“How noble of you… Monsieur Freeman,” I said, rolling my eyes, and doing my best impression of Nico’s accent. In truth, I think that was the first time I knew Nico had a last name at all. I’d only known him as Nico. Or, Niccolo the Damned. Niccolo Freeman was, I had to admit, a far less spine-chilling moniker.
“Like I said, you two enjoy yourselves. And behave…”
“Yes, sir,” I said, grinning as I licked my fangs.
Ramon offered me his arm, and I hooked mine in his as we stepped out into the night. He snapped his fingers, and before I knew it a stagecoach arrived.
Ramon extended his hand and helped me inside before joining me. “Prepare to behold the wonders of New Orleans.”
“I can’t wait,” I said. “Is the cuisine here as… spicy as I hear?”
“The spiciest!” Ramon said, picking up on the fact that I wasn’t referring to gumbo. “And perhaps by night’s end, I could steal your heart.”
I shrugged. “If I had a heart to steal.”
“Ah yes, I heard as much of you.”
“When did Nico tell you about me?”
“Oh, not from Nico. From your brother!”
“My brother? He’s dead…”
“Precisely, ma chérie! But I spend most of my time under the stake.”
“In hell?”
“I prefer to call it my home away from home.”
“And you talked to Edwin?”
“But of course I did,” Ramon said. “A mortal soul inhabiting the domain of… hell, as you call it, reserved for the spirits of our kind, naturally piqued my curiosity.”
“How is he?” I asked.
“About as well as can be expected, all things considered. He has quite the rage, though. I must say, he’s none too pleased about what you did to him.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him…”
Ramon looked at me incredulously. “You are a baby vampire! Of course you did. But never mind that. I do not judge you for it.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” I said. “I’m judging myself for it well enough.”
“You must let it go, mademoiselle. You should not feel shame over what you are.”
“A killer, you mean?”
“Tell me, ma chérie. When you were a human, have you ever eaten a ham? Or perhaps a well-cut beef?”
“Sure,” I said, shrugging.
“This is no different.”
“How is it not different? We kill people… human beings…”
“Humans slaughter animals without a second thought… why? I’ll tell you why. Because they exist that you might live. They are meant to be your food. It is but the natural order, ma chérie. Nothing has changed now that you are a vampire. Only that you are now superior to them, you are the hunter and they are your prey. They exist, as a cow or pig might for a human, that you might be satiated.”
I huffed. “But I never had a cow or a pig as my own brother. There’s a difference.”
“Perhaps,” Ramon said. “But now you have no more kin, no other human to whom you have such attachments. Consider it a blessing, ma petite chou chou.”
“What does that mean?”
“My little cabbage.”
“So now you’re calling me food, too?”
“It is but an expression. I would not dare to eat you. Such would be an abomination. Though I wouldn’t mind a taste, of course.”
I chuckled. “Well, aren’t you bold?”
“Immortality is much easier, I should say, if you simply say what it is you desire. Why worry if you cause an offense? Time heals such things… and that is one thing you have enough of to spare.”
“I wasn’t offended,” I said, smiling. “It’s just the boys where I’m from aren’t so direct. But I could get used to it.”
13
WE PULLED UP beside what I presumed was a brothel. “Is this one of Nico’s establishments?”
“Of course not,” Ramon said. “Monsieur Freeman forbids us from sampling those in his employ.”
“Good to know,” I said. “I’d hate to get on my sire’s bad side.”
“He is not one to be trifled with,” Ramon said. “It is only by his good graces that he’s kept me around as long as he has.”
“On account of your murderousness?”
Ramon nodded. “I prefer to call it… my healthy appetite. My mother… my human mother, that is… always insisted I clean my plate. I should say that her lesson has simply carried over into my present life. It is not murder, ma chérie. After all, there are starving vampires in China who would kill to eat like we do.”
“I see you have jokes today,” I said.
“Oui, oui. I’ll be here all week. At least, I hope so. One week is about my average.”
We dismounted the coach and stepped inside the building. Girls were everywhere—I’d never seen so much leg in my life. A man in a three-piece suit greeted us at the door, a wide smile on his face. He kissed Ramon on either cheek. “Monsieur Ramon! It is not like you to bring a lady…”
“Name’s Mercy,” I said.
“And does Mercy have a particular girl in mind? Or perhaps she is looking for work?”
“We desire a ménage à trois, Monsieur Harker. Perhaps you could land us a harlot with… flexibility, if you know what I mean?”
“But of course. I have just the one in mind for you both!” the man exclaimed with a hint of giddiness in his voice.
I nudged Ramon. “You intend for us to share a meal?”
“This is just a taste. An appetizer, if you will. We have many more places to go, ma chérie! But Monsieur Harker has the finest-tasting harlots in town.”
A few seconds later, Harker returned with a girl on his arm. She did, I had to admit, have a certain beauty about her. I’d put her a year or two older than me, long, dark hair hanging to her thin waist. I’m sure she had other features that would garner the attentions of men, but I was focused on her neck. A nice long neck, easy to access.
“Delilah,” Harker said, “is well experienced with your particular predilections. She will not disappoint!”
