The New Orleans air was crisp with the scent of rain of the day. The streets were mostly empty at the late hour that it was, save for an old looking building in a relatively empty part of town. There, twinkling lights hung from the balconies and through the windows, soft yellow light glowed.
"Are you sure we should even be going Morgan?"
In the interior of a black SUV, a petite girl sat with a taller, red headed woman. The woman, Morgan, looked over at the girl with a maternal glint in her eye.
"Lyris, don't be silly. This is just another grand ball for the Council to show off for the Ozu family. Nothing bad will happen tonight, I promise," she promised. Lyris nodded and perked up as the car pulled up the entrance. Morgan thanked the driver and got out, assisted by an elegantly dressed man, followed by Lyris. Morgan was a woman of regal looks. Her red hair was long, and wavy, which she wore mostly pinned up in beautifully braids and buns. Tonight it was down her back like a cape. Her ivory skin was wrapped in a midnight black evening gown, with a plunging neck line, curve hugging silk, and off the shoulder sleeves. It was a classic look for an impossibly beautiful woman.
Lyris felt completely inadequate next to her mother.
It was obvious the two looked nothing alike, perhaps save for the big, long hair they both had. But while Morgan's was red and wavy, Lyris's was curly and dark brown. Her skin was a warm tanned color, like rich caramel. She was shorter than Morgan, but not short. Her dress wasn't as sexy as Morgan's, and in fact, she thought she probably looked like a child playing dress up. It was a mint green color, with tulle puffy sleeves and a tight bodice. From her waist it flowed in an A-line shape and had a single leg slit. A red ribbon tied at the waist, and carefully stitched red, pink, and white flowers finished off the dress. Lyris liked it, but now standing next to her mother, felt small and innocent.
Morgan began making her way into the building, Lyris following closely behind like a puppy. Once they crossed the threshold, it was like a different building on the inside. It was brightly lit and music hummed all around. There was at least two hundred people there, all in gaudy, ornate dresses. Lyris felt herself shrink even more.
"Don't look like that Lyris. You are possibly the most beautiful person here," Morgan chastised with a wink. Lyris gave her mother a small smile, feeling the reservation she held in her compliment. With her mother being the Consulate, there always came attention. Everyone wanted to talk to Morgan, inquire about her daughter, the adopted one. It was no secret that Lyris had been taken in by Morgan as a baby. Everyone knew about "The Cleansing" all those years ago.
Morgan had her back turned, talking to a pair of regal looking witches, who Lyris had guessed to be part of the Ivenenko family, due to their heavy accents. She decided to go grab something to drink, making her way across the hall and towards the bar. As she walked, there were whispers and she felt her spine stiffen. Were they talking about her? She folded her hands in front of her and continued to walk, passing by a couple, who gave a cursory glance in her direction. Lyris continued, keeping her eyes forward until she found an empty seat at the bar. She pulled her dress so that it was not in the way of anybody and looked up to meet the eyes of the bartender who eyed her suspiciously.
"Would you like my I.D," she asked sarcastically. The bartender shrugged and shook his head.
"I'll take whiskey on the rocks."
--
The music inside the hall picked up and droves of people made their way to the dancefloor, layers of colors floating in the air like bird wings as men swooped ladies in their arms, spinning them in circles, moving in time to the rhythm of the beat. Lyris lingered at the edge of the giant dance circle that slowly grew in size as couples joined the romp. Lyris gentle chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking to herself how embarrassing it would be to attempt the dance herself. She rarely went to these kinds of things in the first place.
As she fell into her thought, she was roughly bumped into the circle, immediately being swept up in the dizzying array of people. She narrowly avoided two couples who darted in her directions, hands clasped in one another. Someone tried to grasp her hand, but she pulled away, trying to find a way out. The crowd was dense at this point, laughter and smiling faces filling her vision. Her chest began to feel heavy with the anxiety of being around so many people.She was jostled left and right, her arms desperately flaying to steady herself. The laughter seemed to grow the longer she was moved around. Were they laughing at her?
She turned to try again to find a way out, only to be met by someone's chest. It was solid, like stone. An arm wrapped around her waist gingerly and she wanted to pull away instinctively, but didn't. Another hand grasped her hand, the fingers were cool to the touch and honestly refreshing on her heated skin. She looked up to see who her pseudo-savior was and found a pair of almond shaped, gold colored eyes.
"You're safe now," the man said, his voice rich. Lyris stood still, speechless for a moment as the man lifted a black eyebrow at her. "You're not deaf are you?"
"No," Lyris managed to say, swallowing as the man gently swayed her, the others around them, taking a few steps away to allow them room. She tried her best not to stare, but couldn't help notice how handsome he was. His hair raven black, and long, kissing his neck easily. His lips were full, slightly parted as he breathed. He wore an immaculate tuxedo made of emerald velvet that was soft to the touch. Around his neck was a gold chain, barely peeking from his collar.
"Is there something on my face," he asked, causing Lyris to blush.
"No, I just...sorry," she apologized, looking down.
"No need. Is this your first time seeing one?"
"One what?"
"A vampire."
Lyris gave him a look, her face softening into realization. Oh. A vampire. That explained his inhumanely good looking face.
"I have...just not this closely."
He smiled at this and she felt her heart patter in her chest.
"How is it so far?"
"I can't say I'm not impressed."
"And what about afraid?"
Lyris paused briefly thinking of an answer. Vampires were powerful beings, having derived from witch blood in the first place and having since evolved into formidable foes. They were creatures of the night, lusters of blood and chaos. She was supposed to be afraid. At a moment's notice he could drain her blood without batting an eye. She looked back up at the man, who waited patiently for her answer.
"No… should I be," she answered in a breathy tone. The man swallowed and his hand moved toward her face, brushing back a loose curl.
"No, you shouldn't," he replied slowly. His hand lingered by her ear and she felt the hairs on her neck prickle. "I'm-"
"Lyris!"
Morgan's voice was clear and cut through the crowd like a knife. The man reluctantly let go of her, taking a tentative step backwards as Lyris turned in the direction of her mother's voice.She turned to face the man again, giving him an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," she began, gathering the skirt of her dress as she did so. The man grasped her hand, and brought it to his lips, giving the top of her hand a peck.
"Don't be. I'll see you around."
Lyris gave him a last smile, before she turned and moved her way through the crowd. Once she was out, she craned her neck around, searching for Morgan.
"There you are! I've been looking for you. One of the vampire Consulates would like to meet you," she chattered as she led Lyris away to a group of serious looking men.
--
The man stood, watching the girl be whisked away by a red headed witch, his eyes steady as he followed her.
"Prince Dai?"
The man turned to face a tall woman of muscle and fierce looks. Her hair was white as snow and she had icy blue eyes.
"Sabra, do you know who that was," Dai asked, his eyes still following Lyris. Sabra made a face and looked over at the prince.
"She is no one of importance," Sabra answered matter of factly. Dai made a grunt at this and turned away, Sabra at his back.