by Jason Fuquea
The private garden is extravagant and pristine, seemingly communal used by three other adjacent houses, all Victorian and huge. The wrought iron gate entering into the garden is cracked open slightly. “I guess Chester is in a hurry.” His scent tracked down going into a lower entrance secured by another locked gate and more iron fencing, plus what looked like panning security cameras.
Flowering bushes lined the path going down so I couldn’t make out much more from the edge of the garden where I’m standing. I have a great sense of smell and can locate where he has placed each foot, but it wouldn’t last. I use the air, not the ground for my scent gathering so I need to do something soon.
“I’ve never seen a Vampire. If I break a camera maybe one will come out.” I’m standing about fifty yards from the back door of the house at the edge of the garden impossible to see. I moved into my rhythm, then ran over to the camera breaking it and back, all with time slowed.
I stood back where I started, watching the camera I had just destroyed, time caught up, and the camera fell as if gravity just realized it was there. The camera parts made a jingling thudding sound while clanging around on the ground below.
A few moments later a man in combat fatigues that carried a handgun walked out of the basement entrance and opened the locked gate. He walked up the steps from the basement toward the garden.
I made no attempt to move. He looked up at where the camera used to be mounted, and down to the ground where the debris is now strewn and scratched his head. “Is that hired security, or a Vampire or both?” I wondered. I can’t tell if the man is vamp due to Chester’s scent now lingering, coating the garden in a fog of vamp smell. If he is a vamp, he isn’t like me. “Nothing is like you,” she said inside my mind.
I pushed her back and continued to watch the man in fatigues. His eyes are green with no power radiating from them of any kind. He’s not smiling so I can’t tell if he has fangs.
I moved slowly, and bent down to smell a pink primrose below me in a flower bed, purposefully alerting the man to my position. He looked in my direction, then spoke into his comms unit, “We have a figure dressed in black – far east side – in the back garden - requesting backup.”
“Back-up?” I said under my breath. “Did Vampires call for backup?” This doesn’t seem right.
About thirty seconds later two other men arrived and flanked the first. I still can’t distinguish whether or not these guys are Vampires, but I highly doubt it. “Ma’am you’re on private property.” The first man shouted toward me. “I need you to exit the premises now.”
“Sweetie, this garden is simply divine, I don’t want to leave if it’s all the same to you. You see, I was just out taking a late-night stroll and found your lovely garden and thought I’d stop in for a while, it’s really nice, nothing like my place.” The three men walking closer stopped about 15 feet from me.
“What the hell is wrong with her eyes?” one man said to the other two in a whisper. Overhearing their comment about my eyes I said, “You three like my new glow in the dark contacts?”
If I am part Vampire is taunting them the same as playing with my food? The other voice and I both let out a quiet laugh. I will admit this does seem a lot like what Buddy does to the mice he catches in our apartment.
Before today I would have never gone out after dark, and never been so aggressive, in fact, I would have been scared to death. I am becoming somewhat of a predator, even protective of Chester for some reason. I still have no idea what’s up with the other voice in my head, but whatever.
I started my taunting of the men again after they didn’t respond. “Just a warning your three, I don’t like to be touched, so hands off the goods.” After speaking I giggled as if I were slightly drunk.
“Something’s wrong with her,” the first guy said. “I don’t think those are contacts and she’s not moving, not at all, not even breathing.” The first guy raised his firearm and pointed it at me.
“Now you’re going to pull your gun on a lady, when it’s three of you and one of me, just for being in your garden?” I asked sweetly. “Are you three scared of something?”
The three men are in front of me in a half-circle fanned out with one man directly in front and the other two several feet apart on both the left and right sides. “This looks like trained tactical positioning, so yea, they had to be hired guns,” I reasoned. “On the other hand could I even withstand a bullet fired at close range?”
The first guy started whispering on his comms again, “I’m not sure what we have out here. Ask Marcus to come up. Something is off with this girl.”
“Whose Marcus?” I said to the guy talking on the comms unit.” No one replied to my question. I shrugged at the silence waiting for Marcus.
About 10 seconds later another figure came out of the basement door and up the stairs. This man is not in combat fatigues but in a suit and tie. He’s tall, about six foot four and looks like he can take care of himself. His shirt stretched at the arms, failing completely with the task of accommodating the man’s bulging biceps. His dark-colored head is shaved, and he walks with purpose as if he has a hundred things on his mind and this is just another something hindering other more important things he is doing.
“He smells like Chester’s wine and that isn’t good for him,” I thought. This is a Vampire through and through. Strangely he had a deep red tattoo on his forehead looking like the symbol of an upside-down A. Maybe it was a scar. For some reason, my predator side remained nonplused at his presence.
Marcus walked up butting past the other three men to stand about 10 feet from me. His eyes are different, not human, and nothing like my eyes. His eyes are yellow, and dull inside without the spark of life swirling and pulsating like mine.
“Marcus, before you start asking me questions, I think it’s fair to warn you that I’m a lady and don’t want to be touched, so please keep your hands off,” I said extenuating my raspy Southern accent.