Delilah glanced at me over her shoulder and flashed a seductive smile, which I took as an invitation to follow. She guided Ramon and myself to a small room—with a giant bed. It smelled of lavender.
Delilah extended her wrist. Ramon took it and sank his fangs into it.
I scrunched my brow. “We don’t have to use our allure?”
Ramon looked up, a little bit of crazy in his eyes. “Of course not, ma chérie! What kind of brothel did you think I was taking you to?’
“Wait,” I said, “this is a brothel… for vampires?”
“But of course! Choose your favorite tap, ma chérie!”
I narrowed my eyes. I hadn’t even thought about trying anything other than the neck. I grabbed her other wrist and bit—blood poured into my mouth. It wasn’t a gushing flow, as when I drank from the neck, but as Ramon indicated, Delilah was an appetizer.
The slower blood flow allowed me to savor the flavor which, when I typically drank from the neck, was difficult to do. The flood so often was too quick, and the frenzy took over. It struck me that taking lessons on moderation from Ramon was sort of like accepting counsel on romance from Jack the Ripper. Nonetheless, Ramon was right—and he sure knew how to pick his spots. Delilah was, indeed, a spicy human.
Delilah sighed in ecstasy as Ramon and I drank from her wrists.
Ramon released his fangs and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “That’s enough, ma chérie. We mustn’t allow ourselves to lose control. Not here, at least… we won’t be welcomed back if we do.” I took a last gulp and released Delilah, her wrist healing even as I was still licking her blood from my lips.
“It is my preference,” Ramon said, “to begin with the most refined and savory of our samplings at the beginning of the night. Once the taste sets in, I find, my palate is saturated and it matters little the quality of the donor.”
“The donor?” I asked.
“A much less dreadful word than victim, don’t you think? Many such as these”—Ramon casually handed Delilah a roll of bills—“are hardly victims at all. They give of themselves willingly for a modest price. Besides, would you call a filet mignon a bovine victim? Non, chérie! You would call it… exquisite! Gourmet, perhaps. But a victim? Mais non!”
Ramon had a certain refined way that he talked about our hunt that made it more thrilling. As we went from spot to spot in the city, sampling various delicacies, it really felt like I was a part of high vampire society. Not that the vampire community in New Orleans was all that large—a hundred or so at most—but it was a community that had managed to create its own underground culture, its own vampiric enterprises, like the “brothel” we’d visited before.
There was a curious magic shop catering to our needs, which drew may attentions right away: Caplata Antoinette’s—apparently a Caplata is something of a recluse practitioner of Voodoo, one who dabbles in what most vodouisants consider forbidden.
As a witch, exploring Caplata Antoinette’s wares was naturally intriguing. Though I should say, it struck me that the sort of magic she dabbled in was something altogether foreign to me. She didn’t have wands, cauldrons, or spell books. Not the sorts of things I’d fantasize would be in a witch’s store, aside from a wide variety of herbs which were, apparently, useful in both our crafts. But she did have an intriguing collection of Voodoo dolls, shrunken heads, candles, and oils.
Stepping into the place made Ramon visibly nervous. I practically had to drag him inside.
“Welcome, friends!” Caplata Antoinette—at least, that’s who I presumed she was based on the name on the outside of her building—said, smiling wide, her arms wide open.
Apparently she greeted her customers with a hug. Not the way most are inclined to greet those they know to be vampires.
“Ahh,” Antoinette said as we casually embraced. “A powerful youngling… but there is something else about you, no… something you lack… something that sets you apart from your kind.”
“I’m heartless,” I said.
Antoinette narrowed her eyes. “Ah, I see. I see. And you are a witch, are you not?”
I nodded. “At least I was… My mentor, she died. Killed by the Order of the Morning Dawn.”
“I see, I see,” Antoinette said. “And I sense you seek revenge…”
I bit my lip and nodded.
“And you will have your chance, youngling,” Antoinette said. “You and I are not unalike. Both different than the rest… both wielding a power that frightens the rest of our kind.”
“What’s a Caplata, anyway?” I asked.
“Unlike the Mambos, we have no discrimination against the full expression of our craft. The Mambos operate as though they have one hand tied behind their backs. As if they fear what their other hand might do if freed. But I, a Caplata, practice with both hands. I do not fear what my second hand can do. But I find when I use both hands together I can do much more than with but one.”
“That make sense,” I said.
“Tell me,” Antoinette said, “I can sense there is someone you seek… a boy… a lost soul…”
I scrunched my brow. “How do you know about that?”
“My met-tet reveals many things to me, my girl.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t know what a met-tet was, perhaps a familiar of some kind who revealed things to the Caplata? “My brother,” I said. “He was condemned in exchange for my immortality.”
“Ah yes,” Antoinette said, pressing her hands together. “He does not belong where he has gone. I must warn you, my girl, if your brother’s damnation is what sustains you, then you must be wary should he ever find a way out of the hell where he currently resides.”
“Is that likely to happen?”
“Likely, yes. How long it might take, I cannot say. Perhaps a week. Perhaps a century or more. But an undamned soul cannot be contained forever, my girl… that is, not where he is presently.”
