A different type of Appeal – Amy Hodges-Laurenzo
A Bloody Infatuation – Michel Croteau
– Amy Hodges-Laurenzo
Chapter 1
Back in New Orleans…
An apartment beyond the French Quarter…
The room looked dark, but Jessiah moved unhindered.
He shuffled through the things of the occupant, Diana Fairchilde.
He found a birth record for her, a couple death certificates, adoption papers, and college details. There seemed to be no documented proof that she had indeed been the Dark Childe foretold.
Jessiah looked through everything he could before he left. When he did leave, he took the birth, death certificates, and the adoption papers with him.
She was dreaming.
***
Sherwood Forest in England…
She was running.
Diana was dressed in an old set of riding leathers that was common for the 1600s.
Shouts rose behind her as she sought to escape pursuit. She had to run…they wanted to kill her.
“Where did she go?”
“She can’t get away! Get her! Kill her!”
“Kill the Witch!”
The term ‘witch’ didn’t feel right.
Rustling kicked up around her and she turned to look.
Wolves ran past her…some how she knew the Pack Name.
Dark Star Pack.
The yelling behind her became screams.
Running at high speeds, Diana jumped over an old dead log into a clearing.
Suddenly it all just…stopped.
The forest was darker.
Ravens shot up in all directions.
Flames around the clearing were purple in color.
Diana looked up to see a people with wings that were as black as night.
“Fallen”, whispered a male voice.
Four individuals stood at the edge of the clearing that drew her attention. They were easily eight feet or taller, gigantic.
They looked human like and Diana could not see these specific four very clearly.
“Nephilim.”
It was the same voice.
“Children of the Fallen”, she said remarkably calm, “How does this relate to me?”
The Nephilim moved and eyes flashed…then they appeared.
A pentacle was glowing on the ground and twenty or so people were around it in robes and chanting a single word…”Dark Childe.”
A fiery reflection of herself caste in the heart of the pentacle. Diana saw herself, dressed normal in a short black dress, but her eyes were like two black orbs…like raven eyes.
“After five hundred years, the light will feel darkness once again. They will see us once again in one. The need for true balance will return the calling darkness and allow my blood to flow pure once again in a daughter. She will breathe and she will walk. The Order of Heaven’s Decree will fall.
“Then my blood will be well spent.”
She had eyes on someone that led this circle…he looked like her late father.
***
The dream came to an end.
Diana came awake. She bolted up right.
Damon came with her. He took her face in his hands and made her look at him. “Sh, calm down Diana. You’re safe. I promise you.”
Her eyes were solid black like a raven’s. “Dark Childe”, she rolled her head in his hands. “Dark Childe, Nephilim blood. I exist because of the Fallen.”
Damon nodded, “I know, Diana. I know and I love you regardless.” His wolf eyes flashed.
Diana began to calm. Her eyes spun and then the irises seemed to close again over her pupils.. Normalcy came about and the green with brown flakes became evident. She smiled lightly, “You’re a Wolf.”
He released her face, but she caught his left hand and held it to her cheek.
“Yeah, I’m a wolf. I am Damon Samuelson, the Alpha of the Dark Star Pack.”
“You smell like a fine vintage Merlot.”
“You smell like a campfire with Hickory and Mesquite in the woods in the fall. I adore that.
“You know that you are fated to me?” He became a bit serious.
She nodded, “A witch told me that was playing with a tarot deck that my mate is a wolf that will put himself between me and mortal peril in this life. I would like to know you before any mating takes place…”
He smiled, took her hand and kissed it. “We can take our time in that, Diana. We can slow things down and know each other along the way while I protect you from the Order’s Paladin Hunters. Trust and let me protect you and when you are ready, then we will approach it.”
“Thank you”, she agreed, “Lets talk about all of this and you can tell me how much you know. I can use the knowledge.”
Just before sun up…
The other four wolves had been tending the van at a gas station outside of Shreveport when Damon and Diana woke up. They jumped when the panel door opened. The van’s color had changed to blue now.
