The Garden District lay quiet, an unusual silence mixed with the steady rain. The bells of the cathedral could be heard in the distance. Marcel placed a vinyl on the turntable, the sound clicked and popped as the music began to play.

“There’s a crack in the mirror/ And a bloodstain on the bed/ Oh, you were a vampire/ And
baby, I’m the walking dead got the ways and means/ To New Orleans/ I’m going down by the river/Where it’s warm and green/ I’m gonna have a drink and walk around/I got a lot to think about/Oh, yeah”

Marcel’s brother, Jereaux, tapped his cane against his foot, “The primogen will not be happy with this new development.” Jereaux looked over the circular glasses that hid his red rimmed emotional eyes. “Until the threat is subdued, we can not be safe.” Marcel gripped the wrought iron balcony rail, crushing it in his hand, “The Methuselah who hunts the Tzimiszce, its prey must have returned… the wolves of the bayou crescent must be told”

“There’s a rocking chair by the window/Down the hall/I hear something there in the shadow/ Oh, you were a vampire/And now I am nothing at all/I got the ways and means/ To New Orleans/ I’m going down by the river/Where it’s warm and green/ I’m gonna have a drink and walk around/I got a lot to think about/Oh, yeah”

Marcel tossed the crushed iron over the ledge, stepping away while brushing his hands off. “They are well aware, brother…” he paused a moment, “No, tonight we will greet the neonates and welcome them into our fold. The threat will wait…”

They used to dance in the garden/In the middle of the night/Oh, you were a vampire/And I may never see the light

Under a Bloody Crescent Moon