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Satiated with Louis’ warm, heavily alcohol-laced blood, I resumed my path back to his home in Louisiana. I was determined to grant him the Dark Gift, to turn him into one of my kind. Oh, Louis — that mortal who stirred in me the most tender and human of feelings a creature of darkness could ever experience; that mortal who captivated me with both his quiet beauty and his delicate gestures and mysterious aura — would become my fledgling, my lover, the companion who would share with me the life Marius once spoke of in his Mediterranean refuge. And I would do whatever I could to ensure his loyalty and complete devotion to me, his maker.
As I walked through the utterly silent alleys, free of any presence — human or otherwise — I observed the culmination of that beautiful night in New Orleans. Amid a vast tapestry of stars rose the New Moon, which, for the more superstitious, signified a period of renewal, of beginnings. It struck me as poetic and, in that moment, deeply true. Louis and I would, undoubtedly, begin writing a fascinating chapter in our stories starting that very night.
I closed my eyes for a moment, still feeling the ecstasy that had overtaken me when I finally tasted his human essence — the sweet flavor of the substance that allowed him to live... his delicious blood. When I attacked him and sank my fangs into the tender flesh of his neck, a torrent of pleasurable sensations surged through my body, starved as it was for the vampire’s nectar. Never had I held him so close before, and I could now better appreciate his fine features. There was something in them that reminded me of Nicki — perhaps that naive expression, that melancholic depth so similar to my beloved violinist’s. Yet Louis’s sturdy frame lent him a virility that Nicki had never possessed, not even after I had turned him.
Louis had struggled against me, flailing his arms in a desperate attempt to push me away, but it was all in vain. Thanks to the regenerative blood of my dear goddess Akasha, I was far stronger than any mortal — and stronger still than many of the ancient immortals. I found myself aroused by his relentless fight to survive. Even inebriated and half-conscious, he continued to resist, cursing me, until finally I felt the weight of his body give in to my arms. I hadn’t killed him, of course — I had only taken enough to weaken him, just enough for the transformation to come later. Gently, I laid him down on the pavement outside a house near his own, so his family would find him before dawn.
Now I stood once more at the scene of the attack, only a few steps from my beloved Louis’s property. I continued on until I faced his modest, gloomy façade — the most noble house on that street, despite its somber appearance. With inhuman dexterity, I climbed the tall rustic wooden gates and slipped into the courtyard, moving silently through the flowers and towering trees of the beautiful garden, now bathed in the milky light of the moon. I remained still before the window to his bedroom, watching his vulnerable figure lying in bed beside his young sister, who slumbered deeply. I could see his eyes fixed in my direction; there was no doubt he sensed someone watching. Had he recognized me? I wasn’t sure. His thoughts were a blur, flickering images flowing in a disjointed stream — incomprehensible, even under the probing of my Mind Gift.
Carefully, I unlatched the window and slipped inside the room. Drawing on my spectral appearance, I moved with almost ghostly grace to the bed where his sister lay. She was a creature of incomparable beauty, her sweet and vivid face still radiant even in the depths of slumber. I spotted a shawl on the bedside table and picked it up. Then I gently placed it over her eyes and dimmed the glow of the lamp.
For a moment, I found myself once again mesmerized by the serenity that emanated from the young mortal, her long black curls cascading over the pillow, the soft rhythm of her heartbeat echoing in my ears, her fresh blood pulsing powerfully through her veins. I could smell the sweet fragrance of her skin invading my senses, awakening my instincts — a faint thirst, a primitive call rising within me with treacherous ease. But no. That was not my purpose. It was not for her that I longed.
I stepped away from her bed and turned to her brother.
Louis’s face was marred by bruises and shallow cuts — the result of brutal blows delivered by criminals and drunkards he had entangled himself with in a desperate attempt to surrender to death. His body now appeared weakened, deathly pale, and eerily expressionless. Those magnificent, glittering green eyes that once seduced me with their intensity were now dulled, as if they could no longer make sense of the world around him.
But I was wrong. Louis had recognized me.
When I tried once more to enter his mind — this time successfully — I discovered that Louis, at first, believed the tall, composed man with flowing golden hair who entered his room quietly was a doctor, or perhaps some spiritual leader called by his family to offer aid. But as I approached his bed, Louis began to study my features more closely, realizing this silhouette was not that of a natural being. The brilliant violet eyes glowing under the gentle lamplight, the smooth and polished, almost luminescent skin, the long fingers tipped with glass-like nails — none of it was human. Then, my mind was suddenly filled with vivid flashes — the moment I had attacked him, memories pulled from his own consciousness. He knew who I was. Or rather, what I was. And in the instant our eyes met in the shadowed room, he knew his fate was sealed.
“It was you…” Louis whispered, his voice calm as he looked upon my face. There was a blend of awe and fascination in his expression.
“Yes, my sweet Louis, you are right,” I said, leaning a little closer and gently brushing my fingers across his cheek. He did not pull away — only registered a quiet surprise at the intimacy of my touch. “I’ve been watching you for some time now…”