“What do you mean, ‘not where he is presently?’ There’s a way to contain him… to make sure he doesn’t move on to heaven?”
“Indeed, my girl. But it can only be done as he prepares to escape his hell, as he reaches to the in-between. You must at that moment be there with him. You must capture him in a fetish.”
I bit my lip. “I’m not sure I can go there. I don’t have a heart that can be staked… Can I send someone else?” I asked, glancing toward Ramon—no one knew hell better than him.
“I’m afraid not,” Caplata Antoinette said. “You must bind him using the part of you that he presently holds.”
“In a fetish, you say? I don’t even know what that is…”
“Here, my girl,” Caplata Antoinette said as she handed me a odd-looking totem of some kind. It was black, and it had a strange face carved into it with its tongue extended. Its eyes were red, not unlike my own. “If the need should arise, this should help you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “How much do I owe you for this?”
“It’s on the house, my child. Just remember that the Caplata is your friend, yes? If you dare to go there, you will need someone who can take you there. Someone who can bid your appeal to the crossroads Loa.”
“I won’t forget it,” I said. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure, my girl.”
14
RAMON AGREED: THE next time he went to hell, and every time thereafter, he’d make sure to draw close to my brother. He’d befriend him. Play the spy on my behalf and let me know if he ever seemed close to finding his way out. I still didn’t know how I’d get there. The Caplata didn’t charge me for the fetish, but accessing hell—going through the “crossroads,” as she put it—wouldn’t come gratis.
At least for now, though, we were in good shape. The last Ramon knew, Edwin hadn’t even started to explore ways of escape, and as Caplata Antoinette said, it could be centuries before he did. Tonight, we were going to have fun. And so far, my little outing with Ramon had proven both thrilling and enlightening. But our next stop—this was where we’d let loose, apparently.
Knowing Ramon’s reputation, I wasn’t sure if I should dread it or look forward to it.
“Come, ma chérie. Let me show you how we dine in New Orleans.”
Again, I hooked my hand in Ramon’s arm and he led me through what looked like a rather plain door. Clearly this wasn’t a vampire joint. But the booze was flowing. It didn’t take long before Ramon had a bottle in his hand. He tipped it to his mouth and chugged—yes, he chugged what I figured must’ve been rum. He handed me the bottle.
I took a small sip. The hallucinations started immediately—multicolored lights spinning around the room. I could only imagine what Ramon was seeing after downing a third of the bottle in a single swig.
“Take your pick!” Ramon said. “A feast fit for gods.”
I raised an eyebrow. Was Ramon calling us gods? I could only imagine what he was seeing under the influence. We briefly went our separate ways so we could stalk our prey. I found a nice, baby-faced but well-intoxicated creole man. It wasn’t long before I’d lured him around a corner. When I was done, I left him passed out in the corner. I looked around. Where had Ramon gone?
I pushed myself through the crowd of human revelers. Men were clapping and singing what I could only assume were drinking songs. People were dancing—and I don’t think there was a sober soul in the house. I kept looking… Where the hell did he go?
I stepped outside.
I heard a female scream. It was one of those blood-curdling screams that comes when one is struck with utter terror. I quickly ran to the source—just down an alley next to the building where we’d gone.
There stood Ramon—a woman’s leg in his hand… just a leg. He’d ripped it from her body and was gorging on the wound. And there was another woman tied up in the corner next to the mangled corpse of what must’ve been her friend.
“Ramon! What the fuck?”
“Give it a t
aste, ma chérie!”
“No…” I said. I quickly grabbed Ramon’s bottle, which lay on its side on the ground. There wasn’t much in it, but it would be enough. I stared at the cowering woman. “Take a drink,” I said, hoping my allure would calm her enough to do as I’d said.
She did, and I bit her. I drank as Nico had taught me—just enough that she’d pass out. She’d wake up to a genuine horror. Her friend dismembered, and blood everywhere. But hopefully she wouldn’t remember what had happened.
“More!” Ramon said. “I must have more!”
I ran as fast as I could move back into the bar, tossed a man off his chair, and broke off one of the legs. I ran back outside and found Ramon now gnawing on one of the poor woman’s arms. I plunged the chair leg into his chest.
For a moment he looked at me, seemingly confused. “Ma chérie?”
He collapsed.
Thankfully, I was strong enough to carry him… but it still wasn’t a pleasant haul back to Casa do Diabo. I quickly buried him in his usual spot, by the lime tree in the courtyard, and returned to dispose of the body he’d left behind. Thankfully, no one had discovered it yet.
I returned again to Casa do Diabo… I needed a change of clothes, and the closets here were full of outfits for both men and women. I didn’t know who they belonged to, but I found something that looked comfortable and laid on the bed. After the night’s insanity, daytime couldn’t come soon enough…
NICO WAS VISIBLY distraught—he had the kind of look a parent might have when they realize their child is a lost cause. “That’s it,” Nico said. “We have to burn his heart.”
“No,” I said. “We can’t.”
Nico shrugged. “He’s dangerous, Mercy. He usually makes it more than one night before he turns homicidal.”
“But I need him… I need someone who can keep an eye on Edwin in hell.”
Nico scrunched his brow. “Why?”
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