Chapter 2

In the morning, I awoke dazed, confused, and alone. I felt like I had a hangover for the first few minutes, but then my head cleared. The first thing that came to mind was “one night stand,” and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I groaned, I couldn’t believe I fell into bed with a complete stranger—an absolute stranger! We had barely exchanged names before we were rolling around in bed together. But it was sooo good. It had been so long. And it had been good, really good. Oh, so knee-shaking good. Better than anyone—human or otherwise—that I had been with before.

My mind was still reeling, thoughts shooting around in circles as I thought about the night before. Trying to clear my head, I sighed and rolled over to find a note on the pillow next to me.

'Liz Beth, I am gone for now, but not to be forgotten. Meet me at the corner of Bourbon and Canal Street at sunset. Christien.'

His handwriting was very old-fashioned and elegant, which was unusual for such a young man. But I did not dwell on his handwriting; I couldn’t wait to see him again. He had me mesmerized. I felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

How could I be reacting like this? I didn’t know anything about this man, except that I wanted him, I craved him. He was a stranger to me, yet he seemed so familiar. He had me in a trance. One part of me could not believe that I was suddenly having a wild affair with a stranger. It was so unlike me. I had to shake myself and remember that I still had to focus on why I was in New Orleans. It was time that I found out more about Quillon and what he wanted from me.

As I gathered my things to get dressed, I wondered if Christien had seen the arsenal in my duster: a dagger, three throwing knives, and an assortment of Chinese throwing stars. He hadn’t mentioned them. Seeing something like that in a girl’s coat was bound to scare a guy away, but he still seemed interested. I did not want to scare this guy away.

***

As I left Christien’s hotel, I had to get my bearings. He was in the Royal Sonesta. Fancy, schmancy, I thought. Marble floors. Gilt and gold everywhere. It was beautiful. The epitome of a luxury hotel. No wonder his room was so posh.

The Royal Sonesta was right on Bourbon Street in the middle of all the hustle, bustle, and noise of the French Quarter. I had to walk a couple of blocks to get to my hotel down on Chartres Street, the old Le Richelieu Hotel. It had once been a mansion but did not compare at all to the posh elegance of the Royal Sonesta. One night at the Sonesta would set me back way too much. I was a tightwad, and I preferred to stay in much humbler and quieter quarters. Even though I was still pretty much in the Quarter, being off Bourbon made a great deal of difference.

I returned to my hotel room and unpacked my things. Then, I called my research assistant, Carrie, at my tiny little office in L.A. She was a college student, and probably the closest thing to a friend that I had. I let her stay at my apartment above the office since I was never there. In exchange for room and board, she kept the business running. She let me know when prospective clients called, and she kept track of sightings and reports of paranormal activity while I was gone. The office didn’t look like much, but I did have a lot of expensive equipment that I didn’t want to be stolen.

That was the reason I needed to call her. I wanted to make sure my equipment had arrived safely from Paris. I had it shipped to my office instead of dragging it to New Orleans with me. Since this was a Quillon excursion, I did not figure that I would need all of my ghost-hunting stuff—not that I needed any equipment anyway. I usually had no problem seeing and speaking to ghosts on my own, but sometimes clients wanted proof. The best proof I could give them were photos, sound recordings, and something to show the changes in electromagnetic energy and temperature.

I spoke to Carrie, and she confirmed that my equipment had arrived safely and that everything was fine. She probed me about my trip, sensing something different in my voice. But I wasn’t ready to jinx anything by telling her about Christien too early. I wanted to make sure he came around for a second date. Our first encounter could be considered a first date, right?

After the conversation, I spent the day doing research at the library. I rummaged through piles of old books, trying to find anything I could about vampires in New Orleans—or Quillon. All I found was a couple of dusty old manuscripts, which were handwritten in French. One book— at least from what I could make out from the title, 'L’Amour du Vampyre'— had something to do with vampires, but I wasn’t sure what. It could have been fiction. I’d have to work on translating it. The other one seemed to be about the wealthy families of New Orleans in the 1800s. Most of the ink in the books was faded and unreadable, but I checked them out anyway. I figured I could go through them to see if I could find something legible.

