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[salveo-opes.livejournal.com]

Yes, I know, we all do, that this is NOT a fic comm, however, I did get permission from our comm owner to post this for your amusement.



Eighteen months ago, I came up with the rather silly idea/brain puke of a short satire fic. This is it, although I'd like to at least say that I can really write when I want to. (No, it never was beta read because I never really do anything with any of my fic. *g*)



The Bad Vamp Writer
Salveo_Opes
©2005


The heavy, primal beat of music from downstairs still shook the floor, in spite of the soundproofing. A disgusted sound escaped Helene Trapagnier as she disrespectfully barged into Scarlet Savoy’s private rooms. As usual, the French doors leading to the balcony over Toulouse Street were thrown open to catch the balmy breeze blowing. “Everything is as you demanded.”

“Look at this. How idiotic to write our people as though we had Nordic coloring. And to portray us as such simpletons…this is trash.” The blue-eyed brunette tossed down the trashy romance novel she’d been perusing. She emphasized her lingering French accent intentionally.

Helene set her jaw and restrained herself from rolling her eyes as she pulled the French doors closed to keep their conversation private. “Perhaps you wouldn’t find yourself so irritated if you didn’t subject yourself to such reading material.” As if the title didn’t say it all—Beloved Cajun, Creole Vampyre. There was definitely a difference between Creoles and Cajuns, but clearly some people were too stupid to bother with any sort of research for any semblance of accuracy. “I still am of the opinion that you are fucking up by forcing the expansion of your territory.”

Angered, the shorter vampire stood and stalked across the room. “And exactly what is wrong with my expanding our territory, Helene? Legion has done just that very thing.”

“Legion will retaliate and has had expanded territory for many years. They can do so because their numbers are greater, hence the name Legion, Scarlet. I do understand that because of the New Orleans vampire thing being done to death and done so to the point of such gross cliché, that no one would truly believe we are here. Still, by doing this, you are pushing the boundaries and rules we have had for several hundred years. Not to mention, you risk exposing us to those not like ourselves.”

“I do not care about a treaty. What I care about is expansion. It is the way of the future.”

“You are allowing greed to endanger us.”

“You are being narrow-minded and too set in the old ways. You are dismissed.” Scarlet waved her hand casually to encourage her second-in-command to leave.

Without a word, Helene left through the courtyard. The only recourse was to murder Scarlet. The problem was, if she did the actual killing, she would be expected to take Scarlet’s place as the head of the Danaeid clan, which was comprised entirely of females. Since Jean Lafitte had gracefully negotiated a treaty to bring peace between the warring male and female vampire tribes of New Orleans, all things related to the sex trade fell under the dominion of the Danaeids. All things alcohol and drug-related fell to that of Legion’s domain. “Jesus fucking Christ in stiletto heels.”

Quickly walking to the nearest church, she stepped into a confessional booth. She didn’t have much of a wait. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

“When was your last confession?”

Relief swept through her as she heard Father Michael’s voice. Sliding the panel aside, she looked at him. “What can I do? I do not want to be leader and yet if I do nothing, things will become quite unpleasant. Our entire existence is threatened.”

“There is a Shad-ew. Perhaps I can persuade him to intervene since this is not an aggressive move you yourself are advocating.” The priest told her.

“Perhaps? Do you think maybe you can arrange a meeting with someone from Legion, so they know that all of us who are Danaeid are not in favor of this? Or would that simply serve to worsen things?”

Father Michael Rau shook his head. “I see both positive and negative aspects of doing either one.”

“Just fucking great.” Helene said with a sigh. “I’m really getting too old for this shit.”

“I understand. Really, I do.” He answered honestly, thinking of the Shad-ew vampire who was considerably older than himself. As far as what was known, Nymandus was the last of his kind. He had also vowed never to kill again, even though that was what he’d been created for centuries ago.

“If you can set something up, that would be great. It certainly doesn’t have to be here. Somewhere in the daytime and public would be fine. Just do whatever works for you and leave me a message.”

“Have a pleasant afternoon, Helene.”

“Thank you, Father, and also to you.” She replied, rising and closing the confessional panel. The sharp click of her heels punctuated the mid-afternoon silence of the church. Stepping back out into the late autumn day, Helene realized she felt considerably better after having spoken with the priest. Those who served in his capacity were the peacemakers—between warring vampire clans after the time of Jean Lafitte. Cursed were they….

Going to Roseblood, a shop located two blocks away, she found the owner. “Olivia, I need to speak with you.”

“Of course I’ll be right with you. Keenan, can you finish rearranging the poison jewelry, please?” The tall redhead stepped from behind the counter as her lover appeared to do her bidding. “Come into the back.”

Once certain they were alone, Helene sat down on the edge of the fountain. “I hate to ask this. I really do.”

