The pain was incredible! Just when he didn't think he could run another step, new urges would force him forward. He could barely breathe for the pain, each pounding step sent burning sensations up his legs. He couldn't stop, because if they caught him there would be no telling what would happen to him. There had to be some place! Some place where he could hide and be safe!

The wet pavement suddenly seemed to slip out from under his smooth soled dress shoes and threw him to into the corner of a bay window. His body was reeling from the sudden stop, but he could hear them behind him. His desperation forced him to his feet and his hand yanked open the door to the ancient New Orleans shop. A dark head looked up at him as he stood with his back to the door and his chest heaved with pain from every breath.

"Help me!" he gasped.

She ran out from behind the counter she was sitting and rushed to his aid. She pushed him to his left and proceeded to tuck him under a seat of a bay window. There was no door; no covering and anyone could've seen him if they had entered the shop.

Suddenly the door opened and the fearsome crowd was there. All that stood between him and them was a tiny slip of a girl with wild curly black hair and pale white skin.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Did you see someone come in here?" one of the young girls panted.

"No. Whoever you are looking for isn't here." She said with a strict tone.

"No, I saw him come in here." A second girl said.

"You did not see what you thought. You are going to leave." The woman said.

"Come on, Becky. He's not here, let's go." The first girl said, taking the others with her. The second girl was not easily swayed.

"I know I saw him come in here." She insisted.

"I said get out." The woman said.

"Okay, whatever." Then second girl finally left.

The woman went to where he was curled in a ball, under the bay window and held out her hand. Fear paralyzed him as she reached out to him.

"You're safe now. Please. Come out." She said. He crawled out and took her offer to help him up. Her hand was warm to the touch and strong. "See?" she said, "Everything is going to be all right."

"Thank you. . ." he said, still trying to catch his breath.

"Come here, sit by the fire. You must be chilled to the bone. You're soaked through." She said, taking him to a roaring fire to the right of the store's front door. He hesitated as they passed the window. Someone was peering in. Almost absently, she waved an open palm between the peering girl and him. "She can not see you. C'mon now, it's all right, sit." She helped him out of his sports coat and hung it on a round rack by the fire. She directed him toward a high-backed chair with a matching ottoman.

The shop was an old bookstore with bookshelves reaching to the ceiling. The cashier's counter was directly in front of the door, about half way back. The fireplace sat to the right of both, before the counter. It was an old stone fireplace, decorated with an old Oriental rug spread out before the hearth in faded colors of red and gold. It smelled of warmth and old books.

She pulled his shoes off without asking and placed them near his jacket to dry. She left him there and returned shortly with a wash cloth. His breathing was still rapid and broken, and the chill she spoke of was starting to set in. She put the cloth to his face and it was wet and warm. It smelled of lavender and he involuntarily breathed it in. She set to wiping the sweat and grime from his face and then his hands from when he had fallen. His body gave out a shiver and she reached for the bottom of his cable knit sweater.

"You are too wet, this needs to come off. Don't fuss." She chided him and she pulled it up over his head to reveal nothing but a white tee shirt. "I will get you a blanket." She appeared with a blue and gray quilt that smelled of the same lavender. He leaned forward and she wrapped it around his shoulders and tucked it around his chest. She pulled up the ottoman and sat there facing him.

She had the most incredible dark eyes he had ever seen. They were pools of obsidian. Her wild dark hair was restrained by a clip at the top of her head and one at the nape of her neck and fell to the middle of her back. She was shorter than he was. She wore a gray baby-tee and a relaxed cut of jeans with a casual black shoe. She wore no jewelry that he could tell. Her skin was startling white and utterly flawless, almost translucent. She acted as though she had no idea who he was.

"My name is Raven." She said, smiling. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are."

His breath had returned and he put out his best show biz handshake.

"My name is Howie."

She shook his hand. "It is nice to meet you Howie." She smiled. "Do you mind if I ask why those girls were chasing you?"

"They are fans."

"Fans?" she asked, "Are you famous?"

"Yes, you could say that." He said, lifting an unbelieving eyebrow. She really didn't seem to know who he was.

