Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "lust"

I take one last look at her and her painting and I realize the entire night had been quite the illuminating and intriguing experience. I continued to observe until the last few people were leaving. I joined a group of four who were on their way out; I could smell their intoxication so I knew my presence would go unnoticed. As I got just outside the door I heard Babet turn to her mother and say, “You know; I got the strangest feeling tonight….” She trailed off, “like I was being watched.” She looked at her mother worriedly.

“Oh honey, of course you were being watched! You were public speaking.” Her mother said laughing as she was busy gathering glasses and plates off of the mantle and staircase.

“No, I mean like…stalked…watched.” She said while her mother scurried around the room disregarding her daughter’s comments.

“Babe, help me clean up, it’s late and I have to be back here in,” she stopped to look at her watch, the time had reached one a.m. “Oh, my Lord, five hours!” Her mother’s pace quickened and Babet gets right to work.

I made my way back to the city and perched inconspicuously in the Quarter observing the night life of this great place. I was immersed in the sounds of the accordion, banjo, fiddle and drums’ weaving a zydeco soundtrack to couple’s conversations.

Hand in hand amongst rowdy frat bothers and giggly sorority sisters roaming the cobblestone streets occupied by horse-drawn carriages and the raucousness trailing out into the night from the surrounding bars and restaurants; their French doors open. I left the area and wandered toward that place, hoping to get one last glimpse of her.

The light radiating from her gallery like an invitation in the night. I slowly walked down the alley toward the back side of the building to make sure she arrived home safe, she had. Her black Audi A6 sat parked at the back door. I placed my hand on the hood of her car, her arrival was recent as the hood of the car was warm and the engine clicked in cool down mode. The front of the building became dark aside from the Quarter lamps, she had gone to bed and my desire for confirmation of her physical presence was not satisfied by her car.
Peering in the window my curiosity began to plan a course for entering her dwelling without an invitation; I had officially lost my mind over this woman.

I had to leave this place and exceed my best ability to stay at a safe distance since I couldn’t stay away. I wanted more than just to envelop her, I wanted to help her, find her husband, anything to possibly warrant a meeting with her. I couldn’t understand my fascination with her until I reached my haven.

I threw up the elevator gate to find Estella sitting demurely on my box, like an ironic painting. It was two hours until dawn and Morte’s doors would be locked by then. I threw the newspaper I picked up on the way home on the pile I had intended to discard earlier.
“Estella? What are you doing in here?” I asked walking toward her, a hint of humor in my voice. The closer I got I could see she had been crying and I quickly changed my demeanor. Her cheeks were stained pink and her makeup was no longer existent. The paleness of her nature makes her look as though she were a porcelain doll. “This is no place for someone like you. You stand out like a sore thumb.” I said again jokingly, stroking her face then angling it to meet my eyes.

She smiled and I leaned in to kiss her forehead. Her eyes closed and she let out a long deep sigh. Vampires are very passionate creatures and I could feel the desire radiate off of Estella now. She was brokenhearted, vulnerable and hurt after the reminiscence of her intended. She wanted attention, and she knew that at home the attention she drew was unwarranted. But I knew it was the painful emotions of the evening fueling her desires. She was here because she knew I would eventually come back, she came here because she knows I’ve always wanted her and tonight she needed me to want her.

As I held her head in my hands, I leaned down, caressing my face against hers taking in her scent. Magnolia and lime filled me and my primitive nature took hold as did hers. She was on me before I could react wrapping her arms around me, one hand worked through my thick raven hair as the nails of her other hand dug into the flesh of my shoulder. We kiss passionately and she pulls at the handful of my hair. I let out a low growl, she sighs pleasantly and wraps her legs around my waist. I followed her lead and grabbed her to hold her there, my hands gripping the underside of her thighs and I could feel my nails digging into her flesh, she took a deep breath and pulled her face away from mine to look into my eyes, her fangs completely run out.
Her skirt worked itself up her thighs to reveal she didn’t bother with panties. I could feel myself rising, her tongue rolling against mine, I propped her on one arm while I broke the clasp on my belt and unbuttoned my slacks with my free hand. I also don’t bother with underwear. I slid myself inside her hard and deep, she gasped quickly letting the air out in a pleasing moan. I moved with her as she continued to hold herself using my hair as leverage and I didn’t disapprove. With my free hand I began to gently open her jacket when she protested.

“Rip it.” She begs lustfully.

I obliged, slamming her down on top of my box our bodies still connected, with one hand I tore the jacket open to reveal her perfectly pale breasts. Her bare neck and chest littered with the necklaces she wore for the ceremony, I grabbed the chains and pearls in my hand to pull her face to mine, I felt my teeth running out; she noticed this and tipped her head back to give me passage, I yanked her back to meet my gaze. I then released the necklaces from my hand to replace them with her hair, the strawberry locks curling around my hand; I tug her head back further and sink my teeth in. While I drank she continued to move her hips against mine until I felt her heel dig into my side. My head rose and I growled fiercely looking down at her, her blood dripping from my mouth.
She smiles before kissing me hard, licking the moisture from around my lips “My turn.”

She pushes me off of her, tripped me and in one swift motion, removed every button from my shirt.

I land hard on the floor and she stands over me, one leg on each side of me. She stared intently at me while she removed the tattered jacket, dropping it to the floor; she then reached back behind her to unzip the skirt. Ripping it the rest of the way down, the ensemble a tattered pink and gray mess gathered beside me as the skirt joined it. Estella stands over me and I observe every inch of her stunning flesh, her mound completely shorn of hair.

I turn my head leaving the vision of her perfection and begin kissing her delicately around her ankles, removing one of her shoes and her stance gave me the added leverage to work my way north moving up her calf and around her knee. I licked and she moaned; continuing my ascension between her legs until my lips found her sex and her moan deepened as my hands reached around to grip her buttocks and push my face deeper. She enjoys it and grabs my hair again to grind me against her middle. I stay there, working my tongue against her clitoris, bringing my hand up to cup her; I slide my fingers inside, moving them in and out her breathing matching the rhythmic current, and I remained buried in her until I knew she was satisfied.

Estella’s body began to convulse as she pulled my face away, her hands firmly planted in my hair. She then stuck the remaining heel in my chest to flatten me again; I lay staring up at her when she lowers herself down to have me inside her, all of me. She drops to her knees holding my arms down by my sides and bent to me. Her necklaces gather between us, her teeth completely run out; she digs into the flesh of my neck and drinks as I feet her fingernails enter my shoulders, I attempt to reach up and caress her while she feeds but she does her damndest to prevent this.

I can’t determine if she wants my struggle as it is primal for your prey to fight but I felt she is enjoying the domination so I gladly submit. She pulls away from me her breathing increases and she begins to growl softly while rocking back and forth. She falls forward again onto my chest, her curls covering my face. Suddenly the mass of strawberry blonde flies from my neck to reveal her fierce green eyes and bloody smile.

She released my arms from below her knees and I swiftly sit up enough to reach the conglomeration of necklaces, ripping them from her pale neck. She continues to smile devilishly as I reposition her on my lap and we were face to face. I stare into her, until I get the impression she is remorseful about the entire accord, she finally begins to kiss me. Estella is easy at first; increasing her fervor with each passing second.

We stay locked together for what seems like eternity; the massive room echoing with low growls, soft moans and groans along with the occasional whimper. I didn’t know how long we are entangled in each other but I begin to feel my body stiffen; besides the obvious region. I glance at the glowing from Estella’s cell phone. The vampire cell phone application, “Nearly Dawn” was giving it’s warning. With Estella still feasting on me I reached to grab the key from my busted belt, she felt my movement and looked down, her mouth stained, still dripping with blood, “What’s wrong?”
“Dawn.” I said nodding toward her cell phone.

Estella leapt off of me as if I were daylight itself and began to gather her belongings. I already had the box unlocked.

“Don’t bother,” I said holding open the lid to my box, nodding to it. “You’ll never make it.”

She smiles, drops her torn clothing, removes her remaining shoe and climbs in. I can’t help but marvel at the way she moves, smiling to myself. She keeps her eyes on me as she lies down and I, after discarding my tattered clothes, climbed in and lay beside her. I close the lid and locked us in for the day. She hugged her body against mine and taking the hint I slid my arm underneath her neck, our wounds almost all healed.

It felt so natural and familiar, I hadn’t held a woman in my arms in centuries and while Estella lay next to me I was pleasantly engulfed in her Magnolia scented hair. Here she was, right here in my arms. I kissed her forehead where the hair met her skin, telling her “goodnight”.

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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I released Babet’s hand and got to my feet anticipating Estella’s entry. I had successfully comforted Babet without baring the monster. But her scent; so captivating to me, it takes quite the restraint to keep him at bay. It radiates off of her like lamplight in the dark. I am the careless moth to her flame.

Estella stood impatiently in the doorway, she had changed from her Morte’ cat-suit to a lime green cotton sundress and tan sandals.

“Why didn’t you answer when I called?” She says her hand on her hip.

“When did you call?” I asked.

“Uh, just now?!”

“Sorry, Henri is asleep.” I reply with bad attitude.

Estella crouched and grabbed her mouth, “I’m sorry honey that will take some getting used to.” She says to Babet who forgives her aunt instantly.

“It’s okay, he sleeps like a rock. He plays hard and he sleeps hard.” Babet is still in quiet mode.

“Are you okay?” Estella says rushing to Babet’s side nearly knocking me down to get to her. Estella sits down like a stone and brushed the stray hairs off of Babet’s face. “I ask, because Cian can be a little stiff.” Estella said in jest. I smiled at the two beautiful women, taking the joke.

“No…He’s…Cian has been great.” She looked over to me and then back to Estella. I take in the chimes of her voice as she says my name, it is ecstasy. “We were just talking.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Estella, ever the gossip queen.

Estella observed our exchange of glances and instructed the young woman that it was late and asked if she had eaten and if she wanted anything. Babet is gracious and smart; she takes the hint and makes her way upstairs to check on sleeping Henri. Once Babet is out of sight, Estella swats me with the back of her hand. I look down at my arm and then to Estella. She is smiling her bright gleaming smile. For a moment I thought Estella was angry but her smile indicates that she is impressed with Babet and her demeanor.

“Pleased, I take it?”

“Of course. You can go now.” She says folding her arms under her breasts.

“I will as soon as I say good bye to Babet.” The ‘T’ I absentmindedly accentuate.

Estella turns to me at the sound, “Do I need to check her for marks Cian?” she jests but I am not amused.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” My tone is instantly angry.

“Lighten up, it was a joke.” She rolls her eyes at me.

I hear Babet descending the staircase; she is smiling when she rounds the corner to the long drawing room. Estella and I are carefully watching her until she notices and explains her happiness.
“Henri is dreaming; it must be a good one because he was giggling in his sleep.”

“Aw, so cute!” Estella should have been a mother; she clasps her hands together and looks so thoughtful at the notion of a giggling sleeping baby. If only she were always this sweet and agreeable.

“I’m off then.” I say to Estella and then glance over to Babet, “So I will see you at Audubon tomorrow night?”

Babet is silent but nods her head to agree to her whereabouts.

“Until then,” I bow my head to Babet and then turn back to Estella, “Call me if you need.”

“You, going home?”

