sanguineangels

by Various

  Staring at my body a moment longer, I realized tonight was not the night for me to turn into Narcissus and be captured by my own beauty. I had eons for that. My gums ached, and hollowness filled my insides. Tonight I’d dress to kill, so to speak. I donned a black velvet dress, black thigh-high stockings, and black Doc Martens.

  My gaze fell on the things I would need to complete my disguise. A contact case and scattered makeup: everything I needed to fit in better. From the lot, my tarot cards called to me. I smiled, wondering what Fate had in store for me tonight. Mentally, I checked my schedule and knew I had no clients to read. No one to tell a husband was cheating, or a sickness was devouring them, or a fortune would be lost in the stock market.

  I smirked at the thought of how easily I peered into the minds of my clients, divining their futures and reading their emotions. After one session, they always came back. I had a good reputation, unlike the phony psychics who lined Jackson Square. Hotel managers and local occult shops referred tourists to me. I loved unearthing secrets from my unsuspecting clients.

  I studied the cobalt backs, admiring the golden stars. I had owned them for years. My right hand passed over the line of cards, automatically settling on one in the middle and then another at the end. Energy sparked between the cards and my palm. I pulled those two cards to see how the evening would progress and to give me a glimpse into the more distant future. The first card I flipped was the Lovers. It signified I would meet someone to spend eternity within the next couple of nights.

  Yeah, right! I giggled, wondering who my next conquest would be.

  The card normally meant the beginning of a meaningful relationship, but this night I interpreted it as a lustful tryst card. I doubted anyone would spark my emotions. It had been years since I had known love. I didn’t remember what it felt like to have warmth in my heart, to let someone have complete access to my innermost sanctum. My nature demanded solitude; I couldn’t have a partner who might discover my secret, so I stayed away from the commitments and found other ways to pass my nights.

  My mouth watered as I thought of all the willing partners I had been with. Sex made me remember what it was like to be alive. It gave me an excuse to feel, and I had as much as I wanted. Sometimes it overwhelmed me. Ah, but who was I kidding? One could never have too many good fucks.

  Laughing, I turned my gaze to the other card.

  It was the Ten of Swords, the true Death card of the deck.

  Great, I thought. Utter and total destruction.

  I doubted I’d literally be pinned with ten rapiers. My true demise would not be so horrible; it probably meant inner turmoil in the coming week or so.

  Yes, that had to be it. I sighed inwardly, knowingly the suit of swords also meant mental stress. The card could mean I was near the end of my worries.

  Customers weren’t calling me to divine the stars for them. As a rule, business came in spurts as disasters struck the customers I entertained. Their money didn’t matter to me. They just kept me busy and helped pass the long nights I lingered in. I glanced down at the cards once again before throwing them back in the deck. I wasn’t too concerned. Even though the cards predicted my future, I forged my own path, not letting Fate govern my journey through life.

  Moving the cards aside, I applied my makeup so I could blend with the goth crowd. The dark and misunderstood were a thriving part of New Orleans, drawn to the city’s ancient heritage and otherworldly grittiness. Many of them applied white paint, molding acrylic fangs to their incisors; moving among them was easy for me. It seemed a crime to wear a suit and tie and lead a normal life. But what was normal anyway?

  I put on a few lines of black kohl to accentuate my evergreen eyes. Contacts hid the real color. Next came the cranberry-red lipstick. Every time I wore it, men swooned over me, wanting—hoping—to fuck me. I only took a few up on the offers and wondered if tonight would be one of those nights. Many goth boys counted on pain to bring them to pleasure. I prided myself on knowing the right points to pinch and massage to get them to come. Some liked their asses beaten plum-ripened red. Only then, as they begged, did I give them their desire. Others preferred their dicks in my mouth, my tongue working the shaft while my teeth held the head in place.

  These were only some of my many secrets. If I revealed them all, what interest would they have in me?

  I sighed. I looked semi-normal, a cross between a bleached porcelain doll and the bride of Satan. I was perfect.

