Augusta Fern's Blog - Posts Tagged "protection"

I approach the palatial two story Garden District house of Babet’s friend, located on Felicity, not far from highway 91 and my warehouse. I run my hand across the top of the wrought iron fence posts before pushing the gate aside to pass into the landscaped front garden; the cobblestones beneath my feet meet the tread of my boot conspicuously.

The house is unfathomable and expansive from the side view. The front is wide, with help from its giant wrap-around front porch. Scrolled wrought iron connects pillared columns to support the vast awning above which is intricately designed. I look up further, the upstairs is blessed with the same treatment, and it is also adorned pillars and scrolled wrought iron to hold up the balcony. The house is painted white, the shutters are green downstairs. The trim around the French doors upstairs matches and there are four green rocking chairs painted the same green look down from up there.

Along the roof, I notice three chimneys protruding it. The closer I get to the front door I see to my far right another door leading to sitting sun room, high-end wicker furniture with brightly colored throw pillows sit arranged inside.

My attentions are diverted back to the front door where I see Babet through the thick glass fumbling with the knob and a muffled angelic voice, “Just…a minute, uh…..” I look down, at my feet a mat with an elaborate W printed in the fibers, the lock clicks back into the carved notch in the door and the knob turns. The heavy wooden door flies open and Babet stands cradling her son in a towel, attempting to balance the sopping excited baby. She is dressed in a brand new pair of jeans and gray V neck man’s undershirt, her black cherry hair pulled up to a ponytail. She staggered backwards allowing me entry.

“Good Evening.” I said looking into her brilliant green eyes as I cross the threshold. She was waiting for me, watching for my arrival. I present the little bath toy.

“Come in.” she said still smiling.
She laughs and holds out a hand to take it from me, our fingers graze and I feel the spark radiate. “Ah-ha, see Henri…here is ducky.” She says to the little boy squirming in her arms apparently unaffected as I. “Could have used this, where did we leave it?” She directs her attention back to me. She plays into Henri’s game, swinging him around before securing him, closing the door to face me.

“I found it in the bathroom upstairs at Audubon. By the way, it’s good to see you smiling,” I said as I stepped foot onto the dark wooden floors into the heavily crown molded foyer, immediately I see the first of three fireplaces, this one is marble with a heavy white mantle. This house is very old to have a fireplace in the foyer. I turn back to face Babet and as I do my head scathes the chandelier overhead.

“Yeah, no matter what’s going on in my life, the kids always make me smile.” She said snuggling her nose into the baby’s neck, nuzzling him until he cooed and then cackled. “Especially this one.” And she snuggled the boy again before saying, “Uh, so….what information do you need from me? I mean, of course I told Estella everything I know and remember about the night Griffin left...disappeared.” She seemed flustered as she corrected herself. It is clear to me she is not interested in discussing her reasons for leaving our safe house.

For a brief awkward moment we were both silent, I can’t help but stare, she becomes as fidgety as the little one in her arms. She hikes the boy further onto her body. “Well, make yourself comfortable I’m going to dress him for bed.” I watch as she turns down a small hallway and strode up a narrow staircase, like the first night I saw her at her shop in the Quarter. She clutched the boy, who stared back down at me over his mothers shoulder until his chubby hands carelessly gripped and examined a lock of her black cherry hair.

She had no idea of the effect her mere presence had on me, her very smell an intoxicating plethora of Lavender and Rose hips, hinted only to my ancient nose, mixed with the smell of fresh paint.

I stepped into this room and that room, all decorated precisely to Frankie’s obviously specific modern style, I smile internally at the same yet egregiously larger print of the Moonwalk photo as Audubon framed and mounted on the wall and I deduce that Frankie and Marcus don’t have children. The house is too immaculate and seems as though it stays that way.

I wander into a long drawing room where the second fireplace sat center two couches on either side facing each other, adjacent to a much modernized kitchen; cream, off white antique style French farmhouse cabinetry surround stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops.

A surprise to my old ears I hear the soothing melody of the 1940’s hit, “I’ll be seeing you” plays from an under the cabinet radio and I decide to sit on one of the overstuffed cream colored couches, I move the orange and blue pillows to one side while I enjoy the blend of the digitally restored song and Babet playfully dress Henri overhead, I can heard the baby squeal with delight from upstairs.

Babet comes down with the boy saddled to her hip, I can hear her padding through the house, possibly looking for me but I observe as she passes me by, she found what she was looking for, a baby cup in her hand. Her mood seemed determined and unwavering. I watch meticulously as she moves about the kitchen.

Open the refrigerator, pull out the milk, untwist the cup top, and place it on the counter. Pour the milk, return it to the refrigerator. Replace the cap on the cup. All while balancing Henri on her hip. She smiles at me when she returns with the baby, the cup now residing in his little hands, he grips the blue and red cup adorned with cars, turning it until finally placing the sipper in his mouth. He settles into his mother’s lap as she sits on the opposite couch; across from me.

I was glad, she was as far away from me as possible, her scent stronger than I had anticipated. She made herself comfortable and propped Henri up as he was clearly enjoying his beverage. Once she had the baby situated she turned her gaze expectantly for me to instigate conversation. I oblige her.
“Are you aware of what our purpose is here, in your life?” I asked keeping my tone indifferent.

She focuses on me, “Yes, and I appreciate all you both… you all, have done for us, but I have to ask, Why? Which is kind of why I bolted last night…this morning” and her gaze went from me to Henri, and back to me again, waiting for an answer.
“I thought…..How much did Estella make you aware of?”

She took a deep breath and rattled off the list from memory.
“I would assume everything. Firstly, which originally got my attention, other than the fact that she is absolutely stunning; she said my husband’s disappearance may be more than that, something supernatural. That she is my descendant. And Griffin’s. Which is rather creepy but interesting. She explained her connection to PGT Beauregard; which is kind of tragically romantic. She also mentioned she was a….” Babet’s intense focus on the conversation was disturbed as she glanced down at her baby who had fallen asleep, the sipper of the cup teetering halfway out of his heart shaped mouth.

Babet removed the cup from Henri’s listless grasp, placing it on the giant teak coffee table between us. She readjusted the baby’s position and continued her thought. “She was, is, a…vampire. And, that you are also a vampire.”

The words escaped her lips and her facial expression morphed from humor at the thought of such a concept and then distress of said concept. Although her face showed these emotions, her body language indicated complete comfort. She didn’t exude the fear I usually detect from humans when in my presence. So much so, that she carefully scooted herself to the edge of the couch cradling the sleeping baby and excused herself to put the boy upstairs. She returned, falling into the overstuffed couch, with a heavy sigh.

“Does it frighten you?” I said as I turned my head from staring down at my hands.

“Should it? Estella said I was completely safe with you.” She replied confused but not fearful, her radiant green eyes boring into me.