“Aye, I’m looking forward to my own familiarity. Goodnight ladies.”

I make my way through the house and out the front door, taking one last look at the palatial Garden District home once I am through the wrought iron gate. Wish I had gotten the tour. I smirk to myself.
I reach my haven and mindlessly make it to the fifth floor. I am too engrossed in the night’s events, conversation and revelations about Babet Benoit to pay close attention to my surroundings. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth and raised as a proper southern lady until the mysterious disappearance/death of her father. Her mother painstakingly maintained their position in society, regardless of her daughter’s reluctance and suffering at the hands of her peers.
She escapes out of state after high school to avoid further social misery in her life only to return with child and boyfriend in tow. She’s an extraordinarily strong independent woman who is philanthropic and reflective, a loving mother. There is more, I know, so much more to her and I divulged more than I should. I know it is the first baby steps to a trusting relationship with Babet and hopefully in time and over time, her children; their children and their children’s children.

I vow after tonight to devote my life the remainder of my existence to this cause, to her. Finally, a worthy cause has reached me once more. Father I hope you can again be proud of me. Although as I lay in day-stasis I can’t help but think of her dreams and my visions and if the two are the same, the monster is all assuming and pretty fucking pleased with himself and a certain, almost human side of me is also pleased.

The following evening I arrive at Audubon and instantly I see Babet’s car and bright lights from the front of the townhouse. I hear music, a much harder genre of music than the previous night. I stand outside placing the song. I recognize the lead singer and deduce it to be Korn, who often use bagpipes in their songs. An aspect of their band I truly enjoy but this song particularly is unfamiliar to my ears. I approach the door, which had of course been replaced, and knock hard enough to penetrate the music. I see Babet approach the door, unlock it and pull it open to allow me entry.

“Hi.” She says as I pass her, she closes the door behind me. She’s wearing a baby blue sundress; her hair is wavy and flowing down her back, she smells exquisite. I look down and see her signature bare feet.

“You look nice; did Estella finally show you the clothes?” I ask.

“Thanks, yeah she went a little overboard and I told her so but she wouldn’t hear it. Scarlet really liked the pieces for her and Henri’s little wardrobe is uber cute.” She directs my attention to the little boy playing with cars on the living room floor who squeals in delight as the cars crash into each other.

“Wow, he’s…” I walk toward the living room as it’s the first time I have been in Henri’s presence while he is awake; truly awake. I lean against the door frame and watch him coo and cackle.
“He’s a handsome one, for sure and a spry wee bearn.” I look over at Babet who is having difficulty with my terminology.

“Spry wee bearn? Translate please.”

“Happy Little Baby.” I retort.

“Ah, that he is. A very happy boy. I’m glad he is oblivious to all of this, it’s a shame Scarlet’s not.”

“How is she?” I ask.

“Fine, she’s upstairs. She really likes her room here.”

“I’m glad; I hope to spend more time with her also. I would like to get her take on all of this. Is that wise?” Since I haven’t had much time with a teenager, not since Maggie was young; my sister the handful.

“You may ask, but, don’t expect her replies to hold any merit, she’s a teenager. At most you will get major sarcasm or nothing at all. You may have better result with Henri here.”

“He must favor his father; I don’t see much of you in there. Maybe the chin?”

“Yes, he is Grif’s boy for sure. Looks just like his daddy, especially his big blue eyes.” I look over and feel her internally cherishing the tiny boy, she then looks up at me, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.” I say my tone is sarcastically appreciative.

“Of, course, I apologize, it’s something that will take some getting used to.” I recall Estella’s exact words last night regarding sleeping baby Henri.
“Do you mind?” I turn to Babet.

“Hmm?”

“Sit with Henri?”

“Sure, be careful though, sometimes he is less than receptive to new people.” She says over the granite bar into the living room.

I slowly approach Henri, kneeling down to the floor. He immediately looks up at me then to his mother who is busy in the kitchen. He is watching me closely. I feel tension rise in the baby and must squelch it before Babet notices.
“Do you have a car?” I say sweetly to the boy.

“Ca-h!” He responds holding a blue car up for me to take. I oblige; he picks up the red car in his chubby little digits. “Red!” He says.

I look up to the bar and Babet is watching our exchange, clearly surprised by his acceptance of me. “He likes you.” She says smiling.

“I like him right back.” I roll the blue car across the floor parking it next to Henri’s red car.

“So, I went to the grocery store today, since there is obviously no food in the house, which is understandable. I’m going to cook dinner for the kids, that won’t bother you will it?”

“Not at all, in fact the smell of human food is quite pleasurable. What’s for dinner?”

She laughs, Christ I love her laugh, “Breakfast sausage, pancakes and eggs.”

“Sounds delicious.” I reply as Henri is crashing his red car into my blue car, he is quite proud of himself as he looks up at me. I smile and he smiles back. Babet goes to the bottom of the stairs and calls up to Scarlet, “How many eggs do you want!”

A muffled reply wafts down the stairs, “Two!”

I watch as Babet nods and roll her eyes at teenage insolence. She catches me and smiles, quickly returning to the kitchen. While there is a break in conversation I inquire about the music when I arrived as it ceased after I knocked on the door.

“You were listening to something when I arrived, what was it?”

“In Scarlet’s opinion they are considered old, but I believe what was on when you knocked was Korn’s “My Gift to You”, I love the bagpipes and his anger is relatable. Molly introduced me to them way back in the day. You like?” She says while moving about the kitchen preparing, mixing, and stirring.

“I did, I do. I know Korn, they play it regularly at Morte’. “Life Is Peachy” is a good album, I can relate to that one.”

She smiles, “Yeah, I love that one. What else do they play at Morte’? Sounds like my kind of place.” She feigns embarrassment, “Sounds like it used to be my kind of place.”

“I would hope to never see you there, but they play a wide range of heavy music. Do you gravitate more toward that genre?”

“No, I like all kinds of music, but in my younger days, I could relate more to the angry heavy stuff. Now I listen to it, because I truly enjoy the music instead of dwelling on what I have in common with the lyrics.”

“Lyrics can be powerful and the lyrics in heavier music are definitely more relatable to a vampire…”

Suddenly I hear the distinct sound of the same genre with an entirely younger feel coming from upstairs, I turn to look at Babet, she pauses to listen to the path for feet from the bedroom to the bathroom back to the bedroom, the door closes and the music is more difficult to hear.
“Well, I thought she might come down, but I guess not.”

“Give her time; she’s lost a lot too.”

“I know and her dad being so far away doesn’t help her, I don’t mind it but I can understand missing your father, especially at such a young age.”

“Where is he?” I ask.

“He’s in North Carolina, or last I heard that was where he was. Scarlet said his mother moved back up north, Ohio I think. It’s where they are originally from.”

“Does she talk to him often?”

“I wouldn’t know, she has her own cell and he and I don’t talk unless it’s something dire with her. Which is rare, she’s a great kid. She’s just…a teenage girl.”

“I understand.” I say but I can tell she isn’t convinced.

“Really?”

“Yes, I have…had a sister, Maggie. She was fifteen when were separated and a handful to say the least.”

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Revelations of Cian

Babet is taken aback but seemingly happy about this fraction of information she has obtained. I can’t say I don’t want to divulge more to her, but for her safety I can’t and I contemplate sharing at least my happy memories of this existence. I have plenty of good times I can recall; but more bad and some beginning positively only to end negatively. For the time being I think I will play with her in hopes of coaxing more of her laughter out.

“I had a mother and a father too, can you believe that?” Slathered in sarcasm like a pat of butter spread over the pancakes she is making. She doesn’t miss a beat.

“You did?! Shocker! Honestly I thought you burst from some demon’s head, full grown like Athena from Zeus.” She laughs at the thought and I love the sound. I close my eyes and revel in it, but I am caught once again.

“Are you okay?”

I straighten and open my eyes to her staring at me, “I’m sorry, I enjoy your laugh.”

“My laugh?” She finds this strange and an uncomfortable aura befalls her.

“Once again, innocent human laughter is not something I am used to. Maniacal Hysteria is close to what I am familiar with.”

She catches me off guard, “That’s very sad, I’m sorry.” sympathetic angel that she is.

“Meeting you is my re-understanding of a new kindness in today’s human world. I am thankful for this experience and opportunity. Thank you Babet.” The ‘T’ gets its prize and I hear it in my own voice, the charm is squeezing through. I have to rein it in; we are only on day two after all. She takes this in and keeps her defensive guard up.

“Well, what can I say, you’re welcome. Glad I could have all this befall me for you to gain a new experience…..” she stops, waiting for my retort, “…I am kidding.”

I don’t laugh because she is right, how dare I suggest that any of this is a good thing; meeting us, being under our thumbs, her husband, and her livelihood. “No….you are right. I apologize.”

She rolls her eyes, “Please, Cian. It was a joke.” She diverts her attention to the popping of the skillet on the stove, the spicy smell of breakfast sausage wafts through the house and brings out another type of creature; the teenager. I smile inwardly to myself as I hear the fast paced feet down the upstairs hall and down the stairs.

“When’s dinner?” It’s Scarlet, coaxed from her dwelling by the scent of pork sustenance. One track at a time mind, those teens.

“Hey sweetie, it’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes, you hungry?” Babet has the perfect maternal tone.

“Starving….where’s Henri?” She peeks around the door frame for her brother but sees me instead, “Oh, hi.”

“Hello.” I am careful, as the greeting I just received wasn’t the most welcome.
Babet can sense this about her daughter and comes to both our rescues, “Scar, come whisk these eggs for me.”

The girl goes and does as she’s told, occasionally peeking in my direction, wary of my closeness to her brother but I continue to play cars with the little tyke who seems perfectly at ease with me. It continues this way until Babet calls time to eat. She places the paper plates on the table with butter and syrup, she then turns and heads to grab up Henri. The little one puts a bit of a fuss, having to leave his cars and new playmate. I decide to excuse myself, giving them the family time they need.

“I am going to step out to make a call.” I announce before striding to the door.

“Are you sure, we don’t mind you being here.” Babet is most gracious, but I leave none the less.

Outside the air is crisp and smells at this time of night are of many sorts. Fresh beignets and café au lait, grilled meats and blended drinks, cigarette and cigar smoke fills the senses, each discernible from the last. I reach into my pants pocket to retrieve my cell phone and call Estella. It rings twice and when it is answered all I hear is pounding music and a faint, “Cian.”

“Go somewhere you can hear me properly please.”

“Yes, sir.” I can hear her exasperation, but she is doing as I ask, the music is slowly fading. “Okay”

“Took you long enough.” I jest, after all we are vampires.

“I hope this is not why you called, to give me shit.” She isn’t having a good night that is now clear.

“I apologize, no it isn’t. I called to ask what time you would be arriving at Audubon.”

“Yeah, I have been taken off that this week.”

“I understand your frustration then.” Poor sweet Estella, she gains a real relationship with actual family and the first week she is hindered from it.

“It is what it is.” She is beyond irritated, that phrase is a tell of Estella’s. A mantra she’s come to live by while in league with Madliene.

“I’m truly sorry E.” I rarely use this to identify Estella but it’s an endearment I have for her she doesn’t bother arguing over. I feel it shows her I have a special place for her in my cold heart.

