The world was in agony from the moment a few events changed everything we knew completely. Our safety insurance became their ally and gave us a death sentence like we never saw before. The witches took Davina to their advantage and the peace arrangement between the breeds broke. We are about to declare war against them.

Even so, somehow, they're working on a plan to defeat us, but, deep down, they think we don’t know that they technically are using ourselves against us. They, our enemies, once tried it with the Augustine vampires – vampire rippers, they were, a virus made to affect vampires and make them kill each other, feeding of rotten blood who once pumped through vampires’ veins – and now, a blood feast is about to bloom.

Three vengeful entities have thirst of revenge and, Davina taken down and forced to do the important spell, would only have to sacrifice one sample of each breed to keep on going with the ritual. Those who'd drink the red-bound on that bowl would become the supreme leaders of this new era. It was 2020 when the world fell apart.

New Orleans’ French Quarter, 26th May, 2013

Narrator’s View

Red, fresh puddles over the woodened and fiberglass based table poured small amounts of blood down to the bohemian carpet, creating a spreading burgundy stain, dripping blood joining the absorbed puddle on the cream ivory carpet. A French Canadian-Korean girl came up to find that scenery. Her mother was out to work and so was her dad so she was the first to realize the crime scene state her house was left at.

The teen approached a headless corpse hidden by the table, to then notice the head was what made the table and carpet bloody, staring right at her with her blue iris outstanding from her Asian features, like it was still attached to the body, a burning fiery glance with spread wide-open eyes. It was her sister, bitten neck, ripped off head. She couldn't scream, she was too horrified to even do that. Instead, tears came down her face, fiery, burning. A weak voice sounded in between the walls, wandering what happened in there. The window was wide open.

“No... no, no... this can't be... Marie-Claire, you're not dead! Unnie...” With that, her eyes soaked in tears, and she yelled all the way out, trying to dial a number as she called the elevator. "Umma... papa... answer me! Unnie is..." She couldn't finish the phrase, as she was too shocked to do it and instead just ended up crying as she curled in a ball in that elevator. As soon as she got out, there she was, in the middle of the cold street in New Orleans. She was there by herself, whimpering and knocking on doors all over the French Quarter. “Someone help me...”

Davina bit her lower lip and ran through the garden, calling the Asian girl over. “Hey... come here... what happened? It's dangerous at night outside...”

The watery eyes blinked and gazed over at the other's. “My... sister Marie... Claire… s-she... is... s-someone... killed her...”

“Oh god... I'm sorry to hear that…” Davina replied, sadness reflected on her greenish blue eyes. “Look... come on in, I'll make you some tea... it will calm you down so you can call the police calmly… I’m sure they’ll find the one to blame… Now, come in. You can’t be outside in the night like that, it will be dangerous for you too, especially if the killer is still out there…”

The girl cleaned off her tears and whimpered, to then nod slowly. “I can't... contact my parents...” She sniffled. “I should call them in first place…”

“We will find a way to do it.” Davina nodded reassuringly, offering a tiny smile and opened her door to the older girl. “Strangely enough, I live alone. So you won't bother anyone. You can             stay until your parents arrive home.”

“You live alone?” The Canadian-Korean asked, wondering why, as she wiped off her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.

Davina nodded. “I have a legal protector, this house isn't mine but theirs so, I live here on my own. About them, it's not like they care. They never come home. I am... isolated from others. That's why we are neighbors and you didn't know me, probably. They think I’m an outcast, I only leave home to go to school because they don’t want me roaming around.”

The other girl nodded. “Hmm... I guess... aren't you too young? I mean… you seem younger than me… Not like I’m judging you or anything but… we’re both minors…”

"Fifteen, yes. It's a young age but it is better this way. I can handle myself either way, better not expect for things that won’t come. You?" Davina said with a straight up face.

"I'm turning seventeen." The Asian-American replied, slowly nodding, getting inside of a small living room, to get a nod from the blue eyed, allowing her to sit. “By the way, I’m Michèle-Sophie. My mother calls me Mihee, it’s Korean. She is Korean, my father is from Ottawa.”

