“He’s … no longer with us. A shame really, good help is hard to find.” He tisked, sadness in his voice, but again, the eyes are the mirrors of the soul, and his were red-rimmed with lust, cold and disdainful.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I commiserated.
“So nice of you to bring your family along.”
“Shouldn’t I have?”
“Most certainly. We would have noticed your family in our fine city sooner rather than later, anyway.” He shifted to Lucius. “May I?” He pointed to the empty seat. Luc gave him a curt nod. “Merci,” he replied.
“N´en pense rien. Think nothing of it.” Lucius focused his attention on the vampire, matching his cool gaze with his own. “The Council assured us that we’d be welcomed to the city, and yet, here we are, at an impasse. If you’d like, say the word, and we’ll move to a different place. I’m sure the Council will have no problem if you claim preeminent domain,” he said with a terse curl of his lips.
Pierre shook his head. “Not at all. No need to bother with the Council. You are more than welcome to partake in all our grand city has to offer. I have but one request … all that stay in our city pay … sort of a rental fee.”
“Ah.” Luc’s gaze grew icy. “This is about … how do they say it in the movies?” He glanced at me.
“Shaking us down.” I finished for him.
Pierre’s grin widened, he lifted his open hand, waving away my words. “A small user’s fee. See, we understand each other, we can be friends … or at least friendly.”
He clapped my father on the shoulder, and I thought Lucius was going to remove his hand as well as the arm attached to it. The vampire must be blind or might he think he’d be able to incapacitate Luc? Maybe he’d never met anyone of my father’s age?
Still visibly angry from the shake-down, Luc stood. “Right, then. We’ll take our leave.”
“Nonsense. We can all be friends. Come, join us.” He motioned to the floor.
Disgust colored Luc’s features. “Not our style.”
“Don’t kid yourself, my friend. We all need a taste now and again.”
“Not what I meant.” Luc’s eyes grew colder still.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Luc cocked his head. “Didn’t you? Quite all right, no offense taken.” He took Isabella’s hand with great care, as if afraid with the boiling seethe inside him, he might accidentally injure her.
She held up a prim finger, pausing for a moment. “I have something to add.”
Luc nodded.
“Mr. Le Sanguis Frais?” She smiled sweetly, but anger roiled beneath her surface. “Do have a good evening. We’ll call again … real soon.”
Pierre lost his smile. “Please do.”
We stood together, and Pierre’s hand shot out. “Ben, mon ami, you’ll stay.”
“I think not.” Slowly I twisted my head to take in his gaze. “Please do not touch me.”
He grinned, releasing his hand, and his one shoulder shrugged in a practiced ease. “Ah, too bad. I like you.”
While we had been speaking, the others in Le Sanguis Frais had tightened around our group. The humans had fled as if liberated from a spell. Or maybe it was common sense, of which this vampire had little.
“And, I like you too.” I spoke in almost a whisper, my beast purred and rubbed against the inside of my skin, like a hunting cat. This was a stupid, vapid vampire. How had he survived? I wondered.
With a soft snarl, the crowd opened around us and we exited the building with much to discuss. There was no subterfuge. If our families tangled again, not all would leave with their undead lives intact. Before we left, the vampire singer winked and blew a kiss in my direction.
We returned to our apartments. “How long do you think before Le Sanguis Frais arrives?” I asked, peering out into the night. We all knew the challenge thrown down by our family had to be answered. It would set a precedence for other newcomers, and those Pierre already threatened, might follow.
“Not long.”
Luc was right.
*
Lucius reached out to the humans in our quiet neighborhood, influencing them to leave for the night, even those with small children found somewhere else to be. It was a mass exodus, their faces blank as they left us, not knowing the reason they fled into the darkness, just elsewhere meant safety.
