NEW ORLEANS, 1860
I HAVE BEEN ALIVE SINCE 1776, and have seen everything. Yet nothing can deny me the beauty that is the beauty of the judge’s daughter, Marguerite Pierre. A woman in her teens with curly dark hair and deep brown eyes, she is Creole and her family has been here for only a while now and when I had arrived in New Orleans; I had been given the opportunity to stay on their property. Tonight, to celebrate the fact that Judge Pierre had won a case so as music was in full swing – I move through the crowd to find Marguerite.
Here she was, dressed in red and a flock of men surrounds her yet she pays no attention to them. Moment her eyes meet mine, she excuses herself. I offer her my hand and the two of us move to the dance floor. Truth be told, I have been courting her in secret for a while now, and she knows what I am.
“Louis,” She says quietly, “I have decided what I want.”
“Marguerite…” I warned, “You do not want this life.”
“I know exactly what I want,” She says, her eyes piercing into mine, “and you are what I want.”
“Then meet me at the guest house at midnight,” I tell her, “tell no one where you are going.”
She smiles, as the party dies out – I find myself waiting in the night. Listening for the sound of Marguerite’s heart. Nothing, yet. Without a sound, I was at her door. I open the door to reveal Clay Laurent. Blood on his hands and my Marguerite lay dead on the ground.
“What have you done?” I ask, containing myself before thinking of ripping his throat out.
“I… I wanted her to choose me…” Clay stammers
In a speed faster than he can blink, I had him at the throat against the wall. My fangs make their appearance as I felt my rage boil over.
“SHE WAS MINE.”
Tears flooded his eyes as he managed to speak, “I… didn’t… mean… to hurt her.”
“I should skin you alive,” I hissed, “or cut you from your groin to throat.”
I let him go, dropping him on the floor. He laid on the floor, muttering nonsense as he curled into a ball and sobbed.
“No… I have a better punishment for you,” I say, hovering over him.
“What… what are you going to do to me?” He asked, quivering.
“I will let you live with your mistakes, I will let you watch those you love - slowly waste away,” I said, “I will make you into what I am, a vampire.”
I grab him again and in a second, my fangs pierce is his neck. Draining him dry and then dropping his corpse before making a cut in my wrist and hovering it over his mouth. He awakes, coughing as if he had been saved from drowning. I grab him by the fabric of his shirt; a growl erupting from my throat, “You will live forever with the haunting image of Marguerite Pierre, the love of my life. It is of your selfishness, that I curse you. For eternity. To watch those you care for, wither away.”
I venture out into the night, parting from Clay and away from Louisiana.