“Just….keep her safe Cian.” Her tone strikes me as unconventional and I become suspicious of it.

“Has something happened Estella?”

“What? No! I just….look, it is what it is. I have to go back; the boys will be looking for me if I don’t.”

“I know, listen, before you go. Know that I am here for you as I always have been and I will keep your family as safe as I would keep my own.”

“I know, I trust you.” The same words Babet uttered last night; it’s beguiling, the distant relatives are more alike than we all think. “I’ll call after closing.”

“Please do.”

I hang up the phone but detect a distasteful feeling pecking at me, Estella seems off. Usually I would be fine with her mood and have confidence that she could handle herself, but the situation with Babet has caused a metamorphic ripple in Estella and my everyday routine. If I was honest with myself I would admit that I am truly grateful for the change, even if it’s temporary. I believe Estella would also welcome it, should Madliene give her the opportunity for longer than a single night. I am snapped back to the here and now by the sound of running water and the skillet hitting the sink inside.

“Hey, everything okay?” Babet is elbow deep in soapy water.

“Yes. What are you washing; there couldn’t have been dishes here?” I ask humor in my voice.

“You are correct, there were no dishes here when I arrived this afternoon, so the kids and I went out and purchased some necessities….and in the south honey,” she projects a deep southern drawl, “you must have a cast iron skillet.” She holds the heavy pan up from the water.

“Good for everything, I hear.”

“No lie, no lie.” She rinses the pan and places it face down on a laid out towel.

“You know you can have Estella call Thessaly for anything you need.” I say chastising but friendly.

She nods while rinsing her hands under the water but I can see and feel I am about to be learned once again how Babet ticks, “I appreciate that, but I have one request from you all in this situation and I am going to be as respectful as possible. I am not a prisoner, correct?” she stares into me.

“Correct, but…” I am cut off.

“Fine…I have spent nearly half my life taking care of myself and at least one other person if not two. I am capable of picking up and picking out my own necessities of life. I am being gracious enough to go along with this arrangement but I honestly could go and stay with Frankie or Molly, hell, I can go stay at my mother’s condo until she returns from Mexico. The fact of the matter is I am intrigued by you and Estella and the possibility of something other than what I have been taught, being present in this world is, at first, frightening. I’ll give you that, but it’s also bewilderingly wonderful.”

Wonderful? She thinks we are wonderful? Dazzlingly wonderful, dangerously wonderful. Wrongfully wonderful, wonderfully damned.

“Cian?”

I feel my own emotion becoming indignant, “Frightening, absolutely. Bewildering, yes but Babet, we; our kind, are in no way wonderful.”

“But…”

“No.” I turn away from her and take a deep breath which was not in my best judgment. I run a hand through my raven hair to the back of my head. Mr. Hyde peeks around his rock, I feel him creeping out. He has to remain at bay, although to show her, truly show him to her would put her in her place. To see what is after her, stare into the face of her stalker. I can’t believe I am considering such frivolity.

“Please don’t turn away from me Cian. I’ve said my piece. I just…”

My face returns to normal and I turn to face her again, I place my hands on the cold granite countertop. “You are absolutely right; you are very capable of taking care of yourself and clearly two others, in a normal world or the world you thought you inhabited. But this….thing, you alone cannot defend against. It is working meticulously to sever your ties to the human world. Your husband was the beginning, your home and studio is step two, which I am positive this thing was hoping the fire would, please excuse me, eliminate your children from the equation.” She takes a deep breath and glances over at Henri who is now watching multicolored creatures and their orange human friend dance around on television. The boy notices in his peripheral his mother is staring at him, he turns to her and she smiles. As she does a single tear rolls down her cheek which she quickly wipes away.

“Mama!” Henri points to Babet, he then flicks his eyes and his finger in my direction, “Cian!” He’s definitely observant.

Babet looks over at me and winks but I can still see the dread in her eyes, “Smart little tape recorder.”

“Tay-pe-cort-er.” Henri says before returning his attention to the television.

She crosses her arms under her breasts and hugs them to her taking a deep breath, “See.” Babet turns back to the skillet drying on the counter. She drops her arms and pulls a tub of Crisco out of a shopping bag, cracks it open and begins to grease the pan. “I don’t suppose you know what I’m doing?”

“Savoring the flavor?” I say smiling to hopefully ease her tension from the previous conversation.

“Exactly.” It works.

Once Henri is bathed Babet puts him to bed. Scarlet is holed up in her room and it’s apparent she will not be showing her face for the rest of the evening. I can see Babet’s relief that the day is over and settled. She sits down on the couch opposite me, the blue sundress billows as she does, the air hits me. I feel him, the monster has detected this. Her intoxicating scent mixed with erotic sweat, he’s there, but I fight him. She is oblivious as she bends her right leg to rest it on the couch; she places her hand on the dress so not to reveal what’s beneath it.

She is facing me and I have to break our silence, “Where did we leave off earlier?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She runs her fingers over her forehead, “Oh!” Her eyes burst open at me. “I forgot to tell you, tomorrow night is Molly’s show.”



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I don’t reveal anything, “I agree she has been through a lot. Her aunt is helping her cope; I am in town to visit her aunt. She, asked me to accompany her. It’s as simple as that.” I smile hoping to squelch this.

“Yeah, right, her aunt?” Frankie has clearly had enough champagne, “ I’ve known Babe my whole life and I don’t know this woman.” She pauses and looks deeper into my eyes, leaning to do so. “You’re not gay. Don’t think I don’t know.” She is pointing at me and shaking her head as she walks away.

Babet closes in on me, “What was that?” Her tone is humorously worried.

“Nothing.” I say smiling. “Are you ready to go?”

She sighs, “Yes, I already said good-bye to Molly and Wade. Frankie and Marcus are going to a bar after this, I told her I was leaving then. I just got…” She sighs again, “...caught up.”

She is emotionally and visibly exhausted, “Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes. And no. Braxton Mimieux was there, he grabbed me; said his dad has been trying to call me and of course when I look at my cell, I have four missed calls from his father. I feel like an idiot, here I am traipsing around New Orleans with you when I should be sitting on my cell waiting to hear from him.”

I am confused by so much, “First, who is Braxton Mimieux?”

“He’s the Fire Marshal’s son, we went to school together.”

The elevator finally arrives and we enter, she presses the button for Molly’s floor. I reach over to stop the dangling cage after it begins to move down.

“What are you doing?” She asks her eyes green and wide.

“What did he say?” We are face to face, eye to eye.

“Braxton said his dad has been trying to get up with me to give me his report on the fire at Scarlet Henri.” She is trying to read me for something.

“Did Braxton’s father happen to tell his son what the report said?” My tone seems aggravated.

She isn’t taken aback as if she has become accustomed to my mercurial nature, “Yes.” I wait patiently for her to continue but she is fidgeting with her fingers, “It wasn’t faulty wiring.” She says peeking up at me through lacquered lashes. I feel my face turn hard and so does she, “But he’s putting it in his report anyway. Insurance and all.”

“Wouldn’t he be falsifying the documentation?”

She takes a deep breath, “Thomas Mimieux and my father were best friends. They were volunteer firemen together before Tom became Marshal and my father….he is doing it to help me. My father had a big insurance policy on that building, Tom knows it will help me…” she pauses and I feel shame and regret rush through her.

“I know,” I grab her and pull her to me, she releases breathy sobs into my chest, the warm air from her mouth seeps through my shirt to my cold skin and I feel an electricity between us. I reach over and start the elevator again. The doors open on the third floor and standing in front of them is Frankie and Marcus. Who is as talkative as he was the first night I saw the small group of friends. I drop my arms around Babet and Frankie looks to us both before saying, “Uh-huh.” We exit and Marcus enters releasing Frankie’s tiny engulfed hand. She stands idle until we pass her by; she grabs Babet and kisses her cheek all the while keeping close eye on me.

“Frankie!” Marcus calls and his wife obediently enters the elevator.

The doors close and we are standing in front of Molly’s apartment. We enter and it’s much more disheveled than when we first arrived. I wait while Babet descends the staircase, returning with fast asleep Henri and groggy Scarlet. We are silent in the elevator and in the car.

We arrive back at Audubon and like a zombie Scarlet heads upstairs, her mother close behind her. Babet returns, having changed out of her party attire. The thin pair of pajama pants hang off her frame and the flimsy tank top doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination and I realize these are the clothes I met her in. Face to face, eye to eye. I detect a slight hint of smoke when she plops down on the couch beside me; the fire still resonating in the fabric.

She must be tossing her thoughts around, because she blurts out, “I will call Tom in the morning. I can meet up with him and get a copy of the report for the insurance adjuster.”

I nod, “Please don’t feel like you have to stay up and entertain me Babet. I know you’re tired.”

Her brow furrows and at the moment I can’t discern her emotions, “I want to talk about tonight.”

I try to keep the conversation lighthearted, “You’re friends are nice, I truly enjoyed meeting Molly…and Frankie.”

She scoffs and laughs, “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be read the riot act tomorrow sometime…but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I take a deep breath but she doesn’t allow me to begin, “I loved ...I love my husband and I miss him…I feel…but there is something about you, specifically, I can’t...whatever. I think of nothing all day but what’s happened and how I can pick up the pieces for me and my kids. I stress and I…I cry. Until you arrive. It all goes away.” I am utterly ecstatic at this revelation but I can feel there is more to come.

“I’m ashamed at how easily I forget the disappearance of my husband, the burning of my studio and the placement with complete yet astonishing strangers. Beautiful strangers. The dreams are too much to take sometimes but at the same time I feel…I feel like I am supposed to be here, with you.” She is chagrin but in her eyes I see something else, almost a flicker of confidence, like this is something she has wanted to say for a sometime.

I decide to divulge my deepest secret where Babet is concerned, “Aye,” I say and look deep into her, “I too feel it.”

Relief befalls her and I smile at the ease of her emotions but she is still pondering something, “You know you can stay downstairs if you want. Estella says it’s light tight even though your Queen has never stayed down there. I haven’t been down there. Honestly I’m kind of scared to go down there.” She says and laughs at her own ridiculousness.

“Would you like me to go down there with you?” I ask, teasing her.

She swats me and rolls her eyes, “No. I don’t need to go down there anyway. Thank God for the laundry facilities being upstairs. That is awesome, next house I buy I want my washer and dryer upstairs. Hmm?”

“Hmm?” I mirror her.

“I was just thinking about that, where to look for a new place. I like this townhouse and I’m sure I could find an open unit.” She laughs due to all the for sale signs in the neighborhood.

“Aye.” We both enjoy the joke and the easy turn the night has made, but I didn’t want to be rude and keep her waiting for an answer to her offer, “I appreciate your offer, my warehouse isn’t far, besides I don’t know how Estella, or the Queen for that matter would feel about me staying here during the day.”

Disappointment flows over her, “Oh, okay. Well, Estella said the Queen said it was her call, Estella said it was mine and I am offering if you are interested.” She says this very matter-of-factly.

Oh, Babet. If you only knew how truly interested I am, “I see, well…for tonight I will respectfully decline but if you will…allow me, tomorrow night?” I’m warily awaiting her reply.

“Sure. Tomorrow.” She is short with me as she rises from the couch, “You’re right, I am tired.” She turns to take the stairs, “See you tomorrow, and hey; feel free to come in from now on. You don’t need to knock.” She half smiles and I watch her until she is gone.

