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worn her most powder blue beautiful gown and all her favorite jewelry and lay down on the
floor in front of the door as the sun rose. I could only stand there and stare at the thing that
had been Lila. All that was left was the soft satin waves of her blonde hair.
 Micahlene was disgusted. What a moron! What a moron! She cried. Her cascading
brown hair and face were covered in soot as she fussed over Lila's body. Allurius hadn't said
a word. He stood at the top of the staircase motionless. I pulled Micahlene up by her
shoulders and crushed her against my chest as she cried her tearless sobs.
  Suddenly Micahlene pulled away and screamed to Allurius that he was a heartless brute
and this was his doing. Then she turned on me and made me crush the remains under foot
and scatter them in the swamp. It was a ghastly task but I didn't dare fight her on it. Not the
way she was yelling at both Allurius and I. She wanted us gone that very night. She all but
pushed us out of the door. So we went to New Orleans as we had planned.
 Lila's death effected Allurius greatly. I couldn't bring myself to feel the same guilt he must
have felt. I rarely saw him come out his room and when he did he always looked disheveled
and misplaced. The first time I had seen him like this it shocked me into silence. Allurius used
to take hours to primp and he always chose his garments with great care, it wasn't uncommon
for him to change two or thee times in one night. But now he would mull around in the same
outfit for days at a time until I pointed it out. He would shrug and sluggishly go into his rooms
to change.
 After a year or so he went and dug himself into the ground beneath the porch of our
home and stayed there. After a while I had even stopped crawling down there and asking him
if he needed anything. This is the way he grieved so I left him to it. I lived as are recluse for
years and years, the 1900's came and went I only ventured out now and then to feed and
even that was few and far between.
 The world didn't start to interest me again until around the 1980's. Allurius was still in his
hibernation and powerfully bored with New Orleans, I left for New York City. I got a hold of an
investor and accountant to manage my vast fortune left for me in a trust left behind by my
grandfather. I bought apartments in downtown Manhattan and Greenwich Village.
 Mortals began to interest me in a way they never had before. I wanted to be around
them, to hear them speak and feel the soft press of their limbs against me in a crowded club. I
spent time at the Jefferson Market Library listening in on their conversations and asking
people about their book choices.
 I seemed to intrigue them as well, which I must admit wasn't very hard to do. They liked
my black hair, my blue eyes and alabaster skin. I was told frequently how beautiful I was. I
had to learn the precise point to end a conversation before a mortal began to fall in love with
me. I didn't want to be drawn to anyone and risk the chance of hurting him or her as severely
as Lila had been. That is until I met Gwendolyn Nona Alden.
 It was purely by chance that I saw her. It was March of »88, it was bitterly cold and had
snowed the night before. The city night was alive with noise and the lights from buildings and
passing cars. I was going to a hole in the wall pub for an open-mic night. I settled in the back
of the room at a table beside the bar and watched as she took the stage.
 She was tall, about 5'9 or so. Her fiery red hair was a wild tumble of ringlets around her
face and her eyes were the most astonishing shade of green. They were so bright they looked
almost neon. Her nose was just a bit too large for her face and her lips were rose petals
against her freckled skin. Her guitar was fastened to a sling across her back.
 She brought the microphone to her bare lips and said in a low raspy voice that her name
was Gwen Alden and she was going to sing »What difference does it make' by the Smiths.
She settled down on the lone stool and strummed her guitar before opening her mouth to
sing. Gwen sang beautifully, I believe and will always believe she had been blessed with an
extraordinary gift. The devil will find work for idle hands to do. She crooned into the micro-
phone, her hands still playing the guitar. I was enraptured with this girl and her hypnotically
haunting voice. The room erupted into applause when she finished.
 I knew I couldn't just let her leave. I wanted her to sing for me. I wanted her to come to
my home and fill it with the sound of her voice and guitar. The crowd coerced her into per-
forming again. A blush blossomed from her neck to hairline, it was a done deal! I had to have
her. She sang the same song but this time without her guitar and instead used her fingers to
snap the rhythm of the song. I stood up from my seat and swiftly made my way outside the
club. For the first time in my existence I was at a loss for words as to what I could say. What I
could do to make her come back to my loft with me. I needed the words that would make her
fall in love with me.
 It was about another hour or so before she came outside for a cigarette. She only wore a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]