La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (12 page)

"This is ridiculous."

"You know what happened to that girl, don't
you? You saw her the night she died."

"How -?"

He smiled at her shocked expression. "I saw
it in my tea leaves."

This entire conversation was like a page from
some bad sci-fi book.

"Just stay away from me," he said with firm
finality, spitting on the ground again. He flashed the "horn"
gesture at her, fingers pointed downward, before turning and
disappeared into the crowd.

Julia rolled her eyes. So much for getting
answers.

She glanced around at the few fortune tellers
set up near her. Maybe one of them would share a little insight.
Except every time Julia managed to catch their gazes, each and
every one immediately, and very deliberately, looked away.

"Fine," she said out loud to them, not caring
that she probably looked like a loon since no one was actually
looking at her, and she was talking into the air. "Whatever. I'll
find my answers somewhere else."

She headed towards the cathedral and sat on
one of the metal benches facing the entrance to the massive,
off-white church. What a pain in the ass. Couldn't the fortune
teller just give her one direct answer? Like, "Aaack, you're going
to turn into a vampire!" Or, "You will meet a sexy vampire and fall
for him." Or even, "You are a crazy bitch, filled with delusional
fantasies about said, sexy vampires." Instead, she got some vague
mention of an unholy act. For all she knew, this
unholy act
could be sex before marriage or a hit off a bong.

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.