La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust

by Cd Hussey

  The jazz band kicked into another peppy tune, but it didn't help her sour mood. The problem was, Julia was really beginning to believe Armand might be something more than human, and that Eve, or Melissa, had met her fate by someone like him. But she felt like such an idiot for even considering it. So what if there were tons of clues indicating that possibility might be the truth. So what if random people seemed to be confirming it as well. No reasonable person believed in vampires.

  Julia sighed. No reasonable, close-minded person believed in vampires, she corrected. There were plenty of things in this world proven to be fact that "reasonable" people didn't use to believe in. Dark matter, black holes, a round earth, water on Mars, Sasquatch...

  Okay, so maybe Sasquatch was a bit of a stretch, but there was some pretty compelling evidence on-line that made Julia wonder and she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if hard evidence suddenly surfaced.

  Whatever, it really didn't matter. As silly as it seemed, she couldn't confirm or deny the existence of vampires. And even if thinking they might actually exist made her feel foolish, she couldn't ignore the evidence.

  But what evidence did she have? A few folk tales, a dead girl drained of blood, a guy that "acted" like a vampire and shunned the sun, some silly fortune teller? She might as well derive her conclusions from one of those gossip magazines in the checkout line at the grocery store.

  "Woman gives birth to alien baby..."

  Julia sighed again. Here she was in one of the most beautiful cities in the US obsessing over something completely inane. Couldn't she just enjoy the brass band, flirt with the cute guy at the seminar, drink a damn Hurricane without bitching about it, visit the Louisiana State Museum...?

  The tan building that butted up to the cathedral with thick columns and sweeping archways caught her attention for the first time. Taking in a museum was a great idea, and the perfect thing to distract her trivial mind.

  Julia rose quickly and with purpose. She had about 30 minutes left on her lunch break, she might as well get to it.

  * * *

  "Elegance after Dark - Evening wear in New Orleans, 1896-1996." Of all the exhibits in the museum, this one appealed to her the most. She'd be sure to check out "Colonial Louisiana" afterwards, but right now, the turn of the century garments were calling to her.

  The museum was a maze of small, cream colored rooms crammed with pieces of history. Besides the chatty attendant at the front, the museum appeared empty, and her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the old, wooden floors.

  Following the museum map, Julia climbed a large, curving stair-case lined with portraits of influential Louisianans, took a hard left, had to turn the map upside down to figure out which way to go next, and finally arrived at her destination.

  The first exhibit that caught her eye was a mannequin in a gorgeous black silk gown with gold embroidery and a gold lace over-skirt. She lingered on the intricate detail of the belt clasp, and mused about how tiny people were 100 years ago before moving on.

  Her eyes skimmed over a small exhibit with a luxurious satin top-hat, some fine leather gloves, and an ornately carved walking stick that apparently doubled as a sword. The adjacent plaque read, "Fine men's accessories from the late 19th Century. Donated by the Laroque estate.", but it was the aged photo of the man wearing the items that caught her attention.

  Staring at her with those intense, hazel eyes was a black and white photo of Armand. The top hat was slightly askew, and the smile on his full, kissable lips was positively mischievous. There were no visible piercings or tattoos, but it was undeniably his face captured in the timeless photo.

  Julia was sure the thud from her mouth hitting the floor was audible out in Jackson Square, especially when she read the caption printed neatly below the photo.

  "Armand Laroque, ca. 1898."

  She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Her insides were twisting up so badly, it felt like they were going to jump out of her throat and strangle her. Frantically, Julia scanned the room for a place to sit down because if she didn't get off her feet soon, they were going to have a mutiny.

  Spotting a wooden bench on the opposite side of the room, Julia staggered over to it and flopped down.

  Oh. My. God. Her idiotic musings, her hair-brained theories, her ridiculous fears... All. True.

  Struggling to keep her breathing from turning into fish gasps, Julia clutched at the side of the rock hard bench that was keeping her from lying on the ground in a quivering heap.

