Eric Northman, vampire Sheriff of Area 5 is ordered by the Queen of Louisiana to investigate accusations about a Coven of Necromancers in his area. Witches who control the dead are very dangerous to vampires. He soon discovers his long-lost love is...
I could hear the raucous noises of the ever-growing crowd and although I was in no mood to be ogled by my worshipers, on a night like this it's expected of me to make an appearance. So I shall grace the blood-bags with my presence shortly. For now; I need more time to gather my thoughts.
Pam sped to the entrance of my office to greet me as I entered through the service entrance of my bar tonight, "How's the search for the little chocolaty witch going?" My impeccably dressed progeny quipped, her lips curled up into a mischievous smile.
"That is none of your concern," I grumbled my reply, and she took that as an invitation to barge into my office. She then slid herself into the seat across from me. I sighed at her actions; she should be comingling with our patrons, my charge has become lazy in the last century. All she ever does is spend my money, feed on her numerous pets, and fuck constantly... typical, "Have you made yourself useful in the least?" I asked.
"What is there to do...It's just the same shit, different night..." She pauses in mid-sentence, recalling something; whatever it was caused her normally expressionless facade to brighten a little.
I lean forward in curiosity, annoyed by her long pause.
"Oh, there is a new vampire in the club tonight." She releases her golden compact from her purse and begins powdering her porcelain nose before she continues, "He's fucking cute too. I'd fuck him..." She places the makeup pad back into her compact and snaps it closed, "if I was still into vampires...and men." She leans back in her seat, sliding her tongue across her teeth. "He smells like a newborn baby."
This news is of no significance to me other than as Sheriff it is my duty to become casually acquainted with all vampires in my area. Even if they are simply passing through, it is a law that must I greet them. If the vampire plans on conducting business or residing in my area, they will be taxed accordingly and administered a set of rules to follow.
I take my place on my throne and scan the room. The new vampire immediately catches my eye. He's a lanky, handsome fellow, with rich caramel-colored skin, with wild, curly, sandy-brown ringlets, and deep dark blue eyes. Pamela's assessment was spot-on. The vampire smells old and new at the same time, with a strange mixture of something very familiar.
It reminds me of a time long ago; when I immediately summoned him. He was paying attention and quickly paid for his synthetic blood drink and sped to the stage, so I politely motioned for him to take a seat.
"What is your name?"
"Ciree..." he answered jutting out his chin as he lustfully ogled a tall redhead dancing provocatively near the stage. He certainly behaves like a baby vamp. "Awesome bar, man, Pam is cool as hell too."
His complement flatters me and I relax in my seat and begin my formal acclimation.
"I am Eric Sherriff of Area 5, What is your business here Ciree?"
"I'm looking for some fine bitches to hit tonight." He says with a most naughty smirk.
"You shall not damage any of the blood-bags in my bar..."
My words caused him to laugh; not a vampire smirk or smile, this was very particular, his laugh was very human-like, his chuckle came from deep within, his deep cobalt eyes rolled back, and he slapped at his knees.
"Man, I don't mean fight. I don't punch or abuse no broads. I mean screw, bang, shag..." He laughed again and I found it most contagious. Once he explained himself I smiled as I observed several vampires taking notice of the odd baby vampire.
"Who is your maker?" I ask and immediately his charming smirk faded away.
"I-I don't know, he grumbled solemnly..."
"How could one not know his maker?" I questioned firmly unsure of what to make of his invasive answer.
He shrugged, narrowing his eyes. "I'll find the sonofabitch one day. But tonight I'm looking to get laid and all I see are trollops."
"Trollops?" I repeat. "What on earth is a trollop?"
He simply motioned his hand at several of my female patrons. "Damn, these bitches look, thirsty man." He said shaking his head in disappointment.
"We have plenty of refreshing drinks for our humans."
He giggled again. "Not thirsty as in parched. Don't you know what thirsty means dude?"
I folded my arms and waited for him to provide the answer.
"These females look desperate. Like they waiting for someone to save them."
I nodded my agreement with his precise assessment. Most of the humans at my bar are beyond pathetic, constantly passed around, and severely used up.
He arched his sandy brow and said, "Eric -my man, you need to have a casting call for models, make signs and posters with their pictures, and pass it around, it'll draw a classier crowd."
"I am listening."
The vampire pitches his idea, which I must admit has potential. Perhaps one day I will pursue his vision. I conclude the baby vampire is just a drifter, who's been on his own for only a little while. He certainly knows who his Sire is, but he is ashamed of him or her, after being turned and released at such a young age. He's been in Louisiana for a few months and has had no success in finding his fugitive Maker. I've seen this many times before. Eventually, Ciree will float on, continuing his explorations of the world as an un-bonded vampire.
Who knows, he may never be reunited with his Sire.
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