At those words, Marcus seems to hesitate slightly. I doubt anyone and most certainly not a female has ever spoken to him this way before. Observing the facial expressions of the security personnel I can guarantee no one ever has. I can smell a change in his scent, it’s getting musty, but I can’t make out if he’s getting mad or just concerned.
“I don’t know who you are, but this garden is private, and you need to leave,” Marcus said impatiently. I didn’t answer. I know Marcus demands respect, so I can’t think of a better way to piss him off than to stay quiet.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll remove you from the grounds,” he said in a low commanding growl. I looked around at the plants and shrubs in the garden, ignoring Marcus all together.
“This is such a beautiful night wouldn’t you say. I was just out for a walk and am really glad I found this garden; I think I’ll stay,” I said to the guys in combat fatigues, turning my back to the men again in a show of dominance.
“Lady, I don’t know why you are here or who you are, and I really don’t want to do the paperwork if you get killed, but if you don’t answer Marcus, he’s going to hurt you.” The guy to my left said looking worried. He is one of the two called in for reinforcements by number one.
“Don’t worry, sugar, Marcus isn’t going to do anything to me,” I replied while turning around pointing a finger directly at the suited man.
At that moment Marcus lost control. A few things happened all at once. Marcus, while standing still, screams an inhuman scream toward the sky. He moved his arms away from his side, stretching them out, and slightly twisting them in what seems like a warning gestures toward the men.
The men in combat fatigues ran toward the house shouting profanities. “In my rhythmic movement I could have gone home and taken a nap then came back to still be waiting for whatever this was to go down,” I thought. But I really did want to see what would happen. I’m expecting fangs to erupt from Marcus’s jaw, or wings
to shoot out of his back, heck I don’t know, but so far that isn’t happening.
Marcus is starting to wrench in pain grasping at his own throat. His mouth growing larger and his jaws elongating transforming in front of my eyes.
After a few seconds he slumped to the grass and I watched as his spine reformed and snapped in and out of place adjusting his size. His fingers sprouted hooked six-inch claws that looked like black kitchen knives.
Long brown bristles of hair jetted across his skin in waves that started from his feet and moved across his entire body almost instantly. It took maybe twenty seconds for his complete change to happen.
Standing before me animal-like; growling, slobbering, and panting is what I can only imagine to be an honest to freaking God Werewolf. He stood on his hind legs circling me.
The Werewolf took in a huge breath then let out a bone-chilling howl at the full moon above. Balanced he searched for the kill spot, he composed his movements as all predators do, crouched, then at faster than human speed lunged for me.
I knew instinctually this creature held no threat to me. Logically, I guessed his mass from the pre-shifted form, and the maximum obtainable force possible by his leaping momentum, simply put I am a wall and he is a fly.
“I doubt he would be much of a threat to a Vampire either, but I guess Werewolves are pack hunters, aren’t they?” I thought shrugging my shoulders. I allowed the Werewolf to attack me without resistance.
He came at me with his full brute force and rage slashing down with razor-like claws and clinching teeth. I stood motionless, analyzing his attack like the new predator I am, feeling his breath on my face as it came into my personal space.
His right-hand killing claws struck me first. The downward force of the blow more powerful than his razor-like talons can withstand. On contact, it seems friction and force are working against the Werewolf. For whatever reason, at the height of his attack, his claws abruptly stopped on my icy skin. At the same time, his actual fingers continued to move effectively ripping the talons from their finger sheaths and breaking his fingers.
Blood sprayed and gore like fragments showered me from his now ruined fingers that are entirely separated from their claws. His claws did not penetrate my skin but instead fell to the garden floor detached from their bloody twisted nub fingers.
In an instinctive movement, the adrenalin-enraged Werewolf extended to his full seven-foot height forcing his open jaws down caging my head with a crunching tromping sound. In one savage undertaking, he tries to ragdoll me. Twisting his body, moving his muscles with all the momentum he can summon executing the attack.
With a splitting cracking sound his jawbone fractures and starts to sag. His four-inch teeth splintered and broke at the conclusion of the motion. Werewolf teeth are now decimated laying in shards and falling in fragments from his bloody mouth.
In an instant, the Werewolf fell to the ground whimpering. I looked down at the Werewolf then back up at the three men that watched the fight go down. “Oddly Werewolves don’t have tails,” she said inside my head. I chuckled at the inappropriately timed thought.
I picked up the heaving mass without effort and walked casually, human slow through the grass, toward the basement entrance. The Werewolf’s good hand lay splayed dragging the ground and leaving a trail of blood scattered behind me. I’m just the same now as before the fight, except my silver cross is now dangling free and glinting with moonlight from the scuffle.
Two of the security team guys now had their guns pointed at me. I walked toward them without concern, and said, “Sweetheart, you, the one without a gun pointed at me. Would you be so kind as to open the basement door, please? You other two, carry on. If I’d just watched what you two did, I’d have my guns out too.” I continued to walk toward the basement.
Chapter 6
The Blood Distillery
The security guy that isn’t holding a gun on me opened the basement door. Immediately, I could hear three other distinct heartbeats. Two seem to have a human rhythm, the other much fainter and slower. The odd heartbeat had roughly half as many beats as a human with much less resistance, a slow wet flutter.