“Pumpkin, you can ask me anything and you know I’ll be happy to do it. If it wasn’t for you finding me, I’d still probably be out on the streets or dead.”

“Things are not…going well with Scarlet. Most of us want to be left alone to our…lifestyle. We have been coexisting peacefully with Legion since the beginning of the nineteenth century. We do not take more than we need from those who come for our services and we send them on their way, still whole and living.”

“But…?” Olivia asked, plucking a stray gardenia bloom and striding to the fence to toss it over. She knew Helene hated gardenias because when she’d come back to life after dying the first time, her coffin had been full of them. That was in…what was it again? Oh yes, 1795.

“Scarlet is making her move. The first part of her plan is to have some roughnecks who are doing the hot sheeting thing on a rig in the Gulf kill whoever is of the Legion clan before they can send the pig up the pipeline.”

Shaking her head, Olivia admitted her confusion. “What? What? Has she been watching too much tv again?”

“Legion has—dare I say it—members who work out on the oil rigs here and there. Hot sheeting is where two crews of men share the same beds. While group A may be out working, group B is sleeping. When group B goes to work, group A comes back into the living quarters and goes to bed to sleep. The sheets don’t really cool off between people using the bed, hence the phrase hot sheeting. The pig is what is being used to transport the drugs up into the country.”

“Not an actual pig, I take it?”

Helene sighed. “No, not an actual pig. Pigs are balls that run through pipelines to clean them out—the smart ones are computerized and automatically go where they’re programmed, from anywhere out in the Gulf to way up north. They vary in size from a soccer ball to the diameter of ten feet thereabouts. They’re hollow and that’s how Legion is transporting drugs.”

“So they’re sending drugs from down here to wherever via the pipelines, starting at the rigs out in the Gulf? I guess that’s easy enough to do because it’s so deserted out there and law enforcement territory for the US must not extend that far out.” Olivia commented.

“They’re maintaining a low profile, since what they do doesn’t concern us. It’s not threatening us in any way. In fact, we need the end result of what they do.” Helene said almost bitterly, as she referred to the Danaeid clan needing to feed from those who were drugged from what Legion brought into the country via pigs through the pipeline.

“So what is it you need me to do?”

“I need a big, bad storm so the rigs in the Gulf are evacuated. That way, whoever Scarlet has hired to kill on the rig either won’t get the chance, or won’t be able to get there. If enough of a delay can be worked out, maybe I can alert someone in Legion to what she’s up to. I just have to get them to believe me. The mistrust between the clans runs deeply and has for many years. The treaty has always been tenuous at best.”

“As long as you can do the lerting thing, that would be good. This place needs more lerts.”

“Thank you, Olivia, for that amusing and witty comment.” Helene told her. “I will owe you for this.”

Reaching out, the taller woman touched the vampire’s cheek. “You’re looking a bit pale. Do you need to eat?”

“I should be okay until I get home.”

“Bet I can get Keenan to give you a fresh donation.” Olivia coaxed cheerfully.

“You just want to watch, don’t you?”

“You know I do. I’m just deranged in that way. Besides, we’re all mature adults here.”

“If you’re offering and he’s willing, I won’t turn it down. Fresh is better than…chilled.” Helene told Olivia, following her inside.

“Keenan, Helene is looking a bit poorly. Would you mind horribly feeding her? I’m going to turn the camera for upstairs on.”

Turning, the blond stood. “No, I don’t mind, but what if you need me?”

“I can handle things just fine down here.” Olivia told him, just before kissing his cheek. Flipping the sign hanging on the glass door, which said ‘back in fifteen minutes.’ She picked up the camera and sat down behind the counter with it, hidden from view of any customers attempting to look in.

Taking the vampire’s hand, he led her upstairs to the living quarters. Making certain they were within range of the video camera for Olivia, Keenan waited. The few times he’d done this, he let Helene make the first move.

Putting her face to his neck, she stood there for a moment, taking in his scent. When she sensed him relax slightly, Helene unbuttoned the morbidly foppish shirt he wore for the sake of appearance—after all, Roseblood catered to those who fantasized about the more morbid things in life. Kissing Keenan very chastely, she slowly moved her mouth down his chest, barely touching his skin with her lips.

When Helene got to the waist of his black, crushed velvet pants, she unlaced them and shoved them down around his hips. He couldn’t help but stare into the camera where he knew Olivia was watching. “I’ll fuck you stupid for this, later.” He mouthed the words silently and smiled at her as he felt the vampire’s mouth on his cock. His hands went to her head, his fingers weaving through her soft hair.

Quickly, Helene worked Keenan over with her mouth. The harder he got, the faster she licked and sucked, her nails digging into his hips. As he climaxed, she swallowed his nourishing gift fully, and allowed herself the luxury of taking in a bit of his body’s energy as well. A satisfied sound escaped her as she stood.

