Vic & Pat's

1994

Patreous Leifanieu sauntered around the parlor with a silver-rimmed cocktail glass in his hand spouting his usual drunken nonsense. The room was lush, full of Victorian-era furniture and trinkets that he would never afford today. He stopped just short of a blue patterned chaise and turned to his husband. "You know my family would never stand for this," he muttered.

"Your family is dead," Victare said without compassion.

Patreous and Victare lived in a modest home built in the late nineteenth century overlooking the highway that ran alongside the beach of the Mississippi gulf coast. Patreous was born into significant wealth, but after the years passed and his family was all killed, he only had the grand furnishings from the much larger mansions that they inhabited, so their home felt much richer than it was.

He was gifted two things by the Dareeniou clan: his family's possessions and his life. However, they took over Patreous' family homes as their own where they had thrown exclusive parties for decades. He sold some very valuable paintings to an eccentric antique dealer down in New Orleans so he could afford to buy their house but kept what artifacts he could. They also gave him peace. They promised a truce to maintain order.

"You're a cunt for saying that." It was still light outside. Patreous pushed back the heavy velvet curtain and a beam of late evening sunlight poured into the parlor.

Victare winced, "Stop that."

Patreous released the curtain and continued, "I OWN this part of the coast. They cannot move at night as they please."

"How do you plan on stopping them?"

"I'll kill every single person that comes near our home if I must. I'm the only form shifter around and they know this," Patreous bragged. "They cannot hunt in our city and if another clan were, it would be in their best interest to stop to it."

"You know I support you, but are you fine with it? You can only hunt so much until you become... a bitch," Victare laughed.

"I'll be alright."

"I know, I just worry about you. Last time you hunted, you slept for a whole day," Victare said with an uncharacteristically concerned tone in his voice.

"It tires me."

"You know I can't protect myself if you are not awake." Victare was vampiric, but he did not seem to have any of the other gifts that could occasionally develop out of the heightened senses that came with it.

"It's fine," Patreous reassured but his husband was not so confident.

Victare stared at whatever book he was reading for the next ten minutes. Patreous walked over and poured him more bourbon.

"Are you hunting tonight," Victare asked.

"Yes."

Several minutes later there was a long knock on the front door. Patreous already knew it was Jana. "Damn, bitch, quit knocking and come in," he yelled.

She appeared in the doorway. "Nice to see you too," she snapped.

She was thirty years younger than what they appeared to be (but hundreds of years younger than their real age.) Her chin-length black bob was held back by a brightly colored wrap. She was loud and opinionated, but most importantly, even though they only recently became friends, loyal to the vampires.

She knew that Victare adored her the most, so she went straight for him and delicately kissed his cheek making a show of it while Patreous acted offended. She also knew that Patreous loved her but did not know how to express it except through catty remarks.

"You're drunk," she aimed at Patreous.

"It doesn't matter," he replied.

"Oh?"

"I'm hunting tonight."

"Then I'm glad I stopped by. You scared the shit out of the neighbors last time," she warned.

"I'm going farther out tonight."

Jana looked at him. She knew her neighbor's secrets and kept them faithfully. "Should I warn them?"

"No, I'm looking for something particular."

"Some... thing," she asked.

"I've sensed something flying around the city at night," Patreous explained. "I feel it all night long from midnight to just before dawn making large sweeping circles. And it stops to kill. I can't tell who or what, but probably stray cats." He unexpectedly threw his glass into the fireplace with a loud shatter. "It's my fucking city and I could kill every one of those fuckers tonight if I wanted to," he yelled and stormed out of the parlor and up the master staircase.

"Diva," Jana joked rolling her eyes. They were used to his theatrics.

Victare and Jana lounged together on the couch. He mostly quizzed her about her love life but as usual, she shied away from the topic. They knew to stay far from Patreous while he was preparing to hunt.

"He has every right to be upset. His family protected this city for over fifty years."

"Could he really kill them all?"

"Yes, but," he hesitated.

"But?"

"It would start a war. Maybe not right now, but down the line. His entire family is dead now and the Dareeniou could call in hundreds to fight."

"How many of them are here now," she asked.

"Maybe ten, but Pat is very strong. He has killed more than that before and lived."

"But he can't die, right?" she asked.

"It's complicated," Victare started to explain.

"GODDAMN RIGHT I CAN'T DIE," Patreous screamed from upstairs.

"I forget that bitch hears everything," she whispered.

Victare giggled.

"I heard that too," he yelled from the top of the stairs.

Patreous slowly descended the stairs putting one leg in front of the other like a smoky-voiced cabaret singer while Victare and Jana made their way to the foot. His lips and nails were like deep pink glass against his pale skin. A full-length, high collared purple cape dragged behind him parting just enough to show his toned physique and his black sequined underwear. Gaudy silver and gold bangles ran the length of both arms and the Leifanieu family crest dangled from a choker adorned with blood-red rubies. His mother's favorite chandelier earrings glistened in the light.

"Is this necessary?" Victare was embarrassed.

"It is only because I'm here," Jana joked.

"No, this is every time he hunts," he rolled his eyes.

They were being ignored. Patreous made his way out of the front door and onto the porch. He stood there taking in the coastal Mississippi night air as if he smelled something that the others didn't. His skin glistened unnaturally and began to radiate a pale, yellow glow. They watched as his body appeared to shrink and stretch into parts that were unnatural to the human form. Colorful feathers began to form on his body and wings. His cloak and the Leifanieu family jewels fell into a pile on the wooden porch. In the final stage of his transformation, his skin turned to the dark glossy pink from his lipstick.

The form of a very large raven that looked to be made from pink patent leather leaped from the porch of their home and soared into the night sky towards the gulf.

"Do you need another drink?" Jana asked as she bent over and picked up the sparkly G-string laying on top of the mound of costume jewelry.

"Yes."