Killer Cupid (The Redemption Series: Book 1) (2 page)

He growled, “No! She’s not finished yet! Leave it. She needs to finish her dinner.”

I felt the blood drain from me, and I froze in the seat. I couldn’t move to wipe the tears. I was vaguely aware of the bitter cold at my core. I felt so much I could feel nothing. It was better that way.

Mrs. Bainbridge interceded. “There’s plenty of time, dear.”

It seemed I sat there for an eternity. Slowly, deliberately I forced the food into my mouth as the others again fell into conversation, and shared their scrumptious desserts.

Daddy sternly monitored my progress, wagging his finger at me, uttering threats. He was satisfied only when the plate was completely clean. I felt ill.

Why had I been so excited about the holidays this year? Why would this Christmas be different from any other? It would always be the same. There was no hope. The table and its dinner guests blurred into a watercolor haze.

I fantasized my death, as I had often done before. I could see the white light, a vibrant silver white melting into pastels. Heaven would be a beautiful, peaceful, comforting place. Then my parents would be sorry. At last they would see the error of their ways.

***

“Debbie?” I felt Cindy’s hand on my shoulder.

“Honey, let’s go sit by the tree for a while.” Cindy’s voice was always such a pleasure, and it stirred me from my daze.

As she helped me up, I noticed Glori still chatting at the table. I wondered why Cindy would invite just me. Glori was always entertaining, and I was pretty sure Glori was really Cindy’s best friend. How could I ever compete with Glori Coulson, the most popular girl in Beverly Hills?

The thought triggered another tumult of negativity racing through my brain, quaking my body. I worried Glori would be angry if Cindy didn’t include her. It took all my energy to walk into the parlor.

We settled into the overstuffed love seat by another tree.

“I want to tell you again how much I love that painting you did for me. And I know you put a lot of time and effort into it. It will go perfectly in my room. All my favorite colors
—
it’s just beautiful!”

“Thank you. I – I’m glad you like it.” I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress.

Cindy reached over and pointed to the tree. “Remember these? These are all the ornaments you made for us over the years. Look. Remember you took some old pictures of everyone and put them in cookie dough frames? And look how you painted the frames. The colors are still bright.”

She went to the tree to retrieve one of the ornaments. “Look. Remember you had a crush on Doug? And you’ve got his picture framed in a heart shape.” Cindy examined a child’s red scrawl. “It says ‘I love Douggy.’ Ha! That’s great. You were such a fantastic artist, even when you were tiny. And look, here’s one you did for me. Remember I asked you to do a Christmas unicorn? It’s the cutest green unicorn I’ve ever seen!” She reached over to hug me.

I took an ornament from the tree. “Well… I remember this one.” I fingered an ornate dough frame colored pink, decorated with dainty sculpted poinsettias, and lettered in holiday red and gold. I held it up so Cindy could see. Two beaming girls looked out from the picture, arm in arm.

Cindy took my hand. “You’re the best, Debbie. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. Do you hear me?” Her voice was thick with emotion, and she cleared her throat.

I looked down, unable to speak. That little voice deep inside told me Cindy was surely mistaken.

***

Though dinner was over, the older generation remained around the table discussing business and current events. Children ran to play with new toys; their parents besieged with requests for assembling them.

Glori sauntered into the parlor. I couldn’t help staring. A swimsuit model, Glori Coulson had a thin curvaceous body, the envy of all her Hollywood friends. She always boasted her full breasts were untouched by any surgeon. Long sandy hair sparkled with blonde highlights, falling in waves over her shoulders. Perfectly applied makeup accentuated her eyes, a rare shade of blue green.

Glori acknowledged me with a brief look as she plopped onto the opulent cushions of the couch and removed black strappy spike heels. Her feet were impeccably pedicured. She frowned at the tree. “Glad I missed this whole decorating thing you did this year. Looks like it’s gonna take till next Christmas to put everything away.”

Cindy’s lilting laughter always made me smile. “Don’t worry Glori – you won’t have to do anything. I’m used to your attitude by now.” She winked at me.

Glori yawned. “Well, I thought I’d try getting more in the spirit this year. After all, it’s been almost ten years since your parents took me in. I told my therapist I should be over my traumatic childhood by now.” She grabbed the remote to turn on the television.

Cindy rushed to take it from her. “Glori! Let’s not put that noise on. Why don’t we put on some Christmas music?”

Glori wrinkled her nose. “I can’t take too much of that Silent Night stuff. Let’s save it for next Christmas, okay?”

Glori picked herself up from the sofa, tugged her tight black mini-dress down over her hips, and ambled over to the tree. I silently admired her – confident and glamorous. I looked down at the voluminous pink dress that billowed modestly to my mid-calf. Mama had picked it out for me. I could feel myself withdrawing again into my own little world.

Cindy sat beside me and handed me a business card she took from the end table. I looked down at it, but my vision was blurry. I re-focused on Cindy’s face, trying to blink away fogginess. I was so nauseous from dinner, I couldn’t think straight.

“Debbie, you know Mom was bidding against five or six people who were determined to have your heart ornaments. They sold for more than any other item in the auction. And there were some well known artists represented there.” She tugged at my sleeve to make sure she had my attention, and I blinked at her.

“Cool,” I heard Glori say.

“Debbie, this business card is from the owner of Hill’s Gallery. He wants to do business with you, honey. You know as well as I do, this is big.”

“Wow,” I heard Glori say.

Cindy was almost face to face with me. “Honey, are you okay?”

Maybe this medical illustration thing could work out. Maybe I could make money with my art. Maybe I could stand on my own two feet for a change.