“Well, that’s good to know, Michèle. I’m Davina. Davina Claire. And, I’m glad you’re calmer now, being sad won’t do you any good. It’ll just make things worse.”

Michèle looked down at her hands, rubbing them together. “My sister… her name was Marie-Claire. She… I have to… take revenge on her behalf… whoever did this… they’ve got to pay for it all.” She then started sniffing once more, trying to act tough.”

Davina sat next to her on the couch and held out her shoulder. “It’s alright to cry… take it all out. I will call the police on your behalf and as soon as you’re calmer, you can speak to them… did you check for her pulse or something?”

Michèle shook her head. “Her… h-head… was ripped off. They… placed it over the table… like a trophy… She lost a lot of blood but her hair was pulled and she had fingernails, like, they ripped her flesh with their mouths… I know this will sound weird, but, there’s no way they would have run away unless they had a ladder, because the window was open, and, there were no struggle marks except for the dragging trails…”

“Vampires…” Davina mumbled to herself, shutting by pursing her lips afterwards. “I don’t know… I mean, it must have been professional murderers… Did you see anyone lurking around the house? It has happened before in New Orleans. Sometimes wolfs and other wild creatures attack people, even unexpectedly… or crimes are committed…”

“No way… you’re hiding something in here! I need to call my parents and the police!” The so-called Michèle held out her phone shakily, trying to dial a number, to then get a reassuringly touch from the young witch apprentice.

“Listen to me. I can’t tell you what’s happening, I cannot know what happened, but, you need to know that you can trust me, I lived here since I was born and there is a lot of danger out there. You might have moved not so long ago, it sounds like it, but, take me to account, will you? I know people who were murdered like that before, I saw on TV, newspapers, and even close people to my school friends or teachers. You have to be strong and be careful…” Davina nodded. “Stay here while you talk to the police and your parents, I will make you some tea to make you stay calmer, it will help.”

Frenchmen Street, New Orleans’ Apple Barrel Bar, 27th May, 2020

Narrator’s View

“Mihee? Are you okay?” Skye-Janiya asked out loud, her Vietnamese accent showing off once in a while. Janiya has been Michèle’s friend since high school and, honestly, all she had. She wasn’t from the French Quarter like Michèle because she actually was half Vietnamese, half American, like it happened at times in there, due to the heavy multiculturalism lived there. But she was actually one in a million to Michèle-Sophie. She was a friend to respect and praise.

‘Mihee’ looked towards the tanner girl and shook her head, smiling gently. “Oh, no, hmm… I’m good. Just thinking, it has been seven years since my sister passed away. I’ve been pretty much on my own ever since. My sister dying, my mother was admitted into a psychiatric hospital and took her own life there… it has been a mess… my dad kept me strong through all this, I don’t know how he did but, I’m glad he did. I just, I miss them...” She then lowered her head, sighing lowly, her sigh being muffled by the sound of a jazz song coming from the bar they were at, three full cups decorating the table, colored by neon in shades of vivid red and green.

“We know what you’ve been through… and it’s alright for you to have that in your head. It has been the anniversary around this time, right?” Another friend of hers, Korean emigrant named Song Nahye, took a Mojito glass of her own, drinking it all at once.

“Yesterday, more exactly.” Michèle looked at her empty glass of rum, drinking it fully. “Hey, cutie boy there, bring us some more drinks! Rum for me, what do you girls want?”

Ayana, an African-American friend of theirs, frowned and looked at Michèle, blinking a few times. “Take it easy, girl. Enough drinks, choose something less heavy than rum, it’s the worse poison you can have, plus, you got one already. Hey, pretty boy there, bring us a bottle of tonic water instead and come take a seat. This girl here could use some decent talk.”

“Sure, miss. Let me just bring the bottle. And, no long chit chats, I don’t plan on getting fired on my second day.” The boy with lifted up fringe smiled gently as he brought a bottle to the four girls, taking a sit for a while.

