Augusta Fern's Blog, page 5
January 6, 2014
Revelations of Babet...
“Our history has shown that in the past, to lure a human into submission, an immortal will slowly eliminate what the desired human has holding them to the mortal world; such as family or a business. One by one, taking the things that ground a human. For once those things are gone, the ties that bind. A vampire’s proposal is not as easy to disregard. We believe that this vampire (I wasn’t about to explain that the creature is not exactly like us) wants you for his or her self and is slowly severing your ties to the mortal world.” I stopped, gave her a moment to absorb what I was telling her. She looked down at her hands.
“May I ask you a question?” I said regarding her carefully.
“You just did.” Her dazzling smile throws me off kilter, not to mention her joke.
I smile at the floor, as I lift my gaze to meet hers; she is now regarding me carefully.
“I realize you left the Queen’s residence due to your lack of comfort in unfamiliar territory, but…” I had to gage my words cautiously, “your safety, your children’s safety is not just our mission, it’s our utmost priority.”
I stop and allow her to again absorb what I am trying to convey but before I have an opportunity to complete the thought she did it for me.
“And when I am not where you put me, you get unhinged?” she mutters.
“Precisely, but regardless of that, it means we aren’t doing our job, proper.” I am aware of her discomfort.
“Oh, Griffin.” she whispered to herself, looking out the blackened windows, which in the pitch of night only reflected two blurry figures sitting on couches.
I decide to change the subject for both our sakes.
“Tell me about him, how did you meet?” I said and her face turned up to me in surprise at the request.
“It’s a long story.” Her face turned down to her hands as she emphasizes the word ‘long’.
“I’ve got time.” I replied smiling, revealing a little teeth and she smiled in return. She took in another deep breath and shrugged her shoulders indicating she would proceed with the tale.
“Um, ok, well….where do I start? Well, I escaped to North Carolina, after high school, due to my status in the community; I along with Frankie and our other friend Molly went to school up there. We met some unsavory characters and spent time in some even worse places. I returned home pregnant with Scarlet while my friends stayed in NC. Scarlet’s dad’s name is John. That is a whole other can of worms, but once we got back into the fold of New Orleans John, Scarlet and I lived in a large five bedroom house with three other people; we had the East wing of the house and the other three had the West. Things had been trying for some time between John and me; financially, physically and emotionally because I miscarried the second baby I became pregnant with. We ended up working opposite shifts, hardly ever seeing each other as one of us was either with Scarlet or working.
“One of the other roommates, Mark, had a friend, Griffin, who was having domestic problems and needed a place to stay. Mark offered to move Griffin into his room and split the rent. Because Griffin and I worked the same shift hours at our jobs, we got home at the same time every day. Trying to be a good roommate I, along with Scarlet would hang out with him, he would play with Scarlet and we would talk about the things that bothered us about our partners and over time Griffin and I became friends. So much so that when John’s car wasn’t running, Griffin would pick John up from work as favor to me.” She paused looking intently at me to signify I could stop her should I get bored. I slightly bowed my head in her direction, indicating she could continue.
“OK, well, uh….things got so bad with John that he moved back to his mother’s house in North Carolina. We remained copacetic as parents while we were separated, but I was drawn to Griffin and well, things got very complicated. Every day I went back and forth with the decision to end things with John. I mean we had a child together and what was I going to be doing to my daughter leaving her father? But it was him or me. I was very unhappy and Griffin was such a rock.” The last word creaked from her throat and tears welled in her eyes.
I was a statue on the couch, I knew how to comfort a woman, but this woman was insanity for me. I could slide across to her on the couch and take her in my arms, let her cry and sob until she fell asleep. But my primal nature would slide over to her, become intoxicated and rapidly extinguish her life, regardless of my vows. But she didn’t give me a chance to do either; she exasperatedly jumped from the couch, wiped her tears and began pacing the floor, she brought her hand in a loose fist up to her face and turned it, parted her lips and bounced her thumbnail between her teeth. I thought to myself, “Estella”. I already held many questions in my mind as to the details Babet divulged, but I would have to recall them at another time, hopefully tonight. I hate to drag on the prior night’s conversations at later dates.
I could feel the tension rise in Babet and she sharply turned to face me, her eyes wide and questioning, “My children?”
“Are also in danger” I said truthfully and she began pacing again. “Babet” and it was one of the few times I had uttered her name in her presence and as it fell out of my mouth a twinge of rampant hunger came over me, I begin to salivate. I hastily regain composure at the same moment she turned her attentions back to me, “Where is Scarlet?”
“She’s staying at her friend Monica’s house tonight; I swear those girls would become Siamese twins if you let them.” Her smile faded, “Oh God, you don’t think…”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...Revelations of Cian
“May I ask you a question?” I said regarding her carefully.
“You just did.” Her dazzling smile throws me off kilter, not to mention her joke.
I smile at the floor, as I lift my gaze to meet hers; she is now regarding me carefully.
“I realize you left the Queen’s residence due to your lack of comfort in unfamiliar territory, but…” I had to gage my words cautiously, “your safety, your children’s safety is not just our mission, it’s our utmost priority.”
I stop and allow her to again absorb what I am trying to convey but before I have an opportunity to complete the thought she did it for me.
“And when I am not where you put me, you get unhinged?” she mutters.
“Precisely, but regardless of that, it means we aren’t doing our job, proper.” I am aware of her discomfort.
“Oh, Griffin.” she whispered to herself, looking out the blackened windows, which in the pitch of night only reflected two blurry figures sitting on couches.
I decide to change the subject for both our sakes.
“Tell me about him, how did you meet?” I said and her face turned up to me in surprise at the request.
“It’s a long story.” Her face turned down to her hands as she emphasizes the word ‘long’.
“I’ve got time.” I replied smiling, revealing a little teeth and she smiled in return. She took in another deep breath and shrugged her shoulders indicating she would proceed with the tale.
“Um, ok, well….where do I start? Well, I escaped to North Carolina, after high school, due to my status in the community; I along with Frankie and our other friend Molly went to school up there. We met some unsavory characters and spent time in some even worse places. I returned home pregnant with Scarlet while my friends stayed in NC. Scarlet’s dad’s name is John. That is a whole other can of worms, but once we got back into the fold of New Orleans John, Scarlet and I lived in a large five bedroom house with three other people; we had the East wing of the house and the other three had the West. Things had been trying for some time between John and me; financially, physically and emotionally because I miscarried the second baby I became pregnant with. We ended up working opposite shifts, hardly ever seeing each other as one of us was either with Scarlet or working.
“One of the other roommates, Mark, had a friend, Griffin, who was having domestic problems and needed a place to stay. Mark offered to move Griffin into his room and split the rent. Because Griffin and I worked the same shift hours at our jobs, we got home at the same time every day. Trying to be a good roommate I, along with Scarlet would hang out with him, he would play with Scarlet and we would talk about the things that bothered us about our partners and over time Griffin and I became friends. So much so that when John’s car wasn’t running, Griffin would pick John up from work as favor to me.” She paused looking intently at me to signify I could stop her should I get bored. I slightly bowed my head in her direction, indicating she could continue.
“OK, well, uh….things got so bad with John that he moved back to his mother’s house in North Carolina. We remained copacetic as parents while we were separated, but I was drawn to Griffin and well, things got very complicated. Every day I went back and forth with the decision to end things with John. I mean we had a child together and what was I going to be doing to my daughter leaving her father? But it was him or me. I was very unhappy and Griffin was such a rock.” The last word creaked from her throat and tears welled in her eyes.
I was a statue on the couch, I knew how to comfort a woman, but this woman was insanity for me. I could slide across to her on the couch and take her in my arms, let her cry and sob until she fell asleep. But my primal nature would slide over to her, become intoxicated and rapidly extinguish her life, regardless of my vows. But she didn’t give me a chance to do either; she exasperatedly jumped from the couch, wiped her tears and began pacing the floor, she brought her hand in a loose fist up to her face and turned it, parted her lips and bounced her thumbnail between her teeth. I thought to myself, “Estella”. I already held many questions in my mind as to the details Babet divulged, but I would have to recall them at another time, hopefully tonight. I hate to drag on the prior night’s conversations at later dates.
I could feel the tension rise in Babet and she sharply turned to face me, her eyes wide and questioning, “My children?”
“Are also in danger” I said truthfully and she began pacing again. “Babet” and it was one of the few times I had uttered her name in her presence and as it fell out of my mouth a twinge of rampant hunger came over me, I begin to salivate. I hastily regain composure at the same moment she turned her attentions back to me, “Where is Scarlet?”
“She’s staying at her friend Monica’s house tonight; I swear those girls would become Siamese twins if you let them.” Her smile faded, “Oh God, you don’t think…”
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...Revelations of Cian
January 2, 2014
Babet; Lost and Found...Just the Facts Cian...
I approach the palatial two story Garden District house of Babet’s friend, located on Felicity, not far from highway 91 and my warehouse. I run my hand across the top of the wrought iron fence posts before pushing the gate aside to pass into the landscaped front garden; the cobblestones beneath my feet meet the tread of my boot conspicuously.
The house is unfathomable and expansive from the side view. The front is wide, with help from its giant wrap-around front porch. Scrolled wrought iron connects pillared columns to support the vast awning above which is intricately designed. I look up further, the upstairs is blessed with the same treatment, and it is also adorned pillars and scrolled wrought iron to hold up the balcony. The house is painted white, the shutters are green downstairs. The trim around the French doors upstairs matches and there are four green rocking chairs painted the same green look down from up there.
Along the roof, I notice three chimneys protruding it. The closer I get to the front door I see to my far right another door leading to sitting sun room, high-end wicker furniture with brightly colored throw pillows sit arranged inside.
My attentions are diverted back to the front door where I see Babet through the thick glass fumbling with the knob and a muffled angelic voice, “Just…a minute, uh…..” I look down, at my feet a mat with an elaborate W printed in the fibers, the lock clicks back into the carved notch in the door and the knob turns. The heavy wooden door flies open and Babet stands cradling her son in a towel, attempting to balance the sopping excited baby. She is dressed in a brand new pair of jeans and gray V neck man’s undershirt, her black cherry hair pulled up to a ponytail. She staggered backwards allowing me entry.
“Good Evening.” I said looking into her brilliant green eyes as I cross the threshold. She was waiting for me, watching for my arrival. I present the little bath toy.
“Come in.” she said still smiling.
She laughs and holds out a hand to take it from me, our fingers graze and I feel the spark radiate. “Ah-ha, see Henri…here is ducky.” She says to the little boy squirming in her arms apparently unaffected as I. “Could have used this, where did we leave it?” She directs her attention back to me. She plays into Henri’s game, swinging him around before securing him, closing the door to face me.
“I found it in the bathroom upstairs at Audubon. By the way, it’s good to see you smiling,” I said as I stepped foot onto the dark wooden floors into the heavily crown molded foyer, immediately I see the first of three fireplaces, this one is marble with a heavy white mantle. This house is very old to have a fireplace in the foyer. I turn back to face Babet and as I do my head scathes the chandelier overhead.
“Yeah, no matter what’s going on in my life, the kids always make me smile.” She said snuggling her nose into the baby’s neck, nuzzling him until he cooed and then cackled. “Especially this one.” And she snuggled the boy again before saying, “Uh, so….what information do you need from me? I mean, of course I told Estella everything I know and remember about the night Griffin left...disappeared.” She seemed flustered as she corrected herself. It is clear to me she is not interested in discussing her reasons for leaving our safe house.
For a brief awkward moment we were both silent, I can’t help but stare, she becomes as fidgety as the little one in her arms. She hikes the boy further onto her body. “Well, make yourself comfortable I’m going to dress him for bed.” I watch as she turns down a small hallway and strode up a narrow staircase, like the first night I saw her at her shop in the Quarter. She clutched the boy, who stared back down at me over his mothers shoulder until his chubby hands carelessly gripped and examined a lock of her black cherry hair.
She had no idea of the effect her mere presence had on me, her very smell an intoxicating plethora of Lavender and Rose hips, hinted only to my ancient nose, mixed with the smell of fresh paint.
I stepped into this room and that room, all decorated precisely to Frankie’s obviously specific modern style, I smile internally at the same yet egregiously larger print of the Moonwalk photo as Audubon framed and mounted on the wall and I deduce that Frankie and Marcus don’t have children. The house is too immaculate and seems as though it stays that way.
I wander into a long drawing room where the second fireplace sat center two couches on either side facing each other, adjacent to a much modernized kitchen; cream, off white antique style French farmhouse cabinetry surround stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops.
A surprise to my old ears I hear the soothing melody of the 1940’s hit, “I’ll be seeing you” plays from an under the cabinet radio and I decide to sit on one of the overstuffed cream colored couches, I move the orange and blue pillows to one side while I enjoy the blend of the digitally restored song and Babet playfully dress Henri overhead, I can heard the baby squeal with delight from upstairs.
Babet comes down with the boy saddled to her hip, I can hear her padding through the house, possibly looking for me but I observe as she passes me by, she found what she was looking for, a baby cup in her hand. Her mood seemed determined and unwavering. I watch meticulously as she moves about the kitchen.
Open the refrigerator, pull out the milk, untwist the cup top, and place it on the counter. Pour the milk, return it to the refrigerator. Replace the cap on the cup. All while balancing Henri on her hip. She smiles at me when she returns with the baby, the cup now residing in his little hands, he grips the blue and red cup adorned with cars, turning it until finally placing the sipper in his mouth. He settles into his mother’s lap as she sits on the opposite couch; across from me.
I was glad, she was as far away from me as possible, her scent stronger than I had anticipated. She made herself comfortable and propped Henri up as he was clearly enjoying his beverage. Once she had the baby situated she turned her gaze expectantly for me to instigate conversation. I oblige her.
“Are you aware of what our purpose is here, in your life?” I asked keeping my tone indifferent.
She focuses on me, “Yes, and I appreciate all you both… you all, have done for us, but I have to ask, Why? Which is kind of why I bolted last night…this morning” and her gaze went from me to Henri, and back to me again, waiting for an answer.
“I thought…..How much did Estella make you aware of?”
She took a deep breath and rattled off the list from memory.
“I would assume everything. Firstly, which originally got my attention, other than the fact that she is absolutely stunning; she said my husband’s disappearance may be more than that, something supernatural. That she is my descendant. And Griffin’s. Which is rather creepy but interesting. She explained her connection to PGT Beauregard; which is kind of tragically romantic. She also mentioned she was a….” Babet’s intense focus on the conversation was disturbed as she glanced down at her baby who had fallen asleep, the sipper of the cup teetering halfway out of his heart shaped mouth.
Babet removed the cup from Henri’s listless grasp, placing it on the giant teak coffee table between us. She readjusted the baby’s position and continued her thought. “She was, is, a…vampire. And, that you are also a vampire.”
The words escaped her lips and her facial expression morphed from humor at the thought of such a concept and then distress of said concept. Although her face showed these emotions, her body language indicated complete comfort. She didn’t exude the fear I usually detect from humans when in my presence. So much so, that she carefully scooted herself to the edge of the couch cradling the sleeping baby and excused herself to put the boy upstairs. She returned, falling into the overstuffed couch, with a heavy sigh.
“Does it frighten you?” I said as I turned my head from staring down at my hands.
“Should it? Estella said I was completely safe with you.” She replied confused but not fearful, her radiant green eyes boring into me.
“No…I mean yes, of course you are safe.” I paused after a tiny laugh, thinking as my brow furrowed and I changed the subject. “Why? You asked, correct?” I twisted my body on the couch to give her my full attention and took a deep breath preparing to not only frighten this woman beyond recognition but to caution her to the situation. But tonight she was different; she was curious and inquisitive; not horrified like most humans. Maybe she’s slowly accepting of this situation, Estella and her story. Maybe it’s the familiar surroundings; she has me on her “turf”. Whatever it may be I was thankful for the small beginnings, the tiny fibers of trust slowly come together to weave my quilt of defense. I will shelter her.
“Yes.” The word stung like a dagger in my heart.
“First, you are a direct descendant of a living, well, existing vampire. A vampire that has kept distant watch over her family for generations and will continue to do so for future generations.” I say matter-of-factly, but in the back of my mind I think, “If we survive this.”
“Second, we believe. That is our Queen, has reason to believe that you are the target of a vampire’s desire.” I had never spoken words more true, but I was thinking only of myself when I said them, not the creature stalking her every move.
“Desire?” her face squeezed up as she took it in.
I nodded and begin to elaborate.
