The Angel of St. Thomas: vs. The Galactic Good Guys
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eBook by Peter W. Prellwitz
The US Virgin Island of St. Thomas holds a glow of beauty and timeless grace. Beneath that, though, lies an anguished past of destroyed lives, enslavement, and endless attacks by nature itself. The people of St. Thomas are desperately in need of a protector. A guardian. An angel that will lay down her life to see that there will be justice for them.
And from the Carib Angel comes a protector: The Angel of St. Thomas. Carlita is the twelfth generation of her family to be granted the mantle of Angel. At seventeen, Carlita is one of the most powerful Angels ever. She has dedicated her heart and soul to protecting her people who guard her identity and the tourists who know nothing about her.
The Galactic Good Guys, however, have other plans for her. They want Carlita to join them and leave her island and her people to aid them in their battle against injustice in the world. Certainly it is a noble goal. But when Carlita turns them down and their offer takes on an increasingly sinister nature, perhaps their true motives are not what they seem.
eBook Publisher: Double Dragon Publishing
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2006
A beautiful night. Starlit skies above, crystal waters below, showing their blue color beneath a full moon. A light breeze played across St. Thomas harbor, teasing the reflection of Charlotte Amalie's skyline into a late night dance. It should have been a night of romance, happiness and of bright colors and sounds. Not a night of sadness, fear and evil.
I was moving across the harbor at about twenty miles an hour, having come from the Havensight docks on the eastern side. My feet were less than two feet above the short waves, my head only three feet. Normally I "stood" when flying, but I didn't want the kidnapper to see me, so I flattened out.
Lieutenant Lewis' bulletproof vest was bulky and hot. I wished he hadn't talked me into wearing it. Still, he wouldn't let me go in unless I wore it, so I adapted. I was still sleepy when the call came through and in my rush to get here, I'd forgotten to bring the one made for me. Next time I'd remember.
The comlink crackled.
"You're coming in fine, Carlita," Lt. Lewis reassured me. Himself, more like, I smiled to myself. I'd been helping the police for ten years now -- the last two as a member of the force -- but he was still nervous when I went into action.
"Thanks, Lieutenant. I'm at the beach and turning west."
I reached the sharp white line of the shore waves and cut west, toward Trompeter Gade. The burglar had taken the little girl into Samson's Auto Repair around midnight. He hadn't intended on kidnapping her, just robbing her family's home. She happened to catch him in the act and things got out of hand. For a six-year-old girl, I could think of nothing scarier. I was going on eighteen and it scared me.
There'd been a determined but brief chase by the police down to the harbor before he fled here. He didn't have any demands; he just didn't know what to do. I was supposed to keep him from doing anything.
The second floor window was open, so I went up to it and quietly lifted it just enough to squeeze through.
"I'm entering at the second floor," I whispered into the mic. "I'm going off-line now."
"Roger," he replied. "We're outside and in position. Good luck, Carlita."
"Thanks. Over and out." I clicked off the headset and stored it in the vest. I needed to look just right. Not for vanity, but for safety.
A storeroom. Good. Nice and quiet. I almost landed then, but decided not to. It was risky to stay in the air -- especially if this guy knew anything about me. But if I landed, I wouldn't be able to go airborne again while in the building. Staying aloft offered more choices for me and more chances for the girl.
It was very dark. I increased the amount of sparkles that were a side effect of my flying. The room brightened, and I waited. Sooner or later one of us would make a sound, and I wanted it to be him.
It wasn't him. It was Liza, the little girl. I heard a stirring noise, followed by a small whimper of fear. The burn of anger flared inside me but I reined it in.
"Quiet down!" He had a hissing, desperate voice. This was bad. There was almost no chance of talking our way out of this. I continued listening, but floated slowly toward the door and into the hallway. The voices were coming from downstairs.
"Are you going to let me go?" she asked in a trembling voice that made me want to race down there and protect her. "Please!" she pleaded. "Let me go!" I located the stairs and drifted down them, into a neatly kept repair shop that smelled of oil and fresh tires.
"Shut up!" he growled. "You're not getting out of here unless I do. You better hope they let me go, too. Whatever happens to me, it'll be worse for you."
"There is nothing worse than what's going to happen to you," I said in a haunting voice. I'd practiced that for a long time. I didn't have the voice to sound intimidating, so I tried to spook them. "Release her and you'll have mercy." I flew into a shaft of moonlight coming from a window, flying upright about three feet above the floor and trailing a shower of sparkles.
"The Angel!" Liza gasped. She was in her jammies and was tightly clutching her doll. But her eyes lit up even in the dim garage when she saw me. I smiled gently at her.
"Hello, Liza," I said in a voice very different than the one I'd just used. "Don't worry, little one. The police are outside and I'm here with you."
I glanced back at the kidnapper, giving him a very different kind of look, the kind that freezes the soul. He was of medium height but very thin. His emaciated looks told many stories about the drugs he used. Sad stories all, but no excuse for this.
Copyright © 2006 Peter Prellwitz.