Ramsay

Ramsay Francesca Cruz must come to terms with life, mortality, and the agony of a frustrated love. She is tricked into marrying Dr. Jeffrey Bast, the leader of a powerful and dangerous occult group. The story takes place in New York City and Egypt, with events unfolding into a winner-take-all card game of sudden death, betrayal, and the ultimate cataclysm of the universe. Ramsay is a blend of erotica, mystery, and film noir intrigue.

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RamsayBy Gerard DenzaAuthorHouseCopyright © 2016 Gerard DenzaAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-5049-6667-2ContentsBook I, 1, Chapter – I: The Bus Ride, 3, Chapter – II: Dr Bast, 8, Chapter – III: The Group, 13, Chapter – IV: The Wedding, 24, Chapter – V: Nightmare, 36, Chapter – VI: Egypt, 40, Book II: Julietta, 45, Book III: The Cards, 53, Chapter – I: Francesca, 55, Chapter – II: Kenjiro, 60, Chapter – III: Allyson, 66, Chapter – IV: Armando, 72, Chapter – V: Tana, 75, Chapter – VI: Timothy, 82, Chapter – VII: Lisa, 84, Chapter – VIII: Jeffrey, 88, Book IV: Mark, 93, Chapter – I: The Gymnasium, 95, Chapter – II: The Masters, 98, Chapter – III: "The Accident", 101, Chapter – IV: The Café, 106, Chapter – V: Egypt, Again, 111, Book V: Resurrection, 117, Chapter – I: Ancient Souvenirs, 119, Chapter – II: Carmino, 121, Chapter – III: Resurrection, 131, Chapter – IV: The New Gods, 142, Appendix, 147, CHAPTER 1The Bus RideThe bus driver was silent and so was everyone else in that vehicle which penetrated its way through the darkness and rain. I was sitting in the center of the bus not quite opposite the exit door. Directly behind me was someone steeped in shadows ... a woman, I think. Her presence gave me no comfort at all. I don't derive comfort from other women. Men are my comfort, a spiritual comfort, if you would. Opposite the woman was a young man of about twenty. His blonde hair was cut short, as if not so long ago he had been bald. I didn't like his look or the confused expression on his face. He kept avoiding my glances as though he were frightened of me. I hate stupidity, particularly in a man.None of us were getting off the bus, at least not yet, and no new passengers were getting on. The bus driver was having difficulty navigating through the downpour. The windshield wipers could barely keep off the nearly solid sheets of rain. It felt to me that the rain had chosen this bus as a sacrificial object to be punished and cleansed and destroyed in the process. A sacrament, as I was to learn, could be cruel.I should introduce myself to you. My name is Ramsay Francesca Cruz. I am Spanish by birth and upbringing and I am now on my way to see my sister, Maria. And, quite frankly, I must be out of my mind to travel in such terrible weather. But, my sister and I are closer to each other now than we have ever been, for our entire family is deceased.Looking out the rain splattered window, I see nothing at all ... except my own distorted reflection of a woman who is quite discontent with herself. There are fine lines around my eyes and forehead and, in a strange way, they add to that classic beauty which my sister says I possess. Quite by reflex, I touch my black hair which has been recently cut to just an inch or so above my shoulders. I had just a trace of a perm put into it to give it that "lift" which I feel my face now needs.On the seat next to me is my black, overnight bag. Gently, I pat it with my gloved hand; a gesture which gives me comfort. My beautiful black, patent leather purse is on my lap. It was a birthday present from a beloved aunt who I think of every day. Quickly, I take out the lipstick and compact for a tiny repair job. My lipstick, another present from Aunt Francesca, is a black enameled case with tiny crystal studs about its length. The lipstick is my fav

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