  What should she do? What should she do?

  "Ma'am, are you all right?"

  Julia glanced up into the concerned face of the museum security staff. The young woman's soft brown eyes were brimming with worry that matched the furrows wrinkling her flawless, caramel colored brow.

  Jesus Christ, Julia snap out of it! There's no reason to freak out the poor museum workers.

  Julia swallowed and forced out a smile. "I'm fine. I just," she swallowed again and heaved her breath in and out. "I had an asthma attack but I - I used my inhaler and I'm fine now."

  She could tell by the skeptical look in the security guard's eyes that the girl hadn't seen Julia use an inhaler any more than she actually had. "All right," the guard said slowly. "Well, if you need anything, I'll be right over here." Translation, if you keep acting strange, I'm watching you.

  Julia nodded and smiled. Her breath was coming easier and easier. "Thank you. I appreciate it." The guard returned to her station, but Julia had no doubt that she remained under her watchful gaze.

  It didn't matter. Julia wasn't hanging around much longer. She glanced at the picture of Armand. Even from across the room she could feel his eyes on her just as strongly as she could feel the security guard's. Her heart fluttered in response.

  Rising abruptly, she scurried from the museum. She needed to get a handle on her thoughts, but there was no way that was going to happen with hundred-year-old Armand staring at her.

  * * *

  There was something oddly soothing about the streets less traveled in the Quarter. Choosing a path that took her as far off the main route as possible, Julia wove her way through quiet, residential streets towards the conference center. There were hardly any people, but the gentle presence of houses squeezed against the sidewalk's edge was oddly welcoming, as if any moment their shuttered windows and locked doors would open and beckon her in. Even the flashes of garden courtyards hidden behind iron gates and brick walls felt like glimpses into some secret beauty instead of being shut out of paradise.

  The peace she felt as she wandered helped sort her thoughts. Discovering Armand was something more than human didn't change anything. She'd suspected as much anyway, so it wasn't actually this great surprise. The only thing it did was put a few holes in her reality. If vampires did exist, what other "myths" were also true? Aliens? Werewolves? Zombies?

  Truthfully, if the government suddenly admitted that Area 51 did exist, Julia wouldn't be surprised. It wasn't hard for her to imagine the possibility of other life forms somewhere in the vast universe. But werewolves and zombies? Those were a little harder to swallow.

  And what kind of vampire was he? Vampire myths could generally be divided into a couple sub-categories. There were the traditional, undead type that feared crosses and hated garlic. There was the theory that vampirism was spread by a virus which happened to have unusual symptoms: sensitivity to sun-light, blood lust, amazing sex appeal...And then there was the notion that vampires were actually a subspecies of humans, another race entirely.

  The traditional vampire just seemed ridiculous. She'd met Armand. Undead he was not. A virus was plausible, but if vampirism was truly catching, it seemed like a lot more people would have it, especially if vampires craved human blood as much as the myths implied.

  So, that just left subspecies. Of all the theories, it made the most sense. Sensitivity to sun could be an allergy, or nothing more than a sensitivity. Lots of animals were nocturnal. There were turtles that lived for hundreds of years,
so it wasn't impossible to imagine an abnormally long lifespan for a humanoid. Better agility, heightened senses, super strength - again these weren't difficult to explain if you just looked at the animal kingdom. Practically every animal in the world was stronger, faster, and more attuned to the senses than humans. The blood lust...well, how many insects lived off blood? And didn't the Masai tribes in Africa drink cow and goat's blood? Heck, black pudding was made with congealed blood and it was commonly consumed in the UK. Perhaps the vampire merely had a specialized digestive system or a severe iron deficiency.

  But wormholes, dark matter, subspecies, or undead aside, it came down to one question for Julia. Did discovering Armand was a vampire change how she felt about him?

  Strangely, no, it didn't change a thing. Whether or not he was safe was still up in the air, and she definitely wasn't any less attracted to him.