"Should I?"

"Huh?"

"Should I know who you are?" she asked, "Are you an actor?"

"No." he smiled.

"But you want to be." She guessed.

"Yes, someday, maybe. I'm with the Backstreet Boys." He said, but she only shook her head. "We're a pop singing group."

"I'm afraid I don't have a radio." She said.

"Do you watch MTV?" he asked, but she looked at him like she didn't understand. "It's on TV."

"I don't have a TV." She nodded.

No wonder she hadn't heard of them, he thought. She only had these old books.

"I only have these books." She said, waving to the shelves. "Let me get you some tea to help warm you." She said getting to her feet.

Howie stared into the fire and shook his head. This was a rarity for sure. He might have actually met someone had no idea of who the Backstreet Boys were. What a trip. When she returned, she handed him a white ceramic mug with an herbal tea that was one of his favorites. She had nursed it with lemon and honey.

"Are you on a trip?" she asked.

"What? How did you know?" he asked as she sat with her cup on the ottoman.

"You aren't from here." She said.

"No, I'm from Orlando. That's in Florida."

She let out a little giggle. "I know where Orlando is. Is your tea all right? Is it how you like it?"

"Yes, it's perfect." He said.

"Good, it isn't often I meet men who like to sweeten their tea." She smiled, "So, Howie, do you read?"

"Uh, sure." He replied.

"Good. I have a book I think you will like. You can read it while you sit here and dry off." She handed him a old hardcopy of a graying book, titled: "The Spanish Invasion."

"It is a wonderful story. It's actually fiction, but good fiction." She said, standing over him. "I need to go and work on the receipts for today. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, thank you." He said. She slid the ottoman near his feet and he stretched out his legs and set his feet down.

A clap of thunder wailed in the distance, but they paid it no mind. The fire roared at his feet and she toiled at the counter with paper and pencil. He opened the book and began at chapter one.

The storm raged on for hours after he fell asleep. His dreams took him far away from the screaming fans, the demands of his work and worries of his family. The heat from the fire began to enter his body and he stayed where he was until she woke him a few hours later.

Her hand gently lay on his knee, shaking him hesitantly. "Howie?" she asked, peering down at him. "Howie, you need to wake up. I'm afraid you will be late if I let you sleep much longer."

His brown eyes opened on to her smiling face and her warm hand smoothing his cheek, one finger tracing the line along his bearded jaw. A manicured finger tapped the tip of his nose. "It is time for you to go." She smiled.

How could he move? He had never felt like this before. He was so warm and comforted that he almost decided he never wanted to leave. She took his sweater from the chair, gave it a shake, brushing some debris from the back, and then picked up his shoes. He had sat up; setting the book that had been resting across his chest aside on a side table. She handed him his shoes first. He sat up and laid the blanket back instantly sending a shiver down his body. She bunched up the sweater and carefully placed it over his head. She pulled his ponytail from the collar as he pulled his arms through the sleeves and adjusted them. Her hands ran down his arms and she took his hands.

"This should help drive that nasty chill from you." She gave his hands a gentle tug, encouraging him to lean down toward her. Her cheek grazed his and he felt heady from the scent of her. She lingered with her cheek against his and Howie pulled away first.

"How can I thank you?" he whispered.

"There's no need. I enjoyed having you. I sometimes don't have visitors for long periods of time." She smiled with a shrugged. "It's I who should be thanking you."

"I was hardly good company. I fell asleep." He joked.

"You were running pretty hard when you hit my window. You must ache all over. Here, I want you to take this." She said, letting go of his hands and reaching around him to pick up the book. She handed it to him for him to take. He took it and tucked it under his arm. "I think you'll finish it some day."

"I think so, too. It is a great story." He said. "How much to I owe you?"

"For what? The book, oh, nothing. It's a gift." She said.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, they are my books. I can give them to anyone I want." She laughed. "Here, I can even give you a bookmark." She went to the counter and brought back a paper bookmark. She took the book from under his arm and tucked it into the pages. She playfully lifted his arm and tucked it back under. He chuckled with her.

