The Vampire, The Witch & The Werewolf: A New Orleans Threesome

by Louisa Bacio

  “Do you know what it was like? Can you imagine? A child, abandoned. Alone. No one to care for me? No one to love me? With strangers. Everyone had a family, but me. And you've been alive all these years …”

  “Barely,” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  “I wouldn't call it living, what I've been doing.”

  Lily took in the surroundings once again, and took another step back, away from all that lay in front of her. It wasn't like she had found her long-lost mother in a luxurious tropical resort. Enslaved within hell, or on the outskirts of hell. What type of a life had she been living?

  As she took in the shackles encircling her mother's ankles and those binding her wrists, she thought of her own internal bonds, what held her back from fully living, from loving.

  “Did you ever think of me? Did you ever care?”

  “Every moment of every day,” she replied, looking at Lily with utter clarity in her eyes. “You kept me alive, and you were my best-kept secret.”

  “I don't understand. Why are you here? Don't you have powers? You should have escaped,” Lily said.

  Her mother raised her chin up, face drawn and pale as if it had been more than a decade since she'd seen the light of the sun. Black bags etched permanently beneath her washed-out blue eyes.

  “I may have sold my soul to the demon,” she said in explanation, “but I never sold yours.”

  “Then what am I doing here?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Trevor

  As soon as the demon escaped out the window with Lily, Trevor turned his attentions to Lawrence. There was no use chasing after them. He knew deep within his heart that he would never be able to catch the hell spawn, especially when he reached his own turf, wherever that may be.

  The best chance any of them had was Lawrence. His lover lay on the floor, and Trevor knew from one glance that he had lost way too much blood. Already the gaping wound in Law's neck had started to heal, but he would need some other sort of intervention if he were going to live.

  In the movies, all Trevor would have to do is open up his own vein and feed Lawrence. Near death, he would suck hungrily at the wound and begin to heal immediately. Reality, unfortunately, didn't work that way.

  Trevor briefly wondered if a vampire could turn into a ghost, and just as quickly, he banished those dark thoughts and instead picked up Lawrence's limp body. Trevor ignored the pounding in his head, and shriek of pain in his leg. Trevor may hurt, but he'd live. Lawrence was so far gone that he didn't even moan or whimper when lifted.

  “I have you, my love,” Trevor murmured. “We're going to make you better. You cannot die on me now. We need you.”

  Only one person could truly help Lawrence, and his lover would not like Trevor taking him there. He'd probably rather be dead, but Trevor didn't possess the strength to lose him.

  The Voodoo Priestess. Oh, yes, New Orleans housed its fair share of voodoo shops with their odd assortment of love spells and enchantments for money. Many who visited the city made sure to leave an offering on the grave of Marie Laveau. Legend held that a visitor could lay hands upon the tomb, and make a wish. If that wish came true, then the person had to return with an offering of thanks. Despite Law's warnings, Trevor had left his fair share of offerings. Trevor, though, had never yet visited the shops.

  There also had been a few people who had stolen the offerings that lay scattered around the family's crypt. Only bad endings came to those who stole from Marie Leveau, even in her death.

  While tourists could be seen trolling through the shop windows, an unseen world lay hidden in the alleyways. With a heavy heart, Trevor carried Lawrence's body through the darkened streets. He wondered what he'd be willing to offer in exchange for Lawrence's life. He feared more what would be requested.

  The sounds of music and drunken laughter floated back from Bourbon Street. The air reeked of spilled drinks and spilled stomachs. He stumbled over a section of uneven paving and righted himself. How those silly people could drink themselves to a sloppy oblivion, never really knowing what truly lived in the world. The closer he came to his final destination, the darker his mood grew. His arm wet from Law's spilled blood, Trevor wished there was another way, any way but this …

  A green light shone over the doorway, and, his mind firmly made up, Trevor didn't even hesitate before entering.