The house is unfathomable and expansive from the side view. The front is wide, with help from its giant wrap-around front porch. Scrolled wrought iron connects pillared columns to support the vast awning above which is intricately designed. I look up further, the upstairs is blessed with the same treatment, and it is also adorned pillars and scrolled wrought iron to hold up the balcony. The house is painted white, the shutters are green downstairs. The trim around the French doors upstairs matches and there are four green rocking chairs painted the same green look down from up there.
Along the roof, I notice three chimneys protruding it. The closer I get to the front door I see to my far right another door leading to sitting sun room, high-end wicker furniture with brightly colored throw pillows sit arranged inside.
My attentions are diverted back to the front door where I see Babet through the thick glass fumbling with the knob and a muffled angelic voice, “Just…a minute, uh…..” I look down, at my feet a mat with an elaborate W printed in the fibers, the lock clicks back into the carved notch in the door and the knob turns. The heavy wooden door flies open and Babet stands cradling her son in a towel, attempting to balance the sopping excited baby. She is dressed in a brand new pair of jeans and gray V neck man’s undershirt, her black cherry hair pulled up to a ponytail. She staggered backwards allowing me entry.
“Good Evening.” I said looking into her brilliant green eyes as I cross the threshold. She was waiting for me, watching for my arrival. I present the little bath toy.
“Come in.” she said still smiling.
She laughs and holds out a hand to take it from me, our fingers graze and I feel the spark radiate. “Ah-ha, see Henri…here is ducky.” She says to the little boy squirming in her arms apparently unaffected as I. “Could have used this, where did we leave it?” She directs her attention back to me. She plays into Henri’s game, swinging him around before securing him, closing the door to face me.
“I found it in the bathroom upstairs at Audubon. By the way, it’s good to see you smiling,” I said as I stepped foot onto the dark wooden floors into the heavily crown molded foyer, immediately I see the first of three fireplaces, this one is marble with a heavy white mantle. This house is very old to have a fireplace in the foyer. I turn back to face Babet and as I do my head scathes the chandelier overhead.
“Yeah, no matter what’s going on in my life, the kids always make me smile.” She said snuggling her nose into the baby’s neck, nuzzling him until he cooed and then cackled. “Especially this one.” And she snuggled the boy again before saying, “Uh, so….what information do you need from me? I mean, of course I told Estella everything I know and remember about the night Griffin left...disappeared.” She seemed flustered as she corrected herself. It is clear to me she is not interested in discussing her reasons for leaving our safe house.
For a brief awkward moment we were both silent, I can’t help but stare, she becomes as fidgety as the little one in her arms. She hikes the boy further onto her body. “Well, make yourself comfortable I’m going to dress him for bed.” I watch as she turns down a small hallway and strode up a narrow staircase, like the first night I saw her at her shop in the Quarter. She clutched the boy, who stared back down at me over his mothers shoulder until his chubby hands carelessly gripped and examined a lock of her black cherry hair.
She had no idea of the effect her mere presence had on me, her very smell an intoxicating plethora of Lavender and Rose hips, hinted only to my ancient nose, mixed with the smell of fresh paint.
I stepped into this room and that room, all decorated precisely to Frankie’s obviously specific modern style, I smile internally at the same yet egregiously larger print of the Moonwalk photo as Audubon framed and mounted on the wall and I deduce that Frankie and Marcus don’t have children. The house is too immaculate and seems as though it stays that way.
I wander into a long drawing room where the second fireplace sat center two couches on either side facing each other, adjacent to a much modernized kitchen; cream, off white antique style French farmhouse cabinetry surround stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops.
A surprise to my old ears I hear the soothing melody of the 1940’s hit, “I’ll be seeing you” plays from an under the cabinet radio and I decide to sit on one of the overstuffed cream colored couches, I move the orange and blue pillows to one side while I enjoy the blend of the digitally restored song and Babet playfully dress Henri overhead, I can heard the baby squeal with delight from upstairs.
Babet comes down with the boy saddled to her hip, I can hear her padding through the house, possibly looking for me but I observe as she passes me by, she found what she was looking for, a baby cup in her hand. Her mood seemed determined and unwavering. I watch meticulously as she moves about the kitchen.
Open the refrigerator, pull out the milk, untwist the cup top, and place it on the counter. Pour the milk, return it to the refrigerator. Replace the cap on the cup. All while balancing Henri on her hip. She smiles at me when she returns with the baby, the cup now residing in his little hands, he grips the blue and red cup adorned with cars, turning it until finally placing the sipper in his mouth. He settles into his mother’s lap as she sits on the opposite couch; across from me.
I was glad, she was as far away from me as possible, her scent stronger than I had anticipated. She made herself comfortable and propped Henri up as he was clearly enjoying his beverage. Once she had the baby situated she turned her gaze expectantly for me to instigate conversation. I oblige her.
“Are you aware of what our purpose is here, in your life?” I asked keeping my tone indifferent.
She focuses on me, “Yes, and I appreciate all you both… you all, have done for us, but I have to ask, Why? Which is kind of why I bolted last night…this morning” and her gaze went from me to Henri, and back to me again, waiting for an answer.
“I thought…..How much did Estella make you aware of?”
She took a deep breath and rattled off the list from memory.
“I would assume everything. Firstly, which originally got my attention, other than the fact that she is absolutely stunning; she said my husband’s disappearance may be more than that, something supernatural. That she is my descendant. And Griffin’s. Which is rather creepy but interesting. She explained her connection to PGT Beauregard; which is kind of tragically romantic. She also mentioned she was a….” Babet’s intense focus on the conversation was disturbed as she glanced down at her baby who had fallen asleep, the sipper of the cup teetering halfway out of his heart shaped mouth.
Babet removed the cup from Henri’s listless grasp, placing it on the giant teak coffee table between us. She readjusted the baby’s position and continued her thought. “She was, is, a…vampire. And, that you are also a vampire.”
The words escaped her lips and her facial expression morphed from humor at the thought of such a concept and then distress of said concept. Although her face showed these emotions, her body language indicated complete comfort. She didn’t exude the fear I usually detect from humans when in my presence. So much so, that she carefully scooted herself to the edge of the couch cradling the sleeping baby and excused herself to put the boy upstairs. She returned, falling into the overstuffed couch, with a heavy sigh.
“Does it frighten you?” I said as I turned my head from staring down at my hands.
“Should it? Estella said I was completely safe with you.” She replied confused but not fearful, her radiant green eyes boring into me.
“No…I mean yes, of course you are safe.” I paused after a tiny laugh, thinking as my brow furrowed and I changed the subject. “Why? You asked, correct?” I twisted my body on the couch to give her my full attention and took a deep breath preparing to not only frighten this woman beyond recognition but to caution her to the situation. But tonight she was different; she was curious and inquisitive; not horrified like most humans. Maybe she’s slowly accepting of this situation, Estella and her story. Maybe it’s the familiar surroundings; she has me on her “turf”. Whatever it may be I was thankful for the small beginnings, the tiny fibers of trust slowly come together to weave my quilt of defense. I will shelter her.
“Yes.” The word stung like a dagger in my heart.
“First, you are a direct descendant of a living, well, existing vampire. A vampire that has kept distant watch over her family for generations and will continue to do so for future generations.” I say matter-of-factly, but in the back of my mind I think, “If we survive this.”
“Second, we believe. That is our Queen, has reason to believe that you are the target of a vampire’s desire.” I had never spoken words more true, but I was thinking only of myself when I said them, not the creature stalking her every move.
“Desire?” her face squeezed up as she took it in.
I nodded and begin to elaborate.
December 23, 2013
Why are humans NEVER where you put them!?!?!
“Come in Cian.” I smiled to myself, thinking how ridiculous I must have seemed to the vampire who can read the energy and events of any place at any time. Still smiling I pushed the door open just enough to slide myself in. There she stood in the middle of her stone cell, fresh from the bath. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned, piled high on her head so it wouldn’t get wet. She was a vision wrapped in white terry cloth, the towel contrasting her pale skin; I stood staring at her beauty. She allowed me to gaze at her immortal bounty while she slowly removed her towel leaving it a pile on the floor, reminding me, revealing even more of her to my ancient eyes. I returned my thoughtful eyes to her face and asked if she was ready to go back into the library. She removed the binding in her hair, shaking it loose.
“Madliene requests my presence this evening, so you’re on your own tonight,” she said as she slipped her feet into and pulled up the black body suit she would be displaying at the club, sliding her arms through the tank top straps, securing them to her shoulders. “I want to help you,” and she trailed off continuing her sentence in a slightly lower tone, “more than you know.”
“Have you heard from her?” I rephrased to deter any insinuation of my desire to see her again. “When will you be checking in on Babet then?” I asked exasperatedly.
“Not yet, I haven’t heard from her. Cain, think you can handle it?” She replied cautiously, then with a hint of humor.
I stood watching as Estella bent over to grab a pair of black stiletto lace up heels, admiring her assets. I loved Estella, I have always loved Estella. Of course my obsessions for the time being had turned elsewhere.
“You better be glad you are so fucking exquisite.” I said ominously before turning to leave, she stopped me cold but I didn’t turn back to face her.
“Thanks Cian.” A sweet smile in her voice. I bent my head and closed the haven door.
I can admit that since the night I met Estella I had been obsessed with her, but I am not what Estella normally desires, and what Estella desires, Angelique, has been a recluse since the taking of her sister, Sophia. But this current lack of respect for our common knowledge of her preferences was infuriatingly… satisfying?
I shook these thoughts and smiled at the thought of Estella, nodding to her as I made my exit from her chamber. The heavy door clasped and I made my way back down the hall to the stone cylinder where the spiral staircase sat. I rounded the floors until I got to club level, stepped out of the staircase, crossed the foyer and flung open the large wooden doors, revealing Morte’ in its pre-glory. With the house lights up; there was no mystery to the vampire club. I noticed Sophia as I crossed the “dance floor”, she was dressed in the same black cat-suit that Estella had graciously, in my presence, dressed in.
She flashed me a weak smile and I returned one to her as I walked out the door. I decided to make a quick trip to my haven to acquire a meal and additional components should I need them tonight.
I was to check in on her….Alone. This fact made me feel delightfully uneasy, giddy even. Should that thing find her, I would be prepared. I reached my own warehouse, took the elevator up and gathered what I needed. I suspect I moved a little stealthier knowing I would be in the presence of Babet, and possibly her children, alone.
This prospect in itself would be a violation of our current vampire code. No vampire is to be in the presence of children, alone or chaperoned. The sweet smell of their innocent blood can send some of us into frenzy. I began think positively regarding tonight, straightened myself as I made my trek.
I thought, “Fortunately, I am old enough to be aware of the danger I pose for Babet and her children and being as I still harbor humanity”, I felt confident in myself. Then the terrible came through. And I began to think that in spite of my age, I am still a vampire and a primal being by nature. This enlightenment invoked thoughts of taking this woman and sexually ravaging her, ingesting her crimson flow and never let her out of my sight.
Thoughts that frightened even me spiraled in my mind as I reached the entry to the unit of Audubon Trace townhouses where the Queen had “stashed” the woman and her two children. Just like I had stood outside of Estella’s chambers, I found myself doing the same, staring at the door to the townhouse. Inside a confused young woman and her small children wait to be instructed by a coven of vampires, one of which is their descendant.
What where we doing? Why had we become involved? Normally, we would let the chips fall where they may as far as humans are concerned, if a human is victimized by a vampire; that is just how it is. This woman was different somehow, to me, to Madliene, but especially; Estella.
The Audubon Trace community is even more Stepford at twilight; a conglomerate of townhouses inside the French Quarter, a location central to almost everything for Babet. She would be within distance of her studio now gutted by flame and ash. Not only would she be able to settle the affairs of the burnt out frame of the building, but she would be able to transport Scarlet to and from school without driving too far.
All the units in the Trace were designed differently; including Madliene’s…or Babet’s. I stood staring at the double stacked bay windows on the front of the townhouse which gave it a feel of real homeliness inside and out. No lights illuminated the top bay window or the bottom. I immediately get a suspicious feeling, my guts wrenching inside with extreme anxiety when I realize her car is not in the lot.
I climbed the few step and knock on the door, there is no answer, I knock again slightly harder and with the fervor of feeling something was amiss. I raised my fist and beat the door to the ground, causing a devastating crash inside. The small stained glass window shattered on the floor at my feet. I do a quick recon, the only sign of Babet, Scarlet or Henri, was the twenty shopping bags at the bottom of the staircase.
I bound up the stairs, the four poster cannon bed looked as though no one had slept in it. I crossed the hall to the secondary bedrooms and the same result. As if they hadn’t stayed here during last night. I am agitated, disturbed and furious. I quickly text Estella, who by now should still be getting ready for work.
“TELL ME YOU HEARD FROM HER?!?!”
Immediately I get a reply.
“Where are you?”
God, she infuriates me more than my current predicament.
“AUDUBON!!!!” I reply
“CHRIST!”
It’s five, grueling minutes before I get another text from Estella and it’s obvious she is less concerned than I as I am wearing a path into the dark wooden floor.
“She is at her friend Frankie’s house.”
Frankie, the petite blonde at the presentation, I roll my eyes…..women! I text Estella back and it’s clear I am not in the mood for “around the bend”.
“ADDRESS!!!”
There, that should spark a bit of a fire under the vampire great (who knows how many) aunt. My phone rings.
“What.” I am short and stern with Estella.
“Cian, I don’t think she is in any danger spending the evening with her friend. She’s lost a lot and I am sure she could use some familiar bonding.” Estella is optimistically cautious with her words. I am silent.
“Cian? You there?”
I sigh, “Yeah, yeah I’m here.”
“Look, I gave her your number, if she needs you she’ll call.”
I decide to keep my dark theories to myself tonight. But the fact of the matter is, if she’s dead before she can reach the phone, we may have a problem. Her friends can’t protect her like we can, at least physically. I am very sure that Babet is taking in quite a bit of mental protection talking and spending, how did Estella put it, “Familiar bonding” time and I understand, we are extremely unfamiliar, but we intend to have her best interests at heart.
Then I begin to think about seeing one of us in action, yes she would be impressed but I am sure frightened. To see someone you trust with you and your children’s safety rip someone in half to do so may come as quite a shock. I realize I haven’t responded to Estella.
“I broke the door at Audubon.” I am ashamed at my fervor.
Estella laughs heartily before saying, “You do have it bad!”
“Just tell Madliene.” My tone is exasperated as I push the button to hang up on a laughing Estella.
I cross the foyer to the great room, plopping down on the overstuffed furniture. Can this be true, vampire bounty hunter; Cian has nothing to do for the night?! It’s an unsettling thought but a welcome one. I smile to myself looking around the starkly decorated townhouse. The Queen really isn’t much for grandiose décor when in her own home I suppose, considering the club is so ornately decorated.
I wasn’t clear on how much time the Queen even spent here; she has a vast chamber and all comforts of home at Morte’. I also suppose that for someone who has property all over the world, keeping up with modern décor would be quite a chore. I am easily bored, so I take the time to inspect the townhouse, conveying its tiniest details to memory.
The walls are of course, red and adorned with local art; paintings and sketches, pottery and photography, including a modest shot of the Moonwalk taken by Molly DuBois. The cream crown molding and baseboards are immaculate of dust. The furniture is overstuffed yet modern, in a large beige hounds-tooth print. The floors throughout are dark wood and the majority of it is covered in the great room by a geometric rug. There is a small dark pub table with four bars chairs in a corner off the great room. The stone fireplace houses a large mirror on the mantle.
Through the hall behind the couch is an updated kitchen, with granite counter-tops, cherry cabinets and a deep farm style sink. The access to the back yard is through a set of French doors that lead to a covered porch. I come back through the hall and round the corner to climb the steps. I stop on the small landing at the very top, directly in front of me a closet housing washer and dryer and to the right a master bedroom, decked out in a dark wood colonial four poster cannon style bed, draped with damask bedding and littered with pillows.
Dark matching bedside tables; a chest-on-chest and dressing table tucked into the corners of the grand room. I go in, on the far left are double doors that open to a spa-style bathroom, a basin tub backs up to a shower stall with travertine tile and river rock accent, a glass door and glass sink basins inside granite counter tops.
I leave the master and my boots clomp down the hall as I inspect the two secondary bedrooms. Both have similar bedroom suites, sleigh beds covered in modest white bedding. A single tiny nightstand accompanies a single chest of drawers. There is a communal bath in the hall, similar to the master. I look beyond the glass shower door and see a small whale baby bath toy, Henri’s.
