Emile watched them from the shadows in the pale moonlight. He had driven the limo slowly and sedately up St. Charles Street in New Orleans' fashionable Garden District, past majestic Second Empire Victorian houses. He looked for addresses as he glided down the tree-lined street in the dark of the night and eventually found the one he sought. Following the deeper shadows, he had moved around to the rear garden of the house to where he could see the moonlight dancing on the surface of a swimming p
Years and then more than a decade went by with nothing much happening in Emile LaCour's rotting plantation house on the Mississippi beyond the dust accumulating and the oaken walls drying out and spitting. Gage Angle still held his mentor and tormentor in his bed chamber on the second floor of the mansion, shackled to his bed, and rejuvenating himself only when Gage brought him young men to feed on. And Gage did this as rarely as possible.
Gage wasn't Emile. He grew tired of the k
Emile had just been renewed, and he was back outside a gay bar on Bourbon Street at 2 A.M. during Mardi Gras, not a bit out of place draped in his black silk cape, watching the entrance to the bar. He only had four days to pull this plan off. But if he did, he would be solving two problems. He was on entirely new territory, however; he had never tried anything like this in his entire 462 years. But he was getting desperate on two counts. He needed help maintaining his affairs and he needed someo
© All rights reserved