by Tonya Nagle
"Where's David?"
Tall, dark and mustached Marchon was their host and an old friend of David's, but Laura was sure he didn't have the privilege of being in their room. His smile made her uncomfortable. Her mind searched for David. He was somewhere in the house, but he was blocking her thoughts. Why would he?
"She's shy." The red-headed woman with the British accent had a mocking tone, but Laura chose to ignore her.
"We don't have time for that, cher." Marchon turned to the others that Laura saw emerging from the dimness. "Quickly. Get her dressed and downstairs."
The women dragged her out of bed.
"What is going on?" Laura protested, clutching the sheet around her.
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"Well, David said for us to . . .," offered one, mousy dark-haired woman but another woman stopped her, clamping her hand over her mouth. "It's supposed to be a surprise."
"What surprise?" asked Laura.
"A bloody good one," said the red-haired woman.
The others giggled. Laura couldn't help giggle herself.
"Now please, give us that sheet and come here."
Before Laura knew it, they slipped a soft, silken, cream-colored gown over her head and down past her hips. The dress was strapless and had a tight lace up bodice.
"Let me take off that old thing," said one woman.
Laura had spent hours creating the knotted leather necklace of blue beads that supported the sheath for the unicorn's horn, after David suggested she keep it. As he put it, you never know when a unicorn's horn will come in handy, so now it rested between her breasts like a small dagger. "No, that's all right. I want to wear it."
"Suit yourself then."
They slipped Laura's feet into soft, black velvet shoes.
"What about her hair?" asked one. "Should it go up?"
"No," said another. "Let her golden tresses run free."
"All she needs now is a rosebud circlet for her head--like a virgin." They burst into song and collapsed into giggles.
Laura shook her head smiling, "All right. That's enough."
One woman opened the door. "It's time."
Laura walked out with the others following. Candlelit sconces threw flickering, purple shadows against the walls, as Laura and her entourage made their way slowly 40
down the halls and stairs. When Laura reached the kitchen, she heard murmuring in the next room.
The vampires of New Orleans were assembled in Marchon's mahogany paneled banquet room, the men dashing in an array of tuxedos, top hats and tails, military uniforms, and period regalia. The place fairly glittered from the shifting of wolf-head canes, gold-hilt swords, and jewel-encrusted walking sticks. The women of the blood wore flowing gowns of purple taffeta, black lace, dazzling white chiffon, and shimmering blue midnight silk. More than one wore clingy, scarlet dresses. All raised their wine glasses dark with blood, as Laura stood in the rose-filled entryway, the fragrance intoxicating. Candlelight from the sparkling chandeliers danced on the gathering below giving them an unearthly glow.
Laura smiled when she saw David, magnificent in his black tuxedo. She remembered when they first met. She had been lost in his warm dark eyes, that handsome face, framed by curly, chocolate brown hair. His smile invited her. Then she noticed Marchon standing with him by a podium at the front of the room. A woman handed Laura a bouquet of deep red roses and whispered, "Go ahead, dear. He's waiting."
Laura walked over to David and gazed up into his eyes. He took her hand and kissed it. Not aloud but in her thoughts, she heard his soft baritone voice. I hope you're not angry with my surprise. Will you marry me, Laura?
When she kissed him, the crowd laughed and cheered.
"Ah, cher, you're getting ahead of things." Marchon raised his hands.
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They parted. David suddenly pulled her back into a kiss, his lips soft at first and then more demanding. He drank from her mouth, as if it was a chalice filled with nectar. Laura felt a little dizzy when they finally stood holding hands, facing Marchon.
"It is time to begin." The crowd fell quiet. "Among our kind, marriage is rare though it has occurred when one of the partners is human. We have no formal wedding ritual for the coming together of immortals. If there was one, it was lost. To find that eternal mate is an exquisite gift, so today we create a new rite as we witness the joining of two hearts throughout eternity."
Marchon asked for their right hands and as he did so, he loosely tied them together with a red ribbon.
David smiled. Then he closed his dark brown eyes and inwardly said, I loved you the instant I saw you. You chose me over a mortal life.
"Ah, mes amis, why not share your thoughts with all," said Marchon.
David stood taller. "I love you, Laura. I promise to love, provide, and protect you always. I choose you to be my wife forever."
Laura closed her eyes and thought to David. You saved me from utter despair.
You freed me to follow my heart, and my heart led me back to you. Then she added aloud, "Eternity is but a dance in the moonlight. I wish to dance with you always. I love you, David, and I choose you for my husband."
"Well, the vows have been exchanged. Now for the ring," announced Marchon.
Another vampire stepped forward and held open a small box. David took the platinum band adorned with diamonds and placed it on her finger.
Marchon laughed. "Now, you may kiss the bride."
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"No," thundered through the house. The voodoo mambo Brilla stormed in, her black and purple robe covered with silver amulets and chains. The other vampires shrank into the shadows. No one dared stand against her. She marched up to the couple. "This cannot be." She shook her fists, and the room plunged into darkness.
