Considering her bath time activities and her lack of self-preservation, I am insistent to follow Babet to her destination. In the city she is a relatively safe driver; evasive is a kind word for her driving style on the 90. She weaves in and out of traffic, like Steve McQueen in the Italian Job or an undercover cop in hot pursuit. I am irritated at the speed I have to maintain to keep up with her and surprisingly I am slightly impressed with her ability. If I didn’t know better I would assume she was aware I was following her and was attempting to allude me, but she isn’t and it’s a revelation into Babet Benoit.
Her car pulls into the driveway of a small house on the outskirts of Baton Rouge almost an hour from New Orleans. The humidity was high this evening and as she emerged from the car, keys in hand the wet spot from her hair run down the back of her shirt to the small of her back, clinging to her skin. She leapt over the three stairs at the front door. She doesn’t knock; entering with a shout that she had arrived.

A lighthearted conversation between Babet and the owner was brief and she emerged from the house, joined by a 12 to 14 year old girl with short, bright cherry hair and freckles, I assumed to be Scarlet; walking beside her and a boy around 2 saddled to her hip. She scolded the girl for not having her homework done before her arrival as the baby coed and batted her chest in excitement.

The young girl sucked in a deep breath and angrily got into the car while Babet buckled the boy into the back seat. She shut the back door and made her way around the car to the driver’s side, stopping short to take a deep breath before entering the car and no doubt a hostile conversation. I watched as her car pulled out of the drive and onto the road but I didn’t follow.

At that moment I made the conscious decision not to pursue her any longer tonight, or any night. If I continue it will be discovered putting her and now her children in danger. I couldn’t justify any of it. Besides I still had a job to do for The Queen.

I make my way back to my haven, my rash decision vexing me further. I reach the deserted warehouse to an envelope halfway shoved under my door, I reached down and grabbed it with haste and stood at the entry door listening for footsteps or any indication that whoever left this was still in the area. There are not many who know where I reside and I didn’t like being known by someone leaving anonymous envelopes under my door.

I got into the elevator to go up to the 5th floor and fling the gate up realizing the wheels needed greasing. I was the only thing in this entire fucking warehouse that didn’t require repair. I stepped out and flipped open the envelope, inside a manila folder crammed with papers. The note stuck to the outside cover of the file folder read: “see Flannaghan, M.”

I tossed the file landing on top of my box and removed all my nights gear to get comfortable for the dawn; I drew up the strings of my medical scrubs and sat down on the top of my box. I opened the file to papers here and there from different time periods; no real order to any of it and I cursed my queen in Gaelic as I began to attempt to read his bio. I realized I had heard of this vampire but I had never come in personal contact him with before.

Flannaghan was a bastard, Irish born and made in the 5 points district of New York by a vampire named Alastair, the King of vampires at the time. Back when the streets of the Big Apple were made of mud… and blood.

In the 1830’s the city was named for its 5 districts or Burroughs, formally called the Sixth Ward the streets of 5 points were named Mulberry, Cross, which is now called Park, Orange, now called Baxter, Anthony, now called Worth and Little Water St. which no longer exists, the streets surrounding 5 points were Reade St to the south, West St. to the west, North by Canal St. and to the east, Broadway.

A tender box waiting to erupt, each district spawned a gang headed by a single person pitting one against the other. Even reaching down to the policeman, who took his bribe for silence, and the fire-fighters who argued with one another over which district was to extinguish the fire while an owner’s house burned in front of them. It was disgusting to see such a beautiful new country start out this way, although it had and would and through these trials and tribulations became the city to be coined one of the greatest on Earth. Alastair was head of the American vampires of that time, while other vampires of other races graced the shores of Ellis Island chose their gangs and acted accordingly in the city that never sleeps.

