tagErotic HorrorVampires' Victim Disappears

Vampires' Victim Disappears


A Tale of the Carter Brothers' Victims

From the writer: New Orleans tour guides, for a small fee, will gladly point out the residence of the city's famous vampires, the Carter brothers. This is the final chapter in my retelling of the legend. In order, my vampire stories are QB Murdered Cheerleader Missing, Lair of the Carter Brothers, Bruce's Last Night, Molly Meets the Baron, and Katie After the Prom. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.


Philippe Trufont disappeared from New Orleans. Five years later contractors repairing his residence found his diary and turned it over to the police. After a long investigation six missing person cases were reclassified as homicides.

Trufont's step brothers petitioned the courts to have him declared dead and close the succession on his estate. While the court did allow the family to transfer property for tax purposes, the petition to declare him dead was denied.

* * * * * * * * * *

Philippe was sure he was insane. Actually, it was just easier to believe that he was insane that to believe that "Lucius," the gray-bearded man dressed in a dapper 1920s wool suit in his antique mirror had been directing him to murder prostitutes and dispose of their bodies.

It was easier to believe that he was insane than to believe that he had been kidnapped and held prisoner by two vampires.

Being insane made it easier to deal with the dreams of blood raining on viburnum leaves and Katie crying on a bloody tombstone.

Most of all, it was easier if Katie was just a figment of his imagination, not the girl he fell in love with and lost to her insanity.

So it was easier to believe he was insane than to believe that the beautiful tattooed woman here in his living room was going to stop his nightmares.

"Bloodmoon" was the name she said she used in the coven. "Jessica Bloodmoon Aberdeen" she had told him. "My friends call me ' 'Moon.' My great grandmother was Native American named 'Bloodmoon'." Philippe had puzzled for a moment because of her ivory skin before he noted her prominent cheekbones that hinted of her lineage. He decided she was telling the truth.

'Moon had instructed him to move all the furniture to the sides of the room while she place candles around it. When Philippe finished the task he turned and actually froze in place when he saw that 'Moon was stripping off her black clothes.

"Take off all of your clothes" she ordered as she stood on one leg to remove her pants. "We have to be sky clad for this spell to work." Philippe began to unbutton his shirt without taking his eyes off her. She was probably a good twenty pound overweight for her five foot three height, but every pound was in the right place to accentuate her femininity. Her breasts were huge, her hips round and broad, thighs chubby and her belly slightly round, supple and inviting.

The candlelight made her purple-dyed hair look black. Philippe felt his penis harden as she dropped the straps of her black bra off her shoulders and turned it to unhook the clasps and free her breasts. He wasn't surprised that virtually every inch of her shoulders and back was covered with tattoos: Native American thunder birds soared over Pennsylvanian Dutch hexagrams, runes and sun wheels stood below Irish crosses and crescent moons.

She didn't say a word as she bent to skin her black lace panties down her chubby thighs and stepped out of them revealing a well-trimmed bush of pubic hair and another pair tattoos, ankhs, the ancient Egyptian symbol for "life," directly over each ovary.

"We can't proceed until you're naked" she said without emotion. Philippe realized he had become so enthralled with her that he had not removed his pants, which he hurried to do while she reached into her black buckskin leather bag and removed a box of white powder. She stood there holding it while she watched him finish undressing. As he turned she saw his half-erect penis and smiled.

"Kneel here in the center of the room while I draw the circle of salt" she said through her grin. Philippe did as he was told and watched her luscious hips jiggle as she poured the salt around him. When she finished she knelt directly in front of him, her knees an inch from his as she sat back on her heels.

"If this..." Philippe started to say, but 'Moon covered his mouth with her hand. He had meant to say "If this is insanity I want to stay here," since it was so much better than the blood dreams, or the killings, or loosing Katie.

'Moon moved her hand to the side of his face then placed her other on his other cheek. "Banish those thoughts, Philippe" she said. "If you would be free of the vampires' evil think only of this moment. Understand?"

He nodded.

"Very good" 'Moon said, leaning in to kiss his lips lightly then pulling back. "Take me now" she ordered and resumed the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth and pressing her breasts to his chest. Her arms crossed behind his neck as his circled her waist.

His penis, now fully erect, pressed the soft rolling flesh of her belly. He tried to lay her down on the hardwood floor as gently as he could and she obliged by spreading her legs to give him an unobstructed path to her vagina. It was warm and wet and he slid in easily. For just a moment he thought of Katie, and how he had longed to be her one and only but never got to...

'Moon interrupted his thought by contracting her vaginal muscles around his member. Clearly she was no virgin, but she was tighter than any woman he had ever had. He began thrusting and she bucked her hips against him, moaning with pleasure and kissing his cheek between gasps. Her black-polished fingernails drew a trickle of blood across his shoulders as her first orgasm rocked her body and he felt her thighs trying to clinch against his hips.

He felt his own orgasm rising as she climaxed again, and then he ejaculated deep into her body.