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Chapter 4
Laura held her poor aching head. Her swirling vision came to a stop as the blur cleared. Brilla hummed away, as she pulverized herbs in a stone bowl. The mambo wore a cacophony of colors and textures and sounds from the amulets of metal, stone, and bone that decorated her braided hair and clothes.
Getting up from the worn red velvet daybed, Laura hit her head on a gris-gris bag that was hanging from the rafter, and silver bells hung everywhere clanged painfully.
Ow. She knew this place. With its cobwebbed crannies filled with books, bones, candles, sacred totems, dried lizards, skulls, and jars of potions, it was exactly as Laura remembered it from her childhood--a secret world of magic.
"Why did you ruin my wedding, Brilla?" she asked, as calmly as she could. It never worked to get angry with the mambo. Laura held in all her sadness, her anger at being taken from David, and approached her mother's old friend cautiously.
Brilla laughed. "Let me tell you a story, La-la."
Laura sat down at the table.
"When the world was young," the mambo began, "the Keres were the death spirits. With their long white fangs, they drank the blood of the newly slain on the battlefield, but they were not satisfied with that. They hungered for more. More blood.
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More power. When the battle between good and evil took place in the heavens, they made a vow and joined the side of the dark angels. When their victory collapsed, the Keres too were banished from glory. Doomed to wander in the night, they feasted on the blood of the dead and unwary, always the immortals with the unquenchable thirst.
The Keres raged at their prison of eternal night and made a law never to make a vow or promise that would bind them to anything or anyone again. Destruction was the fate of any Kere breaking that law."
"I am not a Kere."
"Vampires are their children, and their laws apply to you as well."
"Brilla, the Keres don't exist anymore."
The mambo shook her head and laughed. "You think so, do you? Before your mother died, she made me promise to protect you."
"If you made a promise to protect me, you haven't done a very good job. An hour after I got the call that Mama died, my fiancé dumped me for another woman. T
hen someone robbed me, taking everything I had, even my plane ticket. Everything in my life shattered. What little money I had was in my shoe, and that was just enough to get back to my apartment. The cab was going over the Brooklyn Bridge, and I suddenly realized there was nothing to go home to. I jumped out of the car and climbed over the rail. Do you want to know the worst part of it? When I was staring down into the darkness I changed my mind. Then I slipped. You weren't there, Brilla, when my life was over."
"I went to New York to find you when you didn't come to the funeral. Your landlord said you died."
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Laura shook her head. "Why did you wait until then? Didn't your spirit guides tell you the trouble I was in? You were too late. With all your magic, you were too late.
It was a good thing David was there. He saved me."
"Saved you? Child, he killed you!"
"No," Laura shouted. "You don't understand. You weren't there. I was dying from massive internal injuries. He gave me a second chance." Even thinking of him helped Laura reach out to his thoughts. Hopefully, he would hear her calling and come to her aid.
Brilla shook her head. "La-la, it's a shame you are a vampire." The mambo put two teacups on the table and poured a steaming concoction into each cup.
"What is this?"
"Black root, whisper willow, and twining vine."
"Will it hurt me?" Laura looked into the still swirling mixture in the cup.
"I could never hurt you, Child."
Laura sipped it, but it didn't really appeal to her. She needed more. The hunger gnawed at her.
As if Brilla knew, she set a cup of blood in front of Laura. "I see you wear a unicorn's horn. You could choose to be mortal again. I know the ritual that uses the unicorn's horn; it would free you. Let me help."
Laura shook her head. "If you want to do something for me, let me go back to my husband."
Brilla shook her head, and Laura threw up her arms in exasperation. The hunger chewed on her stomach and ached in her bones. Drinking the blood made her less anxious.
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Laura stood up and walked across the room. Then she put her hands against the closed shutters. If she moved quickly enough, she might be able to leave, but the daylight warming the wood told her otherwise. Laura sighed and sat in a rickety green wicker chair, feeling a little shaky. "What was in that tea?"
Her control, her mind slipped away fast, as she fell off the chair onto the floor.
"Did I say twining vine? I meant to say sleeping vine." The woman jingled, as she placed dead snakes on the cutting board and cut them into small round slices like pepperoni.
"Why? Why did you do this to me?" Laura's vision blurred.
"You have a responsibility as a Telkhine, Laura."
"I'm not a Telkhine. Mama was." She struggled to sit up. The room spun and her inner voice reached out more desperately to David.
"I see that I've underestimated your ability to summon. It won't be long before you lead him here, so we're going to have to leave."
Laura's thoughts whirled painfully in her mind. "I have to leave. I have to find David." She slumped on the floor unable to move. Brilla rustled through some things and found a blanket embroidered with a spider's web. On one end near the tasseled fringe was a spider; while on the other was the blue bird of happiness. She covered Laura.
"David Hilliard isn't worthy to stand beside you, Child. You were never meant for him. Can't you see that?"
"No." Laura gasped, fighting to stay conscious. "Brilla, please, I must go back."
She cried out, "David," then lay unconscious on the floor.