He picked up the receiver of the phone. “I think it’s time to call reinforcements.” We’d met a small group and had shared a few nights together, Jon-Paul, the oldest. He had a web of connections to employ. “Jon-Paul, we may need assistance.” Luc listened for a few moments. “That’d be nice, bring them as well. We’ll make a party of it.” In a matter of minutes, our apartments swelled with vampires from around the city.
“What’s the problem?” Jon-Paul asked.
“Le Sanguis Frais, have you heard of them?”
He nodded. “A youngling who thinks he owns the town. More of a thug than anything else, demands payments. Bad business here a few months back. The aftermath wasn’t pretty. That’s why I was surprised the Hierarchy allowed you entrance to the city.”
“The Council and their games, it figures,” I replied. The others inclined their heads in agreement. The Council, in their great wisdom, decided a clean up was needed. Using our family as the catalyst. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. We were almost positive the Council was also responsible for the lack of Loupgarin’s scent and we’d discussed it with our new friends, but why would they do that? What were the Council’s designs? One day, I feared, we would find out.
It was a whisper of a fragrance on the breeze that alerted us to the entry of Le Sanguis Frais family. A brush of the consciousness of many. But we were quite a few ourselves, not as many as Le Sanguis Frais, but we had more than was needed.
It was Pierre who stood below our veranda’s balcony. “Monsieur, come, let us be friends. You do not want us for enemies.”
Lucius laughed. “You are oblivious, young one.”
Pierre stared back from the darkness. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“I’m sorry, my young friend. But it does.”
Pierre stepped back into the shadows, but it was impossible to hide from the vampiric sight. We gazed into the night, spying hundreds in the shadows.
Seconds past, and we watched. The night became still, the insects left us, birds vacated the trees, the whispering branches quieted, even the barking dog from several neighborhoods away fell silent. Nothing moved in the darkness as we awaited the first strike.
Jon-Paul motioned. “Here they come.”
Luc nodded.
Vampires have many terrifying features; canines, long and cruel, drop from the gums to form horrific fangs, worse than any beast on Earth. When threatened, fingers elongate and harden to shape finely manicured claws. Vampires are exceptionally sturdy creatures, no flight in our psyche, only fight; we know no other predators than another vampire. The strongest and surest will survive. Humanity has little option but to bend to our will, the reason Luc suggested the humans leave us; he touched the minds of many with a single thought.
The vampires in our service dropped to fighting stances, claws extended, all that had gathered were more than a few centuries old. It would be a quick and bloody war. The youngling thought himself powerful, but without the strength of the ageless.
The window crashed and Isabella stepped forward with a quick motion. One down, countless more to go. A howl rented in the air. As we looked on, hundreds flew through the night, but not fast enough. One by one, they were felled, leaving the disintegrating husks, the stench of spoilt meat let go too long.
Flashes of fang and claw slashed through the darkness, beads of black blood dotted the scenery, the apartments, the walls of the adjoining buildings. The smell of desecrated vampiric blood coated the air, death—old and putrid, we could almost taste it, nothing one of our kind would find appealing. The aftermath was not going to be one for the faint-of-heart, but
vampires weren’t fainthearted.
I plunged my fist through the chest of another, splashing vampiric blood on my face. I mopped it away, and the body slipped to the floor as I dropped his undead heart, life leaving his eyes as the true death claimed him. I didn’t know the vampire, one of the many I suspected to be secreted in the cracks and crevices of the city. A bloody killing night it was going to be. Windows shattered, curtains ravaged and shredded. One more vampire that would not see the eve’s dawning.
The bodies piled up like corded wood.
The veranda shook as the next round of vampires leapt to its surface, the fight spilled out to the sidewalk below, the hanging plants lay broken and beaten.
“Damn, I loved those plants,” Isabella hissed, taking one young vampire across the midsection.
Lucius didn’t stop as he grabbed another. He might have been careful around humans, but scheming vampires were something completely different … Intolerable. “Sweetheart, we’ll go to the nursery, I’ll buy you more.”
“But those were old growth,” she complained with a grunt, tossing the wasted body over the wall of the balcony.