Slade stepped around to the door with a dripping window squeegee. “Are you two alright?”
Damon got out first, then he reached back and helped Diana out. “She woke up and we need to stretch our legs.” He guided Diana around to the guys to see. “Diana, this is Slade Harding, my Beta.”
“How do you do, Diana?”
She nodded her head to him.
“This big lug with the goat scruff is Chad Vargas. Trip and Tray are the twins.”
“Hi guys.”
All three men did a two finger salute.
Damon guided her toward the convenience store.
Slade smiled, “The way they look, I see them getting together in a few days.”
Chad thought a moment, “I give it a week.”
One twin shakes his head and the other threw his hand up and waved them off. Neither wanted to place a bet on things.
Inside the convenience store, Diana winced at the lighting.
“Diana?”
“I’m OK, I probably have a slight hang over.”
“We will grab some stuff here, but don’t hesitate to tell me if you don’t feel well.” He drew her along with him to the soda cases.
She noticed and stepped away to the restroom some twenty feet away. “Be right back.” She slipped inside.
Damon waited outside. He relaxed as he scoped out the store. When it came to dealing with Paladin Hunters, the buddy system worked for the hunted.
Just north of Lake Pontchartrain…
Jessiah drove in a rent-a-car toward a lead. There was a house near Baton Rouge that James and Jessica Fairchilde had been residents of and had lived in recently.
Suddenly, a car over took his and ran him off the road.
Not injured in the incident and the vehicle fine, he grabbed his side arm and got
out.
The other driver got out as well. He stood taller than Jessiah and was dark skinned. His hair was dark, curly, and short. His eyes were brown. He wore a black long sleeve shirt and black slacks with boots. He held his 454 Casull trained on Jessiah.
“Xander Rains”, Jessiah kept his .9 mm trained on the man as well. “What do you want?”
“Viceroy told the league that you failed to hit your mark. Well, you hit her, Diana Fairchilde, but the hit not fatal. You fucked up.”
“I know I fucked up. However this is still my assignment and kill.”
“You aren’t top dog anymore. And Viceroy lifted the restriction. Any of us can kill the Dark Childe now.”
Jessiah reacted. He shot Xander in the hand holding the Casull, making him drop it. “Fuck you.”
Xander shook his hand a moment but went to grab the gun from the ground.
Jessiah kicked him in the jaw with a standing side kick before dropping straddle Xander’s torso. He unloaded with fists on the face of his rival and beat the crap out of him.
Only when Xander had been knocked out, did he stop and get off him.
Jessiah picked up the 454 Casull and fired a shot into the engine block of his rival’s car.
There was an explosion, but the two men had been clear of it.
He then walked back to his own vehicle with both guns, got in, started it up, and drove off. He left Xander on the roadside to fend for himself with the swamp predators in the early morning.
In the dog eat dog world of the Order’s Hunters, cut throat guaranteed prestige and recognition for the absolute best of the missions.
Jessiah had always been that damn good that others always tried to cut in on his actions. He made himself a promise…I won’t miss again.
Peeling the Layers
© 2025 – Dark Childe
– Michel Croteau
In the north kingdom of Marsh Fenland, the young handsome elf Elfvar is the page of lady Elfnor the daughter of Count Toren who after the death of the king have become a powerful ruler.
The page elf Elfvar and lady Elfnor have been growing up and played together since they were children … and since then they have loved each other.
Often young Elfnor asked Elfvar: “Are you going to be my mate when we are older?’’
“Elfnor … you know that your father will never give me a servant the honor to be your mate”
“Then you don’t love me … do you?” Elfnor would protest.
“Dear you know that I love you more than my life and I will give my life for you but Count Toren … I am sure that he has promised you some Count like him or a prince. “
“My father loves me very much and he will not deny me to be happy … you’ll see,” Elfnor would reassure her playmate.
Years later when Elfnor has become a lovely young lady she tells her father Count Toren that she loves Elfvar, and she wants him to be her mate.
”Daughter, are you out of your mind? … you a countess mated to a servant? And bring dishonor to your father? you must forget Elfvar…it is just a childish infatuation” Count Toren uttered resolutely.