Every group had different names, words of slang that would be deemed extremely offensive today. Immigrants of many countries came together in the 5 points, Chinese, Irish (many different dialects), Polish, German, Italians and Americans born in 5 points all against each other for different reasons. All wanted peace, a place in the new world and an opportunity to prosper. Unfortunately every group’s idea of prosperity was very different. Even if the prosperity they were to seek had to happen out of dilapidated and condemned housing. Many of the immigrant families packed together in small spaces above and below ground.
The “Old Brewery” being one of these places. The building in colonial times had been a brewery and was a well known landmark in the neighborhood. It was said that as many as a thousand impoverished people lived in the “Old Brewery”, there was great speculation that the place was riddled with prostitution, gambling and illegal saloons. The building was torn down in the 1850’s with the site being obtained by a mission whose purpose was supposed to be helping the poor.
Personally I feel Dickens had it too right, “all that is loathsome, drooping, and decayed is here.”

Flannaghan who hated his heritage for one reason or another was made and hired as a killer, killer of his fellow Irish vampires; for Alistair. Leader of the American vampire community; Alistair wanted no part of the Irish blood to flow in New York other than out of the vampire and into the street. A ruthless businessman and a bloodthirsty vampire, he ruled with iron fangs. No one dare cross him, until one vampire saw opportunity when Alistair crossed her path.

The year was 1852 and Madliene had arrived into town under the ruse of being an immigrant straight from Ireland, as the Irish were coming in droves from the famine torn Country. Manhattan was a dirty place; streets were rows of mud along newly built bought businesses, erected from wood on some areas, brick in others, bars, restaurants, clothing shops, money lenders, churches, all lining the street with the occasional “brothel” or opium den.

The brothel, a business venture the Queen put her mind to as soon as her shoes hit the dirt. She became one of the most well known madams in New York. Going by the name Mae she was the woman to see for all your carnal “arrangements”. She employed vampire and human “ladies of the evening” for parties attended by all types of people and vampires; immigrants, business owners, politicians, anyone with the money to participate and money was a hard thing to come by.

People did any and everything to obtain coin from singing and playing music in the street to hustling or “pick-pocketing” of all different kinds. You had to be crafty in those days, hell you have to be crafty now. The gangs stole from everyone. Ships came in and were looted before there was any chance of unloading. Accidents, murder, could be covered up by selling the body to “science”; another way to make quick money. Mae’s fortunes fervently grew and her name caught the ear of the established ruler.

A brutal tyrant, Alistair, like the Queen, is also untraceable. He is said to be as old if not older than the she and there are rumors of him being the original vampire.

Alistair had Flannaghan threaten anyone who dared consider usurping the King’s power. His tactics were archaic but the community respected him, so not to be caught up in the dangerous presence of the King’s number one man. Alistair was paranoid and with good reason, there were plots and plans to overthrow him in that time. But nothing came to fruition until our brilliant Queen found his ultimate weakness. It was a certain urge that brought forth Alistair’s downfall, his pension for boys was a greatly concealed secret until he began frequenting Mae’s brothel.

One night while “drinking” at the bar, Alistair sat observing the crowd; his proverbial wheels turning. The place was full and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves which meant money was flowing. Mae had it all in her place. Live music and singing, vast amounts of drinking, card games and fights in dark corners; be it boxing, cock or dog. There is betting, of course. Taking all this in, he had made up his mind that he would attempt to get his greedy hands involved in Mae’s operation. Seeing as she was a mere woman and “needed” professional male guidance. Alistair was as ignorant to Mae’s history and age as she was to his. They met secretly prior to dawn.

A bargain, he would “mentor” her in her business dealings, telling everyone that he was doing so, for reputation purposes; his. In return she would provide him with “specific” company. Playing to his ego she made a similar deal. He could “mentor” her all he wanted and continue to broadcast it to the city, however she was free to quietly disregard his advice at her choosing, but he was to at least pay the girl for her company; provided she obliged his fetishes. A win-win situation in Mae’s opinion and the knowledge gained was more than payment enough.

Mae arranged for the King to enjoy the company of a vampire named Samantha, who Mae introduced to Alistair as “Sam”. Sam was thin, a rail of a girl with small breasts. Her hair was bobbed, short and black. She was definitely not the average female employee of Mae’s and Alistair seemed visibly pleased with the selection. This move in itself was careless on Alistair’s part as no one was ever interested in bedding Sam.