  A gaunt man with flame tattoos crawling up the sides of his neck guarded the door. His smile showed missing and blackened teeth. “Looks like someone's on the edge of hell,” he said.

  “I'm here for help,” Trevor said. “Will you let us enter?”

  “And who is asking admittance?” the man asked, more formally than expected. “What are ye names?”

  “I am Trevor Pack, and this man in my arms is Lawrence Justice.”

  A high-pitched voice called out from behind a beaded curtain. “Ah, Mr. Justice. Bring him through. I've been expecting his arrival for some time now.”

  The hairs on the back of Trevor's neck rose. Had this unseen woman had foreshadowed knowledge of Lawrence's death, and not said anything about it? Really, why should she? Lawrence shied away from the darker arts. Something about Voodoo frightened him.

  Some took it as a religion, and used it for good. Others lay on another side. Like anything, there were shades of gray. Bringing one back from death's door? Trevor was willing to cross that line.

  The beads easily parted, and Trevor's eyes adjusted to the darker lighting. An old African woman reclined in an easy chair, watching television. She turned it off quickly so Trevor wasn't able to quite catch the show, but somehow he grasped the impression of CSI, or another crime investigation show. At another time, the idea of a Voodoo priestess spending her time watching television rather than poring over spells would be funnier. Not now.

  “Lay him out on that cot over there,” she directed. “So the demon on his back finally got Mr. Justice, did he? And what about that pretty little witch that's been staying with you?”

  She did know more than he expected. “The demon took her,” he said.

  She tsked under her breath. “Such a shame. That won't do. You'll have to get her back, but first let's see what we can do about Mr. Justice, here.”

  Gently, Trevor placed Lawrence down. Most of his body paint had rubbed off, and his usual pallor looked even more washed out, as if he was made from cellophane. One tear and he'd crumble to dust.

  “What do you offer in exchange of these services?” she asked Trevor directly.

  Hope blossomed in his chest. “Can you save him?”

  “Perhaps, if the timing is right, and the spirits are with me tonight,” she replied. “And the price is right.”

  “What do you want? Money?” Trevor asked, already knowing that wouldn't be the case.

  She laughed. “If you want to pay someone money to save your man then take him to the hospital. Although, I reckon they won't do a whole lot of good. They might even tell you that he's already dead.”

  Trevor sat down heavily in a chair next to Lawrence's side, and lay his face in his hands, thinking. What could she want from him?

  “My services?” he said, questioningly. “Whatever you want, I'll do.”

  “Oooh, baby. I haven't had a young fresh body like yours do my biding in a long time,” she cackled. “But it's not your flesh that I'm wanting. Really, I'm not doing you the favor. This one's on Lawrence.”

  She pointed a long, slightly crooked index finger out to where the non-living vamp lay. “He's the one that's going to owe me.”

  “I don't have that type of power,” Trevor said. “Something from me, but Lawrence … how can I promise you something from him?”

  “Well then, I guess our business here is done,” she said, turning her back on the both of them with finality. “You might as well take his dead-ass carcass out of here because it's just about that time. Oh, and don't expect to be saving that fiery she-demon witch either without Mr. Justice's help,” she said, looking back over her s
houlder. “It's not something that you think you'd be able to do alone. She's going to need both of you.”

  Lily, Trevor thought. How could he lose both Lawrence and Lily? Lawrence may not be willing to be indebted to this priestess for his own good, but for Lily? That may be another story.

  “Wait,” he called out, standing up. “What's your price?”

  She turned around ever-so-slowly with a smile on her face, as if she knew all along it would come to this moment. “A favor. Mr. Justice will owe me one favor, collectible sometime in the future, whenever I shall wish.”

  “Done,” Trevor said, shaking her frail-feeling hand.

  He saw the knowledge of what he was asking in her eyes, and something else. “There is more,” she continued. “Bringing his soul back from the beyond will leave a vacuum, one that will need to be filled.”

