TONIGHT: 1998 This petit slice of the night is dedicated to my Beloved Alice. She was a creature of light...a flower that belonged in the garden of the daytime world. I knew that the very moment that I laid eyes upon her, sitting alone at Cafe du Monde on the night before Halloween. She was a beautiful innocent already under the spell of New Orleans by night...one that a dark devil such as myself could never hope to possess. I am Death incarnate. I am the evil that makes the wind shiver and the trees moan in fear. I am the darkness, and should I attempt to make such a light my own, I could only hope to put it out forever. And yet, I was immediately determined to have her, for I am one who believes he may do the impossible, with a little perseverance. The hunger for blood burned within me, and yet I knew that she was different. This was not about the hunter stalking his prey. There was something about her that called to whatever remained of the human man I had once been...over two hundred years before. I watched her in the cafe, even as I stood across the street, leaning against the iron fence that surrounds Jackson Square. The square is always locked at night, but that never keeps me out when I wish to be there. No gate, no lock, no key can keep the vampire Santiago from what he desires. The night was warm and humid, tropical and sweet, and the scent of beignets and chicory coffee drifted to me on the wind. Although the wide gulf of Decatur Street was between us, she had chosen a table close to the sidewalk, and my preternatural vision allowed me to view her nearly as well as if I had been seated beside her. She wore a strapless black evening gown, and immediately I wondered jealously if she intended to meet a companion, some man attired equally elegantly in a dark suit, who would whisk her off for dinner at Brennan's before I might even make her acquaintance. She was beautiful. Her red hair was tousled and curly, and the lights of the cafe caught in her green eyes, making them shimmer. Red hair...I had known another with auburn hair, once, it seemed, but now whoever that had been was entirely forgotten in the face of this loveliness. I watched her lift her small cup of cafe au lait to her lips, sipping the drink delicately, and I licked my own lips, as if by watching I might taste it as well. She had a plate of beignets in front of her, and I wondered with a small smirk if she could manage to eat them without finding her pretty frock covered in a fine layer of powdered sugar. I reached out to read her thoughts...but something made me hold back. Hold back, me? Was she blocking me from doing so? No, it was not that, for this beauty was as open as a rose in full bloom. Why on earth I should suddenly deny myself the pleasure of intruding into another's mind was beyond me, but I had never been one to argue with my own instincts and so I refrained from drinking in her intimacies...for the moment. She looked up, then, and it seemed those green eyes locked upon me. Had my dead heart been beating, surely it would have stopped in that instant. I kept my position, insolently lounging against the fence, not letting her know that her gaze unsettled me. Surely she could not see my expression from so far away, in any case, though I could see hers plainly. *Come to me,* I whispered into her mind. She was clearly startled. I watched with both satisfaction and excitement as she rose from her table, leaving her food untouched. She hurried across Decatur, headed straight towards me...and then she stopped at the mouth of the alley which led up to St. Louis Cathedral, looking around almost frantically. Did she not see me? Suddenly, I doubted that she had heard the thought I had sent her at all, especially when she began to run down the alley towards the church. I followed her, a shadow amongst the shadows, curious and strangely...concerned. She should not be running, not in those shoes. They were high heels of some sort, for she was a petite thing, so small and precious and delicate, and I wondered vaguely why women allowed themselves to be tortured by such contraptions. Did not her feet hurt? Still following her, I imagined seeing her thrown wantonly across my bed, wearing nothing but those shoes. I imagined slipping them from her feet, working her toes, her arches, her ankles and calves with my cold, white fingers until the muscles relaxed, until she sighed in ecstasy. Shaking my head, wondering at what sort of fool I was becoming, I continued my pursuit of her. She passed the church and continued down Pirate's Alley. I heard the clatter of her heels against the flagstones, for in this little part of the French Quarter it was quiet tonight, almost deserted. With little concentration I could take in her ragged breathing, finding the gasps as she drew oxygen into her lungs desperately erotic. Although I never wished for such things, tonight I wished I might be a mortal man, to make her pant and coo for me. She paused at the mouth of the alley, where it let out onto Royal Street, perhaps to catch her breath, and I watched as the window display of the shop on the corner caught her