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The following evening I am slightly later than usual, in two thousand years I have never had the nervousness I have tonight. I stand outside the door for a brief moment before entering. Inside it is quiet and I don’t hear anything or anyone. I begin to feel like déjà vous has befallen me but I detect slight movement upstairs.

I climb the stairs as quietly as possible, at the top Babet’s room door is open, and she, Henri and Scarlet are asleep in the cannon style bed. Scarlet is covered by the duvet; Henri has made himself the middle of an “H” between his mother and sister, half under the covers; half out.

Babet is on her side uncovered, her legs draped one over the other. She is wearing an oversized blue pinstripe man’s dress shirt and white boy-shorts. I approach her in the bed and see on the side table there is a stamped out joint, the window by the bed is cracked. I roll my eyes and gently close the window. This jars her and she rolls to see me standing there.

“Hey.” She says groggily, “What time is it?”

“It’s just after dusk.” I say, my tone is chastising.

She gets to her feet and stretches, arching her back. The pinstripe shirt rises, shifting up her frame, revealing that her boy shorts had also shifted and the lower part of her alabaster rear-end peeked out beneath them.

I begin to avert my eyes when she tucked her index fingers into the seams on either side, covering the tiny bulges of delicate flesh, but I can’t look away. She seems not to care, still sleepily moving about. She slips her feet into a pair of moccasins and waves for me to follow her. After we crest the doorframe she gingerly closes the door. We are stealth down the stairs to avoid waking the children. I stop and turn halfway down the steps to face her, “You didn’t have to get up…” she cuts me off by pressing her fingers on my shoulder to force me down the stairs.

We reach the bottom and she finally speaks, “I guess hanging out with you has caught up with me.”

I don’t let her get away that easy, “You sure it wasn’t your afternoon activities?” I make a motion of smoking with my thumb and index finger.

“Hardly, it’s not that good.” She says smiling plopping her body down on the chaise. She slips off her moccasins, gathering her knees together, laying them to one side. She lays her head on the armrest and like Estella in my haven; she looks like an ironic painting.

Her hair flows over her shoulder like a black cherry river. I sit on the matching couch, not taking my eyes off her. She closes her eyes and re-adjusts them. She locks on to me, we sit this way momentarily yet it seems like longer and I honestly want it to last forever. Gaze upon her steadfast beauty for an eternity but she interrupts my desires when her lips part, “Will you make me some coffee?” She asks breaking from my gaze, rubbing her eyes and forehead.

I rise, “Of course”, and I think as I walk into the kitchen, “I would cross the Earth on ashen coals for you dear, sweet; intoxicating Babet.”

The task of coffee preparation is executed and replaced with the sounds and smell of percolation. I round the corner, “Thank you.” She says.

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry to push you down the stairs, but Scarlet has ears like a bat.”

“Understandable.” I say smiling.

She takes a deep breath, “I got Tom’s report on the fire this morning. I drove over and handed it straight to my insurance agent. They should have a check for me by the end of the week. I was thinking of looking for another space, another building.”

“Do you have an area in mind?”
“Yes.”

“Oh?”

“I want to buy your warehouse from the city.” She says, as serious as a heart attack. I laugh, but she doesn’t mirror me, “I’m serious.” Her eyes grow wide.

“I’m speechless.” I say.

“It is the perfect size, overly perfect to be honest.”

“It would cost a pretty penny.”

“Turns out I will be receiving quite a few pretty pennies from insurance. It’s unfathomable, my father was very thorough. But…that can wait,” She hops up from her seat, “I want to go down there.” She points to the door to the basement, Madliene’s space impenetrable by light. “Scarlet says she hears running water when she walks by the door and if you’re going to be down there anyway; do you mind?”

“Not at all, I’m ready when you are.”

She takes a deep breath, “Okay.” She says opening the door, recessed lights guide us down. She peeks around the frame. Instantly I hear running water. She places one bare foot on the dark stone steps to descend them. She turns back to smile at me and I am watching her closely.

“It’s all lit up down there.” She says and I think, “Of course the lights come on when the door is opened,” modernization.

I follow behind the scent of lavender and rose hips until I halt her, “Wait, let me go ahead of you.” I suggest partly as a joke, but mostly serious. Who knows what is down here, but I keep it lighthearted passing her on the narrow staircase, “There may be something down here.” My eyes widen and she is playful right along with me. Jokingly gasping and grabbing my shoulders, hiding behind me. We reach the bottom of the stairs and I am hardly shocked at the extravagance down here, but Babet is.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims before covering her mouth in humorous embarrassment. She looks at me, her bright gleaming smile, before being distracted back to the insanely decorated room.

The source of the water is staring us in the face, two stone statues, one behind the other. Two Roman soldiers, the taller statue is slitting the throat of the soldier statue in front of him and the water is pouring like blood into a rectangle Roman style mosaic reflecting pool, each corner adorned with a stone pillar. We step onto the marble tile floor, Babet exclaims again, “Ooh, that is cold.” She begins rubbing her bare legs, the long sleeves of her shirt hiding the majority of her hand, only her fingertips are visible.

She continues to look around; I am right behind her as she does so. She is drawn to the floor to ceiling murals painted on all four walls of the room; illuminated by more recessed lighting overhead. She inspects them, gliding her hand across the wall, singling out certain colors with her fingers. The wall closest to us is olive trees through the seasons; in front of it a lush giant blue chaise which matches the metallic blue tiles in the pool. The chaise is covered with multicolored pillows which have spilled over and are dangerously close to one of the four entrances to the pool. The second wall that flanks the statues is a depiction of war, Trojan to be specific; “The Taking of Briseis” is clearly distinguishable.

The third and farthest wall shows a Bacchanal scene. The art along the extra long wall leads to a domed alcove inside the room. Nestled within the alcove is a tiered platform; a grand bed sits atop the platform, ornate curtains draped over the head of the bed. Babet and I stand staring at the scene and what it leads to. She smiles sweetly but I can feel her emotions mounting to desire and it truly is too much to take. I give in, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders, slowly tracing my hands down her arms, she lets out a light whimper and it’s my undoing.

I reach her fingertips, and slowly graze each one as I nuzzle into her black cherry hair. This sends a rush through her and her skin is radiating fire as her back arcs slightly. I emit a low growl and she takes in a short breath while I run a cold hand across her stomach under the dress shirt. It’s almost as if I am on vampire auto pilot all the motions coming back to me, the seduction of a human. But I have to remember she isn’t just any human. And for right now, she is my human. I firmly grasp her to me and she gasps again, my fingers flicking each button out of its binding.

Once her shirt is open I slip it off her alabaster shoulders. She is standing back to my front and I draw my finger down the length of her spine over her tattoo. I reach the seam of her boy shorts around her waist and trace my finger inside the seam. I stop and she is stone still waiting for what is next. I turn her to face me and her green eyes are slits staring into mine, she breaks from my gaze and begins to gather the fabric of my t-shirt, pulling it up. I take it from her and remove it, throwing it on top of hers. I place a cold hand in the center of her chest, her breasts rise from the initial shock.

She glances at me before treating me like the murals on the wall. She glides her hand across my chest, pinpointing the permanent battle wounds I now harbor. I don’t speak, I just watch her as she inspects me, rounding to my back. She grazes her warm face against my cold flesh, her lips like hot silk as they form a kiss on the backside of my ribcage, where I took a decent stab from invaders. I feel my teeth run out but I have to keep them concealed and my face intact. She too runs her finger inside the seam of my jeans, returning to face me. I am still under her tutelage as she begins to unbuckle my belt, she then removes the button of my jeans from it’s binding. The zipper automatically moves down and once my jeans are open she stops, staring into me, I can’t help but part my lips. The bottoms of my K-9’s hit my bottom lip. She sees this and smiles enticingly, she begins to run her hands up my forearms and heavily tattooed biceps, drawing over the tribal emblems with her fingernail. She digs a nail into my flesh, like lightning I grab her wrist, halting her. She smiles again, clearly wanting.

I am watching her and I…It, wants to throw her half naked ass down, rip off the cotton sheath between me and her perfection. Engulf her on the domed bed and ravage her; hold her down while I fuck her and drink her blood until she is a lifeless husk beside me.

Me, the real me, wants nothing more than to worship every single inch of her, taste her in every way, feel her in every way before burying my manhood inside her. It’s almost as if she is reading me like a book, shaking my grip loose. I release her and she turns on her heel, sauntering over to the domed space. I watch her climb the two steps and then place a knee on the bed, turning to sit on the edge. She leans back; her hands firmly placed behind her making her shoulders touch her ears.

Auto-pilot, indeed; it’s like I am not me but I am watching me slowly walk over to her. She shifts and takes my waist in her hands, her thumbs hitting my hips. She lightly caresses me down there and I feel my desires mounting further. She moves her thumbs to push the denim down, they slip from my frame, and I step out of them. I am standing before her stark and aroused; she places her hands back on my naked hips. She smiles, her teeth are so pristine. She then licks her bottom lip and inserts me into her mouth slowly pressing me to the back of her throat, I call out. She continues, tickling the end with the tip of her tongue before pressing me back in, further, deeper and her rhythm is steadily increasing.
I can hear and feel a slight giggle come from her as I run my hand gently into her hair, I grasp it and she moans. The sound of her ecstasy invokes the same in me. I tug her hair when I feel the scathe of her teeth on my member, she looks up at me her mouth agape but smiling. I bend to her, hair still firmly in my hand. I tilt her head to me and engulf her mouth with mine. Our tongues swirl around each other until I feel her pull from me. I don’t let up until I am ready and when I do she is receptive. I leave her mouth and trail my tongue to her ear and down to her throat, she begins to inch back further onto the bed and I follow. We are beneath the curtain and I lift from the crawl to gaze down at her. She is watching me carefully as I hook my fingers into the seams of her boy shorts, sliding them down her leg’s delicate flesh. I don’t take my eyes off her as I drop her panties on the floor beside the bed.

I begin at her bare foot; lightly tracing her little appendages across my lips. From her baby toe to the tip of the biggest one I savor her scent. My mouth working up her ankle, to the inside of her calf; I pass her knee and truly I am possessed as I ascend her inner thigh. Her natural scent mixing with the sweetness of the erotic sweat I have provoked within her. She is moderately still as she watches me, I gaze up to see her smiling but I want to pull another sound out of her, which I do as my teeth run completely out grazing her flesh.

“Ah…, Cian.” My name is breathless off her lips.

I look up at her. My teeth very apparent, I whisper, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I hear a tiny giggle from her and in her next breath she says, “You could hurt me a little.”

I am so close to her femoral artery, its enchanting rhythm pulsating in my ear almost calling me. She runs her fingers through my raven mop and I am pulled from the reverie of diving into her inner thigh.

I look up at her and I know I don’t look like the person she came down here with, she parts her lips, “It is you.” I feel it, the relief, flushes through her and elation flows through me when she smiles and says, “Show me.”

“I won’t hurt you.” I breathe down at her, my tone is earnest.

“I know, I trust you.” She runs another hand through my hair.

