A/N: Huzzah! The first chapter of the sequel to Bring Me To Life is now available for your reading pleasure! Welcome old friends! And to our new guests, I suggest reading Bring Me To Life first, ('cause hey it's a pretty darn good piece of writing) as you may find City of Delusion at tad confusing. However, after reading it over I decided it is possible to read this story without its predecessor Bring Me To Life. So enjoy, wonderful Homo sapiens with developed frontal lobes!

On another note, (Haha, Another Note, get it?) For those who have already read Bring Me To life, you may find that my writing style has changed a bit because I want to capture Anne Rice's style of the world of vampires and serve it to you on a silver platter. (I hate it that we can't write fanfiction for that woman.)

Oh, and la putain if French for: the whore

That is all.

City of Delusion

Chapter 1: Stay Away From Me

Three years after Mello had left me my nights were more or less the same. During the daytime hours when I was asleep I would dream of Mello, that tonight would be the night he would find me again. I would wake up with blood tears brimming my eyes. After that I would take my time hunting, observing my victims for some time before closing in on them. I had gotten used to the Big Drink now; I didn't mind it so much. After hunting I wander the streets of my hometown New Orleans. I had settled there a few months after Mello had left me in Moscow. I was fortunate that all my family was dead; no one would recognize me. I would waste the rest of the night pondering meaningless questions. My life lacked purpose. A safe amount of time before dawn I would return to my coffin and the process would repeat itself.

This soon all changed. Whether for better or worse I wasn't sure at the time. It was a thickly warm night in early May. The hour was small enough so that the streets still hummed with mortals. It took an annoying amount of concentration of the Mind Gift to keep all the thoughts out. I also blocked my preternatural hearing. I had no need to eavesdrop on mortals that night. What made it different from the countless past others was in quite the similar way as when I had stumbled upon the beautiful mistake that was Veronica.

She was carrying a bundle of bread in a whicker basket- baguettes and the like, freshly baked. The scent they were giving off was strong and they emanated an almost intimate heat. I was going to simply mutter an apology and be on my way, that is, until I saw who I had carelessly bumped into.

I began to apologize as was expected of me but instead gaped bluntly in disbelief. The petite frame, curly chestnut hair cascading down to the small of her back, the playful amber eyes that danced in the moonlight, the frail waist whose curve was brought out by the old fashioned bodice, the expressive lips painted a bright red, the flawless cheeks blushed slightly by a touch of rouge. It couldn't be, but it was.

She was older now, her breasts fuller and her posture less childlike. It was still her though, it was still-

"Nate," her tone was relieved and full of kindness. Hollowly I hugged herm still unsure if this was reality. We kissed once on each cheek, as old friends would do. In that moment I breathed in her scent, a mixture of peaches and something else. Could that have been the scent of sorrow?

Immediately her face jumped into animation, her expressions dancing lively across her pale face. "How glad I am to see you again! I though after that madwoman of a mother dragged you to Paris for surely you would perish, and look at you! Dressed so finely. Nate, tell me what has happened these five years we have been so cruelly apart."

"Aurore, I am glad to see you also." She knew my subdued manner. She knew I was just as happy and relieved as she was. "If you would kindly come to my flat on Napoleon Avenue I would gladly tell you tomorrow night." I needed time to think. I needed time to make up a cover story for what I had been doing… Wait. The truth would be what Aurore had wanted to for so long. She wanted to know a vampire- look. She knows me.

Curtsying in almost mock politeness Aurore smiled. "As you wish it Nate." She turned to go but I reached out and touched her bare shoulder. I could feel the blood coursing beneath her pale skin. "Aurore I am actually addressed by the name of Near."

"Near," she smiled slightly. "Like the English word."

"Yes, like the English word."

And with no further word we parted ways.

I promptly returned to my flat, as if I were expecting her to be there, which I wasn't. Aurore would stay true to her word.

Likewise my little flat on Napoleon Avenue was undisturbed. After lighting a candle I settled into an armchair. Hugging one knee close to my chest as was comfortable for me, I contemplated the sheer irony of our meeting.

She appeared to me so recently after I convinced myself I would forever wallow in solitude. I'm extremely surprised I hadn't stumbled upon her using the Mind Gift. Then again, I had been so angry that everyone I had ever made emotional ties with was gone that I easily could have subconsciously blocked her out.

