Blood Red Tears
Chapter one
It was a clear and sunny evening. The wind kept weezing past us, racing against our bike and giving off a comforting chill to tone down the humid Louisiana air. Everything was calm and at peace... Unless of course you were holding on for dear life to your insane friend who could not quite grasp the concept of a SPEED LIMIT.
This was not my idea of a vacation.
Okay, so technically, it's anything but, given that we're supposed to be on a 'pick up' job during the winter break to save up for our next 'expedition' and of course get on the Boss Lady's good side.
The point is, I was so blinded by my lifelong lust for money and the unexpleinable pull I've always felt towards our destination that I have foolishly agreed on this suicide escapade.
How naive of me.
I'd think that after years of working with this speeddemon maniac I'd learn, but no! Heh, I guess I really am suicidal. Now all I have to worry about is keeping my homicidal side in check because if I do strangle that psycho with a deathwish in front of me the horrific scenario of " two roadkill archeologists in training found by the mainroad of the Louisiana state" just might come true.
I just need to focus on the enchantingly gorgeous town ahead of us and try to losen my hold on Pietro's vocal cords...
I think I'm going to burts into tears.
Forget my tough girl persona. All my dreams about the mystical town of New Orleans were shattered and replaced with a tourist filled backwater drowning in the sea of cheap flashy 'voodoo' signs all around.
That or I simply chose a bloody wrong hormonedriven tour guide.
To say I was displeased would be the understatement of the century! And the matter of my supposed partner flirting with a completely clueless, 100 per cent plastic Barbie doll enlarged, instead of helping me sort through our assingment did not help one bit!
I huffed silently slightly deepening the now permanent scowl on my face and cleared the dust off another oh so fascinating shelf.
What made it so special? Why it was filled with boxes just like the other 15 shelves I went over the last hour!
Instead of checking into the hotel, cleaning up, resting until the last traces of sun were no longer visible and going out to check out the darker and far more interesting parts of New Orleans' French Quarter I was condemned to chocking on the dust bunnies of some ancient wannabe tourist attraction antique store hidden in the 'mists'of Bourbon St.
I have absolutely no idea why a sane and quite famous archeologist such as Maharet would be after some insignificant fist sized box from such a questionable place. I could bet my liver, wich is for obvious reasons very dear to me, that half of the supposed antiques in this place were actually hand made in the back of the store about a month ago!
In my uncontained fury I slipped over a stool and was rewarded with the whole shelf of boxes raining down on me. Cursing silently I begun removing them when a scarlet 'M' painted on one of the smaller black boxes cought my eye.
Bingo.
I smirked to myself and silently, well as silently as possible after wrecking the place, sneaked out of the store and onto the busy streets of New Orleans.
Well let's hope Mr. Barbie-fan Speed Demon will enjoy cleaning up my mess!
Even in my hurry I caught a pair of unique eyes staring at me intently, but when I turned there was no one there.Hell, the heat and exhaustation must be catching up on me! Who heard of red on black eyes anyway?
Finding the hotel was fairly easy, but not as easy as spotting my never more inviting king sized bed. I threw myself on it unceremously and still cluthing the mysterious box I was sent after, fell asleep.
I awoke to complete darkness surrounding me.
After so many years spent with Maharet my eyes quickly adjusted to it to realize I was still in the room with a very sore arm clutching the ebony box. A noise startled me and my head quickly snapped up to stare into the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. The pair of cirmison irises surrounded by absolute blackness shined in amusement. I was only half concious of a figure comming out of the shadows of my ceiling and slowly floating to the point of nearly touching me.
I gasped when I finally realised what was happening. Soon however all thoughts were lost as was I in the blood red eyes of the intruder. He only smirked at me and begun pulling something out of my hand.
'Oh no ya don't!'
I instantly snapped out of my trance and concentrated on holding the box with all my might. I'll be damned if I let this Harlequin wannabe thief take away my well earned pay!
He however had other plans and as if hearing my thoughts answered in a deep voice
" Well den cherè damnation f'r y' it is...".
His full lips parted revealing a pair of silvery fangs that closed over my neck in a vice like grip condemning me to pain I never knew before...
I screamed and shot up in bed covered in sweat.
Pietro, who was sitting in a chair across from me silently rose an eyebrow at my behaviour. When I finally came to my senses I noticed how worn out he looked.
" Though night with barbie?" I asked sardonically. He just snorted and strode up to me with the biggest scowl I've ever seen on my 'carefree' friend.
" How COULD you Rogue! How could you leave me to this blood thirsty, old crazy antique witch and her emotionally unstable daughter! Do you know what I've been through, cleaning the huge mess you've made? Well do you? I've spent six hous organizing those boxes and fixing the shelf! SIX HOURS! And now I see you didn't even get the box!"
I was about o comment on how sweet payback The Bitch tasted when I realised what he said. I started looking around frantically but it was nowhere in sight.
I didn't quite pay attention to Pietro rambling on at the speed of light about 'the witch' seeing me run out with something, instead I started fingering the twin wounds on the base of my neck...
The following day Pietro decided I fell victim to the hot Louisiana sun and vicious mosquitos but now, months from that day and after Maharet's disturbing rection to my story I'm still haunted by a pair of demon eyes in my sleep...
AN: TBC?... well it's up to all those who bother to review! To be honest I'm really not sure where i'm going with this story so feel free to give me ideas and comments on how much it sucks ; >it keeps me going ya know! What I am sure of is that this story will focus on Rogue but as she herself said " Ah make this stuff up as Ah go!" so bare with me. Yeah and i'm not sure if this story's worth continuing so again enlighten me!
Disclaimer : Oh how we all love those... Well ya know the drill : me no own so bugger off!