After leaving the library, the books faded from my mind, and I found myself going back and forth thinking about Christien and Quillon. One moment, I would be concentrating on Quillon. The next moment, I would have a flashback from the night before with Christien, and my knees would get weak. For so long, I had dreamt about Quillon, first imagining him as my guardian angel, then later imagining him in a much more carnal light. But Quillon was always so ice cold in my dreams. He was so distant, a fantasy but not flesh—at least not yet, not to me. Christien was so warm, so non-vampirish, so human.

Christien was a man—a real man—and being with him rivaled the dreams and images I had of Quillon. I felt myself being torn between a shadow and a stranger. Could it get any more complicated?

I was feeling run down and my head ached. I decided I needed some caffeine. I found the Café du Monde on Decatur, right on the edge of Jackson Square. The square was full of a variety of people: street musicians, artists, a dreaded mime, several fortune tellers, and other people from all walks of life. I sat down at a small table, sipped at my pick-me-up-in-a-cup—a delicious café au lait while nibbling on a beignet—and people-watched.

My life was usually focused on the dead, the undead, or other strange preternatural occurrences. I often forgot about the humanity that surrounded me. They laughed, they danced, and they seemed to be having a good time. Teenagers hung out with their friends while tourists had their fortunes told and dropped money into the jars and hats of the artists and musicians. It was a beautiful slice-of-life scene. So every day, I thought. So normal. I was lost in it.

Suddenly, I realized the sun was hanging low in the sky. It was getting late. I had to rush back to my hotel, drop off the books, and get cleaned up. I was all dusty from digging around in the library, and I couldn’t meet Christien looking all disheveled.

I took an ultra-quick shower and dolled myself up as best I could with what I had available, which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. I hadn’t packed for dating. Jeans and a tight T-shirt would have to work this time. I scurried out of the hotel and practically ran the whole way to him. I was out of breath by the time I met Christien, promptly at sunset, at the corner of Canal and Bourbon Streets.

He smiled as I ran up to him. I was huffing and puffing, completely out of breath. Good job, Liz! Score another dork point for you, I thought. I could have tried for a sexier arrival and maybe sauntered up like a sex goddess a few minutes fashionably late. Instead, I was like a love-struck teenager who couldn’t wait to be with him. I was just staring at him and following along with whatever he wanted. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind.

He took me on a carriage ride around the city. He seemed very knowledgeable about New Orleans's history, and he told me many stories that the tour guides had not. He also told me about all the Halloween festivities that would be going on that weekend.

“I would be honored if you would attend the Vampire Ball and Dark Masquerade Ball with me this weekend.” He sounded so formal. And, even though I wasn’t too experienced with the whole dating scene, I was sure most guys would just say, “Hey, you want to go a Halloween thing with me this weekend?”

“They sound like fun, but I don’t have any costumes,” I replied, mentally calculating how much money I could get away with spending on something as frivolous as a costume. Yet, I really, really wanted to go out with Christien. Could I bring myself to fork out the dough for costumes? Although my grandmother had left me some money, I’d chosen to live strictly off the money I made. So far, I had not touched the inheritance. I guess I wasn’t ready to accept that she was gone.

“This is New Orleans. There are plenty of places to buy extravagant costumes. I will take you so we can pick out some for you,” Christien replied, pulling me out of the memories of my grandmother.

I couldn’t object. I couldn’t even open my mouth to protest. Instead, I just nodded. Does this man always get what he wants?

He had the carriage take us to several costume stores. The first couple did not have anything that suited me. The third store had a one-of-a-kind gothic-style ball gown, made with iridescent black satin and lace. It was perfect for the Vampire Ball. When I tried it on, I could not believe my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a beautiful vampire princess if there was such a thing. I walked out of the dressing room to show Christien. His jaw dropped then he smiled.

“That gown was made for you. You look stunning.”

The dress hugged my upper body and accented my full cleavage. The lace-up corset-style top made my breasts spill out over the top of the gown. It fit like a glove. It did seem as though it had been made just for me. The satin glimmered and changed color as I twirled in front of the mirror. The dress made me feel beautiful, and the way Christien looked at me while I was wearing it made me feel sexy. He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

“I will have the most beautiful vampire at the ball,” he said. “Now we need to find you a costume for the Masquerade Ball; it just wouldn’t do to wear the same costume to both balls.”