“No…I mean yes, of course you are safe.” I paused after a tiny laugh, thinking as my brow furrowed and I changed the subject. “Why? You asked, correct?” I twisted my body on the couch to give her my full attention and took a deep breath preparing to not only frighten this woman beyond recognition but to caution her to the situation. But tonight she was different; she was curious and inquisitive; not horrified like most humans. Maybe she’s slowly accepting of this situation, Estella and her story. Maybe it’s the familiar surroundings; she has me on her “turf”. Whatever it may be I was thankful for the small beginnings, the tiny fibers of trust slowly come together to weave my quilt of defense. I will shelter her.

“Yes.” The word stung like a dagger in my heart.

“First, you are a direct descendant of a living, well, existing vampire. A vampire that has kept distant watch over her family for generations and will continue to do so for future generations.” I say matter-of-factly, but in the back of my mind I think, “If we survive this.”

“Second, we believe. That is our Queen, has reason to believe that you are the target of a vampire’s desire.” I had never spoken words more true, but I was thinking only of myself when I said them, not the creature stalking her every move.

“Desire?” her face squeezed up as she took it in.

I nodded and begin to elaborate.

I stood up and against my better judgment took her by the shoulders, this would be difficult, but I felt the need to comfort her. I stopped her in her tracks. I looked into her eyes, hoping to squelch her worry. She gazed up at me, her face inches from mine, her scent captivated me and I could feel the hunger mount inside me, my eyes began to darken and my face began to change in front of Babet.

I could see the fear, an interested fear but fear none the less, in her eyes and I turned away from her, “Excuse me.” I stepped away, retreating toward the back of the palatial residence, I opened the French doors beyond the back of the dark sunroom, I stepped into the shrubbery enclosed brick courtyard; closing the door behind me. The security motion light came on and I lifted my head to the sky taking deep breaths of crisp clean air until I felt my face return to normal.

I turned to face the door and saw the reflection staring back at me like an illuminated picture. The six foot four man with broad shoulders and a messy mop of raven black hair was staring back at me. He was slender but muscular, dressed in a black t-shirt, carpenter jeans and black boots. I stared at the reflection taking it all in when the picture began to move. Babet stepped through the door and I turned away from her.

“Are you okay?” she asked sympathetically and I was baffled once again. I hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. I envisioned her snatching Henri from his bed and bolting out the door, into her car and as far away from all this as she could get. Which is what she would do if she were smart; but she didn’t, she was genuinely concerned for me. Me.

I stood back from the door not making eye contact and said, “It wouldn’t hurt to call and check in on your daughter.” I didn’t look at her, still immersed in the evening air above me. She turned to go back into the house, closing the door and I focused on her through it. She began to roam around and I watched as she pulled a thin red cell phone from her pocket, dial and wait for an answer.

I overheard her say, “Scarlet, it’s Mom. …Nothing honey, I just wanted to check in on you. …..Oh, cool, was it good?” she began to laugh heartily at whatever her daughter was saying. “Okay, well….have fun and I love you.” She pressed the button on the phone to end the call, stared at it for a moment and then looked back at me through the glass door.

She looks intently in my eyes as she slid the door open again, “Scarlet’s fine, they went to that new Hibachi place downtown.” She smiled as she replaced the phone in the back pocket of her jeans.

She turned on the ball of her left foot and padded back to the couch, plopping down once again, this time sitting on her left foot. I stepped inside the frame of the door, closing it behind me and joined her on the other side of the couch. I felt an awkward moment pressing in on us; I am reminded of my search for knowledge of Frankie and Marcus W.

“So,” I said waving my hand around, “What does your friend do for a living, this place is….” I trailed off.

“Ostentatious, is the word you’re looking for.” Babet’s sarcastic tone mirroring that of Estella’s and I smile at the similarity of the distant relatives, I am caught by Babet.

“What?” she asks on the verge of laughter.

“You are a lot like her.”

“Estella? Yes, I recognized a couple of similarities myself last night.”

“And still you ran?” I realize my tone is accusing and with that the jovial mood of the room deteriorates.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” She mumbles quietly, intending for me not to hear.

“Try me.” I say as sincerely as possible. For as little as I know of this woman, she knows less of me and my own trials and tribulations. How I entered this world, so long ago. Why I felt the need to alter my entire life history with one rash decision.

“Well, first you asked about Frankie? Right?”

“Yes.”

“She is a well respected, highly educated hair stylist and salon owner. She has four salons here in New Orleans and two in North Carolina, one in Raleigh and the other is at Atlantic Beach, Emerald Isle area.”

“Which salon is she visiting in North Carolina, Raleigh or Atlantic Beach?”

“She’s in Raleigh now, The Gallery, Salon. I think she will rent a car and drive to Atlantic Beach, it’s only about two and a half hours from Raleigh.”
I nod and then pry further, “Is she married?”

“Yeah, Her husband works for the state of Louisiana, he’s a scientist. Marcus is a great guy, he’s her second husband. The first was a leach. Marcus makes her very happy. It’s just the two of them for now, but I know she wants children eventually. She had grandiose dreams of her empire, now that it’s basically established I think they will start trying. She is Scarlet and Henri’s godmother.”

“What does the W stand for?”

“Weller. You know I feel like I am in an interrogation.” Her tone humorous.

“I apologize, it’s imperative I have some Intel about you and your past. Something back then could have influenced the situation you are in today. Do you understand?” I try not to sound like my father.

She takes a deep breath and widens her eyes before beginning again. “Next question.”

I smile, she is finally being cooperative but before I can ask my “next question” she interrupts my train of thought.
“Estella says you have “one of those faces” but she’s wrong. I know I have seen you before, in the Quarter maybe, in Jackson Square possibly?”

“I do live in the warehouse district…” what the fuck am I doing, tradecraft 101, never reveal your home base. “But I am rarely out during the day in the Quarter.” I smirk at my own hilarity.

“No, I know….you were at the annual Beauregard Family home….thing, right? I feel like I saw you there, I know Estella was there, she got up and left during my,” her tone mocking, “most prestigious presentation.” She said imitating a British dame. She laughed her glorious laugh and I am enraptured by the sound.

“Yes, I was.”

“And?”

“And, what?”

“Did you enjoy my presentation?” She didn’t let me answer her. “Kidding, don’t answer that.”

“I did, it was one of the more enlightening evenings I have spent in a long time. You are a brilliant artist.”
She begins to blush, but quickly straightens herself.

“Enlightening how?” She says, not missing a beat. She’s a quick thinker this one; another revelation into Babet Benoit. I had to keep from mentioning my observations of her friends.

“I was unaware of Estella’s connection to PGT Beauregard until that night. I also was quite intrigued at the history of the Beauregard property. I was a soldier, once upon a time. Recently I have become quite the modern art lover though, especially after your presentation.” My tone is becoming whimsical but she sees right through it.