I smile at the thought of the, no doubt, spry little boy, sleeping angelically in his mother’s safe arms. I feel the vibration and hear the default ringtone as my phone buzzes in my back pocket; I pull it out and see a number I am unfamiliar with. I grab the tiny toy and answer my phone.
“Cian.” I say as dull and serious as possible because this may be a job.
“Hi…..um, this is Babet.”
An enjoyable rush comes over me; I am elated and floored at the improved sound of her voice.
“Hello.” I can feel the enchantment in my voice looming.
She laughs and I almost crumble to the floor, it’s a magnetizing sound. I feel my teeth run out.
“Henri….put that….thank you,” Her voice sings at the final words. “Sorry about that…..um, I just wanted to call and apologize for not being at the townhouse when you arrived, I….desperately needed…some, familiarity.”
Estella words return to haunt me and I am silent before reassuring her, “Understandable, I accept.”
“Accept…..what?”
“Your apology.”
“Oh, yes.” She laughs, I die inside.
“Thank you. Again, I am very sorry.” Her tone is genuinely apologetic.
“I’m glad you are receiving the support you need and please tell your friend we would like to meet her at her earliest convenience.” I am struggling to remain calm and not demand the address of her friend.
“Well, she will be back in town on Friday; she left for North Carolina this morning. A little worse for wear, I admit, after we show up on her doorstep….” She trails off.
I am growing increasingly frantic but I have to curb my primal instinct to lash out over the phone. How can I be overbearing when she has no idea the lengths we are willing go to in order to protect and preserve her and her two children. I must quiet the fire and turn the charm on full high to rectify the situation. She must realize that what she is confessing is in complete disregard for the calculating steps we have set in place to help her. I take a deep breath and I get the feeling she is aware of my irritation.
“You’re mad, aren’t you?” She asks sheepishly.
“Mad can mean many things. Would you mind if we discussed this face to face?” My reply is calm, cold maybe, but it’s what is required.
“Um….” She is wary and apprehensive, the same as she was last night. “I think Frankie would be okay with it. Sure.” Her tone turns positive.
I hang up with Babet and make my way down the stairs, glass littering the floor at the bottom. I secured the door to the best of its ability and leaving Audubon I realize that there is a basement level I wasn’t able to inspect. But for now I will assume it’s the, impenetrable by light, space reserved for Madliene.
“Madliene requests my presence this evening, so you’re on your own tonight,” she said as she slipped her feet into and pulled up the black body suit she would be displaying at the club, sliding her arms through the tank top straps, securing them to her shoulders. “I want to help you,” and she trailed off continuing her sentence in a slightly lower tone, “more than you know.”
“Have you heard from her?” I rephrased to deter any insinuation of my desire to see her again. “When will you be checking in on Babet then?” I asked exasperatedly.
“Not yet, I haven’t heard from her. Cain, think you can handle it?” She replied cautiously, then with a hint of humor.
I stood watching as Estella bent over to grab a pair of black stiletto lace up heels, admiring her assets. I loved Estella, I have always loved Estella. Of course my obsessions for the time being had turned elsewhere.
“You better be glad you are so fucking exquisite.” I said ominously before turning to leave, she stopped me cold but I didn’t turn back to face her.
“Thanks Cian.” A sweet smile in her voice. I bent my head and closed the haven door.
I can admit that since the night I met Estella I had been obsessed with her, but I am not what Estella normally desires, and what Estella desires, Angelique, has been a recluse since the taking of her sister, Sophia. But this current lack of respect for our common knowledge of her preferences was infuriatingly… satisfying?
I shook these thoughts and smiled at the thought of Estella, nodding to her as I made my exit from her chamber. The heavy door clasped and I made my way back down the hall to the stone cylinder where the spiral staircase sat. I rounded the floors until I got to club level, stepped out of the staircase, crossed the foyer and flung open the large wooden doors, revealing Morte’ in its pre-glory. With the house lights up; there was no mystery to the vampire club. I noticed Sophia as I crossed the “dance floor”, she was dressed in the same black cat-suit that Estella had graciously, in my presence, dressed in.
She flashed me a weak smile and I returned one to her as I walked out the door. I decided to make a quick trip to my haven to acquire a meal and additional components should I need them tonight.
I was to check in on her….Alone. This fact made me feel delightfully uneasy, giddy even. Should that thing find her, I would be prepared. I reached my own warehouse, took the elevator up and gathered what I needed. I suspect I moved a little stealthier knowing I would be in the presence of Babet, and possibly her children, alone.
This prospect in itself would be a violation of our current vampire code. No vampire is to be in the presence of children, alone or chaperoned. The sweet smell of their innocent blood can send some of us into frenzy. I began think positively regarding tonight, straightened myself as I made my trek.
I thought, “Fortunately, I am old enough to be aware of the danger I pose for Babet and her children and being as I still harbor humanity”, I felt confident in myself. Then the terrible came through. And I began to think that in spite of my age, I am still a vampire and a primal being by nature. This enlightenment invoked thoughts of taking this woman and sexually ravaging her, ingesting her crimson flow and never let her out of my sight.
Thoughts that frightened even me spiraled in my mind as I reached the entry to the unit of Audubon Trace townhouses where the Queen had “stashed” the woman and her two children. Just like I had stood outside of Estella’s chambers, I found myself doing the same, staring at the door to the townhouse. Inside a confused young woman and her small children wait to be instructed by a coven of vampires, one of which is their descendant.
What where we doing? Why had we become involved? Normally, we would let the chips fall where they may as far as humans are concerned, if a human is victimized by a vampire; that is just how it is. This woman was different somehow, to me, to Madliene, but especially; Estella.
The Audubon Trace community is even more Stepford at twilight; a conglomerate of townhouses inside the French Quarter, a location central to almost everything for Babet. She would be within distance of her studio now gutted by flame and ash. Not only would she be able to settle the affairs of the burnt out frame of the building, but she would be able to transport Scarlet to and from school without driving too far.
All the units in the Trace were designed differently; including Madliene’s…or Babet’s. I stood staring at the double stacked bay windows on the front of the townhouse which gave it a feel of real homeliness inside and out. No lights illuminated the top bay window or the bottom. I immediately get a suspicious feeling, my guts wrenching inside with extreme anxiety when I realize her car is not in the lot.
I climbed the few step and knock on the door, there is no answer, I knock again slightly harder and with the fervor of feeling something was amiss. I raised my fist and beat the door to the ground, causing a devastating crash inside. The small stained glass window shattered on the floor at my feet. I do a quick recon, the only sign of Babet, Scarlet or Henri, was the twenty shopping bags at the bottom of the staircase.
I bound up the stairs, the four poster cannon bed looked as though no one had slept in it. I crossed the hall to the secondary bedrooms and the same result. As if they hadn’t stayed here during last night. I am agitated, disturbed and furious. I quickly text Estella, who by now should still be getting ready for work.
“TELL ME YOU HEARD FROM HER?!?!”
Immediately I get a reply.
“Where are you?”
God, she infuriates me more than my current predicament.
“AUDUBON!!!!” I reply
“CHRIST!”
It’s five, grueling minutes before I get another text from Estella and it’s obvious she is less concerned than I as I am wearing a path into the dark wooden floor.
“She is at her friend Frankie’s house.”
Frankie, the petite blonde at the presentation, I roll my eyes…..women! I text Estella back and it’s clear I am not in the mood for “around the bend”.
“ADDRESS!!!”
There, that should spark a bit of a fire under the vampire great (who knows how many) aunt. My phone rings.
“What.” I am short and stern with Estella.
“Cian, I don’t think she is in any danger spending the evening with her friend. She’s lost a lot and I am sure she could use some familiar bonding.” Estella is optimistically cautious with her words. I am silent.
“Cian? You there?”
I sigh, “Yeah, yeah I’m here.”
“Look, I gave her your number, if she needs you she’ll call.”
I decide to keep my dark theories to myself tonight. But the fact of the matter is, if she’s dead before she can reach the phone, we may have a problem. Her friends can’t protect her like we can, at least physically. I am very sure that Babet is taking in quite a bit of mental protection talking and spending, how did Estella put it, “Familiar bonding” time and I understand, we are extremely unfamiliar, but we intend to have her best interests at heart.
Then I begin to think about seeing one of us in action, yes she would be impressed but I am sure frightened. To see someone you trust with you and your children’s safety rip someone in half to do so may come as quite a shock. I realize I haven’t responded to Estella.
“I broke the door at Audubon.” I am ashamed at my fervor.
Estella laughs heartily before saying, “You do have it bad!”
“Just tell Madliene.” My tone is exasperated as I push the button to hang up on a laughing Estella.
I cross the foyer to the great room, plopping down on the overstuffed furniture. Can this be true, vampire bounty hunter; Cian has nothing to do for the night?! It’s an unsettling thought but a welcome one. I smile to myself looking around the starkly decorated townhouse. The Queen really isn’t much for grandiose décor when in her own home I suppose, considering the club is so ornately decorated.
I wasn’t clear on how much time the Queen even spent here; she has a vast chamber and all comforts of home at Morte’. I also suppose that for someone who has property all over the world, keeping up with modern décor would be quite a chore. I am easily bored, so I take the time to inspect the townhouse, conveying its tiniest details to memory.
The walls are of course, red and adorned with local art; paintings and sketches, pottery and photography, including a modest shot of the Moonwalk taken by Molly DuBois. The cream crown molding and baseboards are immaculate of dust. The furniture is overstuffed yet modern, in a large beige hounds-tooth print. The floors throughout are dark wood and the majority of it is covered in the great room by a geometric rug. There is a small dark pub table with four bars chairs in a corner off the great room. The stone fireplace houses a large mirror on the mantle.
Through the hall behind the couch is an updated kitchen, with granite counter-tops, cherry cabinets and a deep farm style sink. The access to the back yard is through a set of French doors that lead to a covered porch. I come back through the hall and round the corner to climb the steps. I stop on the small landing at the very top, directly in front of me a closet housing washer and dryer and to the right a master bedroom, decked out in a dark wood colonial four poster cannon style bed, draped with damask bedding and littered with pillows.
Dark matching bedside tables; a chest-on-chest and dressing table tucked into the corners of the grand room. I go in, on the far left are double doors that open to a spa-style bathroom, a basin tub backs up to a shower stall with travertine tile and river rock accent, a glass door and glass sink basins inside granite counter tops.
I leave the master and my boots clomp down the hall as I inspect the two secondary bedrooms. Both have similar bedroom suites, sleigh beds covered in modest white bedding. A single tiny nightstand accompanies a single chest of drawers. There is a communal bath in the hall, similar to the master. I look beyond the glass shower door and see a small whale baby bath toy, Henri’s.
I smile at the thought of the, no doubt, spry little boy, sleeping angelically in his mother’s safe arms. I feel the vibration and hear the default ringtone as my phone buzzes in my back pocket; I pull it out and see a number I am unfamiliar with. I grab the tiny toy and answer my phone.
“Cian.” I say as dull and serious as possible because this may be a job.
“Hi…..um, this is Babet.”
An enjoyable rush comes over me; I am elated and floored at the improved sound of her voice.
“Hello.” I can feel the enchantment in my voice looming.
She laughs and I almost crumble to the floor, it’s a magnetizing sound. I feel my teeth run out.
“Henri….put that….thank you,” Her voice sings at the final words. “Sorry about that…..um, I just wanted to call and apologize for not being at the townhouse when you arrived, I….desperately needed…some, familiarity.”
Estella words return to haunt me and I am silent before reassuring her, “Understandable, I accept.”
“Accept…..what?”
“Your apology.”
“Oh, yes.” She laughs, I die inside.
“Thank you. Again, I am very sorry.” Her tone is genuinely apologetic.
“I’m glad you are receiving the support you need and please tell your friend we would like to meet her at her earliest convenience.” I am struggling to remain calm and not demand the address of her friend.
“Well, she will be back in town on Friday; she left for North Carolina this morning. A little worse for wear, I admit, after we show up on her doorstep….” She trails off.
I am growing increasingly frantic but I have to curb my primal instinct to lash out over the phone. How can I be overbearing when she has no idea the lengths we are willing go to in order to protect and preserve her and her two children. I must quiet the fire and turn the charm on full high to rectify the situation. She must realize that what she is confessing is in complete disregard for the calculating steps we have set in place to help her. I take a deep breath and I get the feeling she is aware of my irritation.
“You’re mad, aren’t you?” She asks sheepishly.
“Mad can mean many things. Would you mind if we discussed this face to face?” My reply is calm, cold maybe, but it’s what is required.
“Um….” She is wary and apprehensive, the same as she was last night. “I think Frankie would be okay with it. Sure.” Her tone turns positive.
I hang up with Babet and make my way down the stairs, glass littering the floor at the bottom. I secured the door to the best of its ability and leaving Audubon I realize that there is a basement level I wasn’t able to inspect. But for now I will assume it’s the, impenetrable by light, space reserved for Madliene.
December 16, 2013
The REAL Morte'...
Along with the wardrobe for three, Estella made arrangements for food to be delivered to Babet and her children regularly. Estella had also suggested Babet keep her daughter from attending school and Babet said she would consider it. As I walk back toward my haven I am providential, resplendent, and fulfilled by tonight’s events, the touch of her hand and the sound of her voice; riding beside her in her aroma filled car.
Her tear stained face and brilliant green eyes, the silky canvas that is her back….so oblivious as I leisurely stroll down the long corridor of warehouses on Calliope. I am in complete disregard for anything to bring me down from this illustrious high. So much so, I am utterly astonished when I see Estella propped against my haven door. I pull the cell from my pocket and check the time, fifty two minutes to sun up.
“Estella.” I say, moving her aside to insert my key. Her snarky demeanor is slightly bewildering.
“You still want to ransack Madliene’s library?” A devilish smile crosses her lips.Revelations of Cian
I remove my key.
We arrive at Morte’ to an orgy in full swing, H.I.M. (His Infernal Majesty)’s cover of Chris Isaac’s “Wicked Game” blaring through the club; we stride through, passing the naked bodies of vampire and human alike, arms, legs, heads all intertwined like multicolored spider’s legs tangled together. The diversity of partners was apparent, female and female, male and male, and male and female. A group of five had a vast audience; a female vampire listlessly licked the menstruation from a human girl.
I shudder to think of the preferences of some vampires, I saw further that the female vamp herself was being sexually satisfied from the human male behind her. An androgen male vampire fed off of an already occupied human male as another human male orally pleasured another male vampire. Estella was un-fazed by all of this as was I but being as I don’t see it every night I am slightly less immune than she.
I maintain composure and continued to walk past as my concentration on the task at hand was interrupted when a young girl who was having her breasts feasted upon by two aged immortals, grabbed my arm. I looked down at her, her face and emotions revealing the ecstasy she currently felt. I began to pull away as her grasp of me became weak; I knew she was at her end and her lifeless hand fell to the floor.
I turned my gaze to the two males who had extinguished her; they abandoned the girl and in no time Romeo and Damien came to drag the girl’s body from the floor. I took all this in but didn’t over think it, while strolling to the back of the club with Estella, where the haven doors lie. We took the spiral stone staircase down to the depths of Morte’, a musty dark place.
The basement, to the right, had been renovated to include gated stone cells for unwelcome vampires and to the left a long dark corridor leading to the wine cellar, beyond the wine cellar, our library.
Morte’s Library; houses the tomes of our kind written over the centuries, some authors’ vampire, and some human. We reach the bottom of the stone staircase to the wine cellar, racks upon racks of wine from early years made by monks to the more recent Merlots, Zinfandels, and Chablis; all cataloged and inventoried on a very regular basis. Our Queen is nothing if not organized.
Through the rows of wine bottles that created a corridor, Estella leads me to what looked like a carved wooden wall, she tapped a succession of beats to gain entry to the library, and as soon as the door slides open the smell of fresh sage and musk fill my senses. An octagonal room at least fifty feet in height encased in thick carved wood, floor to ceiling bookshelves not an inch of space; should the Queen wish to add to the room she would have to break into the floor above, if there was one.
In the center of the room a pair of crimson Victorian couches sat either side of a teak coffee table, there is little light in the room; sporadic lamps sit dimly around the room. Unlike the wine cellar the library is not cataloged because entry is only granted to those close to the Queen. Public Vampire Library; it is not.
Estella and I pulled various references, books, scrolls, and a couple of stone tablets. Pouring over the coffee table Estella and I spent the remainder of the evening reading and during that time I became curious as to how Babet had accepted the revelation that Estella was her descendant in more ways than one.
“I was listening but not intently, how did she take it?” I asked as Estella unrolled an old Roman scroll.