  The energy of the tarot cards played against my arm, sending tingles across my skin. Tempted to pull another card, I paused. The night called.

  I smiled one last time, checking my curved fangs to see if they were lipstick free. They were. Tonight was going to be fun. I could feel it.

  Chapter Two

  My name is Veronica.

  The setting sun warmed my back some as I made my way down Bourbon Street, marveling at the variety of shops, which offered every tool imaginable to fit into the city. Metallic Mardi Gras beads of green, purple, and gold filled the shops. Some were strings of beads; others alternated beads with doubloons or alligators. Masks lined the walls. Some sprouted elegant peacock feathers, while others were simple black and white bands to cover the eyes. No matter what disguise sightseers chose, it enabled them to lose their inhibitions, or hide behind the fancy feathers, drifting, undisturbed, among the throngs of people.

  Numerous shot glasses stocked shelves, just the thing the inebriated tourist needed. My favorite tourist trapping was the T-shirt covered in the word “fuck.” It was amusing, but something I’d never buy, even though I’m sure my ex would have.

  Devon would fit in here better than I did. He’d easily get lost in a stupor and be cursed by some Voodoo High Priest. He knew how to piss off the right people.

  This was my first visit to The Big Easy, and I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d ended up here. I had hoped it would ease my restlessness, but I wasn’t sure. Even if that didn’t happen, I hoped I’d discover a way to put Devon out of my mind for good. He followed me everywhere I went. When I looked behind me to see if he was there, I’d realize my mind was playing tricks on me. Our last encounter winked through my mind, and I shivered at the memory.

  I had grabbed a handful of money after he had broken my cheekbone. I was used to his fist. The pain was dull compared to the other humiliations I had suffered at his hand. I had told him I was getting something to eat. Finally finding my courage, I had flown from the house, never looking back. Now his memory haunted me as I tried to remember how to live, learning how to feel and regain what he had taken away from me.

  I wasn’t used to the heavy moisture in the air; I’d come here from the crystalline crispness of Boston, where the seasons changed and the streets were lined with people who didn’t understand the meaning of hospitality. Here, people didn’t assume I was going to mug them when I said hello.

  I had always tried to blend in with the populace up north, but as much as I tried, they never accepted me. People seemed like aliens. I had always blended with the night, choosing black garments and other things that categorized me as goth. Corsets and clothes within the fetish world—vinyl, leather—anything to derive pain. That was how I knew I was still alive. Devon had trained me to believe that there was no more love in my heart. He lived to bring pain and fear. Sometimes I felt like some kind of monster, living the way I did. Several times I went against him and tried to live righteously, but every time I found some semblance of peace, he always pulled me back in.

  Most of society called us nightkind freaks. I liked being outside of the norm in that sense and here I felt almost at home. I’d encountered other goths, stepping through the misty world, and I wondered if I could share my secrets with them. Only another true creature of darkness would understand the nightmare my life had turned into.

  Chapter Three

  My name is Brenna.

  Strolling down Bourbon Street, I listened to the music floating out of the clubs. I’d been walking indiscreetly up and down t
he Rue for almost two hours with my gums aching and the hollowness in my stomach growing.

  I rested my tongue on one fang carefully. I grew bored of the drunken games many of the tourists played. Idiotic men barked at women, demanding to see their tits as if it were the biggest thrill. I groaned as one asked the same of me. I smiled weakly and then hissed, loving it as he fell on his ass, beer squirting out his nose as he spilled the rest on himself. More people ventured out into the hot, humid evening, looking for dinner or to shop in the tacky stores that lined the street. I wanted nothing to do with them.

  I thought of the Lovers card I had pulled from my tarot deck earlier. It seemed Fate amused itself with me, as it always did. No matter how many times I thought I had discerned my own path, Fate threw me back on the course that it had plotted before I was born. There was no way to get away from it. It had thrown me on the path of working as a psychic when I never asked for it. Like tonight, it was leading me on a journey I couldn’t see the end of—that was why I distrusted the whole system. I stopped, leaning against the front of one of the many strip clubs. From my vantage point, I could see up and down the street. A breeze kicked up, cooling me a little and taking thoughts of my hunger from me.