  “I'm not sure what you mean,” Trevor said, considering the implications. “Does that mean that someone else will die because Lawrence lives?”

  “In a sense, but it doesn't have to be as direct as that. Once he died, and began to move on, a space was created for him. Now, you're pulling him back; yet, that space continues to exist on the other side.”

  He looked to Lawrence lying there, dead, completely without any of his life energy animating his features. Really, Trevor never had a choice. “What do I need to do?” he asked.

  “You'll know when the time comes,” Teresa said, with a note that indicated the conversation had completed.

  With a nod of agreement, Trevor acknowledged the pact. “Save him.”

  The Voodoo priestess Teresa stood over Lawrence, her arms lifted in the air, and her eyes closed. A tremor shook her body.

  “I feel his presence here. His spirit has left his battered body, but there's still time to bring him back.”

  “Oh, great ones. Listen to me. Help me guide Mr. Lawrence back into maybe not where he belongs … but where he's wanted.”

  The lights in the room flickered in unison and Trevor felt something else in the air—like a humming—tingling at his skin, causing goose bumps to rise along his bare arms. He shivered, and once again questioned bringing Lawrence here.

  A young woman came into the room from an unseen entrance. Her skin was so dark that she blended into the darkness of the room. She wore an emerald green shift—not really a dress, but more like a sarong. She passed so close to Trevor that he could see the whites of her eyes, and her full red lips turned up into a smile. She blinked slowly as she passed him. In her hands, she carried a medium-sized bowl, golden in tone, and the contents appeared to glow with life.

  Trevor stared at the contents, mesmerized and then again at the alluring woman who held the offering. In another time, in another place, he felt himself grow hard.

  “Mirabella,” the priestess said, holding out her hand toward the approaching woman. “Don't dawdle. Give me that.”

  With the harsh sound of the priestess’ voice, Trevor shook his head, clearing away the clutter. He didn't understand what was happening, but he certainly didn't need to be fantasizing about the help. He was here for a reason. It was as if he'd been under a spell, if just for a brief moment.

  “Your arm, please,” Teresa commanded.

  The woman named Mirabella hesitated, reaching her arm out and then as if thinking better about the action … bringing it back in close to her chest. Out of patience, Teresa grabbed hold of the younger woman's wrist and pulled her closer. From a shelf beneath the table, she pulled out a curved knife that glimmered. The priestess drew a line across the young woman's arm, and the blood quickly welled up.

  “The blood of innocence and purity to guide your soul …” she said, letting the blood drip into the bowl. Trevor could hear a slight hiss when the life force blended with the other ingredients.

  “Now, go clean yourself up, Mirabella,” the priestess released the woman, and she fell backward as if pushed with force.

  “Now it's your turn,” the priestess said, turning toward Trevor and holding out the scarab. “The blood of a loved one in order to bind his spirit to this earthly domain. We need to remind him why he must return.”

  Trevor crossed the room, and held out his own arm in sacrifice. Something in his demeanor tickled the woman since she laughed. “So eager to help your lover. Hopefully, you won't live to regret this action.”

  And then the knife sliced across his own skin, causing a gash of pain. He bit his lower lip, refusing to call out. The blood poured forth into the bowl and this time, being so close, he saw steam rise out of the contents. A noxious smell filled his nose and he had to step back, covering his mouth with his palm.

  “No time to be squeamish now,” Teresa said. “We must make your undead lover drink this concoction and see if we can make him undead again.”

  As Trevor moved closer to Law's head, he noticed that in the time that they had been at the priestess’ shop, the neck wound had completely healed. All the bruising on his face had faded away, and he looked at peace. A sharp stab cut into Trevor's heart, at the thought of bringing him back into the world filled with pain, but there was also love, and hope, and Lilianna needed them both.

  “Hold his head,” Teresa said. “He's probably not going to like this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lily

  “You're here because I wanted you,” another voice said from behind Lily.