I gasped. “Oh, yes, Cindy. It is big. It is. This could be my ticket out of Beverly Hills.” The nausea was getting worse.

“Out of Beverly Hills?” Cindy’s face went from concern to distress.

I thought I was going to vomit, so I pushed myself up and out of the seat. I made it to the grand tree in the foyer. My legs gave out, and I grabbed a heart off the tree as I collapsed to the floor. I noticed it was the ornament with the myocardial infarction. My thumb fit perfectly into the ventricle that blew out.

I could see through a watercolor haze – Cindy was on her knees beside me crying and clutching my hand. Mama was wailing, and Daddy was yelling instructions. I didn’t know why they were upset. No more pain, no more nausea. I felt so free all of a sudden. Giggling, I rose up in a whirl around the Christmas tree and looked down on everyone in the foyer.

The watercolor haze gave way to silver white light, and I was transported to the most peaceful and beautiful place I’d ever seen. There were flowers everywhere and indescribable colors and scents. Light with a brilliance beyond words glowed on everything and everyone.

Grammy was there to greet me. She didn’t look old, but I knew it was her. Her smile was as warm and loving as ever. I rushed into her arms. “I can’t wait to paint this place, Grammy.”

“Not here. Not now, my dear. You’ve got some important work to do yet. There are souls at stake. You’ve got to go back. Cat the Prayer Warrior will help you.”

“A cat?”

But Grammy only said, “Remember, nothing can separate you from the love of God.”

Chapter Two

Nita

Early on Christmas morning I tapped on Cat’s bedroom door. There was no answer, so I gently opened it and peered into an empty room. The light of the moon on snowy trees glimmered through the large windows, providing a halo of light over Cat’s desk, her overturned chair, and scattered papers. I turned on the light, and went to right the chair.

I noticed the arm had pierced a paper with lyrics to a song I’d yet to hear. Forgiven was the title at the top of the battered page. Forgiven.

I could forgive Eduardo, if only he’d live and come back to me.
I’d loved him as long as I could remember. And I resented him for putting me through interminable, daily fear.

I picked up the papers and returned them to the desk, then switched off the light. There was something in the miraculous moonlight outside that drew me to the window. The light shone over Alpine mountaintops in the distance. A new blanket of snow had fallen during the night, and I could see tracks heading off into the hills.

I went back to my room to dress, then followed the tantalizing smell of cinnamon down the back stairs to the kitchen. Cat’s Aunt Maria was preparing her usual Christmas breakfast feast. The only thing out of the ordinary was her small computer tucked amongst the baking supplies on the counter.

“Auntie?”

“There’s no message, dear.” She wiped her hands on a towel and gave me a hug. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. But it looks like you never went to bed.”

“No. It would have been pointless.” She pushed the swinging door from the kitchen to the sitting room, and we both saw Uncle Frederick asleep on the couch, his laptop flashing on the coffee table. “He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s almost at the breaking point.”

I pulled her back into the kitchen and into my arms. A few stoic breaths came out of her, and she was composed again. “Did you check on Cat?”

“It looks like she went out for a hike with the dogs. I’m going after her. Some fresh air will do me good.” I headed to the mudroom to put on my parka and locate my snowshoes.

“There’s a thermos with coffee and some warm nut breads.” Auntie handed me the backpack, and I was off into the chill of Christmas morning.

I followed the tracks taking in the crisp air and marvelous light that guided me through a winter wonderland.
Stille Nacht
echoed in my head, more grand than the choir at Midnight Mass. I sang along, then fell into contemplation.

Christmas had been forever marred for the entire extended family nineteen years ago when a plane crashed in the foothills of the Alps. It was certainly the worst time of our lives. And this holiday was one to rival it.

Our hell began in earnest three years ago after my fiancé Eduardo, and Cat’s cousin David – his best friend – were recruited by an agency so secret it did not even have a name. At least that’s what we were told. They were off supposedly making the world a better place, and that was the important thing. That’s what we tried to convince ourselves.

At first we were able to see them from time to time. But after an initial training period, evidently they went so deep undercover they assumed new identities, new lives, leaving their past completely behind. I suppose it was their idea of adventure. It was our families’ idea of a nightmare.

For the past three years I had received a holiday audio message from Eduardo. His family also received an audio they would share. And Cat’s cousin, David, would record one for his family.

All of us would gather together on December 15
th
, the day they would arrive. We listened to them repeatedly, and spent hours dissecting their content and meanings, always coming away with an aching longing for their return, but a sense that they were okay.

This year David’s audio never came. Eduardo’s had arrived on the morning of December 20
th
– the anniversary of that horrible plane crash. He sounded tired, stressed, and humorless. Not the man I knew.

If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Cat. Her near death experience in that disaster at age five left her with unshakable faith in God and amazing powers of prophecy and discernment.

Unable to explain our saintly friend, Eduardo had long ago dubbed Cat, “Cat the Prayer Warrior,” with a sarcastic laugh. Her prayers grew more powerful through the years, and she would astound the family with her gift of prophecy. But as Eduardo and David headed off to the unknown, I increasingly believed Cat was engaged in a supernatural battle of good and evil. Today I wondered if evil was winning.

Eduardo was in trouble. He had to be in deep trouble. Was David alive or dead? Did Eduardo know?

My head started to pound. Cat had been silent these last ten days. That did not bode well. I knew she was in almost constant prayer, but what
—
if any
—
answers she got, she kept to herself.

As Schatzi, the Bernese Mountain Dog, raced down the hill at me, I realized Cat was in our usual place
—
the camp we’d made as kids. Schatzi tagged me with her nose, whirled around in the snow, and tore back up to Cat.