“Any depressive life stories to share? We’re trying to make a toast here.” Nahye replied to the Asian boy – visibly younger than them.

“Ah, no, I don’t drink.” He chuckled embarrassed, rubbing his neck. “Next year perhaps.”

Michèle frowned and leaned over the table. “Part-time job, saving for college, is it? Or, some need of getting your own money and getting rid of being right behind parent’s wings?”

“More like the second one. Money isn’t a problem yet, I guess. But I could use some story, yeah. Just, no toast for me.” He chuckled, looking over at the three Asian women. “Perhaps you’re all three Asians? Sorry to leave you aside, miss, but. Guess I’m not the only one here after all, it’s rare spotting Asians on the French Quarter, it’s not like I come here a lot myself.” He stated. “Sangwon’s the name by the way. Call me if you need anything.”

Nahye smirked playfully. “Korean, huh? That makes three of us. The name’s Nahye, she’s Mihee but officially Michèle-Sophie since she’s half Canadian, Ottawa zone, you know, then the blackie-hottie is Ayana and the Vietnamese-American weirdo is Skye-Janiya. It’s actually nice meeting you, Sangwon, you’re in between the noonas now, we won’t do you any harm, maybe some tip but yeah, that’s good.”

“Take it easy with the noonas, I am not a noona, I don’t speak Korean at all.” Ayana laughed a little, stealing Michèle-Sophie’s recently served tonic water.

Skye-Janiya laughed and bumped Ayana’s shoulder. “Girl, I’m not Korean either. But noona seems pretty hot, must say. Just let them say noona, it’s not like it’ll kill you. You have three Koreans and a Vietnamese, we over-number you so better submit yourself to this.”

Michèle laughed and Nahye whined lowly, leading her index to her lips. “Shush, we’re making this young man embarrassed, not like I’d like to scare him off, he’s too young to be seduced by any noona talk, cut the crap.” She chuckled. “We’re just fooling around, Sangwon, don’t take us too seriously.”

He laughed a tad cheekily, a little embarrassed with the four slightly heat up women. “Oh really? Wow, I don’t find any Koreans for ages, except for my family, but, it’s my family. Hmm, you might have heard though, my story’s about it. You know the Korean embassy, right? The ambassador is my uncle. His older son, Kim Hanbyeol, tried to commit suicide early this year, and we almost weren’t able to stop him, if it wasn’t his brother Taemin…”

Washington Avenue, Central City, New Orleans, 31st December, 2019

Eun Sangwon’s View

I sure know that this isn’t the easiest to take but, Kim Hanbyeol tried to take his own life, jumping off of my uncle’s, his dad’s house and penthouse building. Always travelling around to take care of his paperwork at the Embassy, he was barely home for my cousins, Hanbyeol and Taemin, respectively 20 and 17 by then. Even on Christmas or New Year’s Eve. And, when he was, Taemin was always the perfect son and Hanbyeol was they gay-looking, childish, scaredy-cat son. Never the older, never praised, never respected enough to his eyes. He was just that outcast, or it seemed like it to me. Umma Kim was busy with her job too, being the headmaster of the Asian Studies, right next to Tulane University, and it was really harsh, especially because New Orleans is either French Quarter or plain American people, or Arabian, since there’s a neighborhood for those too. But there are barely no Asians at all or pretty much close to that.

Feeling empty inside, it was how Hanbyeol actually felt, since he barely was with his dad or even with any other members of his family. Living abroad on Korea, it was his big sister, who was old enough to have her own freedom. But, because he intended to keep on studying on New Orleans, he never dared to leave the country, unless it was for visiting. Also, he didn’t want to be apart from his little brother nor me and our family. These two – Taemin and I – were all he had from his point of view.