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Chapter 5
After a frustrating night of searching the city, David fell into a fitful sleep on the bed strewn with rose petals. The vampire roared for his love, ripping the day's eerie after-storm silence. His quest continued in his dreams. Being her sire, he should have found her easily, but all he could hear was an old woman's humming. Once he heard Laura call out to him, but he could not see her and had no sense of where she was.
Upon waking, David enlisted Marchon and some friends to help him expand his search beyond the city.
"Spread out," instructed Marchon, "we'll do a wider circle of the city now. She must be beyond it. Stretch your senses. Find traces of magic, and then we'll find her."
It was a few hours before dawn, when they discovered Brilla's strange tree house overlooking a swamp.
"There are traces of dark magic here," cautioned Marchon. "Brilla is very dangerous, and we must practice caution. I smell the ribbons of a spell in the air. So, do you sense Laura here?"
"No," David sighed, his fingers wringing his hair. "No, she's not here anymore.
But what if she left us a clue?" Even though his senses told him she wasn't there, in his 48
heart, he wanted to be wrong. He wanted to find her waiting for him and rushed toward the house.
"No," screamed Marchon. He and the others raced after David.
As David reached for the door, a wooden stake pierced him in the side and he fell into the swamp below. Marchon lifted him out of the muck.
"Damn." David pulled out the stake.
"Friends," shouted Marchon, "be careful. Throw branches at the hut." The vampires broke off boughs from the neighboring trees and threw them. An onslaught of stakes whizzed through the air missing their intended targets. It didn't end there. As some flew up toward the door of the hut, snakes fell from the trees. They couldn't hurt the vampires, but were a nuisance to untangle.
When they entered the house, silver bells shuddered, sending a strange discordant sound throughout. Dust trickled down on them. No one else was there.
Nets exploded towards them from the gloom. Marchon screamed, ripping the net off his face. Other immortals fell to their knees, tearing off the garlic soaked nets. It burned them and they screeched, being unaccustomed to physical pain. David's fury seethed through his entire body. He was eager to vent his wrath on the witch's belongings and grabbed a jar with a spider in it to begin his destruction.
"No, my friend. This is not the way." Marchon slipped the jar quickly out of David's hand. "Sooner or later, she'll be back. We don't want to anger her further.
Besides, you don't know what horrible spell lies sleeping in that jar." Carefully he placed the jar on a shelf.
"You should not be afraid of a witch. We're vampires!" David growled.
"Marchon, she stole Laura from me."
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"I know you're upset for your wife, but you don't understand. You've only been here for a few days. You don't understand the terrible powers of voodoo."
"We have powers too." David walked around the room, searching for any evidence that Laura had been there, any clue she may have left behind for him to find.
He saw a place on the floor, where the dust had been disturbed by an imprint of one of Laura's small hands. Sitting in the spot where only hours before Laura had slept, David placed his hand there. He tried to sense where she might be now. Nothing. No pictures in his mind. His head ached with the old woman's constant humming. "Laura, where are you?" His tortured cry shook the fragile rafters of the hut. He shoved over a pile of books.
Snap. A stake went through Marchon's chest. He sank to the floor. David rushed to him.
"Mon Dieu," he whispered, grasping the stake, blood oozing through his fingers.
"This is what happens when you rush into things."
"Marchon, hold on. Help's coming." David summoned the others and examined the wound. Blood gushed now, and for the healing to begin, he had to pull out the stake.
Through almost closed eyelids, Marchon looked up at David. "I am not going to be a vampire anymore?" He sounded hopeful, as if there's a silver lining to a lost cause.
"It didn't hit your heart," David explained.
"Catalina will miss me." Then Marchon passed out.
"We didn't hear him make a sound," said one of the vampires who had just arrived. "Marchon's very brave."
&nb
sp; 50
David nodded with a lump in his throat. After a deep breath, he pulled out the offending shank. It was willow and possibly had some spell on it, though David sensed no poison. The other vampires carefully carried Marchon as they flew back to the city.
***
Catalina screamed when she saw his ashen and shriveling face. She hurried in front of them, leading the way to the bed in their cozy bedroom behind the bar.
Marchon moaned in agony. He stretched out his arms as if to defend himself and hissed at an unseen predator. Then he fell into a restless sleep. David paced as Catalina, Marchon's dark exotic companion, ran back and forth with bags of blood.
"Don't stand there. Feed him this." She handed him a bag while she went for more. David pushed the bag against Marchon's fangs and watched it drain. His friend still did not wake. The bags were part of Marchon's emergency supply taken from the blood bank as the city was evacuated.
Catalina came in with more. She pulled off the empty bag and coaxed his closing mouth open to press another against his extended fangs. "Ah, my love, you must stay with me." Then she spoke to Marchon in French, soothing his pain with her words, her hands gently touching his face. "Si vous plait, un plus." (Please, one more.) She touched his lips and when his mouth opened, she pressed another bag against his fangs.
Her actions were a race against time. He needed a lot of blood, and he needed it fast.
David turned away. "It's my fault," he muttered.
Her eyes wild with rage, Catalina grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. With the door shut, she shouted, “My man lies at death's door." She paused to catch her breath. Then she slapped him across the face. "Don’t you dare pity yourself, David Hilliard.”