“But father I love him since I was a child, and I couldn’t bear my life without him … please reconsider my request.” Elfnor implored her father to try to hug him.
“I will not allow it, and I’ll send Elfvar to join the army fighting the mountain Elves or else… and soon I’ll arrange for you an honorable mating… count Elfdon has just asked for your hand in marriage”
“Oh no … no Elfdon… that gross old man…” Elfnor thought, but she better not contradict her father for the sake of her beloved.
”Yes father … sire but have pity on Elfvar!” Elfnor cries but seeing that her father was resolute in his decision she ran out to alert Elfvar of the danger she has put him in by revealing her love for him.
She found Elfvar in the garden attending to the flowers.
“Elvar, my love we must run away together right now … my father is planning to send you into the army fighting the mountain Elves to keep you away from me.”
“No dear I will not dishonor you … let’s go together to talk to him. Maybe if he sees how much we love each other he will change his mind.” Elfvar proposed taking Elfnor by the hand and taking her to her father’s quarter.
When the young lovers enter Count Toren’s quarter, he is outraged.
“What is this madness?… vile servant how dare you touch my daughter and ask to be her mate?” Count Toren threatens Elfvar unsheathing his dagger “Leave now or you’ll both pay with your life your audacity”.
‘’My lord you wrong me …please listen …” while Elfvar got closer to count Toren to implore him to not use violence against his daughter and him, Toren tries to stab him.
Elfvar intercepts the dagger to disarm the Count but during the struggle was Toren that gets wounded and died screaming. “Bloody traitor I curse you and Elfnor.”
The terrified lovers rush out of Count Toren’s quarter.
‘’Elfnor, my love we got say goodbye … I must run away, or your father’s guards will imprison and condemn me to death.”
“Oh no … don’t go … what I would do without you? … It was an accident…I‘ll tell them.” Elfnor implores.
“They won’t believe it especially your brother… he will want to avenge your father death at any cost … I must go … forgive me.”
“Where are you going? And when will I know where you are, and you are safe?”
“I don’ know but I’ll find the way … goodbye my love.’’ Elfvar fleetingly kissed Elfnor, and then he rushed away.
Elfvar ran into the forest and decided to join the army fighting the mountain Elves … under a false name. ‘’It is better to die fighting honorably for his country’’ – he thought –‘’ than be hanged accused of a murder… that I have not committed!’’
After a long journey he reaches the border where the north kingdom of Marsh Fenland army was stationed, and he joined it under the false name of Elfrav. They send him into battle, and he distinguishes himself for bravery. The other fighters befriend Elfvar and take him into the local tavern. Here Elfreza a witch reads the fortune of the fighters but when she gets close to Elfvar, he is afraid to be found out and tells her:
“Stay away from me despicable creature”’ and while he is about to leave Elfreza grabs him by the arm and utters prophetic words:
“Be aware of deception, vengeance, betrayal, and murder.”
The dead Count Toren’s son Elfton bent on avenging the family honor and the death of his father disguised himself as peasant comes to the border where the north kingdom of Marsh Fenland army is stationed. He has learned the new recruits have joined the fighters and he hope to find Elfvar between them.
Elfton at the tavern where the fighters hang out asked the witch Elfreza to show him the new recruits. She lies telling him that there aren’t new recruits. Long time has passed since the death of the Count Toren and Elfton don’t recognize Elfvar when they are sent in battle together.
Meanwhile Elfnor unable to learn of Elfvar whereabouts has followed her brother Elfton knowing that he is determined on avenging the family honor and the death of his father.
When his brother Elfton left the tavern, Elfnor entered and befriended the fortune teller witch Elfreza.
“Mam can you please help me … I am looking for … the one that should have been my mate, but a cruel destiny has separate us and I know that my brother is looking for him determined on avenging the family honor and the death of our father.” Elfnor tells the witch Elfreza.