eye. It was filled with large Edwardian-style hats, and I did not need to read her thoughts to know that they simply delighted her. I decided at once that I should send half a dozen to her hotel tomorrow...if she did not fall into Death's arms tonight. I could have used my preternatural speed to reach her, but by now my curiosity as to why she had run and where she might be headed stopped me from joining her now, on the corner. When I was almost within arm's reach of her, she began to walk again, if more slowly. I followed her down Royal to St. Peter, where she turned off, headed towards Bourbon Street. She hesitated for just a moment at the entrance to Pat O'Brien's, then ducked inside. They stopped her at the door to present identification, as for some reason Americans do not allow each other to consume alcohol until they have passed twenty-one years. Once she was safely inside, I followed. A burly fellow in a green jacket looked at me dispassionately as I approached. I returned his gaze and could feel the prickle of fear that rose along the back of his thick neck. "Your ID, sir?" he said almost nervously. "I don't think," I said, penetrating him with my black eyes, "That it is necessary." He swallowed nervously, then stepped aside. "Uh, no. Of course not. Go on in--have a nice time, sir." I nodded and proceeded inside, down the hallway, hearing his co-worker arguing with him behind me. "What did you do that for? We could get fired, you idiot." "Well, man, you know, he was, um, French..." "So?" "Did you see those eyes? It was like-- like looking into the pits of hell..." "What?" I chuckled to myself. The pits of hell, eh? I liked that. I bet Lestat never got such good compliments, with those big, limpid pools of blue he had. No, a vampire should have black eyes...black hair...and a black heart. I had all three. Pat O'Brien's on a Friday night during the Halloween season...what a circus. What a show! It was packed with people, but I had no fear that I should not find the girl I had followed. After all, I had but to listen and I could hear the beating of her heart, the special sound of her blood moving through her veins that was like no other...her peculiar music, chiming bells that penetrated me to the core. The courtyard. She was in the courtyard. I passed through the throngs of intoxicated mortals, clutching tall glasses dewy with perspiration, all filled with a sticky-sweet red liquid known as a Hurricane. Indeed, just one of these concoctions was enough to pull the average mortal into a maelstrom of drunkenness. Would my sweet girl be poisoning herself with one of these? I imagined so, imagined the sugary flavor it would add to her blood, when at last I tasted it. The courtyard. I squeezed up a few steps, and it seemed the mortals all edged away from me, as if instinct told them there was a predator within their midst. All the tables were full, and the green jacketed waiters scurried from table to bar and back again like busy worker ants. At the center of the courtyard was the famous flaming fountain...and at a table just to the left of it, there she sat, alone...and the sadness held in her green eyes moved even the frozen heart of Death. She did not see me until I stood before her table, and then she jumped, as if I had frightened her. I loved to frighten my prey, but for once, I took no satisfaction in ruffling her. I smiled, and heard the pounding of her heart increase with the fear she must feel. She did not let it touch her expression, although there was a certain wariness to the look she gave me. "Bonsoir...Dana," I said, plucking her name from the surface of her mind. Little facts like that were easy...she might have well been wearing a name tag. Despite my good intentions not to invade her memory, some things were, of course, inevitable. And things which are nothing to the vampire are deeply unnerving to the mortal. Yet every predator must have some advantage over his prey, else he should simply starve. She looked at me, those green eyes more luminous than I had imagined, her soft red lips parting in surprise. "Do I know you, sir?" she asked. I pulled out the chair across from her and draped myself artfully over it, smiling at her rather arrogantly. I took off my top hat and set it down on the table next to her untouched Hurricane. I could see that she wanted to tell me to shove off, yet she was intrigued as well. I couldn't blame her-- after all, I know I am something striking to look at, with my long black hair and fathomless black eyes (The pits of hell! Yes, I was still gloating over that one!) and skin that is inhumanly white. My features are a bit sharp, and yet that perhaps makes them all the more pleasing. "Of course you do," I said, smiling. She blushed, and I felt a rush of blood hunger. The rosiness in her cheeks made her so desirable...so effervescent in the light of the fountain. I turned to look at that fountain and she followed my gaze. "Fascinating, isn't it?" I said. "Yes...it is rather...beautiful," she said dreamily. I winked at her and the color in her face darkened. I was pleased. "Water and Fire...two elements that do not in