It was also ironic that I had been reunited with my dearest childhood friend on a dark and dreary cloudless night. Aurore- in English her name meant Dawn. The time of day I could not live in, or else perish in the burning sun.

I wonder if she noticed the ghostly paleness of my skin. The soundless grace of my movements. The unnatural sheen of my fingernails. Was Aurore not an expert on the monster of a being I was?

I laughed to myself in the quiet darkness of my flat. It was a harsh, cold laugh. Nom as much knowledge Aurore could have gained I was only too practiced in the art of blending in with mortals. My, what I shock I would cause dear Aurore. I would look forward to tomorrow night very much indeed.

When twilight died I rose slowly from the coffin, savoring the last moments of my dream. This last one had been particularly romantic. Was it not the least Mello could do, even if was only a dream, after leaving me so cruelly?

I dressed in simple white wool pants and a long sleeved white cotton shirt, which was slightly billowy. Over it a white waist length coat with the palest gold stitching. Simple but elegant, the way Aurore would remember the way I dressed. Not to mention that, I admit, in my anger I had burnt all the lavish and extravagant clothes Mello had purchased me.

You need not remind me dear reader, I am well aware that anger is a terrible weakness. Emotion in itself is a weakness. In the time I had spent with Mello he had brought emotion out of me so easily. All my previous life I had taught myself that survival did not allow emotion. I marvel that Mello was able to break that line of thinking so easily. And it seemed so hard to reconstruct it.

I left my flat soon after changing. I stood on the corner of the dimly lit Napoleon Avenue, the corner I knew she would come on if she still lived in her father's estate.

As she rounded the corner the first thing Aurore did was pout disapprovingly, at my clothes apparently, and exclaim, "Why Near, you look as if you're dressed for winter! It's May you know!" I shrugged impassively and began to lead the way to my flat. Secretly I was pleased she was already used to calling me by my new name. I though it would be a hard habit for her to break, but then using the Mind Gift, which I had opened to her, she was making a pleasing recollection. Apparently earlier this morning she had practiced using my new name in front of the mirror, plaiting and re-plaiting her hair. It comforted me that someone cared.

Aurore didn't end up keeping her hair plaited.

When we reached my flat we sat down comfortably in the parlor.

"Near," she began. "I apologize to take advantage of your generous hospitality but in my rush to get here I skipped the evening meal! Might you have food?"

"You need not have rushed, Aurore." I murmured, my fingers laced and resting just below my chin. I then looked at her. "I apologize also. I have no food."

Aurore chuckled. "Are you now rich enough to dine out for all your meals?"

"I do not eat such as you do." I stated simply.

She gave me a curious look. "And why is that?"

I sighed. "It is a long story to tell."

Aurore leaned forward slightly in her chair. "And I am eager to hear it."

I paused, considering how I was going to explain it all. "A year after my mother and I moved to Paris we were very poor."

Aurore nodded. "Understandably, with that tyrant of a woman handling your money." Oh yes, Aurore hated my mother, it was quite clear since we were young children.

"My mother came down with the consumption."

Aurore snorted at that.

"And in disgust at her plight she… disowned me."

Aurore gasped. "I knew she was a bitch but honestly, disowning you?! It's an outrage!" That was the passionate Aurore I knew. When she felt strongly about something she forgot all manners.

"She thought she might save money if she was rid of me…" I said timidly.

Aurore disregarded that comment. "La putain!" She spat. "She dared call herself a Christian woman."

I shrugged. "Chlöe," That was my mother's name. "Most likely died soon after she left me penniless."

"Good riddance!" Aurore was clearly exasperated with my mother's mad antics. "And what happened to you, dear Near? You are more then healthy now! How did you escape the terrible and unfair fate your mother set for you?"

In a last vain hope of distracting her I abruptly changed the topic of conversation. "Have you recently been engaged, Aurore? I see that ring around your neck." Indeed there was a small gold ring with a tiny diamond set in it on a thin silver chain around her swan neck.

"Oh, this thing," She clutched it momentarily. "Yes I was in an arranged marriage to an upstanding merchant; it was decreed so in my father's will."

"Monsieur de Laurent is deceased?" I was saddened. As Aurore is a sister to me, her father was a dear uncle.

"Coincidently my fiancé died soon after. Poor thing simply dropped dead one day at work." She smiled slightly in her melancholy. "Funny, isn't it?"

