Alias: The Doyen Series book 1

(26) CAPTURED

PICTURE: The tomb of Marie Laveau aka where Aisling's life dramatically goes downhill.

I am billions of cells, tissues, organs and organ systems combined into 1 small body. I have 4 limbs, 2 ears, 10 fingers, 1 brain, just like everyone else. The only thing that sets me apart is the mutated DNA held inside my nucleus and mitochondria. That 1 thing makes me deadly and powerful and a weapon all at once.

It makes me a target.

That 1 biological difference in my deoxyribose nucleic acid is the reason that I am running through the Quarter at night by myself. It is the reason that my cheeks are stained with tears and my head feels like it is going to implode at any second.

It is the reason that my brother is in danger.

It is the reason that I am going to die.

My mind keeps running over scenarios as I run down the streets, trying not to knock over passerby's.

They are so lucky; I think to myself. They are probably on vacation, visiting the Cathedral, the beautiful architecture, the steamboat Natchez. They are free.

It seems odd to me that I am drowningin a sea of people who are free.

I keep my mind focused on Brayden. I can still hear his cries, see his blood, feel his fear from my vision.

Please, God, don't be dead.

I feel a small tingle in my forehead like a feather softly tickling me. It's my body letting me know where to find him.

I catch a trolley on Canal street. The last 1 to run tonight, the driver tells me. I give him my cash without a word and sit in the middle right seat. The car is vacant except for a mother and her 2 young boys. Both of her children are passed out on the opposite chair from her. They look to be the same age with caramel skin and dark curly hair.

She catches me staring and flashes a soft smile at me. I lightly smile at her as I turn around.

The tingle gets more prominent the closer I get to Brayden. It is almost painful when we begin to pass a cemetery.

Jumping up when we near the trolley stop, I am out of the door before the man can tell me goodnight.

Sprinting to the nearest entrance to the cemetery, I stop at the large black gates. The black filigree on the top of the gate reads: ST. LOUIS CEMETERY NO.1.

I grab the doors and pull. They don't open.

I frantically try again. They don't budge.

I look down and realize that they are padlocked shut.

It occurs to me that I could probably melt the lock off with a single thought. But, instead, I find myself climbing the large gates before I have a second thought.

I land on the ground with a resounding THUD. I glance around for anyone to have heard my loud entrance.

I listen for shouts, for breathing, for a heartbeat.

Nothing.

I am alone.

A pain in my temple brings me to my knees. It is agonizing pain, so insurmountable that I cannot see what is in front of me. Every shape, every color, every object, is blurred so much that my eyes are straining to make out what they are.