by Cd Hussey
"Let me get you a wheel-chair."
"I don't need one," Eve snapped. The woman didn't budge. "Whatever. I'll do it myself."
This night couldn't get any worse. First, Armand's rejection at Luxure, then she's brought to this germ-infested hellhole, and now, this stupid sow wouldn't give her a hand.
And to top it off, her skin felt like it was crawling as excess blood pooled and squirmed in her veins. She had to get out of here. Now.
It was laborious and it certainly wasn't graceful, but Eve managed to heave herself out of the rock-hard chair.
"Shawna, the labs are back from your patient in 20. You wanna take a look at them?"
While the nurse was briefly distracted, Eve made it across the bustling waiting room. She'd almost completed her escape when the nurse cried, "Miss, wait!"
As luck would have it, a crash cart rushed by just as Eve was stumbling through the emergency room doors. "Car accident," the EMS worker was saying, "male, early 20's-"
The glass doors whooshed closed behind her. No one followed her out. It appeared the plump nurse was held up in the confusion.
Eve staggered through the dimly lit downtown streets. If she could get back to the Quarter, she could find someone to help her. All this blood was making her body heavy.
She tried hailing a cab a couple of times, but her lead filled arms were always too slow to respond quickly enough when one passed. So she continued her journey on unsteady legs. No one paid any attention to her as she tottered along, confusing her with the multitude of drunks stumbling about.
Finally, she crossed the chaos of Canal St. and emerged, relieved, on a dark, quiet street. She'd barely traveled 100ft when she saw her salvation.
"Darus," she breathed. A single oil lantern barely illuminated the sidewalk where he stood, and her vision was blurred for some reason, but the long dreads and top hat gave his identity away.
He eyed her curiously as she lurched towards him. Those last feet were the most exhausting steps she'd ever traveled. He needed to take from her now, before it was too late.
She clutched at his velvet coat. "Darus, please, you have to drink from me. I'm so full I can't stand it."
He cocked his head. "We can go back to my place..."
"No. Here. Now. Just bite me! I can't take it any longer. My skin feels like it's going to burst."
Darus studied her for a moment, then scanned the dark street in both directions before pulling her out of the light and onto a shadowy stoop. As soon as his sharp teeth sank into her flesh, Eve let out a blissful moan and then everything went dark.
* * *
Julia's dreams that night were filled with dark, morbid thoughts that had nothing to do with airplanes or elevators. Instead, vampires danced through her dreams. They weren't the tattered soul, redemption seeking type that only feasted on wild animals or bought blood from a bank. No, these were the vampires that stalked their victims down the dark streets of New Orleans to drink them dry. The kind that lured their victims in with sexual prowess only to feast on their fluids until nothing but a withered corpse remained.
They certainly weren't the sexy blood drinkers in her books.
Well...
The most vivid and last dream she had took place at Luxure. The low ceiling and painted black walls were oppressive as the pulsing bass vibrated through her spine. Julia was on the dance floor, her body a supple, writhing form sandwiched between other undulating bodies. Her red silk dress slid across her skin like a lover's embrace, caressing her thighs with every sway of her hips.
The music pulsed stronger, becoming harder, more intense. Behind her, strobe lights flickered, breaking up every movement in the bar into broken, confusing images. A door opened slowly and Armand emerged from the hidden room, a limp form with tattered red hair cradled in his arms. Pin-up girl was pressed against his side, her perfect curves molded to every void in his muscular body.
Armand's gaze flickered across Julia. He grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth in a menacing smile. The music surged and he dove for the limp girl's neck, his teeth sinking into her flesh like a hot knife through butter. His victim gasped, arching her back in what looked like ecstasy as Armand took long, hard draws from her flesh. Pin-up girl moaned in approval, grinding into him and running her hands over his chest and down his arms.
Finally, the woman's body stilled and Armand lifted his head from her neck, blood trickling over his full lips and onto his strong chin. His eyes snapped open and locked on Julia from beneath his dark brow. He released the woman, her colorless body falling into a motionless heap at his feet.
Stepping over the body, he came for Julia. His eyes were locked on her and he wore a mischievous, blood smeared grin. Even though her mind told her she should be scared, that she needed to run, her body refused to obey. She was unable to stop dancing, the music commanding her, driving her. Even as Armand stalked nearer, her body merely heaved harder. She wanted to be frightened. She wanted to scream in terror, but his intense hazel gaze refused to let those emotions in.
In perfect rhythm, Armand matched the sway of her body, pressing his hips into hers. Any fear was immediately turned into a stabbing heat that started at the spot where his erection was pushed against her and quickly spread through her body.
He grabbed her face and pulled her in for a searing kiss that tasted sweet and metallic. The kiss lasted long enough to rob Julia of her breath, and then, using her hair, he yanked her head back, exposing her neck.
The pain was quick, sharp, and startled Julia out of the dream. She blinked in the darkness, trying to get a handle on where she was and whether or not she was dead.
A quick swipe across her neck and the smooth skin her fingers found reassured her it was only a dream.
