Suburban Vampire: Reckoning

Chapter 8

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

The old bluesman sat strumming his guitar, as he always did, in the dark alley that had no name or numerical designation, right off Bourbon Street. He was always able to sense whenever someone was around, despite being completely blind – or perhaps, because he was blind, his other senses had developed beyond what most people would consider normal. For instance, he could always sense the presence of vampires. He had frequent dealings with the undead, and did not fear the creatures of the night. The worse they could do was kill him, and he had no fear of death. Death was to him a kindly being, providing a much needed rest, and an escape from this world of misery and strife. Nor did he fear hell, for he had lived through hell on this plane of existence. And so when Jack approached, he knew it, and did not dread it. But then, he didn't know Jack.

"They's inside," He said, "Just go right in." Jack reached for the unmarked red door. "Why, goodness gracious, is that Madame Cantu 'long with you? Why, it's been a coon's age since I last seen you, girl! How you been?"

"I'd say it's been a coon's age since you've seen anything," Rose Cantu replied. "I've been well. And you?"

"They don't want me in heaven, and they's afraid I'll take over in hell, so, here I be, singin' my life away. What you doin' hanging out with these here vampires?"

"I take you two know each other," Jack said.

"Oh, I know Stanley here real well," Rose responded, "Best bluesman since Son House."

"Well, Rose," Stanley said, "You could know me better, that is to say, in the biblical sense. I may be old, but I still gots it!"

"Why, Stanley, you are a filthy old man. I like that!"

"I thank you kindly, Madame Cantu. But ya'll best get yourselves inside. They's waitin' on you."

Jack opened the door, allowing Madame Cantu to enter first. Before Jack could step inside, the old man grabbed his leg, stopping him.

"Just a little somethin', for the song."

"But you weren't singing anything!"

"I wasn't singing nothin' 'cause you weren't payin'!"

Jack huffed, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some change. He tossed a few coins at the old man. "Don't drink this all at the same place."

"I thank you kindly," the bluesman said, before tearing into an emotional version of The Sky is Crying. Jack then entered, allowing the red door to close itself after him. Jack led Madame Cantu into the second door, down the hall, and into the large, blood-red room. There, across the long table, in a large, wing-back chair, sat LeBeau, Father of the House of New Orleans, who rose from his seat upon the witch's entry.

"Why, Madame Cantu," LeBeau said, "Mon cher, it is so good to see you! Welcome to the House of New Orleans. Please, have a seat!"

"Merci Beaucoup, mon ami," She responded. LeBeau once again took his seat, as Jack drew up another of the chairs that surrounded the table.

"Do forgive me, where are my manners? Could I get you a little something? How about a mint julep, or a sazerac?" LeBeau then motioned to one of the porters standing at attention near the doorway. "Kenneth, please get our guests some refreshments, a drink for Ms. Cantu and some B Negative for our friend Jack. Is B Negative fine, Jack?"

"Absolutely," Jack said. The porters left the room to retrieve the various beverages, leaving Jack, Rose Cantu, and LeBeau. LeBeau leaned back in the wing chair and folded his hands.