I reach up and take the arm of the hand twisted in my hair, then the other. I gather them both in my clutches and thrust them above her head, slight fear rushes through her but I feel it transform to erotic thrill. I bear my teeth and dart down at her, but instead of striking and drinking I bury into her neck taking in her sensual aroma. She breathes heavily as I work my way from her neck to her clavicles, down to her heaving breasts; kissing the supple meat around her nipples which I clamp down on, rolling my tongue over them, flicking them. She calls out and I can’t help but emit a low growl.

I release her wrists, but she keeps them in place above her head. I brace my hands on either side of her body, breathing down her torso before I kiss the flesh under her navel. She tenses as I trace my tongue over her hip into her groin and I detect her erotic scent again. It’s more than I can bear and I find myself betwixt her thighs at the apex, taunting her clitoris. With each swipe of my tongue she sighs; her interior muscles contracting with my rhythm. I collapse on the bed beside her and insert my long fingers into her sweltering oasis and she grasps the pillows behind her before letting out euphoric vibrations.

Suddenly I feel her contract around my fingers and her body completely erupts but I don’t stop until she grabs my hair and pulls it. She and I are face to face, eye to eye and she leans over to kiss me, both her hands are swimming in my hair as she rolls over to straddle me. I am in my own euphoric state as I gaze up at her. I run my hand up her torso; she lifts and slides down onto my manhood. I am salivating as each inch of my girth gains entry to her pink inferno.
Up and down, slipping in and sliding out I open my eyes to see her staring down at me; an almost demonic seduction exudes her as she collapses onto my chest. I wrap my arms around her and sit up; still connected I rise and carry her to the giant chaise. She lightly kisses my neck as I do so, with one I arm I hold her to me lowering her down on the tufted material, tossing the pillows aside. I don’t exit her; I just continue the rhythm we had come accustom to. I hover over her, watching in awe as she climaxes once and then again.

I follow suit and soon we are immersed in each other, spiraling down the rabbit hole of sensuousness. I rest my head on her torso, stroking her warm skin as she swirls her fingers in my raven hair. She giggles and I abruptly raise my head to see her smiling from ear to ear, her arm draped over her eyes. Her cherry hair spills around above her and over the few pillows left on the chaise.

She is so fucking exquisite but our reverie can’t last and she takes a deep breath propping herself up on her hands, “I guess I didn’t need coffee after all, thank you.” She falls back to the chaise giggling.

“My pleasure,” I say and the sentiment is intended to suggest more than that. I get up from the lounger and hold my hand out to her. She sits up crossing her legs and taking my hand she stands. There in front of me stark, glorious and in the Romanesque setting she is The Venus De Milo incarnate. She steps down from the chaise, dipping to throw a couple of pillows back onto it.

She dips again to gather her shirt and she grabs my t-shirt along with, “Here,” she hands it to me still naked and before I take it I am still engrossed in her but I quickly snap back; holding my hand out to receive it. She smiles, I wasn’t quick enough.

I pull my jeans up and walk over to where her panties lay, mirroring her gesture, “Here,” I smile. After we are dressed we are met with the fourth wall depicting Medusa, her snaked hair flailing about as she turns some poor nave to stone.

“Medusa.” Babet says.

I turn to her, “Hmm, Madliene’s idol.” I suggest.

Babet swats me, “Cian.” She says chastising me humorously.

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“Don’t feel that way, please, and it is not as if I plant my own thoughts in your head, it doesn’t work that way Cian.

Believe me, it’s a curse I am forced to bear….” She began to trail off, when Estella chimed in.
“What do you mean, “your curse to bear”?” her tone accusing.

“When I did what I did, to you four, all that time ago….I broke the rules, so to speak.” Her tone became ominous as she seemed to drift to another place recollecting her spiritual punishment. She began to explain while in a deep trance the spirit high council convened, and upon her arrival she was forced to pay for her indiscretion. We all began to gain concerned composure as we watched her trance.

“I only want the one, please!” she shrilled, her eyes growing milky white, barely a trace of humanity behind them. She began to rise, her feet suspended above the floor, her arms stretched out as if she were being held on either side against her will, she began to flail before halting in the outstretched position, her head dropped and when she raised it again her face had become grotesquely rotted, her nose and eyes mere cavities on her face.

Her mouth lay open like a ring of spikes and demonically said, “Your punishment, Myra Elnora, is unbreakable communication with these beings. You are sentenced to eternal bondage, forever connected to your mistakes.” With the last word her head flew forward again and her body placed back to the floor beneath her.

Once the tension around us subsided from her punishing revelation her eyes began to clear and again the ice blue regained its place. She steadied her focus once more and began to explain, “You see, and that is the only time that has ever happened….” She trailed off once again, “Except….” And she retreated quickly from her table to the back of her tiny hovel, returning with a large book covered in dust. It was at least two inches thick and had a tarnished silver clasp holding the bindings. She unhooks the clasp and places the book on the table before us; we all crowd around the ancient tome.
“Here,” she says pointing to a date in the mid 1940’s halfway down the right side of the book, “I recorded this date because it’s the precise day and time I lost connection with Finn, who at the time had been in the middle of the Second World War. Prior to the cold jolt come over me, I heard muffled explosions. They grew louder as if the sound were chasing me and then nothing; I could no longer detect anything connected to him. I fear he may be dead.”

She stopped and looked into each of us, before stating what I was thinking, “There is no way he could have figured out how to break the connection, and if he had I would have known it long before, with him the connection was audible, I heard anything he said out loud.” Confused concern blanketed her deceivingly youthful face.

“So, I am confused, how are you connected to Keane and why didn’t you find him before this revelation?” Estella’s youth, once again showing her up.

“It was against everything I was supposed to stand for and I certainly couldn’t risk more retribution from the spiritual high council, I was in enough of a predicament with them as it was. But I knew he would come back to me, however long it took.” She explained beaming at Keane.

“So what was your “type” of connection with him?” Estella’s disrespect is mounting.

I hold a hand up to silence Estella turning to Myra, “What was he still doing in Germany? Finn?”

“In the beginning he chose battle in the field and the explosions at times was too much for even me to bear. The sounds of war are terribly unsettling, the screams, cries and rhythm of pure death, you know his thirst for war? He was residing in one of the many bunkers constructed along the French and German border and I suspect that is where he was prior to the jolt. Prior to that, though, he spent a vast amount of time freeing captives in the Dachau concentration camp, which he almost lost his life doing during a premeditated explosion. Those days he spoke intimately to himself, in turn to me. The casualties he encountered, speaking to himself of the horrible atrocities there. Asking himself why, how anyone could do this to their fellow man.”

Myra ignored Estella’s tone, continued her explanation, “As far as Keane, it was sexual.” She mutters it, as if embarrassed to speak the words. Keane’s mouth simply dropped before regaining his composure to voice his theory.

“So, every time I had sex with someone, you were aware?” he said leaning forward to only speak quietly to her. His head dropped forward in defeat as she confirmed his suspicions.

“Nice try Keane, fellow vampires, we can hear really well.” Estella boasted but Keane pays her no mind.

He lifted his head to meet Myra’s gaze and welling up in his eyes were light pink tears, “I’m sorry,” His voice cracking with each syllable.

“How could you know?” she said to him reassuringly, placing her hand atop his.

“Wait, so why sexual with Keane and intimate in a non-sexual way with the other two, wait, I thought you said there were four of you?” Estella still trying to wrap her head around the situation, this time her question lacked any sarcasm, she was genuinely interested.

“Yes, there were four of us,” I say to Estella before turning my attentions to Myra, “What connection do you have to Fallon?”

“Well the answer to your first question, I think Keane can explain to you at another time and the answer to your second is; Fallon is visual, I see what he sees. At the moment he is on his way into town…oh, in a very nice car and accompanied by a young blonde. She’s human, by the way.” She states matter-of-factly.

“Here? Fallon is on his way, here?” I am stunned, this all coming to a head.

“I know Cian, I am sorry, it’s a lot to take in, but know that I have always watched over you, shared your experiences, your lives….” I cut her off.

“Yes, but at what cost to you. We should have never….” She cuts me off.

“It was my choice and if I had to do it all over again, I would.” She speaks only to Keane now. He smiles at her in response. “Will you stay?”

“Of course, you can’t get rid of me now….you’re mine.” He said to her, his tone deviously seductive.

Myra smiles at Keane as if it’s the only the two of them in the room before Estella breaks the deafening silence between them; among us.

“I really hate to break this up,” she said and a loud scoff came from Myra’s direction, “but we came here with a problem, now we have more. We also need to find out when your friend Fallon will be in, the Queen will want to know of his arrival.” Estella is name-dropping for Myra’s sake.

“FUCK YOUR RIDICULOUSLY POMPOUS QUEEN! Utter her name in my dwelling again and relinquish your existence! You of all beings, Estella; know better.” Penelope chastises Estella who realizes her mistake.

“Apologies, I meant nothing by it, honestly….it’s just that….well we already have plenty of problems. Cian, please explain to her of our captive at the club.”

“Estella, were you not listening?” I say gingerly.

“He’s right and Cian, I am not familiar with it other than the ones from long ago. I understood they were wiped from existence, but clearly there has been a resurrection.” Myra is dangerously serious, “Watch it closely; it speaks which is not common with the creatures of legend. Use it to your advantage, it certainly is one. Let’s just hope the one that is out there is the only one.”

There is a silence among us until Estella brings up Fallon’s arrival, “And this friend of yours, Fallon?”

“He is just now pulling up to Cian’s front door.” Myra said to Estella before turning to meet my gaze. “Be careful of that “Queen” of yours, some of your suspicions are correct, protect yourself. You remember what I told you about her?”

I give her a nod and we all get to our feet, Estella and I head for the door as Keane takes a moment to bid farewell to Myra Elnora, “Until tonight, my sweet.” He kisses the insides of her hands prior to our departure.

“I’ll be waiting. Goodbye Estella, pleasure as always.” She gave us a friendly wave before morphing back into the ruse of Penelope.

Back aboard the small boat, Estella probed Keane, “So, spill. Why such an intimate connection to her compared to the others?”
His mood seemed solemn for Keane, the lighthearted one, “Because even after she requested our leave, I returned. You remember, Cian, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”

“I remember the twins couldn’t either.” I say to him.

“Yes, I made sure they understood she was to be mine. And she was; we spent that following night together, your sister had already been safely placed with a family close to Myra, and Cian, I am sorry for never revealing that to you. I know you worried for your sister for years, and for that I am sorry brother. I suppose as far as Myra is concerned I made my bed there.”

I waved my hand to him, disregarding the revelation, “I knew my sister would be safe with the priestess, I made her swear a blood oath to protect Maggie.” And as I the word forms on my lips, Protect, I am reminded of Babet and the lateness of the hour.

“Estella, have you any message from Babet?” I ask worriedly.

“Yeah, we’ve been texting, well prior to all the revelations and what not.” Her tone is snide and unapologetic. “I should probably check in on her.”

“When was the last one you received from her?”

We are almost to the bank when Estella checks her cell, “Last one she responded to was twenty minutes ago.” She looks up at me, I can see and feel her fear rising.

“Get to Audubon.” She turns to run but I grab her arm, “Estella, be careful.”

She nods and is gone beyond the darkness of the swamp. Keane stands idle for my next move but he is impatient, “Why do you think Myra cannot involve herself in your human debacle?”

