“There is nothing here but swamp and small, sad excuses for plantations!” Hanna complained as she treaded with careful and overly-dramatized steps. “Why are we going to call this place home? We should go back across the ocean.”
Rosanna put her arm around her younger sister’s neck and pulled Hanna close to her side. “Because, sister, we are going to make this place fantastic. We will make a city that sparkles. We are going to make this place ours!” The two sisters stopped and stood beside their brothers. “Welcome home.”
It took several long years to get New Orleans running, A few hurricanes and wars put a hold on the building of the city, even destroyed parts of the city, but the Nelsons made New Orleans their home. The liveliness of the city streets helped hide the vampires from suspicion, and the occasional missing bodies could never be confirmed. Rosanna’s brother Benjamin ruled the town with an iron fist that kept him and his siblings on top. Werewolves were banished to their swamp lands, and witches to their graveyards. Truly, it was perfect, and from a while the family was happy.
That was, of course, until they had to leave their beloved home a hundred years after they built it. Forced to run away from the only place the siblings had called homes since they had become vampires. And now, nearly a hundred years later Rosanna was looking upon the streets of the city she had helped build. The streets were nearly so crowded she could hardly move, there was the sound of laughter, bargaining, and conversations floating around her. It felt good to be home.
White sheets were pulled off the furniture filling the air with dust and revealing the elegant furniture underneath. From the kitchen, to the living room, to the bedrooms, everything was being uncovered and cleaned off. Hanna came to stand by her sister in the court yard, watching the hired hands clean out their home.
“There was a time when I did not think this place could be home, but now it feels so good to be back.” Hanna said with a smile. Rosanna smiled at Hanna and poured them both a glass of whiskey from a nearby table.
“Here is to being home!” She said handing a glass to Hanna.
Charlie crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, trying to balance it on two legs. In front of him Markus, the pack Alpha, paced the length of the cabin living room. It was no surprise the Charlie had caused his father to disapprove of his actions. Again.
“You will be alpha, Charlie.”
“Nope.” Charlie shook his head. “I do not want to be the Alpha.”
“It is your birth right!” Markus yelled.
“Great! So because I had the unfortunate fate to be born as your son, then I have to become the leader of this sorry group of animals?!” Charlie snapped back.
“You are a part of this ‘sorry group of animals’! Or have you forgotten where you have come from?” Markus took a step towards his son, his eyes turning yellow.
“How could I forget? You remind me every time you drag me back here!” Charlie stood up, knocking his chair out of the way.
“Charlie, I am getting old.” Markus ran a hand over his face and turned away from his son. “I will not have the strength to fight the next male who decides he wants to run our pack.”
“Then find another person to be your alpha, Dad. I don’t want a life living in shame in the Bayou.”
“There is no one else, son. Everyone else will ruin the pack.” Markus shoved his fist into the wall, leaving a hole clear to the other room. “You are strong enough to beat me and take the leadership.”
“I don’t want it.” Charlie walked out the front door, making a point to slam it behind him. Everyone outside took notice as the son of their Alpha stormed through their little village. A young girl ran up to Charlie and hugged his leg.
“Charlie, don’t go!” Lilly, his seven year old sister cried. Charlie bent down and kissed the top of her dark hair before pushing her off his leg.
“Take care of dad, kid.” He said ruffling her hair.
“Charlie!” Markus called from the porch. Charlie didn’t look back as he disappeared into the woods around their encampment. The last thing he heard before he took off running was his little sister crying out his name.
Charlie walked through the streets of New Orleans about the time dusk was setting, a half drank bottle of beer dangling from his left hand. He pushed open the door to a witchcraft store and stepped into the messy and slightly disorganized shop. He ran his free hand over bottles, voo-doo dolls, and other trinkets as he made his way deeper into the shop.