That made Hanbyeol hyung become easily depressed, wondering why he was treated like he was some sort of trash by his father. He always felt like that because whenever he was at home, even I would get more attention than he ever did, I could notice how happy his father was whenever I joined them for a meal on winter or my parents came along – my dad was their mom’s brother – and then my father would ask about his ambitions. And, Hanbyeol didn’t want to follow his father’s legacy either, by getting some job like working on the Embassy, considering that he felt American after all, even if he spoke both English and Korean quite fluently. With an accent – we all have accents after all, the differences make it hard to speak and pronounce some things – but still fluently.

One night, he got tired. He wondered what was wrong, why he always felt so lonely. Maybe his family was right on calling him a scared , he kept on telling us. He not only was lonely because his family wasn’t there but he was also lonely because no one besides family was there for him either. Except for me and, specially, Taemin-ah. Even his sister, my cousin, stopped speaking to them as soon as she got married. Well, she spoke to the parents and Taemin. Never him. She didn’t speak to me either but we were never close due to the . Even so, why didn’t she think of Hanbyeol? He was a great person, always wanting to help others and ignoring his own problems. In fact it helped forget those and made him feel useful.

He just thought nobody would really miss him, ever. The people would just push him away or let him fade as soon as he was just a ghost. If he just kept being there, they would just never see him, never notice he was invisible. So, what was the difference, actually?

The skinny Hanbyeol was different. No muscles, no girls, no truthful smiles. All he had was his brother but even Taemin would eventually forget. So, his point was, ‘what if they realize how bad they make me feel, will they notice me?’

And because of that, he tried to jump off that penthouse’s roof, becoming a firework in that New Year Eve’s night sky. A red puddle spreading all over the place, maybe get hit by a car on his way down and end up his misery or smack his own skull, that’d lead him to his death. Instant, he prayed. People would finally notice how mean they were.

That was the doodled plan of his. But he forgot he wasn’t the only one there.

Hanbyeol sat on the fence and looked down to his death. He gulped until he heard a fading sound. Taemin was crawling upstairs, he probably found the door unlocked. Alongside there was me, who could hear his breathing from the windowpane wide open where we popped of right behind him, and I sensed us both were looking with a worried disapproval look towards Hanbyeol. He couldn’t do what he had in mind. We needed him.

“No! NO YOU WON’T DO WHAT WE THINK YOU WANT TO DO!” Taemin with that started tearing up – he didn’t want to cry like a baby but he just couldn’t handle it if his hyung jumped off. I then realized – me, the younger one - actually seemed tougher than Taemin himself. I guess I wasn’t as close to him so I didn’t have much urge to cry, even if I had it. I just didn’t want to seem weak. Taemin always was easier to bring tears up to his eyes than me. “Get up…”

Hanbyeol hid his face and allowed his tears to fall down his cheeks silently. “I have to take extreme measures for people to look at me and see I exist… what am I even doing here?”

“What about when we need you? I am what I became thanks to you, hyung. I’m sure Sangwon can relate to this. Quit it. There are people who need you. Umma needs you when you bring her coffee in the end of the season and sit by her side watching her take care of the papers. Dad needs you to help him find all the luggage he brings when he’s back from the Embassy. I need you to be my support and help me with homework. We all need you and we should show it more often, it’s true. We’ll work more on it.” Taemin’s eyes were purely soaked.

