The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

I.



It was 2006 in a rather large home in New Orleans in the Garden District when our story begins...





Memories of the individuals who's lives had come and gone resonate thru the walls of the house...Ghosts are not settled and tempers still flair....



In the back yard you can see a small child's outline playing underneath the Large oak.... a swing gently moves but there is no wind...

There is not a day that goes by that some tourist doesn't stop in to gaze at the home of the Famous Anastasie Fountenine the late jazz singer of the 1920's. She lived there among the ghosts until her death in 1980. She was buried in St. Louis Cemetary#1. But her Ghost can still be heard walking thru the yards of her childhood home.

There is not much activity in the house during the day just mainly old Cecilia walking thru the halls wringing her hands in anguish. But come twilight the house comes alive with activity. There is something about New Orleans at this time of night that brings out the ambiance of the Undead.





II.



Her name was Morgannia and she lived at 124 Bienville Street, smack dab in the middle of the infamous Storyville in New Orleans. There was nothing extraordinary about her—she was just a girl, with a plain name, working for three dollars a john in Miss Emma's brothel. Her major claim to fame was her status as an Octoroon. She was one-eighth Indian, and the exoticness of this touch of color made her a valuable, marketable commodity. Her other claim to fame was her youth and innocence, but as in all places of sin and debauchery, that bloom faded fast, and she soon became just another pretty face in the crowd, waiting to service the next john holding money in his clammy palm in nervous anticipation.



Morgannia came to work for Miss Emma in 1898, at the age of fourteen. She was all blushes and roses—fair and fresh-skinned. She had been orphaned at the age of ten and bounced around from aunt to aunt until she had been turned out onto the streets with a couple of old hand-me-down dresses, a battered carpet bag, and a hat that had seen much better days, and told she was old enough to find a job and fend for herself. She was looking for dishwashing jobs when Miss Emma spotted her and whisked her away like a protective mother hen. No one had ever whisked Morgannia anywhere, before. No one had ever expressed any interest in her at all. She had always been the extra baggage that someone had to assume for a prearranged allotment of time until the next unwilling family member had to take their turn at putting a roof over their dead sisters’ child’s head.



Miss Emma had bathed her, washed her hair, and given her pretty new clothes. Affection and beautiful baubles were enough to sway a love-starved half-child into loyalty. Morgannia had no inkling of what Miss Emma had in mind.



Miss Emma began advertising her newest acquisition about fifteen minutes after she had hustled I into her bordello and off the mean streets of New Orleans. She built up trust in the frightened girl, made her see her as a mother figure. Then she sold Morgannia's virginity to the highest bidder before the end of the week. With a crash course on sex and hygiene, Morgannia was initiated into the lucrative world of prostitution by a fifty-year-old, obese, and stern banker named Taft.

That had been three years ago. Morgannia turned tricks like an old pro now, using her hint of color to lure in the men wanting a taste of the exotic—and they came from all over the country. Her room was modest but clean, with a few luxuries. Morgannia had a china chamber pot, a bed, a vanity with a velvet-cushioned stool, and an armoire. She worked with five other girls, all of who kept their rooms untidy and disarrayed. Miss Emma had to barge in and bark orders almost daily to keep her place in working condition. But she only had smiles for Morgannia. Morgannia had learned how the job was done. She had learned what men wanted, what men expected. She had discovered it was an image they wanted, a dream. She became that beautiful, virginal girl for them; that temptress who seduced yet knew nothing about seduction. She was everything they wanted, tied up in a pretty little package. She only wore beautiful white dresses and pretty bows in her hair, giving her the schoolgirl look that so many men coveted. She feigned shyness and batted her lashes, developing the skills necessary to keep her johns coming back time after time.

Then she met Matthieu. He was an artist, a painter. He frequented the bordellos seeking girls who would pose nude while he paid by the hour to paint and re-paint them. The madams didn't mind. It was easy work for their girls: pose and be painted.



He reached for the bottle—empty. An empty bottle, with no other in sight; Matthieu felt his pain rise up and threaten to swallow him whole. He could not deny his thirst for the drink. He gazed at Morgannia's creamy neck pulsing before him; he heard the red blood as sweet as wine coursing through her veins.



He abruptly sank his teeth into her butter-soft flesh, draining the absinthe-laden blood, gush-by-gush, drop-by-drop.



