Soul Crossing - Prologue

This is the prologue to a novel I've been working on for the past two years. I thought I'd lost it when my old computer died, but thankfully, I found it again recently! I think I'll keep at it.

Synopsis

During the biggest snowstorm to hit Detroit in years, two cars collide on the black ice shrouding Davina’s Bridge. In that instant, the souls of the drivers intertwine, repeating the tragic events that befell Davina and her lover so many years before. Trent walks away unscathed while Kendra suffers severe injuries, falling into a coma for nearly three weeks. When she awakens, she is paralyzed from the neck down and unable to speak more than a whisper. In a world completely out of her control, she must rely on her increasingly distant fiancé, the despondent nurse assigned to her and the cop who risked everything to rescue her.

When Kendra enters a dream world induced by the myriad of drugs coursing through her IV, she finds herself as an observer in Trent’s mind, unable to do anything but watch as he plans the perfect murder.

Trapped in the insidious state of Trent’s diminishing sanity, Kendra must find a way to stop him before he exacts a revenge that will shatter the lives of many.

Prologue

The Legend of Davina's Bridge

     You’re the one I truly love, he’d said time and again, and perhaps that was why Davina held on as long as she had, well past her prime, until no other gentleman would consider her. She was once a beauty, with sapphire eyes and silken black curls, smooth creamy skin and a devilish smile that made one wonder what churned beneath. Yet, after years of toiling away in his office, typing his endless reports and tending to his every need, spending most nights waiting for him in her bed alone, her looks faded and her soulful eyes dimmed. She was the Mayor’s mistress and nothing more.

     On Davina’s thirtieth birthday, she awoke in a melancholy state, realizing what a fool she had been, her red-rimmed eyes swollen from yet another night of sobbing. "I’ll be there around eight-thirty this evening, after the press conference, to celebrate your upcoming birthday," he’d told her the previous day as she typed his lengthy speech for the press, and so she cooked a lamb stew with biscuits, his favorite, splurging on a bottle of red wine with her meager salary. As Davina stared at her faded bronze pocket watch, the one her father had given her before he died, the supper she’d prepared simmering on the stovetop until the flame faded and the stew grew cold and thick, she wept with self-pity and outrage. Once again, Davina slept alone.

     She was just shy of seventeen when she first met Thomas Montague, during the early years of the Depression, when her father’s factory closed and she was forced to quit school to earn a wage for her family. She’d applied as a typist in his law firm, long before he threw his hat into the ring for the mayoral election. The staffing coordinator merely laughed when she arrived in her simple dress, the one she’d stitched herself from remnants found in her mother’s sewing basket, with frayed gloves, worn shoes and an outdated bonnet reminiscent of a previous era.

     "Honey, trust me, you just wouldn’t fit in here," the coordinator had said dismissively. Some hid their faces while they snickered in agreement.

     As the coordinator turned to speak with another applicant, who was much older, sitting primly in the waiting room with her pristine white gloves tucked neatly beneath her patent leather purse, Davina turned toward the door, dejected and desperate. Jobs were scarce in those days, and there were so many mouths to feed at home. Her four sisters and two brothers were counting on her. While no one was looking, Davina quietly sat at a vacant desk, rolled a piece of paper into the typewriter, and started typing the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner as fast as she could. Everyone turned to stare at her, their mouths agape, until finally, she tore the paper from the spool and held it up proudly.

     "See? No errors!" she announced, then walked toward the coordinator and placed the paper on the woman’s clipboard, standing in front of her expectantly.

     The woman peered over the top of her thick glasses at Davina with disdain. "As I said before, honey, clearly you wouldn’t fit in here."

     A noise at the door startled them, and they turned to see a burly man stumble in, his arms laden with files, a leather briefcase balanced precariously on top. "Who wouldn’t fit in here?" the man inquired, regaining his balance, and the staffing coordinator and the others stood up straighter. An air of tension swept through the office.

     "Oh, Mr. Montague," the coordinator gushed, "I didn’t realize you’d come in." She rushed to his aid, taking the files and briefcase from his arms.

     "Obviously," he commented, fixing his gaze on a young woman with drab clothing who stood awkwardly in the center of the room. "So, why is this woman being turned away? Has she applied for our typist position?"

     "Yes sir, she has." The staffing coordinator clasped her hands tightly together, her eyes darting about.

     "And is she qualified for the position?"