My lips tried to part and stop him but I had no guts to speak. My throat was just like my hands took my guts and ripped them off of me. My hands were bloody. Sometimes I found Hanbyeol a little too childish on his reactions. He was a scaredy-cat but he was able to actually have balls to crawl until the rooftop, glass made like in a greenhouse, and look down, from those tall 10 floors and try to go jump. Start of a new life for him, indeed. Buried under a smacked coffin that would break with the soil’s pressure over it and smash the corpse entirely – bones, dark, rotten skin – helping its end or either becoming ashes in a funerary vase or on the depths of Mississippi or any surrounding lakes. I finally gained courage to speak, after those thoughts that scared me to death, imagining a corpse fallen on the floor, a car that was hit by it, a broken blood stained and shattered car glass and actioned airbags would probably scare the hell out of the driver as the corpse slowly slid to the floor, leaving a trail of death absorbed by the blood dripping out of his broken skull. I shook my head, horrified, and opened my mouth. “I can’t imagine what the consequences of this will be. I can’t let myself know. Let’s just go back inside, hyung…” My eyes had tears falling down. Burning tears made wounds pry open my cheeks. I feared his death so much now what my head was freaking out and it felt like my own. I regretted all the crap I ever said to him in that moment and he was surprised – and so was Taemin – that I was crying in that moment. I felt emotional in that moment and guilt hit me. So I ran to Hanbyeol and pulled him up to then wipe my eyes and drag him back. “You can’t do that to yourself, it’s not worth it. I myself wasn’t a good example and I’m sorry I was a bad dongsaeng at times, hyung. You can’t die. Not today, not because of this.” I couldn’t keep myself from having a shivering chin. I was a teen, I was sixteen, always protected from the world. I wasn’t prepared to let go of my cousin. I then understood we all needed to change and help him.

New Orleans’ French Quarter, 19th May, 2020

Davina’s View

I was exiting my house in the morning. The climbing roses nearby my front wall were adorned with shining dew that made me smile shortly. It was beautiful and it really cheered me up whenever I looked at my roses. I closed my eyes inspiring the delicious scent from the flowers as I opened up my gate, exited and closed it like I do normally. Putting on some dark shades, I faded my red luminous lipstick and started roaming through the street until the greenhouse I often took care of plants on. It has been a while since I’ve been there. It brings bad memories too but they’re mostly good, especially because I saw Tim there once. I didn’t cast a spell, but I guess he came to me because the spells never worked. They said he maybe didn’t want me to see him so I couldn’t track him, but I was delighted when I saw him, even if it was in a dream only. I think he got into my dream just to calm my prayers.

And I was happy to see him that day. I kept his violin nearby my scarlet roses. Those mean eternal love. I blush a little when I think about him and realize I put them there. Maybe just distraction but I didn’t mind keeping it there. Roses are my favorite flowers so whenever I looked at the violin I remembered on how he never gave me a rose on Valentines. I remembered him every time and placed a rose nearby the violin’s strings and stared at it, smiling softly. I truly miss Tim. I wonder why he died without me. We both drank that poison and that other witch saved my life, not his. They should have known he wasn’t just my best friend as I referred to him. He was all the joy I had back then. The witches wanted to kill me because I had in me the power of three other witches including mine, and they died and because of me they remained dead. They brought me back to life, the vampires, and, why not bring Tim back too?

I wish he was alive. Because of my witchcraftery he drank poisoned water and died. Someday I will cast a spell to bring him back. I had promised him that. I practice that, getting dry roses and seeds and making them bloom. The day I make a white rose bloom, I will be ready to cast the spell, I decided.

I was on my way to work, walking to the bus stop, with the ticket in my hand. The flaming sun made it hard to look up into the sky but I didn’t need to. As usual, I went and complimented those who I knew, mostly witches – they seemed to be all okay with me, except for a few more drastic group that didn’t like me going along with vampires, but some were my friends. Not the Originals, they needed to pay. But regular Vampires, turned by others of the same kind – sometimes even accidentally, due to massive blood lost and vampire blood on their systems. Sometimes vampire blood wasn’t enough to stop the wounds from bleeding. Some of my friends were compelled to drink too and their necks were broken. In fact, I find turning people into vampires a blessing for some but an atrocity to others.

Reaching the keys on my skinny jeans, I stood up on the bus and pressed the stop button as soon as I reached the nearer bus stop to my job at the greenhouse. Slowly coming down the steel stairs leading to the concrete floor, I made it inside of the store and turned around the sign saying it was closed to the opposite side, with a welcoming message.

“Time to get to work.” I smiled gently at the sight of the violin among my stuff and those flowers. There was a lot to be done, since a lot of flowers died during the time I wasn’t on the greenhouse. Tying up my brunette hair on a curled up ponytail, taking off the jacket and fixing my chiffon pleated frilled, body fitting, boat collar sleeveless top, I finally got to work, opening up some notes with some spells I wasn’t exactly remembered of and then turned backwards to the door, placing my hands around a rose and whispering a spell in French, mumbling as the rose bloomed. Once more, red rose. I sighed, but then steps echoed. A costumer, I supposed.