Kicking off the covers, Julia stumbled across the room. The details of her hotel room and the strange events of the last few days slowly pushed the fog from her head. Sliding open the window, the cool, moist air that rushed in wiped out the remainder. The chilly air was refreshing against her overheated skin. It was just like her to be turned on by what should have been a nightmare.
She sat on the floor, resting her arms and chin on the windowsill. It was a beautiful night. There were enough breaks in the clouds to let a few stars sparkle through. The courtyard below was empty, the happily gurgling fountain the only life. She was reminded of the demon fountain in the courtyard outside of Luxure and shivered, suddenly freezing in the crisp air.
Julia slid the window shut. What a crazy night. That made two in a row now. She'd wanted adventure, but this was much more than she'd expected.
She wondered what happened to that girl Eve? Where did Armand take her? And what was all that talk about blood, victims and donors?
It was too much to dwell on right now. It was late, she was exhausted, and maybe even still a little bit tipsy. There was time to worry about it tomorrow when her head was clearer.
Climbing back into bed, Julia pulled the covers tight to her shoulders. As she snuggled deep into the mattress, she couldn't help but wonder what might be happening at Luxure. Was Armand still there? What would a man like him be doing right now and was there a possibility it resembled her dream?
* * *
A double shot of espresso was the only thing that got Julia through the morning. The speakers were more engaging than they had been the day before, but even a slide show filled with images of a collapsed highway from a 54" water main failure couldn't capture her focus. A few scattered notes and some random arrows labeled with illegible text were the only productive things that came out of the morning's lectures.
She blamed La Luxure for filling her head with weird dreams and robbing her of some much needed sleep.
Julia was running on coffee fumes by the time noon rolled around. Lunch wasn't catered, and she was looking forward to checking out a French coffee house on Ursulines, reading her book, and simply relaxing for a while.
Dave caught her eye just as she was leaving. She smiled, waved, and then qui
ckly ducked out the door. She felt bad for avoiding him, but she wasn't interested in being social at that moment. She'd put more effort into it later.
The coffee house was bright and chipper, with crisp white tile floors and deep blue walls. Plates filled with pastries, mini quiches, and other delicious looking bread based items were crammed under the curved glass display. Just beyond the cashier, there was a courtyard filled with plastic tables and a few people working on their laptops.
Julia took her coffee and stuffed croissant to one of several small nooks that faced the street where she could enjoy watching the foot traffic that passed by. Someone had left a paper on the table and she thumbed through it, noting the tropical storm brewing in the gulf and skimming over a few political comics. Her eyes danced over the headlines: economic troubles, negotiations in the Middle East, senator busted in DC brothel...
Julia froze when she read the small headline that was barely a smudge on the page. "Woman's Body Found Drained of Blood."
She yanked the paper closer.
A woman's body was found early this morning near the corner of Burgundy and Conti in the French Quarter. The victim died from excessive blood loss, and was marred with small cuts and bite marks that appeared to be human in nature.
The woman was identified as Melissa Schwartz, a 24-year-old New Orleans resident. Memorial services will be held on Saturday at the First Methodist Church in Metairie.
Police are urging anyone with information to please come forward.
Julia stared at the tiny picture of the smiling woman with the caption, "Victim Melissa Schwartz". Holy. Shit. That was Eve, the girl that had passed out at Luxure the night before. The one Armand had left with.
Visions from her nightmares skittered through her head.
The headline scrolled through her mind again. "Woman's body found drained of blood." Drained. The paper said drained, not, "Woman dies of blood loss from gunshot wound" or "Woman dies from blood loss after dog attack." No, she died from "small cuts and bite marks that appeared to be human in nature." Like she'd been slowly chewed on.
Or drank from.
The memory of Armand's excessively long and sharp canines made her shudder.
God, she had to go to the police.
Julia jumped to her feet, her metal chair scraping loudly against the white, tiled floor.
Wait, no, she had to think about this. She couldn't just run to the police and point fingers. Two Hurricanes, a blowjob shot, and a couple glasses of wine didn't facilitate the clearest memories. Slowly, Julia sat back down and strained to string them together.
She remembered Eve coming in, looking extremely disheveled and Armand being angry. He'd told her to leave, hadn't he? And she'd complained about being full and begged him to take from her.
He'd said no, right? Actually, if Julia remembered correctly, it was, "Absolutely not." And then he said something about Eve not having enough blood to donate.
And now Eve, or rather, Melissa was dead from blood loss and Armand was the last person seen with her.
He might have been pissed, but he'd also seemed concerned. He'd said she was sick and needed help, and then he made a speech after she passed out. It was something about not making donors your victims, and warning everyone to stay away from Eve or he'd get them. His words had been much more eloquent than Julia's patchy memory, but they weren't the words of a killer.
Was that what she'd tell the police?
But what if it was all a show? Maybe once Armand no longer had an audience, it was easier to finish Eve off and dump the body. Maybe he'd just gotten thirsty...
So what would she tell the police? She imagined the conversation going something like this: "Excuse me officer, I think I know what happened to Melissa Schwartz. See, I was in this vampire bar, La Luxure, Melissa came in and this really hot guy, Armand, took her somewhere after she passed out. He seemed concerned about it but it might've been an act. I don't know that he bit her and drank what little blood she had left, but he has really sharp teeth and moves like a panther that moonlights as a ballerina. So he's probably the vampire you're looking for."