Oh, of course not, I thought to myself while worrying about paying for two costumes instead of just one. But as I started to pull out my credit card, Christien told me to put it away. This was to be his treat. I grumbled as Christien purchased the gown for me. I was beginning to see that he did always get what he wanted. That idea thrilled and scared me at the same time.

“I will get more pleasure from looking at you in that dress than you will from wearing it. Think of it as a gift to myself,” he said. He wore a wickedly irresistible grin that sent shivers across my flesh. How could I say no to that?

The shopkeeper wrapped the dress up, and then we were on our way. At the last store we went to, the Little Shop of Fantasy, I was enthralled by a large pair of black wings and a feathered black mask. The wings were made with real feathers, which were so shiny; they seemed to glow in the light.

“You like the wings?” Christien asked.

“Yes, but what would I wear with them?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see if we can find something.”

We scoured the store until we found a sheer black dress and matching stiletto heels. Christien joined me in the dressing room as I tried them on. Oh, my, I thought. The dress hugged every curve of my body, and my nipples were teasingly shown through the sheer fabric. Was that me in the mirror? I had never seen myself look so…so…erotic. “C’est ci bon. Oui, oui. It was made for you.” When he spoke French, the cadence of his voice was like déjà vu. A delicious tickle in the back of my mind tried to make me remember something, but then it was gone as he stepped closer to me. “You will be my sexy dark angel at the ball,” he whispered in my ear as he nuzzled seductively at my neck.

His warm breath sent shivers of anticipation through my body. The dress made me feel dark and sexual. I wanted him. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. I could feel his erection pressing against me. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

He slid the straps of the dress off my shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor. I removed my underwear and stood in front of him with just the black stilettos on.

“You are so beautiful, so irresistible,” he said as he removed his clothing.

He pressed his naked body to mine. I was already wet with anticipation. He turned me around and pressed me against the mirror. I watched his reflection as he moved to enter me. He was as hard as steel. His strong hands gripped my waist; his large cock parted my damp folds and plunged into my wet heat. I moaned loudly, forgetting where we were. I watched, entranced, as our bodies blended and moved. My hard nipples pressed against the cool glass as I arched my lower body so I could take more of him inside me. He thrust in and out of me, hard and fast. The heat built and built until we both exploded.

It happened so fast, but it was the most erotic encounter I had ever experienced.

We got dressed and walked back out into the store so we could purchase the dress, wings, and shoes. I felt flushed and satiated. I could have sworn that the guy behind the counter winked at Christien as he handed him the bags. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel embarrassed. I was still glowing from that unexpected rendezvous in the dressing room. Little Shop of Fantasy it was, I thought.

After that, Christien had the carriage take us to the Moonwalk. We strolled along, right next to the Mississippi River. Like two teenagers in love, we held hands. It was like walking in the clouds of our own little world. We were giggling and laughing and just enjoying being with each other. He fascinated me with tales of riverboats, the old steamboats, and gambling from days gone by. It was almost as if he had been there, but it was so long ago. He told the tales with such finesse. The man should be a writer, I thought to myself.

After strolling for a couple of hours around the Moonwalk, he escorted me back to the carriage and had the driver take me to my hotel. It was getting very late, but I was disappointed that our night had come to an end.

Before getting out of the carriage, Christien pulled me into his arms. His strength once again enveloped me, and I was lost in his scent. I didn’t want to let go of him. His sweet lips gently grazed mine, then pressed harder, demanding my response. I eagerly returned the kiss, hoping I could entice him up to my room. His passionate embrace left me wanting much more than just a kiss. He pulled away. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I had hoped he would join me in my hotel room for round two.

“I am sorry. I have to be going. I don’t want to leave you, Liz, but I have a lot of business meetings this week. I promise I will try to see you as much as possible. I will be in touch, my love,” he said as he helped me down from the carriage.

He climbed back in the carriage while I stood in front of my hotel. He blew me a kiss, and then he was gone. I watched as the carriage took him into the night and away from me. I felt empty without him.