"Goddess!" 'Moon breathed in a whisper. "Goddess giving life! Ka Nam Ah, Ka Nam Ah..." she chanted as he continued to thrust. He thought he felt her spasm in a third orgasm before he stopped.

'Moon stroked his hair and pushed his head so she could look into his eyes. "We must finish the ritual in the position from which we started, on our knees," she whispered. "Will you help me up?"

Without a word Philippe rocked back onto his knees, his strong hands pulling 'Moon up with him. Again she wrapped her arms around his neck and put her tongue into his mouth. When she broke the kiss she buried her face against his neck and he lightly kissed her shoulders, lips touching each tattooed symbol even though he had no idea what they meant. At length they broke their clinch, both smiling.

Then Philippe realized that 'Moon was not looking at him, but at something behind him.

"Welcome, Grandfather!" 'Moon spoke loudly.

Philippe tried to stand but succeeded only in falling backwards onto his hip and looking up at Lucius, not in the antique mirror but standing just outside the salt circle.

"Lucius!" Philippe stammered. "You're..." he looked at 'Moon and back at his gray-bearded mentor. "Grandfather?"

"Actually," said Lucius with a grin as he grasped Philippe's hand to help him to his feet, "I'm BOTH of her grandfathers. John Aberdeen was a good man but not very smart when it came to women. Probably couldn't have children of his own either, which is why his loving wife turned to me. Oh, we haven't been properly introduced. You've known me only as Lucius. My full name is Lucius Jethro Carter."

Philippe felt a chill run down his spine even though the room was warm enough to make nudity comfortable. 'Moon had risen to her feet and leaned against him, breasts pressing against his arm as she entwined her fingers with his.

"Ca... Ca..." he tried to talk.

"Yes, my boy," Lucius continued. "When my dear brothers William and John were bitten by vampires they came after me, but I escaped into the mirror." He nodded toward the huge antique mirror on the wall. "Vampires cast no reflection, so they couldn't get to me there.

"And the Aberdeens used Native American medicine to protect themselves" 'Moon added.

Philippe had begun to regain his composure. "So you used witchcraft to protect yourselves from vampires..."

"We don't like the term 'witchcraft,' but you have the essence of the matter. The magic we practice was old when God told Moses to kill all the witches in the Canaan. It is passed down form generation to generation, usually from mother to daughter," he exchanged grins with 'Moon, "but sometimes a boy like myself acquires knowledge... and power."

"Can you make the nightmares stop?" asked Philippe.

Again 'Moon and Lucius smiled at each other. "You have done your share. You killed the whores..." said Lucius.

"Yeah, and I'll rot in hell for it, won't I?" snapped Philippe.

"No" 'Moon answered quickly. "Lucius chose only hopeless drug addicts for you. You did them the greatest favor any mage could have done for them."

"Mage?" said Philippe "I'm a mage?"

"Not yet" said Lucius. "But you're well on your way: Killing the whores set you on the path, and impregnating Bloodmoon released enough life energy to bring me out of the mirror."

"Impregnating...'Moon?" Philippe looked at the naked woman who smiled back at him.

"I know you wanted to have children with Katie," she said. "But when our spirit allies showed her the truth she couldn't deal with it. Someday you may have a relationship with her, but she will be beyond the age to bear children when you return. So Lucius summoned me."

"OK, you're going to have my child." Said Philippe. "Do we get marr... wait a minute. 'When I return?' What do you mean by that?"

"You are going where the nightmares cannot reach you" said Lucius, and pointed at the mirror. "The world 'through the looking glass' is much more than those silly Victorians imagined. All you need, food, clothing, shelter, will be provided and you will learn from the mirror people all that I learned and perhaps more."

Philippe looked at 'Moon. "Will you come with me?" He pleaded "and raise our child there? Together?"

'Moon shook her head. "The child would not survive..." she said meekly, looking down at the floor.

"Don't worry, my boy" boasted Lucius. "Your child will be under my protection, and the protection of her mother's coven. When we are united no vampire can face us and survive. Only you are unprotected, so you must go...now."

Philippe looked down at his naked body. He was about to protest but Lucius spoke before he could: "You must go as you are. Clothes and every other thing you need await. Look!"

Philippe looked at the mirror and saw...people? Beautiful women in fine lace, handsome men in purple cloth and golden armor,

'Moon still held his arm and to prompt him toward the mirror tightened her grip and took a step in that direction. Philippe started to follow, but then paused and turned to face her. She didn't know what he was thinking until he grabbed her and planted a kiss more passionate than their earlier loving on her lips. She felt her vagina produce another gallon of fluid as if it were preparing to receive another load of Philippe's sperm, but he was not going to mate with her again. He was saying good-bye.

Philippe released 'Moon and glanced at Lucius who smiled and nodded.

Philippe turned his back on them and stepped into the mirror. No sign of him remained except his discarded clothes in a pile outside the circle of salt.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sergeant Pat DeVallera sat alone in the precinct office as the sun rose over the West Bank of the Mississippi River. It had been a long night. He hadn't been home since the previous morning and his day old grey beard and sweat soaked shirt made him look as uncomfortable as he felt.

