Horrorscope II: The Return of Helen

By Brian Evans

Helen Wilson is back in "Horrorscope II." When a psychic is forced by the mafia to provide them with predictions of their forthcoming criminal plans, she was murdered in "Horrorscope," the first novel in this trilogy. Her death caused a physical manifestation of the signs of the zodiac signs, who have sought revenge for his murder.

AC Nicolo and his brother Mauro return as the two seek Helen's heir, and whether or not that person has the same powers that she did. Detective Merton Howard and Captain Frank Delaney also return as they have been given the responsibility of protecting Helen's sacred table, who finds where it belongs, just as it once did for the great Nostradamus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483551364

Brian Evans

Brian Evans was born in a maternity hospital on the site of one of Henry VIII's hunting lodges on an old route from London into Essex. He has spent most of his life in the borderland between the metropolis and the historic county of Essex. Fascinated by local history since childhood, he is a member of several local history societies in the area and is the editor of the annual publication of the Romford Society. He has written several books of pictorial local history.

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Chapter One

Sandy Finnegan sat in the D row (the fourth row) of comedian Carrot Top’s comedy show at The Luxor, the famed Las Vegas casino. Shaped like a pyramid, it shot out a beam of light aimed for the heavens. Next to her, her son Brett.

Sandy brought her son to the show as a way to take his mind off the events that occurred in Connecticut. The Las Vegas trip was also her opportunity to visit several family members who resided in Henderson, Nevada, just outside of the famous strip.

He’s so funny! Brett exclaimed gleefully as Sandy looked at her son, happy to see a smile on his face.

Carrot Top walked into the crowd and for some reason took aim at Brett, walking over to the boy.

What’s yours… is your name Brett? he asked. Sandy looked up at him, not understanding why the comic would know her son’s name.

Yes! Brett said. How did you know that? The comedian looked blankly at Brett, not knowing how to respond. The crowd, with smiles on their faces, had suddenly looked curiously at Carrot Top, a bit confused.

To tell you the truth, Brett…I don’t really know. Carrot Top stood up straight and looked at the crowd, realizing he was losing them a little as he tried to understand why he knew this boy’s name and why he’d been compelled to walk over to him. He seemed a bit dazed as he looked at the crowd that almost appeared to spin a little. He then turned to his right, walking towards stage right as he remained among the crowd. His eyes caught several men, all in suits, and very out of place.

Members of the Nicolo crime family sat and stared down Carrot Top. The comedian got a sense that there was something happening in his theater that he couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it wasn’t funny. He walked back towards the boy and his mother.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this, the comic said as he leaned down whispering towards Sandy. But you both need to leave. Now. Carrot Top shot back up, seemingly returning to perfect form as though he had just snapped out of a trance that the entire audience had just witnessed. The comedian seemed to be the only person oblivious to what had just happened. Back to the stage! he said as he walked towards it.

The crowd apparently thought this was all part of the show. As the Nicolo family watched the comedian, briefly looking at each other as they wondered what just happened, none of them noticed that both Sandy and Brett had both left the theater.

The comic began a routine about the food content in country music lyrics before the Nicolo family members noticed that Sandy and Brett had left the theater. After discovering this the suits immediately bolted out of the theater in search of the two.

A security member of the Luxor watched Sandy and Brett leave, and then the Nicolo’s sudden rush to leave the theater after them and began speaking into a microphone on his jacket.

This is Dale, at post D1, and I think something is happening in the casino. I’m not sure what it is but it doesn’t seem to be right. Something was off in CT’s theater and now I think the problem may be in the casino.

What’s the problem? a voice responded over the walkie-talkie on the man’s jacket.

I don’t know, but I know there is one.

Outside of the front of the theater it appeared as though security guards appeared out of nowhere, more than a dozen of them, looking around for the problem Dale had just transmitted.

As Nicolo family members rolled down the escalator several other security guards ran by them, heading up towards the theater, not realizing that several of the biggest problems ever to walk into the casino had just passed by them.

Fortunately for the casino, it wasn’t their problem.

The same did not apply to Sandra.

Chapter Two

Tell me why you’re here, said Dr. Colton Florian, a red-headed psychologist born in Barnes Green, England who once a week would visit the Card Clinic, a small clinic in Naugatuck, Connecticut. His central office, located in Manhattan, was where he had his primary clients, however, he’d been asked to give his time to the small clinic and graciously accepted the invitation. Typically, a session in Manhattan with Florian would run about $600 an hour, but in Naugatuck he offered his services gratis. His partner, Dr. Alfred Scott, had worked at the clinic for several years and he’d substitute for Scott once a week. Scott then transferred to Boston on the specific day, and Florian simply continued on with the habit of taking over that Wednesday, every week.

I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Florian said to a patient, Michael Manuel. You come in here every week asking me the same thing. I give you the same advice, but it’s only going to positively change your life if it’s advice that you take. You were in a relationship where you were blamed for everything you did wrong and your partner always had an excuse for anything he did wrong. So you not only did what you did wrong, you did what he did wrong as well. That was simply his way. He took no responsibility for anything that he did. That’s just his way, but it isn’t his fault. He was brought up that way as evidenced by the relationships of his relatives that surround him. One need only look at those for the blue print for what you were getting into. They never do anything wrong, his entire family. Michael just sat there. His face red.

I couldn’t let go. I was so upset. I was sending emails and videos. I was in a total panic, said Michael.