That'd go over well.
First, the police would laugh her out of the station and then, if by some remote chance the cops actually looked into Luxure, she was sure the gorilla vampire bartender would go out of his way to find her.
Besides, did she really want to implicate Armand? What if he'd just taken Eve home or to the hospital? And if he hadn't done anything to Eve but the cops started looking into him and found out he was a vampire or something, what then?
The thoughts were absurd. Armand was not a vampire. There were no vampires.
Maybe, she should just tell the police she saw Melissa Schwartz at Luxure the evening before she was murdered and leave it at that. Let the details and the DNA sort it out from there.
Did vampires have DNA?
Julia snorted, shoving the paper away. A woman was dead and she was theorizing about vampire DNA.
For all she knew, Eve was a cutter that'd gone too far. Or it was actually a drug OD the paper had sensationalized. Whatever had happened, Julia needed to quit fantasizing about vampires and get back to reality.
Her food and coffee were cold but it wasn't like she had an appetite anymore. If the barista didn't mind pouring her coffee over ice, she'd be on her way. There were only a few more hours left for Julia to be an engineer and then she could get back to being a tourist. After the conference, she would check out the St. Louis Cemetery as planned, and then decide what to tell the police.
Chapter Five
The clouds seemed to be pushing their way from the sky as Julia wandered through the crumbling St. Louis Cemetery Number One. Sinking closer and closer to the earth, they threatened to smother her with their murky dampness. The temperature was in the 50's, but it felt cooler than that, and Julia pulled her coat tight against her chest in an attempt to ward off the chill. Maybe it was the dampness, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was the eerie surroundings that were chilling her bones.
The walkways were barely that. Loose stones, scattered gravel, broken up concrete, empty beer cans and the occasional discarded shirt made for treacherous footing. Many of the dates on the worn tombs were from the 1800's but a few dated from the 18th Century and there were even some from the 1900's, their bright white walls a contrast to the dull gray of their ancestors. Some of the tombs had long lost their identity and were now just exposed deteriorating bricks with melting mortar.
Even after dwelling on the Melissa Schwartz dilemma all afternoon, Julia still wasn't sure what she was going to tell the police or if she was going to tell them anything at all. The good citizen would have already told the authorities everything they knew. Yet, she hesitated.
She worried if she revealed what little information she had, it would be bad for Armand. And throwing him under the bus did not appeal to her.
But why was she trying to protect him?
Sure, he'd been nice to her at La Luxure and made her feel comfortable and welcome in an unfamiliar situation, but other than that, she had no reason to protect him. In fact, she should be scared of him. Even if she hadn't watched him leave with a girl that later turned up dead, there were plenty other reasons to find him frightening.
That voice, his intense eyes, those crazy, long fangs, the unnatural, smooth and silent way he moved...
But the only reason she should find any of that frightening would be if she was ready to believe he was something other than human.
The mere thought was preposterous.
So, she was just floating in purgatory, unsure what to think or do. It was better to do nothing than act on impulse and possibly implicate an innocent man.
However, if he was innocent, letting the cops know what she'd seen wouldn't harm him. Once again, she had to wonder why she was protecting him.
She wasn't ready to point fingers at Armand, though, not yet. The man she'd met last night hadn't struck her as a killer and it was ridiculous to think h
e was a vampire. She needed to see him again, judge his character without so much alcohol clouding her mind. But the only place she knew to find him was La Luxure, and the idea of going back there alone was truly terrifying.
All this flip-flopping was making her head hurt.
The clouds dropped lower, pressing damp, misty fingers against her already chilled skin, and giving her a quick jolt of the creeps. It didn't help that she was already on edge from Melissa's death and the raised graves held a million places for an assailant to hide. Nor did it help when she reached the massive tomb in the center of the cemetery and was greeted by headless statues while crows cried their sad tune from roosts in the trees behind her.
In spite of being spooked, she found the cemetery eerily beautiful. There was something to its dilapidation that was actually graceful. It reminded her of black and white snapshots of refugee women in National Geographic. Surviving wars and famines hadn't always aged them well, but they still stood tall and with whatever strength they could muster.
After snapping a few more pictures, Julia glanced at her phone. It was approaching six and would be getting dark soon. Probably a good time to head out.
As she meandered back towards the entrance, she passed a large tomb marked with dozens of X's, all in groups of three. Shoes, coins, liquor bottles, beads, lipsticks, and various other items gathered at the base. The marker read, "Marie Laveau."
The Voodoo Queen.
A woman of about 50 stood at Julia's left, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as she studied the grave. She looked even more the tourist than Julia.
"What are the X's for?" Julia asked.
"You mark them on the wall and then ask Marie to grant you a favor."
"Do you know what they mean?"
"I think they represent the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost."
It wasn't what Julia was expecting. Besides adding a little extra creepiness to the lore, what did Catholicism have to do with the Mistress of Voodoo?