The Last of the Romanovs

I

 Anastasia rolled her eyes at the rowdiness that was taking place outside her door. It was another of Marcel's "Fight Nights" which meant that soon some small insignificant vampire would be receiving a daylight ring; they would be given the honor of being invited into the man's inner circle. However, what the nightwalkers or even some of the daylighters didn't know was that within Marcel's inner circle there was another inner circle and only a select few vampires were in it.

It was in this even more special circle that vampires were let in on a very big secret and the penalty of letting their tongues wag was immediate death. They would find out that Marcel was only a co-ruler of New Orleans and that the second ruler had been living right underneath their noses. This second ruler they would find out was Anastasia Romanov, the youngest Romanov daughter who had allegedly escaped death, which was in fact true. They would also find out that Anastasia was not a vampire; no one knew what she was, not even Anastasia herself. She had the strength and speed of a vampire, could walk around without wearing a daylight ring, and had the ability to compel just like any other vampire but she didn't have the thirst for blood that came with being a creature of the undead.

The Romanov girl, some would say, was the true ruler of New Orleans; her ability to put suggestions into Marcel's mind with only a few simple words and make him think that they were his ideas never failed. It was she who put the idea of running the werewolves out of New Orleans into his mind and the idea of imprisoning the wolves in their animal forms. She was cunning and silver-tongued, something that she inherited from her grandmother. Anastasia, during the years after her family's destruction, grew more cold and calculative; the young, innocent, optimistic girl she had once been was imprisoned deep within.

The Russian girl tuned into the Fight Night, listening to Marcel amp up the crowd below before calling up the first two contenders. Feeling bored and wanting to see some ass-kicking Anastasia rose from her bed and silently exited her bedroom; she stayed in the shadows behind Marcel and didn't fail to see him tense slightly at the new presence behind him. Good. She always did love seeing him squirm when she caught him unawares; a talent that she had perfected over the years, slipping in and out of shadows and out of sight without detection.

She watched the fight with a raised eyebrow highly amused when the big brute "Otto" was taken down the small petite "Felicia" as she gracefully wrapped her legs around his neck and with a good hard twist snapped the man's neck. Everyone cheered loudly, although Anastasia could hear some groans of defeat, and Felicia looked very proud of herself. "Damn girl! Not bad," Marcel grinned showcasing his pearly whites. The Romanov allowed a small smile to surface before it vanished; the crowd was still hooting and hollering when a quick figure appeared behind the unsuspecting Felicia and snapped her neck, letting her fall ungracefully to the floor.

The Abbatoir fell silent and Anastasia took half a step forward, still in the shadows and looked over the railing to see two men standing in the place of the young vampiress. Anastasia recognized the men immediately.

"Shit."

***

The Russian was fully enjoying her alone time, something that all vampires who knew of her existence recognized as her own sacred ritual. Only a fool would dare dream of interrupting the former Grand Duchess; the last person who had the balls to speak to her during her alone time was sentenced to 50 years in The Garden. She was off in an isolated bedroom in the Abbatoir with earbuds in, lit aromatherapeutic candles surrounding her, and the curtains and the door firmly shut letting no light from the outside peak through. Anastasia breathed in and let out a sigh of satisfaction before relaxing her tense muscles, sinking into the soft bed she was laying on.