New Orleans is a Louisiana city on the Mississippi River, near the Gulf of Mexico. Nicknamed the "Big Easy," it's known for its round-the-clock nightlife, vibrant live-music scene and spicy, singular cuisine reflecting its history as a melting pot of French, African and American cultures.
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And it's home. Home to rich culture, a diversity of people and of all...supernaturals. Marcel Gerard, the King of New Orleans. Being a vampire over 200 years old, he controls the town, keeping the witches and werewolves in check while also creating a balance between the human to supernatural ratio in town.
The witches are the ones who are kept in check the most. They lead normal lives in town but are banned from using their magic. Whenever someone does, they pay the consequences because Marcel always finds out. Nothing stays hidden from him in his own town.
The werewolves are the ones that were chased out of town a long time ago. There are a few that still reside in the far off bayou but none are allowed to be spotted in town without putting their lives in the line.
And then there's me. I am a witch. I am a werewolf. I am both and yet I live in the center of the city and lead a normal life without having to face any threats whatsoever. Wonder how that happened?
Well, it's a long story, actually. Let me start by introducing myself:
I am Evelyn Kenner, 23 and an orphan. I am, what people call a 'bastard' child, considering I was conceived by accidentally. My parents learned about me after they met each other when they were both in Hawaii. A few drink-fueled, ecstatic nights later, my mother found herself knocked up with me and my father long gone.
Nine months later, my mother had me, all by herself when her family had shunned her for getting knocked up illegitimately, let alone with an 'abomination' of all. Yes, my mother was a witch while my father was a werewolf. And that's how I ended up with both the genes.
I have very little memory of my mother in my mind because she wasn't around for too long. 4 years, to be exact. It took her four years to finally get rid of her problem- me. She dropped me off at a foster care and never looked back. And that's how I grew up.
It wasn't too bad, honestly. I made a fair amount of friends and learned all I know today. My best friend of then was a girl, a few years younger than me, but still the closest thing I ever had to a family. She was my best friend, my partner-in-crime, like a sister to me. We even had very similar birthmarks, or so we thought back then. We were inseparable...up until both of us got picked up by two foster families on different ends The States.
The foster family that took me in was...well, not too kind. I did all the work at home- cook, clean, wash, dry- everything a maid does. In return, they offered me food, shelter and an at-home education. To me, it seemed fair until it didn't.
At 16, one night I sneaked out of the house and left town, never looked back. The work wasn't what bothered me, it was what came next. As I got older, the mistreatment got worse as well. From screaming and other verbal abuse to the ends where they even laid hands on me a few times, it all got too much for me. So I finally mustered up the courage to risk it all and leave, for my own sanity.