“And we’ll buy more, twice as old.” He stepped in, taking the head of a youngling. It bounced off the wooden boards. He kicked it aside, ready for the next as it leapt from the street.
She eyed the battered and wilted plants one last time, slamming the forehead of another vampire into the wall, instant death as the skull bashed in, brain matter spilling. “If you say so.”
The night streaked with crimson and black. Le Sanguis Frais family had brought along their human companions to the fight. We worked to avoid them when possible, knocking them out when necessary, no need to take their lives. Most did not know why or what caused them to join our battle, compelled to do the bidding of their vampire handlers. No love existed, you don’t throw those who are cherished into the fire.
Bodies in various stages of dismemberment littered the grounds of our apartments, inside and out, the streets of our neighborhood. Hundreds of deteriorating bodies.
Still, the road was clogged with battling vampires.
Luc gazed over the throng, throwing his hands in the air, halting the fighting before more death occurred. He called into the darkness, “Pierre Le Sanguis Frais!”
Silence answered him. He called again, “Pierre Le Sanguis Frais, show yourself!”
From an adjoining apartment, the shadow of the vampire stood. “Mon cher,” he answered.
“Don’t you know when to quit? Your family is dying. Is this what you what? It’s your choice, be wise, young one. It means your life too.”
The shadow shrugged from the darkness. “There are many more of us.”
“Do you wish them all to meet death?” Lucius asked, amazement in his voice.
Again, a negligent shift of a shoulder. “Are we not already?” Pierre Le Sanguis Frais didn’t care. He thought himself superior.
“Fine.” Lucius jumped the distance between them. “You’re next, then. Meet your fate.” The two circled around each other, but I didn’t worry for Lucius. A clash sounded as their bodies slammed together.
A yowl screamed in the night. The combat resumed, bloodier than before. Gore splashed thickly, bits of body flew as claw and fang slashed. Heads rolled like basketballs, in the sickest game of round ball ever played.
The vampire singer flung herself at me.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I repeated Pierre’s words.
“What other way can it be? You want to take what’s ours.” Her hand sliced through the air, missing me by inches.
I danced out of reach. “We want nothing more than to exist in peace until the Council informs us of our next move.”
“Lies.”
“I don’t want to kill anyone who sings as wondrously as you do. But I will not risk my family.” By this time, I had her throat in my hands, but I paused, not wanting to separate her pretty head from her neck.
“Parlay?” she asked.
“A wager?” I answered back.
“A deal,” she replied.
“What would be this deal?” I stopped, hoping the idea spared her. I’d grown tired of the killing.
“Live and let live. Pierre made us believe you had the deed to the city.”
“I’m sorry, but I fear not all in your family will be as generous. We’ll be looking over our shoulders for the rest of eternity.”
“No,” she rested a hand on mine. “Not all are happy with Pierre’s domination. We want our freedom.”
“The Council forced this confrontation. They might not give you a choice.”
“Life under the Council or death. Not much of a choice. I’ll choose life.”
Another roar streamed in the night, pulling everyone’s attention. Lucius stood on the balcony of the apartments across from ours. A head held high for all to see. “Pierre Le Sanguis Frais is no more. For those who wish to join him, keep fighting.” He tossed the head into the street. “Only death stands in that direction.”
A rumble rifled through the air, the vampires called to our service stood silently, pausing for the decision of those left, ragged and tormented, who had fought so vehemently. They dispersed into the darkness, slipping from our clutches, as did the young singer I’d held within my grasp. I let her go, not thinking I’d see her again. A sigh of relief whispered through the night.
“Next time you say to come for a party, I’m going to ask what kind,” Jon-Paul smirked, wiping his arms and hands on our ruined drapes.
Isabella stood defiant as always. “Well, will you look at this mess?”