“Who,” she replied looking up at me, my face indicating her absentmindedness. “Oh, well of course she was shocked at first, at the revelation, then horrified at my situation, but finally she was just thankful to know she had some family around no matter the situation.” Estella trailed off to look more closely at the scroll and then grinning, she said, “After you left, Scarlet got up from the couch and carried Henri into the bedroom with Babet, I sat and talked to them for a bit, she thought it was cool.”
“Kids.” I said jokingly and we shared a smile. But I couldn’t help recall the girl’s eyes penetrate me.
“She was very curious about you though. She kept saying that she knew you, or had seen you before. I can’t remember.”
“Scarlet?!?” I am floored.
“Babet.”
“And you said?”
“I told her, you just have one of those faces. I also mentioned the protection detail.”
“I just hope what we are doing is more help than hurt.” My tone became harsh.
“Yeah, really….Cian, look at this.”
Estella excitedly held up a Roman scroll, two feet long. The parchment was brittle around the edges as she carefully rolled the rod down. In Latin the scroll described in great detail a series of attacks on the people of the collegiums by allegedly inhuman creatures. Slaves disappearing from prominent homes, children and adult bodies found, all been drained of blood.
Continuous occurrences in the collegiums caused mass panic and hysteria, resulting in a little under half the population temporarily relocating. Weeks went by and then one day no bodies were found under suspicious circumstances and life returned to normal, for Rome. I asked Estella to pull more of the scrolls prior to the date of this scroll, including vampire registration during that time period.
Estella glanced over to me and taped the screen on her cell phone.
Dawn was fast approaching and I had yet to gain permitted to stay within the havens of Morte’. Estella and I reserved the scrolls to examine the following evening and made our way back through the wine cellar and up the stone staircase. The club lights were up and the silence of Morte’ was an interesting feeling indeed.
“It appears as though it’s my place to offer you hospitality, but before I do I want you to be aware that…I know.” Her eyes intent on me.
“You know what?” I feign interest and she grabs my arm. I stare at it and then look up at her.
“Cut the shit Cian, I went back pretty fucking far and….EVERY NIGHT!!!!” Her exasperation is emotionally palpable. “I knew you had an interest, but I think it’s bordering on obsession at this point.”
I am visibly inadequate in my speechlessness after Estella’s scolding but she is quick to forgive considering our time together. Her tense emotion begins to fade to sympathy. I take this for what it’s worth.
“There is something more about her, Estella. I feel captivated when in close proximity to her; I think about her, I dream of her in day-stasis. Her scent is the most….” I trail off as Estella’s emotional radiation is beginning to become unbearable again. She straightens herself up quick.
Estella said she would speak with Madliene and that of course, it wasn’t a problem for me to spend the day in the havens. We made a couple of awkward jokes regarding my staying in her haven cell but ultimately I was granted my own stone cell with minimal antique furnishings, a full sized bed and side table held a single lamp.
A small roll top desk sat across from the bed, a tiny chair pushed underneath. Along the far wall, a tall thin tapestry depicting a floral border around two children holding hands. I dropped my gear by the desk and dropped myself onto the bed. Laying in stasis I still felt the cool breeze from the exterior corridor, the musty dank odor blowing over my body occasionally while I “slept”.
Once the sun went down I would be ecstatic to return to the library in the pit belly of Morte’. I hated being away from my haven, my smell, my domain. As I lay, surrounded by unfamiliarity and lacking the ability to have control over myself, I think of my inadvertent offense against Estella, speaking truthfully of Babet’s effects over me. If I couldn’t confide in Estella, who knew me and knew this wasn’t like me, who could I then?
I begin to feel a bit put off as she asked why I had been there every night, which I felt was an exaggeration, but might not have been. She wanted to know, and I am in the right frame of mind to say that from this point on honesty between Estella and I would have to become priority number one, were we to protect this…her family.
I also listlessly fantasize a breakthrough discovery in the library, putting all of this to rest. Who in history had, at any time controlled the creatures? Who still had one in existence now? Alistair, Flannaghan, but they would travel together if in fact they were still together. Madliene’s children? There were so many, I would have to search the globe for them ALL. The Queen had only provided a short list and of those on that list only two or three remain. My thoughts raced over and over and again, until her face flashed in my mind.
Babet, her black cherry hair cascading over her shoulders, curled around the outside of her breasts the way it does. Her innocent green eyes that stared into me last night, tears falling from them. The few images of her stored in my memory were flashing wickedly through me and I felt like I was going to explode the images spinning, whirling too fast to decipher.
Finally I was blessed with the kiss of dusk, my body released from its petrified state and I leapt from the antique bed, grabbed my jacket and headed out the door of the stone cell to locate Estella. I was on the other side of the haven floor when I encountered Romeo. He glanced up at me and then back down to his feet as we got closer to each other in the hall. As our strides met, I grabbed his arm, jerking him back to face me. He glanced down at my hand grasping his arm and then to face me.
“Romeo,” I said questioningly suspicious, “Where can I find Estella?”
“She’s probably getting ready for work.” And he attempted to jerk his arm from me, failing miserably. She had said she would continue to research with me in the library tonight.
I absentmindedly released his arm and he quickly stepped out of my reach before bolting down the hall shouting back to me, “Last door on the right!”
As if I wasn’t aware of the location of her chamber, he knew better.
I made my way down the hall toward Estella’s chamber door. Standing in front of the ornate carved wooden slab, representing Estella, held by large iron rivets to the stone wall debating whether to knock when I heard her muffled voice through the door.
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Her tear stained face and brilliant green eyes, the silky canvas that is her back….so oblivious as I leisurely stroll down the long corridor of warehouses on Calliope. I am in complete disregard for anything to bring me down from this illustrious high. So much so, I am utterly astonished when I see Estella propped against my haven door. I pull the cell from my pocket and check the time, fifty two minutes to sun up.
“Estella.” I say, moving her aside to insert my key. Her snarky demeanor is slightly bewildering.
“You still want to ransack Madliene’s library?” A devilish smile crosses her lips.Revelations of Cian
I remove my key.
We arrive at Morte’ to an orgy in full swing, H.I.M. (His Infernal Majesty)’s cover of Chris Isaac’s “Wicked Game” blaring through the club; we stride through, passing the naked bodies of vampire and human alike, arms, legs, heads all intertwined like multicolored spider’s legs tangled together. The diversity of partners was apparent, female and female, male and male, and male and female. A group of five had a vast audience; a female vampire listlessly licked the menstruation from a human girl.
I shudder to think of the preferences of some vampires, I saw further that the female vamp herself was being sexually satisfied from the human male behind her. An androgen male vampire fed off of an already occupied human male as another human male orally pleasured another male vampire. Estella was un-fazed by all of this as was I but being as I don’t see it every night I am slightly less immune than she.
I maintain composure and continued to walk past as my concentration on the task at hand was interrupted when a young girl who was having her breasts feasted upon by two aged immortals, grabbed my arm. I looked down at her, her face and emotions revealing the ecstasy she currently felt. I began to pull away as her grasp of me became weak; I knew she was at her end and her lifeless hand fell to the floor.
I turned my gaze to the two males who had extinguished her; they abandoned the girl and in no time Romeo and Damien came to drag the girl’s body from the floor. I took all this in but didn’t over think it, while strolling to the back of the club with Estella, where the haven doors lie. We took the spiral stone staircase down to the depths of Morte’, a musty dark place.
The basement, to the right, had been renovated to include gated stone cells for unwelcome vampires and to the left a long dark corridor leading to the wine cellar, beyond the wine cellar, our library.
Morte’s Library; houses the tomes of our kind written over the centuries, some authors’ vampire, and some human. We reach the bottom of the stone staircase to the wine cellar, racks upon racks of wine from early years made by monks to the more recent Merlots, Zinfandels, and Chablis; all cataloged and inventoried on a very regular basis. Our Queen is nothing if not organized.
Through the rows of wine bottles that created a corridor, Estella leads me to what looked like a carved wooden wall, she tapped a succession of beats to gain entry to the library, and as soon as the door slides open the smell of fresh sage and musk fill my senses. An octagonal room at least fifty feet in height encased in thick carved wood, floor to ceiling bookshelves not an inch of space; should the Queen wish to add to the room she would have to break into the floor above, if there was one.
In the center of the room a pair of crimson Victorian couches sat either side of a teak coffee table, there is little light in the room; sporadic lamps sit dimly around the room. Unlike the wine cellar the library is not cataloged because entry is only granted to those close to the Queen. Public Vampire Library; it is not.
Estella and I pulled various references, books, scrolls, and a couple of stone tablets. Pouring over the coffee table Estella and I spent the remainder of the evening reading and during that time I became curious as to how Babet had accepted the revelation that Estella was her descendant in more ways than one.
“I was listening but not intently, how did she take it?” I asked as Estella unrolled an old Roman scroll.
“Who,” she replied looking up at me, my face indicating her absentmindedness. “Oh, well of course she was shocked at first, at the revelation, then horrified at my situation, but finally she was just thankful to know she had some family around no matter the situation.” Estella trailed off to look more closely at the scroll and then grinning, she said, “After you left, Scarlet got up from the couch and carried Henri into the bedroom with Babet, I sat and talked to them for a bit, she thought it was cool.”
“Kids.” I said jokingly and we shared a smile. But I couldn’t help recall the girl’s eyes penetrate me.
“She was very curious about you though. She kept saying that she knew you, or had seen you before. I can’t remember.”
“Scarlet?!?” I am floored.
“Babet.”
“And you said?”
“I told her, you just have one of those faces. I also mentioned the protection detail.”
“I just hope what we are doing is more help than hurt.” My tone became harsh.
“Yeah, really….Cian, look at this.”
Estella excitedly held up a Roman scroll, two feet long. The parchment was brittle around the edges as she carefully rolled the rod down. In Latin the scroll described in great detail a series of attacks on the people of the collegiums by allegedly inhuman creatures. Slaves disappearing from prominent homes, children and adult bodies found, all been drained of blood.
Continuous occurrences in the collegiums caused mass panic and hysteria, resulting in a little under half the population temporarily relocating. Weeks went by and then one day no bodies were found under suspicious circumstances and life returned to normal, for Rome. I asked Estella to pull more of the scrolls prior to the date of this scroll, including vampire registration during that time period.
Estella glanced over to me and taped the screen on her cell phone.
Dawn was fast approaching and I had yet to gain permitted to stay within the havens of Morte’. Estella and I reserved the scrolls to examine the following evening and made our way back through the wine cellar and up the stone staircase. The club lights were up and the silence of Morte’ was an interesting feeling indeed.
“It appears as though it’s my place to offer you hospitality, but before I do I want you to be aware that…I know.” Her eyes intent on me.
“You know what?” I feign interest and she grabs my arm. I stare at it and then look up at her.
“Cut the shit Cian, I went back pretty fucking far and….EVERY NIGHT!!!!” Her exasperation is emotionally palpable. “I knew you had an interest, but I think it’s bordering on obsession at this point.”
I am visibly inadequate in my speechlessness after Estella’s scolding but she is quick to forgive considering our time together. Her tense emotion begins to fade to sympathy. I take this for what it’s worth.
“There is something more about her, Estella. I feel captivated when in close proximity to her; I think about her, I dream of her in day-stasis. Her scent is the most….” I trail off as Estella’s emotional radiation is beginning to become unbearable again. She straightens herself up quick.
Estella said she would speak with Madliene and that of course, it wasn’t a problem for me to spend the day in the havens. We made a couple of awkward jokes regarding my staying in her haven cell but ultimately I was granted my own stone cell with minimal antique furnishings, a full sized bed and side table held a single lamp.
A small roll top desk sat across from the bed, a tiny chair pushed underneath. Along the far wall, a tall thin tapestry depicting a floral border around two children holding hands. I dropped my gear by the desk and dropped myself onto the bed. Laying in stasis I still felt the cool breeze from the exterior corridor, the musty dank odor blowing over my body occasionally while I “slept”.
Once the sun went down I would be ecstatic to return to the library in the pit belly of Morte’. I hated being away from my haven, my smell, my domain. As I lay, surrounded by unfamiliarity and lacking the ability to have control over myself, I think of my inadvertent offense against Estella, speaking truthfully of Babet’s effects over me. If I couldn’t confide in Estella, who knew me and knew this wasn’t like me, who could I then?
I begin to feel a bit put off as she asked why I had been there every night, which I felt was an exaggeration, but might not have been. She wanted to know, and I am in the right frame of mind to say that from this point on honesty between Estella and I would have to become priority number one, were we to protect this…her family.
I also listlessly fantasize a breakthrough discovery in the library, putting all of this to rest. Who in history had, at any time controlled the creatures? Who still had one in existence now? Alistair, Flannaghan, but they would travel together if in fact they were still together. Madliene’s children? There were so many, I would have to search the globe for them ALL. The Queen had only provided a short list and of those on that list only two or three remain. My thoughts raced over and over and again, until her face flashed in my mind.
Babet, her black cherry hair cascading over her shoulders, curled around the outside of her breasts the way it does. Her innocent green eyes that stared into me last night, tears falling from them. The few images of her stored in my memory were flashing wickedly through me and I felt like I was going to explode the images spinning, whirling too fast to decipher.
Finally I was blessed with the kiss of dusk, my body released from its petrified state and I leapt from the antique bed, grabbed my jacket and headed out the door of the stone cell to locate Estella. I was on the other side of the haven floor when I encountered Romeo. He glanced up at me and then back down to his feet as we got closer to each other in the hall. As our strides met, I grabbed his arm, jerking him back to face me. He glanced down at my hand grasping his arm and then to face me.
“Romeo,” I said questioningly suspicious, “Where can I find Estella?”
“She’s probably getting ready for work.” And he attempted to jerk his arm from me, failing miserably. She had said she would continue to research with me in the library tonight.
I absentmindedly released his arm and he quickly stepped out of my reach before bolting down the hall shouting back to me, “Last door on the right!”
As if I wasn’t aware of the location of her chamber, he knew better.
I made my way down the hall toward Estella’s chamber door. Standing in front of the ornate carved wooden slab, representing Estella, held by large iron rivets to the stone wall debating whether to knock when I heard her muffled voice through the door.
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December 10, 2013
See Cian...dreams really do come TRUE
I thought about Estella’s comments thoroughly and with Babet’s husband missing for so long how would she have found the time to check on something like her fuse box or wiring? A single mother of two hardly has the time to brush her hair or teeth in the morning, and that stands the test of time. I recalled as a boy my sister and me being a handful for our mother. Estella kept her focus as her beautiful green eyes go cloudy, she attempts to read energy around the building again. I watched her enviously, wishing I had the ability to read time, when I turned from her to the alley between the two buildings, “How far back can you go?”
The green returned to her eyes and she stared into me, “Depends,” her words hard. “If I go back too far, I might not come back, my mind that is; I could get “stuck” in a read.” She makes finger quotes, before sighing. “At least that is what our Queen tells me.”
She turns her gaze downward at her hands that had gathered into loose fists. Her demeanor lightened and she smiled sarcastically at me as her hands released. I couldn’t help wanting to encourage Estella to try to extend her range and lately she had been tip toeing on the less obedient side of our Queen.
“Try.” One word from my lips and a sly smile from Estella, we were in business.
Estella gathered as much pertinent information as she felt relevant to report back to the Queen while she conversed with Madliene it was apparent that she was asked how she was able to obtain so much and trepidation begins to rise as I thought about how far back Estella may have gone. Estella explained that we were able to get very close due to the emergency services activity.
Though I don’t trust the Queen believed her but was grateful none the less for the knowledge. I asked to speak to the Queen; Estella hands me her cell phone.
“Majesty,I hope you are well?” I ask. “I am glad to hear it; I have a request if I may?” She was also receptive to this. “I wonder if we should reveal ourselves to Bab…the wife.” There was silence from the Queen’s side. “I realize it’s a very dangerous situation, but I feel if we don’t intervene she will succumb to unknown intentions. Her children will die.” My tone is harsh, I realize this. Still; stifling silence from her end.
“Majesty, I can understand your haste, but it is a creature of our blood that stalks her and from what Estella has gathered her mother-in-law, hasn’t been seen…” I stop, wait. “Other than her own mother, who is on a cruise for an extended period of time, Benoit’s mother was her only other family.” I said more cautiously as I looked intently at Estella. “Majesty?”
The silence is agonizing and time altering…….Finally.
Her tone extremely serious, “Cian, I can appreciate your hasty solution….” she trailed off into silence once more. And when she spoke again, third time was a charm for me being taken by surprise, two in one day no less.
