he headed for his horoscope. He had the faintest feeling that he was falling into a routine, but he didn't bother to think too much about it.
"Depend on your own skills today. The help of others won't accomplish much, today. Seek your own destiny."
Yep, a routine he needed to break.
"So, are you going to tell me what the nightmare was about?"
Gabriel placed the paper on the table and leaned back on the table. "You find me that interesting?"
"About as interesting as any college student who wanted to examine a sick mind for psychology."
"Look, Grace. I really don't want to talk about them. I don't want them, and I definitely don't want to try and remember them."
"Well, you should try to remember them. Many ancient philosophers recording their nightmares, and found that by analyzing them, they discovered that their visions reflected their present state and could predict things to come."
Gabriel stared at her in awe. "You really don't have a life, do you?"
Grace raised her arms as if asking for help from a higher power. "Look, can't you just work with me here? This 'job' you have me working doesn't offer too much excitement, you know!"
Gabriel sighed, not really wanting to discuss it any further. Then again, she did defend him yesterday, so he owed her that much. He hated owing people something. "Well, I was being chased by something, and when I turned around, it had caught up with me. It looked like a woman, yet almost like a cat, a leopard, really. Then you woke me up. By the way, thanks for waking me. I didn't want to continue the dream any further."
"Anytime, Gabe. About the dream, have you been having the same dream every night?"
"No, it's different every night, but it sort of ends about the same, with the leopard woman."
"Hmm, I really can't tell you what it means. How long have you been having them?"
"These started about three weeks ago. I did have some worse ones when I was younger, but luckily, they've stopped."
"Can you tell me what they were about?"
There was no 'they', there was only the nightmare! He could remember it if he tried, but he didn't dare. "Sorry, can't really recall them."
Grace sighed, not really believing him, and yet realizing that it would probably be for the better if he didn't. "Well, thanks for acting grown up once in your life."
"Sure. Hey, I'm going to go get some doughnuts. I'm usually not up this early, and when I do wake-up early, I'm hungry. Care for any?"
"Well, aren't you the courteous one. Just get me two plain cake doughnuts."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Before she could retort, Gabriel was out the door.
Grace was talking on the phone when he got back, but the way she was talking, it wasn't a customer. "Yes, I've been working for him for about two months, and I must say he's.oh, wait. He just got back. I'll let you speak to him." Grace covered the receiver with her hand and looked up at Gabriel. "It's for you."
"Tell 'em I'm busy."
"Knight! Don't tell me you'd lie to your own grandmother?"
Gabriel quickly ran to the desk and took the phone from her, handing her the package of doughnuts. "Gran, is that you?"
"Hello, Gabriel, dear! How have you been? It's seemed like ages since I last talked to you."
"Sorry, Gran. I've just been so busy, lately. I've been meaning to call you, but then I."
"Oh, I didn't catch you while you were busy, did I?"
"Oh no, Gran! I can always take time to talk to you. How've you been?"
"Just fine, grandson, and don't you be worrying yourself over me."
"You know I can't help it, Gran. You're my girl!"
"Of course, dear. I remember saying the same thing to you. I just wanted to tell you that sometime when you're not to busy, I'd like for you to come over and go through some old things in the attic. I want to clean out some of the old junk up there, but I wanted to make sure I didn't throw away anything you might want."
"Sure, Gran. But I'm afraid it may be awhile. I just got a new idea for a book, and I want to get as much down as I can before I lose it."
"Sure, hon'. You don't have to hurry. It's been up there for the longest time, and it can stay up there a little while longer if need be."
"Thanks, Gran. Well, I have to go, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."
"Sure, dear. Oh, and Gabriel."
"Yes, Gran?"
"I like Grace a lot. You chose a good assistant." Gabriel felt a heat rush all over his face. "Goodbye, dear."
"Love ya, Gran." Gabriel hung up the phone and looked straight at Grace. "Alright, Grace, what d'ya tell her?"
Grace put on a mock-innocence face. "Me? Say anything about her favorite grandson?"
"Grace."
"Don't worry, I didn't tell her about your women or your nightmares or any other of the numerous flaws you have. Like she'd believe a bad thing anyone said about you. She loves you more than you love yourself."
"Yeah, well, she's only woman who's ever truly meant anything to me. I wish I wasn't so busy, today, or I'd go over and check on her."
"You? Busy? What are you going to do?"
"Well, after I'm done with the doughnuts and coffee, I'm going to head on down to the University and do a little research for my new book."
"Oh, so you do have a new book. Why don't you tell me about it and let a professional do the research."
"I only pay you to sell books."
"Which isn't much, paying or selling."
".and besides, something tells me I should do this on my own."
"Have it your way, Lone Wolf. But you should learn to trust people."
"Sure, I'll put that next to my how-to-make-a-million-dollars-doing-nothing idea. Besides, I think you should spend a little more time repairing books."
"Whatever you say, master."
"You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that."
Grace just lowered her head and went to work on one of the books. Gabriel looked at the clock and realized it was just about noon. That was a longer line at the doughnut shop than he thought. Better get moving, no telling how long it would take him to find what he wanted. He quickly poured himself a cup of coffee, soaked up half the contents with one of his doughnuts, then swallowed the rest.
"I'll have that last one when I get back ."
