Chapter 1

EPOV

I heard screaming. It was the most shrill, enraged female voice I'd ever heard in all of my days. And in 1924, I had had many more days granted me than I had ever planned. At the time I was 23 years old, but didn't look a day over 17. Infact I would never look a day over 17 again, no matter how long I lived. I was turned in 1918 at the onset of the Spanish flu. Carlisle, my sire, and for all intents and purposes, my father and I had relocated to the great and gloomy city of New Orleans, Louisiana.

Now it's not necessarily a perpetually gloomy city, not in spirit anyhow. It does, however, not take special note of those who are more nocturnal in nature. Of course my kind does not have need of nocturne activities exclusively, but in cities where the sun is a prominent feature, nightlife becomes quite a natural cover for us.

The screaming seemed to hang in the thick, humid, summertime air. I remember that it was several hours past sunset and I was strolling along Bourbon Street. On Bourbon I could almost imagine I was human again, because the set that paraded that area after dark made even a monster such as me appear docile.

I walked quickly toward the echoes of the bloody screams. Once in the thick shadows of the night I could move at super-human speeds. As I reached the scene of whatever was going on I was relieved to see that it was merely the long arms of the law doing their duty. A pair of local law enforcement officers was dragging a struggling and now gagged young female into the paddy wagon.

Merely curious now, rather than alarmed, I sauntered over to one of them as he was padlocking the back door of the wagon as his partner climbed into the driver seat of the cab.

"Rather loud young thing you got there." I implied. "What'd she do officer? Young lady like that couldn't really be of much harm to anyone."

"Huh, that's what you think buddy; this one's being hauled in for murder. She's a right dangerous thing, she is." The officer grunted.

"Murder, are you sure? I don't see a body, officer." I smiled. Even with other males my charm could get me answers that others would have no access to otherwise.

The officer just smiled, but in his minds' eye I saw a broken, bleeding body, gunshot wound most likely, lying on the cold cement floor of some old abandon shack.

The officer turned and got into the passenger side of the paddy wagons cab before they both drove off. Something in all of this just didn't set up right. Whether the girl did kill that dark-skinned male I still saw bleeding out or not, something more to this story was certainly bubbling underneath the surface. If the girl did do it, surely I would know once alone with her. Her mind would be as plain to me as an open book and as easy to read as a first grade reader. I followed at a distance. No local jail for this one; no they were taking her all the way to Angola. The State Penitentiary was not often the destination for women of any crime. Often most females convicted of anything wrongful were set up first in the local jail houses before transporting them to a more secure facility.

It did not slip my attention that Angola Prison was also reputed as the bloodiest prison in the Southern United States. The body lying on the cement floor of the shack had not been the bloodiest murder I had ever seen, nor the most gruesome or threatening in any way. If you live in New Orleans long enough, you see many things that the human mind may not be ready to process, so this matter seemed an interesting intrigue.

I stayed out of sight to avoid suspicion of the officers who brought in the screaming beauty. Thankfully my state of being afforded me many a benefit to satisfying my curiosity without being more than one hundred feet from the girl.

I listened as they brought her into the small interrogation chamber.

"Name?" a harsh male voice barked.

"Screw you." The young lady spat back at him.

-Smack.

Even from my vantage point, being able only to hear and my sight worthless, I could distinguish the sound of the back of the man's hand on the delicate cheekbone of the young woman. Not hard enough to break it, but it would be an ugly bruise. I winced at the thought of her swollen cheek and eye.

"Now missy, we're going to do this my way. I'll ask, you'll answer or there'll be plenty more where that came from." The male voice replied.

"Name?" he asked again.

"Isabella Marie Delacroix, they call me 'Marie.'"

"Alright Marie, where were you tonight?"

"Which part?" she asked cheekily.

I could hear the sound of his jacket pulling and rubbing against itself as he raised his arm to strike her again.

"With Madam, She'll tell you." She said quickly to avoid the next backhand.

"Madam who?" said the male.

"Madam Laveau ." she said as if it were obvious.

"And this… Madam… she will tell us you were with her all night; even if we were to offer her an incentive?"

"Why would you do that?" Marie asked.

"To see how much you're making up."

"I'm not, I don't even know why I'm here." She spat.

"If you don't know why you're here why were you kicking and screaming refusing to come quietly.?"

"I don't go anywhere quietly." She said.

I was bracing for another slap but it didn't come.

"How much business you get tonight, Miss Marie?"

"Business?" she sassed.

"Yes, business; you know well what I mean. Don't pretend you don't."

"Oh I know what you're implying, but I assure you, I'm no whore." She said with as much dignity as I've ever heard.

Looking back now I realize that had Rosalie been asked the same, could she have swallowed the urge to kill at the implication, would have answered with the same pride in her voice as this Marie.

"Miss Delacroix, women of your… demeanor do not bode well on society, even in a city of sin like the rat hole we just procured you from. Because whether you killed Jacob Lenoir or not, you will not see the outside of these walls again. And if you did kill him, I'll see to it personally that you ride Old Sparky."

A/N: Okay, is this even worth continuing? I mean in my head it sounds cool, but I'll let you be the judge and jury. Let me know what you think.