I stepped into what looked like a foyer, my wolf baggage leaked all over the floor as I entered, but I didn’t care. A human, most likely Chester, is on the other side of the closed door to my right. I can smell the blood alcohol reeking from the cracks at the top and bottom of the door.
The other human-like heartbeat is from a female making her way closer, but not yet in view. She has on flowery perfume and jingling jewelry. The most characteristic heartbeat was much farther northeast of where I’m standing, and is stationary.
Through a cracked closet door to my left, I can make out tactical gear and coats. This foyer room has a ceiling of about twelve feet high and is decorated in the expected Victorian-style motif and consisted of classic black and white photos with antique furniture and hand-crafted rugs throughout. The basement has a pungent musty smell, probably because it’s so hard to keep water out of lower levels here in New Orleans.
Just ahead I can see a larger reception type room adorned with two stark white couches, a chair, along with walls covered in elaborate red wallpaper. A large chandelier hangs in the middle of the room designating its formality. It seems this is the formal waiting room or parlor. In a prior life, this basement could have been a dentist office or taxidermy.
“Want me to put him over there?” I asked the now pale man in fatigues that opened the basement door. He nodded, and I walked forward, and deposited the raggedly breathing half-Werewolf body on the stark white couch. Marcus has already started changing back to his former shape. “My guess is that shifting will help him heal,” I thought, completely guessing.
A beautiful, red-haired lady entered the room. She has milky white skin and yellow eyes with flowing blood-red hair down to her mid-back. Her eyes are the same color as Marcus’s before the shift, a dull yellow but not glowing. She is about my height and build, except normal and not altered as I am. She certainly could pass for human where I never could again.
Standing for a few seconds without speaking, observing the room, the well-dressed woman said, “Shoot her in the head!” She yelled in an irritated tone at the men in combat fatigues.
She didn’t wolf-out as I expected, her eyes started to water, and she hurried over to Marcus. “Her jewelry jingled with every step.” She caressed his half-wolf face and listened to his heart to be sure he’s still alive, like a lover would. I guessed. She looked up from Marcus and over at me coldly.
“Kill her now,” Victoria spoke forcing her volume higher.
“Victoria, I don’t think we can help you with that. Not that we are disobeying you, we just can’t because she’s not human.” The man letting me in said carefully.
“Hello, Sir Chester,” I said without turning around. Chester came out of his room seeing what was going on.
“Madam Alice, it is quite unexpected to see you here on this now auspicious evening. Christina is resting, but I can get you a cup of tea if the hour is not too late.” Chester said.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed, “How in the hell do you know this woman, Chester?”
Chester replied, “Alice is a friend and frequent passerby who enjoys the sound of Christina almost daily.”
“So, you brought her here to kill us?” raged Victoria.
I interrupted and said, “Victoria, Chester had no idea I followed him. What he said is true. I love listing to him play, but earlier today when he took a swig from his flask, I smelled something more than alcohol. I smelled blood and I assumed Chester was mixed up in something that could hurt him. I have no idea why I took an interest in finding out more, but here we are, and that’s the honest truth.”
Chester sighed at my words and then Victoria spoke, “I should have known a vagrant would follow you home, Chester. You stand on corners playing all day as if destitute right b
eside the filth of New Orleans. See what you’ve done to us, and after all we’ve done for you? You have probably gotten us all killed.”
I responded to Victoria’s tirade at Chester, “Chester, I think I’ll have that cup of tea now, and Victoria, I’ll have nothing more said about how I came to be here. I didn’t raise a hand to defend myself when Marcus tried to kill me, ask your men. I simply stood in the garden talking. Marcus is injured due to his own actions, not mine, and not Chester’s.”
Chester turned and walked away as I finished my rant. “Impossible.” Victoria laughed ignoring me. “Marcus is one of the strongest Werewolves in our clan, no one could do this unless they ambushed him. Not even a true Vampire could beat him barehanded.” While I doubt the part about the Vampire is true, I still need to shut her up.
“Victoria, I’m not a Vampire, exactly, I’m something else and me being here is not something anyone in this room is going to talk about, not even what Marcus did to himself. I truly don’t want to fight any of you so let’s call tonight our little secret, OK?” I said.
“Fine by me,” answered the combat fatigues guy that opened the basement door. Looking around, the other two men nodded at my declaration. Victoria is motionless, still telling me to eat shit with the look on her face.
“How long will it take him to heal?” I said, breaking the silence.
Victoria answered, “He’ll be ok after he’s finished shifting. Weak for a day or two but not in any danger.”
“She must love the Werewolf or else is enslaved by him,” I thought. I don’t know the mating rituals or social precedence of Werewolves, but I would bet he is her alpha none the less. Hopefully, she will let this go.
I don’t want to make any enemies yet. My world is about to get a lot deeper and I’m not sure how far down it goes. One thing is for sure humans have no clue what is going on around them. “Hey Vicky, you know, I’ve never seen a Vampire before, how about showing me the one you have in the other room?” I asked.