With ease, she picked him up and carried him to bed, making short work of his clothing and tucking him in as if he were a child. “Thank you, Keenan. That was so much more pleasant than the stuff in plastic. I don’t care what anyone says, it does pick up the taste and gets too thick when chilled.”

“Glad to help you out.” He replied, falling into a restful sleep.

As she walked past the camera, Helene blew a kiss at Olivia. Going downstairs, she thanked the other woman. “It was so kind of you to share.”

“I didn’t mind a bit. That didn’t take long, though.”

“I was hungry.” Helene smiled.

“I figured as much.” Olivia commented, replacing the camera. Oh, but she could not wait until the shop was closed for the night and she could fuck Keenan into insanity and beyond. Then she would be able to work on the storm for Helene.

“Thank you again, Olivia. I do apologize for dragging you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything. That’s what a friend is for—to help you hide the bodies.”

“In this case, that very well may be true.” Helene told her, leaving the shop called Roseblood.

* * * * *

Samac Bonabel stared at the screen in front of him. Father Michael was insistent they meet and was saying it was of the utmost urgency they do so.

Typing in a reply, he was of the opinion that the sooner he could get this meeting over with, the better. Sending the terse response, he left the computer on as he went to go make preparations for the meeting. The less time between him notifying the priest about the meeting, the less time anyone else involved had to plan something devious.

Since this was business and not pleasure, he would make certain his clothing was appropriate for the situation. Taking a shower, he got out and quickly skimmed the thick towel over his body to dry off.

A few minutes later, he was staring at himself in the mirror. Dressed in an Etienne original suit designed strictly for himself, Samac turned his head slightly. Tweaking a perfectly gelled spike of black hair, he adjusted the deep green silk tie once more and left. Just like there were different kinds of people walking the earth, so were there many diverse vampires, some of who could actually do things like go out into the sunlight and cast a reflection in a mirror. Not all ingested blood, either.

Locking the door, he began walking in the direction of Angelina’s, which was a short distance away. Approaching the award-winning restaurant, he made a quick perusal of the area. Nothing appeared to be amiss, so all was as it should be for this time of evening.

Going in, he requested the private Bienville dining suite and left instructions that Father Michael and whomever was with him were to be shown in immediately.

Ordering a bottle of absinthe, he seated himself and studied the surroundings. The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow over the flawless, and interestingly enough, historically and architecturally accurate décor and design. He hadn’t long to wait—only a few minutes later, Father Michael arrived with a woman and they were escorted in through a secret entrance. “Father Michael.” He shook hands with the priest and turned his attention to the woman.

“Helene Trapagnier.” She offered her hand, hoping he wouldn’t sense how nervous she was. Even as Legion, he was well within his rights to have her executed, were he to find her information unacceptable. Since this was an unofficial meeting, she purposely omitted her clan name.

“Samac Bonabel. I must say, I am captivated, Helene.” He not only took her hand, but he raised it to his mouth, not taking his gaze away from her amber colored eyes.

* * * * *

Laurie Maurin blearily lifted an eyelid halfway and sighed, exhausted from the effort. Trying again, she got it up a little further and tuned her mind into the sound of the phone ringing. Ignoring that noise, she stared up at the black pointe d’esprit lace wrapped around the frame of the canopy bed, which draped and flowed in a perfectly arranged mess to the floor.

Was it or wasn’t it? Had she or hadn’t she? She felt like it physically. With a groan, she sighed, slowly reaching for the turned off telephone beside her bed to answer. “What?”

“Come on, Pumpkin. Rise and shine! Don’t you remember what today is?”

Putting her hand to her forehead, she rubbed her face. “What is today?”

“Your book signing at Drave’s.” Canos Cenac lit up a cigarette and took a drink of coffee on the other end of the line. “Rough night?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Scooting to the edge of the bed, Laurie let her feet touch the floor.

“Writing?”

“Uh…no.” Hearing the hopeful and perky tone in his voice made her want to hang up on him. Shuffling her way to the antique vanity, she looked for either a drink or a smoke, preferably both. There wasn’t anything in the bottle she found stashed there. She decided to carry it to the kitchen.

”Hello? You still there?”

“Sorry, Canos, I was thinking. Looking for something, actually.” Trudging into the kitchen, she chunked the empty wine bottle in to the trash and looked in the cabinet above the stove. Nothing there.

“What time are you going to show up? Are you going to be fashionably late? And remember, it’s supposed to be raining later on today, so dress accordingly.”

“Whatever. What time am I supposed to be there?” She wanted to rip his perky little head off.

“At one. Right now, it’s eleven. That gives you two hours to become human again. Uh-oh, my other phone is ringing, must go for now! I’ll see you over there.”

