Blood Moon (A Louisiana Demontale): Book 1 of the Crescent Crown Saga

by Schuyler Windham

  Leo nodded, still shaking.

  She sighed and turned back to Nathan. Leo’s heart jumped in his chest as she leaned over him.

  “Here, if you want this back,” she threw Nathan’s spleen down next to him, “You’d better not fuck with anyone tonight. Well, I don’t think you can in this state.”

  Nathan grabbed his spleen and tenderly put it back in his stomach, gasping. Blood pooled on the floor around him. He gingerly stood, and then rushed out of the green room as quickly as he could, which was fairly fast in Leo’s opinion, considering the injury.

  Lydia then turned to Leo and offered to help him up. Leo gaped at her bloodied hand and shook his head. He slowly got up on his own and hobbled behind her as she led him to the bar. Everyone else had left. The doorman cheerfully waved goodnight to the bartender, and now only the bartender remained, cleaning up some beer glasses.

  Lydia peered back over her shoulder at Leo cautiously as she wiped her bloodied hand on her pants. Then she pulled a barstool out for him and he tentatively sat down.

  “You don’t look so good.” She motioned to the bartender, who promptly poured a couple bourbons. “You’re not hurt?”

  Leo stared at the bourbon and then the bartender, then back to the bourbon, incredulous. Was she serious?

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just drink.”

  Leo hesitantly swigged the bourbon. It burned the back of his throat, only making him more alert and conscious of the fact that the woman, or creature, sitting next to him was a killer. He suspected that, at least. She was dangerous.

  “Seriously,” Leo slammed the glass on the table. “What just happened? You almost killed my . . . friend.” That word now felt hollow on his lips. He tried to kill me. He tried to eat me!

  He stared into her eyes and realized they weren’t just dark. Her eyes were dark violet. He wanted to recoil away from her, but instead was captivated, drawn to her.

  “Shhh.” She reached for his face with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “Don’t worry. You won’t remember any of this.”

  The second her fingers touched Leo, a spark ran through him. It reverberated in every cell of his body, and he felt energy well up within him. He wasn’t the only one who felt it—she quickly pulled away, confusion wrinkling her brow.

  “What was that?” Leo gasped.

  “Nothing,” she huffed.

  Then she started again, a hand on his cheek and another on his shoulder. No more shocks. He felt warmth from her fingertips and his brain started fogging over. He closed his eyes. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget . . . you.

  Chapter 3

  Leo opened his eyes and the fog lifted from his mind. Lydia was still in front of him, her expression strained.

  “What are you trying to do?” Leo frowned. “You look frustrated.”

  She let go of him, folded her arms over her chest, and pursed her lips. Leo noticed a white jagged scar like a choker around her neck. But his gaze lifted as she retorted.

  “You’re just a human. You shouldn’t be involved with all this. All I needed to do was erase your memories and this would all go away,” she sighed. “Now I’m stuck with another mistake.”

  Leo’s heart sank, but he tried to shake it off.

  “Is that what’s up with the bartender? He looks a little out of it.” Leo motioned to the bartender, who brought a whole bottle of top-shelf bourbon over. “You’re not stuck. Maybe you can try again later?”

  “Please,” she scoffed. “I’m good at what I do. There’s something weird about you.”

  Leo laughed weakly as the bartender poured bourbon into their glasses and left the bottle. “There’s something weird about me? You’re the one who snatched a man’s spleen out of his body!”

  A small smile touched her lips. “You sure you’re not a witch?”

  Leo raised an eyebrow at her. “I am not a witch.” As he said this, he reflected on his childhood—the flowers and Monette’s invisibility. If it was true that he could really magic flowers, and Monette could really turn invisible, maybe there was something strange about him. Maybe he was a witch . . . or something else. But he needed to know more. And since his neighbor couldn’t compel him or make him forget, he had an opportunity to discover the truth about who he and Monette were, and explain the strange happenings in New Orleans.

  “All right,” she shrugged.

  “Another shot, Lydia?” He offered her the bourbon. She took the glass and shook her head.