Madliene instructs us to introduce ourselves to Babet, including telling her of Estella’s connection. Convince her to accompany us to a townhouse furnished by The Queen. It would be a challenge to approach Babet and her children. What do you say to a human you, as vampire, want to help?
It was imperative we interfere, for all sakes involved. I let Estella take the lead, stashing her blades out of mortal sight and followed at a safe unseen distance, for many reasons. Number one, I am unstable in direct presence with Babet, I know this. Her scent is toweringly intoxicating. Getting to close could be too consuming, for all parties involved, even the monster inside.
Number two, I am intimidating. It’s not a conceited statement, it’s who I am. Of no fault of my own I exude certain dominance. Most vampires can, at least against humans; other vampires are bit more difficult. In this situation I don’t want to be the cause of additional fear.
Number three, I am a man. Women are more susceptible to accept assistance from other women. If I were to tell Babet that I want to take her away from all this and help her get back on her feet, not to mention, I am her long lost relative, a vampire and believe that my kind are the reason for all her downtrodden circumstances how do you think she would perceive it.
I am pulled from my inner turmoil and listen to the report between the two women. Babet is visibly and emotionally hesitant, apprehensive and lastly, frightened to accept any kind of assistance from a perfect stranger, but Estella is very persuasive and the sound of her full name in Babet’s ears was an apparent alleviation. Her brilliant green eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before twisting up into a beautiful smile. She then threw her free arm around Estella’s neck and pulled her great (by how many?) aunt into a tight embrace. Once Babet released Estella I slowly made my way over to them. Inside, I am eager. A malicious disgustingly eager teenager, but it doesn’t show. Outside I am calm and the picture of endurance. Nothing could bring me down. It’s a gift.
I lock eyes with Estella and offer a sideways smile then turn my gaze to Babet, who, unlike most humans, is polite but not easily impressed. Though, I sensed something strange upon shaking her hand, the tension resonating from her body, while talking to Estella, had now disappeared. Even stranger, in me, the careless urge to rip her and fuck her, subsided momentarily in anticipation of her touch. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, free from all danger or the threat of harm.
Yes, she must be unharmed…..unhurt, uninjured, unscathed; completely safe and sound, with me. I could afford her the proper protection. She would want for nothing, her children would benefit from a lifetime of security and preservation… I am pulled from my inner self by Estella’s introductions.
“Babet, this is Cian. He too is an employee of the Queen, but he is also a dear friend.” Estella, the ever gracious host, her southern belle showing.
“Hello.” Babet’s voice sullen from tears is sultry and prurient, I am transfixed once again.
I bow my head to her and say her name out loud, “Babet.” I grasp her hand delicately, taking in her silky flesh, concealed below the alabaster sheath a map of deep blue livelihood. I release her hand but the monster is conniving, staying at bay until internally I want to grasp it back and pull her to me.
Spin her around so that she is back to my front restraining her with one arm while with the other savor the warmth of her entire body and its supple softness before tilting her head giving me passage to her throat, trailing my tongue down her neck, over her clavicle, before I sink my teeth into her delicious bosom allowing her life force to fill my gullet, tantalizing crimson flow exciting each and every taste bud and salivary gland….STOP!!!
“…we are going to take you somewhere safe and get you all things you need. You are in our care now.” Estella explains to Babet while I am far gone.
Babet nods her head sullenly wary, then looks behind and around her; stopping only to adjust her hold on her son who by now had fallen back to sleep in his mother’s warm soft arms. Her face and demeanor are of slight fret, before finally laying her eyes on her daughter who had wandered off during Babet and Estella’s dialog.
She tilts her head for the girl to come. The sulky teenager is disheveled and dressed in a pair of matching owl print pajamas. Her hair is short, red and messy from the late hour. She jumps down from a parked ambulance, removing the flame retardant blanket from around her and tossing it behind her into the vehicle. She walks slowly, glancing back at her former home for a moment and upon turning back toward her mother she catches my stare.
The green returned to her eyes and she stared into me, “Depends,” her words hard. “If I go back too far, I might not come back, my mind that is; I could get “stuck” in a read.” She makes finger quotes, before sighing. “At least that is what our Queen tells me.”
She turns her gaze downward at her hands that had gathered into loose fists. Her demeanor lightened and she smiled sarcastically at me as her hands released. I couldn’t help wanting to encourage Estella to try to extend her range and lately she had been tip toeing on the less obedient side of our Queen.
“Try.” One word from my lips and a sly smile from Estella, we were in business.
Estella gathered as much pertinent information as she felt relevant to report back to the Queen while she conversed with Madliene it was apparent that she was asked how she was able to obtain so much and trepidation begins to rise as I thought about how far back Estella may have gone. Estella explained that we were able to get very close due to the emergency services activity.
Though I don’t trust the Queen believed her but was grateful none the less for the knowledge. I asked to speak to the Queen; Estella hands me her cell phone.
“Majesty,I hope you are well?” I ask. “I am glad to hear it; I have a request if I may?” She was also receptive to this. “I wonder if we should reveal ourselves to Bab…the wife.” There was silence from the Queen’s side. “I realize it’s a very dangerous situation, but I feel if we don’t intervene she will succumb to unknown intentions. Her children will die.” My tone is harsh, I realize this. Still; stifling silence from her end.
“Majesty, I can understand your haste, but it is a creature of our blood that stalks her and from what Estella has gathered her mother-in-law, hasn’t been seen…” I stop, wait. “Other than her own mother, who is on a cruise for an extended period of time, Benoit’s mother was her only other family.” I said more cautiously as I looked intently at Estella. “Majesty?”
The silence is agonizing and time altering…….Finally.
Her tone extremely serious, “Cian, I can appreciate your hasty solution….” she trailed off into silence once more. And when she spoke again, third time was a charm for me being taken by surprise, two in one day no less.
Madliene instructs us to introduce ourselves to Babet, including telling her of Estella’s connection. Convince her to accompany us to a townhouse furnished by The Queen. It would be a challenge to approach Babet and her children. What do you say to a human you, as vampire, want to help?
It was imperative we interfere, for all sakes involved. I let Estella take the lead, stashing her blades out of mortal sight and followed at a safe unseen distance, for many reasons. Number one, I am unstable in direct presence with Babet, I know this. Her scent is toweringly intoxicating. Getting to close could be too consuming, for all parties involved, even the monster inside.
Number two, I am intimidating. It’s not a conceited statement, it’s who I am. Of no fault of my own I exude certain dominance. Most vampires can, at least against humans; other vampires are bit more difficult. In this situation I don’t want to be the cause of additional fear.
Number three, I am a man. Women are more susceptible to accept assistance from other women. If I were to tell Babet that I want to take her away from all this and help her get back on her feet, not to mention, I am her long lost relative, a vampire and believe that my kind are the reason for all her downtrodden circumstances how do you think she would perceive it.
I am pulled from my inner turmoil and listen to the report between the two women. Babet is visibly and emotionally hesitant, apprehensive and lastly, frightened to accept any kind of assistance from a perfect stranger, but Estella is very persuasive and the sound of her full name in Babet’s ears was an apparent alleviation. Her brilliant green eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before twisting up into a beautiful smile. She then threw her free arm around Estella’s neck and pulled her great (by how many?) aunt into a tight embrace. Once Babet released Estella I slowly made my way over to them. Inside, I am eager. A malicious disgustingly eager teenager, but it doesn’t show. Outside I am calm and the picture of endurance. Nothing could bring me down. It’s a gift.
I lock eyes with Estella and offer a sideways smile then turn my gaze to Babet, who, unlike most humans, is polite but not easily impressed. Though, I sensed something strange upon shaking her hand, the tension resonating from her body, while talking to Estella, had now disappeared. Even stranger, in me, the careless urge to rip her and fuck her, subsided momentarily in anticipation of her touch. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, free from all danger or the threat of harm.
Yes, she must be unharmed…..unhurt, uninjured, unscathed; completely safe and sound, with me. I could afford her the proper protection. She would want for nothing, her children would benefit from a lifetime of security and preservation… I am pulled from my inner self by Estella’s introductions.
“Babet, this is Cian. He too is an employee of the Queen, but he is also a dear friend.” Estella, the ever gracious host, her southern belle showing.
“Hello.” Babet’s voice sullen from tears is sultry and prurient, I am transfixed once again.
I bow my head to her and say her name out loud, “Babet.” I grasp her hand delicately, taking in her silky flesh, concealed below the alabaster sheath a map of deep blue livelihood. I release her hand but the monster is conniving, staying at bay until internally I want to grasp it back and pull her to me.
Spin her around so that she is back to my front restraining her with one arm while with the other savor the warmth of her entire body and its supple softness before tilting her head giving me passage to her throat, trailing my tongue down her neck, over her clavicle, before I sink my teeth into her delicious bosom allowing her life force to fill my gullet, tantalizing crimson flow exciting each and every taste bud and salivary gland….STOP!!!
“…we are going to take you somewhere safe and get you all things you need. You are in our care now.” Estella explains to Babet while I am far gone.
Babet nods her head sullenly wary, then looks behind and around her; stopping only to adjust her hold on her son who by now had fallen back to sleep in his mother’s warm soft arms. Her face and demeanor are of slight fret, before finally laying her eyes on her daughter who had wandered off during Babet and Estella’s dialog.
She tilts her head for the girl to come. The sulky teenager is disheveled and dressed in a pair of matching owl print pajamas. Her hair is short, red and messy from the late hour. She jumps down from a parked ambulance, removing the flame retardant blanket from around her and tossing it behind her into the vehicle. She walks slowly, glancing back at her former home for a moment and upon turning back toward her mother she catches my stare.
December 2, 2013
Interview with fellow author JC Emery!!!
Author of the Men with Badges series, The Birthright Series and newly released Bayonet Scars series has had an affinity for the strange and unusual from a very young age. This has prompted her to write characters with depth and presence. Each series a different genre and rich with valued heroines as well as seedy individuals.
Q: Bayonet Scars tells the story of a biker crime family. How do the characters you write play a part in your daily life, if they play a part?
A: Growing up in Northern California, I’ve seen my fair share of motorcycle clubs and have heard plenty of stories about bikers and the lifestyle. My parents are slightly more familiar with the biker lifestyle than I am, but I’m slowly catching up. The series and its characters really are a balancing act. Portraying the characters in a fashion which reads as honest to who these kinds of people are is very important to me because while it’s all totally from my imagination, I don’t want to feel like I’m doing the community a disservice.
Q: “Sons of Anarchy” is a popular television show and I’ve noticed an upswing in biker literature. Where does your affinity for bikers resonate from?
A: It’s kind of crazy how popular biker lit is becoming. I started this book in September 2012 and put it down for a while. I knew when I picked it back up that the market was starting to swell with similar(ish) books, but had no idea the market would explode. Even in the past month since Ride’s release, I’ve seen no less than five biker books debut.
“Sons of Anarchy” definitely perked my interest because I’m a total bike snob and have been fascinated by organized crime for most of my life. Because of that, the show was sort of the perfect fit for me, but I snubbed it until last October. I was really worried they weren’t going to do the community justice and that they would portray the bikers as these really silly characters and not allow the true grit of the lifestyle to play out. Harleys have always been a thing in my family. We all perk up when we hear the roar of the engine. My dad owned a few Harleys back in the day and my mom wanted her own Harley (and even went as far as to try to start her own MC).
Q: In the Birthright Series you write a character named Eliza Landry, is she based on one particular person or is she pieces of multiple people? And her sister, Kate?
A: Eliza and Kate aren’t actually based on any real people, but their relationship is. I had this idea for a vampire story and kept trying to figure out what would be the ultimate high stakes for Eliza. I borrowed from my personal fear of losing my sister (who is actually a decade my junior) to give Eliza her motivating factor. I’ve never cried so hard while writing as I did while working on Anomaly because it was so very personal for me.
Q: I adore New Orleans; the setting in The Switch, Men with Badges. Do you put a lot into the time and place of each novel?
A: Setting can certainly help shape character. In the first Men with Badges book, Marital Bitch, it’s set in Boston and it’s achingly obvious how much the setting shapes who the characters are. It may not be as obvious in The Switch, but I do take great care to represent a place and its people as authentically as possible. I lived in New Orleans for three years and there’s so much of my experiences there that shape the way I write. It’s important to me that I do a city justice because there’s nothing more disappointing when I’m reading a book that’s set in a city I know well and it’s obvious that the author has never been there, nor have they cared to do their research.
Q: I assume you have a full time job, where do you find the time to write?
What initially drew you to writing?
A: Actually, I work part-time and I’m a full-time student. A few years ago I decided to go back to school and to pursue writing full-time. I’ve always made stories up in my head and often wrote them down, but I never honestly pursued a career in writing. It was a fantasy—not something I could actually do. But with a looming lay-off and a desire to return to school and spend more time writing, I took my parents up on their request that I come home so I can finish school and pursue my passions. It was kind of scary deciding to ditch the adult world to go play kid for a while, but it was well worth it because I love my life beyond any measure I could have imagined.
Q: Your novels are well received; do you do your own promotions?
A: At first I did and I found that while I was able to get readers and make a small mark in the writing community, all of the PR stuff exhausts me. For now, I hire Inkslinger PR to do my cover reveals and blog tours. I’m considering seeking out full-time representation from a PR firm to lighten my load further.
Q: I find authors occasionally use personal memories or strife when developing a character. What is your favorite childhood memory?
A: I don’t know that I have one favorite. I was an only child until I was almost eleven, so there were lots of times when it was just me and my parents. I also spent a lot of time with my paternal grandmother. I think the things I remember the most is sitting around every Friday night and watching TGIF on ABC with my grandma. Her favorite show was “Urkel” (Family Matters). We also played “school” a lot where I was the teacher and she was the student. The poor thing never passed a single test. :p
Q: What do you like to do for fun?
A: I love to take road trips—big ones, small ones—any size, really. I also enjoy doing relocation research. I’m a total planner to the point that it drives those around me nuts. When I’m not traveling or researching, or writing, I can usually be found professing my undying love for my cats, Charlie and Lola.
Q: If it were possible, what literary character would you most like to have a conversation with and why?
A: Michael Curry from The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. He grew up in the Irish Channel in New Orleans and moved to San Francisco as a child. In the book, Michael remembers New Orleans fondly and he oftentimes talks about the differences and similarities between the cities. As a San Francisco Bay Area native who lived in New Orleans, I love talking to people who have lived in both cities. I think they’re each wonderfully magical in their own rights.
Q: Finally, if you wouldn’t mind humoring me with a Seasonal question? What do you and your family do for the holidays?
A: Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, we make the drive to Sacramento to spend the holidays with my maternal grandmother and extended family. I also try to do an after-Thanksgiving meal at home that is just the immediate family and maybe my best friend as well.
Find JC on the Internet at the following sites.
http://www.jcemery.com
http://twitter.com/jc_emery
http://www.facebook.com/jcemeryauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/jc_emery
Q: Bayonet Scars tells the story of a biker crime family. How do the characters you write play a part in your daily life, if they play a part?
A: Growing up in Northern California, I’ve seen my fair share of motorcycle clubs and have heard plenty of stories about bikers and the lifestyle. My parents are slightly more familiar with the biker lifestyle than I am, but I’m slowly catching up. The series and its characters really are a balancing act. Portraying the characters in a fashion which reads as honest to who these kinds of people are is very important to me because while it’s all totally from my imagination, I don’t want to feel like I’m doing the community a disservice.
Q: “Sons of Anarchy” is a popular television show and I’ve noticed an upswing in biker literature. Where does your affinity for bikers resonate from?
A: It’s kind of crazy how popular biker lit is becoming. I started this book in September 2012 and put it down for a while. I knew when I picked it back up that the market was starting to swell with similar(ish) books, but had no idea the market would explode. Even in the past month since Ride’s release, I’ve seen no less than five biker books debut.
“Sons of Anarchy” definitely perked my interest because I’m a total bike snob and have been fascinated by organized crime for most of my life. Because of that, the show was sort of the perfect fit for me, but I snubbed it until last October. I was really worried they weren’t going to do the community justice and that they would portray the bikers as these really silly characters and not allow the true grit of the lifestyle to play out. Harleys have always been a thing in my family. We all perk up when we hear the roar of the engine. My dad owned a few Harleys back in the day and my mom wanted her own Harley (and even went as far as to try to start her own MC).
Q: In the Birthright Series you write a character named Eliza Landry, is she based on one particular person or is she pieces of multiple people? And her sister, Kate?
A: Eliza and Kate aren’t actually based on any real people, but their relationship is. I had this idea for a vampire story and kept trying to figure out what would be the ultimate high stakes for Eliza. I borrowed from my personal fear of losing my sister (who is actually a decade my junior) to give Eliza her motivating factor. I’ve never cried so hard while writing as I did while working on Anomaly because it was so very personal for me.
