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Prologue

The child awoke, not sure why He could hear voices froh he ieness in their tone, he knew they hadn’t been loud enough to wake hi

Then he felt it

Exactly what "it" was, he didn’t know But it wasn’t frightening It was just a sense of being comforted, like a blanket, like the soft brush of a feather, entirely pleasant He felt enveloped by gentleness, care and concern Even strength

All the different tales that had been told to hiether There was a mist in the rooht he heard a cry on the air, barely discernible, a soft keening Perhaps it was only in his ht have been the distant cry of the banshee

He wasn’t frightened

Whatever it was… aconcrete, but yet… it was there and it touched hiht-light was always kept on for hirown up

But he knew that the ht or dark It was simply there It was a kiss on the forehead, a pro but a soht Someone who loved him and needed him to know that he was loved in return So of love, so real And there ords, but not words that could be heard They ords he simply felt

Another world…

When the door opened quietly, he lay still He could hear the tears in his grandfather’s voice as he whispered to his uncle, "He’s sleeping There’s no need to wake hirandfather, to tell hi to be okay But so he was sleeping They hispering again

He was a strong child He would be fine

But he was an only child He would be so alone

No It would be all right He would have the rest of his fareat Brotherhood He would be all right

He definitely didn’t want anyone to know that he ake, listening, and that in their words he had already grasped the sense of tragedy that was tearing thehtest sound, he ht, the touch… the love that surrounded him

Finally they left, the door closed

It was in the randfather spoke with him, stoic as always, firm in his belief in the Great Spirit, God, the Creator There would always be an end to life here on earth, his grandfather told him, and it was how each th of his lifespan There was a world beyond, and it did not matter what a one from this place, and they could not be with hi could hurt them anymore, ever All they would know in the future would be the tender grace of their Maker He--no matter what one chose to call hirandfather ise, and yet the boy couldn’t help but wonder if he himself wasn’t randfather’s eyes were filled with pain He didn’t fully feel the truth of his oords; he hadn’t felt the gentle touch

The boy slipped his hand into his grandfather’s, then touched his face His grandfather offered hiht him the fanciful mystery of a faraway country and the beliefs of the Old South "It will be all right," he said si his parents were still alive in his heart and would alatch over hirandfather wrapped hiht, his parents would be fine, in a world past all pain, all strife But all the saone

His father would never throw hiain, play ball with him, teach him, tell him tales of the Great Spirit And his mother would never match those tales with her own Gaelic whiain, nor would she tell hi boy, yet tuck him into bed anyway

They would never offer hiain…

No, that wasn’t true

He knew that love as deep and abiding as theirs had been was eternal And there was comfort in that, a comfort that could ease loss and pain

But there were other elements in the world that were also eternal

Just as there was love, there was hatred

Just as there was gratitude, there was vengeance

He believed that he had a gift, and that his gift was special But it wasn’t long before he learned that he was destined to face far ht

Chapter 1

"Six, please," Nikki DuMonde said "Six" She was s the tray where there were only five cups of café au lait She and Andrea Ciello were in line at Madame D’Orso’s, as they so often were Madame herself onderful, but apparently she was busy, and the young woman behind the counter seeh many of the little terrace tables were taken, there was only one other person inside the café at the lanced toward him He had looked up once and had an attractive face, eyes that were intelligent, cheekbones hard and sculpted But his clothes were ragged, with a slept-in look; he was unshaven, and his hair was shaggy and unkenets," Andy added, flashing a s with plates filled with the delicious pastries so famous in New Orleans--and better, in the minds of the locals at Madame’s than any other place in the world "S’il vous plait," she added