Ah. He had lost control. Another love betrayed by the cursed drink! It was in his blood. For two hundred years he had been a slave to its potency. It drove him; it controlled him—even beyond the grave. Long ago he had turned to his undead lover to escape the grip of the absinthe. He had willingly let her bite him, turn him, thinking he would escape his state of drunkenness ... but his sense of feeling dead inside without the warmth of the drink coursing through his body carried his passion for the green stuff from his mortal life to his new unlife. There was no escape from his thirst for absinthe ... or his thirst for blood.

He was giddy on Morgannia's blood, but, like the ones before her, he wouldn't let her die. She wanted to live in his fine marble palace, to escape her life—and now she would. He slashed his wrist and let the blood pour into her gaping mouth. She choked, gasped, swallowed in a foggy haze, and continued to sleep.





In the morning Morgannia was still far too drunk to work. Miss Emma left her in her room, curtains shut, and portraits strewn around the room. Slowly, Morgannia regained consciousness. She opened her heavy lids and surveyed the room with fresh eyes. Her skin was cold and smeared with blood. The room around her pulsated. She covered her ears with her hands to block out the noise.





III.



It was her. I knew it was her. I sensed no other for yards. Removing my hands from my pockets I strode quickly to the door - opened it to her.



The very sight of her standing there on the same spot I had predicted several times sent a small shiver through me, which I tried to hide unsuccessfully. She was attired in her customary black and red, though she looked modern. Long flowing curls of reddish-blonde hair ran in waves down her back to her waist. In all my years I never saw hair that ever matched hers, no matter where I went. As I looked at her I realized how much I had missed her. How much passion I had stored up inside of me...saved in a small box reserved for her. I swallowed, unable to believe she was really there.



My mind ran through possibilities of greeting her. Running into her arms? Too affectionate...She wouldn't enjoy that half as much as I would. A handshake? Laughable. A simple 'Hello'? None of these would do, and so I stepped back, ushering her through the door with a small, "You came..."





She came into my rooms and sat with her arms folded on her lap a slight grin on her beautiful face. I gestured toward the wine that the servant girl had brought..."Althea welcome back to New Orleans...." "We have been expecting you.."



"The guests should be arriving shortly so please make sure that you are ready and dressed for dinner tonight in the front parlor..."







IV



I smiled and nodded as Morgannia handed me the glass of red wine. I brought it slowly to my lips are I gazed into Morgannia’s face. The taste brought back so many memories that I sometimes wished I had forgotten. Bitter sweet was the flavor that touched my pallet. “Something troubles you?” my words seemed to have brought forth the tension I could sense as I followed her from room to room. She spoke as if words could not come forth from her lips. Then she managed to speak, “No, actually I am just fine. Having you here is a delight for me. It is something I have been wanting for so very long.” “I know.” I grinned as I finished my glass of wine and stood from my chair of crimson velvet. I had a sense of satisfaction with my reply to which brought a sort of fear, but yet, inquisitive look on her face and into her eyes…



V



I sat as she drank her wine and wondered what on the Gods' earth that could make her say that she knew what I was thinking...As I sat with my back to the massive fireplace radiating in the warmth of it I thought of times long ago....





I remembered the first time I had laid eyes on the gothic beauty...was over a century ago...Shortly after I had met Matthieu; the man only Man that I would be faithful to the rest of the days I walked this savage garden called Earth....

It was a warm summer day and I had only caught my breath as i drew closer to the Vieux Carré the buildings crowding each other and the narrow streets. Cast-iron and wrought iron balconies overhang the sidewalks, providing shelter from hot summer sun or sudden downpours.



Cool, inviting courtyards can be glimpsed down narrow alleys or carriageways, and the smells of shrimp remoulades and seafood gumbos waft from hidden kitchens. I caught my breath as I drew closer and closer to this volatile beauty, when she stopped at the fruit stands beneath the arcade. I put my left hand up against the slender iron post in front of me and pressed my hand against my lips and gazed at her with wide blue eyes. I didn't not realize that I seemed to be wanting to hide and it covered all of face except for my eyes. There was a pain in my eyes but the kind that reveals itself in a flicker of pain with the flinching of ones inner thoughts.

She was slow if not languid as she walked; her stiff market basket was riding gently on her arm and her shawl a blaze of peacocks and silver against her red silk dress. Her fine mass of hair hung in hopeless tangles from the grip of a hematite comb. Diamonds sparkled on each and every finger, with which she gathered her long gown and stepped upon the curb. She stopped and turned her head to the side and said my name.... I was aghast.... but it was just the name of a painting that Matthieu had for sale. She asked my beau who this beauty was and of course Matthieu had to turn and point to me who was staring as though I had seen god. She smiled in my direction and I was shaken to my core.



