Page 1 of Relic

ONE

My lungs burn from exertion, my heart pounding in my chest, as I run down Royal Street, dodging into an alley in hopes of losing the heavy footsteps behind me. I thought it was a coincidence until I realized everywhere I turned, so did he. It’s just like me to end up murdered on my first night in New Orleans.

The alley is dark and eerily silent, leading to a dead end. Perfect. My stomach turns from the stench of old urine and vomit pooling in puddles from the rain earlier. Staring at a brick wall and very much panicking, I refuse to turn around and face my attacker. No point in making eye contact since I’m pretty sure I won’t be filing a police report later. My eye catches a beat up door to my left that I rush to, twisting the doorknob only to find it locked.

Bile rises in my throat. I don’t want to die. It’s why I ran to New Orleans in the first place. Out of options, I do the only thing I can do. I turn around, bracing myself to see the person after me. What greets me is not what I was expecting at all. The man…? I guess the person is a man. He’s unusually tall with stark white hair, glowing red eyes, and a snarl of teeth bared at me. His skin is a strange dull gray color as if he’s in a black and white movie while the rest of the world is in color. He slows his approach, grinning as he realizes I have nowhere else to run.

“I don’t have any money.”

“I am not interested in money,” the man says in an off kilter cadence. His accent is creole, but raspy and rough, like his throat is too dry. He lifts his hand to show me long talon-like nails. “I want your blood.”

“Are you here because of Linx?”

“I have no idea who Linx is. I am here on my own accord.”

“Why-why me then?”

“Why not you?”

Backing up, I try to measure how fast I would have to run to get past him, when I bump into something large and unmoving. A hand moves to the top of my head, pushing me to my knees without a word. Fuck, there’s two of them.

Before I can react further, a flash of silver streaks across the dark space, slicing into the man’s neck in front of me. He clutches his throat, gurgling blood with wide eyes before slumping to the ground.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The man behind me steps toward the dead body, glancing over his shoulder. “Are you harmed? Did he bite you?”

Bite me? “N-no.”

“Good.” He pulls a vial from his coat pocket, untwisting the top and pouring it into the dead man’s mouth.

I watch in shock as the body shrivels up and turns to dust before my eyes.

“How did…?” I rub my forehead. “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Are you a tourist?” the man asks, calmly. Too calmly.

“No. I just moved here.”

“Where do you live?”

“Not telling you.”

The man’s face hardens. “You will tell me. Do it now.”

A wave of dizziness hits me and I sway from the effect. I have no idea why or how but despite not wanting to, the words slip from my lips easily. “I have a place on Royal.”

“I’ll escort you.”

“No, thanks. You just murdered someone who was apparently about to murder me. I don’t need you knowing where I live.”

Standing, the man smiles, which is oddly comforting, sliding the knife into a holster attached to his hip. “I assure you, you are safer with me than on your own. Should one of his…friends find you, you’ll be happy I’m there.”

My eyes shift around the space. I guess he did save me. The logic makes sense. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

I follow him out of the alley on shaky legs, actually seeing him as we pass under a streetlight. He is also tall, towering over me by at least six inches, but that’s not hard since I’m barely five seven. His black hair is wavy and styled neatly, streaked with bits of gray. A lock has fallen out of place and lies on his forehead. He has a beard, also streaked with silver, cut close to his face. I notice that his eyes are a vivid blue as they catch the lamplight, and even though the weather is mild tonight, he’s wearing a knee length red coat, black pants tucked into combat boots and a black shirt. He’s attractive, but also intimidating.

“How did you know to come to that alley just now?” I ask.

“Instinct,” he answers, which makes no sense to me at all. “Why are you out here alone at two in the morning?”

“I was hungry. I heard the city was always open so I went out. I was so caught up in everything, I must have wandered away from Bourbon Street. That’s when I figured out I was being followed, and I took off running.”

“Ah. Word to the wise, stay in the populated areas.”

“I will. Trust me.”

The unusual man escorts me to my destination in silence, my mind reeling from what happened too much to notice the city around me. I want to ask a million questions, but something tells me I’d be better off staying quiet.

“My place is over there. I can go from here.”

The man nods. “It would do you well to keep what you saw tonight to yourself.”

“Who would believe me?” I shrug. “Besides, I don’t have any friends or anything.”

“You are here alone?”

“Yeah.” Probably shouldn’t have told a murderer that. “But don’t think of breaking in. I have a bat and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“A bat? Why do you have a desmodontinae in your home? They much prefer their wild freedom.”

“A what now?”

“A small flying animal.”

I wrinkle my brow. “A baseball bat.”

“Ah. I am truly terrified,” he says without any inflection whatsoever. “Why New Orleans?”

“I heard it’s a cool place for artists. It’s gotta be better than Alabama.”

“It is a nice place, and despite what you saw tonight, it’s usually quite safe. We have had a recent uptick in problems, but we’re getting it under control again.”

“Are you the police?”

He scoffs. “No.”

“Mafia?”

His eyebrow rises. “Not even close.” The man steps closer, causing me to crane my neck back to see him. “Do not concern yourself with who I am, but if you see me again, know there is trouble. Take precautions.”

Swallowing hard, I nod. “Oh-okay. Thanks, I guess. For saving me.”

The man bows his head slightly. “It’s my duty.”

He gestures for me to go, waving his hand toward the street, so I do, hurrying away from the strange man. When I look back, he’s still standing on the corner, watching me. It should be unnerving, but it feels kind of nice. After nearly being killed tonight, I’ll take his odd attention instead.

I slip inside my rented room, locking the door behind me before trudging up the stairs to the living space. It isn’t huge but it’s in a good location and I could afford it while I try to make a name for myself in The Big Easy. Since I had to get away fast, it’s not like I had time to save up a lot of money. The sooner I got away from Linx, the better.

As soon as I strip my clothes off, my adrenaline crashes and I slide to the floor, burying my face in my hands, my body trembling from the trauma I endured. The whole reason I left Alabama was to get away from murderers, but tonight, I was minutes from death anyway. The worst part is no one would even know I was missing. No one would look for me. No one would care. I’d be a random dead body found in a street. A John Doe in the morgue. Thank fuck for the mysterious murderer who showed up. I blow out a breath. This city is going to keep me on my toes. That much is certain.

After a few minutes, I pull myself up to get a beer from my small fridge. Glancing out the window, I gasp when I see the man who saved me still standing on my corner. I flip the light on, and in a blink he’s gone. Was I imagining him there? He couldn’t walk away that fast, could he? Though the man following me tonight sure kept up no matter how fast I ran.

Shaking my head, I empty the beer in three long gulps, hoping the alcohol kicks in quickly. After tossing the bottle, I climb in bed, rolling myself in a blanket burrito and praying to whatever god is listening to pull me into sleep. I need to forget this night.

Please let me forget.