“Jesus, I have been making that speech since I was in middle school. I swear I wish my mother would find some other way to show off our family. When I was in North Carolina I was free, free of the pomp and circumstance. Free of the money and fake friends, I swear those Junior League bitches are still after me. Not after me, like this…but they want me to join. I know a lot of those girls from school and that’s part of the problem, but the other is they want in on anything philanthropic in New Orleans and what I do for the community is not to exploited or used for advertisement. Two of my favorites were at the presentation, they always are.” Her rant runs out of steam but it answers a couple of my questions but creates another.
“What is your philanthropic contribution to New Orleans?”

“I organize a “Future Artists” festival every year. A lot of other local artists, like Molly, have booths displaying their art or games for kids; we give away free art supplies and offer classes. Frankie also has a booth; she teaches styling technique and sells hair art. Those girls, the Junior Leaguers, every year try to weasel their way in.”

“Do you think they burned down your studio?”

She laughs, “No, I mean those girls are evil, but not that evil. The best way to explain it is that they are still in high school. Desperately trying to be everything to everyone, I wasn’t and I’m not interested in that. I want to be everything to me, not others.”

“Like I said, it was one of the most enlightening evenings. Of course I hope to have lots of enlightening evenings with you.”

“Oh?” She is wary.

“Well, yes. After all, I know virtually nothing about you.” Except every inch of your delicious naked form; I am aware of the monster still hovering in the back of my mind.

“Okay, should we continue where we left off?”

“If you like.”

“Where was I?”

“Your status in the community; what prompted the escape to North Carolina?”

“My upbringing was relatively normal, for a rich southern girl, until my father died. I was 10. My mother says from that point on I was a handful. I got in trouble at school, a lot, people began to treat me differently because of the strange circumstances surrounding his death. Frankie and Molly were the only ones who stood by me and continue to stand by me.”

“Where does Molly live?”

“She has a loft in one of the renovated warehouses off the river. She has a spectacular view in the evenings.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a photographer.”

“Molly DuBois?”

“Yeah, you know her?”

“I know her work.” I am very interested in Babet’s connection to Molly DuBois.

“She’s always had an eye, even in school. She could hold the camera up and shoot, develop the photo, it’s a masterpiece; makes me sick, but I love her. Those girls are like sisters to me.”

“So both women returned to New Orleans after college?”

“Molly did, but Frankie stayed to open her first salon in Raleigh. Molly says there is no other more photographic place than New Orleans, home. Frankie came home after her Atlantic Beach location was settled and fully staffed. By then she was married to Christof.” She began to rise from the couch and in turn I too start to get to my feet, but quickly realized what I was doing. She made her way toward the kitchen but not before calling out to me, “You want something to drink?” I heard the words and I could feel her wince at what she was asking, she then verbalized it upon returning with a glass of ice water for herself. “Sorry.”

“No, I am content.” If she was really offering? Oh; would I.

“Speaking of…” I feel it coming.

“Estella said you don’t drink from humans, but you do drink human blood. How is that possible?”

“I suppose it’s my turn to enlighten you.” I said melodically.

“She said I could ask you anything, but whether or not you would answer truthfully was an enigma.”

I am taken aback by what Estella has said to Babet, what else has she warned her against? “I believe she was kidding.” I say dryly.

“I hope so; it was the condition of your involvement in my situation. Estella, I can concede to, she’s family. You, on the other hand are a virtual stranger, to me at least.”

“I can only hope to rectify your apprehension of my involvement; Estella is a very important person in my existence.”

“Are you two…?” She trails off, not wanting to say the words.

“Not in the way you are thinking.”

“How do you know what I am thinking?”

“You’re human; your thoughts are only on the inevitable. I don’t mind; it’s natural.” I can tell by the look on her face that I am right.

“Okay and what inevitable scenario am I thinking of?” She is clearly goading me.
I decide to squash this, “You imagine that Estella and I are concupiscent in our relationship.”

She is clearly embarrassed and I am victorious until she ups me once again bringing me back down, “Not to change the subject, but for someone of your caliber you are quite loquacious.”

“And what caliber are you referring to?” I am managing to not utter her name after ever sentence I speak. The sound and feel of it in my mouth makes it water salaciously.

“Estella said you were a bounty hunter of sorts; I don’t know many bounty hunters that speak as eloquently as you do.”

“You know many bounty hunters? Never mind, I don’t suppose she told you how old I was?” I mutter. “The same could be said of an artist.” I retort

“She didn’t give me a number, but she said you have been around for a while. Oh, and I have been instructed by the most influential educators in the curriculum of etiquette, including cotillion.”

“A while, yes…that is a very nice way to put it. Thank you Estella. Cotillion, huh?”

She raises an eyebrow, “Yeah….So?”

“So?”

“Are you going to give me a number?” Her tone became something different; almost seductive.

“No, probably not.”

“I can do probably; it’s ‘no’ that always gets me.” She smiles one of the most genuine smiles I have ever seen and apparently I am gawking.

“What?” She says as she strokes the back of her ponytail.

“Sorry, you have a very fine smile.” I hear my diluted brogue deepen.

“Thank you.” And we are silent; occasionally she glances my way as I seem to be in deep thought. Realistically I am volleying the monster inside who is intently interested in Babet and my dialog. I must break this dead silence.
“You asked how I maintain myself without acting on the deviously obvious, well the answer to that is I have an arrangement with a good friend who provides an alternative source of sustenance. I made the “change of life” so to speak after an, I suppose repressed, atrocity three decades ago.” She begins to laugh.

“Three decades? You don’t look old enough to talk about thirty years.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Surprise me.” Her tone is teasing and tantalizing but I say nothing. I can feel her working up something else to ask. “Okay, how long have you been in New Orleans, after all, your accent…”

I begin to wish Estella had divulged more about my age to Babet, “I settled here after the second World War and as far as my age goes…put it this way, I am old enough to realize the ramifications of feeding off the protected. Furthermore I am jaded enough to relinquish all humans from my dietary repertoire. I partake in the voluntary donated,” she seems confused, “Blood bags.” I finally say.

“It’s just…I know some people who are donors, live donors.” She says her green eyes peeking up at me through lacquered lashes.

I am once again taken aback by her bluntness, but she quickly eases my mind. “The art community is very receptive to the unusual; in fact we thrive off it. Griffin and I went to a few parties where vampires had been in attendance.”

This revelation has my mind racing and it proves my theory about the pasts of individuals returning to haunt them. Could one of the parties the Benoit couple attended be the source of our current mayhem? Babet notices my arresting stance and I return to the here and now.

“Revelations.” I say quietly to myself but Babet picks it up.

“Revelations?”

“Apologies, I was just piecing things together.” I say nonchalantly shaking off the reverie.

“You talked about an atrocity, what was that?”