the least belong together...and yet they are combined, here..." I commented lazily. "It just goes to show that not everything is what it seems," she replied. "Or that, at least in New Orleans, anything is possible." "Anything?" she said skeptically. "Anything," I said, leaning across the table towards her. "History plays itself out again. The party never ends. The dead return to life...and Fire and Water can make love all night for the tourists in the courtyard of Pat O'Brien's." Her blush had reached full bloom. "I think that's enough," she said. "Very well. Shall I leave you?" I stood up. She bit her lip, nodded. I turned away, silently counting. One...two...three... "Wait!" "Yes, cherie?" "I--I don't want you to go." "Ah, my dear...you and I are like fire and water...we should not mix..." I bowed, then slipped away into the crowd. I disappeared into another corner, unseen, watching her. And then...damn it! I had left my hat. I watched her pick it up, turn it over with wonder. I was so busy watching her fondle it that I didn't see the arrival of-- "Louis!" She dropped the hat onto the table. "You frightened me." "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. I could not believe my eyes. She was waiting for my nemesis? Louis de Pointe du Lac, the one creature I hated more than anything on this earth...he had very nearly made an end of me one hundred and thirty-six years earlier. Indeed, I had come to New Orleans to pay him back and had lost track of my revenge in the city's charms. He sat down across from her, looking nervous. Of course, this one hated to be around so many mortals. He was a recluse...it was why I had never found him. I looked him over, memorizing every detail, looking for any sign of whence he had come, anything that might betray him. He was not in black, as I was, but wearing blue jeans, a cranberry-colored sweater (The fool! Did he have no idea how suspicious that looked on a warm night?) and had his dark hair pulled back in a tail. I always wore mine loose and wild...as a vampire should look. Why deny what we are? Why hide? No one believes any more...there are no hunters, no Van Helsings or even Buffys out there looking for us. Louis was, of course, very beautiful...after all, Lestat had chosen him for his looks as well as his wealth, but I had no love in my heart for him. His eyes were a brilliant green, like hers, only with that preternatural shine to them...and suddenly I wondered if her eyes, my Dana's eyes, would not look like that if I took her to me and gave her the Dark Gift. "It's all right," she said, forgiving him immediately. When she smiled at him, I nearly lunged across the courtyard in my jealousy. This one was mine! She looked at him in awe, and I seethed. "I was just...talking to..." She trailed off. Louis had picked up my hat. He frowned. "Where did this come from?" "The gentleman I was talking to. He left it here." Louis looked around suspiciously, but he did not see me. "I know the owner of this hat and he is not someone with whom you ought to be conversing." "You have no right to tell me who I may or may not converse with," she told Louis, anger flashing in those eyes. "He is dangerous," said Louis vehemently. I could not help laughing, and despite all the noise in the courtyard...music, people talking, the steady hum of electric fans...they both looked around suspiciously. "What is his name?" she asked in low voice. "It's better if you do not know," Louis replied. "If you say it too often, he may appear on your doorstep, and unless you want to die." "You told me you would only bring me death, and yet, here we are," she said, laughing as if she did not believe him. "How many times did you refuse to meet me?" "If I have led Santiago to you, I have indeed brought you death," Louis said. He looked charmingly anguished. "Santiago," Dana repeated. Louis realized his mistake. "Damn it." She laughed. "Do not worry. I promise not to say it three times quickly." Poor Louis looked confused. "I must take you back to your hotel. I will stay with you until dawn, and then you must leave New Orleans." "Louis--" "Come with me now," he cried. Perhaps she was overwhelmed by his desperation., but she stood up, agreeing. Louis looked around again, taking her by the arm. Still clutching my hat in his other hand, he steered her through the crowd and out of Pat O'Brien's. I followed them, of course. I waited until he led her back to Royal Street, headed towards Canal, and then I let him hear my footsteps, echoing his own exactly, on the pavement behind them. We passed the cathedral...then Brennan's... He hurried, but she, as a mortal, could only go so fast, and she begged him to slow down. She grabbed his arm, and he relented, stopping at once in front of Cohen's, one of the antique shops. I could see at once how exhausted she was...couldn't he? She leaned against him, her arms around him for support. "Louis...I can't...I..." My hat drifted out of his hand onto the pavement. I noticed how crumpled the brim was and felt a twinge of annoyance. It only rose as he held her in his arms, as suddenly she was no longer clutching him, but