"Morgannia" she breathed shaking me from my memories..."Yes?" I whispered. "When shall this great ball get underway?" “I must go and freshen up and make myself presentable" she breathed.



"It will start once the Witching Hour commences,” I replied as I regained what little composure I had left.



VI



I nodded and quickly rushed to my room to freshen up. The room was so beautiful, Morgannia knew just how to work out the décor for me. I smiled and sat down on the bed looking into the fireplace remembering…Where I had come from and how far I have come and what I have over come to be who I am.







VII



Althea Marisole; borne into a poor family in the year 1875. Her mother was the mistress of Monsieur Rousseau. He was a pirate of the Haitian Islands, whom took my mother into his bed for many nights until the affair was discovered by his wife then soon after he was hung as a warlock.

My mother gave birth to me just before he was hung. She told me she took me to him and he smiled and kissed me on my forehead. He told her to never let his wife know of me or I would surely have the same fate as him.

I was raised in the Irish Channel though I was not fully Irish, it did not matter, no one knew of my origin.

As I grew into a young woman of 15 my mother could no longer fight with her illness... her disease of the mind. She passed in her sleep as I sat at her bedside.

Soon after I realized I had nothing to support myself, nowhere to go. I had to find a means of support.

I soon set out in search of a job. My searches had led me to the Vieux Carré, the French quarter. I strolled around until I came upon a plump man standing in front of a bank looking at his pocket watch. I slowly walked up to him and tapped him on the arm and asked for a few coins, if he had some to spare. He bared an evil grin and instead escorted me into his office into the bank. He said his name was Taft. We spoke of a job and of a place to stay. He insisted that I stay with him until I could find something suitable for a lady such as myself. I was grateful for a time, until the moment he barged into my room down the hall from his, in a drunken rage.. He stole my innocence that night, left me in my torn nightgown in tears, blood on the sheets…

The next morning, Taft sent me to live with his Sister Emma. He told me that I would be better off there.

I soon was introduced into the ways of the LeBlanc house. I was to satisfy the needs of both men and women alike. For my services I was paid with gifts and monies.

I soon realized that my sexuality and I favored women. They had a softer touch and were more gentle and their skin was so much softer then a man.

There was one man whom caught my eye each time he visited the house.

He was of pale complexion, with his deep blue eyes, he seemed to see right into your soul. His hands were callused ridden but yet gentle. His smile was a childlike smile of maliciousness. He was tall in stature and his long black hair was most times pulled back.

He was Xavier Tibbadaoux . He was Mattieu ‘s older brother, which I had no knowledge of until later on.

One night he had sent for me and another woman, when she had refused I went alone. Though we had spoken many times at the LeBlanc house, he had never shown interest. My heart skipped as the carriage passed by the black iron fence which enclosed his Manor on First Street. I had not known what he would be like behind closed doors alone. I wondered if he would be a reserved gentleman as he had sat before me, or like Taft. As I was escorted up to the huge Manor, the white oleander hugged the fence lines and oak tree leaves bustled with the slight breeze of the evening air. I slowly walked up the slated path with heart pounding as I reached the door step of this huge manor with white columns standing tall all around the house. Windows were softly lit with lighting some still darkened. My heart was pounding as I reached for the large handle of the ornate door knocker. The door slowly opened and a small woman of colour stood aside and motioned for me to come in.

In her Creole accent she told me to follow her as she took my shawl and looked me over. I guess my dark purple velvet and black lace dress was suitable enough, for she had an approving smile. She had me follow her to the front parlor. She told me to wait there for Monsieur Xavier.

Moments later he let his presence known to me with a glass of red wine and a charming smile.

“Bon Jour Madame”

I smiled and slowly received the glass from his cold hands as his fingers slightly caressed mine. I nodded demurely. He then sat next to me.

“Mon Cherie, why are you so nervous? You have done this before.” He placed his hand on mine.

My heart skipped; maybe he was the gentleman that I had spoken with many times before. He then took the glass from my hand and placed it onto the guilded table and then leaned in and kissed my lips passionately. It was as if he had taken my breath at that moment. I had wondered of him many times, even while with other men but it had not compared to that moment…..