“It’s repressed whatever it is, but yes it forced me to completely retract from the hunt. All I recall is standing in a parish hospital, practically drenched in blood and a staggering sorrow, guilt and utter dishonor in myself. Whatever I did, I didn’t want to do it again or feel the way it felt ever again.”

I look up at Babet, she is visibly sympathetic to the plight I had endured and in her face I see so much of Estella. Babet is looking at me the exact same way Estella looked at me when we secured Babet and her children at Audubon. The similarity is credible enough that these two women are connected by more than what meets the eye. Could Babet be a sort of reincarnated spirit of Estella, do we as vampires lose our “spirit” when we are made?

Our souls are considered damned; could our human spirit, when we are made, dilute to evanescence only to be reborn in distant relatives. It was such a farfetched theory but it was something I wanted to discuss with Penelope at her earliest convenience, given I could trust her with the knowledge of my involvement with a human, besides my usual involvement.

I return to Babet sitting, staring at me patiently, “So, you’ve divulged some about you, I’ve divulged a bit about me, let’s go back to you.” I say coolly, reengaging the conversation.

“Okay. Where do you want to return to?”

“Your time in North Carolina, was brief, correct?”

“Yes, I came back to New Orleans pregnant with Scarlet after six months up there.”

“Where in North Carolina?”

“First we moved to the Atlantic Beach area, the three of us eventually settled on renting a house on the sound in Emerald Isle. It was more cost effective than actual Atlantic Beach. Frankie started her esthetic education there before transferring to a school in Raleigh. Molly had a lucrative apprenticeship with a well known photographer in Emerald Isle; she attended community college while working with him. She never made it to Raleigh as a resident, she returned to NOLA from EI after she and the photographer diluted their relationship. It’s a beautifully quiet beach haven, incredible sunsets and simple easy going people. God I loved it there. I worked for a potter out of Seagrove before I came home.”

“Why North Carolina?”

“It’s as far north as I could get but still be in the south; with southern Ideals, morals, and hospitality. Emerald Isle is intoxicating. True the summer months are touristy but the season ends, and around late September, early October the masses have gone. The air changes and the water from up above looks like its smuggling emeralds, which is how it got its name. North Carolina has some of the most exquisite beaches on the East coast. The Atlantic Beach area has a lot of great historical areas, as well as Beaufort and Morehead City.”

“You could be their spokesperson.”

She laughs, “I would too.”

“Did you form many relationships while there?”

“Not really, I met John and secluded myself with him. I worked with a girl named Chloe Warren; she is about the only other person I saw. She and I traded shifts at the potter’s store in Atlantic Beach.”

“Who was the potter you worked for; you said they were out of Seagrove?”

“Yeah, her studio was in Seagrove, NC. She had a retail store in Atlantic Beach called, A Little Pot, the sign on the store like a question, A Little Pot?” She chuckles at the play on words.

“Didn’t she get in trouble or at least raided?”

“No, her cousin is a sheriff down there. He kept it all straight for her.”

“Interesting.”

“Hmm, not really.” She turns to her hands placed neatly in her lap, no doubt a subconscious result of years of etiquette training but I can see she is pondering something.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I say a slight smile gracing my lips.

“So, not to change the subject but have something plaguing me besides the obvious and I feel like I can’t or shouldn’t tell Estella this because of who she is and her connection to both Griffin and me, but….” She wavers as she tries to wrap her head around her thoughts. I allow her as much time as she needs, but it isn’t long before she begins again.
“The night Griffin disappeared I had the overwhelming feeling of contentment; relief almost and I feel…no I know, I shouldn’t have felt this. That night as I waited for him to return I fell asleep and dreamt….” She stops, wincing at the words forming in her head and the emotion radiating from her is one of embarrassment.

“Yes,” I say impatiently and her eyes fly up to meet mine. “I’m sorry; take your time, of course.”

“….of someone like you.” She is clearly mortified but I am intrigued by the notion. Could the fact that I was there watching her that night, my aura resonates in her or the fact that the creature was so close, his aura resonating in her. I don’t know how to address this so I stay silent waiting for her to continue, if she will.

“Right before you retreated outside, while you um…stopped my frenzy. Your face reminded me of the dream.” She looks to me for some kind of resolution, explanation. I have none. All I have are questions, questions she isn’t going to want to answer.

“What is the creature doing in your dream?” I feel a change in her emotional stance. Her embarrassment morphs to extreme discomfort.

“Um….it’s a male and….I um, I’m looking up at him, his almost black eyes and blindingly white teeth are very apparent and he’s…..” She cannot or won’t finish.

She doesn’t need to; I know what she is dreaming; Vampire rape. It’s the visions I get when the monster takes claim, I can only hope with all I am that who she is dreaming of is me and not it.

“No need to continue, I have a good idea of what you speak. All I can offer is my most heartfelt apology, it must have been terrifying.”

“Yes, but after a moment,” she stops, refuses to look at me, “I began to enjoy it. God! That sound so awful doesn’t it? ” She meets my gaze.

I am speechless and have no words. She enjoys it? Hmm, I am intrigued.
“Not the contentment, you had yet to gain knowledge of Griffin’s disappearance. How often do you have this dream?” I attempt to remain impassive but my trepidation comes from the possibility of reoccurrences.

“Not that often, if I recall the first was the night Grif disappeared, the second was the night of the presentation. The next was a night his mom was supposed to keep the kids; she called me at the last minute to pick them up. The last one was last night; so…four times.”

Revelations of Cian

FUCK ME! FOUR! My mind is racing and the nights she dreams this are the nights I have paid her visit. At least it is me and not the creature. I remain seated but I am pacing inside, the monster smiling wide at this revelation. I glare at him as he watches me back and forth, back and forth, smug fucking bastard that he is. During all this I see her searching me for something. Explanation, maybe but I had none I cared to share. I couldn’t get away from this fast enough.

“It’s something I will keep confident and look into with discretion, you have my word.” I say as I bow my head and place my right hand over my heart.

“Thanks, but I welcome a personal opinion if you have one?”

“I don’t, I will have to resort to the Queen’s library for further reference.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with this.

“You have to understand, this type of situation is new to me also. I don’t usually….” I trail off trying to deliver this painlessly.

“Babysit.” She says with apt contempt.

“I don’t consider this babysitting, so please don’t assume that I do.” I feel like I have snapped her head off as my tone exudes harshly.

“Sorry…I, I didn’t. It’s just a defense mechanism, disregard my sarcastic hostility.” But her tone is not apologetic, it’s angry. I have angered her.

“Please, I apologize. In my line of work I am not usually protecting anyone, if anything; they are the ones who should obtain protection. I feel a little stir-crazy to be honest. I’m not used to sitting still.”

“I see. What do you do Cian?” The sound of my name on her lips is exquisite, but her tone is darkly inquisitive.

“I don’t want to frighten you away.”

