𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐒 2008

Welcome to K-Ville (4/4)

Welcome to K-Ville Part 4 of 4

James Talbot.

It was an old name, he supposed. The type of name that came with huge manors and butlers. A name that came with a Rolls-Royce and women clamoring for his hand. It was the type of name that required arranged marriages and a male heir so the legacy could go on forever.

He’d had two brothers, one elder and one younger, but James, or Jay, was supposed to be the prodigy of the family. Jay was the intelligent one, but more than that, the one that was good with people. His family expected him to use them. Jay wouldn’t, or maybe he couldn’t.

He’d never married. It was a last name thing–he had yet to find a woman that didn’t love his name more than she did him. His family had said that he was being ridiculous, that all of them had quite a bit of money and connections, and that marrying for love was for the lower class.

Jay had said he didn’t care. He told his brother, Arion, not to listen to them. As if he could have, anyway. Arion… Arion was the reason he didn’t use people. Simple, sweet Arion, who was smarter than anyone thought. Arion, who knew Latin better than even Jay did. Arion, who adored books and loved Mark Twain. Arion, who couldn’t hear a single thing.

One day, it was too much. One day he just couldn’t handle it, and he went out walking. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but what was done was done. It had been the height of the gothic era–Bram Stoker had just published Dracula. Jay was one of the first ones to have a copy.

But for all of the tales of vampires, he’d never thought he’d ever meet one. Nor did he imagine how different they would be. His sire was a sensible man; he didn’t ramble on about blood, nor did he wear a black cape. He had a taste for Oscar Wilde, and enjoyed Greek plays. If Jay hadn’t known better, he would have thought him to be completely common.

Something about a bite on your neck changed all that.

It had been two hundred years, about. He’d left England about one hundred and fifty years ago. He wasn’t really sure how he ended up in New Orleans. His sire had mentioned something about a friend that lived there…

He never met the friend, but stayed there nevertheless.

~~~

“So?” Draco asked, turning to Jay.

“This is gonna be freaky, man.”

“Man, I’ve got the market on freaky.”

“Fine,” Jay stated, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. And close your eyes. Mid-shift is weird as hell.”

Draco sighed, shutting his eyes. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. I swear, if this is all some crap he’s pulling with me—

“You can look now.”

Jay stood there, only, it wasn’t Jay. There was the same dark red hair pulled back into a ponytail, the same strands falling forward, framing blue eyes. Or, they were supposed to be blue. His eyes had shifted to sharp, cold gold. Not auburn or yellow-tinged, but pure molten gold, hard and flinty. His hair looked less like the deep, rich red it usually was, and more like… well, like blood. It even looked liquid, shifting and melting into the strands. His face had changed, too. It was more angular, more pronounced, and it seemed paler. Colder, maybe. Less like moonlight and more like a glacier.