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12/02/2023 05:41 PM 

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler (Part 7)

Adrenaline pumped furiously through her veins, soft curves molded to growling iron as the speedometer surpassed 100 mph. The wind roared past her helmet, the pressure of it beating at her relentlessly.

She wove expertly between lanes, body tucked over the bike and knuckles locked around the handlebars in a death grip as she maneuvered around the Friday night traffic congesting the interstate, not out of fear for the ride she was on but rather the hatred burning low in her belly.

She was minutes away from the bar where she knew Wade and Farron would be, and she was hell-bent on making them pay. There was no doubt who had tried to kill her almost a month ago now, but she couldn't prove it, the cops couldn't touch them, and leaving them out of it made what she needed to that much easier. She'd decided to take matters into her own hands. She wasn't going to waste her time waiting around for them to try again. Rage bubbled just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over if she didn't tamp it down. She clenched her jaw tightly, teeth grinding.

The familiar weight of her .45 caliber revolver rested against her hip reassuringly, along with the knives she kept hidden among her clothes. Gearing down, gravel flew wildly beneath her spinning tires as she pulled into the parking lot and killed the ignition, practically leaping off the bike in her eagerness to put down a couple of dogs. Looking every inch of the rising starlet that she had been in Louisiana, she strode into the bar on stiletto-booted feet.

"Hey, sweet thing, come have a drink with me!" someone called out to her, and she turned a stony glare on the man, eyes narrowed dangerously. He took the hint and shut up. A sort of silence descended over the patrons as she passed. A vision of curves and passion, she made a beeline straight for the idiots that still had their backs turned to her. Her vision tunneled, eyes flashing a pale molten amber that lent her an ethereal air of lethality as she stalked towards Wade.

In one fluid motion she brought her left hand up, and the barrel of her gun was pressed against the back of his head, hammer cocked. A slow smile dripping with venom danced over her lips when she felt his spine go rigid and his brother Farron turned wide, glassy eyes to stare at her. He glanced back at his brother, gulping audibly when he saw the Beretta pressed into Wade's back.

"Bub, you ain't gon' believe this. F***in' Orleans." Wade jerked at hearing this revelation. "The f***?! She's --"

His words cut off as he turned to look at her from the corner of his eye, his face blanching to a ghostly white.

Leaning forward just a bit, her right hand dipped below the neckline of her black tank to withdraw a wicked looking blade from her cleavage. Her arm snaked out in the blink of an eye, pressing the tip against the base of Farron's throat while she purred at Wade. "Go on an say it, honey. She's dead." She flashed a warning glance at Farron. "Don't move a f***in' muscle."

The room was silent, everyone watching the scene play out. Wade's eyes were wide with fear and a growing rage. The sound of her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but her hands were steady.

Turning her attention back to Wade, the barrel of her gun landed sharply on the back of his skull just to make sure she still had his attention.

"Surprise, boys. Not dead. Here's what we're gonna do, ok? Y'all are gonna get up right now and walk through that door. You do anythin' other'n what I tell you, and that'll be the end of our little soiree," she kept her voice low enough that only those two could hear.

She could see the color rising up Wade's neck, and his turn to face her revealed his face, no longer pale with disbelief, but mottled red with fury. "What the f*** makes you think you can make us go anywhere with you, bitch?" A gentle clucking of her tongue and she practically cooed at him.

"Oh, sweety. That's real cute. This little macho act. Reality is, if you don't get your sorry ass up and march out that door right this second.. Well, I'll just blow your little brains all over that nice man's bar behind you. The both of you. Up."

Her smile turned saucy and coy, and she glanced around the bar briefly, noticing most had already gone back to their own drinks and conversations while others watched in avid interest. "Call my bluff, baby." She cooed at the brothers, eliciting a series of whistles and catcalls from nearby eavesdropping drinkers.

'Go on and get you suma dat boys!' One called out while another hollered. 'Damn, you boys got a wild one tonight.'

That was the beauty of a small town. She could get away with threatening to hurt them under the guise of a kinky one night stand. As a woman nobody in the bar took her seriously. Except for Farron and Wade. It was almost comical really, but Orleans was in anything but a laughing mood.

The brothers stood and reluctantly headed towards the door with Orleans holding them at gun and knifepoint. Just as they neared the exit Wade pivoted around, and a shot rang throughout the bar. The silence that followed was deafening, but brief. Seconds later the bar erupted in a burst of chaos and confusion.

Blowing in like a bat out of hell, a tall blonde woman came barreling into the bar. Her hair was wild and all over the place, and there was a feral look in her eye as she assessed the situation. She hissed when she saw the brothers, Wade lying on the floor clutching his side, pouring blood. Orleans watched in horrified fascination as fangs slipped from the woman's curled lip.

