by Julie Wetzel
Zak made an attempt at escape, but Vicky caught him before he could leap from her arms.
“Then, welcome aboard.” The pilot smiled over his shoulder at her. “I’m Terry.”
Vicky looked over the well-spoken man. His skin was so dark it was nearly purple, and he would probably be tall when he stood up. Right now, he was folded neatly behind the controls of the plane. “If you need anything, Michael here can help you find it.”
Michael nodded his head in agreement.
“I’m Vicky.” She smiled warmly at him. “And this is Zak.” She bounced the fay in her arms. He was still trying to get down to look around the room.
“You can let him down.” Terry reassured her as he watched the little dog struggle to get free. “He can’t hurt much.”
Vicky snorted in mirth but let Zak down. “You don’t know him very well.” She smiled.
Finally free, the fay sniffed around one of the panels. He turned his attention to Michael holding down his hand. Zak sniffed it before rubbing his face into the man’s palm.
Michael lifted him to his lap and ruffled his fur. “Oh, he seems nice enough to me.”
“That’s what he would like you to believe.” She chucked at Zak sniffing the instrument panel. “Come on, Zak.” She patted her leg. “Let’s leave these nice men to do their jobs.”
Zak shook his head in a great sneeze and jumped from Michael’s lap.
“Sorry for bothering you,” Vicky backed out of the small room.
“You’re no bother at all.” Michael stood up to see her out. “If you or Mr. Ritter needs anything, please let me know.”
Vicky thanked him again and went back to her seat. The air temperature in the plane was comfortable now that the cold December air had been shut out. She unzipped the Saints hoodie and relaxed back into the chair, giving her lap back to Zak.
Closing her eyes, she tried to remember everything she had ever learned about New Orleans. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much. She knew the city was most famous for Mardi Gras and drinking. There had been a few extensive articles on the city’s rich history after Katrina had devastated the region, but she had mostly read the parts about the pumping and levee systems. There had also been a recent kids’ movie about the darker side of the city.
Vicky pulled at her memory trying to get it to work. She had stopped to watch part of that show when she had gone shopping. There was a man with a strangely painted face and little shrunken heads singing a catchy song, but she just couldn’t recall what he was. Vicky shook the thought away and let her mind drift. She would find out the answers soon enough.
***
The morning sunlight twinkled off the water as the plane circled, preparing for landing. The little airport was on the edge of the biggest lake Vicky had ever seen. Darien pointed out the thin line that crossed the waters of Lake Pontchartrain and explained that it was the longest bridge in the world at a whopping twenty-four uninterrupted miles. Zak perched on the back of the couch, looking out the window as the plane touched down. By the time they taxied into a waiting hangar, he had jumped down and was romping around the cabin, ready to get out and explore the new area.
“Should we warn New Orleans that he’s coming?” Vicky laughed as she gathered her bag.
Darien smiled at her. “No,” He chuckled as he went to get their coats and bag. “This city’s seen worse.”
Michael stepped out of the cabin and almost ran into Darien. “Sorry, Sir,” he apologized and slipped passed the vampire to crack open the hatch.
Zak bounced over and rubbed against his leg.
“Come on, Zak,” Vicky called the little horror away so the man could work.
“He’s all right.” Michael leaned over and scratched Zak’s ear before lowering the door to the waiting ground crew.
As soon as the steps were completely down, Zak bounced out to investigate the new smells.
Darien laughed as Michael tried to catch him before he slipped away. “Just let him go,” he reassured the man trying to scramble after the dog. “He’ll be fine.”
Michael looked out the door before nodding and climbing out of the cabin at a more dignified pace.
Vicky glanced around to make sure she hadn’t left anything before following Darien out of the plane.
He held his hand out to help her down the steps.
Vicky looked around, slightly disappointed. “So, this is New Orleans.” Even though the air temperature was warmer than Brenton, it didn’t seem much different than home.
Darien snickered and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “This is the New Orleans Lakefront Airport.” He steered her towards a black sedan. “You don’t get a good feel for the city until you get to the Quarter.” A dark-skinned man, dressed in a suit, stood by the car with keys.
“Welcome to the Crescent City, Mr. Ritter.” He held out the keys for Darien to take. “She's all gassed up and ready to go.”
Darien thanked him and tossed his bag and coat in the back seat. His long-sleeved T-shirt was enough to cut what little chill there was in the air.
Vicky added her coat and bag to the back seat as well.
“Zak!” Darien called to the fay. “We’re leaving.”
Vicky had to suppress a smile when she heard the surprised squeal of some unseen groundskeeper. Zak must have startled him when he bolted out of whatever mischief he was getting into. Vicky opened her door, and Zak launched himself into her seat.
“Little monster.” Darien grinned as he got in.
Vicky had to shift the excited fay around so she could get in. “Do you like it here?” she asked as Zak bounced from looking out the front window to looking out the passenger window.
The fay tried to get into Darien’s lap so he could see out his side, but the vampire grabbed him up and handed him back to Vicky. Zak gurgled excitedly and went back to pressing his nose all over the passenger window.
Vicky ruffled his fur excitedly. His enthusiasm was catching.