  “That’s not my name. What did you do, try to stalk me?” She gave him the side-eye while sipping from the glass.

  “Uh . . .” Leo blushed. He slammed down his bourbon to stall.

  “I’ll come clean. If I can’t erase your memory, there’s no point in lying to you.” She shrugged. “It’s better you know who I am and what you’re dealing with. It’s better you know the truth. Just promise not to spread my secrets across the city? I’m trying . . .” She sighed, pausing. “Failing to keep a low profile.”

  Leo nodded. “I will keep your secret.”

  “Lydia, Colophon is the area I grew up in near Greece,” she said as she poured more bourbon and offered him the glass. “Leo, right?”

  Leo took the glass, peering down at the amber liquid, then back up to her, curiously.

  “Yeah. Well, Leonidas. Leo for short.”

  “Leonidas, huh?” she raised an eyebrow. “A Greek war hero.”

  “I guess. My dad got to name me, and he likes stuff like that,” Leo grinned. “What about you?”

  Her smile widened a little more. He noticed her canines were a little bigger and pointier than normal. Fanged.

  “My real name is Arachne, daughter of Idmon of Colophon of Hypaepa, Lydia of Ionia.”

  “Wow.” Leo’s eyes lit up and he chuckled a little. “That’s a long title. But Arachne . . . now that’s a lovely name. Way better than Lydia.”

  She snorted into her bourbon. Leo’s stomach fluttered.

  “And you have a cute laugh!”

  “Please!” she scoffed, wiping the bourbon from her face. “Don’t bother flirting. I’m ancient.”

  “You look my age, twenty-four.” Leo shrugged. “Look, I don’t care how old you are.”

  “Well, I care how old you are,” Arachne rolled her eyes. “I have wisdom of millennia, and you are just a quarter of a century old. You have no real experience.”

  Leo gaped at her and then let out a breath of air.

  “Fine, fine. A bit cocky about it, but fine.” Leo leaned back, swigging deeply from his bourbon. The bourbon rushed to his head, and he felt the tips of his fingers begin to tingle. Arachne raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Well, you can’t erase my memory. And you said you’re not going to lie about anything. So, could you explain just a little bit about how Nathan is a . . . what . . . a vampire?”

  “Oh,” Arachne rested her hand on her cheek. “All your bandmates are vampires.”

  “What?” Leo leaned forward, his hands clenched into fists. Nathan I understand, but Bea is a vampire? Arnold, too?

  “Yes, I knew the instant I walked in. And half of your audience. You have quite the following. The other half of the audience would’ve been a late-night snack if I hadn’t broken them up and erased memories. Unfortunately why it took me so long to get to you. Sorry about that.”

  “Are they really vampires?”

  “Yes,” Arachne mused. “Well, it’s a long story. We just use the colloquial term ‘vampire’. The mythos more or less matches the reality. Super strong, super fast. They do thrive off of blood, and sadistically, human blood. Vampires are just one of the many creatures of the night. Every myth is grounded in truth.”

  “Creatures of the night . . . like, werewolves, witches, and ghouls?”

  “Umm . . . something like that. Witches aren’t creatures, though.”

  “But wait, my bandmates all go out in the sunlight!” Leo shook his head, incredulous.

/>   Arachne snickered. “Types of creatures of the night are a little different. Vampires can go out in the sunlight, but most of their powers don’t work. It just weakens them, so they usually don’t stay out long.”

  “How did I never notice? They were right here in front of me.” Leo’s shoulders slumped. He racked his brain, trying to remember anything off about them. The intensity of their expressions . . . the way Bea acted like she could hear his heart. Maybe she really could.

  “Well, don’t beat yourself up too much about it. The reality is, most humans don’t notice the supernatural. Even if they catch a glimpse, they try to rationalize it. And when incidents do occur, we can always wipe your memory,” Arachne explained matter-of-factly. “Well, usually.”

  Leo and Arachne sat there for a few moments in silence, sipping their bourbons. Leo’s head was fuzzy, but his curiosity was only increasing.