“Listen, I am supposed to trust you right? Believe me when I say you can trust me with this.”

“It’s not the trust I have issue with, I have no reason not to trust you, it’s the details of what I do, that may…how can I put this? Turn your hair white.”

“Please?”

I remained silent for the time being, searching my vocabulary for the softest way to deliver the schematics of my occupation. She sits waiting patiently for me to gather myself.

“Bounty Hunting is just a fraction of what I do.” I take a deep breath, “There is a horrific condition to how I may collect my payment for each job.”

“What does that mean?”

I do not answer.

“Okay, can I guess?” She says straightening in her seat as if she were about to answer the million dollar question.

“If you wish.”

“Will you answer me truthfully?”

Reiterating what Estella had warned her about me.

“If you guess correctly, yes.” I sit up to mock her body language.

“So, what I know about Bounty Hunting is that you seek out the bail jumper, take them into your custody and return them for a bounty. The hunter gets the cash and moves on.”

“That is a decent definition of bounty hunting.” I say humorously, but she is not amused. She rolls her eyes and I can see another statement forming.

“Okay, so how are you different? The only thing I can come close to is, you don’t return the perpetrator intact. I mean it seems like a horrific condition, to just return a hand or a finger.”

I am shocked by her intelligence, but I am also internally rolling on the floor, as well as the monster. If I returned just a hand or a finger I would not last long in this business. I reveal a little of the mystery.

“Or a head.” I say smirking at her. She is staring at me dumfounded, then begins to laugh hysterically. Throwing her body into the back of the couch, her eyes are closed and her throat is contracting from the deep laughter. She regains composure opening her eyes to reveal pooling joyful tears. It’s a gloriously delightful sight; I haven’t witnessed tears of joy in a very long time. And from someone so captivating.

“You’re kidding right?” She is smiling through the words, which fades when I deny the joke. “Well I remain open minded, continue.” Her body language returns to deep interest.

“I couldn’t simply return a hand or a finger; I can snatch one of those off anyone. The condition to payment is a head or teeth, specifically the K9s or eyelets.”

“So does the “boss” test the teeth for identification like CSI?”

“Yes, we have the same technology. I prefer the head though, faster payment.” This is it, that has to send her over the edge, but it doesn’t.

“I can see that, if it were me I would go that route as well.” She smiles, her teeth perfectly straight and gleaming white, I can’t help but comment.

“You have beautiful teeth, Babet.” Oh Christ, her name. “Did you have to have years of braces?” I am genuinely interested.

“Thank you but, don’t change the subject.” She momentarily hoods her green eyes at me. “I want to know more about this and I’ve never had braces. Continue.”

“Are we not playing the guessing game anymore?” I smirk into a smile and she stares at my mouth until my lips wrap back around my teeth.

“Sorry, yours are mesmerizing.” She shakes the trance off.

“Part of the package I’m afraid.”

“So, your teeth can draw humans in?” She answers her own question but not before chastising herself. “Of course, moron….they just did it to you.” She rolls her eyes and then yawns. She stretches, arching her back, when she returns she lets out a massive sigh. She looks over at the clock on the wall, clear across the kitchen, definitely too far for any human to see.

“Oh man, I’m going to make some coffee, do you mind if we take a break?” She says getting off the couch, one bare foot hits the floor then the other. She shoves her thumbs into the back of her pants to pull them up before making her way into the kitchen. She calls to me, “I’m sorry I have nothing to offer you.” I hear snickering after a moment and I wonder if she finally realized her fop aux.

“Yeah, no problem.” I also find this amusing, her foot entering her mouth. She gets the coffee brewing saunters past the counter and leans in the heavily molded doorway between the two rooms crossing her arms under her breasts giving them a shelf to rest upon.

“It really isn’t my fault it’s a southern thing, it’s in the blood. We can’t let you leave our house without a four course dinner and sweet tea.” She laughs and I will never get enough of the sound. I was determined for it to continue.

“I’m aware, Estella has her moments. I have been fortunate to witness them a time or two. You should have seen her when Thessaly dropped off the clothes.”

“Clothes?” She drops her arms and sits back on the couch, her right foot beneath her.

“Estella had our concierge drop off some clothes for you and the kids, since yours….” I didn’t want to upset her.

“Got toasted? Yeah, luckily I still had a pair of jeans here I could fit and I borrowed one of Marcus’ shirts.” She says pulling on the fabric, which pops back to her body when she releases it. “I’m okay Cian, really. Things…happen…..Shit happens.” The laughter. Oh Christ, the laughter. “I thought those bags were hers, I didn’t touch them.”

I change the subject, “When do you expect to hear from the Fire Marshal?”

“Any day honestly and I won’t be surprised if it’s faulty wiring. Griffin made plans to update all the electrical but funds fell through and….shit happened.” She gets up to return to the kitchen, opens a cabinet and removes a white coffee mug placing it on the counter. She turns to the refrigerator, pulls the door open and after a quick search finds the creamer. Popping open the cap on the bottle, she then pours it into the mug, closes the cap and returns it to the refrigerator door. She stops after closing the door and catches me staring. “Look I know you are supposed to “watch” me,” she makes air quotes around the word, “but you’re taking it a little too seriously, don’t you think?” She finishes making her coffee.

“Job requirements and attention to detail is more than imperative in my line of work.” I say very seriously.

“But with me, you’re not in your line of work. Correct?” she sits back down, coffee cup in hand. She grips it with two hands and blows into it before taking a sip. I wish I was with her.

“Touché” I say bending my head to agree with her. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No worries, I’m just bustin’ your balls. Honestly I am new to all these things so I really shouldn’t have anything to say….I should just keep my mouth shut and do as I am told.”

“But it’s not your style.” I say, not looking at her, but into my massive hands.

“Exactly, not only is it not one of my personality traits to remain silent, but my kids are my most consequential concern. I can’t lose them too.” She looks away to the fireplace which is empty and black inside.

I want to take the seat beside her, take her in my arms and comfort her. Sitting across from me she looks so solitary, her knees gathered to her chest. I am like a Libra, huh, Libra…weighing the options, pros and cons. It’s seems like an eternity of silence. I fight myself and the monster inside.

I can do this, I must do this. I get to my feet, she sees this and steadies her eyes on me, I round the teak coffee table, and she lowers her feet to the floor in anticipation of my actions and watches me sit beside her. I lean back into the cushions of the overstuffed couch, turning my knees slightly in her direction. I take her hand between the two of mine and her delicate appendage disappears betwixt them.

I look into the vibrant green circles that flick back and forth searching my eyes. “You won’t. I promise.” My tone is abundantly sincere.

She is captivated, her breathing has increased and her emotions are contained, contented. But it’s different. She is not totally enraptured but comfortable.
Her words are soft and certain, “I know.” I feel the grip loosen; her defensive wall is beginning to crack, “I trust you.” As the words fall out we hear Estella’s distinctive voice and both turn our heads to it.