The cigarette in his hand had burned his fingers: He meant to finish it, but after one drag he forgot to inhale again until he felt the fire reach his thumb. He snuffed it out and resumed his "thousand mile stare" at the blank wall.

An hour later Captain Butler arrived, early as usual. To call him "portly" was kind to the point of insult. Behind his back people called him "Porky" until they found out how fast he settled scores with anyone he thought might be a threat to his career. In a bar fight or the political knife fights with the City Council, his subordinates knew they could trust him to watch their backs and keep their secrets out of the newspaper.

"Mornin', Pat."

"Morning Captain" DeVallera replied without making eye contact.

Butler put down his briefcase outside his office door and crossed the room to the sergeant's desk. "I haven't seen that look on your face since the Molly Maggot case" he croaked in his Louis Armstrong-like voice.

DeVallera shivered even though the room was hot. "Molly Maggot" was the name New Orleans police gave to a murder victim some fifteen-plus years before, a prostitute found decomposing in an abandoned house with twenty wrappers from motion picture film scattered on the floor around her. The people who killed her had filmed everything they did to her for three full days before she died. Then they kept filming what they did to her for a full day after she died. DeVallera had been Butler's partner at the time.

"That was the last time I felt like this" Pat replied picking up the diary off his desk and holding it up for Butler to read the name "Philippe Trufont" on the cover. "A man doesn't leave town and leave shit like this behind. He confesses to a half dozen murders and details how he disposed of the bodies. Somebody had to have whacked him."

"That's what the D.A. thinks, too, Pat. You concur on closing those missing person cases as homicides?"

"Yeah. What's eating me is that Trufont... he... I mean..."

"You feel like he was your responsibility since you had to protect him until the trial."

"Yeah. According to this he committed the first murder a month before he testified against the Carters. He had the corpse in his God damned workshop, for Christ sake! I was in that building and never bothered to look."

Butler sighed heavily. "No reason you should have. He was a witness, not a suspect. But you're not gonna like what came in on the Carters five minutes ago."

DeVallera's expression changed. "The Carters are dead. I was a witness at the execution. They fried those bastards in the Angola electric chair."

Butler sighed again. "You know much about how we do things with family crypts here in N'Awlins?"

"Kind of... When they need space for a body they take the last guy out of his coffin, drop him down into the vault and put the new coffin in at the top of the tomb." Pat puzzled for a moment. "Why?" he added.

"Seems the Carter family had a death this week. The keepers at St. Louis Cemetery opened the family crypt to move our boys this morning. Wanna guess what they found?"

Pat stared at his Captain.

"Prison seals were unbroken, but the coffins were EMPTY. You want to go take the statements, or should I let a uniform handle it?"

DeVallera was on his feet reaching for his coat before Butler finished the question.

"This is still my case, Captain" he mumbled. He was at the door when Butler spoke again.


DeVallera turned to look back at him. "Sir?"

"Be careful. This case..."

Pat cut him off: "This case destroys people. Silas is on medical leave; doctor says he may have to retire. Fremont's dead. Molly Johnson is brain damaged in a nursing home. Katie Boudreau's a whimpering basket case who thinks she's eight years old and Trufont... is...he's... I'll be careful, Captain, but I gotta do this."

The door closed behind him. Captain Butler silently agreed: Yes, Pat DeVallera was the one who had to do this.



It was almost noon when DeVallera and the uniformed officers agreed that there was nothing further to do at St. Louis Cemetery. Pat handed the notes to the officers headed to the precinct HQ and started toward his car on the other side of Basin Street.

He'd never taken the time to walk through the cemetery, much less to admire the statues, epitaphs and architecture that make New Orleans cemeteries tourist attractions. Today his tired brain made strange associations: He spotted the site where Peter Fonda and Denis Hooper filmed the acid trip scene from EASY RIDER, then the crypt of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau, next to the family crypt of the late mayor of New Orleans, Dutch Morreal. "Sorta 'splains it all" he mumbled as he turned his eyes to the Locoul tomb and thought about the legend of Elizabeth Locoul taking a branding iron to the face of a slave who tried to join General Butler's Union Army.

A few steps further a sound came to his ears: A woman was weeping, crying her heart out. Looking around he spotted her.

The young brunette knelt on a grave with her arms on its weathered stone cross, her face buried in her elbow and her auburn and brown hair cascading over her shoulders and arms. DeVallera paused and almost unconsciously noted that she wore a Catholic school girl's uniform of purple skirt and white blouse, both of which looked like she had slept in them and that she was too old to still be in school. Though he couldn't see her face he could see a puddle of blood and tears had formed at the base of the cross. Obviously she had cried for some time.

"Ma'am?" said DeVallera, "Can I help you?"

Without a word she raised her head. Her eyes were red as the blood that ran from both nostrils down to her mouth and then down her slim white neck to stain her blouse. Her jaw hung open as if she was trying hard to breath. DeVallera recognized her instantly.

"Katie? Katie, what happened?"

She couldn't answer.


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