"Thank you, Raven. I almost don't want to leave." He said, taking her hands this time.

"You can't stay. I have to close up soon." She said, looking up at him. Her left hand left his and she reached for his face again. It seemed she was fighting something by the way she hesitated. He trapped her hand in his and brought it to his face. She traced the line of his bearded jaw again, her fingertips coming to rest under his chin. He leaned in, pulling her into his arms, but she turned her face away as his lips barely grazed hers. She slipped her arms around his body and buried her face into his sweater. He could feel his heart racing beneath her cheek. She pushed away and took a couple steps back.

"You need to go, you're going to be late." She said.

"Can I call you? I'm in town until tomorrow night, can I stop by again?" he asked.

"I don't think you'll ever need to." She smiled.

"Of course I do. I'll need to see you." He said.

She walked by him and opened the door. She was smiling warmly at him as she held door for him. "C'mon now!" she laughed, "I can't have you being late for your singing tonight."

He returned her smile as he reached for his jacket. He pulled it on as he walked toward the open door. He put one arm around her, pulled her close, and simply kissed her cheek.

"Good-bye, Howie." She whispered.

"What the hell happened to you?!?!" AJ declared as Howie walked down the aisle of the venue to the stage.

"Damn, Howie! When those girls took off after us and we lost track of you we thought you were a goner! You just disappeared around that one corner!"

Brian and Kevin ran out from backstage, hearing AJ's declaration across the sound system during his sound check. Both of his friends embraced him.

"Are you okay?" Brian asked urgently.

"I'm fine." Howie laughed slapping Kevin's arm to reassure him. "I ran into this bookstore and hid out. I ended up falling asleep in front of this fire she had going."

"She?" AJ asked, peering down at the three as they stood in front of the stage. "There's a woman involved in this story?" he asked devilishly.

"Yes, she owns the bookstore." Howie said.

"Does she have a name?" Kevin asked.

"Howie?!" Nick declared, walking up stage to meet the others, "I heard AJ say you were here. . .what happened to you?"

"He met a woman," AJ smirked, "and slept over at her place."

"AJ, I did not! I. . ." Howie began, but they heard the costumer holler out for them to get backstage and get dressed. They abandoned Howie's story for a later time.

It wasn't until the next morning before Howie had a chance to tell his story. Nick had flooded into his room with his breakfast room service. The rest weren't far behind. The four others picked at Howie's food as he told the story of her hiding him out, drying his clothes and wrapping him in a blanket and giving him the book and tea. The tea was one of his favorites and she had doctored it for him perfectly, but he hadn't told her anything about himself. She seemed to just know what he was thinking, know what he needed.

AJ chided him, saying she probably knew all about him and was just playing him. He ridiculed Howie for being a hopeless romantic and that she had just made a fool of him. Brian piped up, defending Howie's notion that the girl didn't know who he was. They had lost him in the mysterious French Quarter, she could've been some voodoo princess. Nick's imagination went wild with that and even suggested they use the concept for a video. Kevin seemed to be the only one who noticed when Howie turned away from their meaningless chatter to walk to the hotel window. Kevin followed him, seeing Howie peer vacantly out the window to the street far below them.

"She had some affect on you." Kevin said quietly. The look in Howie's eyes said it all to Kevin.

"AJ's wrong." Howie whispered.

"Of course he is, what the heck does he know?" Kevin smiled. "We have the afternoon off and I'd like to meet her. Why don't we go back today?" Howie glanced at the others as they cleared his plates, "We don't have to tell them." Kevin added.

"No, I want them to come, too." Howie said with a nodded.

Nick and Brian were game, but AJ flatly refused. Kevin threw him over his shoulder and dumped him the last seat of the minivan under loud protest. Their driver took them past the record store where they had been mobbed and Howie sat up front, pointing out where he had left the others and the route he had taken. Howie seemed to know exactly where he had been, because he found the corner where he had caught the cab back to the venue for the show. He couldn't pin point where the bookstore was exactly, so he demanded the driver stop and they all get out.