“I don’t know, but by the time we get back there she’ll have an explanation for us.” I say tapping my index finger on my temple.

“Fine with me,” Keane is obviously eager to return to Myra and he should be, given their time apart, “…but ditch the boat, yeah?”

“Aye, Estella hasn’t mastered flight yet.”

“Shame.” He smirks at me and I back at him before we hoist ourselves into the air and back through the dark swampy abyss.

Our feet hit Penelope’s pier simultaneously. The only light available is the amber illumination of the decrepit lantern hanging on the yard hook and in the distance the door to the hut swings open. Keane looks over at me, baring a bright white sharp smile, “She knows.” He laughs at his own dark humor.

We ascend the stairs and she has already morphed back to Myra knowing Keane is still with me. We enter and close the door; I stand silently, knowing she knows what I want to ask her.

“You can still be a gentleman and ask.” She says smiling.

“Of course. Why do you hesitate to assist us with Babet?” My hands clasped in front of me like a good little boy.

“You know how I feel about your “Queen”.” Her fingers make air quotes around Queen. I nod.

“Well I don’t, I know how the Icelandic clan feels about her, and I know how I feel about her….” Keane, boy I have missed Keane.

“As have I, Cian. As have I.” Myra smiles fondly at him.

“Okay, enough of the fucking mind-meld.” His frustration is increasing as he looks from Myra to me.

“I’m sorry, Keane. Cian was thinking how much he has missed you over the years and I was mirroring the sentiment. I realize this is going to take a lot of getting used to, I apologize.” She says and of course all is forgiven in Keane’s eyes.

“I know of her methods toward the immortal and supernatural community, making them register with her when they arrive into New Orleans, it’s disgusting how she flaunts her power and there is the key. She is more than powerful she is authoritative, but she’s not just a vampire. As human she was born into an ancient family of witches, a sect of her family was attacked off a country road in France, where her maker found her teetering on the edge of mortality. I can’t speculate on why her maker chose to save her but when he did he created another kind of monster. Her family blood, the witch blood, remained in her during her transformation giving her an extra benefit. Hence her control over you all in her presence, that ability is not for your kind, it’s for mine. Not realizing this he trained her in vampire arts, combat and etiquette.
“Etiquette?” Keane asks sarcastically.

“Yes, she came from less than savory origins, if she were to survive as a vampire she would have to succumb to elocution, and she did. She did everything he said, performed every task put before her and once he deemed her training complete she turned the tables on him, revealing the craft she had been born into which now resonated more powerful than ever. She nearly killed him.” Myra is intensely searching Keane and my eyes. I feel her seeking mine specifically because I am obviously more aware of Madliene’s abilities, “Exactly Cian, you know how dangerous she truly is.”

She had yet to answer my question about Babet, “The townhouse you have her residing in is wrapped so tight with enchantments, it would be of no use Cian. I’m sorry.” I am disappointed but not surprised.

“Linde said he watched her decapitate his brother in passing after their affair turned sour, he said she laid not a finger on him.” Keane reveals to Myra as I look on.

Myra begins to laugh and it’s a joyous sound, “No one talks like you two anymore; I miss the old country.” Myra’s reminiscence of our Scottish homeland silenced us all. I thought of the day we met her and she glanced up to smile at me, but returned her gaze to Keane who couldn’t take his eyes off her. She is first to break our shared inner turmoil, “Speaking of all things Scottish, Fallon is waiting and if I have to see his flashy wrist watch once more I am going to….hmm, never mind.” She smiles and we blow her door open with our exit, I look back as it slowly closes.



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Scarlet seems wonderstruck as she cranes her head taking in the high ceilings of the warehouse but she gains composure and enters the elevator with me and Estella. My haven is still illuminated and stands as I left it. I hold the gate up for us to pass through, dropping the duffle bags by it. I release the gate and fasten the latch. Scarlet is walking around my haven the same way her mother did less than two weeks ago, politely smiling at the old tattered antique couch.

I allow her to take her time before giving her the “penny” tour. She is still holding Henri as I show her the sink and shower, should she need water. I ask her respectively to stay away from the windows and to keep the lights on should Officer Dumas return. I explain the television and advise her of my box. She is less than excited about the possibility of having to hide in my resting place, but I can see her realization that the entirety of this is for her and Henri’s protection. Estella stands idle watching my interaction with the teenager and I feel a slight swell of pride come from her. I cut my eyes in her direction and smile as I explain things to Scarlet, who is taking it all in. All the while I am internally devising my plan to “handle” our most gracious “Queen”. Multitasking is a bitch sometimes.

“Can I ask you something?” Scarlet says hoisting Henri further up her tiny body.

I bend so that she is looking down at me, “Of course.” Estella is intrigued by this, Scarlet has been as vocal with her over the last two weeks about as much as she has with me, which isn’t much.

“The night our house burned down and you took us to the townhouse, why did you say I unsettled you?”

“Christ, your mother was right; you do have ears like a bat.” She smiles at this. For the moment I am at a loss for words, Estella is expectant and pleasantly surprised. “I said what I said that night because I didn’t know then, what I know now.”

“Which is what?”

“That you and your mother and brother are very special. I feel a kinship to the three of you, a feeling I haven’t felt in….” I am cut off by the sound of Keane’s voice.

“Almost two thousand years.” He says cresting the window sill that had been left open from Fallon’s entry. Keane’s boots hit the floor with persistence.

He has changed from his suit to something more suitable for battle. His olive green cargo pants are tucked into his black steel toed boots and his long sword is secured across his back, the strap crossing his massive chest causing his black t-shirt to appear fitted. Inside I smile; this is how I remember my brother, not the suit wearing vamp I met.

Scarlet is slightly startled and grips her brother a little tighter.

“It’s okay, Scarlet this is Keane. He’s an old friend; he’s here to help us get your mom back, okay?” I see her relax her grip on Henri, who coos softly.

“Aye, we’re going to find your mom lass.” Keane says to Scarlet, but he seems to linger in her face.

“Keane, what is it?” I ask, looking at Scarlet.

“She looks like…Cian, don’t you see it? She looks like Maggie, brother.” His astonishment is overwhelming.

I close in on Scarlet who is somewhat embarrassed by all the attention and of course I never saw it before, she was always secluded or I was completely vexed by her mother but as I look on, she is almost the spitting image of my younger sister.

This is a strange revelation but I can’t be too bewildered I relinquished the privilege to know anything about my sister beyond the day I became what I am. I begin to wish I had spent more time with Scarlet. Is it possible that over the centuries my sister’s bloodline trickled into Louisiana and for that matter into Babet’s?

Of course in this world, our world; possibilities are unlimited, unhindered and endless. Just as the possibility that Madliene is behind this bull-shit. I am pulled from my inner thought and refocus on the many tasks at hand. It’s not a long walk from my warehouse to Morte’, we secure the building and precious cargo inside. I am vehemently worried for the children but I have to keep my mind on Madliene and the how and why of this deranged insanity.

For now I have the how what was left was to figure out the why. Motivation can be a dangerous thing but what motive would Madliene have for taking Babet, especially knowing the human woman’s connection to Estella, her once pride and joy. But for Madliene’s children, each one has experienced being her world, her utmost priority and so many have fallen from the proverbial grace of their mother.

For the moment it is Sophia, a dangerous and calculating fighter. I should know I trained the young vampire. And then there is Angelique, Sophia’s older sister and only link to her human life, who has been rogue for the past six months. If Angelique were here we may have an advantage to disarm Sophia but that is not a blessing we possess at the moment. Then we come to Xavier.

Created the same night as Sophia but unlike Sophia was forced to endure a human upbringing of violence and hatred prior to, he begged to be one of us for years, always being denied by Madliene. The animosity against our “Queen” is vast and the majority of it resided in her own home.

We are nearly to the door of the outer corridor when Keane reminds me where he’s been for fifty years, “I called Linde while I took care of Shi. His brother, he has always wanted revenge.” Keane’s mood is hard but ready. “I’ll wait here for him. Besides, even though we are ambushing her, it’s probably best you two go in ahead so it doesn’t seem that way.” Oh Keane. How I have missed my brother’s cunning tones.

I can’t help but smile to myself.
“Aye.” I say and Estella reaches for the door.

We crest the threshold and Morte’ is eerily quiet and clean of all human remains, alive or dead. There is no music throbbing the walls, nor light sequences to mystify and enchant. With the houselights up Morte’ was simply what it is, an old run down warehouse that’s been renovated. Estella looks to me as if she is attempting to gain confidence, I don’t show it, but at this moment I feel inept.

It matters not, she takes a deep breath and before we lurch forward we hear the clicking of heels above us in the balcony, her familiar yet disturbing voice rings in my ears like cannon fire, “Cian, Estella; it’s about time.” Madliene says her hands tracing the railing in front of her.

I can’t hold my tongue, “Enough fool’s errands Madliene, where is she?!” Estella whips her head in my direction, disappointed sympathy crossing her face. But I keep my eyes on Madliene.

Who doesn’t turn her gaze from mine either, “Who? Your little playmate?”
She laughs maniacally. “You know, Cian I send you in the right direction. I have her husband eliminated and burn her dwellings. Knowing what I know about her connection to Estella I place you both in her path, offer my own home to stash her and take Estella off protection duty in my greatest hopes you would lose control and kill the little bitch. But, no. You exhibit some insane control not to, even though I remove my enchantments from you and block Estella’s gifts. You even fucked her and showed her your monster, did you not?”

She stops hoping Estella will lash out at me, but she doesn’t. I can feel Estella mounting, but not in my direction. It’s all for Madliene, who has absentmindedly fucked herself with Estella.

Just then I feel another emotion enter the club, Keane and Linde have entered. Linde is projecting some serious animosity and Keane; I can feel is excited about the possibility of battle. Madliene straightens up and her eyes burn bright hazel, “Linde! How nice to see you, I suspect you are here to avenge your brother?”

She begins to head for the staircase but Linde’s Icelandic tone halts her, “Stay where you are she-devil. When we are ready to end you, you may join us, until then…” But she cuts him off with her demonic laughter, it’s a sickening sound.

“Fine, fine. As you wish.” She smiles
waving her hand around the air above her head and behind her; three of her former, fallen children appear behind her. Adewale; a hulking African man once Madliene’s lover and right hand, he was cast aside when his affections deterred from Madliene to Charra, who is also present behind Madliene. Charra is of Spanish decent, resembling Angelique and Sophia, with her long black curly hair and olive complexion. The two of them escaping the Queen’s grasp with little Dat, who is barely visible to us over the tall balcony. A Vietnamese boy Madliene changed during her travels through the tropical climate country; Dat had also grown tired of Madliene…eventually they all do.

Estella is more familiar with the three than I am and it seems as if she wants to call out to them, to hopefully squelch this, but as we all look further it’s obvious that the trio is under Madliene’s complete control. We are waiting for the catalyst, but hear another familiar voice enter the club.

“Aw, I’m late. What did I miss?” Fallon has entered still in his suit and I thankfully see his Morningstar unsheathed from its cylindrical container. Keane slaps Fallon on the back, elated to see him.

“And this must be Fallon.” Madliene says smiling at our chestnut haired brother who bows arrogantly, typical Fallon, but he is quickly straightens when Madliene speaks on, “So all that is missing is Finn, yes?”

