Sequel to Vulnerable
Dakota King never thought she'd die, and in death she never thought she'd have a second chance at life. But when a deal is made with a witch, Dakota finds herself struggling to handle the loopholes that find themselves ch...
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Chapter 3: Vampire King of New Orleans
{D. K}
It was dark still, when Dakota came back to where Jane-Anne took her, bringing the younger Devereaux behind her. On the dark pavement was the witch's body, her neck leaking the substance that kept her alive. Sophia sat beside her body, tears streaming down her cheekbones.
Guilt overflowed Dakota's form as a few other witches came by, sending their respects by lighting a candle, it's small flame burning on the wick of the white wax.
A loud whistle sounded from behind, grabbing the attention of the surrounding witches, and creating quite a panic amongst them as a group of vampires approached. "Well, well, well," A fairly attractive man with bronze skin spoke aloud, his voice reeking of authority and power. "—what have we here? I've got to tell you, Soph. This street corner is not proving to be the luckiest spot for your family tonight." The younger woman stood to her feet, the scarf around her head pulling back the hair she didn't want in her face. As she stood to her full height, vampires hissed at her, baring their fangs and flashing the veins from beneath their eyes and for a split second Dakota missed it. That power. "Not even half an hour ago we had to teach your big sister a little lesson."
Tears swam in Sophie's eyes at the reminder of her family members death, and the faint traces of black mascara stained her porcelain cheeks. "We're putting her to rest, Marcel. Leave us alone."
"I never said you could move the body." Marcel's was wearing a grey beanie on his head, alone with a series of grey shirts and jackets and jeans covering his skin, making him seem like nothing more than a regular person, but it was clear he was anything but. "Matter of fact, I left her here for a reason. To send a message. If anybody is thinking about joining some kind of rebellion, my rules state that witches can't practice magic inside the quarter, and yet a little birdie informed me that Jane-Anne was cooking up something magically delicious."
Dakota shifted her weight from foot-to-foot, keeping her face stoic as she sized Marcel up. Sure he was a vampire—an obvious advantage, but she was over nine centuries old, and she had plenty of experience on how to kill, vampirism present or not. She debated on wether she was going to speak up to the man, put him in his place, but when she remembered how quickly he killed Jane, he didn't even bother with a warning, her death was instant—strictly business, so she kept her mouth shut. "While I'm at it," Marcel continued, taking a short step forward to be a bit closer to Sophie. "—my old friend, the hybrid, Klaus. He just happened to show up out of the blew asking for—of all people, Jane-Anne Devereaux. Any clue why?"
Sophie cut her eyes at Dakota, sending a sharp glare that was finished quick enough to look like an attitude towards Marcel, instead of putting Dakota in a position she wasn't prepared for. "I don't know. Witches don't get involved in vampire business."