  While watching the pedestrians, something caught my eye. A big, green hand grenade danced outside of a bar, enticing people to come in for the bar’s signature drink. It was the strongest known to mankind.

  My eyes wandered from the grenade and over the tourists, trying to pinpoint one who wouldn’t be missed. Most traveled in groups and were not so easy to pick off. Suddenly the crowd parted, as if the gods had chosen for me, and a single male strolled my way. He had a drink in his hand. I licked my lips in anticipation. My stomach rumbled. I could already hear the rubbing of his jeans as he walked. His brown hair reminded me of chocolate, and his sculpted shoulders and lips were all to my liking.

  I could see myself running a hand over his chiseled chest. His ass would be great to hold onto when he was driving into me. My hands wanted to explore every part of him. His lips would be full and would know what parts of me to explore as his hands played over my tits. I would laugh in his ear as he tickled my neck, thinking he could have his way with me. Then, as he moved his hard length deep inside of me, I would rise up and let him see what he had bedded. His eyes would open wide in fear, but he would be so caught up in his orgasm it wouldn’t matter.

  Then my fangs would pierce his throat as easily as his dick had slipped into me. Moans of unfulfilled pleasure would escape his lips, and I would drink my fill.

  Yes, he would be very, very good.

  My heart sped up some as I imagined what the oncoming night would be like. I stepped forward, centering my attention on him, when a woman collided with me.

  Crazy bitch, I thought.

  I growled low in my throat and looked up at the woman who had bumped into me. She kept going, not bothering to stop. She kept glancing behind her, into the hordes of people. I turned to see what she was searching for, but saw nothing. Focusing on my prey for the evening, I realized he had been swallowed up.

  That did it. If I couldn’t have him, she was mine.

  I marched after her, darting in between the groups, closing the distance. I kept focused on her, but even though I followed closely, she never saw me as she kept checking over her shoulder. Something about her piqued my curiosity. I honed my mind and cast a line into her like hooking onto a fish. I brushed her thoughts and emotions, catching her name as well as the circumstances that had driven her to this city. Her name was Veronica, and she had run from an ex-boyfriend who had beaten her within inches of her life several times. She’d finally left, and underneath her fear of him, there was something else, a secret she tried desperately to keep walled away almost like a separate part of her personality.

  I stayed attached only briefly. There were so many people on Bourbon Street; I didn’t want to take the chance of their emotions settling in with mine. She was the only one I was concerned about. My rage from losing my prey died while waves of sympathy filled me. She may have been a loner and easy to pick off, but I had a soft spot for powerless victims.

  She strode faster, weaving through the throngs of people because she assumed she might encounter her ex in New Orleans. Her fear was strong enough to drive her close to insanity, but beneath it laid happiness, struggling to survive. Each day she was away from her ex it grew stronger. It was this sense of feeling that had enabled her to break free from the abuse. I had to cultivate this seed within her.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually loved someone. Each time I woke from my slumber, I had searched the night to ease my hunger for humanity. Even as I thought of this, I bit my lower lip, causing blood to seep into my mouth.

  I swallowed the coppery fluid, letting it settle into my growling stomach. I licked my lips absently. Thoughts of my lost food vanished. I knew I’d sate my desires later.

  Quickening my pace, I sensed someone watching me—which on Bourbon Street, of course, was everyone. However, this was different. Someone in particular watched me. My anger ignited at the invasion.

  How dare anyone try to scan me, I thought. Then a tingling, an itching, started in the back of my brain, signaling my ignited psychic abilities, which normally warned me of impending doom. Scanning the street, I ignored the feeling, assuming it was a cautioning about Veronica and her ex-boyfriend. I smirked at the counsel, knowing nothing would happen to me.

