Looking for Lasher
The clouds cast shadows on the patchwork ground, Lucy had her head resting on the window of the plane. The humming vibration of the engines was a rhythmic catalyst to her daydreams. Lucy’s Aunt Susana had invited her down to New Orleans for her birthday, as a very special treat, she was invited to Anne Rice’s, Vampire Ball. An avid reader, Lucy had long ago read the Vampire Chronicles, remembering visions held of Louis, and Lestat rooming in the dark shadows, seducing willing victims to their parlor, and now, she was going to get to see some of this herself. A school friend had loaned her “The Witching Hour,” to read in light on her trip, she had read most of it, between packing, and hanging with her friends. Her imagination was saturated with the rich history of the Mayfair witches, and to think, she was attending her party!
Lucy smiled and closed her eyes as she thought of her aunt. Susana March is a quirky, but exciting woman. She is tall and blonde, and her long flowing black lace shawl, with fringe swooshes all round her when she moves. Lucy’s aunt owns “The Black Rose” an old bookstore in the French Quarter, with apartments above. It is said to be on the Haunted History Tour, and once occupied by a Voodoo Priestess. It was all so darkly exciting. Lucy had only visited her Aunt Susana and the shop on a trip with her parents when she was ten, the bookstore had intrigued and frightened her. Lucy awoke from her daydream as the plane landed and she was ready to deplane.
A very handsome man with a sign bearing her name had picked her up at the airport, with a smile that twinkled of a sensuous nature, he approached her, “Lucy? Hi I am Roger Bertrand, a friend of your aunts. She had some work to do and ask if I would fetch you. Which of course, is my pleasure.” A bit disarmed by his good looks, Lucy, smiled, and stammered, “. . . Hmm yeah sure. Thank you.” Roger collected her carry-on bag and as a Southern gentleman is will to do placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd.
On the car ride Roger explained that Susana was helping her friend get ready for her annual mask ball, and that Lucy was invited, and would be attending that evening. “Mask ball? Why I don’t happen to have a ball gown with me.” At this Roger smiled and chuckled, “Oh, not to worry dear one that has all been handled. “Mercy, the lady that works for Susana has everything laid out for you.”
The apartments were above the store, they had high ceilings, ornate moldings, and was decorated with Victorian antiques, and things she had gathered in her years in India. Susana was, a writer for Rolling Stone, and had covered The Beatles, and their transcendental years. Layers of bright paisley fabrics covered the windows, and rich Persian rugs festooned the floors. The room’s primary wall covering was bookshelves from floor to ceiling. The reading room was complete with a small fireplace and a bay window that looked down on the street below. “Well Lucy I have to go take care of some business but I will be back to escort you to the ball. Susana will be dressing there, and Mercy will be here if you need anything. Susana said to tell you to make yourself at home, and she will see you later.” Lucy smiled at the face with the luminous skin and sharp dark features. He took her hand and kissed it gently, “I will be back to pick you up around six o’clock. Be ready, we do not want to be late.” At that he smiled and bowed, yes he bowed, and turned and descended the stairs.
Slightly mesmerized Lucy sat in the comfy easy chair, and devoured the rest of the book. Mercy a sweet and demure lady of Creole complexion had brought her some tea, and Benet’s. Lucy fell asleep in the afternoon warmth of the sun coming into the cove in the bay window. When she awoke it was dark in the room and all she could see was a light coming from upstairs. She couldn’t hear a sound, weren’t there people in the store below? It was very quiet and Lucy heard music coming from an old Victrola upstairs. She tried to stand and she couldn’t finally she stood cautiously and approached the stairs.
. . . to be continued. . .
I started this story last year and did not finish it. It still has a part two which you will have to wait until next year to read. Thanks everyone for participating. Photobucket has been a biotch so I do not have badges yet. Love you. Happy Birthday, to me.