Our faces all drop and I feel intense hate welling in Fallon but he keeps his composure for now. Her attempt to coax a reaction out of Fallon isn’t working and I can feel her calculating something else.

“This is a lovely gathering I must say and I am honored that so many of you have arrived to do what you think you can do. Cian, I think, it would be interesting to discuss why you feel a connection to sweet innocent Babet and then...” she rolls her eyes, “…you can have your say, and so on and so forth.” She is overly self-assured and stands very still, her face becoming increasingly more and more agitated; she clears her mind to address us all. Before she does, she wants entertainment.

She beckons Adewale who falls from the balcony railing, but before his feet hit the floor Fallon is a blur and unfortunately for the giant African, meets Fallon’s Morningstar. Adewale’s head is replaced by the handle of Fallon’s club, the spiked ball firmly implanted into his chocolate shoulders. This of course sparks a reaction in Charra who is shrieking like a banshee as she flies from the balcony circling us overhead. Fallon places his boot on Adewale’s back and we all hear a sucking pulling sound as he removes the Morningstar from Adewale’s body.
Fallon’s stance takes that of a baseball player, practice swinging before steadying himself for Charra’s attack.

Linde, however beats him to the punch, javelining a spear into the Spanish beauty before disappearing. Charra’s body falls and I hear a child sobbing from high above. Dat is mourning his adopted mother, but he doesn’t react. He remains sobbing and this infuriates Madliene who rolls her eyes.

Estella sees this, expecting her to hurt the boy, and begins to position to a crouch but straightens, still keeping her feet stance for attack, Madliene begins to spin her web again, “Why do you believe you are compelled to Babet’s side Cian?”

Linde, along with Keane, who had been in the middle with me and Estella, was now unseen throughout the club.

I turn to see Romeo and Damien almost hyperventilating along the East wall, Estella looks confused until Keane and Linde flank us, “We released it.” Keane says smiling. They had released the creature from the bowels of the club and the human boys were having difficulty avoiding death, I assume. Only Sophia remained Madliene’s last advantage. Dat was useless to her; she had left him an orphan once again.

From the corner of my eye I see Sophia enter with Xavier, her face observing like a stand by pawn in a chess game. But his is filled with rage and I wonder why it seems as though he is on our side.
“Sophia my darling.” Madliene’s voice is dripping with disgusting sweetness. Sophia places herself beside Madliene, while Xavier stands idle, but the “Queen” is not ready to use the girl yet and given my relationship with Sophia I am not ready to end her. In an attempt to possibly slow me down, Madliene in her desperation compels Romeo and Damien to pointlessly attack me and Estella. I snatch the boys by their throats. We had yet to see the creature emerge. And I wonder again, what Xavier’s stance is.



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I looked over my shoulder to find Estella’s face had hardened to stone, her eyes bearing into mine. I return to face Madliene, “I will kill them.” I say holding her gaze before my mind was taken by a flash of blood and tears, a pleading emotion coming from the intense image. I couldn’t escape the captivating and familiar face of a young pregnant woman being pulled into a hospital on a blood soaked gurney. I was then hit with the familiar smell of her blood, which became more than I could bear.

What followed was one of the most horrifying images I have ever been forced to endure. I was brought to my knees, but kept my grip on Romeo and Damien, and as there aren’t many times a vampire can cry, I felt the warmth flow from my cold eyes. In that moment the revelation of who this woman was, tore what little sliver of a heart I had left, or rebuilt since meeting Babet, out.

I was face to face with a young Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard, her trembling hand gripping the sticky gurney sheet, her words I cannot hear, but her emotion and fear I harbor pleading for my help. Why I was in the hospital that night, the purpose so lost and unclear to me. The next flash was the final blow, which made me call out for the Queen to stop her mind control.

“No more!” I yelled and I hear the sound of Romeo and Damien’s bodies hitting the floor followed by their combined gasps for life in their lungs. The two humans scurry away to the best of their ability. I rise to face her, Madliene sturdy as a mountain fails to budge. “Why?” I pleaded of her.

“Why indeed Cian,” she clasped her hands together in front of her, launching from the balcony, landing with a thud and began to circle me like the bloodthirsty shark she is. “Why were you there? Why were you so eager to heal a young, pregnant, Mrs. Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard? And most importantly, who would suggest such a terrible thing?”

Her overblown arrogance disgusted me and I could see Estella felt the same. I could feel the intimidation pouring from Madliene, but this time it wouldn’t work.

As I turned to face Madliene I was again, inundated with the vision of Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s face buried into my pulsing forearm. I feel my knees weaken yet again as my body felt heavier than it ever had. It had all come together in that moment, in Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard’s pleading eyes staring into mine and as her lips pushed harder into my arm’s cold flesh.

Those big pleading eyes began to roll into the back of her head before she released me from her grasp and fell back onto the gurney. Madliene’s voice broke through the image like a spear through the mist, “You see Cian, no matter what you do to protect her, she will eventually be one of us.” The tone of her voice went from accusing to humorous as she spoke her final words, “And you, dearest Cian have only yourself to blame.”

I hung my head, not comprehending what I had done, why I had done it, or even, why, I was there. My mind was spinning when I heard the heavily cockney voice of a tall Englishman and a face I have only seen in pictures, enter the club. I turn to see him stroll into Morte’ like the devil come courting. An arrogance about him, without question or fear of what he was interrupting and as I turned from the voice of the Englishman I noticed that the arrogance and intimidation of our Queen was diminished as if he were pulling her emotions from her.

“Not entirely yourself to blame. Cian, is it?” he said as he glided over to shake my hand, “Alistair, is my name. Though I don’t need to introduce myself to you do I, Queen Madliene?” The volume of his voice became quiet as he turned to her, taking her delicately deadly hand in his, kissing it gently, and smiling as he met her gaze. Our Queen was speechless, fear had taken over her aura and she seemed to be almost shrinking inside, our powerfully fearless mistress was becoming what resembled a shattered and naive child as if she had been caught by her father in her mother’s lingerie. We could all feel it emoting from her being.

I turn to see Estella’s stance soften, her hands relaxing from their claw like shape. Her face almost relieved to cast her eyes upon Alistair and Angelique who appeared at his side. For the first time tonight Madliene looked worried.

Through the haven doors Xavier and Keane walking almost hand in hand their bodies so close as they approached the situation, a small smirk cross Keane’s face as he and Xavier parted to reveal Babet.

Alive, unharmed on her own feet smiling when she saw and crossed the floor to me, though the closer she got to me I could smell blood on her. I took her in my arms and held her there, taking in all her senses taking me in. Her grasp on my waist as her head rested perfectly in my chest was more relief than I have ever felt from a human, even from my sister when we escaped with our lives hundreds of years ago.

I felt Babet take a deep breath as she burrowed herself deeper and deeper into me, I put my face against her glorious cherry hair and stole my own moment with the scent of her. Eventually, it was obvious that we weren't alone and the entire room was witnessing this personal experience between us, but neither of us cared, just content with the knowledge that the other was safe. For now.

I pull her from me to examine her stained dark blue shirt, “Whose blood is this?” I say to her and only her. She doesn't answer me, just shaking her head and closing her eyes before burying back into my chest.

Alistair was here no doubt to exact some sort of revenge on Madliene and considering the reaction of the proper sides, I was confident that in her absence Angelique had been successful in her mission to find some sort of origin on the soon to be dowager Queen. Even though Alistair had been able to hold Madliene, she wouldn't go down, so to speak without a fight. My thoughts were interrupted by their prolonged completion. Alistair had the ability to read one’s mind and his skills were old and tuned to perfection, “It won’t come to that, Cian….I promise,” All this he said staring into Madliene, never looking at me once, “Will it, dear?”

Madliene said nothing at first, stood as still as the ancient statue she is, Sophia a zombie by her side, Alistair continued to circle her and then pace from each group of us before standing again beside Angelique. We all kept our positions as he continued, “You see, Cian, everyone, this was our last straw; our backs are, broken. Your human…” his voice turned disgusted at the word, “…was never to be involved in our world.”

Angelique fades from Alistair’s side, appearing beside Sophia. She leads the girl away from Madliene who doesn't dare protest. Once Sophia and Angelique are out of site beyond the haven doors Alistair states, “There, that’s better. Sweet Angelique just wanted her sister back; it was all the payment she required for her information regarding this establishment and all of you. Now…”
Alistair continued, explaining that the night I was met with Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard and her unborn fetus, Madliene sent me to the hospital to investigate the found victim of a former member of our family, Razmus. His victim had been drained but not extinguished and the man was still able to communicate, so much so that he was able to identify Razmus; down to the color of his boots.

This of course made the Queen and others very nervous, being who I am I was the natural choice to determine whether or not this man should live and Razmus die or as it went, both. On my exit of the hospital is where I would encounter Babet’s mother. Upon her arrival, it is explained to me, that, not only healing her affected my memory, but Madliene had the entire accord completely wiped from my mind.

Thessaly, who was employed during the 3rd shift at the hospital, tipped the doctor of my ability to help the dying mother. During the conversation with the doctor regarding the possibility of my assistance, which I originally refused to abide. I allowed Brigitte Lancaster Beauregard to penetrate my shield and with her pleadingly beautiful eyes hooked my soul, I obliged. Thessaly, also connected to Madliene, hell, we all are, aren't we, made her aware of the situation, gaining permission to the tip off to who I was. Thessaly’s payment was her neutrality; Madliene would never again request Thessaly’s violent assistance. But why? Why? WHY!? I feel like a child.

“The reason Madliene gave such permission, knowing what she was engaging in?” Alistair stated rather loudly and boisterously before turning to face Estella, “Because of her distaste for her maker, which is how she obtained you, sweet Estella. For years Madliene has hunted those close to her maker, her attempts to hurt him and take from him what he took from her.”, Alistair began to pace yet again, “Estella, tell me, around what year did you get notification of a positive identification of your human family from Madliene?” Estella said nothing, just stared at Alistair, when she seemed to have a glimpse of that time, her brow furrowed and then her eyes slightly widened. At this, Alistair just nodded and paced once again, “That’s what I thought.”

“Was this your master plan, my dear, to obtain the human ties of your maker to form the vampire family you so desperately need.” Madliene’s face met Alistair’s, her lips parted and she spoke for the first time since his arrival. He glances around to each of us.

“Please. Alistair. Don’t.” her tone is weak like a chastised child.

He turns to face her, his fierce blue eyes penetrating her, “It’s too late my dear.”

Flannaghan enters, we are all distracted for a moment and that is all it takes for Madliene to make a move, she is like lightning snatching Babet from my arms, spinning her. Babet is attached to Madliene’s front, pulling Babet from the group, “I am going to do to her what her father did to me! And it won’t take long. Will it darling,” She is stroking Babet’s face with her bone finger, “All I have to do is stop her heart and she will be one of us. Cian, isn’t that what you want, I know it’s what he wants.” She is using my monster as defense, albeit a poor one.

Babet is not letting this small detail she has learned die, “My father is dead.”

She says her voice faltering under Madliene’s grasp.

Madliene cackles, “You’re half right.”

http://www.amazon.com/Revelations-Cia...