  “You came to my show,” he said slowly.

  She smirked at him. “I did.”

  He hesitated and then asked tentatively, “What did you think?”

  “So derivative,” she rolled her eyes and then laughed.

  He blushed, his stomach knotting.

  “I’m just joking!” she said quickly, waving her hands quickly in front of her. “I thought the music was . . . melodic and edgy. You especially have a lot of soul. It was fun to watch you play.”

  Leo’s blush only deepened, and he looked away.

  “Candidly, it was nice to get out. I’m so often dealing with vampire politics; it was a reprieve to just sit and listen to music. A short-lived reprieve, of course,” she sighed. “Sorry if I’m a little . . . cool. Out of practice. I don’t interact with humans very often anymore.”

  Leo turned back to stare at her and take her in. She seemed genuine, her brows knitted together and lips slightly parted as if she were concerned she’d hurt his feelings, as if she had more words on the tip of her tongue she wanted to say.

  Vampires in New Orleans. He wondered just how many vampires and other creatures of the night inhabited the city. And what other kinds of creatures? If they were monsters, what empathy could they have for their prey? Were they once humans themselves, or were they born that way? Questions were racing through Leo’s mind, and he struggled to know where to begin, especially as the bourbon began to cloud his thoughts.

  “Why . . . why save any of us if you’re one of them?” he asked bluntly.

  “Why?” Arachne paused. She drummed her fingernails on the wooden bar and bit her lip. “I just don’t want people to get any more hurt than they already have to. I feel . . . bad . . . but I’m not going to take responsibility or anything like that!”

  “You don’t drink human blood?”

  “I do, but it’s ethically sourced.”

  “Oh, okay.” Leo nodded, like this was all reasonable. “So, who is responsible, then? For all the vampires?”

  Arachne’s face suddenly contorted. He had asked the wrong question.

  “No one is responsible, okay?” She sneered. “Things are just the way they are. There is a code vampires must abide by, like all the creatures of the night, and that’s it!”

  Leo put his hands up sheepishly in surrender. Arachne scooted down from the bar.

  “You’ve had enough bourbon and more than enough answers for one night.”

  “Okie dokie.” Leo grinned.

  “I rest my case,” she sighed. “I’m escorting you home.”

  She held a hand out. He slammed down the rest of his bourbon and let her guide him down from the barstool. He immediately regretted drinking, as his head spun and he nearly fell over. Booze was the next best thing to a memory wipe, he mused.

  “Here.” She took his arm and wrapped it over her shoulder. He leaned lightly on her, but could feel her strength under him.

  As they were leaving, Arachne stared into the blond bartender’s eyes and said, “Finish closing up and go home. You had a normal evening at work, and didn’t hear or see anything odd.” The bartender seemed to snap out of the haze, and waved goodnight to them.

  Out of the warmth of the bar, the night was humid and cool. Although it was only a few blocks to their apartments, Leo relished the few moments he had with this intriguing woman. As she brought him to his door, he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

  Leo turned to her before she spun around to leave. “Wait, Arachne—”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” She cocked her head to the side.

  “For saving me,” Leo smiled. “And for all that bourbon.”

  Arachne’s shoulders slumped, and she smiled wryly up at him.

  “No problem, Leo. Goodnight.”

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Leo awoke to a blazing headache. His head throbbed, especially in the back where it had hit the wall.

  “Ugh . . .” He glared at the sunlight peeking in behind the blinds.

  Did last night really happen?

  Leo laid in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling. His mind tried to connect thought to thought, but everything was too fuzzy. Finally, he got up and stumbled to the bathroom. He splashed water in his face and groggily felt for a hand towel. Gingerly, he flipped on the light switch and blinked his eyes into the excruciating light. He found the towel and patted his face dry.

  He stared at his haggard reflection in the mirror. Stubble was starting to grow on his chin and along his jawline. His lips were dry, parched. He filled and refilled a cup of water several times, drinking desperately. His memories from the previous night trickled back to him, and he rubbed his face with his hands, massaging his forehead.