     "Uh, um, no, she’s not. That’s why I’ve asked her to leave. But, she just – "

     "Is it her lack of skills or her wardrobe that make her so unqualified?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he awaited a response. His employee was silent, her eyes lowered, a blush of humiliation spreading across her cheeks.

     "Come with me," he instructed, and Davina didn’t know he was talking to her until she dared to look up from her scuffed shoes.

     She nervously followed Mr. Montague into his expansive office, its opulence humbling as she sat on the edge of a plush studded leather chair. She expected him to sit across his massive mahogany desk from her, but instead, he sank into a matching leather chair beside her, crossing his legs casually and slinging an arm over the back.

     "There’s no need to be afraid," he said gently, and she looked up at him for the first time, noticing a kindness in his eyes. "What’s your name?"

     "Davina Marcetti," she said softly, clearing her throat. She was surprised when he extended his hand to her.

     "It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Marcetti." She quickly wiped her damp palm on her skirt before shaking his hand. "My name is Thomas Montague, and I run this here office. I have the final say in who is hired."

     Despite the fact that Davina was quite inexperienced, painfully shy, and had never held a job in her life, Thomas Montague told her he had a good feeling about her from the minute he saw her. After a few routine questions, he hired her on the spot, much to the chagrin of his staffing coordinator. She learned quickly and was highly detail-oriented; soon she became an invaluable asset to his daily functioning. When he ran for the mayor’s office a few years later, Davina organized his entire campaign, recruiting volunteers to visit with the voters in town, typing his last-minute speeches, arranging press conferences and handling the multitude of tasks that cropped up with confidence and ease.

     During his victory party at a swanky downtown hotel, his wife at home in bed with a bad cold, Thomas pulled Davina into a private room and kissed her for the first time.

     "What was that for?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest. She’d never been kissed before, and it left her knees weak and her mind racing.

     "I just wanted to thank you for all your hard work," Thomas murmured, caressing her shoulders, his fingers winding through her shiny black hair.

     "What about your wife – " she started, but his mouth was on hers again, and despite her conscience that incessantly begged her to push him away, her heart gave in and she succumbed to his passionate embrace, his huge hands exploring every inch of her quivering body. That night, Davina finally became a woman.

***

     He promised to leave his wife after his term was up so he and Davina could be married, but when it came time for reelection, Thomas easily won a second term, and then a third, and Davina’s hopes for a future with him faded along with her looks and her ability to attract another man. A few months before the end of Thomas’s third term, Davina realized he could no longer run again because he’d served the maximum time allowed, and her anticipation of a happy life with her lover was renewed. However, lately, he’d been distant and distracted, and he left her alone waiting for him on more than a few occasions. His excuses had long since worn thin, leaving Davina utterly confused by his inconsistent behavior.

     She dragged herself to work on her thirtieth birthday, despite her anger and sadness. She could not afford to miss a shift, still partially supporting her mother and siblings. When she arrived, the ladies in the office were huddled around the secretary’s desk, whispering excitedly.

     "Did you hear about Mrs. Montague?" one asked, sharing juicy tidbits as the others’ eyes widened.

     "What do you think he’s going to do now?" another wondered aloud.

     As soon as they saw her, they dispersed, some toward their desks and others toward the coffee room to continue their gossiping. No one greeted her, but she was used to that by now. It was no secret that she and the Mayor had a special relationship, no matter how discreet they tried to be. Most resented her, but she suspected some were also envious.

     Around noon, Thomas entered the office, glancing at her quickly and then averting his attention to his secretary, who was busily gathering phone messages for him. As she handed the pink slips to him, he told her to delay his schedule for an hour. Suddenly, he looked at Davina and nodded toward his office, and a few minutes later, she entered with a stack of folders, trying to suppress the intense emotions that threatened to erupt before she said or did something she would regret.

     "I have something to tell you," he said quietly, his back to her as he stood at the window. She waited, dropping the folders onto his desk, bracing herself for yet another excuse.

     The silence loomed heavily until she couldn’t stand it any longer. "Just say what you have to say! I’ve already endured enough hardship from the likes of you! I can handle it, whatever it is, as I’ve handled all those nights alone, waiting for you to grace me with your presence."

     His rigid posture slumped slightly in defeat. "It’s my wife," he started, his back still to her as he continued to stare at the bustling city below. "She knows about us, or at least that I’ve been unfaithful."

     Davina nodded, a derisive laugh escaping her pursed lips. "Of course she does! How could she not? There are just so many excuses for your absence a woman is willing to accept."