  In the end, it really didn't matter. As much as she might want to see him again, it was unlikely they'd randomly bump into each other like they had at the cemetery. And there was no way she was going to seek him out at La Luxure. While she might not think Armand was particularly dangerous, the same couldn't be said about the dozens of other vampires that hung out there.

  Finding out vampires were real didn't elevate Armand from fantasy status. Actually being with him, in any context, wasn't to be. She knew that. It was disappointing, because when she hadn't been petrified of him, the brief time they'd spent together had been amazing. The conversation was easy and natural, and the sexual energy...

  She sighed. Unless she suddenly grew a pair and decided that braving potentially deadly vampires was worth chasing after him, there was no point dwelling on it. Besides, even if she happened to drum up enough courage to seek him out, what then? Was she expecting the great relationship of her life? True love?

  Reminded of the Rom fortune teller's first premonition, Julia smiled. And then shook it off. She wasn't about to set herself up with false hope only to be disappointed by reality. No, it was better to chalk the experience up to an amazing adventure and move on. Barely any of the activities on her tourist "to-do" list were scratched off, and she only had three more days to explore the city.

  Julia was about to round the corner onto the convention hotel street when she remembered her sister. She needed to call Clare. It had been a few days and she'd already ignored the message blinking on her phone. She picked up the phone, but instead of dialing, decided to send a message straight to voicemail. She still wasn't ready to talk about the last several days. Not with Clare.

  "Hey, sorry I missed your call. I was just having a drink." Small lies. They were just small lies. "Everything's good here. Great really, um, having a blast. I'll call you later." Eeek, more small lies. She bit her lip. "See ya," she added, trying to keep her voice normal and light. Hopefully, she was convincing enough. The last thing she wanted was for Clare to worry.

  Besides, everything was fine, wasn't it?

  Chapter Eight

  "Hmmm." Julia tugged at the ruffled edge of her tiny skirt, hoping it would grow just a few inches longer.

  No such luck.

  She turned around to check her rear-view image in the mirror. At least her butt wasn't showing. She was wearing some cute, ruffled, costume type panties that matched her white petticoat, but she still wasn't keen on having them exposed.

  Was she really brave enough to wear this out of the hotel room?

  Julia slipped the tall, powdered wig over her head. She'd vowed to be adventurous. She'd promised to use this experience to step away from her comfort zone. She'd brought the Marie Antoinette costume down to New Orleans to wear, not to keep tucked away in her suitcase. It was now or never.

  Still, did the dress have to be so flipping short?

  She dismissed her trepidation with a shrug. It was Halloween. It was New Orleans. Hers wouldn't be the only short skirt around. In fact, she was pretty sure there'd be people on the streets wearing a lot less clothing.

  Grabbing a small coin purse with just enough room for an ID, cash, and her cell phone, Julia avoided her image in the mirror as she headed out of the hotel room. She wasn't about to wuss out now, and risking one final glance at the tiny skirt exposing a massive expanse of legs barely covered by thigh-high, white stockings, might be too much. She was already on the verge of ripping everything off and throwing on some jeans and a sweater.

  Tonight was a night for boldness, not a night to be just another wallflower.

  Her white, platform heels echoed loudly in the stairwell, making her descent sound like a herd of stampeding zebras. Not wanting to voraciously announce her arrival, she eased down the last steps as she approached the 1st floor.

  Carefully pulling the door open, she peered out into the lobby. It was thankfully empty. Baring her costumed body on the busy, dark streets was one thing, putting it on full display in a brightly lit hotel lobby was another. She was able to sneak past the concierge, and with a deep breath, yanked open the door to the outside world.

  The streets were packed. Most people wore costumes, and as she'd expected, there was a lot of skin exposed. The weather was warm, almost balmy, and people were taking full advantage of it. In fact, compared to some, Julia's costume looked modest, Quaker-like even.

  She received a few catcalls and plenty of stares, but for some reason it didn't bother her. None of it was overbearing or threatening, and it wasn't like she didn't know the costume was sexy. There was something about the anonymity a giant white wig provided, and the fact that she was wearing a costume and not real clothes that made the attention okay.

