Suburban Vampire: Reckoning

Chapter 1

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

"You ain't exactly what I expected to see," Jack said as he lounged on the green sofa, a cocktail in his hand. The attractive black woman leaned across the table, looking directly at him.

"And what did you expect to see?" The lady asked. "Warts and green skin? A bubbling cauldron right out of MacBeth? If so, then I am quite sorry to disappoint you. I'm as normal as anyone else."

"Despite the fact that you're supposed to be a witch."

"I do detest that word, 'witch'. The connotations are somewhat negative, although in my case not inaccurate. There are many who consider themselves 'witches' who only play the game. I, on the other hand, don't play."

"Then you know why I'm here."

The lady leaned back in her seat and shook her head. "I'm not a psychic, although I do have ways of discovering the information I seek. I would prefer to gain my intelligence the old fashioned way; through communication with the living."

Jack guffawed. "Living? Then you don't know me, sister."

"A bad choice of words, perhaps. I apologize, I do not often entertain vampires, Jack, is it?"

"That it is, darlin'. And I fear you have not properly introduced yourself to me, Madame Cantu?"

"Why, you may call me Rose. My friends all call me Rose, and I do hope that we will be friends, Jack."

"You are a gracious lady, indeed."

"And you are a true gentleman. So few of those in this world, anymore. It's really too bad, men used to open doors for women, hold their chairs, give them their coats when it was raining or cold. Gentlemanliness seems to be a dying art, these days."

Jack lifted his cocktail glass. "Well, here's to the old ways, then."

"Indeed. Now, to business. LeBeau was not terribly specific as to why you wished to contract my services. I would like to find out what it was you had in mind."

"Well, that's just the thing. My problem has a name, and that name is Scott Campbell."

"And is this Scott Campbell living, or dead?

"Undead. He's a vampire."

"You do realize what necromancy is, do you not, Jack?"

"Of course I do! Look, LeBeau said you could help me out here."

"What do you want me to do with this Scott Campbell, Jack?"

Jack rose from his seat and started pacing around the room. "I don't know! I was hoping you'd be able to find some sort of spell, or charm, to get him on the same page as me. Do that Voodoo you do."

"Well, I'm not strictly a Voodoo practitioner, although I am well-versed in the tradition and borrow from it. I find familiarity with the Voodoo religion most helpful in my particular field of discipline. However, I have to tell you, that I am not the person to go to for charms. What, is this a romantic situation?"

"No! I don't veer that direction. It's not like that. No, Scott's my boy! My son! And right now, he and I don't see eye to eye, comprende?"

"By 'son', I take it you mean that you were his sire, right? And he has rejected you?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

"Highly unusual, for a sireling to reject his maker."

"Yep! Especially so early on in his career."

"And when did you turn against your maker, Jack?"

"I thought you said you weren't psychic."

Rose smiled. "I didn't need to be. But we're not here about you. I do not provide counseling for vampires. I am a necromancer. I bring the dead back to life. So, unless you're wanting me to restore Mr. Campbell's mortality, then I'm afraid you may have come to the wrong place."

"Then what the hell am I here for? I mean, other than wasting time." Jack started toward the door, thinking that he had been misdirected. LeBeau said that Madame Cantu was one of the best. Best for what?

"Jack, wait. Perhaps I may be of assistance after all."

"How so? Can you put me in contact with someone who can work up some juju to get ol' Scotty under my thumb, where he should properly be?"

"Jack, the fact is, I do know my spells and charms, and most of them do not work on the undead. There are spells for protection, warding spells. Spells to convince them to go away, not to harm you. I am not exactly sure what you want, but I am certain it's none of those."

"Let me lay it on the line, then. I turned Scott Campbell believing he would happily join me in a rebellion to bring down the House. I turned him because he fully met the description of a foretold 'Chosen One' from prophecy. A lot of vampires believe in that stuff, and I figured that if he was with me..."

"You could use him as a pawn. Use him to draw popular support for your rebellion. Is that correct?"

"Nail on the head, darlin'. Needless to say, it didn't work out the way I'd planned. Not only is the House of Portland still standing, I am now a fugitive from vampire justice, with a price on my head. And my boy wants me -- or, wanted me -- dead. In fact, they all think I'm dead. So, if I'm gonna resurface, and kick the living shit out of the Portland House, I'm gonna need an edge. I am going to need Scott Campbell."

"So, why didn't Mr. Campbell side against you, might I ask?"

"Because he's still attached to his 'humanity'. He's still attached to his God. He still wants to do 'the right thing'. He is so non-vampiric, let me tell you, my boy is a big disappointment."

"Incredible. He was not corrupted by the power that being a vampire brings?"

"Not enough, anyway."

"Incredible, indeed. If power could not do the trick, then perhaps, money?"

"Thought of that. I really don't think that would work, either."

"This truly is a pickle. If he cannot be moved by power or wealth, then I can see that you have a dilemma."

"Don't I just. I was hoping that you would have the answer."

"I may. But the course of action I am considering is extreme. If it goes well, then you will have your 'chosen one'. He will serve your goals, fully and completely."

"And if it goes sideways?"

"Then Scott Campbell will die."