VIII

“LePetite Bebe, shall I run your bath?” Cecilia called to me and broke my thoughts.

I turned to Cecile whom had brought me back to reality, “Oh yes... Please…Oh and Cecilia would you please lay out my gown while I bathe?”

“Yes Madame, I shall see to it.” Cecilia walked into the bathroom.

“Good Lord, I will never get used to these damn faucets.” Cecilia called out as she began to run the water.



IX



My reminiscence of Xavier and my past was quickly interrupted by the knocking of the door and Cecilia’s voice.

“Madame, it is almost time for the party. Your things are all laid out. Are you ok?”

“Yes Cecilia, thank you. I will be out in a few moments.” The beat of my heart was slowed as my memories faded and I stepped out of the bathtub and wrapped the robe around me. I quickly went into my bed chamber and looked at the gown laid out.

“So much like the one I wore so many years ago.” I picked up the gown hugged it to my body. The dark purple velvet felt as if it was melting against my skin and the black lace was were hands. The lace was surrounding the bottom and cuffed the sleeves. The neck was slightly agape and the back was shaped to a V.

I turned to look in the looking glass and then sat down to brush my hair. As I picked up the silver brush and ran it through, I thought of Xavier brushing my hair that evening, He was so gentle and yet so fierce. I shook off the thought and began to apply my make up.

I still sensed something with Morgannia but she hid it well. So many times I have been able to see her thoughts, but she now has been able to block my attempts when needed. I know she was surprised and yet happy to see me return, but I still feel as if something is troubling her. Sometimes I curse this gift that was bestowed upon me...

I have seen my lovers dieing before me, so many of them. I try not to allow myself the indulgence too many times.. I don’t want to see them grow old before me. I cannot bare it. I love beautiful things and people, so yet, I also love my gift and yet I do not. So many years since I was given this gift, so many places I have been. And now here I am, back to the place where I was born.

I quickly slip on my heels which peek out beneath my ankle length gown. I take one last look into the looking glass, or mirror as you say, and I am ready.

I soon open the door to hear the yelling of Morgannia. I quickly move to the parlor and see her slamming down the phone and it breaking in half.

“Who was that?”

Morgannia quickly turned to me, She blushes and in almost a laugh , “Oh just another idiot trying to sell me something and would not shut up.”

I tried to look into her mind but once again she has blocked me with a smile, “You know I have had many years to learn this Althea. Why do you even bother trying?”

“Because I can Morgannia, what fun would it be if I don’t?” I laughed.

“You look great. That gown is perfect. You and your purples.” She laughs as she hands me a glass of red wine. I smile and nod and accept the glass.

“What would do without my velvet and my lace, you know I love purple in this shade. It is the only shade that I find that flatters me.” I smiled and winked.

“Well I guess I should be getting ready so I will return momentarily.” Morgannia finished her glass and set out to her room.

“When will I find out this secret you are keeping from me Morgannia?” I called out to her. She laughed and said.. “Soon enough Althea, patience is a virtue.”

I mumbled, “Patience is not my best forte.” I sat down with my glass of wine.





X



I stood there waiting for Morgannia to answer my questions. I could feel the anger and frustration rushing through me. Morgannia was at a loss for words as she sat there on the bed staring at me.

“Well are you going to answer me or do I have to go and find out for myself?”

Morgannias eyes got wide, “No don’t go there. It’s nothing for you to concern yourself about Althea.”

“Bullshit Morgannia, I could read him! Why does he mean you harm? What happened? And don’t try to lie to me. Is this the secret you have been keeping from me?”

“Umm Yes I didn’t want you to worry yourself over this. I can handle this…Please not tonight Althea, Let’s just have fun and I will explain everything at a later time. Please?” Morgannia stood up and took my hands and kissed my cheek.

My anger was subsiding slowly; I didn’t want this to ruin her evening… Who was I to do that after being apart from her for so long?

As Morgannia walked out of the room I could sense she was keeping something from me. I tried once again to read her but to no avail. She turned and smiled her playful smile as if it was a game to her. I smirked..

“ You are such a brat Morgannia.”

“Yes I am and You me love for it.” She laughed and made her way down the stairs. I flowed behind and suddenly felt a presence, something familiar in this house… Then I heard voices, men, they were in the servant entrance.. Then Marie suddenly rushed into the room to meet Morgannia at the bottom of the stairs. She then gasped as she saw me,

“Holy shit! Althea Is it really you?” She rushed up to me and embraced me with a kiss on the cheek. I held her in my arms and also kissed her cheek.