  Tonight, she wasn't Julia Brown. She was Marie Antoinette.

  It was also the first time since she'd arrived in New Orleans that Bourbon St. didn't sleaze her out. Oh, it was still pretty smutty, but she didn't mind. There was an energy here that she hadn't noticed or appreciated earlier. She still didn't think she'd want to spend any considerable amount of time on the party street, but at least now she felt like she could enjoy it for what it was.

  She grabbed a piece of pizza from the stand her sister recommended the first night she'd arrived, and then made her way to the Absinthe Tavern where she was supposed to meet Dave and crew. She caught a few tossed beads, nodded to the other Marie's she passed, and was generally feeling pretty damn good about herself.

  Until…she stepped into the tiny bar nestled at the intersection of two alleys the 21st century forgot, caught sight of her party, and realized she was the only one in costume.

  Who didn't dress up on Halloween? Missouri she could understand, but New Orleans?

  Everyone had fun in a different way, she reminded herself. She wasn't here to judge. Putting on her best smile, Julia approached the trio seated at a narrow, wooden bar.

  Beth jumped up, and ran to Julia when she saw her. "Oh my God. You look so cute!" The blond threw her arms around Julia in an awkward hug. "See, I told you people would be wearing costumes," she said over her shoulder towards Mike.

  Grabbing Julia's hand, Beth led her to the bar. "Do you want something to drink?"

  "Of course." Julia pulled her hand away gently and reached for her purse. She wasn't all that into random female declarations of affection, and Beth's enthusiasm made her a little uncomfortable.

  "You look great," Dave told her.

  She flashed a smile at him. "Thanks."

  The word "intimate" was an understatement for the tiny club. Besides the bar, there were only a few small tables shoved against the brick walls, but the floor space was still severely limited. The décor was a mixture of ship-worthy fare, and fanfare for the Green Fairy.

  Luckily, there were only a few patrons sitting on the stools, otherwise, finding a place to sit might be a problem. The bartender smiled as Julia eased into the space between Mike and Dave, and set a cardboard coaster on the bar.

  "What can I get you?" she asked. Rail-thin and twenty-something, she was a pretty girl. She was wearing a small tri-corn pinned to her edgy haircut, a tank top that said something
about "Pirate Booty", and a black and white striped mini.

  "Absinthe. The real thing."

  "Of course. Which brand?"

  "Whatever you recommend."

  The bartender turned to the group. "Anyone else?"

  "Sure, why not," Dave said. "Beth?"

  Beth made a face. "I'll just try some of yours."

  "Mike?"

  "Beer." Mike's aged frat-boy face lacked an ounce of emotion.

  "You sure?" Dave probed with a grin.

  "Beer," was the flat reply.

  Dave laughed. "Cool." He turned back to the bartender. "I guess just two Absinthes and this jackass can order whatever he wants."

  The bartender pulled out two tulip shaped stemmed glasses, and poured a shot of pale, Peridot-green liquor in each. She then set a flat metal perforated spoon on each glass, topped them with a sugar cube and placed each glass under one of the four, silver spigots protruding from a large glass decanter filled with ice water. She turned the spigots, and water slowly dripped over the sugar cubes and into the liquid green.

  The water droplets turned to swirling puffs of smoke, twisting and churning, floating like wispy tendrils until they finally overtook the surrounding green, and the liquid turned milky. It was like watching some mystic ritual.

  "That's beautiful," Julia breathed. She could practically feel the wonder lighting her cheeks.

  "La Louche," the bartender explained. "All part of the show." She closed each valve, tipped the spoons into the glasses, stirred, and then placed the clouded, green liquor in front of them. "Honestly, it's half the appeal. Don't get me wrong, the liquor's good. But sometimes, the ritual is better. Enjoy."

  Dave grabbed his glass. "That was completely unnecessary," he muttered quietly to Julia. "Just pour some water in and be done with it."