“Oh, he should love it here,” Darien answered as he drove out of the airport. “This area has a long history of magic use. Several large lay lines cross under the city.” He glanced at Vicky from the corner of his eye. “Why else would they build a city right at sea level?”
Vicky thought on this for a moment. “I thought New Orleans was a port city founded by the French.”
“It was,” Darien said with a nod, “but there were several better places to put a city than in the middle of a swamp. And, you’re going to get laughed at if you continue to call it ‘New Or Leans’.” Darien stressed the way Vicky had been pronouncing the city’s name. “It’s ‘New Orlens’,” he said, stressing the Southern pronunciation. “Or, if you really want to fit in, ‘Naw’Lens’.”
Vicky giggled and repeated them. “I think I’ll stick with ‘New Orlens’. I feel weird saying ‘Naw‘Lens’.” She looked out the windows at the little houses lining the road. It was surprising how many still had boards over their windows. “Why are all these houses abandoned?” She could still see signs of the flood that had devastated the city.
“We’re driving through some of the areas hardest hit by Katrina,” Darien said solemnly. “Some of these homes had over ten feet of water in them. Most of the families in this area were evacuated to other places, and a fair number of those people decided to stay in their new locations versus coming back.” He looked over the deserted scene. “Most of the people that lived around here were renters. With the renters gone, the landlords are either not in any hurry to rebuild, or they don’t have the funds to do it.”
“But, didn’t their insurance cover it?” Vicky asked, concerned.
“Some did.” Darien shrugged again. “Others either didn’t have enough insurance, or they didn’t carry the right type. A lot of these houses held storm insurance, but not flood insurance.”
Vicky gave him a bewildered look.
“That means the insurance would only pay for the damages done by the wind and rain, but not the damage don
e by flooding.”
“But, wasn’t this,” Vicky waved her hand at the passing houses, “done by the storm?”
“Yes and no. Yes, the storm battered the area, but it was the failure of the levees that caused the flooding,” Darien explained. “So, most of the damage was not a direct result of the storm.”
Vicky worked this over for a moment, trying to see it from the insurance companies’ point of view. “So, since the damage was caused by a failure in the levee verses wind and rain damage, the insurance companies see it as flood damage, not storm damage,” she reiterated.
“Exactly.” Darien nodded.
Vicky scrubbed her fingers into Zak’s fur, annoyed. “That’s stupid.” To her, all of this damage was caused by that one storm and should be covered under storm insurance.
“Yes, but it saved the insurance companies a lot of money.”
“What about the people?” Vicky’s voice was filled with indignation. How could a company hang so many people out to dry like that?
“That’s how it works.” Darien shrugged again. “I never said it was right.”
Vicky grumbled and watched as the neighborhoods slipped past. They were starting to look more populated.
***
Soon, Darien was zigzagging his way through the city. Most of the main roads held large, grassy medians between the lanes. Sometimes they would follow one of the many canals that cut through the city. Several times, Darien had to pass his turn and loop around to the other side of the street before he could get to the road he wanted.
“What’s wrong with the road systems in this town?” Vicky asked as they made another U-turn. “Can’t you turn left?”
Darien laughed at this. “There are a few places in the area where you can turn left, but most of the time it’s restricted.”
“Why?’ This concept seemed stupid to her. Even in Brenton, where most of the roads were one way, you could make a left without much issue.
“Maybe the planners were thinking of all the people that come down here to get drunk.” Darien grinned as he made the next right-hand turn. “You know, UPS drivers aren’t allowed to make left-hand turns in most cities.”
Vicky looked at him in disbelief.
“It’s true. There was a study done that showed the drivers would use less time and gas making all right turns.”
Vicky raised an eyebrow as she took this information in. “Really?”
“Yes.” Darien nodded. “They didn’t have to sit at the light, waiting for cross traffic. And there were also fewer accidents. Trying to turn through traffic in such a large vehicle is hard. If they only make right-hand turns, they avoid that whole find-a-hole-and-hurry issue. If they go around the block, they can just go straight through at the light. Much safer.”
“True.” Vicky had not thought about that. She turned her attention back out the window to the passing world.
Darien made a right-hand turn and pointed towards his window. “That’s Vieux Carré. Also known as the French Quarter.”
Vicky craned her neck trying to see the famous area. It didn’t look very exciting from here.
“How would you like some breakfast?”
“Sure.” They had skipped out on breakfast when they left this morning.
Darien drove them down the divided road to another major road. “This is Canal Street,” he explained as he stopped at the light.
Vicky looked up and down the street. She could see a trolley running along the tracks between the lanes. This road was starting to look like what she expected New Orleans to look like. There were several large neon signs that would be brilliant in the evening. “Why is it called Canal Street?” Vicky didn’t see any canal splitting the median.
“It was named for the canal that was going to be built here, but never was.”
Why would they name a street after something that they never built? Vicky thought. Of course, these were the same people who deemed that left-hand turns were useless.
Darien passed Canal Street and drove into a more city-like area. The little buildings and trees were replaced with the taller architecture of a city. Turning at the first road, he circled the block to get back onto Canal Street.