  “Arachne,” he murmured. She couldn’t erase his memories. She saved his life.

  She was a vampire.

  “My bass!” he groaned as he remembered how he left it on the green room floor. He dressed as quickly as he could, throwing on jeans, a t-shirt, and a green-hooded jacket. He was far from hungry even though it was nearing noon, so he left his apartment without breakfast, heading toward the bar. He was running out of time before he was expected at Cosmic Reed’s band rehearsal.

  When he arrived, the bartender from last night was just unlocking the door.

  “Hey, man, you’ll have to give me a few minutes.”

  “I’m not here for a drink,” Leo shivered at the thought. “I accidentally left my bass here last night.”

  The bartender squinted at Leo and nodded, seeming to recognize him.

  “Come on in.” He opened the door. “It’s still back there. I didn’t touch it. By the way, did you see anything weird last night?”

  Leo froze. “Like what?”

  “Was there a fight?” The bartender’s face crinkled up in reflection. “It’s just, I remember cleaning out the green room, and noticed blood on the floor.”

  Leo shook his head and shrugged.

  “Oh well,” the bartender sighed. “What are ya gonna do?”

  Leo laughed nervously and headed back to the green room. His bass guitar was where he left it on the floor. He carefully examined it for any damage, then put it in its case. I’m probably kicked out of the band anyway, he realized. Why would Nathan let him play again after what happened? Why would Leo even want to? Oh well, he frowned.

  Leo rushed to the Cosmic Reed rehearsal. It was the more lucrative of the two bands, playing jazz fusion and headed by a saxophone player. When he arrived at his bandmate’s house, he noticed a new face in the band. The drummer looked down at his hands, and the singer also refused to meet his eyes.

  “Oh, hey Leo.” The saxophone player looked nervous.

  “Hey, Mike.” Leo glanced over at the other bass player. “Sorry for being late. It was a rough night last night.”

  “No worries, man. Um, hey. We invited Carrie’s cousin to learn a few songs on bass with us, just as a sub. Just in case we’ve got conflicting gigs or something.”

  “Oh.” Leo felt a lump in his throat. “It’s not an issue anymore. But, okay
.”

  “So . . .” Mike hesitated. “We don’t need you at rehearsal today.”

  “Sure. I’ll just head out, then?”

  Mike nodded, flashing a fake smile. The other bass player looked away awkwardly as Leo turned to leave. His breathing became shallow, and he clenched his fists as he shuffled down the sidewalk. Several minutes later, he felt his phone buzz in his jeans. The text message was from Mike:

  Your out of the band

  “Fuck.” Leo felt tears sting his eyes. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Then he chuckled weakly, reflecting on his time with them. Basically overnight, he became unemployed. Leo took a deep breath and headed back to his apartment.

  Once home, Leo called around fifty venues trying to book his solo act. No venue would take him up. They were either booked out for months, or weren’t interested. Finally, he threw his phone next to him on the sofa and leaned back. He sighed, placing his hands on his face.

  “I worked so hard to build this!” he yelled at the ceiling. “I don’t want to work a shit day job!”

  The ceiling didn’t answer.

  He flung himself from the sofa, grabbed his acoustic guitar, and stormed out of the apartment. Busking on the side of the street wasn’t lucrative, especially not in January, but it was something to keep food on the table.

  On his way home with barely $20 in his pocket from the busk, he stopped by the Bootleg Low-Down. The bartender was still there.

  “Hello again,” the bartender smiled. He looked exhausted. No wonder; he worked a double shift after closing the night before. “What can I get you?”

  “Actually,” Leo looked around at the Sunday crowd. “A job.”

  Leo locked up the same bar he’d stumbled out of two weeks earlier. He sighed as he stepped away from the door. At least it would pay the bills and give him enough flexibility to busk and try to resurrect his music career.

  The chilly late-night air was heavy on his shoulders. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and trudged toward home.

  As he passed the park about a block from his apartment, he heard footsteps behind him and caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. He whirled around to find the last person he ever wanted to see.