“My gods how you have grown into such a beautiful young lady.” I held her hands and stepped back to take a look at her. She was indeed beautiful.

“Yeah I have grown, it has been so long Althea why were you away for so such a long time?”

I looked over at Morgannia who had a look of horror on her face as eh stared towards the Kitchen. She slowly made her way there as Marie kept me occupied, I couldn’t just walk away from her.

“Well… why were you away?” Marie said once again.

“Well, come lets sit and talk I will explain what I can for now.” I smiled and led her to the front parlor.

We sat I poured a glass of wine for myself and champagne for Marie. I sat down and like a small child that I once remember her to be, she was full of anticipation and wonder awaiting my explanation.

”Well My dear, I have been traveling, I have to so many wonderful places. It was just something I felt I needed to do.”

“Why did you feel the need to be gone for so very long?”

Once again a question I felt I could not answer completely but stammered through,

“Well, I just got tired of being here, I felt like I was a bird in a cage who had no more songs to sing for I had nothing left to give here. I just needed to be free for a while. I know it was a long time, but look I am here now. Lets go and join the others shall we?” I smiled and stood up and Marie took my arm, we walked drinking our glasses and giggling about small things she has now discovered as a woman. I loved hearing her talk, she made me smile.

I then heard Morgannia talking to Matthieu, as we walked into the atrium, I looked up from Marie.. I dropped my glass onto the floor. MY heart raced, I felt anger and lust and I could barely contain it. I looked to Morgannia and it was as if she was a statue…

”Hello Althea. It is nice to see you again.” Xavier stepped closer with a smile and took my hand to kiss it, I pulled it away.

“Marie sweetheart, why don’t you see to the arriving guests that are in the Dining I will be along shortly.”

“Ok but I want you to sit next to me and tell us about your travels Althea.” I smiled and cupped her face and kissed her cheek. “That is fine with me no go it is rude to leave them waiting.” Marie rushed off.

I then shot a look at Morgannia and Matthieu, the shit eating grin on Matthieus face really did not help.. Morgannia had a look of horror as I then gritted my teeth and slapped Xavier across the face and walked off to the dining room.



XI



As the guests start to arive for the party they take no notice of the old black man and the young white girl sitting on the airy front pourch. The pourch is surrounded by the smell of the gardineas that surround the house. The old man's face is withered and he looks very tired. He is whispering to the young girl. "Chere this is your story. The history of the house that you are standing in." Lisa, the young girl, looks at the old man rapt with attention. "Is it a very scary story Oncle Danny?" "Well now dear, I was there, I lived and died it, but I'm no longer scared of that woman. She can't hurt us none any more." "If you recall she was a rather stately woman not like the miserable hag you see running around here now like a chid who's been left out in the heat too long."



Danny took a deep breath and begins his story.



'Mme. Marie Delphine Lalaurie and her third husband, a doctor, Leonard Louis Lalaurie, purchased the grand home at 1140 Royal Street in the early 1830s. Upon moving in, she began to outfit the home with the finest of appointments -- costly furniture, silver and gold plates and paintings by noted artists. She would entertain and dispense hospitality from the downstairs drawing room. Oh the parties she thru and all the whores from Storyville would come and "entertain" the "gents" from the District.'





'She was born Marie Delphine, daughter of Louis Barthelemy Chevalier de Maccarthy. She was first married on June 11, 1800 to Don Ramon de Lopez y Angulo. When he died on March 26, 1804 in Havana, Cuba, she married Jean Blanque in 1808, who died in 1816. From there she married Dr. Lalaurie on June 12, 1825.'



'The circumstances of the deaths of her first two husbands are unknown and the whereabouts of Dr. Lalaurie at the time of the fire and subsequent to his wife's flight from town remains a mystery. But we know he was one of her first victims left up in that attic.'



'Mme. Lalaurie was well-known for her spectacular parties and galas which she gave frequently at her home. She was one of the most well-known women in New Orleans society of the time. Renowned Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau lived in New Orleans at the same time, just a few blocks from the Lalaurie House. Although the nature of their relationship is unknown, undoubtedly these two women met and knew each other. But that's another story hun' "But Oncle I remember her...She had such a nice voice when they would sing in the back yard with all the children." "Hush now and let me get back to my story!" Lisa looked up and him and was immediatly ashamed.