Both Vicky and Zak twisted from one side to the other as they looked over the flashy signs that lined the street. There were a few people out, but not many. This place would be amazing after dark. Vicky could see strands of beads stuck on some of the signs. They swayed slightly in the morning breeze. “Are the beads left over from Mardi Gras?” Her eyes caught more hanging from other, out-of-reach places.
“Yes.” Darien watched traffic as he came to the end of Canal Street and followed the road as it turned left alongside some railroad tracks. Pulling into a parking lot at the end of the road, he found a parking space.
Vicky looked around but didn’t see any place to eat. “So, where are we going?” she asked as Darien got out of the car. Vicky stepped out and debated whether she needed her coat. The long-sleeved shirt and sweatshirt she wore felt pretty warm with the sun shining on it, so she grabbed up her bag and slipped it over her shoulder.
“There’s no parking in the Quarter,” Darien explained. “We’ll have to walk a bit.” He held out his hand.
Vicky took it. For some reason, he seemed older to her.
Darien folded her hand around his arm and led her out to the street.
Zak started to bounce along in front of them.
Pausing, Darien looked at the fay. “Come here, Zak.” Kneeling down, he picked the little horror up so they were eye level. “I’m sorry about this, but we need to put you on a leash.”
The fay growled at him.
“I know, but it’s the law.”
Zak sneezed his displeasure and whined at Darien.
“We’ll get you something special,” Darien said, offering the fay a bribe.
Zak finally gave him a sulking look and nodded his head.
“Good.” Darien ruffled the hellhound as he set him down. Turning, he pointed to Vicky’s bag. “I need in that.”
Vicky shifted it around so Darien could search in it without standing back up.
After a few moments of digging, Darien pulled out a black collar with a dark green leash. He fastened it around Zak’s neck. “Here.” Handing the end to Vicky, Darien stood up. “I think it would be better if you held him.”
Vicky looked down at the disgruntled fay. He had already gotten the leash in his mouth. “Zak.” She pulled him over so she could pet him. “I don’t like this any more than you do.” Wiggling her fingers into the fay’s thick fur, she scratched the sweet spot behind his ear. “But it’s only while we’re in the city.” She continued to rub him until he purred. “Once we’re back to the car, we can take it off.”
Zak rubbed his head into Vicky’s leg and pranced around at the end of the lead. The tips of his hair wiggled unnaturally in his excitement.
“Now,” Darien reclaimed Vicky’s free hand, “where were we?” He wrapped her hand back around his arm and led her to the street. “You know, I didn’t come out here very often in the daytime.” They headed away from Canal Street, past more parking areas. Most of them were fairly empty at this time of day. After a few blocks, the road they were on joined with another.
“This is Decatur,” Darien explained. “The Quarter runs from Decatur up to North Rampart Street, and from Canal Street clear over to Esplanade Ave.”
As they walked, Vicky could just see the green of a park up on the left-hand side. “So, you know this area well?”
“Oh, yes,” Darien answered. “I’ve spent a great deal of time here.” His accent slipped a little, picking up a hint of the French that the area was so well known for.
Vicky raised an eyebrow as they walked on.
“I came to New Orleans in 1810.” Darien got that faraway look that he often had when remembering things from his past. “That was a different time. The area was being flooded with immigrants from the Haitian Revolution just a few years before. With the activ
e ports and the influx of people, this was the perfect place for vampires.” His demeanor took on that edge of danger that Vicky had learned stemmed from his darker nature. “No one questioned if someone went missing every now and then.” This was the side of Darien that scared Vicky. She had only seen it a few times, but it unnerved her to know that such darkness lurked in his soul.
“At that time, there were several masters in this city.” He looked around as if seeing the area in a different light. “Most of them are dead now, too eager in their lust for blood to not draw attention. I was always careful. Life is too precious to be taken so recklessly.” He caressed Vicky’s hand where it touched his arm. “But, like draws like, so I spent more than my fair share of time in their company. Fortunately, by that time, I was old enough to not be pressured into moving with the crowd.”
“You mean, other vampires could pressure you into things you didn’t want to do?” Vicky asked. It was hard to believe that anyone could force Darien into doing something he didn’t want to by peer pressure alone.
Darien smiled at her. “It was hard to go against what others of my kind were doing. A lesser vampire would have been looked down on as weak or afraid for taking the route I chose,” he explained. “Murder and death are part of what we are.”
Vicky shivered. “No,” she said, shaking her head and resting her other hand on top of his arm. “You’re not like that.”
Darien covered her hands with his again. “Yes. I am,” he answered. “I have been every bit the dark villain, and it will always be part of me.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
Darien paused to consider his answer. “At times.”
“And do you still?” Vicky pushed.
“Not so much anymore,” he answered truthfully.
They walked on in silence. The bit of green ahead of them opened up on both sides of the street. Vicky tore her mind from their conversation and looked around her. On the left side of the street was a line of carriages. Beyond them was a black, iron fence, separating the sidewalk from the famous Jackson Square. Wrapping around the edges of the square were the redbrick buildings with the amazing balconies that the area was known for. “Wow,” Vicky breathed in awe. They were as beautiful as she had imagined.