“Hey, where are ya’ll?!” She is yelling through the house, her heels clomping from room to room.


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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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The ride is quiet; Molly’s loft is in a building two away from my haven warehouse. I am so close I could walk home and drink a blood bag before anyone noticed my absence. We take the modernized elevator up to the third floor where Molly calls home. The hallway is white and sterile, original brick columns are spaced between unit doors. There is carpet underfoot and restoration lamps for lighting. We reach the door to the home of Molly DuBois and I had to admit meeting her provoked a slight thrill in me. I honestly respected her as an artist.

Babet doesn’t knock, she enters and I put my hand on the door above her head to assist, she smiles at me while putting Henri on the floor inside the door. It automatically closes once we are beyond it, modernization.

It is apparent there are no people in the apartment the further we walk down the bamboo hall. Molly has a “clean-line” decorating style. The hall opens up to a sleek modern kitchen, so much so that there is no discerning where the refrigerator, dishwasher or any other major appliance is, the counter is a long thin white granite block. Beyond the kitchen is a modest living space and industrial staircase leading down. Two red block couches face each other, in between a butcher block coffee table sits with various photography magazines and a single silver bowl littering it.

I am distracted from the tour when Babet ascends the staircase, “Okay, Henri is laying in Molly’s bed watching television. He played so hard at the park today, he won’t last long.” She giggles and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard that glorious sound tonight.
“And Scarlet?” I ask.

“Already engrossed in her cell phone, texting Monica no doubt.” She shrugs and now that the children are settled I have an idea I hope she will agree to.
“Everyone is already upstairs I’m sure, are you ready for this?” She says and I gingerly take her hand before she can get far.

“Look,” I stare deep into her, but not so deep I am controlling her, “We aren’t far from my haven. You have been gracious enough to allow us into your world. Would you like to see a little into mine?”

Her eyes are soft and alluring, she smiles, “Yeah. Yes.”
We are in my warehouse and up the elevator before I realize it, considering my captivation of Babet. I lift the gate and she passed through into the vast space.

“Wow”, her voice echoes. “How long have you lived here?”

I flip the light that illuminates the small space over my box. I watch her carefully as she glides around my haven; her heels slowly click through, “The answer to your question; since they deemed these old warehouses uninhabitable. But I suppose they will eventually take it from me, the city that is.”

“What will you do then?” She is genuinely concerned.

I smile, “I will move on.”

“To where?”

“Honestly I haven’t thought that far ahead.” I can’t contain my bliss at the distressful emotions radiating from her. She seems to feel as though I am going to evaporate before her eyes. “Hey,” I saunter over to her; she is standing between the windows and the old couch. I put my hands on either side of her shoulders, “I’ll be okay; I’ve been okay for a long time.”

She doesn’t miss a beat, “How long is that again?” She smiles at me big and bright.

“Nice try.” I mirror her expression. We stand face to face, eye to eye, my smile fades and I lean into her, taking her face between my hands. They’re so large they almost cover both sides of her magnificent face. She is receptive and I feel a rush go through her, the flesh beneath my hands burns. She wants this, she wants me. I smile inwardly as I place my lips upon hers.

Her lips…Christ, these lips are soft, supple hot rose petals forming around mine like puzzle pieces. She parts them and I feel her pyretic tongue graze the inside of my upper lip, my teeth immediately run out. I pull and turn away from her, I begin to feel a wave of embarrassment befall her and I hastily diminish this in her, “I’m sorry,” I say taking full responsibility, “that was…” but she cuts me off.

“Lovely.” She says using her thumb to wipe the moisture from her bottom lip, almost savoring it as that bonny lip gets caught between her teeth, raking what remains into her mouth. This gesture is almost enough to send me back over the edge and of course, the monster is right there waiting. She doesn’t take her eyes off mine, “We should probably get back over to Molly’s.”

I simply nod.

The rooftop of Molly’s building is adorned with twinkling lights and suspended blown up renderings of Molly’s photos. On the right side of the rooftop courtyard she is displaying the positivity of our fair city; I am drawn to the New Orleans cityscape at twilight, sunrise and midnight; when the lights of the metropolis are most prominent. These are followed by shots of break-dancers in Jackson Square and the artists surrounding it. But we don’t get the opportunity to take it all in before Babet’s friends Frankie and Molly spot her, and eventually, me.

“Babe! You’re finally here!” Molly is clearly already in the spirit of the night, “Is this Cian?” Her speech is slightly slurred but it’s clear she has her bearings. She hugs Babet who laughs as she embraces her friend.

“Yes. Molly DuBois this is Cian.” I glance at the photographer before bowing.
Molly is obviously confused, “Just, Cian?”

“Aye.”

“Good enough for me,” She turns away from us, “Frankie come meet Cian!” She shouts over the alternative rock music. Before she turns back to us I have the split second to examine Molly DuBois. She is wearing a simple black sheath dress, that hits her minimal curves appropriately, and she has matched it with a cropped shrug jacket. Her long legs are extended by her crimson red stilettos. She is holding a flute of champagne out away from her body using it to coax Frankie over. She turns back to us and I see she has changed her hair color from the last time I saw her at Babet’s presentation. It’s no longer a light blonde color; it is platinum and has a hue of pink, making her look like a fairy when the overhead lights hit it.

She has the tresses pulled back into a chignon knot and Babet takes notice, “Molly, I love your hair! When did you have Frank do that?”

“Last week, it’s was really pink at first, she calmed it down.” She pats the back of it with her champagne hand, “you like?”

“I really do!” Babet’s emotions are all over the place. She is happy to be here, but nervous and apprehensive. She’s hiding it like a champ.

Frankie finally makes her way over; she is eyeing me speculatively as she hugs Babet, “Hey Babe.”

“Hey Frank.” The two friends embrace and Molly’s friend Wade approaches with a camera.

“Get together girls.” The three women do as they are told and all three smile brightly and beautifully at the hipster gentleman who seems not to change his attire for anything. He kisses Molly before jaunting off to another group of people.

I turn my attentions back to the three graces, I felt it before I see it but Frankie is still eyeing me and I am beginning to feel humorously uncomfortable. Babet notices and comes to my rescue, “Frankie Weller, this, is Cian.” She puts her hand out for me to take, but I keep my hands neatly behind my back and bow to her.

She lowers her hand, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“I concur.” I say while examining Frankie, who is wearing an orange pencil skirt and white cap sleeved shirt, white ruffles flow down the front creating a v-neck. Her baby blue peep toe platforms also increase her height. Her dark blonde hair has been lightened and is pulled into a low side pony tail draping over her shoulder.