"Mon Dieu, no Aurore. You must be devastated."

"More so for my father." Aurore hastily did the Sign of the Cross. I knew she did it for her father; Aurore was never a Christian girl. "But stop dodging the subject." She said sharply, pointing at me accusingly. "How did you save yourself?"

I shook my head sadly. "No Aurore, I didn't save myself. Somebody saved me." I grew almost uncomfortable in my chair. More so I was uncomfortable beginning my story.

"And who saved you?" Aurore's voice was eager and excited.

I drew in a hesitant breath. Then in a hurried tumble of words and frantic gestures the story I have told you came flowing out of my mouth. Of course, the narrative I gave Aurore was a tad bit more intimate then yours. I apologize if I offended you in that, but I trust Aurore.

When I was finished I was breathless and Aurore was smiling and glossy-eyed. I'm surprised she even followed me, I was talking so fast. Aurore was quick-witted though and so attentive to things she wanted to hear.

"Near… That's amazing!"

I looked at her pointedly. Did she not realize the terrible pain I had endured?

Aurore understood the look I had given her. "Sorry, I know you were raped and nearly killed." She flinched. I took merciless pleasure that Aurore shared my pain.

"But Near you are so lucky for your Maker to have found you and chosen you for the Dark Blood. It's a great honor!"

By the way, during my tale I could not bare to say Mello's name aloud. I had referred to him as Maker, or in weaker moments, even Master. Because even though Mello was gone he had extreme power over my life. He was my Life because without him I would have died in the streets as Chlöe my mother had wished. Mello was my Living Lord. He alone could decide whether I lived or died.

"Near…" A curious expression came over Aurore's face. "Your Make sounds most beautiful and generous, even if he left you so cruelly."

I nodded in consent. That was a splendidly accurate synopsis of Mello. Enchantingly beautiful, kind and generous to all, yet a cunning demon inside.

"But, surely you must know his name."

My gaze lifted from the wood flooring to meet Aurore's deviously innocent eyes. They were hungry for an answer.

"And?" Aurore's manner was too impatient for my liking. I had to take my time with this. She was irritating me.

I quickly hid my irritation with her. Emotion was weakness. I had to re-teach myself that.

"His name is Mello."

I thought I would choke and die on all the love I had put forward in that one sentence.

Pacing the Garden District madly was a restless, thirsting, frustrated, and lost Mello. He walked the streets again and again, she red wolf's fur-lined cloak billowing around him. Mello had never been to New Orleans before, he only knew of it.

Mello's patience was running thin. He was so close to finding his lost love. Mello could practically smell my scent on the lampposts. Mello was so close to putting together the pattern of Evil Doers I had slain. Mello was so close to finding me, but a simple thing as the layout of a city obstructed him.

Mello was infuriated.

Mello wanted me so much. He missed my love. He wanted to tell me the truth about why he left. He wanted to smell me, to run kisses down my neck and my chest. He wanted to play games with me in bed. He also wanted to heal me, to apologize. Oh how he ached to run his hand through my snowy tresses.

That was why Mello was mad. Because after spending two tedious years tracking me he had finally narrowed it down to the city I was in- but he was lost within that city.

Oh how the gods, if they even existed, tortured Mello. All Mello wanted to do was love me- was that so terrible?

Mello was thinking all this, gazing sadly out into the Gulf of Mexico. Suddenly his heart to on an icy fixture, and Mello rigidly turned to face inland.

A man only two inches taller then himself stood before Mello. Meticulously groomed locks of brunette-auburn hair artfully angled his white face. Slanted somber brown eyes. Sharp expensive clothing. Mouth set in a grim line.

"Mello." His tone serious, curt even to a point of rudeness.

"Light Yagami."

"It is your time to die, Mello. For the sins you have committed against the True of our kind. You are unworthy, unneeded. Prepare for True Death."

Mello smirked ever so casually and brushed a few locks of hair from his face. "And to think Light, for a few decades you were a good companion to me. Here you are now, a merciless killer ready and willing to murder a good friend."

"Mon ami." Light's Japanese accent was ever evident, though he could easily conceal it. "Isn't that what we all are, Mello? Simply killers?"

A/N Again: Now that I think about it, that chapter was intense! So review, and tell me what you think of the start of my precious sequel!