"You sure you don't want me to try to sell it to someone?"
Gabriel thought real quick, "Hell, yeah! Every sale counts. If Mosely comes by, make sure he sees it."
Both Gabe and Grace laughed at that one.
4:29p.m.
Gabriel slammed the book shut, not caring if the librarian got onto him for making noise. Hell, for all he knew there was no librarian; he was the only one there. Good, because he would soon feel like cursing up a storm and he didn't want to offend anyone.
Gabe looked at the pile of books he'd found with any remote sign of voodoo. Most were books about exotic religions, but a few were actually dedicated to voodoo. Of course, Gabriel wasn't sure how dedicated they were. He was down to two books he'd yet to examine thoroughly, and so far he'd learned nothing new. The religious books just listed voodoo as a slave religion most common to Haiti and New Orleans, but was mostly used now for tourist attractions and no true voodoo cults remained. Obviously, the authors have yet to see the "attractions" lying around the "heartless" victims which were helping him keep his job. The books which were dedicated to voodoo were less of a help. Most were just various listings of curses "guaranteed to work." The only book that provided anything new to Gabriel was designed for elementary schools. Terrible how somewhere in the city a six-year-old knew more about voodoo than he did. Maybe he could find the kid and interview him, offer him a co-authorship. Gabriel wrote down whatever he considered helpful, then look at the last remaining book. It was a compendium of the most famous faces in exotic religions. Gabriel turned to the index and looked up "voodoo." The only listing under it was "Marie Laveau." Gabriel turned to the indicated pages and scanned the article. So far this was the best information he'd found on voodoo; unfortunately, it really was just a biographical history of the woman. He would like to read it if he had the time, but having unemployment hanging over your head doesn't tend to help one relax. He did take down the book and page number for his future reference.
He placed the last book on the top of the pile. He almost considered placing the books back on their proper shelves, then decided not to, let the librarians earn their keep. He placed his notebook in his jacket pocket (when's that recorder gonna get here?), and stood up to leave.
Gabriel froze. Somewhere, deep in his mind, in a place he didn't know existed, he felt a presence. Someone was in the room. It wasn't the librarian, it was someone he didn't know, yet he did know. The person was watching him, from behind the bookshelf. He turned to the bookshelf, and saw the darkest, most beautiful eyes he'd seen. And yet, this wasn't the first time he'd seen them. He ran toward the shelf, staring directly at the eyes. He turned corner, just taking his eyes off of the dark eyes for a split second.
...and found no one.
Gabriel ran to where the person was standing, as if to find where the eyes had gone. He found nothing.
"Been looking at those books too long. Guess it's time to go."
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, just to be sure. Then he left. The library wasn't empty; a woman, with beautiful, copper skin and long ,dark hair, walked out from behind the bookshelf Gabriel had just searched. The woman walked over to a window, and saw Gabriel mounting his bike and driving off. Just before he had left from her view, the woman uttered a single word, "Ritter." Then she left.
Gabriel arrived home just before closing time. The heavy rush-hour traffic was murder, even for someone with his driving expertise. Grace was gathering her things.
"Well, glad I could make it on time for the kiss good-night."
"Actually, Knight, you're out of luck. I haven't seen Bruno all day."
Ooh! That hurt! Using a tone which mocked Bruno's own, Gabriel replied, "Well! I never!"
Grace nearly dropped her things from laughing so hard. "Enough! Enough! I have a class, and I don't want to fall on the sidewalk and die laughing!" Gaining her composure, Grace asked, "Find what you needed for your book?"
"No. I think I've even forgotten what little I knew about it before."
"I wish you'd let me help you. Even though it's not like you're busy all day, you need someone who knows how to research to do it for you."
"Grace, I appreciate your concern, but right now, I don't think you'd be able to find what I'm working for. Not even Mosely could find enough of what I'm looking for, and he's a detective."
"Yeah, a regular Sherlock Holmes. Well, be that way. Still, I won't hold it against you if you need some help, so just ask if you need it, okay?"
"You love me, don't you?" Grace didn't answer, just shut the door behind her.
Gabriel smiled. He knew she wanted to do something besides fix books and paint all day. Still, he wasn't even sure he had something. And besides, he'd promised Mosely he wouldn't tell anyone he'd provided him with information, and in this case, he didn't want to break it. He didn't want to take a chance and ending up like those four victims. He had a chance for a best-seller, and he didn't want to blow it by going out and getting his heart ripped out.
Gabriel locked up the store and headed for his room. He placed his notes on the table and scanned through them. They didn't offer him one bit of help. Maybe he was going about this all wrong, maybe he shouldn't lie to Mosely and actually write a true crime novel. Gabriel looked at his trash can, full of his rejected true crime ideas. Scratch that thought.
Well, nothing to do but work with what he had.
Tomorrow.
He couldn't think of anything other than those eyes. Where had he seen those eyes, before? He knew it wasn't from one of his "girlfriends", he could barely remember their names and hair colors. It had to be more recent. And why did those eyes remind him of the red eyes from his dreams? They were red, no, blood red. He hoped he wouldn't have to sleep through that again. Why did something always have to go against him? Was he cursed? Better not think about that. Gabriel decided not to think about anything. He just hoped that when he fell asleep, he wouldn't dream, so he wouldn't have another nightmare.
No such luck.