Molly engages Babet and Frankie in conversation and I take a moment to scan the outdoor room, various groups of people; artist types, business types, alternative lifestyle types are all in attendance. They lazily make their way around the space, from one dynamic photo to the next. I finished taking in the right side that shows the beauty of New Orleans.

My gaze shifts over to the left side, where the raw and squalor of New Orleans is present. There are two photos side by side, both post Katrina. A little African American girl is kneeling on the side of the road by the dead body of her grandmother who had succumbed to the death in the aftermath. The other; is an aerial shot of the lower ninth district two days after the storm. I read Molly was one of the first locals to lend a hand. So much so, she hired a helicopter to fly stranded residents out; all the while photographically documenting the chaos. I am pulled from my inner thoughts by three words I have already heard today.

“He’s gay.”

“Shame.” Molly disappointingly says.

Now Frankie and Molly are eyeing me, I cut my eyes at Babet, there is no humor in them. She sees this and mouths, “I’m sorry.” Again.

Molly seemed unaffected but Frankie isn’t letting me get away that easy, “He’s not gay. Honey, I’m a hairdresser, I know gay. He ain’t gay.” I am floored but I don’t let it upset the evening. Tonight is for Babet. A rare gift for her to enjoy a night free of the worry or frustration of being locked inside every night and she seems more alive tonight than I have ever seen her. It’s a glorious sight, more intoxicating than our little yet monumental kiss in my warehouse. I want to see her this way, always.

The evening draws on and by midnight there are more people on the rooftop than there is space. Babet is not far from me all night, but I respectively give her the personal space she needs to mingle through the crowd without the dark giant demon flanking her. I feel it is apparent Babet is ready to leave, her emotions taking a down turn and I make my way over to her but I am stopped by Frankie. Her little hand barely grabs my arm to stop my stride, but quickly releases it when there is something off about the temperature of my skin.

She looks down at my arm and then up at me, her tone is coarse, “Look, she’s been through enough. I don’t know what you are trying to pull, but she is very important to us.” Frankie’s blue eyes are locked on mine and her tiny mouth is pressed into a hard line.

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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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For the two weeks, Estella and I keep guard over Babet, Scarlet and Henri at Audubon there is little to no advancement or declination in the family’s situation. We are either on rotating shifts or allowed mutual time with the young mother. Estella still had her obligations to the Queen, but I had gained exclusivity with Babet. I had been taken off collecting bounties until this was resolved.

It had been enlightening, refreshing and revelatory to spend quality time with Babet who seemed to have newfound peace, but every good must come to an end and I was in house the night she got a call from a Cruise Line business office. The children were asleep upstairs and silently I listened while she was informed of her mother’s disappearance while in Cozumel, Mexico.

Mrs. Bridgette Lancaster Beauregard had not returned to the ship from her dinner in the southern city the night before. Babet sat quietly sobbing with her hand to her mouth staring at the floor while the representative insensitively delivered the blow. In that moment all the reassuring conversations and hope that maybe this was coming to a close was diminished in her eyes. Intense thoughts raced behind those eyes, her life was still in peril, and the hands of whatever was after her had stretched its claws to her mother in another country. She sat, fixated on the work of art hanging high on the wall in front of her, and then she quickly looked to me.

“I just….don’t understand….I thought….I just have come so far and feel I have no more tears to cry” But her face revealed a different story and baubles of tears began to trickle down from her eyelid to her cheek. She stood up but I grabbed her before she could get far. I pressed her to my chest until the tension in her body ease into me and I felt her hands lightly grasp the lower part of my back.
I rested my chin on her head and my body began to tense as her scent filled me. I was determined not to give into my deepest, darkest desires; I just wanted to comfort her, as I had wanted to during all the early morning conversations between us.

I wanted to be the support she needed, without the complications of our natures. We stood embraced momentarily until I felt her pull slightly from me. I lifted my head to look down at her. Babet, stared into my eyes and this beautiful creature, so fragile, so human and so sad, made my cold heart, burn and ache. I wiped the tears from her eyes and brushed the hair back from her face, the tiny strands glued to it by her already dried tears.

“To cry”, I said and positioned my hands securely around her face, staring directly into her, “is to know you’re alive.” I hold her delicately before lowering my hands. She sniffed a couple of times before standing on her toes, closed her eyes and lifted herself to meet my face. She kissed me gently, her mouth so warm and soft, like two hot rose petals closing in on my lips. She kissed me again in this way and I felt her body flush with warmth, she then began to lower herself from her heightened status.

I opened my eyes expectantly as she landed flat on the floor, but before she could pull completely out of my arms I brought her back to me, leaned down and kissed her in return. My large hands encased her hair and the fragrance of her radiated from it. I didn’t linger in the kiss as I felt it was more of a comfort to her than an invitation for anything other than that, but I desperately wanted her. Her frailty enchanted me and challenged me. Before I could wrap my mind around what was happening between us she was back up to my level, her eyes closed and her mouth engulfed mine, her tongue swimming happily against mine.

I clasped my hands around her face, the warm silky texture of her skin gliding over my fingertips. I rounded my hand to her neck and pulled her closer, the nape an inferno. I pulled away from her, my mouth hung open and my teeth ran out, I tilted my head to take in Babet’s response. She stood staring at me panting and a slight smile came across her face. She licked her lips, swallowed and asked, “Can I?” Her hand reached up to touch my prominent teeth.

I didn’t move and her delicate little fingers stroked the inside and then outside of my extended canines. Our exchange was interrupted by the faint sound of cooing. Like lightning Babet turned her attention to the sounds, waiting to see if the baby continued. Henri must have been dreaming and Babet turned back to face me. The aura emitting from her changed from desire to embarrassment and she nervously laughed, then took a deep breath and blew out the air from her lungs, as if extinguishing a candle. My teeth retracted and I broke the silence, “I’m sorry.” I said.

Although I knew exactly what was overtaking the sensibility I had mastered during the centuries. I still didn’t want to leave her side. I wanted to never let her out of my sight, like the first night I saw her, keep her protected. I am also aware that subconsciously I wanted her for more selfish reasons than not. My compulsion was more than the simple vampire yearning. I felt a kinship to this woman, I could relate to her loss in her short years. She was like me, aside from her children, she was ultimately alone. But she had not lost these mortal ties naturally and I had to get beyond my own selfishness. I shifted back to face her once again, and her eyes, indifferent.

“They’re, “and she faltered in her speech and for a moment I was fearful that we were back to square one. But she surprises me constantly and tonight was no different, “So, sharp.” And she smiled, her own teeth showing a little more. I couldn’t help but return the gesture. For the remainder of the night I hold her, until the ever presence of dawn began to crest the Earth that would soon reach the tiny corner Babet and I had laid out for ourselves, I took my leave of her once it was apparent that she would be safe for the brief moments it would take to return to my haven.
The following evening I was to attend the Queen in Estella’s absence. I by no means would serve drinks and flit around the floor, but my existence at her side is a requirement I grew less and less obliged to. For some time I hungered for release from the Queen’s employment and the closer I would get to obtaining it, she drew me back to her side. Be it intrigue of what was at the time unknown to me. Once my curiosity fulfilled, I was instantly regretful of my decision. Her power is undeniable. Human and Vampire, we are all possessed by her. One look in her eyes and your addicted to her; our Queen.