You gave this man much more credit than he ever deserved. Half of his ego is a result of you. You knew though, that this guy was not going to be who you had hoped for. You didn’t trust him from the beginning. You didn’t trust anyone though, so it wasn’t all his fault. You need to understand though, nothing is ever his fault. He will live his life not feeling ‘What can we do to make this better,’ but merely ‘Next.’ Once you realize you were just a step to whatever was next, you’ll be better off. You get too caught up emotionally in people who don’t know how to be emotional. They are numb to it. Life is just one big party. He was surrounded by people who judged you without knowing you, and your problem was thinking they might actually care about you, when in fact, they never did. They are not merely related to your ex-partner, they are jealous of him. There’s a sickness there. You knew who he was, but when he’s not with you, he’s someone else. He’s that way with whomever he is with, said Dr. Florian. Michael just nodded his head. You were in love, Michael. That’s ok. It’s alright. You were just in love with the wrong person. You were in love with someone who didn’t love you, didn’t fight for you, and nothing indicates fiction more than that. If he didn’t judge you based on who he knew you to truly be, then he didn’t deserve you. He deserves the life of materialism he will get. It will not end the way he thinks. It never does. A traitor’s path is one that believes they can vanish and pretend the past is not there anymore simply by relocation. However, where ever this person goes, there this person is.

I don’t want him to do badly. It’s not like I want him to hurt, or suffer. He just didn’t realize how much I cared about him. Neither did I, until it was too late.

Dr. Florian leaned towards Michael.

Michael, you know who you are. So does he. Unfortunately, he cares very much about what other people think, and likely spoke so badly about you, that by the time he woke up he realized he’d dug himself too deep a hole. To him, you’re dead. It’s the only way he can go on. This is who he is, and he will never, ever, change. He’s an in the moment person, that’s all, but he’ll never end up anywhere. Winning the lottery wouldn’t even make him happy, because he doesn’t even know who he is. He changes depending on where he is and who he’s with. It’s all just an act. I know this and I’ve never met him. What scares him most about you is accountability to all of those who surround him. You need to move on. He doesn’t make the clothes…the clothes make him.

I know. I am moving on. I’ve been dating someone. I got scared though, being with someone else. It didn’t feel right, said Michael.

It didn’t feel right because it was real to you. You feel as though you were betraying him. But him… he was on to the next mark days later. Days, said Dr. Florian. He was afraid to talk to you because he is not a man who knows how to face anything. He’s a coward. It’s called a narcissistic sociopath. Look it up. His entire family does this. They hide in plain sight, but it will catch up to them. They truly believe that they have done nothing wrong, but most of that is due to the fact that he only told one side of the story and didn’t want them hearing all about it. This is a person who will always be someone’s bitch because it’s the only way he can get ahead. It’s his only talent. He’ll talk himself into thinking he’s doing it on his own, but he isn’t. He can’t. He’s a puppet. A chameleon. He is what he’s surrounded by. You called him out. You were the first to do so, and it’s why he didn’t want his family talking to you. He wanted them all to believe only his side of things, but trust me, they know him better than they admit. It’s simply a new phase of denial now that you uncovered the first phase of it. He made a mistake, but buried himself in lies.

The phone rang in Dr. Florian’s office.

I am so sorry, please forgive me for just a moment, the doctor said, Michael nodding. A serious look came upon Dr. Florian’s face as Michael looked around the room, not really paying attention to the interruption.

Yes. I am available now. I’m just about done with who I’m with so by all means please come here immediately. I am available to speak, most certainly. Hanging up the phone, Dr. Florian looked at his patient.

We’re getting to the end of this session, I’m afraid, Dr. Florian said. Next week, same time?

Michael nodded.

That was a pretty heavy outpouring there, doc. You sure you don’t need to see someone too?

Chapter Three

The events that occurred in Naugatuck had found the world in an uproar over the meaning of life, the lessons we were all meant to learn, and just whether or not science truly played a role in, well, anything at all.

YouTube was inundated with uploads of a scorpion exploding upon the Snoopy float in New York City, and no one knew what to make of the new world that they suddenly saw themselves living in. Celestial beings had rained upon a criminal organization its wrath and, while these creatures seemed to mean the innocent no harm, the security forces around the world were indeed on high alert. What was to make of this all? How would the world respond if these creatures suddenly found more interest in the things of earth than its current vengeance-seeking upon The Nicolo Crime family?

Outside of Frank Delaney and Merton Howard, none of the rest of the world had been able to put together why these creatures appeared and why this family had been targeted. In fact, no one outside of the two Naugatuck officers were privy to the how and why, and most certainly would be committed if they explained what they knew… or that Helen had appeared before them as they sat stunned at the table for which she provided her predictions from.

The words that Helen conveyed to the two were now engraved in their minds like the etchings in a stone.

I’m gonna assume we both saw that, said Frank Delaney as he sat across from Merton.

Yeah. That happened, he replied.

Frank looked towards his glass and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels, readying to pour a drink. He then suddenly put it back down.

I think we’re going to need to be sober from now on. Frank mumbled. Merton just nodded his head in a way that didn’t exactly convey a yes or a no. A sort of shake of his head that expressed bewilderment.

Ya know, Merton said. I once went to a therapist after a shooting. It was the first time I had ever shot anyone, and I couldn’t sleep or eat. I lost weight. I couldn’t think straight. The department made me go to this counselor. I didn’t really want to go. Anyway, I remember something the therapist said. When I told her I wasn’t functioning, that I was ‘seeing things,’ she told me it was what psychologists refer to as a ‘waking dream.’ I was seeing what I wanted to.

Frank sat there stoic.

Well, if you’re the only one who sees something like this, then I suppose you could chalk it up as a waking dream. Two of us saw this though, Frank replied.

Yes, we both saw it, Merton replied.

That’s not a waking dream, Merton. That’s evidence.

What do we do with what we now know? Who do we contact about this? said Merton.

Frank stood up for the first time since he had sat down to drink with Merton, some eight hours