     He turned then, and the sadness in his face was replaced by that of resignation. He sighed deeply. "I know. It has been quite tough, much more so than I thought, balancing the both of you, trying not to hurt either of you."

     "And you’ve failed miserably. At least, in not hurting me." Davina fingered the edge of a heavily jaded obelisk statuette that sat on his desk, trying to quiet her rage before she did something foolish, like hurl it at him and split his head in two.

     "The thing is, suddenly she’s claiming she’s pregnant. After our second child, she had trouble conceiving again. Remember she miscarried a few years back? But now, as my term is ending and perhaps she suspects I will leave as I’ve wanted to for years, she says she’s two months along with our third child." Thomas sighed again, looking at Davina tentatively. "I’ll have to stick by her through this, no matter how much I’d rather be with you."

     Davina’s heart stopped. Her ears rang with what she just heard, and a sob caught in her throat as she saw her final hopes for a future with her one true love diminish into a heap of dust at her feet. The afternoon sun streamed through the curtains, exposing a single tear that trickled down her cheek, and in an instant, Thomas was at her side, embracing her as he had so many times before, hushing her as she buried her face in his chest.

     "Say something," he pleaded, but she could not get any words out. There was really nothing left to say.

     Finally, after inhaling his distinctively masculine scent one last time, she mustered enough courage to push him away, turning on her heel and leaving without another word. As the ladies in the office looked on, she gathered her purse and personal things from her desk, dumping them into a box, and walked out of Thomas’s life for good.

     It was only in the privacy of the dingy room she rented in a nearby boarding house that Davina finally broke down. She cried pitifully for a life with a man she’d never have, damning herself for being such a fool, throwing things around her room and watching them shatter just like her hopes and dreams.

     Finally, Mrs. Chatsky, the woman who ran the boarding house, pounded loudly on her door. "Keep that racket down or you’ll be thrown out onto the street!" she barked. Suddenly, Davina burst out of the door, a wild look in her eyes, pushing past a startled Mrs. Chatsky and rushing down the stairway into the very street where the landlady had threatened to throw her.

     Davina ran faster than ever before, past the ladies ogling the latest kitchen gadgets displayed in storefront windows, past the hot dog vendors calling out to businessmen to come get their red-hots, past the dock where Thomas had first told her he loved her.

     When she finally stopped, breathless and shaken, she found herself on a lone country road, several miles from town, kicking up dirt in the fading light, unsure of where she was going. Davina continued on as if in a trance, something beckoning to her from around the bend, and as she shuffled along the curve in the road, she came upon an old wooden bridge that spanned the gap between her town and the next.

     She stood on the bridge for a long while, watching the river carry the town’s debris to the next, images of her life flashing before her as hot tears streamed down her face, and suddenly she found herself on the other side of the railing, balancing precariously on the edge. A large black crow landed beside her, and it stared at her intently as if daring her to jump. She turned to shoo it away, and in an instant, she lost her grip, plummeting headfirst into the choppy waters below.

     As the life seeped from Davina’s fractured body, the crow flew down and swept away her soul, carrying it toward a final destination.

***

     Thomas Montague had a fitful sleep that night, thoughts of his beloved torturing him as his wife breathed heavily beside him. The window was slightly ajar at his wife’s insistence, even though he shivered violently under his blanket. As he tossed and turned, half awake, a large crow appeared in the window, its eyes blazing in the darkness. The bird squawked loudly, and as Thomas bolted upright in his bed, inhaling with surprise, a heavy fog rolled through, transferring Davina’s soul from the crow into his body.

     Several days later, Thomas’s wife came to him in tears, claiming she had miscarried again. When he confronted her, telling her he didn’t think she’d ever been pregnant, she adamantly denied it, but her protests were weak and unconvincing. As he persisted in questioning her, she finally admitted the truth, and a fury like none other besieged him. He slapped her harshly across the face, sending her sprawling onto a nearby chaise lounge, and he told her he wanted a divorce before storming out of the mayoral mansion. He drove straight to Davina’s boarding house, desperately hoping she would take him back and they could finally be married.

     The landlady answered the door, telling him Davina left days before quite distraught and had not returned. Thomas searched for her for weeks, finishing out his term with minimal effort, but after he combed every inch of his town and the neighboring cities, visiting her family and few friends who said they hadn’t seen her in a long while, he regretfully gave up, knowing he’d lost his true love forever. Heartbroken, he moved to a remote cabin in the dense woods at the edge of town, and he spent the rest of his days haunted by the woman he’d betrayed.

     Thomas died alone, waiting for his beloved Davina to return.