Q: I adore New Orleans; the setting in The Switch, Men with Badges. Do you put a lot into the time and place of each novel?
A: Setting can certainly help shape character. In the first Men with Badges book, Marital Bitch, it’s set in Boston and it’s achingly obvious how much the setting shapes who the characters are. It may not be as obvious in The Switch, but I do take great care to represent a place and its people as authentically as possible. I lived in New Orleans for three years and there’s so much of my experiences there that shape the way I write. It’s important to me that I do a city justice because there’s nothing more disappointing when I’m reading a book that’s set in a city I know well and it’s obvious that the author has never been there, nor have they cared to do their research.
Q: I assume you have a full time job, where do you find the time to write?
What initially drew you to writing?
A: Actually, I work part-time and I’m a full-time student. A few years ago I decided to go back to school and to pursue writing full-time. I’ve always made stories up in my head and often wrote them down, but I never honestly pursued a career in writing. It was a fantasy—not something I could actually do. But with a looming lay-off and a desire to return to school and spend more time writing, I took my parents up on their request that I come home so I can finish school and pursue my passions. It was kind of scary deciding to ditch the adult world to go play kid for a while, but it was well worth it because I love my life beyond any measure I could have imagined.
Q: Your novels are well received; do you do your own promotions?
A: At first I did and I found that while I was able to get readers and make a small mark in the writing community, all of the PR stuff exhausts me. For now, I hire Inkslinger PR to do my cover reveals and blog tours. I’m considering seeking out full-time representation from a PR firm to lighten my load further.
Q: I find authors occasionally use personal memories or strife when developing a character. What is your favorite childhood memory?
A: I don’t know that I have one favorite. I was an only child until I was almost eleven, so there were lots of times when it was just me and my parents. I also spent a lot of time with my paternal grandmother. I think the things I remember the most is sitting around every Friday night and watching TGIF on ABC with my grandma. Her favorite show was “Urkel” (Family Matters). We also played “school” a lot where I was the teacher and she was the student. The poor thing never passed a single test. :p
Q: What do you like to do for fun?
A: I love to take road trips—big ones, small ones—any size, really. I also enjoy doing relocation research. I’m a total planner to the point that it drives those around me nuts. When I’m not traveling or researching, or writing, I can usually be found professing my undying love for my cats, Charlie and Lola.
Q: If it were possible, what literary character would you most like to have a conversation with and why?
A: Michael Curry from The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. He grew up in the Irish Channel in New Orleans and moved to San Francisco as a child. In the book, Michael remembers New Orleans fondly and he oftentimes talks about the differences and similarities between the cities. As a San Francisco Bay Area native who lived in New Orleans, I love talking to people who have lived in both cities. I think they’re each wonderfully magical in their own rights.
Q: Finally, if you wouldn’t mind humoring me with a Seasonal question? What do you and your family do for the holidays?
A: Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, we make the drive to Sacramento to spend the holidays with my maternal grandmother and extended family. I also try to do an after-Thanksgiving meal at home that is just the immediate family and maybe my best friend as well.
Find JC on the Internet at the following sites.
http://www.jcemery.com
http://twitter.com/jc_emery
http://www.facebook.com/jcemeryauthor
http://www.goodreads.com/jc_emery
Permission from the Queen...Proper Introductions with Babet.
I thought about Estella’s comments thoroughly and with Babet’s husband missing for so long how would she have found the time to check on something like her fuse box or wiring? A single mother of two hardly has the time to brush her hair or teeth in the morning, and that stands the test of time. I recalled as a boy my sister and me being a handful for our mother. Estella kept her focus as her beautiful green eyes go cloudy, she attempts to read energy around the building again. I watched her enviously, wishing I had the ability to read time, when I turned from her to the alley between the two buildings, “How far back can you go?”
The green returned to her eyes and she stared into me, “Depends,” her words hard. “If I go back too far, I might not come back, my mind that is; I could get “stuck” in a read.” She makes finger quotes, before sighing. “At least that is what our Queen tells me.”
She turns her gaze downward at her hands that had gathered into loose fists. Her demeanor lightened and she smiled sarcastically at me as her hands released. I couldn’t help wanting to encourage Estella to try to extend her range and lately she had been tip toeing on the less obedient side of our Queen.
“Try.” One word from my lips and a sly smile from Estella, we were in business.
Estella gathered as much pertinent information as she felt relevant to report back to the Queen while she conversed with Madliene it was apparent that she was asked how she was able to obtain so much and trepidation begins to rise as I thought about how far back Estella may have gone. Estella explained that we were able to get very close due to the emergency services activity. Though I don’t trust the Queen believed her but was grateful none the less for the knowledge. I asked to speak to the Queen; Estella hands me her cell phone.
“Majesty,I hope you are well?” I ask. “I am glad to hear it; I have a request if I may?” She was also receptive to this. “I wonder if we should reveal ourselves to Bab…the wife.” There was silence from the Queen’s side. “I realize it’s a very dangerous situation, but I feel if we don’t intervene she will succumb to unknown intentions. Her children will die.” My tone is harsh, I realize this. Still; stifling silence from her end.
“Majesty, I can understand your haste, but it is a creature of our blood that stalks her and from what Estella has gathered her mother-in-law, hasn’t been seen…” I stop, wait. “Other than her own mother, who is on a cruise for an extended period of time, Benoit’s mother was her only other family.” I said more cautiously as I looked intently at Estella. “Majesty?”
The silence is agonizing and time altering…….Finally.
Her tone extremely serious, “Cian, I can appreciate your hasty solution….” she trailed off into silence once more. And when she spoke again, third time was a charm for me being taken by surprise, two in one day no less.
Madliene instructs us to introduce ourselves to Babet, including telling her of Estella’s connection. Convince her to accompany us to a townhouse furnished by The Queen. It would be a challenge to approach Babet and her children. What do you say to a human you, as vampire, want to help?
It was imperative we interfere, for all sakes involved. I let Estella take the lead, stashing her blades out of mortal sight and followed at a safe unseen distance, for many reasons. Number one, I am unstable in direct presence with Babet, I know this. Her scent is toweringly intoxicating. Getting to close could be too consuming, for all parties involved, even the monster inside.
Number two, I am intimidating. It’s not a conceited statement, it’s who I am. Of no fault of my own I exude certain dominance. Most vampires can, at least against humans; other vampires are bit more difficult. In this situation I don’t want to be the cause of additional fear.
Number three, I am a man. Women are more susceptible to accept assistance from other women. If I were to tell Babet that I want to take her away from all this and help her get back on her feet, not to mention, I am her long lost relative, a vampire and believe that my kind are the reason for all her downtrodden circumstances how do you think she would perceive it.
I am pulled from my inner turmoil and listen to the report between the two women. Babet is visibly and emotionally hesitant, apprehensive and lastly, frightened to accept any kind of assistance from a perfect stranger, but Estella is very persuasive and the sound of her full name in Babet’s ears was an apparent alleviation. Her brilliant green eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before twisting up into a beautiful smile. She then threw her free arm around Estella’s neck and pulled her great (by how many?) aunt into a tight embrace. Once Babet released Estella I slowly made my way over to them. Inside, I am eager. A malicious disgustingly eager teenager, but it doesn’t show. Outside I am calm and the picture of endurance. Nothing could bring me down. It’s a gift.
I lock eyes with Estella and offer a sideways smile then turn my gaze to Babet, who, unlike most humans, is polite but not easily impressed. Though, I sensed something strange upon shaking her hand, the tension resonating from her body, while talking to Estella, had now disappeared. Even stranger, in me, the careless urge to rip her and fuck her, subsided momentarily in anticipation of her touch. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, free from all danger or the threat of harm.
Yes, she must be unharmed…..unhurt, uninjured, unscathed; completely safe and sound, with me. I could afford her the proper protection. She would want for nothing, her children would benefit from a lifetime of security and preservation… I am pulled from my inner self by Estella’s introductions.
“Babet, this is Cian. He too is an employee of the Queen, but he is also a dear friend.” Estella, the ever gracious host, her southern belle showing.
“Hello.” Babet’s voice sullen from tears is sultry and prurient, I am transfixed once again.
I bow my head to her and say her name out loud, “Babet.” I grasp her hand delicately, taking in her silky flesh, concealed below the alabaster sheath a map of deep blue livelihood. I release her hand but the monster is conniving, staying at bay until internally I want to grasp it back and pull her to me.
Spin her around so that she is back to my front restraining her with one arm while with the other savor the warmth of her entire body and its supple softness before tilting her head giving me passage to her throat, trailing my tongue down her neck, over her clavicle, before I sink my teeth into her delicious bosom allowing her life force to fill my gullet, tantalizing crimson flow exciting each and every taste bud and salivary gland….STOP!!!
“…we are going to take you somewhere safe and get you all things you need. You are in our care now.” Estella explains to Babet while I am far gone.
Babet nods her head sullenly wary, then looks behind and around her; stopping only to adjust her hold on her son who by now had fallen back to sleep in his mother’s warm soft arms. Her face and demeanor are of slight fret, before finally laying her eyes on her daughter who had wandered off during Babet and Estella’s dialog.
She tilts her head for the girl to come. The sulky teenager is disheveled and dressed in a pair of matching owl print pajamas. Her hair is short, red and messy from the late hour. She jumps down from a parked ambulance, removing the flame retardant blanket from around her and tossing it behind her into the vehicle. She walks slowly, glancing back at her former home for a moment and upon turning back toward her mother she catches my stare.
The green returned to her eyes and she stared into me, “Depends,” her words hard. “If I go back too far, I might not come back, my mind that is; I could get “stuck” in a read.” She makes finger quotes, before sighing. “At least that is what our Queen tells me.”
She turns her gaze downward at her hands that had gathered into loose fists. Her demeanor lightened and she smiled sarcastically at me as her hands released. I couldn’t help wanting to encourage Estella to try to extend her range and lately she had been tip toeing on the less obedient side of our Queen.
“Try.” One word from my lips and a sly smile from Estella, we were in business.
Estella gathered as much pertinent information as she felt relevant to report back to the Queen while she conversed with Madliene it was apparent that she was asked how she was able to obtain so much and trepidation begins to rise as I thought about how far back Estella may have gone. Estella explained that we were able to get very close due to the emergency services activity. Though I don’t trust the Queen believed her but was grateful none the less for the knowledge. I asked to speak to the Queen; Estella hands me her cell phone.
“Majesty,I hope you are well?” I ask. “I am glad to hear it; I have a request if I may?” She was also receptive to this. “I wonder if we should reveal ourselves to Bab…the wife.” There was silence from the Queen’s side. “I realize it’s a very dangerous situation, but I feel if we don’t intervene she will succumb to unknown intentions. Her children will die.” My tone is harsh, I realize this. Still; stifling silence from her end.
“Majesty, I can understand your haste, but it is a creature of our blood that stalks her and from what Estella has gathered her mother-in-law, hasn’t been seen…” I stop, wait. “Other than her own mother, who is on a cruise for an extended period of time, Benoit’s mother was her only other family.” I said more cautiously as I looked intently at Estella. “Majesty?”
The silence is agonizing and time altering…….Finally.
Her tone extremely serious, “Cian, I can appreciate your hasty solution….” she trailed off into silence once more. And when she spoke again, third time was a charm for me being taken by surprise, two in one day no less.
Madliene instructs us to introduce ourselves to Babet, including telling her of Estella’s connection. Convince her to accompany us to a townhouse furnished by The Queen. It would be a challenge to approach Babet and her children. What do you say to a human you, as vampire, want to help?
It was imperative we interfere, for all sakes involved. I let Estella take the lead, stashing her blades out of mortal sight and followed at a safe unseen distance, for many reasons. Number one, I am unstable in direct presence with Babet, I know this. Her scent is toweringly intoxicating. Getting to close could be too consuming, for all parties involved, even the monster inside.
Number two, I am intimidating. It’s not a conceited statement, it’s who I am. Of no fault of my own I exude certain dominance. Most vampires can, at least against humans; other vampires are bit more difficult. In this situation I don’t want to be the cause of additional fear.
Number three, I am a man. Women are more susceptible to accept assistance from other women. If I were to tell Babet that I want to take her away from all this and help her get back on her feet, not to mention, I am her long lost relative, a vampire and believe that my kind are the reason for all her downtrodden circumstances how do you think she would perceive it.
I am pulled from my inner turmoil and listen to the report between the two women. Babet is visibly and emotionally hesitant, apprehensive and lastly, frightened to accept any kind of assistance from a perfect stranger, but Estella is very persuasive and the sound of her full name in Babet’s ears was an apparent alleviation. Her brilliant green eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped before twisting up into a beautiful smile. She then threw her free arm around Estella’s neck and pulled her great (by how many?) aunt into a tight embrace. Once Babet released Estella I slowly made my way over to them. Inside, I am eager. A malicious disgustingly eager teenager, but it doesn’t show. Outside I am calm and the picture of endurance. Nothing could bring me down. It’s a gift.
I lock eyes with Estella and offer a sideways smile then turn my gaze to Babet, who, unlike most humans, is polite but not easily impressed. Though, I sensed something strange upon shaking her hand, the tension resonating from her body, while talking to Estella, had now disappeared. Even stranger, in me, the careless urge to rip her and fuck her, subsided momentarily in anticipation of her touch. I wanted to wrap her in a cocoon of safety, free from all danger or the threat of harm.
Yes, she must be unharmed…..unhurt, uninjured, unscathed; completely safe and sound, with me. I could afford her the proper protection. She would want for nothing, her children would benefit from a lifetime of security and preservation… I am pulled from my inner self by Estella’s introductions.
“Babet, this is Cian. He too is an employee of the Queen, but he is also a dear friend.” Estella, the ever gracious host, her southern belle showing.
“Hello.” Babet’s voice sullen from tears is sultry and prurient, I am transfixed once again.
I bow my head to her and say her name out loud, “Babet.” I grasp her hand delicately, taking in her silky flesh, concealed below the alabaster sheath a map of deep blue livelihood. I release her hand but the monster is conniving, staying at bay until internally I want to grasp it back and pull her to me.
Spin her around so that she is back to my front restraining her with one arm while with the other savor the warmth of her entire body and its supple softness before tilting her head giving me passage to her throat, trailing my tongue down her neck, over her clavicle, before I sink my teeth into her delicious bosom allowing her life force to fill my gullet, tantalizing crimson flow exciting each and every taste bud and salivary gland….STOP!!!
“…we are going to take you somewhere safe and get you all things you need. You are in our care now.” Estella explains to Babet while I am far gone.
Babet nods her head sullenly wary, then looks behind and around her; stopping only to adjust her hold on her son who by now had fallen back to sleep in his mother’s warm soft arms. Her face and demeanor are of slight fret, before finally laying her eyes on her daughter who had wandered off during Babet and Estella’s dialog.
She tilts her head for the girl to come. The sulky teenager is disheveled and dressed in a pair of matching owl print pajamas. Her hair is short, red and messy from the late hour. She jumps down from a parked ambulance, removing the flame retardant blanket from around her and tossing it behind her into the vehicle. She walks slowly, glancing back at her former home for a moment and upon turning back toward her mother she catches my stare.
November 25, 2013
Errands....and BIG Trouble in Jackson Square.
I leave the club; Radiohead’s “You” fading behind me as I headed toward the bayou. If I were to possibly be faced with battle tonight I needed to be sure I was fed. Hovering over the swampland toward Penelope’s the air was dense and heavy almost pushing me from my flight. The wildlife of the Mississippi seemed lucid in its symphony the closer I drew. I encountered a few pairs of glowing eyes from the alligator population but overall the swamp seemed empty tonight.
I crept up the broken stairs listening intently for any indication that Penelope was entertaining guests but the house was silent. A single lamp shone through a back window in the kitchen as I stepped inside; following the glow to where the priestess keeps my rations I surveyed my surroundings. All looked as it normally did in Penelope’s house but the last few times I had come by she wasn't here.
I opened the deep freezer to retrieve a few bags for my night’s assignment. I take enough for me and Estella, although knowing her she will refuse, but I would offer just the same. I grab four bags of blood, donated by a willing human in a clinic or hospital, packing two bags on either side of my cargo pants pockets. As I buttoned the left side pocket and prepared to leave I hear the sound of the birds that inhabit this area, their night time songs grow increasingly louder.