The poor girl who unfortunately resembled a 10 year old boy resorted to helping the bartender most nights, serving the vampire King regularly but tonight he seemed not to recognize her. In that time the average red-blooded American male wanted a bountiful woman with robustness and feminine wilds. Sam was none of these things but she was smart and knew how to please a man the way he wanted to be pleased, a girl with an affinity for fetishes.

After a few encounters and known trust of the vampire King Sam began to spread her bedtime tales with Alistair amongst the other women at Mae’s and from there the flood gates opened. The women began to talk to their regular bedmates; politicians, commoners, and various others. It didn’t take long; the tales coursed through the 5 points like wildfire. Of how Alistair wanted Sam to dress and behave a special way to satisfy his urges.

A newsboy hat and trousers or suspenders and boxer shorts and my favorite I heard read; he made her dress as an altar boy. Sam didn’t mind since he entered her where a man is supposed to enter a woman and he paid top dollar, even bringing her small gifts occasionally.

Another downfall of Alistair’s, he trusted Sam. Never once did he invoke his power and demand she keep his secrets. His assumption, of the fear surrounding him, absolved him of any disclosure agreement with her; a catastrophic mistake. An age old lesson, women talk, whether or not you see the person who keeps your secrets as a woman, is your malfunction.

Alistair was conceded, arrogant and egotistical. This charm was part of how he obtained his rank. In those days it was nothing for him to squeeze the head off a human or vampire for his meal. If crossed the vampire King’s favorite instrument of torture was his own teeth. He didn’t resort to knives or guns of any kind, preferring to keep it primal. This also reminded the community of his great age. A King’s greatest conundrum, Is it better to be loved or feared? Feared, was Alistair’s answer. But not with Sam.

After extensive word got out that Alistair bedded the androgynous Sam, in that day and age no matter how liberal a vampire or human may be that sort of behavior was simply not accepted; both sides discontinued business with Alistair, he and his associate Flannaghan disappeared after the lynching and burning of his taverns and general store. Nothing heard from either of them since that time.

Slavery was abolished and free African Americans up north lived amongst the immigrants of the world in 5 points. As the war drew on a draft went into effect and Irish immigrants made up a number of the soldiers being shipped off to fight. Wooden coffins, holding the bodies of the brothers of war, left the ship returning from the South. Irish immigrants forced to become soldiers, clad in Union gear replaced them.

The draft riot in New York at the height of the Civil War was enough to drive all the vampires out of the city and that is just what transpired. The vampire community left peacefully in the night after the fall of Alistair. The human populace still had a great deal to contend with. The poor classes were forced to register with the city and once called shipped down to the South to secure the victory of the Union. Most of these immigrants were poor Irish, resented the institution.

In 1863 at the climax of the Civil War, just days after the final battle of Gettysburg the streets of Manhattan, New York boiled over from the slums of 5 points. Riots erupted into battles throughout parts of the city uptown. The poor violently looted and attacked the rich eventually turning their misguided rage toward African-Americans. Federal Troops were brought in to assist the police to combat the pitch battles but the people fought back. By the end of the fray, buildings were burned to the ground and the streets were lined with corpses.

The American populace that followed the war through few media outlets were shocked and dismayed to see that the largest city in the free world had been consumed in its own battle.

In the past hundred years the 5 points has ultimately disappeared, streets have been redirected and buildings have been erected on a place the entire world knew as a slum.

Flannaghan’s file was full of images from that time, including a few of his victims, most of them Irish immigrants and the occasional African-American. I felt my body stiffen and as I turned to face the window wall I realized it was ten minutes until dawn, I could see the black of night had become the blue and gray of early morning.

I unlocked my box to get inside, the file folder accompanying me upon my decent into suspension. I was intrigued as to why the Queen wanted my undivided attention in this matter and why this wasn’t given to me while I was at the club. At sunset I would return to find out.

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