Why doesn’t he (Flannery) see? Am I the only one that can put the puzzle pieces in to place? He is dead yet looks alive, he smokes yet cannot respire, he is a puppet of Satan that pleads his case on holy ground, ground that been re built upon time and again in different guises, and he talks lies to me like I wouldn’t see past his forked tongue! He is dangerous. I do not like him.
Jed is wisely standing outside on the other side of the street. Augustine, not the Saint, is kneeling at a grave. Maybe he has a relative here, he said something about a little girl. I thought maybe he was hunting, but little girls are really not his style.
The way the clouds move over the image of the glowing moon make it look like a reflection rippling in the night time sea. I look away. The three of us talk about something and then it hits me! Could my blood that keeps me free from ailments be refined to vaccinate humans against disease without bonding them to me? I must try this theory out at the next available opportunity. Jed seems to have a hard time understanding what I’m saying, that happens some times. It’s funny how people have difficulties keeping up with me when I’m explaining things to them, it’s like they just don’t or maybe can’t, hear what I’m trying to say. Oh well. We soldier on and eventually we are all on the same page. I used to have a Ghoul called Paige, it seemed that her mind was not strong enough to cope with here love for me and she went completely insane. Pity.
Then what happened…Ah, Jed flagged down a taxi, and finally we went back home. It was good that I went back home as something had been bugging me all night, and when I walked through the door and saw my beloved Amy I remembered. She needed to feed from me. Excellent, I so enjoy being able to let go. I have learnt my lesson and I waited for Jed to get to the house, he seemed to be taking his sweet time about it, but when he finally arrived I told him that though we had some important topics to discus I really had to feed Amy for she was growing very weak. Good ol’ Jed just nodded that nod that says yes I understand, and Amy and I went off to do..well…yes.
I wonder where Augustine got to?
Blankets, blood, sweat, decent, teeth, darkness, warmth, blood, sent, broken, excitement, plans, flesh, tears, joy, blood.
I don by lab coat and ascend the stairs to my lab. ‘Do Not Disturb’. I work for a time, fully invigorated by my time with Amy, she always gets my creative juices flowing.
Microscopes, Petri dishes, darkness, samples, virus’, humour, bile, cells, broken, scalpel, testing, plans, failure, notes.
I shower and make myself presentable after my work. It did not go well but nothing is an utter failure, I just need to know more.
I join everyone else in the kitchen. Jed is cleaning a gun and I think I should do some more target shooting, it has been a while and it is thoroughly enjoyable. Augustine is reading another of the books from the collection and is perched on a counter like bird of prey. Whilst I was working they found a place called Mama Bell’s Palmistry or something along those lines, and they have decided we should go there. Now I am always up for a good Witch Hunt but I don’t think now is the time. It seems they have their heart set on the idea however, so we head out. It was raining. Little shards of reality are reflected in the droplets. We get another taxi to the French Quarter and leave my perfectly good vehicles behind.
The French Quarter is horrid. People mill about like worker ants swarming through a nest. Lurid colours insult the architecture of the buildings. Black music screeches from doorways and windows and inebriated fools bump into us as they stumble along killing themselves slowly with liver failure.
Humm, the more I think about it, the more I like this place. It’s like a sickly soup of fake feelings and hidden sorrow. Drown your pain in drink, hide the cracks with bright flags and lights and paint, dance and flirt and fuck your emptiness away. I love the French Quarter.
We find the witches store advertising Tarot, Palm reading, and other dark arts. Inside a young couple are having their heads filled with drivel, it’s entertaining to watch. On the veranda sits a large old woman knitting. I begin by inquisition.
Do you practice? I ask.
Yes, she replies. Openly admitting it, oh how times have changed.
Do my cards? I ask.
Yes, she replies.
We walk into the building and Augustine follows, Jed remains ever vigilante outside. He is a nervous one.
I sit down and the woman shuffles her cards. I check the flashes of skin for marks and blemishes, she seems clean yet she is mostly covered. Then she begins her reading. I am blown over with her accuracy, she obviously has a gift, maybe she is like me, well, not exactly like me but maybe she see more than most. I get lost in her words. A talent like this should not be wasted, but she is a whore of Satan, then again, so am I. I answer her questions and then she stops, a moment of revelation travels across her face. She’s knows I am more than human, she invites us to see her mistress and then I realised that she is a Ghoul. Ah, I see, I’ve been a bit slow on the uptake, my mind was on more important things obviously.
All three of us are invited upstairs to meet the mistress, the Camarilla Queen of New Orleans. How exciting. I must remember to feed Michael before the night is through. I sit, as does Jed, or maybe he stood with Augustine, or did he sit? They both did something, it matters not. Ah, Augustine did peep through a beaded curtain and then sharply turned and knelt somewhere. A young, painfully stunning woman enters the room. She can’t have been much older than 17/18 when she became a vestal of Satan. He is indiscriminate I guess. Her skin looks like you could make the comfiest shirt out of it. Her hair looks so soft if you were to touch it you would feel nothing. She has a face that would make my heart skip several beats if that was still possible. She is a bomb concealed in a Fabergé egg, and she knows it, and she knows I know it.
She and I have a great discussion about the state of affairs in New Orleans. With all she says the purist words she utters are ‘I want my city back’. I felt the truth of that sentence to my very core, it stood out like a shining light past her beauty and silver tongue. As we talk Jed seems uncomfortable but I know not why. Something about Archons or something. The Queen makes me an offer and I think about it. It all seems perfectly reasonable to me. It’s very refreshing to meet a person in a court that gives me the time of day let alone talks to me with a level of respect and decorum. I like this Queen, I can see her and she doesn’t try to hide, well not from me anyway.
The talk is over and we leave the building. I will write my reply to the Queen at my next convenience, but now I am hungry.