Waterfowl, wading birds, shorebirds and white pelicans began to call out as a tiny vessel of a boat docked at Penelope’s pier. I stepped through the door to see the tiny caramel Priestess tie up the dingy and step onto the dock; a small bag hanging from her arm.
“Madam.” I said quietly bowing as she turned to look up the twisted stairs at me.
“I thought I smelled death.” she commented, smiling.
She slowly ascended the steps rubbing my arm as she past me to enter the house once inside she turned back to face me.
“Coming or going?”
“Going. Assignment in the Quarter.”
“Get what you need?”
“And a little extra.”
“Be careful.” She called as I closed the door.
Speaking to Penelope in fragments is the easiest way. She doesn't want to know my business and I don’t want to know hers. We have an understanding that has proved sufficient for three decades. Priestess Penelope is a sevite, in Haitian Creole, or vodouist (voodooist) a practitioner of Haitian voodoo-vodou. Believing in a distant and unknowable creator or God, Bondye, vodouists direct their worship toward spirits subservient to Bondye, called Iwa as Bondye does not meddle in human affairs. Vodouists create a relationship with the Iwa through offering set upon personal alters, thee objects are to be seen as devotional. The objects are often used during the gatherings and ceremonies where the participants play ritual music and dance, on occasion spirit possession. The religion originated in the 18th century in a French slave colony of Saint Domingue when African religion was suppressed and slaves were forced to convert to Christianity.
Penelope was born into such a slave colony and even though her family was being forced to convert to the Master’s religion, they secretly taught their daughter the ways of their religion. Through practice and ritual Penelope became a revered member in her community as a full-fledged Priestess or Mambos. Said to have a direct connection to the Iwa, Penelope’s possessions during ritual became dangerous. It seemed as though the evil spirits of dead ancestors were trying to come through while the young priestess received divination from the deities.
She is also considered to be a bokor or a sorcerer that can cast spells upon command; these practitioners tend to travel on the dark side of the religion. However Penelope keeps it from consuming her which has granted her a high regard in the community.
My haven was darker than usual and I flicked the overhead lights that I fixed to illuminate the little corner of the abandoned warehouse. I heard something move in the distant shadow, I stood very still waiting for the being to emerge. I hear a series of heavy footsteps and through the darkness into the light stood Estella, her attire much different from what I left her in at the club. The only remaining articles of clothing from her club outfit were her boots, which were authentic Nazi storm-trooper issue from WWII.
Estella had traded the school girl reform for a black fitted Kevlar body suit; strapped to her back in a V above her head were two Katana swords. Her two curly pigtails were now a single bone-straight ponytail draped neatly through the V resting on her left breast. One of her delicate white hands rested on her hip and the other clutched a large duffle bag.
I didn't notice at the club but her fingernails had been painted black. She looked like a black backwards R with red hair the way she stood in the spotlight staring at me. The Queen had insisted she accompany me, sooner than later, relieving Estella from duty early.
“You like?” She said smiling as she dropped the bag reached behind her and pulled out both blades to reveal the mated black metal; jokingly taking a battle stance. I couldn't help but stop what I was doing and smile at her, but I quickly resumed my routine.
“Aye, very much”. Taking in the deadly beauty before me.
“Glad to see you came prepared, we may need it…what’s in the bag?” I trailed off, setting down the supplies I picked up from Penelope’s. I gathered my response to Estella’s question was not what she expecting. But I continued, “I picked up a few necessities myself.” I said as I passed by her to go down to my arsenal and make selections, the dirks may come in handy this evening.
When I returned to the lit area she had returned the blades to their home and returned to standing in the same position as before. I ran my hand along the backside of her hip around to grip her waist; pulling her to my side I kissed her cheek. “And you look, delicious.” I whispered, my lips grazing her earlobe.
I could feel her tighten in adoration before she said, “As far as the answer to your question about my bag. I know you aren't into the most modern weaponry, but I really dig guns. I guess it’s the southern girl in me, my daddy used to let me shoot when I was young.” She scoffed, “My mother hated it.”
I nodded to her indicating I was listening while I gathered the rest of my supplies. She became quiet for a moment and then asked, “What is your fascination with this woman?”
I wasn't expecting this and for the second time, in so many days but in a different way, a vampire had caught me by surprise. I stood silently looking down at my hands clasping the remaining daggers I hadn't yet placed on my person when glanced upward to meet her glorious green eyes. “I,” I hesitated. “I honestly don’t know, maybe it has something to do with you”. My tone harsh and clipped as the words left my mouth.
Estella sensing my frustration, sighed heavily as she bent down to grab her black duffle bag and said, “Let’s go”.
On our way further into the Quarter we discussed our position and as we strolled undetected to human eyes, the air became thick and a faint smell of smoke penetrated the spring air becoming stronger and more oppressive the closer Estella and I got.
My guts wrench when I discern where the smoke is coming from. Babet’s studio, gallery, and home; Scarlet Henri, is on fire. Without a word spoken Estella and I increase our pace and I feel like someone has run me through with a claymore. Red, Orange and Blue lights illuminating the billowing smoke as emergency crews do their duty, scrambling about. Some with hoses, others, axes.
I am frantic, leaving Estella’s side I anxiously search the mass of Black uniforms, Yellow Jackets and finally I can’t help but smile inwardly to myself, the relief is bewildering when I see EMT assessing the well-being of Babet and her children. My still beating heart pounds hard my chest at the sight of her luxuriously curly black cherry locks and tear soaked eyes, I feel sick from the jolt but gratefully, I am renewed.
Babet, beautiful, sultry, enchanting is standing on the curb of the street at the end of her alley driveway wrapped in a fire retardant blanket, peeking out beneath are kicking chubby baby legs and pale blue silk pajama pants, and bare feet. My body resonates at the sight.
Her daughter stands behind her, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Thick tears streak both their faces as they watched the thick black smoke trickle over the neighboring buildings into the atmosphere.
A petite policewoman attempts to console them, finally giving Babet her contact card. I turned to seek out Estella only to find her standing behind me taking in the sorrow of her kin. Her brow had drawn down and her jaw clenched as she focused on all the people surrounding Babet and her children. Her eyes closed and I wasn’t aware of Estella range but she seemed confident as she attempted to rewind the event prior to the fire. After a few moments she let out a silent grunt as if she’s been holding her breath and asked, “Can we get any closer?”
“Yes, my original approach didn't include her building being on fire,” I said and we moved to a position where we could stash the big black bag. Estella and I walked along the partition wall between Babet’s building conglomeration and the row behind it.
Estella stopped as I took a few more steps then I too ceased my stride waiting for her instruction when she said, “It’s still in the area”.
I jerk my attention from Estella to do a visual check, also taking a big whiff of the air for scent confirmation of the creature that attacked me; I don’t detect anything familiar and return to Estella who had ceased to speak upon my deficit.
“It’s watching. Like we are; but it didn't cause the fire, I can’t see what did. Probably faulty wiring, I mean these buildings are ancient.” Her tone cautiously sarcastic.
I crept up the broken stairs listening intently for any indication that Penelope was entertaining guests but the house was silent. A single lamp shone through a back window in the kitchen as I stepped inside; following the glow to where the priestess keeps my rations I surveyed my surroundings. All looked as it normally did in Penelope’s house but the last few times I had come by she wasn't here.
I opened the deep freezer to retrieve a few bags for my night’s assignment. I take enough for me and Estella, although knowing her she will refuse, but I would offer just the same. I grab four bags of blood, donated by a willing human in a clinic or hospital, packing two bags on either side of my cargo pants pockets. As I buttoned the left side pocket and prepared to leave I hear the sound of the birds that inhabit this area, their night time songs grow increasingly louder.
Waterfowl, wading birds, shorebirds and white pelicans began to call out as a tiny vessel of a boat docked at Penelope’s pier. I stepped through the door to see the tiny caramel Priestess tie up the dingy and step onto the dock; a small bag hanging from her arm.
“Madam.” I said quietly bowing as she turned to look up the twisted stairs at me.
“I thought I smelled death.” she commented, smiling.
She slowly ascended the steps rubbing my arm as she past me to enter the house once inside she turned back to face me.
“Coming or going?”
“Going. Assignment in the Quarter.”
“Get what you need?”
“And a little extra.”
“Be careful.” She called as I closed the door.
Speaking to Penelope in fragments is the easiest way. She doesn't want to know my business and I don’t want to know hers. We have an understanding that has proved sufficient for three decades. Priestess Penelope is a sevite, in Haitian Creole, or vodouist (voodooist) a practitioner of Haitian voodoo-vodou. Believing in a distant and unknowable creator or God, Bondye, vodouists direct their worship toward spirits subservient to Bondye, called Iwa as Bondye does not meddle in human affairs. Vodouists create a relationship with the Iwa through offering set upon personal alters, thee objects are to be seen as devotional. The objects are often used during the gatherings and ceremonies where the participants play ritual music and dance, on occasion spirit possession. The religion originated in the 18th century in a French slave colony of Saint Domingue when African religion was suppressed and slaves were forced to convert to Christianity.
Penelope was born into such a slave colony and even though her family was being forced to convert to the Master’s religion, they secretly taught their daughter the ways of their religion. Through practice and ritual Penelope became a revered member in her community as a full-fledged Priestess or Mambos. Said to have a direct connection to the Iwa, Penelope’s possessions during ritual became dangerous. It seemed as though the evil spirits of dead ancestors were trying to come through while the young priestess received divination from the deities.
She is also considered to be a bokor or a sorcerer that can cast spells upon command; these practitioners tend to travel on the dark side of the religion. However Penelope keeps it from consuming her which has granted her a high regard in the community.
My haven was darker than usual and I flicked the overhead lights that I fixed to illuminate the little corner of the abandoned warehouse. I heard something move in the distant shadow, I stood very still waiting for the being to emerge. I hear a series of heavy footsteps and through the darkness into the light stood Estella, her attire much different from what I left her in at the club. The only remaining articles of clothing from her club outfit were her boots, which were authentic Nazi storm-trooper issue from WWII.
Estella had traded the school girl reform for a black fitted Kevlar body suit; strapped to her back in a V above her head were two Katana swords. Her two curly pigtails were now a single bone-straight ponytail draped neatly through the V resting on her left breast. One of her delicate white hands rested on her hip and the other clutched a large duffle bag.
I didn't notice at the club but her fingernails had been painted black. She looked like a black backwards R with red hair the way she stood in the spotlight staring at me. The Queen had insisted she accompany me, sooner than later, relieving Estella from duty early.
“You like?” She said smiling as she dropped the bag reached behind her and pulled out both blades to reveal the mated black metal; jokingly taking a battle stance. I couldn't help but stop what I was doing and smile at her, but I quickly resumed my routine.
“Aye, very much”. Taking in the deadly beauty before me.
“Glad to see you came prepared, we may need it…what’s in the bag?” I trailed off, setting down the supplies I picked up from Penelope’s. I gathered my response to Estella’s question was not what she expecting. But I continued, “I picked up a few necessities myself.” I said as I passed by her to go down to my arsenal and make selections, the dirks may come in handy this evening.
When I returned to the lit area she had returned the blades to their home and returned to standing in the same position as before. I ran my hand along the backside of her hip around to grip her waist; pulling her to my side I kissed her cheek. “And you look, delicious.” I whispered, my lips grazing her earlobe.
I could feel her tighten in adoration before she said, “As far as the answer to your question about my bag. I know you aren't into the most modern weaponry, but I really dig guns. I guess it’s the southern girl in me, my daddy used to let me shoot when I was young.” She scoffed, “My mother hated it.”
I nodded to her indicating I was listening while I gathered the rest of my supplies. She became quiet for a moment and then asked, “What is your fascination with this woman?”
I wasn't expecting this and for the second time, in so many days but in a different way, a vampire had caught me by surprise. I stood silently looking down at my hands clasping the remaining daggers I hadn't yet placed on my person when glanced upward to meet her glorious green eyes. “I,” I hesitated. “I honestly don’t know, maybe it has something to do with you”. My tone harsh and clipped as the words left my mouth.
Estella sensing my frustration, sighed heavily as she bent down to grab her black duffle bag and said, “Let’s go”.
On our way further into the Quarter we discussed our position and as we strolled undetected to human eyes, the air became thick and a faint smell of smoke penetrated the spring air becoming stronger and more oppressive the closer Estella and I got.
My guts wrench when I discern where the smoke is coming from. Babet’s studio, gallery, and home; Scarlet Henri, is on fire. Without a word spoken Estella and I increase our pace and I feel like someone has run me through with a claymore. Red, Orange and Blue lights illuminating the billowing smoke as emergency crews do their duty, scrambling about. Some with hoses, others, axes.
I am frantic, leaving Estella’s side I anxiously search the mass of Black uniforms, Yellow Jackets and finally I can’t help but smile inwardly to myself, the relief is bewildering when I see EMT assessing the well-being of Babet and her children. My still beating heart pounds hard my chest at the sight of her luxuriously curly black cherry locks and tear soaked eyes, I feel sick from the jolt but gratefully, I am renewed.
Babet, beautiful, sultry, enchanting is standing on the curb of the street at the end of her alley driveway wrapped in a fire retardant blanket, peeking out beneath are kicking chubby baby legs and pale blue silk pajama pants, and bare feet. My body resonates at the sight.
Her daughter stands behind her, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. Thick tears streak both their faces as they watched the thick black smoke trickle over the neighboring buildings into the atmosphere.
A petite policewoman attempts to console them, finally giving Babet her contact card. I turned to seek out Estella only to find her standing behind me taking in the sorrow of her kin. Her brow had drawn down and her jaw clenched as she focused on all the people surrounding Babet and her children. Her eyes closed and I wasn’t aware of Estella range but she seemed confident as she attempted to rewind the event prior to the fire. After a few moments she let out a silent grunt as if she’s been holding her breath and asked, “Can we get any closer?”
“Yes, my original approach didn't include her building being on fire,” I said and we moved to a position where we could stash the big black bag. Estella and I walked along the partition wall between Babet’s building conglomeration and the row behind it.
Estella stopped as I took a few more steps then I too ceased my stride waiting for her instruction when she said, “It’s still in the area”.
I jerk my attention from Estella to do a visual check, also taking a big whiff of the air for scent confirmation of the creature that attacked me; I don’t detect anything familiar and return to Estella who had ceased to speak upon my deficit.
“It’s watching. Like we are; but it didn't cause the fire, I can’t see what did. Probably faulty wiring, I mean these buildings are ancient.” Her tone cautiously sarcastic.
November 22, 2013
Out of the Ordinary...Poetry from Me.
Plea
Dance and flicker at the end of your wick.
Beware of the breeze that will extinguish you quick.
My sympathies are far between and few.
Be the choices good or bad, they are the reflection of you.
Right through your little façade I see.
At this rate on your greatest day, you will never be me.
Take heed and batten down your hatches.
This all began with a box full of matches.
If you maintain this ignorant mind frame you only have yourself to blame.
As far as I’m concerned, your life lessons have yet been learned.
At this game, we all experience shame.
But don’t misconstrue and point the finger of blame.
Live, my darling. And learn.
Succeed, my child. And you will have your turn.
To speak these words above, to someone you so desperately love.
Dance and flicker at the end of your wick.
Beware of the breeze that will extinguish you quick.
My sympathies are far between and few.
Be the choices good or bad, they are the reflection of you.
Right through your little façade I see.
At this rate on your greatest day, you will never be me.
Take heed and batten down your hatches.
This all began with a box full of matches.
If you maintain this ignorant mind frame you only have yourself to blame.
As far as I’m concerned, your life lessons have yet been learned.
At this game, we all experience shame.
But don’t misconstrue and point the finger of blame.
Live, my darling. And learn.
Succeed, my child. And you will have your turn.
To speak these words above, to someone you so desperately love.
November 18, 2013
Face to Face with Her Majesty...
The secret arrival of vampires in the area had not left my list of priorities, nor the Icelandic clan’s lack of gracing the Queen with their presence. I checked out a few leads and came up short, all provided by my Queen or her minions. There was something more to all of this. Why send me to look for non-existant vampires or search out vampires who may or may not begrudge our Queen.
I decide to contact Estella for an audience; she was always straightforward with me regarding Madliene. She owed an allegiance to The Queen true enough but being held prisoner and made to work for the rest of your immortal life is a different thing entirely. I knew Estella wanted out, but wouldn’t leave without Angelique and Angelique wasn’t leaving without her sister, who was so deep with The Queen that it was ridiculous to think otherwise. Sophia was still “young”.
I had arrived through my usual means of entry, hastily locating the Queen to discuss with her, her theories regarding the dead ends I kept coming to. Through the grapevine and cohorts I employ on the rare occasion I need information, I learned few things. Flannaghan, Alistair, two of the vampires still in existence, their names on very few lips these days, but there were a few.