“Shush young naïve creature … don’t go around telling your story that could trigger deception, vengeance, betrayal, and murder. I will help you … I can see with my magic power that you are innocent and so your fated mate. Come with me … I’ll disguise you as gypsy fortune teller friend of mine until you can reunite safely with your fated mate.’’ Elfreza reassured Elfnor and took her away to her lodging.
Elfton and Elfvar got sent to battle together … they both fight with bravery, but Elfton gets wounded, and he can’t walk to go back to the fighters’ quarters. Elfvar offers to help to bring him back to the borders where the army of the north kingdom of Marsh Fenland army is stationed.
On the way back Elfton looking at Elfvar more closely … asked him:
“Who are you? Your face looks familiar!”
Elfvar refused to hide his identity any longer and told him the truth.
“I am Elfvar … I was your sister’s page …I am the one whom you came here to kill … but before you do I want you to know that I am innocent … my only fault and Elfnor’s is that we love each other.”
“I believe you … but … still I must challenge you to a duel to avenge the family honor and my father’s murder.”
“I understand … I will not run away!’’ Elfvar promised … then he added “ I see a lodging … let’s take a rest.”
The lodging was the witch Elfreza’s place where Elfnor was hiding. They both were outside collecting herbs when they heard the conversation between Elfton and Elfvar.
Elfnor recognized her brother and her beloved Elfvar and she ran to them.
“Beloved brother and mate …’’ – Elfnor implored – ‘’please let’s have peace … no more blood!”
”Elfnor my love … finally we are together again even if it will be not for long.” Elfvar suspired embracing Elfnor.
“It will be forever … I with my magical powers I declare Elfvar and Elfnor mates” -Elfreza intervened and added – ‘’and I’ll curse anybody who would Jeopardize their happiness.”
© 2025 – Michel Croteau
– Dom Sabasti
I love the taste of peppermint. Not spearmint, not wintergreen, good old-fashioned peppermint. The king of mints.
As a creamy center, it is divine. As a hardened crystal, malleable to any desired shape, it is supreme. This is my weapon of choice. Candy canes. I am known as Candy Cain, and I like to kill.
I started off as a child, as most things do. I remember my first kill. An injured bird, unable to get away. I held it in my hands, felt its fear. It invigorated me. I squeezed it, hard, but my small hands were inadequate to the job.
I stared at it, as I squeezed. The sounds it made. Squeeks and shrieks, trills and whistles, all heightened by the panic of being subdued, nearly crushed. This was my music.
I held its life in my hands, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I wanted it all. I used the only other tools I had, my teeth. This worked surprisingly well. I severed the little head with only a small amount of pressure, but a large amount of pleasure. Not much blood in a bird. I spat the head out in one direction and threw the body in the other. A small trickle of blood oozed down the corner of my mouth. My first red stripe.
This was the beginning of who I became, who I chose to be. I stalked. I killed. I drank. Then I would start sucking on a fresh candy cane. The coppery taste of blood mixed with the effervescence of peppermint is absolutely divine. This sufficed to keep me alive for countless centuries, the killing blood, not the yummy peppermint. I aged, but at a much slower rate than the mortals I hid among.
The winter season became a favorite for the use of peppermint, so the holiday season became my favorite. And the deliciously magical sticks of sweet wonder became my new weapon.
I had been sucking on a new stick, twirling it in and out of my mouth, my tongue cupping the shaft as it slowly thrusted. And then I tasted blood, my blood. The tip of the crystal stick had worn down to a lethal point. I jabbed my tongue again, feeling a new sensation blossom into my repertoire. It was that very moment that I realized I had never before tasted my own blood. It was so unlike the creatures of the forest, or the vermin of the village, or even the forgotten drunkard in the alley. This taste, this blood, was beyond magical, it was orgasmic.
I lost track of how many times I stabbed and jabbed the inside of my mouth. Even long after the pointy tip had broken off, leaving a jagged edge to scrape and gouge. And then the candy was gone, and I knelt there, on the street, in the snow. Rivers of red pouring from my maw, staining my cloak in crimson stripes. I screamed a climax to the blood moon, gurgling on my scarlet magic. The night fell silent in an eerie blanket of respect as the echoes of my blood scream died in the distance. I was reborn, again.
