CHAPTER 1

The men's voices carried, even over the rumble of traffic down the narrow city street.

"Whoo, Mama, are you ever ug-ly!"

"Man, lookit that face! My gramma's ass looks better than that!"

The words and cackling laughter seared Louise's soul like thrown acid. A hot flush of humiliation climbed her cheeks. For a second, she thought fifteen years had rewound, and she was again walking past her old high school in Jersey City, pretending not to hear the jeers.

Then she fast-forwarded to the present. Back to the seedy, lower-Manhattan neighborhood that she hurried through twice a day, five days a week, on her way to and from the PATH train station. Without slowing up much, she glanced around for the owners of the voices, in hopes of staying as far away from them as possible.

When she did spot the two young men, she noticed in relief that they weren't talking about her, after all. Both dressed in leather gang jackets, they stood at the mouth of an alley harassing someone Louise could hardly even see. In the late summer twilight, their target resembled only a shifting, jerking pile of black rags.

"An' those threads, man-" one of the guys went on. "At least she covers herself up!"

"All this black...de-pressing! You need some new stuff, Gramma. Burn this old shit."

From her own spot across the street, Louise heard the first sound from their prey-a shrill, breaking, old-lady scream. She realized in horror that one of the men held a lighter, cracked open to show the flame.

In her dozen years of working in Manhattan, Lu had witnessed a few muggings, and a couple of hit-and-runs. She'd never seen a deliberate homicide, though. And this could very well turn out to be one. Lu observed now that the old woman had swathed herself head-to-foot in black cloth in Mediterranean, old-country style. Touched to any part of her clothing, that flame would set her ablaze like a human torch.

None of the other passersby, on either side of the street, paid much attention to what was taking place in the alley. It was rush hour, they had to get home, and no doubt they'd trained themselves to ignore such scuffles for their own safety. Lu couldn't believe, however, that they'd just let the old lady burn.

Still rooted where she stood, Lu reached into her shoulder bag. Her fingers closed around a fat, cylindrical object. She'd purchased it years ago for her own protection. She'd never had to use it before, though, and only hoped it would work now as promised.

She pulled it out, aimed at the pair across the street, and squeezed the handle. A deafening screech, much like a police siren, brought the block to a momentary standstill. Even some drivers slowed up in confusion. Lu smiled. The alarm was one-hundred-twenty decibels, and reached over a quarter-mile radius. Its earsplitting pitch would have put any automobile device to shame.

The pair across the street froze, too, although they still gripped the old woman. Her heart pounding in terror, Lu started to cross in their direction, her alarm still going full blast.

At least a dozen people had stopped or slowed by now to watch the spectacle, and that finally discouraged the two gang members. They spat out a few parting curses, but dashed off down the alley. Lu noticed their black leather jackets both had the same design on the back-a blood-dripping knife.

She saw then that the old woman still swatted frantically at her hip.

Part of her black costume already sprouted a feather of flame.

Switching off the handheld alarm, Lu sprinted forward and used her oversized leather tote bag to help smother the fire.

"Are you all right?" she asked the well-bundled figure.

The face that turned up toward hers made Lu catch her breath. She hated to admit it, but she understood why the two men had hooted over the old lady's ugliness. From beneath the black shawl peered a shriveled, crone's face, right out of a Grimm Brothers' fairy tale.

Corpse-white. Creped with countless wrinkles. Violently hooked of nose. A few long wisps of white hair, like shreds of a torn spider web, clinging to the domed, blue-veined forehead. Eyes small and watery; their irises no normal color, but a horrible maroon-red.

The bile rose in Lu's throat, but she tried to conceal her revulsion.

She only hoped the bag lady carried no dreadful, contagious diseases.

"I am...fine. Thanks to you, young woman!" The crone offered her hideous version of a grateful smile. Half-expecting to see missing teeth, Lu flinched at the full set of yellow choppers, even in length...but each one rather sharp, as if worn to a point. "How did you make all that noise?"

Lu showed her the alarm. "Maybe you should get one."

As soon as she made the statement, Lu felt foolish. The crone hardly seemed likely to go in for her own high-tech, electronic protection. Lu couldn't tell if she was really a street person; mostly, she seemed foreign and old-fashioned. Her black wraps looked like the kind a widow might wear in rural Greece or Turkey. Her accent sounded Greek also. Lu had heard similar inflections from the counter jockeys at her favorite, midtown luncheonette.

The small figure only shrugged off Lu's suggestion. "I usually can take care of myself pretty good. I get upset only because he used the lighter. I have...a fear of fire."

Lu had to chuckle at the woman's spunk. "Well, of course you got upset! It's a good thing you did scream. It made people notice what was going on, including me."

"And it is a good thing that boy did not pull out a gun, instead of just a lighter! You might have been killed, as well as me. You were very brave."

"Please. I just didn't want to be one of those people who walks on by when someone is in trouble." Squirming under the intense gaze of those red eyes, Lu began to sidle away. "Well, as long as you're all right, I guess I'll be..."

She didn't move quickly enough, though. The old woman grasped Lu's sleeve with a hand as peculiar as her face-bony and pale, with hardened, old-ivory fingernails, as long as animal claws. "Wait! You saved my life. You should be rewarded."

Lu wondered how on earth the woman could hope to "reward" her.

Unless she was one of those bag ladies you read about who carried around thousands in cash. Lu noticed the heavy sack lashed around the crone's waist, half-concealed by the black rags.

"Come, let us sit down here," the old woman said. "Just for a moment."

She moved, with a fairly nimble stride, to the stoop of a brick warehouse that was locked up for the evening. She planted herself there, and gestured for Lu to join her.

