Excerpt of Sacrifice by Alexandrea Weis

Chapter 1

New Orleans. The city conjured up thoughts of Jazz bands, Mardi Gras, and drinking concoctions meant to impair logical thought and encourage uninhibited merriment. Despite the ravages of Katrina, tourists still came to see the old world sights and marvel at the modern day destruction, hoping to take part in the national frenzy to save one of the country's oldest, and perhaps secretly, most admired city. Because only in New Orleans could you drink from a plastic cup while dancing in the streets, eat your way through the best the Gulf of Mexico had to offer, wear plastic beaded jewelry like it was some family heirloom, and be embraced by the locals as if you were their long lost child. One could always count on having a good time, and remembering very little of it. Your sins may stay in Las Vegas, but your heart would always yearn for the effortless charm and warm Southern breezes of the city that care forgot.

I was back in my beloved hometown to celebrate the wedding of my quirky cousin, Colleen. We had both grown up beneath the scrutinizing gaze of New Orleans society, and had never done what was expected of us. I had studied for a career in nursing, an occupation deemed unsuitable for a woman of my financial worth and marriage potential. My cousin had pursued her own interests in boys, booze, and bad choices, making her a less suitable match for men of a certain social standing. But we had emerged from our closed–minded backgrounds to find our own way in the world without heeding the advice of the "old guard"–the older well–established ladies in our circle of society who thought they knew what was best for everyone else. Colleen had found a caring man in her redheaded groom, Ray Phillips. She had finally put her unhappy first marriage to the socially prominent, but abusive, Eddie Fallon, behind her. I thought on that day I would also be celebrating my reprieve from the past, but as I stood among the jubilant wedding party in the lavender and cream decorated Riverview Room of the Monteleone Hotel, a sense of dread swept through my body.

A tight knot formed in the pit of my gut as my heart pounded and my hands became clammy. My mind filled with images from earlier in the day. I thought I had seen a familiar figure strolling through Jackson Square just as the wedding guests had been departing St. Louis Cathedral. Had I really seen the face of David Alexander in the crowd? My logical mind balked at such an idea. David was dead, murdered almost three years ago by the deranged psychiatrist, and my former fiancé, Dr. Michael Fagles. Maybe I had only imagined my lost love strolling about the French Quarter. But why on this day, of all days, had I seen David Alexander?

Suddenly the sound of loud sucking laughter distracted me.

"The Hoover looks happy," my father said as he came up along side of me.

I shook my head. "Dad, stop calling them that." Hoover was the name my father had given my Aunt Hattie and her only daughter, Colleen, as a result of the sucking noise they made whenever they laughed.

My father looked dashing in his black tuxedo and red cummerbund. Then I saw a glint of concern flash across his green eyes.

"You have been somewhere else this entire evening, Nicci." He put a caring arm around my shoulders. "Is your sullen mood because of Colleen's latest creation," he said as looked down at my purple satin bridesmaid dress. "Or is something else going on?"

I glanced down at my dress and laughed. "Uncle Lance was right. I do look like an eggplant."

"Has something happened between you and Dallas?" he persisted.

I stepped out from under his arm. "You're prying, Dad."

A startled look of surprise crossed his pale face. "This isn't you, Nicci. What's going on? Did you two have a fight?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you, and everyone else in my life, assume that when I'm preoccupied it has something to do with Dallas? Perhaps I'm concerned about my new book coming out next month or maybe I'm just worried about the effects of global warming."

"Global warming?" My father laughed. "Now I know something is wrong." He studied me with his worried green eyes for what felt like an eternity. "When Dallas left New Orleans last January, you were the one who went to New York and convinced him not to give up on your relationship. You wanted him then, so what has changed?" He turned away and shrugged. "I don't understand why you just don't marry Dallas. You can't keep putting the man off forever, Nicci. Besides you two have been through so much together."

"Are you talking about our being hunted down and almost killed damn near six months ago?"

My father frowned at me. "We said we were never going to mention that incident again."

I stared at my father. "No, Dad, you said you never wanted to mention that incident again. Ignoring what happened doesn't make it go away."

"Maybe it would be best if we could all just forgot about what Michael Fagles almost did to you and Dallas," he suggested. "After everything he admitted doing to David, I think everyone would be better off forgetting the sick son of a bitch ever existed."

"Yes, but if it hadn't been for Michael, I might never have met Dallas."