'It was said that Mme. Lalaurie's manners were sweet, gracious and captivating. She was born in the society's upper circles. She was accustomed to and acculturated to the good life. Yet there were persistent rumors that she treated her servants with disdain and in a cruel, abusive manner.' Lisa sighed and shuddered at the thought of what the Ma'am had done to her.



'And still, those who visited her said that she was kind to her servants. If one of them tremble in her presence or startled at the sound of her voice, she would soothe and endeavor to reassure her. Nevertheless, the stories of barbarity increased. The smothered indignation on Royal Street grew.'



'One day the street was filled with the wild rumor that Mme. Lalaurie was seen by the neighbors cowhiding a little girl in the courtyard.' "That was you my dear. See I told you you were a part of this story. If there had been no Lisa no one might have found out about the things that were going on here." Lisa nodded and looked over her shoulder. She could feel the gaze of someone. She just hoped that this time she would be able to listen to the whole story. 'The terrified young thing fled across the yard, into the house and up the winding stairway from gallery to gallery followed by her infuriated mistress. She rushed out onto the belvedere and darted up to roof, with Mme Lalaurie hot on her heels.'



'In another instant the child reached the edge of the roof -- falling with a dull thud to the

courtyard below. She was lifted up and borne into the house a silent, crushed, lifeless mass of humanity. In the old yard there was a shallow well that is now a mere pit and neighbors assert that the night the young girl fell to her death, she was buried by torchlight in the well. She jumped to her death rather than face that wrath. An investigation insued and Delphine was fined and her slaves were confiscated and sold at auction for mistreatment....but Delphine badgered one of her realitives into buying back the slaves at auction and soon they were returned to Delphine.'



The legend goes that on April 11, 1834, a slave goaded by the cruelties heaped upon her, set fire to Mme. Lalaurie's kitchen. Some say the old woman had a dream the night before that she was fleeing the house in flames. Rumors have it that Delphine kept her cook chained to the fireplace in the kitchen...and many of Delphines slaves dissappeared without explanation. House slaves came and went...and so did stable boys.'



'As the flames grew larger and hotter, word of the fire spread through the streets and soon the house was thronged with people over to assist Mme. Lalaurie in saving her valuables. There were among the crowd citizens of high standing, many of whom bore eyewitness to the scenes that followed. The fire was gaining rapidly, the kitchen was in flames and the upper stories were filled with smoke. Mme. Lalaurie seemed only interested in retrieving her plates, jewels and robes before they were burnt to a crisp.'



'The questions about the whereabouts of the servants began to filter through the crowd of

assistants. "Where are all Mme. Lalaurie's servants that they do not help in the efforts to save?" Mme. Lalaurie met the questions with evasive answers. "Nevermind the servants, save my valuables. This way gentlemen, this way."'



'Someone began whispering that the servants were chained and locked up behind barred doors in the slave quarter and were sure to perish in the flames. The whisper became a loud voice -- vengeful and threatening. "The servants! The servants?" rose from a hundred different voices. "There are human beings locked in those rooms who will be roasted alive in the flames."'





'"The keys! The keys!" said a Creole gentleman; two or three men rushed forward clamoring for the keys, but they could not be found. "Who will follow me through the smoke and flames?" cried a brave Creole. A dozen or more men volunteered. The iron bars between the wing and attic were broken away, the doors were burst open and two old women with heavy iron collars upon their necks and irons upon their feet were brought out. By this time the fire was subdued. Some were chained to the walls, some were strapped to makeshift operating tables, and others were confined in cages made for

animals. They had undergone various elaborate forms of torture and mutilation. One man looked as though he had been victim of some bizarre makeshift sex change. Some had their eyes poked out...some had metal spikes through their heads There was another whose bones were broken and re-set in odd diections. The gruesome discovery was to horrible to imagine. Another was trapped inside a small cage, where her arms and legs had been badly broken and then reset at odd angles, making her appear as some sort of "human crab." Another woman had her arms and legs removed and patches of her flesh had been sliced off in a circular motion to make her appear as a giant caterpillar. Some had their mouths sewn shut and had then starved to death. Others had their hands sewn to different parts of their bodies. One woman had her entrails pulled out of her stomach at was secured to the floor by her own intestines. Most of the victims were found dead. The ones who were still alive died shortly after.'