My arrival to Morte is as it always is a quietly stealthy entry into the sacrificial chamber, positioning myself where I could observe the patronage and the Queen. Her grand arrival had already commenced and I greeted her, standing to her left as she nodded and returned her gaze to the floor below her throne of a balcony. She spoke directly at me but did not make my eyes.
“We have a guest Cian, someone I think you’ll recognize.”

Appearing at the Queen’s right shoulder stood my brother Keane. His sandy blonde hair a tousled mess. Stopping at his shoulders, long rogue strands hung in front of his piercing blue eyes. Keane. His attire much different from mine, my once brother in arms stood before me in an ebony Armani suit and striking tie; the garnet and crimson paisley design screaming from behind the prison of his fitted vest. His hands overlapped one another in front of him.

As if waiting for me to speak, he dropped his hands and began to come toward me. “Still an old hard stone, huh Cian?” the surprise rising in his voice.

I kept my guard and when he was close enough I smirked and said, “Old Dogs, Keane. Can’t teach us a thing.” We both laughed heartily and I grabbed by brother and brought him to me, he slapped my back and we separated.

“Good to see you my brother, it has been too long.” He remarked turning his finger at me.

I nodded, “Aye”, and after the moment of reunited bliss passed I became suspicious of Keane’s arrival into New Orleans. “What brings you to the city?”

“Ah, a most gracious invitation from her majesty brings me to your fair metropolis.” He says and while he does he bows courteously toward the Queen and in return she nods in his direction with a faint smile. I witness this exchange and before returning her concentration to her business she flashes me a glance that implies to me her pleasure in Keane. I resumed my position within the club, while Keane and Madliene discussed things only to themselves.

Once the festivities for the evening had officially died I excused myself from the Queen. With not only the urgency of appetite but a great longing to retreat from Keane, I knew he sensed my pace to be too hasty for my normality. Because no matter how long we have been apart, Keane knows me better than I know myself. He is someone I have known since childhood and we have bonded in more ways than any real or biological brothers could. We are kindred spirits he and I.

“Where you off to brother?” The echo of his baritone is uncanny in my head. I turn and stare for mere seconds, but in our world seconds are lifetimes and finally I tilt my head, motioning him to follow. He bows graciously to the Queen, taking her hand to kiss the back of it.
“If you will excuse me?” She of course gives her consent and Keane set out to join me at my flank, his original position when we were lads. We exit the Club through the back corridor.
He quickens his pace slightly to meet mine and we are striding together once again, exact footsteps, a single being with four legs clomping through the streets.

“Fed for the night?” I ask and in my peripheral I see a glint of bright white shine clearly against the night’s sky, Keane’s smile a definite sight for my sore eyes.

Keane and I fed; I, from a blood bag I obtained, while Keane took to the street to search out his perfect meal. By the time he returned to the townhouse procured for his stay and sat the statuesque human female on one of the overstuffed chairs residing in the corner of the large receiving room, I had long been satisfied. She was, of course, beautiful. The girl’s black hair is short, the bob haircut resembling that of a wig and most likely is. Her face is overly made up and the black around her ice blue eyes looks like fireplace soot, making the blue stand out that much more.
I continue to observe her calm behavior, more and more humans were becoming less and less wary of being in the presence of vampires and from the girl’s demeanor she had been in our type of company, plenty. From what I could see of her body, she bared no sign of being fed upon, but once she removed the jacket over her mini-dress it was apparent that she had spent more time with our kind than I had assumed. Her arms from shoulder to wrist, inside and out are marked, some wounds old, some new and scars on top of scars. She readjusted her seat, folded her hands in her lap and looked directly into my eyes, unafraid of whatever powers she thought me to possess.

“Name’s Shi, what’s yours?” she asked engaging me in conversation, while crossing her legs. Her face is pleasant and inviting.

“Cian.” My tone less than inviting.

“Nice, got a brother Abel?” she said and laughed at her own cleverness.

I didn’t reciprocate the feeling and she discontinued her jest, rolling her eyes and looking around the room for Keane’s location. But I could tell she was becoming uneasy sitting across from me and my seriousness. I didn’t begrudge Keane his preferences, he had his lifestyle and I chose mine, but I can honestly say I didn’t like conversing with someone who would soon cease to be. Keane reentered the great room and Shi’s eyes lit up.

Keane is a handsome vampire, like we all are. The man has eyes so intense they bore into your very soul. It’s his gift, soul searching, a vampire who can read the souls of others, humans and vampire alike. Very few soul searchers survive in our community. Vampires aren’t keen on the idea of another being able to see though them and the tales of other’s souls can break and wear down a reader.
The eyes of a soul searcher hold a kind of gentleness, I think of it as a catalyst for the reader, a welcoming feature allowing them to proceed; this all commences without the human or vampire’s knowledge and it’s very interesting to watch. This look has been described in our histories accounts as “puppy-dog eyes”.

Keane glides over to the girl, peering down and into Shi’s eyes. I instantly felt her body relax as he offered his hand, she takes it and is lifted her from her seat. Keane led her toward the spiral staircase central in the townhouse, I watch as he weightlessly slithers up guiding Shi. Her high heels clump up one and then two steps. Then the clopping turned into a whooshing sound as Keane whisked the girl up, my eyes can’t help but follow their path.
Just before crossing the threshold to the bedroom, he glances down the at me, smiles and I could see his teeth had run completely out. I couldn’t help but smirk and shake my head at him.
Keane emerged from the room, easily and quietly closing the door, he had not extinguished Shi’s life and was allowing the stranger to slumber in his temporary haven. I had to admit I wasn’t surprised, Keane had always been attentive; not only in battle but even after the wars, he never let the grief consume him so it showed to his younger siblings and his mother. His father, of course always knew what his son had endured and seen.

“She’ll be here for a day or so.” He said as he reached the bottom of the staircase. His suit slightly disheveled, the jacket and ornate tie were gone and the collar of his white dress shirt hung open. Since his shirt was still tucked into his pants I knew he had not had sex with the girl, but being as she would be in his haven for more than the night, it was definitely in his plans to do so. “I kinda like her, what do you think Cian?”

I nodded and stood up from my seat, beginning to feel that Keane’s presence was more than a simple visit to the Queen, be it by her request or not. “Now that you’re fed, I have a few questions for you, if I may, of course?” I said as he took Shi’s former seat.

His face turned from confused to inquisitive in a matter of seconds, “Sure Cian, Spanish Inquisition?”

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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.



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