Chelsea & Lestat (Part One)
Long dark hallways. Walls made of stone. Large intricate windows stained blood red. Decaying tapestries lining the cold hard walls. A haunting moon shining precious light into the corridors. A lone figure stands underneath an archway. Midnight black cape billows with the night air. Slender white hand outstretched before me in offering.
And then I wake up.
My dreams always seem to lead me in a direction or offer some sort of strange insight into what may happen. The only problem is that I never know how soon these directions or insights become apparent. It could be tomorrow or it could be several years from now when the dream is tucked away far into the dark recesses of my mind. I don't like to think of myself as being able to see into the future, since I never actually 'see' the future. I see strange flashes or odd metaphors of what is soon to happen and its up to me to put pieces together and make sense of things. And yet sometimes, its my dreams that keep me sane and keep my life more simple.
But my life is nothing but simple. The world is not so kind, I'm afraid. I'm one of the few souls that reaches into the darkest pit of the world to remove the waste. I pull the thorn from the lion's paw of the world every night. I'm a vigilante that travels the world, bringing justice with one act at a time. I pick my targets carefully. I know what my limits are and what I can or can't safely accomplish. I've done everything from listening in on police radios to scanning through crimes hidden away in the 'deep web'.
And the 'deep web' is the tool I was using at this point. After I woke, the sun had set a long time ago and the bright fluorescent lights burned into the small hotel room I was holed up in. It was a nice room filled with clean linen, bottles of water, ice bucket and a small tv for watching local channels. The air conditioner hummed loudly as it lurched to life to fight the muggy New Orleans night. A month ago I encountered a strange chat room hidden away in the internet called 'Beautiful People. Beautiful Things'. The chat room was used by users all over the world to talk about deeds they have done. They spoke of sodomizing their wives, mistresses, housekeepers, stepdaughters and alter boys. Stories of stalking solitary victims. And of course, pics or it didn't happen, right? I had tightly clenched my fists as I scrolled through the chat room to see pictures of women chained, beaten, scarred, branded and broken.
But one user made it to my shitlist almost immediately. His username on the site was 'MagisterWolf'. His chats were filled to the brim with sexist, racist and downright terrifying material. He had stalked a young African American woman nearly every night as she used public transportation to make her way home. Earlier posts shown the woman sitting in a bus terminal on her phone, walking to a bus stop, hailing a cab and walking down a neighborhood street. My heart was breaking to see how young and beautiful the woman was. Later text filled posts were created in a rage. The man had approached the young woman one night and to his dismay, the woman was actually a transexual. This had sent 'MagisterWolf into a mad frenzy. The last photo post from him was a slightly blurry picture of an African American figure face down in a muddy swamp bank and the caption 'Had a good time anyways, fuckers'.
I tracked 'MagisterWolf''s IP to New Orleans and I quickly traveled here from my last location. This was the night I was going to call him out of his hiding spot. When I logged onto the strange chat room he was already there, as if he knew to wait on me.
'Hey Wolfie, want to have an even better time?'
Two hours had passed and I was perched on a wooden rafter in an old transit station. Instead of a full building, this transit station was a large old wooden covered platform. The few homeless people that had shuffled about the station had left after the last bus had gone and security shoo'd them away. Security had left too, fortunately and this gave me the perfect set up to take down 'Magister'. He had seemed overwhelmed to have someone want to meet him alone in his own home town. Now I sat perched here, in waiting. My long brown hair held back tightly in a ponytail and my face covered with a red and white kitsune mask. My body was clad in a black jumpsuit and my heavy steel toed boots. My wrists and forearms covered in dull silver gauntlets and my sword at my back still sheathed. It was weighted just right for me and felt better in my hands than any gun ever will.
I heard my phone vibrate next to me on the platform softly and the dimly lit screen was a text message notification. I lifted the little dummy prepaid phone to read the message. I had offered the number to 'Magister' before leaving my hotel so that I would know when he was near me and he hadn't disappointed me. The message was his alert to let me know that he was nearly here. My heart was beating faster after I read the message. My palms grew a little sweaty as my plan to bring justice for the poor soul that was probably taken from a bus terminal just like this one.
I finally saw him approach the terminal. A stocky older white man with blackish gray hair walked onto the platform underneath where I sat perched. He wore business casual and his hand was holding a phone which he was using to text. I held the button on my own phone to silence the vibrations as he sent me another message asking where I was. He looked like some kind of office fat cat that got his rocks off by strangling young girls. My other hand gripped the hilt of my sword tightly, knuckles white under my black leather gloves.
But before I could make the leap of death, another figure strolled casually onto the platform underneath me. This figure was a much taller male. He was allot younger too, early twenties, like me. He had bright wavy blond hair tied back loosely and wore black leather pants and a casual dark blue shirt. Even from up high I could see silver glistening on his pale fingers and neck.
"Excuse me, the last bus hasn't left yet, has it?", the young man asked, a very faint french accent poured from his lips.
"Are you fucking serious? Its midnight, buddy. That bus left a long ass time ago", 'Magister' replied gruffly. His fingers were hitting the buttons of his phone in an irritated fashion. My phone dimly let again beside me.
"Ah jeez, well that's just great.", the young man said, sarcasm dripping from his words like fine honey.
Just leave. Just leave. Just leave. Just leave. Please, just go. I thought over and over again, my heart beating faster in anxiety. I couldn't lose him here, not with him so close.
"Hey buddy, do you need me to call you a cab or something?", Magister asked the young man, his voice filled with annoyance. He wanted him to leave just as much as I did.
"Oh would you?! That would be great!", the young man exclaimed.