'The crowd continued to search the house. The garret was explored and more victims were brought out - gaunt and wild-eyed, loaded down with chains and crippled from the attitudes in which they had been chained to the floor. '



'The local press of the time said the story was like "covering one of those atrocities the details of which seem to be too incredible for human belief." They hesitated to report the atrocities at the house because of their graphic nature, but found it necessary to hold Mme. Lalaurie accountable and up for public ridicule, calling her a wretch.'



'A silence fell upon the neighborhood -- an ominous silence that proceeds the outburst of the smoldering wrath of an outraged public. In the morning an idle crowd began to form in front of the Lalaurie mansion. The numbers increased towards midday and by evening the throng was so dense that standing room was almost impossible upon the pavement of the street in front.'



'They hissed and hooted and some cried out for the owner's scalp. Mme. Lalaurie did not mistake the meaning and conceived and executed a plan to flee for her life. At the time of her daily ride in her carriage it drove up before the door and Mme. Lalaurie, dressed in her usual elegant style, stepped out on the sidewalk and entered the vehicle.'



'In a split-second the horses took off at full speed away from her house -- the last time she would be there, alive. Mme. Lalaurie was taking her last drive in the fashionable quarter and it was a drive for her very life. It took but an instant for the crowd to recover from her quick thinking and in another moment they were at her back, yelling, hooting and screaming: "Stop that carriage!" "She is running away!" "Drag her out." "Shoot her." "Shoot the horses!"'



'But the mob's efforts were in vain. The coachman drove furiously at break neck speed. The horses had borne their mistress before and would not fail her now. Fashionable New Orleans stopped its carriages and watched in blank amazement the flying vehicle and the uproarious, uncontrollable mob. No human speed could keep up with those horses; the crowd breathless and panting, was left in the distance.'





Lisa looked up and saw her, She was standing behind Oncle Danny with the old axe. She put her finger to her lips as if to say SHHHH. Lisa started to scream and scream.......



XII.



I felt him following me as I walked out of the dining room and out to the back patio. I thought I had finally been alone. As I turned around my eyes met Xavier’s as he bore that Cheshire cat grin. My hands balling up as he stepped closer to me.

“Why don’t you go and amuse yourself with the people inside and leave me be Xavier Tibbadaoux? Why must you come out here and disturb my peaceful moment.” I glared at him. He stopped in front of me still smiling and offered me a glass of red wine.

“Awww come on now Althea, take it. Do you not trust me at all? You once thought of me as a gentleman.” He said as I smelled the glass.

“Yes, once I did. That was before you did this to me.” I hissed.

“Ahh but you enjoy eternal beauty do you not I know I do. You look as beautiful as the day we met Althea. Your hair so lovely and long and your eyes so green like emeralds.” He leaned in closer I tensed up.

“Mmmm and you smell so sweet my dear. Is that Sandalwood?”

“Why do you insist on doing this? It has been years for you and I. History.. That’s what it is to me, ancient history for you and I.” I turned away to see the swing under the tree moving with no real breeze, then I saw the sweet little girl from long ago. She smiled and giggled a little as Xavier stood beside me.

“Ahhh my sweet little Lisa.” He smiled and waved to her as she waved back at him and blew him a kiss.

“Hello Oncle, I have missed you.” I heard her faint voice speak in such a sweet tone.

“Sweet Lisa, I miss you all the days of my life.” He smiled tenderly as she moved closer to us and Xavier knelt down to her.

Marie gestured to me, “Is she the one for you Oncle? Will you marry her?” she asked innocently.

Xavier laughed and looked up at me, “No my dear, I don’t think she is the one.” He knelt in closer as if to tell her a secret of some sort, “I don’t think she wants to marry and besides I don’t think she is the marrying kind.”

She giggled and turned back to the swing, “I have to go Oncle, but please come see me again I do miss you so much.” She kissed his cheek and went back towards the tree, her image faded out as if she walked away into the air.

“How can you say that about me Xavier? Oh how I wish she could see the lies you tell.” I scowled and began to walk away until he grabbed my hand.

“Let me go Xavier right now.” I hissed.

“That’s just it Althea, I cannot do that. Neither of us can let each other go. You and I are a part of each other. I chose you to be like me, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Xavier, before you go on, Let me remind you of this, it was you who left me. It was you, who took off with some nasty whore and you who misused me with your cruel words and names. You casted me aside as if I didn’t matter to you anymore. I waited 3 nights for you and you never returned or even bothered with me!”