Howie began to walk down the street he swore where the bookstore was, but there was no bookstore on this block. They stopped in front of two boarded up stores, one was a shoe repair and the other an old dry cleaners. He looked around and then pointed across the street.

"It has to be here. I remember the old barber pole that was across the street." He headed over there without a hesitation.

"This is nuts!" AJ declared, "There are probably a hundred barber poles in this old part of the city."

Brian and Nick followed Howie and Kevin grabbed AJ by the back of his shirt. "I believe everyone is headed in this direction." He smiled sweetly. With dramatic flare, AJ was forced along by Kevin's insistence.

Howie went into the barbershop to see just three old black men. Two were sitting around a checkerboard talking. The third man was sweeping up after a hair cut. They seemed all right with three of them, but eyed AJ suspiciously with Kevin hovering over him.

"Excuse me?" Howie began.

"Michael?" one of the old men asked, seemingly leaning forward to see him better. "Come here, boy." He encouraged.

"Uh. . ."Howie began.

"That's not Michael." A second one said.

"I'm not Michael, my name is Howard." He said.

"Who is Michael?" Brian asked.

The men glanced at each other. "Where you from, boy?" the first asked.

"Me? I'm from Orlando, Florida." Howie said.

"No, not you, him." The second man said, pointing to Brian.

"Me? I'm from Kentucky." Brian smiled.

"What's your name?" the first man asked.

"Brian, Brian Littrell." He said. "This is Nick, AJ and my cousin, Kevin."

The man considered his answer. "Nope, don't know any Littrell's from Kentucky." The first man nodded.

"I was wondering, what happened to the bookstore?" Howie asked.

"What bookstore?" the second man asked.

"The one that was across the street yesterday." Howie insisted.

"Dang, boy, that's an old shoe store and laundry. There's no bookstore on this street." The first man said.

"I was here yesterday, maybe you saw me. I was being chased. . ."

"Oh, I remember that." The first man said. "You had that brown jacket on and all those girls chasing you. You just ran on down the street. The girls seemed to get lost and some doubled back here, but you must've given them the slip. A good looking boy like you." He smiled with a wink.

"NO!" Howie said in frustration. "I know it was here. I remember walking out and seeing this place. There was a girl there, her name was Raven. . ." and with that the third man who had been silent slammed down this broom and declared, "I'm not listening to another minute of this." He pushed his way past AJ and Kevin, grabbed his coat and hat and left the shop.

"Oh, oh. Now you've done it." The second man said.

"I didn't do anything. He did it." The first man said, pointing to Howie.

"What is going on?" Brian asked. The two men exchanged looks and set aside their checkers game.

"This is just nuts." AJ sighed. "We obviously are on the wrong street, or Howie is making up this whole thing."

"No, you're on the right street." The second man sighed. "Did she give you that book?" he asked, holding out his weathered hand for it. Howie handed it over to him. He opened it and found the bookmark that had been new yesterday, but was old and brittle today.

"Where is the bookstore? Where is Raven?" Howie asked impatiently.

"Sit down, son. C'mon, all you boys sit down over here." The first man said, waving them all in close. Nick plopped right down on the floor in front of the men, close enough for one of them to reach out and tousle his blond head. The man handed Howie back his book.

"No one had seen Raven in a long time." The first man began. "I think you may be the first in 5 years. Her shop was right there," he pointed across the street and the two that were boarded up, "but her brother sold the building after her death."

"What? But I just saw her yesterday." Howie declared.

"I know, son. Harold, the man who just left, he's seen her, too. That was nearly 40 years ago. . .he's still in love with her to this day." The man said.

Howie was totally confused, shaking his head in disbelief. "You see," the old man continued, "Raven Dwayne died 42 years ago, yesterday, of the influenza. She was beautiful, wasn't she? Petite as a mouse, just the perfect size for you, right? Black curly hair, black eyes, and beautiful white skin. She was the classic Cajun girl next door." He smiled at Howie.

"Howie's middle name is Dwaine." Nick said quietly.

"Is that so? What's your last name?" the old man asked.