I spat out a heinous glob of ruby essence into the town well as I made my way to the outskirts and the long shadows, giving the patrons a parting gift. This act fully departed me from the world of humanity. But I still needed to be connected. Humans were the only viable source for true sustenance. I could and did survive on smaller prey, but it always left me longing.
Cities evolved over the years, many becoming empires onto themselves, hosting all manner of life. The bustling crowds were easy to blend in with, as long as I kept my face hidden. There were so many people now, making my choices nearly overwhelming. A feast for the beast.
***
That’s one of the stories I like to tell colleagues and friends. Downtime can be a right boring bitch. Not all of it was made up. I did grow up as a child, sort of. I was drawn to blood, and once tasted, eternally addicted. I really do like peppermint, and my name is Candy Cain.
I am here, now, with you, to indulge and share an experience. A kill, complete with all the frosting and sprinkles, with whipped cream, a caramel drizzle, and a cherry on top. Doesn’t that sound appetizing? Don’t swallow yet, and don’t you dare think about spitting. Take it in, enjoy the flavor, the experience, the magic.
It’s a cold night, blah blah blah. I don’t even know what city I’m in. Just a random street with random buildings, some tall, some short. Standard city noise tainted with xmas carols. Oh look, a Starbucks. Perfect moment for a peppermint mocha. Chocolate wasn’t a thing way back when I first started. But now that I’ve discovered it, well, bliss on top of orgasm.
Sipping and walking, working up my tastebuds, sniffing the local riff-raff. To me, everyone who is mortal is considered riff-raff. For the majority of encounters. If I need money, I hire myself out, as an assassin. As it is the holiday season, a few extra pieces of paper in my pocket would do well. That’s where I just came from, the Bulletin Board. I picked up a couple of hits, so here I am.
Most of the time I just hunt for pleasure. Doing a job for someone else for a sizable chunk of cash made me giddy. I get to do what I love, my life’s passion, and people pay me to do it. But was it still a life if you never died? I have existed for countless centuries. “Countless” because I never bothered to count. I don’t need an extra layer of boring.
I take out one of the many candy canes I have upon my body. You can never have enough. I love that crinkle of the clear plastic when you first crack it open. It sounds like a tiny campfire as you peel it back. People are into that kind of thing, autonomous sensory meridian response (ASMR). I only recently discovered this sensation had a name. I just call it the tingles, or sometimes it feels like foreplay.
The street I walk is moderately populated. It is fully dark, and it snowed earlier in the day. I don’t like the day, too many people, too bright. Makes me nauseous. I stir the candy cane around the thick brown liquid then take a sip from my venti heaven, coating my tongue in rich sweetness. Coffee, chocolate, peppermint, all amazing. But nothing beats that fresh flow of blood as it gushes into my mouth and down my throat. That is the definition of a cosmic orgasm.
The cup begins to make those empty slurpy sounds, so I chuck it down the next alley I pass. Time to start narrowing this down. The first hit needs to be female, redhead, and single. Some guru dudes I once met in Tibet taught me this trick of honing in on a person’s desire. Given my proclivities, my olfactory senses became attuned, aided by their ancient magic. Nice thing about this trick is that it detects the natural essence of what I’m triangulating. So, even if, let’s say, a redhead has dyed their hair, I still know what they truly are. I always go for the redheads first. Personal preference. Probably has some Freudian reasoning because I am also of a redheaded nature. Maybe that’s part of the magic? Who knows. I don’t really care for the intricacies. As long as it works, we’re good.
Something in the air catches my attention. The tingling starts, first in my nostrils. I breathe in fully, saturating my inner aura (always keep your aura on the inside). I blink three times. There, off to the left, the tail of a trail. I smile and rub my nipples, which are already perky from the cold. I shudder out a quivering moan, then set my sites.
The caffeine and sugar surge through my system. I am pumped. This is gonna be fun. You ready?
© 2025 – Dom Sabasti