  I focused my attention on the entity observing me. It invaded my thoughts, forcing me to find it. I pushed against the presence, not used to having another in my brain. I followed it back to its source like a ball of yarn leading me out of a labyrinth and saw him directly across the street.

  His hands were folded across his chest. One knee lifted, his foot resting against the brick wall behind him as if he knew I would find him with ease. An open black leather vest exposed his marble white chest. Skintight black leather pants clung to his form. His hair was black and spiked. He reveled in the fact that he held my attention so easily and grinned at me. The hint of fang gleamed in his smile.

  I nodded in return. I had encountered several other nocturnal creatures in the city, but I normally ignored them. I didn’t like to be crowded in my hunting grounds. Besides, there were plenty of victims in the city to go around. I wondered why he sought my attention. Maybe he wanted Veronica for himself. However, as our connection hummed, I doubted that.

  An image of him kissing my neck played in my mind. The feel of phantom hands played over my arms as they traced the skin up to my neck and cupped my chin. The feel of his lips pressed against mine as he held my gaze. I smiled slyly as the creature across from me tried to show me what it would be like to be with him. I was not keen on the intrusion into my mind, but he was definitely making me think twice about what I had been planning with the mortal man I had lost earlier. His thoughts whispered that he could show me a night like no other. What could a mortal do that he wouldn’t be able to do so much better? If I hadn’t been so enamored with Veronica, I might have taken him up on his offer.

  Veronica ducked into a restaurant just down the way. I sized up the man and felt no threat from him. His tether evaporated from my mind. I snuck a glance away from his piercing eyes. Through the restaurant window, I saw Veronica being seated by a waitress. When I looked back toward the man, he was gone.

  A shiver ran down my back. The thought he had planted in my brain vanished, and I was able to concentrate on Veronica again. Still a part of me wondered what he wanted with me. Was it more than just sex? There were always ulterior motives behind our porcelain faces. What would it be like to be with another of my kind? I had never had that before. He left a part of me intrigued by the idea. I shook my head, realizing I had almost fallen under his spell as if I were a mortal. I had to be careful and remember I was something else, a creature of the shadows who answered to no one.

  I slipped into the restaurant easily without the hostess noticing. It was fun playing with
the minds of my prey. Choosing a table, I ordered a drink. My ears perked at the traditional sounds of jazz from the house band. The tune carried me away, taking me back to a time when my life had been much simpler, when I couldn’t divine the future or peer into others’ minds. To when I was younger and not so cut off from humanity. As a whisper of serenity came to my brain, my reverie was broken. My eyes snapped open. I gave the waitress a coy smile as she brought my drink and asked for my order. I brushed her away to look at Veronica.

  Even after years of battering, her complexion remained perfect. Shoulder length black hair floated around her face, making her appear like a dark angel. Misty purple, her sad eyes peered out from under uneven bangs, and I found myself drawn to them. After so many years of searching, I didn’t have to be lonely anymore. With Veronica here, feet from me, my heart leapt into my throat as I sipped my drink. There was a strength in her I could relate to. Whatever her dark secret, I was sure she would share it with me.

  The hint of designer fangs peeked out from a white-painted face. I could see the grains of the makeup easily. I almost chuckled as I realized what she was doing. She hid behind a disguise, trying to be like me. Like many goths before her, she sought solace in the guise of my brethren. In this, we were sisters. Veronica’s sadness hung about her like an ancient birthright. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of some unknown defeat. Every movement shouted her story. Try as she might to stay optimistic about life, to hold onto some kind of light in her life, her ex had taken her soul and left nothing save a stony abyss. Even with her weighty burdens, I knew I could make her forget the drama of her past.

  Two women cackled for the band to go on as they finished their set. I smiled as their companions covered their eyes, pretending not to know them. No pity crossed my mind. It was their own fault the women had gotten drunk. Humans were so quick to indulge themselves. I licked my lips, thinking I was not so unlike them.