"Dorough." Howie said. Both the men nodded together, "She was engaged to marry a Dorough, Michael Dorough. I don't know what ever happened to him, I think he left for New York."

"This can't be. I was being chased and ran into the corner of the bay window and fell backwards. I was able to get up and get inside the shop. She hid me under a window seat and made the girls leave. She took my jacket, shoes and sweater to be dried by the fire. I had this quilt she wrapped me in and she gave me tea, that book and I fell asleep by the fire." Howie said, rubbing his forehead, trying to make it all clearer. "She. . . ."

"What?" the first old man asked.

"At one point there was this one girl who was looking in the window. She could see me, but Raven did this thing with her hand and said the girl couldn't see me and I watched the girl outside leave."

"Raven's family was an old Cajun clan in New Orleans. I had heard tales of her using magic, but it wasn't anything they ever spoke of." The second old man said.

"She made the tea, exactly how I like it. She seem to be able to read my mind." Howie said, his fingers traced the path her fingers had taken down his own bearded jaw line remembering her touch lightly following it's line.

"She's good at that. She knows what people need. If you're wondering, Michael had a beard, too." The first old man said.

"How did this all happen?" Howie asked this wizened man.

"You may have just hit your head harder than you thought. Maybe you were inside that building, I sure don't remember seeing you go in or out."

"How did that other guy see her?" Nick asked.

"Harold? He had been thrown from his horse about a mile from her family's home just outside of town. She rode up to him on that stormy night and took him to where his horse had finally stopped running. She followed him back to his barn, but once the horse was cleaned and put away, she was gone." The second old man said. "He has loved her to this day. Never did marry, poor man."

"How did I get the book?" Howie asked.

But both the men just shrugged, "I just don't know." The first said.

"Did Harold get anything? Like Howie did?" Nick asked.

"My goodness you're full of questions." The second man laughed patting Nick's head. "No, Harold didn't get anything, but he's not a Dorough either."

"When I saw her, she was dressed in modern clothes and had a modern hairstyle." Howie said, grasping on to any detail he had.

The old men nodded, "The last time I've heard of anyone seeing Raven was some 5 years ago. They said the same thing. I can't tell you why she does it."

"What happened 5 years ago?" Brian asked.

"Oh goodness. This boy was high, taking drugs out back of the building when he saw her. He said she washed his face with a warm, wet wash cloth that smelled. ."

". .like lavender." Howie finished.

"Did that happened to you, too?" Kevin asked.

Howie only nodded, "My face and hands, they were muddy from falling on the wet pavement. I had told her I would come back to visit, but she said I no longer had a need to."

"For whatever reason, she was there to help you. Maybe through the veil she sensed that you were a Dorough, I just don't know."

The first man said, "All the stories I've heard about Raven have been those of her helping dark-haired, dark- skinned men who were in some sort of danger."

"Perhaps she's still here looking for Michael." AJ offered. The first old man narrowed his eyes on AJ, as though sizing him up.

"I can't say for sure, but I know that she has a profound effect on these men." Without a word, Kevin gave Howie's shoulder a squeeze and a hand rubbed his back reassuringly.

The old man closest to Howie laid his hand on Howie's arm, "She came to you because you needed her help. Only you know what really happened while you were in her care, but remember she helped you so you could live. Don't spend anymore time looking for her." He said.

Months later, Nick was alone on the bus absently picking up things they had lazily thrown about. Howie refused to discuss Raven, although he had settled down to finish the book. Nick was the most curious, wondering if Howie had spoken to his dad about them having family in New Orleans or New York, but he never found out. Howie just flat out refused to discuss her or what happened. No one else asked if they could read the book and he never offered it to them. He kept it in his bunk, tucked between the wall and his pillow. Nick was very surprised when he found it on the floor under some dirty clothes.

He picked it up and gingerly fingered the pages. He opened the cover and saw a faint handwritten inscription.

"To my dearest Howard, a little book I've enjoyed a plenty of times. Your loving cousin, Raven."

Holy! Nick tossed it up on Howie's bunk. God, that was creepy.