"They're mine," the blonde vampire informed Orly. "These two are vampire hunters," she said circling the men. Wade was lying on the floor clutching his side as blood poured out, Farron's face paled impossibly further. "The two of them have been tracking my family and killing us one by one." She crouched down in front of Wade before continuing on in low whisper, " You took my sister from me, and she never hurt a fly. You should have killed me first, now you're mine." She looked up at Orleans with icy fire in her blue eyes. "And they'll keep hunting us down until they've killed every last one of us. Desi refused to drink from humans. She said it wasn't right," The vampiress rose, the bar eerily silent except for the whimpering Wade was doing from the floor, "What they did to her wasn't right. She didn't deserve to be hacked into tiny pieces and burned alive."

No one breathed, not even the twitch of a muscle anywhere in the room. Death hung in the air like a heavy black cloud, sucking all of the oxygen from the room. Something passed over Orleans's face, a flicker of something dark in her expression just before she nodded at the other woman. Surprise registered along her features at seeing another vampire. She'd gone from never knowingly crossing paths with a vampire in her life to meeting two within as many weeks. Her fingers remained locked in Wade's hair, forcing his head down just before shoving Farron in front of the fanged female.

"I got a bone with these two, too, but you can have this one as long as I get Slick over here."

She said, cocking her head toward Farron who stood there with a dark stain spreading across the front of his jeans. Orleans snarled in disgust.

"Y'all are supposed to be big, bad vampire hunters. Bunch of glorified Buffy rejects seems more like it."

A cold gleam entered her now lightened eyes, and she whispered to the brothers.

"Tell Rene I said hey."

Without another word she raised her gun with a steady hand and pulled the trigger. A satisfying spray of Farron's brain and skull coated the door behind him. A piece of flesh had flown into Wade's gaping mouth and Orleans flashed a sweet smile at him.

"You got a little somethin' riighht..here."

She licked her thumb and wiped away at a spot on his cheek then turned a meaningful glance to the strange vampire and gave a small nod.

"He's all yours."

"I'll kill you for this," Wade threatened, still bleeding out on the floor from a gunshot wound in his side.

Orly rolled her eyes at him. "Honey, you got the wrong bitch."

She stood and tucked her gun back into the holster beneath her arm. "Now, if you'll excuse, I don't want to be here when the cops show up." She kicked Farron's lifeless body on her way out the door, just for good measure. She'd almost made it back to her bike when she heard footsteps behind her. Keeping her eyes forward, she wasn't going to make them think she was scared by turning to see who followed her. Besides, she could smell the coppery tang of blood reeking from the woman. Keeping her back turned to the vampire, not exactly the smartest move to make, she slid on leather gloves speaking to the woman over her shoulder. "I'm sorry about your sister. They got what they deserved, but they've got family around here. A lot of them."


"Why do you smell like that?" The woman asked, ignoring Orly's warning. She drew closer to Orleans, uncomfortably so when she turned around and their noses nearly touched. "What are you," she whispered, inhaling deeply along Orlean's throat. Orleans leaned back, trying to put some distance between her and the vampire, and shook her head.

"Look, lady. I don't know what you're talkin' about, but the cops are gonna be here soon and I've had a long week."

"That's a nice bike. Where are you headed? Don't worry about those people in there, I took care of them," she told Orly, filling her with dread.

"Wh.. What do you mean you took care of them? You didn't kill all those people did you?

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "No, dummy. I made them forget we were ever there."

Relief flooded Orleans. "Oh, thank God," she breathed with her hand fluttering over her heart.

"You didn't answer my question," the vampire said.

"What question?" Orleans looked at her confused.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't really see how that's any of your business."

"You don't have anywhere to go where they can't find you, right?"

"I'll be fine. I always am."

"Well if you change your mind, I know a place. They help people like us.. there."

"Us...? I am not a vampire," Orly looked at her like she was crazy. And maybe she was. Maybe they both were."

"I didn't say they only help vampires, dummy. You're different from humans. I'm different from humans. Us." She spoke slowly as if Orleans were stupid.

"How do you know I'm not human?"

"Because I'm standing here talking to you."

"So, why do you want to help me? I didn't even know vampires existed until a couple weeks ago."

"That's why. You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you even know what you are? They can help you while you figure things out."

Orly appeared to be thinking this over when the blonde vampiress sighed in exasperation. "Call me when you make up your mind. I've got somewhere to be," she snapped impatiently. "Sylar's going to bitch nonstop if I don't get there soon," she grumbled to herself. Orleans brow shot up. "Did you just say Sylar?" Rolling her eyes, the woman nodded. "Vampire Sylar?" Orleans asked incredulously.

"Yeah, why?"

"F*** that. I'll take my chances on my own," Orleans put on her helmet, and climbed onto her bike. The woman moved like a flash of lightning, and had Orleans phone in her hands before Orly could even blink. She punched something in, then handed the phone back to Orly, "Call me if you change your mind." Then she vanished. Stunned, Orleans blinked, looking around for any sign of where she'd gone before pulling out of the parking lot and heading back home to Amoureaux one last time.


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