And the few vampires that weren’t, old world vampires that were long gone. I followed the Queen and her two human minions back to her haven to discuss these matters in a less than hostile environment. The music in Morte’ definitely drew a large crowd this evening as the masses writhed methodically about the dance floor. Tonight’s playlist must have been an angry sort as Korn’s “Dead Bodies Everywhere” thumped heavily.
Madliene glided over to the large mahogany desk ornate with old world carvings, pulled the massive chair from its cubby and carefully pushed her antique burgundy bustled gown and overlaying robe back to seat herself accordingly. I silently watched as she straightened her back and interlaced her long boney fingers littered with rings together at the edge of the desk. Her demeanor seemed jaded this evening as if I were pulling her away from something more important. She took a deep breath and stared into me with her fierce brown eyes that were growing increasingly hazel.
“You have news?” She said dryly.
“Yes Majesty there is little rumblings in the community regarding Alistair and Flannaghan...” I stopped as one of her hands flew up to silence me. She turned her eyes from me to her two minions and without a word Romeo and Damien turned and left. As soon as the door closed the Queen relaxed herself pushing the chair back to cross her legs.
“Speak freely.” And she smiled her glittering smile not many get to see. She gestured for me to have a seat; I tipped my head to her and obeyed. I began to explain my findings, her demeanor changing throughout the conversation and though I could tell she was visibly concerned or perturbed or humorous during certain parts of my brief; she offered no resolution or inclination. This gesture aggravated me and I believe it was visible to her as well.
“Begging your deepest pardon Madam and maybe I am overstepping my boundaries, but I am a warrior a fighter, an assassin. I am not a detective.” I hoped my tone was plain and not aggressive.
She sat silently and closed her eyes, taking in one deep long breath. I waited patiently for her to speak. And when she did I had no idea what was coming.
“Cian.” And she stopped as though she were re-thinking her thoughts. But she seemed to shake that feeling and continued. “You know I am old.” I bent my head to respectfully acknowledge her.
“And we have known each other for a long time.” She accentuated the word “long” and I bent my head once more.
“I come from a very primitive time and I have gained many an enemy in this immortality, some my children, some not.” She stopped short once again and her hazel eyes burst open to reveal the most prominent green barbs indicating her intense feelings. “And there are creatures like us, but not like us, have you heard talk of this?”
I relaxed further into the lavish parlor chair, “The throwbacks, rejects, primal ones…” her hand flew up once more to silence me.
“These creatures are from a time before mine, all but wiped out before I reached the century mark or so I thought.” She took a deep breath. “You know of the Benoit disappearance?” her eyes boring into me already knowing the answer to her question. I didn’t flinch but adjusted myself slightly in the chair.
It’s no secret Estella and I talk.
“I know the night that thing attacked me the Benoit man went missing. Is there a connection?” I asked her and felt this personal knowledge was enough to find her confident in me without divulging what I knew about Babet or my dangerous obsession with the wife of missing, Griffin Benoit.
“Well, he’s not missing.” She said “At least not in our opinion, his family is another subject.”
A sensation I hadn’t had in centuries began to rise in me and I couldn’t help feeling that the Queen brought me to her private chambers for more than a brief conversation. I kept the attentions on the matter currently on the table though.
“His family?” My tone exuding stupidity.
“They still consider him missing.” She said and I was immediately relieved. “After that creature left your terrible hands, alive, which by the way I was shocked and disappointed when I heard that Cian, he attacked the Benoit man and left him for dead, around Jackson Square no less. And here lies the mystery.” She said as she adjusted her skirt to cross her legs the opposite direction. “Either this creature is so primitive it has no idea what it’s doing, in which case I am very surprised it has survived this long. Or it’s being kept, over the years, by a more powerful vampire and that vampire is using the creature.”
“What about a rogue?” I asked. And the as the word slipped through my teeth, I think, “Shit, Angelique”.
She sat inquisitively her face turning stern. “Interesting, but not plausible. These things can’t survive like we can, or like others can, I know your preferences and can respect your choices. These creatures can’t lure a human in with their time-stopped beauty, they have none. They cannot sweet-talk the humans; they have to attack from the shadows, literally. I realize we live in the darkness to the majority of human kind but these creatures are all about the element of surprise. Once changed these creatures lack any humanity. Very different from us, our humanity lingers ever so slightly in the first few days after our transformation, not so with the creatures. They are vicious, cruel and extremely dangerous.”
“Primal.” I say aloud, momentarily forgetting my company.
“Primitive.” She said in a somewhat ominous tone. And we both sat silent for a moment.
“Understand Cian, I am well aware of your job description.” She said smiling again. “You have exhibited yourself time and time over the years to be a master of your craft. Some incidents I have witnessed, but as I prefer it the most I have not.” She says this with a thoughtful smirk across her pale pink lips. I knew her smile indicated jest on part of her comment. The Queen wasn’t fooling anyone; she was as bloodthirsty as the rest of us. Another short silence sat between us.
“I want to know who is keeping this creature. If there has been vampire admittance into this territory without my knowledge that will be an easy verdict, the Icelandic clan doesn’t concern me. I spoke with Linde four nights ago, we are at peace. Other scenarios,” she stopped, “Such as Alistair and Flannaghan,” she stops again, their names like poison in her mouth. “Could prove to be more difficult to execute. I have the utmost faith in you.”
I stood to leave and bowed to her Majesty. I was almost out the door when she called me back.
“Oh and Cian, the creature has been seen around the Benoit residence, somewhere in the French Quarter.” I bent my head to her and closed the door behind me.
I made my way down the haven corridor to the sounds of the club’s system; One Inch Punch’s, “Pretty Piece of Flesh”, and I fling the large carved doors open to reveal the night’s patrons. I am met with hoards of vampires bending to feed from the volunteered humans just aching to get close to the immortality of us. Little do they realize, all the gory details. Until it’s too late.
I scan the crowd for Estella who was engaged in conversation with a frequent elder. She catches my eye and I tilt my head motioning to her that I needed a word. I needed Estella to accompany me the next time I went to Babet’s. Her immortal gift would be of great assistance to me in locating the creature.
“Cian, you look more serious than usual tonight, what’s up?” She said placing her oval tray on an empty table. Her uniform for the night consisted of a tight white tank top tucked into a red, green and blue plaid school girl skirt; a mini matching tie adorned her neck and knee high combat boots. Her strawberry blonde curls tied up into pigtails on top of her head.
I scanned her head to toe admiring her outfit. I grazed the outside of her thigh, wrapped in fishnet hose, with the backside of my finger, “Nice.” I said with a smirk and she smiled back at me. I straightened up and asked her to accompany me to the French Quarter after her shift at Morte’. She seemed taken aback and before she had the chance to “shut me down” I stopped her. I smiled at the emotions circling her at the moment.
“Listen, I know what you’re thinking and the fact of the matter is I need to utilize your gift, should you be open.” I said my smile widening at her blushing.
She adjusted her stance and said, “Oh, sure, when are you trying to head over there?” her tone disappointed.
“The Queen asks that I stake out the area for a while to see what I can find out about the location of a primitive creature terrorizing New Orleans.” I admit the words seemed overdramatized.
“A primitive creature?” she asked suddenly serious. “I thought they were all gone?”
“So did Madliene, however a new development has proved otherwise and I think you might be interested in the family?” I say, but her facial expression and body language indicate she already knows.
Estella stands, her hand turned in toward her face as her thumb nail bounces between her glittering teeth as she thought. She looks up at me and assuredly says, “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you’re free.” I smile at her hoping that the gesture would come across as friendly.
“I’ll see what I can do.” And with that she grabbed the oval tray off the empty table as soon as a wary human couple sat down. She smiled a grin at them that glinted in the lights and they flinched ever so slightly. Estella headed back to the bar to relieve Sophia who seemed perturbed at my monopolizing her co-worker. I waved and she shot me a sarcastic smile, I bowed to her for her forgiveness but she rolled her eyes and continued working.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
I decide to contact Estella for an audience; she was always straightforward with me regarding Madliene. She owed an allegiance to The Queen true enough but being held prisoner and made to work for the rest of your immortal life is a different thing entirely. I knew Estella wanted out, but wouldn’t leave without Angelique and Angelique wasn’t leaving without her sister, who was so deep with The Queen that it was ridiculous to think otherwise. Sophia was still “young”.
I had arrived through my usual means of entry, hastily locating the Queen to discuss with her, her theories regarding the dead ends I kept coming to. Through the grapevine and cohorts I employ on the rare occasion I need information, I learned few things. Flannaghan, Alistair, two of the vampires still in existence, their names on very few lips these days, but there were a few.
And the few vampires that weren’t, old world vampires that were long gone. I followed the Queen and her two human minions back to her haven to discuss these matters in a less than hostile environment. The music in Morte’ definitely drew a large crowd this evening as the masses writhed methodically about the dance floor. Tonight’s playlist must have been an angry sort as Korn’s “Dead Bodies Everywhere” thumped heavily.
Madliene glided over to the large mahogany desk ornate with old world carvings, pulled the massive chair from its cubby and carefully pushed her antique burgundy bustled gown and overlaying robe back to seat herself accordingly. I silently watched as she straightened her back and interlaced her long boney fingers littered with rings together at the edge of the desk. Her demeanor seemed jaded this evening as if I were pulling her away from something more important. She took a deep breath and stared into me with her fierce brown eyes that were growing increasingly hazel.
“You have news?” She said dryly.
“Yes Majesty there is little rumblings in the community regarding Alistair and Flannaghan...” I stopped as one of her hands flew up to silence me. She turned her eyes from me to her two minions and without a word Romeo and Damien turned and left. As soon as the door closed the Queen relaxed herself pushing the chair back to cross her legs.
“Speak freely.” And she smiled her glittering smile not many get to see. She gestured for me to have a seat; I tipped my head to her and obeyed. I began to explain my findings, her demeanor changing throughout the conversation and though I could tell she was visibly concerned or perturbed or humorous during certain parts of my brief; she offered no resolution or inclination. This gesture aggravated me and I believe it was visible to her as well.
“Begging your deepest pardon Madam and maybe I am overstepping my boundaries, but I am a warrior a fighter, an assassin. I am not a detective.” I hoped my tone was plain and not aggressive.
She sat silently and closed her eyes, taking in one deep long breath. I waited patiently for her to speak. And when she did I had no idea what was coming.
“Cian.” And she stopped as though she were re-thinking her thoughts. But she seemed to shake that feeling and continued. “You know I am old.” I bent my head to respectfully acknowledge her.
“And we have known each other for a long time.” She accentuated the word “long” and I bent my head once more.
“I come from a very primitive time and I have gained many an enemy in this immortality, some my children, some not.” She stopped short once again and her hazel eyes burst open to reveal the most prominent green barbs indicating her intense feelings. “And there are creatures like us, but not like us, have you heard talk of this?”
I relaxed further into the lavish parlor chair, “The throwbacks, rejects, primal ones…” her hand flew up once more to silence me.
“These creatures are from a time before mine, all but wiped out before I reached the century mark or so I thought.” She took a deep breath. “You know of the Benoit disappearance?” her eyes boring into me already knowing the answer to her question. I didn’t flinch but adjusted myself slightly in the chair.
It’s no secret Estella and I talk.
“I know the night that thing attacked me the Benoit man went missing. Is there a connection?” I asked her and felt this personal knowledge was enough to find her confident in me without divulging what I knew about Babet or my dangerous obsession with the wife of missing, Griffin Benoit.
“Well, he’s not missing.” She said “At least not in our opinion, his family is another subject.”
A sensation I hadn’t had in centuries began to rise in me and I couldn’t help feeling that the Queen brought me to her private chambers for more than a brief conversation. I kept the attentions on the matter currently on the table though.
“His family?” My tone exuding stupidity.
“They still consider him missing.” She said and I was immediately relieved. “After that creature left your terrible hands, alive, which by the way I was shocked and disappointed when I heard that Cian, he attacked the Benoit man and left him for dead, around Jackson Square no less. And here lies the mystery.” She said as she adjusted her skirt to cross her legs the opposite direction. “Either this creature is so primitive it has no idea what it’s doing, in which case I am very surprised it has survived this long. Or it’s being kept, over the years, by a more powerful vampire and that vampire is using the creature.”
“What about a rogue?” I asked. And the as the word slipped through my teeth, I think, “Shit, Angelique”.
She sat inquisitively her face turning stern. “Interesting, but not plausible. These things can’t survive like we can, or like others can, I know your preferences and can respect your choices. These creatures can’t lure a human in with their time-stopped beauty, they have none. They cannot sweet-talk the humans; they have to attack from the shadows, literally. I realize we live in the darkness to the majority of human kind but these creatures are all about the element of surprise. Once changed these creatures lack any humanity. Very different from us, our humanity lingers ever so slightly in the first few days after our transformation, not so with the creatures. They are vicious, cruel and extremely dangerous.”
“Primal.” I say aloud, momentarily forgetting my company.
“Primitive.” She said in a somewhat ominous tone. And we both sat silent for a moment.
“Understand Cian, I am well aware of your job description.” She said smiling again. “You have exhibited yourself time and time over the years to be a master of your craft. Some incidents I have witnessed, but as I prefer it the most I have not.” She says this with a thoughtful smirk across her pale pink lips. I knew her smile indicated jest on part of her comment. The Queen wasn’t fooling anyone; she was as bloodthirsty as the rest of us. Another short silence sat between us.
“I want to know who is keeping this creature. If there has been vampire admittance into this territory without my knowledge that will be an easy verdict, the Icelandic clan doesn’t concern me. I spoke with Linde four nights ago, we are at peace. Other scenarios,” she stopped, “Such as Alistair and Flannaghan,” she stops again, their names like poison in her mouth. “Could prove to be more difficult to execute. I have the utmost faith in you.”
I stood to leave and bowed to her Majesty. I was almost out the door when she called me back.
“Oh and Cian, the creature has been seen around the Benoit residence, somewhere in the French Quarter.” I bent my head to her and closed the door behind me.
I made my way down the haven corridor to the sounds of the club’s system; One Inch Punch’s, “Pretty Piece of Flesh”, and I fling the large carved doors open to reveal the night’s patrons. I am met with hoards of vampires bending to feed from the volunteered humans just aching to get close to the immortality of us. Little do they realize, all the gory details. Until it’s too late.
I scan the crowd for Estella who was engaged in conversation with a frequent elder. She catches my eye and I tilt my head motioning to her that I needed a word. I needed Estella to accompany me the next time I went to Babet’s. Her immortal gift would be of great assistance to me in locating the creature.
“Cian, you look more serious than usual tonight, what’s up?” She said placing her oval tray on an empty table. Her uniform for the night consisted of a tight white tank top tucked into a red, green and blue plaid school girl skirt; a mini matching tie adorned her neck and knee high combat boots. Her strawberry blonde curls tied up into pigtails on top of her head.
I scanned her head to toe admiring her outfit. I grazed the outside of her thigh, wrapped in fishnet hose, with the backside of my finger, “Nice.” I said with a smirk and she smiled back at me. I straightened up and asked her to accompany me to the French Quarter after her shift at Morte’. She seemed taken aback and before she had the chance to “shut me down” I stopped her. I smiled at the emotions circling her at the moment.
“Listen, I know what you’re thinking and the fact of the matter is I need to utilize your gift, should you be open.” I said my smile widening at her blushing.
She adjusted her stance and said, “Oh, sure, when are you trying to head over there?” her tone disappointed.
“The Queen asks that I stake out the area for a while to see what I can find out about the location of a primitive creature terrorizing New Orleans.” I admit the words seemed overdramatized.
“A primitive creature?” she asked suddenly serious. “I thought they were all gone?”
“So did Madliene, however a new development has proved otherwise and I think you might be interested in the family?” I say, but her facial expression and body language indicate she already knows.
Estella stands, her hand turned in toward her face as her thumb nail bounces between her glittering teeth as she thought. She looks up at me and assuredly says, “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you’re free.” I smile at her hoping that the gesture would come across as friendly.
“I’ll see what I can do.” And with that she grabbed the oval tray off the empty table as soon as a wary human couple sat down. She smiled a grin at them that glinted in the lights and they flinched ever so slightly. Estella headed back to the bar to relieve Sophia who seemed perturbed at my monopolizing her co-worker. I waved and she shot me a sarcastic smile, I bowed to her for her forgiveness but she rolled her eyes and continued working.
http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...
http://morteseries.augustafern.com/
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