A pair of red stained with a shade of burgundy sneakers confined with black form fitting trousers appeared and a pair of blue eyes locked with mine, slightly hidden with those black-burgundy shaded irreplaceable curls, impossible to forget. I was left speechless with my lips parting. The roses were blooming by themselves. White roses. As the blue eyed guy approached me I blinked once but a wide smile just stubbornly appeared.

“Tim?” I was confused. I didn’t make any spell to call him. Perhaps I was ready to do the spell to bring him back? But then, why did he come from the door, entering the store? Why was he able to touch things? “I don’t understand… how can you be here?”

He looked into my eyes and approached me. He could touch me. He held the back of my head on his magical hands and his soft silk-like lips pecked my forehead. He is… alive? “I was brought back. I will have time to explain. Just, not now. I need to speak to you about something.”

“Tell me, who brought you back? You were dead all this time… why did you come back only now, Tim? Why did they bring you back now only?” I looked down. I didn’t know what intentions were implicit on him being brought back. “Who resurrect you? Did the witches bring you back? What do they want from you?” I was starting to panic. “I should have never allowed you to know where I was when they were after me, you would have been here…” My stubborn eyes ached like a flame was set on them. I felt like my eyes soon would produce tears.

“It’s not like that, Davina. It wasn’t your fault, I was the one that drank that poison. I was the one who fed you the poison as well. But, they fed me an antidote after I took it so the poison took effect temporarily. They wanted to scare you, I guess... Then I was turned into a vampire, because… well, I had blood on my system, so they just needed to snap my neck.” Timothy’s expressions were as clear as water but frozen at first. His lips were the only thing moving. But then I felt the warmth of his hands on mine. He was reassuring me he was fine, and I believed.

My head slowly moved and I nodded slowly, looking down to my feet. “Well… then why are you coming after five years? Why didn’t you come earlier?” I looked up into his eyes, tears about to destroy my posture.

“I couldn’t. They kept me locked in. It was the witches who set me free, but they told me they’ll protect me and give me freedom, whenever I want, if you make a spell. It is an important one, but they need a living witch to channel their power and to use as a source of blood. They want to create a weapon against vampires. I myself am protected by them and will be one of the elements of the spell. It needs ten elements. Nine people and an iron and silver forged bowl with three silver forged rings on it, with an important spell on. The witches led me to the spell, they wrote it down on this.” With that, Timothy handed me a paper sheet, and I stared at it, wondering what was the use of the nine people and the bowl with the rings.

I blinked at the paper. A slaughtering? “I won’t do it, Tim. I can’t kill innocent people…” I looked at the paper, shaking my head in denial. I couldn’t kill innocent people.

“You won’t kill them, you’ll need them alive. And even if they’re no longer useful, you’ll put a protection spell on them so they won’t die. You and me, we’ll be part of the slaughter too.” His eyes changed to deep cloudy, foggy, azure blue and I wasn’t able to tell his iris from his pupil nor the rest of his eye globe, like he had the eyes of a blurred windowpane on winter, with the shine of the look of a dead fish. He was possessed by someone, I could feel it wasn’t him. It was a witch, making him do it. I’m sure Tim wouldn’t have agreed with that. He touched the place where my sternum is at and placed his whole palm on it, right under my throat, not letting me go any further, pinning me against the greenhouses’ table where were the roses at. “You have to do it. It’s time for the vampires to sink and set us all free. I’m sorry to do this to you…”

I gulped and it was enough for my sight to go all black, my eyes rolled all the way in, and now were just like his now, yet his slowly faded back to normal, from what I remember.

I felt his warmth on my head again, holding it out. “I’m sorry, Davina, I’ll fix you when it’s over. I…” And I heard nothing more but an echo. “…love you…”