he was supporting her entirely. I could still hear her ragged breathing...she was completely beyond speech. And Louis... I expected him to be looking around, knowing I was here, but a strange look had crept across his features. He stroked Dana's hair. She let out a little moan, and I, by now was seething. Louis de Pointe du Lac threw his head back, his eyes closed, his lips parted, and I could see the sharp fangs that glistened inside his mouth. Unbelievable! He was going to take her here, not even a block from the police station? And--no! I would not allow this. With preternatural speed I was there, and I backhanded Louis across the cheek, wishing I could knock his fangs right out of his mouth. The blow was hard enough and unanticipated enough to knock him to the ground. He let go of my beautiful Dana, and I caught her before she could tumble down after him. Louis looked up at me, stunned, enraged. Dana looked at me with horror, pushed away. I set her on her feet. "Louis!" she cried. Then, to me, "You--" "I just saved your life," I said coolly. I bent over and retrieved my hat. I dusted it off and looked at it. I shook my head and glared at Louis. "Now you owe me a hat as well as your life." "You're a bastard, Santiago. Dana--run." "What?" she said. "And leave the two of you here to kill each other?" "It isn't your affair," said Louis. "Were you going to bite me?" she demanded. He looked ashamed, and I laughed. "Dana--go." She looked at me. I merely smiled at her. I made a broad gesture with my arm to show she might leave if she so desired. Then she turned and extended her hand to Louis. He looked confused. "She's helping you up, you idiot," I sighed, looking at my fingernails. "Really, if I had known fighting you was going to be so boring--" "You are not going to fight him," said Dana, pointing at me. Louis got up on his own without the use of her hand. "You intend to stop me?" I smirked. "Yes. I don't know how yet...but I'll think of something," she said, lifting her chin. I could not help but admire her bravado. Louis let out a cry of frustration and hurled himself at me. Nimbly, I stepped aside and he crashed into the brick of the building. "If you break the window, you'll set off the alarm," I commented. "Louis!" Dana yelled. "Could you please try and be a little more civil?" I couldn't hold back my laughter. She gave me an evil look, but really, it was too amusing. "He'll kill you," Louis said bluntly. "How do you know that?" Dana and I said together. Surprised, we looked at each other, and color rose in her cheeks again. "Tell me to go and I will," Louis said in a low voice, ignoring me and looking at her. In turn, she looked at me. "I have absolutely no intentions of leaving you with him, dollface," I told her. "I want your solemn promises that you will not kill each other," she said. "And don't you laugh, Santiago. I mean it." "I promise I won't kill him...tonight," I said mockingly. "Solemnly," I added. "Louis," she prompted. "I...all right. Tonight." "I suppose that will do. Thank you. Good evening, gentlemen." Dana turned and walked away alone. Louis and I stood staring after her until she disappeared into the Monteleone. "She left," I said, at last, surprised. "Good," said Louis. "Leave her alone. I beg of you, Santiago." "Why should I? Why shouldn't your begging encourage me to hunt her down, to take her--and to make her think that it is you, draining her life. I could do it," I said cockily. "I have no doubt of that," Louis replied warily. He sighed. "You always were a trickster. I have no way to stop you, nothing to bargain with." "True enough. Now if you'll excuse me. I would kill you, but I am indeed a man of my word, despite my reputation to the contrary. I'll kill you tomorrow. Or the next night." I turned to go...turned in the direction of her hotel. "Please--" His voice was filled with raw desperation. "I know I have nothing, nothing to offer you...I cannot even apologize for the past." I turned around. "I don't want your apologies. I want you to be a nice fellow and *die.* You have no idea why I did what I did, do you?" "Ah, but I do," he replied. "Armand." How I hated to hear that name spoken aloud. What bitterness it filled me with. Armand, the one for whom I could not be enough, not even when I laid my very soul at his feet. I had built Armand an empire, and he had left me for this...this whining, coward of a vampire. "Checkmate," I said softly. "Let us agree," Louis said, "Let us agree to leave this woman alone. Just this one. And then, if you choose to stalk me...it shall be between us..." "And if I do not agree?" I asked. He hesitated. "Oh, very well. Au revoir, my beloved enemy. Until tomorrow!" I cried, and I faded into blackness like the Cheshire cat, letting only my laughter ring in the air behind me. And, in the shadows...I watched him look around, listening with his preternatural senses...but he had always been weak, and he did not find me. With slumped shoulders and heavy head, he walked back down Royal Street... I turned towards the Monteleone with a grin. Armand had taught me well how to lie. Tonight, Dana would be mine.