The younger woman did so reluctantly, trying to protect her good navy slacks. In the back of her mind, she thought of the PATH train that was probably pulling away right about now, without her, and wished she were on it.

By now, Lu was almost getting used to the crone's bizarre appearance. At least she didn't smell like the average street person. She gave off her own faintly disturbing odor of mildew and stale incense, like an old chapel long ago fallen into ruin. She spoke English pretty well, too. Lu wondered just how long she had been in America.

"My name is Desma," she said, in the cracked but resonant voice.

"I...I'm Louise Bauer."

"Are you happy, Louise Bauer? Do you have a good life?"

Lu had no idea how to respond to the abrupt questions. "Well..."

"You have a job, yes? What do you do?"

"I work for an advertising agency. I'm an art director. That means

I-"

Desma brightened, as much as she probably ever could. "You are an artist? That is wonderful! It means you appreciate beauty. And advertising...yes, that could be good, too."

"It pays pretty well."

"Ah, but you have been held back there, yes? Your boss is mean to you."

Lu laughed. "How do you know that? Or does everybody say those kinds of things?"

Desma waved one of the spidery hands. "It is no matter how I know. Do you have love in your life, Louise Bauer? For most people, that is the important thing."

"I have family. My father...I live with him, but he isn't very well.

My sister and her husband are close by. And I have friends."

"No special man?"

Lu sighed. "My luck has never been much good along that line. I've had a couple of boyfriends, but no one serious, and no one in a long while. I guess it's obvious why...I mean, look at me!"

Instead of scrambling to reassure her about her appearance, the old woman just nodded sympathetically. "You were in an accident when you were very young. You had many operations."

Lu nearly jumped up. "How did you know about that?" The accident had happened when she was ten, and twenty-two years had passed since then. "Are...are the scars still that bad?"

"No, they are not. I simply know such things. It is one of my gifts."

She smiled again-fortunately, without a great show of teeth. "I also know that you want most in life is to have a man who will love you as you are."

Lu shook her head, wryly. "Maybe what I want most is to look like a supermodel! I've thought about more plastic surgery, but after what I went through as a kid, I just can't bring myself to do it. Besides, a person's face can only take so much-after a while, it does more harm than good. So, yeah, I suppose I would like to be loved the way I am."

Desma seemed elated. "I can help you...and you will be helping me also! I have come here to perform a task, but I am too old, really. I told them that from the beginning..." The old woman's concentration wandered for a second, then returned full force to Lu. "You will be much better. You are young, healthy, intelligent...and brave."

"Thanks, but I-"

"Besides, with the bad luck you have had, you deserve it, don't you? You deserve a little happiness!" Desma's grotesque eyes actually twinkled with something like mischief. "Tell me, Louise Bauer, can you picture the man you would want? Clearly, in the eye of your mind?"

Lu had to laugh again. "Oh, I suppose so. When I was in art school, I once sculpted my ideal man. Can you believe that?"

"Ah, that is perfect! It is so good, that you are an artist. You still have this sculpture?"

"Uh...I think so." Lu recalled the box of old art projects stacked in a corner of the basement in their brownstone.

Desma lifted her heavy bag onto her lap. It looked like two squares of worn Turkish carpet, stitched together at the edges. With her yellow claws, she rummaged in its depths until she pulled out something small.

Lu saw it was a tiny gold heart, the size of a locket. Solid, though, and with no loop to hang it from a chain.

"When you go home today," said Desma, "you will find your sculpture. Cut an opening where the heart would be and place this in there. The sculpture is stone or marble?"

"Just plaster." Lu turned the gleaming token over in her palm. "Is this real gold? I can't accept this."

"You can. You saved my life. I warn you, though, do not sell it for money. It has a special purpose. Use it only as I tell you!"

From the old woman's tone, Lu felt she'd better take the warning seriously. "Okay. I put it into the sculpture...?"

Desma nodded. "Then wrap up the whole thing and hide it where no one else will see it or touch it. In a few days, the man you have dreamed of will come into your life."

Lu pondered this with much skepticism. Yeah...and immediately take off with someone better looking!

Desma seemed to read her thoughts again. "Treat him well, and he will love you as you are. He will bring you much money, too. But there is one thing you must promise, Louise Bauer. You must never try to find out where he came from!"

Lu stared at the old woman. She didn't act crazy, but who could believe any of this? "But what if...?"

Desma pointed one claw at her. "Question your good fortune and you will lose it. Now, do you promise?"

"Yeah...sure." By some instinct, Lu didn't think she should say anything to make Desma angry.

"Good." The old woman nodded in approval. She got to her feet, resettling the black robes. "Now, I must go and report those boys who attacked me. I think they should be punished for that, don't you?"

"The police station's about four blocks that way. Do you...want me to walk you there?"

"No, no. You have done enough for me tonight. I will be all right.

Besides, you have something even more important to do now, don't you?"

"I guess." Catch the next train out of here! Lu thought.

"Good-bye, Louise Bauer." The crone raised a spiky hand. "Maybe we will meet again."

Not looking forward to the prospect, Lu just smiled and stood up also. She started briskly toward her PATH stop, but paused at the end of the block to look back. She still could hardly believe the little woman in black had been real, and not some bizarre hallucination.

Desma was still there, trundling down the gritty sidewalk.

Apparently, though, she'd misunderstood Lu's instructions, because she was headed in the opposite direction from the police station.

Still baffled, Lu fingered the tiny golden heart, safely tucked into a back compartment in the lining of her purse.

She touched it once or twice more, secretly, during her ride home.