Frowning, Laurie severed the connection and tossed the phone down on the table. Coffee was first, so she could think with a clearer head and then a cigarette. Or maybe a cigarette, and then coffee. She shook her head. Either way, it was all the same—caffeine and nicotine were both what she needed equally right now.

Putting some coffee on to brew, she stared at the pot, waiting. A few minutes later, she impatiently flipped the switch again, back and forth. Still nothing. Then the realization that the coffee pot wasn’t plugged in hit her and she cursed at it, plugging the cord in. “Damn stupid coffee pot.”

“Oh, like that is going to do any good, Aunt Laurie.”

“Sorry.” Laurie sat down and looked at the preteen who was standing there talking to her. “You’re late for school, aren’t you, Scarlet?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going. I mean I don’t have to go, remember? You don’t remember much these days, do you? Why is that? Could it be all the emo goth clothes you wear that are making you lose your mind because you want to be what you write?”

Laurie got up and poured a cup of coffee. “Scarlet, it’s because—“ She turned around and saw her niece was gone again. “Bitch.”

Putting the coffee on the table, she found her purse and dug around in it, finding a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, she took a drag, pulling the comforting smoke deep into her lungs. Now she could go get into the shower and make herself feel human again. Or try to.

Almost two hours later, Canos met Laurie at the bookstore. “So where have you been? You’re almost late.”

“I’m not late yet, all right?” She snapped at him, lighting up one last smoke before the signing.

“You okay?”

She held her cigarette with one hand and rubbed her face with the other. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I hope there’s special tea for me here.”

“You seem like you’ve been a little stressed out lately.”

“Ha! You think? You try doing what I do, Canos. How can I top what I’ve already done? My fans expect it of me.”

He took her hand. “It’s okay, you’ll be fine. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

The dark haired man kissed her on the cheek and she smiled at him, pushing her glasses up on her head, displacing her graying curls. “You are wonderful. Too bad that rat bastard ex of mine didn’t have that attitude.”

“He just didn’t understand you, was all, Pumpkin.” Canos could feed her the biggest bunch of bullshit to stroke her ego and it worked every time. “Besides, when one is a slave to one’s muses, one must listen. He was capable of taking care of himself.”

Taking another drag and exhaling, Laurie beamed at him. “You’re right. You’re so sweet, Canos. Thank you. Sometimes I wish you were straight.”

“Any time, darlin’ and come on, I’ll get you some coffee.” He opened the door for her and guided her inside the Gothic bookstore. “Come sit here at this table and we’ll get everything situated.”

Several hours later after the signing, Laurie was back at home, with Canos and his boyfriend, still attempting to sort out in her mind if she had been Helene again in her dreams. Taking the drink in front of her nose, she smiled up at Canos, wondering how he could have wound up with someone like Leland. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Perhaps you need a ghost writer, Pumpkin. Just to help you out since you do all your own editing, research, and calendar work for consistent time passage in your fic.” He suggested tactfully, placing an arm around Leland, who snuggled up to him.

“Oh no, I possibly couldn’t! I mean only I know what’s going on in my brain!” Laurie objected after taking a long drink of the hurricane.

“My Aunt Laurie! Emo goth auntie!” Scarlet taunted from the doorway, just beyond where the two men were sitting. They couldn’t see her, but her aunt could. She smiled, flashing her fangs. “Look at me, Auntie Laurie! Look what you’ve done to me!” She squealed in anger, turning round so as to make her long, antiquated dress poof out. “You’ve ensnared me in your wicked ways!” Stopping, she glared at the woman. “I could always grow up to be Helene!”

“Shut up, Scarlet! Stop it!”

Canos and Leland looked at each other. Laurie was talking to someone named Scarlet again. “Perhaps it was a little early to have a drink, Laurie.” He reached across the space to take it, but the author stood, walking away.

“You deranged little bitch, you are not going to be Helene! I am Helene! Nobody else can be her! Just me!” Throwing her glass at the pre-teen, she stalked toward her. “Go to school!”

“I can’t go to school because I’m dead, remember? Now who’s deranged? You’re the one conversing with a figment of your imagination!”

Laurie stopped abruptly as she was reminded of that. Catching a glimpse of Samac Bonabel in the courtyard, she then turned around and looked at Canos. “If you’ll excuse me, I must step out into the courtyard for a moment to take care of some business. I’ll return shortly. Please help yourselves while I’m outside.”

A moment later, Leland and Canos looked at each other, appalled, as they watched Laurie having what appeared to be a conversation with thin air. She was smiling and nodding pleasantly.

“Of course I’d love to come with you, Samac. I would be delighted to. Every second of every day that we aren’t together is pure torture for me.” She knew he doted on her and of course, she should show her devotion to him in return.

“Shall we?” He offered her his arm and escorted her into the pool of cold, sparkling water. He took her in over her head to embrace her in eternal darkness.


~The End~