A chuckle rose from our compatriots. The battle had lasted a mere hour, none had been lost. Together, we cleaned, stacking what remained of the bodies like wood for a bonfire. We called for the sanitizers used by the Council, repairs were made where needed, replacement of furniture, bodies born away. By the time the humans returned, no visible evidence would remain, but it could never be erased from our memories.
We returned to the magnificence of New Orleans and all the Quarter had to offer, a bit freer now.
Once, I thought I heard the sultry tones of my vampire singer, but when I searched for her, she was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was wishful thinking.
Chapter Twelve
I thrived in the nightlife. People of all kinds gladly welcomed the vampire into their lives. The streets had quieted with the loss of Pierre Le Sanguis Frais. The clubs and their multitudes was a feasting ground, my hungers satiated as well as theirs. A give and take existence. A place to hunt and to be found. Seldom did I want for anything in the openness of New Orleans.
On an autumn’s evening, I fell in with a happy group at a popular nightspot when one of the women suggested we visit the local psychic. She wanted a séance to contact the other side. Psychics were a new breed of human for me, some pretending to be what they could not, and others genuinely gifted in the magic of the mind.
When we arrived at the psychic’s residence, a small sign graced the entrance giving the name of Madame Katrina, Séances Held, Fortunes Told. And I was, for the first time in my long undead existence, unable to cross the threshold. It was laced with old magic, the kind seldom experienced by my kind. Standing within our group, as others started to enter, the invisible shield presented itself to me, holding me back. Someone powerful had once lived here.
Gazing up at the lady holding open the door, a sunny halo greeted my surprised stare.
My eyes squinted and I gulped. “I hope we’ve come at a good time?”
“Of course, come in, make yourselves at home.” She opened her door wider and stepped back, and I felt the magical restrictions vanish as we filed into her home. Unknowingly with her invitation, she had negated the power of her shields.
Looking around as we entered her home, I tried to touch our hostess’s mind, but it was as tightly closed as the doorway had been. Strange this woman was proving to be. Feeling her eyes upon me, I smiled into their depths. She shivered and my gaze wid
ened. Had she felt my mental intrusions?
One of the young women, Melody, whose blood tasted of her sweetness and gullibility, had recently lost her father. We paid our money and gathered around a wide circled table with hands held. The only light glowed from a few white candles. Madame Katrina whispered to her spirits, and we waited. The air shifted around us. A gentle wind rustled through the room, wavering the candles’ flames. It was oddly cold even to my chilled flesh.
“The spirit guides have joined us,” she whispered. “Mr. Evans.” She spoke to the emptiness. “If you are with us, show yourself. Your daughter, Melody, is here. Let her know it’s you, let her share in your spirit’s journey. Reassure her with your presence. She still needs your guidance,” she called in her soft voice.
“Daddy?” Melody twisted around, looking everywhere. “Daddy, are you here?” A breeze lifted Melody’s hair away from her face. “You are,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you.” Tears made twin trails down her guileless face.
But I was a skeptic and my suspicions must have shown on my face. When a gust of wind lifts one’s hair, wavers a few bright flares, does it mean a spirit is crossing your path? Dubious, I forced back my thoughts. No need to ruin the young woman’s night. There was a flurry of activity as the others gasped, grabbing each other’s hands more fervently, quiet voices filling the room.
“Shhh …” Madame Katrina hushed the small crowd. “Melody, is there anything you wish of your father before the spirits leave us? Speak it now while he’s here beside you, but hurry, spirits never linger long.”
Melody, with more tears streaming down her cheeks, nodded her pretty head. “Daddy, I didn’t get to say goodbye … I just want you to know … I love you and I miss you.” She cried harder. “I wish you were still here.” Then she gasped. “I can feel his fingers brushing through my hair!”
Madame Katrina tipped her head to the side and closed her eyes, as if listening to something none of us could hear. She opened them to look over at Melody. “Your father wants you to know he loves you too, and wishes he hadn’t left you. He knows you’ll be fine though, because you’re strong.”
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