  She turned, to be faced with the demon that had kidnapped her and brought her down into the bowels of hell. She had been so intent on talking to her mother, that she hadn't heard his approach. For a creature so big, he could also be stealthy.

  Her mother pulled against her bindings. “Arimanius, let her go. You have no need of her. You have me for eternity.”

  The smile that spread across the creature's face sent chills through Lily's body. “You haven't been so attentive to me lately,” he said. “Maybe I wanted something else pretty to play with.”

  He reached out as if to run a wicked nail across Lily's delicate skin, and she cringed away. “What I want to know is how you kept this delicate female from me all these years. And who did you mate with to create her? I always knew that you were untrustworthy, but I never took you to be a whore.”

  Julia shook as if his harsh words took a physical toll on her body. Somehow, though, she responded with strength in her voice.

  “You have no claim on her. Your contract is with me. Let her go.”

  “I won't go anywhere without you, mother,” Lily said. “I've been looking for you my entire life. I can't lose you now.”

  “Isn't this just precious,” Arimanius chuckled. “A mother-daughter reunion. Tell you what, why don't you, Lilianna, stay here and then you can spend as much time as you want with dear-old Momma.”

  He pulled on the chain wrapped around her waist, and Lily dug her heels into the ground, feeling the skin peel up even further, fighting against him. “Has your mother told you yet how she sold her soul for more powers? She wasn't happy with being a regular old witch. She wanted to be something different—a super witch. She didn't stipulate where she had to live, though,” he continued, laughing, “so she's super-powerful all right. Too bad she's trapped down here with me.”

  The explanation partially explained how Lily's powers seemed to be more than average. Somehow, she had inherited some of the additional traits from her mother. After Julia became a hybrid, she must have genetically passed the tendency to Lily. Either that, or there were further mutations, or she had inherited something from her father.

  She, too, wondered about her father. Now that she'd found her mother, maybe she'd learn even more about her heritage. First, though, they had to escape from the demon. More than fear, anger at the situation burned within her. Arimanius had kept her mother prisoner, he might have killed Lawrence, and now he meant to keep her and do who knows what to her.

  “It's a good thing, too, that you never had sex,” the demon said, “or else your ties to me would have been broken. Now, you can be mine.”

>   The meaning of his words horrified Lily. She felt the power build within her. If only she knew how to unleash it. To harness the energy. Frustrated, she screamed in rage. The metal chains around her waist grew warm, and a fiery red fusion spread from the links closest to her outward, toward the demon holding the other end of the chain. In fascination, Lily watched the hotness get closer and closer to Arimanius, until it reached his hands, and it was his turn to howl in pain. Smoke rose from his open palms, and he looked upon Lily in a mixture of wonder and surprise.

  “You will pay for that, young one. Don't think you can win against me.”

  Muscles bulging, he charged toward Lily, and she braced for the impact.

  Her mother stepped between them, stopping him. Julia caressed Arimanius's chest, and soothed him.

  “Ari, love, leave her alone. She's inexperienced. She doesn't know how to please you,” Julia cooed. “I'm the one who has been with you all these years. I know what you like.”

  She twisted one of Ari's nipples between her fingers, and dropped her other hand between his legs. A massive purple cock with a swollen head bulged out. Julia's pale fingers contrasted against the demon's dick. Yet, with each stroke he closed his eyes. The tip of his dick glistened with a slick substance, and it took every bit of Lily's self-control not to gag and break the magic her mother conjured.

  With her eyes, Julia gestured for Lilianna to get away. To run. And just like she did with the two men who had tried to save her, Lily mouthed “no.” She would not abandon her mother to the demon.

  “You know how much I've been wanting your cock, Ari,” Julia said. “You've left me alone for so long. I've missed you. I've missed being filled by you.”

  She continued to stroke him, and leaned over to lick the head of his cock. As if entranced, he moaned but continued to keep his eyes shut.

  “You know when you're gone for so long, I touch myself and think of you. But nothing turns me on like actually having you.”