Tarot Cards

Prolouge

Dorian Connors downed the remnants of his drink before he shrugged on his black, leather jacket and waved the cute bartender-whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him-over. She flashed him a pearly white smile as she sashayed over to him. Her deep-dark skin glistened against the amber lit bar as she reached him.

"You all ready to close up, sugar?" She asked him her southern twang accented voice.

"Yes, please." He said politely. "I'm sorry, I forgot your name."

"Camille." She said, peering back at him through thick lashes as he stifled a grin.

"Ah, yes, Camille. How could I have forgotten that?" He said smoothly as he fished for his wallet in his jeans pocket and retrieved his card.

"Give yourself a nice tip." He said as he handed her his card.

"Oh, it'll be a generous one." She shot him a pinched smirk.

"That's perfectly fine." He grinned.

She walked off to settle his tab and was back two minutes later; handing him his card and receipt. Dorian's eyes caught sight of the phone number written at the bottom of the receipt with the words 'Call Me' written beside it. He looked up and caught her slick grin as she walked away to great another patron. He couldn't fight back the giant smile that lit up his face as he stood from his chair and headed out of the bar onto the lively, warm streets of the French Quarter.

The smell of rain was thick in the air as he looked up at the New Orleans night sky. The moon was a perfectly glowing crescent and there wasn't any sign of any more storm clouds. The lights of the street lamps and bar marquees danced off the wet, brick street. Dorian looked down at the receipt still in hand and smiled again before stuffing it into his jeans pocket. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as he headed to the direction of his hotel.

To his dismay, Dorian was surprised that more people weren't partying out tonight. Yes, it had rained, but it didn't cool the weather but a few degrees and the night was still young. This should've felt off to him, though he brushed off the eerie feeling he got as quickly as it came. When he turned the corner off the infamous Bourbon Street, he was met by a narrow alleyway that led to the street his hotel was on. He shuddered from a cold chill that went down his spin as he came to a complete stop.

The alley was lit brightly; there was nothing menacing about it. Though something didn't feel right and he couldn't put his finger on it, but it was as if a tiny voice in his said "don't be an idiot".

"Come on, D, don't be a puss." He muttered to himself as he shook his head and strutted down the alley.

A shattering of glass behind him caused him to jump and whirled around. One of the street lights had gone dark, but no one was there. The eerie feeling in his gut returned and without a another wasted second, he spun back around and sped up his walking. Three steps ahead, he was startled by another sound of shattered glass behind him. Dorian didn't bother stopping to turn around this time; he booked it towards the end of the alley. Before he reached the next street, the two lamp posts before him shattered, leaving him in complete darkness.

"What the f-" Dorian gasped, but was hurled backwards by a force he hadn't seen or heard.

He hit the wet ground with a thud and scrambled back to his feet.

"Whose there?" He shouted.

Nothing.

Silence.

"I said whose there?" He shouted. This time louder.

For a second, he thought he'd imagined it; the shadows-without a host-that danced against the wall from the corner of his eye. His face moved slowly to the wall and his face paled as he caught sight of the inky black tendrils of black moving against the brick wall. The spider-like shadows moved towards him slowly, but Dorian quickly broke out of his shock and darted in the direction of the end of the street.

There was no way he'd seen what he'd thought he'd seen. If he could just make it to the end of the alley, where someone could see him, maybe he had a chance to get to safety. Whatever unknown, unseen force taunting him couldn't do him any actual harm. He'd just had to many drinks, he thought to himself.

Just as he was seconds from reaching the next street, all the lights of the entire block had suddenly went dark. Dorian skidded to a stop once he reached the center of the next street; the only thing emitting light was the brilliant crescent moon.

"Dorian." A voice in the wind, so low-almost inaudible-whispered our behind him.

Dorian's entire body went rigid as the fear set in. He slowly turned to the ghostly voice that spoke behind him and his eyes widened. All the color drained from his face as Dorian let out a terror-filled scream that echoed off the walls of buildings surrounding him.