“Oh Althea, that was so long ago. The whore is dead anyways, she meant nothing. She just did something for me that you couldn’t at that particular time. I never said that I belong only to you, just that my blood is yours and yours is mine and that it flows together now.” He now had my hands in his.

“Xavier, stop, I do not wish to cry any more tears for you. I don’t wish to ruin my face with bloodstained tears. You say my heart is cold and black; well you made it that way.”

I pulled my hands away and walked back into the house.



Xavier tried to speak to her as he closed his eyes to concentrate on her thoughts, but she blocked him. He opened his eyes and watched as she walked into the group of people.

“Foolish woman.” He mumbled as he looked up at the moon.

“Is she so foolish Xavier?” a voice came from the night air. It was not a voice he was familiar with at all. He looked around and saw no one.

“Who are you and how dare you speak to me without showing yourself. Do you know what I could do to you for such stupidity?” He spoke without moving his lips with anger on is face.

“Ahh Xavier in good time you will know who I am, but for now you will only have the sound of my voice and the feel of my eyes upon you from where you will not know.”

“Foolish man, you don’t know who you are dealing with and what I am and what I can do to you.” Xavier thought, gritting his teeth.

“Oh Xavier are you angry? Is it because you do not know who I am? Or is it because I interrupted your little attempts to woo Althea back into your clutches?” Xavier could tell that there was a smile behind that comment. Slowly he was scanning for this being whom he could not see.

“Don’t worry Xavier in time you will see just who I am but for now I will not allow you to.”

“Why hide if you are so confident with me? Are you that afraid of me stranger? Is it that you know just what I can do to you? Ahh yes that is it, you know I could kill you before you blink.” Xavier smirked.

“In due time Xavier, in due time I will reveal myself to you. For now, I think you should rejoin the house and find your precious Althea.” With that Xavier felt a rush of anger run through him.

“What do you mean by that?” There was no answer just a faint laugh.

“Answer me!” Xavier yelled out this time; still with no reply. He then quickly turned to the house and stalked back into the house.



XIII.



Xavier quietly came up behind Althea and went to reach out to her when she suddenly turned around to face him. He looked into her eyes, she felt his concern and anger.

“What is it Xavier?”

“I don’t know, but something is going to happen. I can feel it.”

“We must find Morgannia. You must tell her.” Xavier nodded and she took his hand and they set out to find Morgannia.

“What is it you feel?” she asked as they walked about the house.

“I don’t know but it is not good. The voice…” he stopped.

Althea stopped in her tracks, “What voice?”

“The voice I heard talking to me after you walked back into the house, it spoke to me. He knew me. He spoke of you briefly as well.”

“Of me? Who was it? Did he show himself?” Althea was now very concerned.

“No he didn’t show himself. I wish he had so I could have ripped his throat out and spit it into his face.” Xavier’s grip on Altheas hand became firm, she pulled away.

“He made you this angry? What did he say of me?”

“It is not important. It was more the tone and demeanor of his voice that I am concerned. Something awful is going to happen, Althea and I don’t know if we can find out in time.”

They soon saw Morgannia in the garden; Althea looked to her and spoke without a word…

“Morgannia, we must talk now! It’s urgent. Get Matthieu.”

With that Althea gripped Xavier’s hand and rushed out to the garden.

“What the hell is going on now?” Morgannia said with aggravation in her voice.

“I don’t know but it’s not good. Xavier heard a voice talking to him out side.”

Morgannia looked to Xavier, she saw the look in his eyes and face, “Xavier tell me who the fuck it was. I don’t want anything to ruin this night for Marie.”

“I don’t know who he is Morgannia. If I had, he would be laying on the ground in a pool of blood for the way he spoke to me.”

Just then Matthieu walked up he had over heard Xavier’s last comment and spoke up,

“What asswipe has just pissed in your cornflakes Xavier?”

Morgannia shook her head and took a stern look at Matthieu, “What?” He asked aggravated.

“This is not a time to fucking joke something is going on and we need to find out what the fuck it is before something happens.” Morgannia was now pissed.

“Get your panties out of a twist woman and tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Xavier giggled a little and proceeded to fill Matthieu in on all that had happened and they stood there trying to figure out who the voice belonged to and what he meant.

Just then a commotion was heard from inside, Cecilia yells out to Morgannia and Althea to hurry in the house.