In Wilmington I stop at an upscale gas station and grab my bag from the back. To meet the Gunnar family I have packed one of my sundresses and a newer pair of flip flops. I pair the white sundress with a black sweater since the spaghetti straps are less than conservative. In the mirror I finger my tresses and add a little bit of eye-liner and mascara. My Mamma says without makeup I look like, “Death warmed over.” She’s right and it’s worse since I’ve been in the car for the entire day. I take a deep breath; gather my jeans and t-shirt and head back to my car.

My assumptions of the Gunnar’s beach house are exactly correct and I’m in absolute awe of the three story palace. The Wrightsville beachfront mansion is pale yellow with blue shutters on every one of the large rectangular etched windows. My eyes follow from the door, up to the second story balcony and up further; this house is like a never ending structure to the starry night sky.

I park my car behind a fleet of expensive vehicles. A silver Audi TT sits in front of a Jeep Rubicon but my attentions are diverted to a beautiful Mercedes C-class, sleek black and chrome glow pristine under flood lights. I don’t get to linger at the statuesque automobile when I hear the front door open.

“You’re here!” A diluted Nordic accent chimes over the sound of wind and crashing waves, I see my Daddy’s friend Lars Gunnar, actor of stage and screen. “I’m Lars; Babet?” He says his smile warm and inviting.

“Babet. Yes sir, Mr. Gunnar.” I say, my southern charm oozing through.

“Please, Lars. Call me Lars.” He bows slightly and clasps his hand to his chest. He rises and he is quite tall, lanky almost with light blue eyes and graying blonde hair. His skin is pale and supple; he doesn’t look like a sixty year old man.

“Lars, yes sir.” My tone is professional.

“You can gather your things momentarily; I would like you to meet Soren before he goes to sleep. Okay?”

“Of course.”

Lars holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him to the house, but passes me to open the door. I thank him with a smile; I’m very used to a man holding my door. I pass into the foyer and look high above me and all around me.

The space above is open to multiple sky lights with a grand staircase to the left and the open modern kitchen and dining room to the right. Straight ahead is a great room with leather furniture and beach decor looking out a window framed glass wall with doors leading to a massive second story deck. Beyond is sand and sea, which I can see from the foyer. To the left of the great room is a dark hallway, which I imagine leads to the master bedroom.

“The studio wanted to put me and Soren in a gated community off the beach, but I refused. I told them it was beach front or I walk.” He says smiling but I can see he is a little nervous. He quietly asks, “How was your drive up?”

We ascend a grand staircase; Lars leads me down a dark hall outside the little boy’s room and I feel slightly uncomfortable, “Fine. Long, but I made it.” I say smiling.

“Yes.” He turns the knob and opens the door to a well decorated little boy’s room. Blue and Green planes fly beneath a clouded ceiling. Plastic trucks, matchbox cars and stuffed animals litter the floor and beyond all the chaos a blonde curly haired boy with long eyelashes is passed out in a round spaceship bed. I can’t help but close in on the little tyke who with his eyes closed resembles my own little boy. Lars is picking up toys to make a path as I gaze at his son.

I can’t help but quietly comment, “He’s precious.” My guts wrench for Henri and Scarlet.

“Yes…but he is sleeping. They are all angels when they are sleeping.” He kicks a stuffed monkey toward an open closet. “I was hoping you would meet him while he was awake, but…” I don’t let him finish.

“I got held up in Atlanta.” I say matter-of-factly and it seems to work because he is smiling.

“Yes I’ve worked in Atlanta before, traffic is terrible. Lucky for me I had a driver.” He says holding out his hand to usher me from the room. I realize it’s late but I feel like I’m being rushed around the house.

We walk back down the staircase and I’m hoping at some point I will be able to get my stuff out of my car and settle. No such luck, Lars is ushering me toward the open great room. He hands me a legal sized sheet of paper with black writing from top to bottom and I know this is the mother’s instructions for her husband to handle their son. At the very top; SOREN, is written in dynamic calligraphic letters.
“I’m sorry I can’t show you to your room just yet. I’m on a tight schedule for this production and I have to be on set tomorrow morning at 6:30. That is everything Vilma; my wife has directed for Soren.”

I glance over the list and zero in on his wake time; 7:30 am, Breakfast prepared by Henley. I scan the remainder of the paper before opening my mouth, “Who is Henley?” I ask.

“Henley is our chef. He is wonderful, you will love him, and he arrives at six on the dot every morning.”

“I’m sure I will. Who is Justus?” I ask, the name at the bottom accompanies the statement; “Arrives on Friday.”

“Justus is my oldest son, he is also an actor.”

“Oh, are you working together on this project?” I can’t help but smirk internally, I sound like a pro.

“No, not this time. We have worked together in the past, but not on this production. He is coming into town for pleasure, not business.”

“Ah.” I simply retort.

“He is the other portrait I would like you to paint. Soren…and Justus.”

“Of course.” I start to feel like I have a limited vocabulary.

I scan the list again and there are no wardrobe/uniform specifications printed so I inquire, “What do you want me to wear while I’m attending Soren?”

I seem to have caught him off guard because he is staring at me like I am insane, “I’m sorry?” He chuckles.

“Uniform? Do I need to acquire a uniform?”

He laughs heartily this time and it’s a pleasant sound, “Oh, no. My dear, you wear whatever you like. We are not those types of people.” He says and I think to myself, “This list proves otherwise”. He begins to double over and I didn’t realize I was so funny, “I’m sorry…it’s just, I realize my wife’s list is intricate, but you must understand; Soren is her first child.”

Immediately I’m relieved and it must show, Lars is staring with wide eyes, “Yes, sir. I have two children of my own, but…” He cuts me off.

“You understand then.” He nods, smiling.

I get new mothers are particular and articulate about their children, but wait until she has the next one; this list shit will go right out the window. I can tell by his tone that there is some extended familial drama there but it’s none of my business and I wait for him to continue.

He shifts his eyes to a clock on the wall and says, “It’s later than I thought, let me show you to your room and you may get settled. Will you be able to wake Soren on time?” He asks smiling like I can’t handle it.

“Yes sir, I will be awake when Henley arrives.” I reply with complete professionalism, but I know I will be awake for the rest of the night.

He nods and smirks out of the corner of his eye, “All right then. I‘ll be gone by the time Henley arrives so it will be just you and Soren for the day. I do have a dinner tomorrow night to attend but Henley will prepare your meals before he leaves for the evening. Get acquainted with the list here,” He taps the legal sized paper drooping in my hand. “And I may or may not see you tomorrow evening. We can discuss the portraits once Justus arrives, he has some ideas.” He rolls his eyes at his son’s presumptiveness.

I keep it light, we are only on partial day one; “I’m open to suggestions.”

He laughs and winks at me. I follow him as he waves me toward the staircase; he holds his hand out and says, “The last door on the left is your room Babet; across from Soren. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Please make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” I say, he turns to go back into the darkness of the house I think to myself, I hate when people say that, “Make yourself at home” it always makes me feel more self conscious about being a guest in a strange house. I shrug my shoulders and make my way back up the steps and down the hall. I open the door, I don’t go in but I do place the instruction sheet on the first piece of furniture I see in the dark room. I turn on heel to go back out to my car and collect my things. The house is quiet while I go in and out; up and down the stairs, my arms full of art supplies and my two duffle bags. My last trip out to the car I grab my stuff from the back seat. The sealable plastic bag, with my care package from home inside, is not living up to its name. I can detect a hint of cannabis when I grab my linen sack concealing the package. I want to kick myself for not buying papers at the gas station; I won’t be able to indulge tonight. I certainly could use it, driving and basically a stair-master routine later I’m going to be restless until Lars leaves or Henley arrives or Soren wakes.

My bedroom is a good size; it has standard beach furniture, blonde wood. Inside the door to the right is a large dresser, just past is a closet. I drop onto the fluffy mint green duvet that matches the walls and look around. Between the end of the bed and entertainment center is a narrow walkway, flat screen television, blu-ray player and shuffle player stereo reside inside the cabinet. There is a nice sized window at the end of the room and by the bedside is a small table. The décor is beach fare; starfish, tropical fish and driftwood. The floors throughout are light bamboo with white trim.

I push myself off of the bed and grab my tarp from the long plastic bin. I unfold a portion the material in a nook of the room. I’ll have to wait for the sun to come up before I can position my easel and I hope that the light in this room is good. I prop it against the window frame none the less. I’m not one to unpack my bags and use the dressers in hotel rooms or any other place besides home; but I am one to lay out all my toiletries and I’m a little excited to see the bathroom. I quietly creep into the hall since Soren’s room is directly across from mine; cosmetic bag and “LIST” in hand. The door opens like butter and I slip inside. I flip on the light and I’m amazed at the luxuriousness of the communal bathroom.

The bathroom is a galley; a wide galley. Two rooms, the powder room is first, a long basin sink stretches from door to door, and there is ample dressing space in this portion of the room. Above it is a large framed mirror and the cabinets underneath are sleek and modern. I open the second door where the basin tub and toilet are, and there is vast space around the two. I wonder what the master bath is like! Wow!

I look in the wall to wall mirror; take a deep breath and running my fingers through my hair I could definitely use a bath. It’s the perfect opportunity to try out the large porcelain basin tub. I turn the water on fast and hot. I slip back into my temporary bedroom and grab the instruction sheet off the dresser. I can become familiar with it while I soak the day away. I secure the door and slip out of my clothes; the water is so hot it’s like ritual slowly sliding into the steaming water.

This temperature is most definitely not healthy but it feels so good. I finally sit and the heat feels like tiny hot pokers on my inner thighs. It’s sick, I know but man does it feel good. I’m settled enough to grab the paper off the floor and the porcelain under my arm gives me a cold shock. As strange as it is a flash of Cian’s beautiful face hits me and I almost drop the paper in the water. Oh how I miss his piercing ice blue eyes under that dark furrowed brow and the tiny strands of his raven hair hanging between those eyes.

I swear I get a whiff of his indiscernible scent; like a Penhaligon’s sample set, and the memory of our time in Mad..Mora’s basement floods my consciousness. I close my eyes and sink further into the scalding water. Flashes of his lips at my thigh and then at the apex sends me over the edge. My body tenses and without touching myself what so ever I fall into ecstasy grasping the sides of the tub the paper crumpled in my fist. I keep quiet but it isn’t without great difficulty. I cannot believe that just happened; I mean the dreams were one thing but this is a whole other level; I’m wide awake.

My dreams. Oh boy, my dreams. In the beginning they scared the absolute shit out of me but after the first couple I began to enjoy it. I was plagued with the vision of a frightening yet alluring creature hovering over me, tracing my body with its breath. Until it penetrates and violates me; drinking my blood while ravaging me sexually was scary; at first. Another subconscious sickness I’m sure. Apparently I’m full of them; death wish after death wish. My long lost boyfriend is a vampire, were he to lose control I would become what he is, what my father is and what my…Estella is. Calling her Aunt is too weird. I drive entirely too fast and on occasion, way too fast. The list goes on.

I shake all of this and open my eyes; attempting to straighten the paper. I hope they don’t think I purposefully crumpled it. I take deep breaths as I calm down from that delightful strangeness. I regain composure and focus on the hand written directions.



http://www.amazon.com/Babets-Epiphany...

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Augusta Fern