Magister took a few steps and turned away from the young man, his eyes scanning the terminal for the young woman he was supposed to meet. I couldn't have him leaving yet. I took my phone in hand and sent him a quick message that I would appear as soon as the other guy left. When I looked away from my phone, my heart leapt out of my chest. The young man was looking dead at me. Dead. Fucking. At. Me. His bright blue eyes seemed to pierce right through my kitsune mask and into my soul. A sly grin spread across his face and he winked at me. The bastard winked at me. Okay, target number two sighted.
"Okay buddy, your cab is on its way, it'll pick you up at the gas station down the street", Magister came back and replied.
"Thanks, David, but I think I'll stay right here with you".
"How the fuck do you know who I am?! Who the fuck sent you?! That bitch from the chatroom?!", Magister immediately wailed.
"The screams of your victims sent me, David. Ah, I've hungered for an evil as delicious as yours".
What the fuck is going on? I wondered.Is he another vigilante? Did he spy on our chat and want in on the fun?
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm an honorable and nice man. I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Oh no, you didn't do anything wrong when you molested poor Michael because he wanted to be called Michelle and you threw her body into the dirty swamp", the young man practically purred.
Oh hell no, this is my target! I thought.
I leapt down from the rafters, my sword unsheathed and glistening in the night. But as I nailed my landing I saw the young man grab hold on my target and go for the neck. With his mouth.
Okay, I've seen some weird shit. I've been through some shit, let me tell you. But I've never seen anything like this. It was like you see in the vampire movies, but in real life. Magister was squirming and growling, trying to rip the young man off of him until his body fell limp and crashed down onto the pavement cruelly. Blood was smeared around thick puncture wounds on his neck and blood pooled underneath his head.
The young man turned to face me, my sword still readied in front of me. His eyes were shining so brilliantly in the night, like a sapphire. a few tufts of blond hair hung in his face, having been torn from their loose tie by the struggle. He was still grinning at me and he bowed at me gently.
"I apologize for taking the pleasure of delivering his death, young lady. I'm sure no word of this will leave the two of us, now will it?", he asked of me. His voice was far too lighthearted for what just transpired.
"And what if it does?", I said coldly, my hands gripping my sword tighter.
"I always have room for dessert", the man purred dangerously stepping closer.
"And I always have room for more targets", I stated. He was started to take steps around me, as if accessing me. I paced with him, as though we were in the beginning stages of a waltz, and walked in a circle, never facing away from one another. I wanted nothing more than to wipe that grin from his face when I saw him tilt his face at me gently.
"Come now, Chelsea. Put the sword down. You can trust me"
"The whole mauling bit precedes my own habits in this situation".
"Ah, but you don't take orders too well anyways, do you love?".
"The whole mauling bit precedes my own habits in this situation".
We stood still after coming full circle. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead underneath my kitsune mask and my breathing felt ragged. Even though my face was fully hidden behind my mask, I felt naked and vulnerable under his gaze. I was watching him like a hawk and every movement caused my hands to twitch, ready to swing my sword at any second. I saw his hand stretch out before me and I held my breath as my instinct took over and my blade sliced into the back of his hand. Usually a strike like that would've taken off my opponents hand, but this guy must have been tougher than I gave him credit for. But what happened next almost caused me to drop my sword. The long red slash across the back of his hand was healing. In a matter of seconds, the pale flesh looked as though I never touched him.
He sighed softly, closing his eyes for a moment. "I don't normally do this, but I'll make an exception, for you".
When his eyes opened once more I felt a pulse travel through my body. My vision seemed to glaze over and my tongue felt numb. I couldn't form coherent thoughts and my mind felt like it was being wiped clean. I felt the hilt of my heavy sword fall from my hands and the loud clatter it made as it his the pavement. I was standing straight, my hands hanging loosely at my side. All I could focus on was how beautiful the man standing before me was. My new vision made his eyes seem even more blue, impossibly blue. His hair seemed so soft and his skin almost too touchable. I saw his lips moving and heard his voice echoing inside my mind.
"Take off your mask, Chelsea"
I felt the material of my mask fall away from my face, my hands letting it fall to the pavement next to my sword. My face was fully exposed to an enemy and I couldn't do anything. I tried to move, to do something as small as wiggle my finger, but nothing would budge without his say.
"Take your hair down for me", the man said as he walked closer to me, his hand coming up to grasp at my chin and tilt my face up just a little so that my vision was filled with his stare. I felt my hands numbly pull the hair tie from my pony tail, my long hair falling like a shroud around my figure. The man took strands of my hair and held them in his hand, careful not to tug or pull my hair too hard.
"So soft and beautiful, like you", he whispered. "Now, doesn't this feel better?"
"Yes", my answer was automatic and my voice sounded miles away. I had to snap out of this before I end up on the pavement too.
The man smoothed back my hair lovingly and leaned close, his lips lighting my skin on fire as they traced a path down my temple to my jaw softly.
I finally found a shred of strength to clench my fists tightly as I felt his lips place a soft kiss against my neck. His arm came around my waist like a steel vice. Kiss after kiss was placed on my neck and it was getting harder to focus on snapping out of this trance with each one. His lips hit the spot of my neck where neck meets shoulder and I heard a soft moan escape my lips. A deep chuckle resounded in my ears.
"As beautiful as that sounds, I'd much rather hear those noises come from you when you're clear headed and not fighting me", he said and just like that my vision cleared and I had full control of my body. I quickly took several steps away from the man.
"What...Who are you?", I demanded shakily.
"I am the Vampire Lestat, and I'll be seeing you again, very soon, mon chere!".
And with that he was gone, and I stood in the empty bus terminal in New Orleans, a dead body merely a few feet away, my sword and mask on the pavement and my world completely rocked.