"Hey Nick, what? Dang, you look like you've seen a ghost." Brian said as he, AJ and Kevin entered the bus.

"It's Howie's book."

"Man, you touched it?" AJ asked.

"No, I found it on the floor. She wrote his name in it!" Nick declared.

"What? That's insane." Kevin said, reaching over Brian to pick the book up where Nick had tossed. "Jeez."

"Creepy, huh?" Nick said as Brian and AJ peered into the book.

"It's all old and faded. . .," AJ said.

"Look at this." Kevin said, pointing to the title page.

The author of the book was no other than Michael H. Dorough.

"Put that thing away, I'm getting the creeps!" AJ declared, jumping away from Kevin. Kevin gently closed the pages and tucked it behind Howie's pillow where they all knew he kept it.

"We won't mention this to him." Brian said.

"No, we shouldn't." Kevin said. "This is about Howie, not us. This is something he doesn't have to share."

"What if he never gets over it?" Nick asked.

"He has. He's gone out with that one girl a couple of times." Brian said. "And she's a blonde."

"Do you think he looks for her? Like in the audiences." Nick asked.

"Stop it, right now." Kevin said. "Leave him alone. She gave him the book and took good care of him."

"You talk about her like she was real or something." AJ said.

"To Howie she was." Kevin said.

"How can you say she wasn't real? Look at that book." Nick asked.

"This isn't something to gossip about." Kevin said angrily. "You're all just pissed because he has an experience on this tour of his own and it didn't involve all of the Backstreet Boys."

"C'mon Kev. . ."AJ began.

"Stop it, I mean it." Kevin demanded. "I'm going to change my shirt, then we've got to get inside for the meet and greet."

"Well, I'll get a head start on y'all and go see if I can find Howie. He said he was going for a walk." AJ said, heading out. Kevin was glad that AJ had ultimately supported Howie through this.

Nick dumped the armload of laundry he had gathered into a basket in the back of the bus. He and Brian left to go inside as Kevin was yanking a clean shirt off a hanger in the closet. He buttoned the green silk down his chest and slipped on a gray vest he left opened. As he stepped from the bus, fans screamed for him from the security gate around the parking lot. He gave them a wave and a smile and headed inside.

There must have been a hundred people for this luncheon and Kevin lasted for about 45 minutes before he gave into his urges to bolt. He found his way on stage. He crossed over it and climbed down off of it into the front staging area and over the barricade, into the seats. He saw someone sitting a ways back and she stood and waved to him. So much for escaping the attention, he was getting. She made her way toward him and he toward her.

"Had to get away from the crowd, huh?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, I hope that doesn't sound too bad." He smiled down at her.

"No, I understand. I'm not one for crowds either these days." She said, her dark eyes casting down at the floor and his feet. Kevin was towering over her and he assumed that he was making her uncomfortable, so he stepped back.

"Are you a fan?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

She started walking away from him, toward the stage.

"Yes." She nodded, but Kevin could only see the back of her head. He followed her, assuming they were returning to the luncheon backstage. He easily gained on her shorter strides and at one point was a whole step ahead of her.

"How long have you been a fan?" he asked.

"Not long." She answered.

"How'd you get in?"

"Thank you, Kevin. You've done so much for him." He heard her say.

"Huh? Who?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. He turned back to face her, but she was gone. A sweet scent of lavender rose in his nostrils and he felt goose bumps rise on his skin. The curly hared, dark eyed girl was gone.

"Oh my god. . ." he whispered.

"Hey, Kev!" Howie called from the stage. "Dude, whatcha' doing out here by yourself?"

"Nothing, uh, nothing. Just getting some air." Kevin said, turning toward Howie. He walked back to the stage and climbed up to stand by Howie. Kevin turned one last time and looked out over the empty auditorium. Howie playfully punched his arm, called him ‘big fella' and waved to have Kevin follow him back to the party. He followed Howie back through all the wires and equipment to the backstage area.

He never expected Howie to share any more of his experience with Raven, so he didn't feel the need to share his either. It was enough to know that she was watching out for Howie and now that she was a fan, probably looking out for all of them.