The Soul Collector

THE SOUL COLLECTOR

India Masters

® www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***** This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

The Soul Collector India Masters This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © August 2007 by India Masters All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-525-8 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Sherri Lynne Cover Artist: Croco Designs

Dedication To the two Sheri’s in my life: To Sheri Livingston, for mentoring a novice and for being the best crit partner and writing partner a girl could ask for. I’ve never laughed so much in my entire life as I have this last year knowing you. To Sherri Lynne, for liking my little story, and for having the patience of a saint as we worked on edits. Maybe one of these days we’ll make it to the Big Easy and I’ll buy you a café au lait at Café Du Monde. I said it once and I’ll say it again -- you rock! Thanks to my sister for, well, everything. Lastly, to Jessica/Dana, for dragging me outside my comfort zone, even if I did go kicking and screaming.

Prologue

Cedlan Tunnock knelt between his wife’s legs as she pushed, screaming in agony as another contraction rippled her belly. The passing hours had been sheer hell and still the midwife had not arrived. Anhia grew tired and the babe refused to come. Each moment drew more of her waning strength and Cedlan feared his beloved would pass into the spirit world. Another scream and Anhia pushed, expelling the child from her weakened body. Cedlan stared, horrified. He looked around the room to assure they were alone. The babe, a female, had been born with a caul. Cedlan, tore the membrane from the child’s head. Just in time, for the door flew open, admitting the driving wind and rain along with the midwife and her apprentice. “Sheabb,” the Druid priest cried to the midwife. “At last! The babe has just arrived. See to Anhia; there is much blood!” She hurried to Anhia’s side and lifted the sheet covering the young mother, then turned to Cedlan, a grim look on her careworn face. “Go to the temple, Cedlan Tunnock, and pray for your wife, for I fear she will not last the night.”

2

India Masters

The Druid high priest gave a strangled cry then donned his cloak. The door was nearly ripped from his hands as he left the cottage. The wind moaned, buffeting him from all sides, driving the rain into his exposed skin like tiny spikes. Cedlan fought his way across the ground and entered between the standing stones, throwing himself upon the altar. “Danu! Hear my plea!” Tears mingled with the rain as the priest lay prostrate on the altar. “I offer my life and the life of the child! Our lives for hers! I beg of you, Divine One! Spare Anhia and I will sacrifice myself and the child to your glorious mercy!”

***** Samhain -- fourteen years later

Midnight approached and Lillith shivered in the filmy robe as the procession made its way to the temple. She had prepared for this moment her entire life, but fear of the knife gripped her heart. The pain would be fleeting, this she knew, and her parents would be at her side to guide her from this world and into the new. Danu waited on the other side to breathe new life into her. At the stroke of midnight, the fires were extinguished. Lillith approached the altar and disrobed. Stretching out on the cold stone, she raised her arms above her head, baring her ribcage for the thrust of the knife. On her left, her father raised the ceremonial knife to the full moon. On her right, her mother knelt beside her in prayer. With those she loved near to her, Lillith closed her eyes and listened to her father’s invocation. “Hear me, Danu! Now is the promised time. This holy daughter begs your guidance to the Otherworld. Hear my prayer, Divine One! Take her hand and lead her into your light, that she may be reborn to your service. Remember all who have passed before her, grant them passage that new ones may be born to live in the glory of your name! Into your loving hands we deliver our daughter, Lillith!”

The Soul Collector

3

The tip of the knife was cold and sharp against her skin. Her father murmured words of love to her as the knife thrust into her, driving deep. She felt it pierce her heart and her eyes flew open. With a gasp, Lillith turned her eyes heavenward as the shimmering hand of Danu reached for her. She took the hand as she slipped the mortal coil. Oh, the beauty of Danu! Her body was the Earth, her hair the waters. Air was her breath; sun and moon lit her eyes. Lillith rose from her mortal body, looking down impassively as the blood pumped from her wounded heart to stain the altar. In that moment, all was known to her. She would walk the earth, immortal, collecting the souls of the dead, both good and evil. As time passed, a man would come to her…The crowd dispersed to the village center as the runners approached with the torches from the need fires in Uisneach. The Samhain feast had begun. Lillith gasped as Danu breathed life into her deflated lungs. Rising from the altar, she walked naked to the nearby spring to bathe. For the rest of her time on Earth, she would bear the mark of her father’s knife. Drying herself, she made her way from the temple and entered her parent’s cottage. A new gown hung from a peg by the bed. She donned the garment, tied the silver cord about her waist and shouldered a leather pack. She stood in the doorway, giving the place one last look, then turned and walked away into the night.

4

India Masters

Chapter One

New Orleans, Louisiana, 2007

More often than not, I prefer a shower, but there was a chill in the air so I decided to soak in the large spa tub. As I luxuriated in the heated water, I recalled Attila the Hun’s fascination with the Roman’s hot baths, remembering I was there when he humiliated Theodosius and the Roman Empire, then collected his soul as he drowned in his own blood on his wedding night. The world had changed drastically since I was reborn as a Soul Collector. People often romanticized the past, unable to comprehend the grinding poverty and disease that afflicted those who lived in those times. I raised my foot and flipped the lever to drain the tub. Enough reminiscing, the sun had just set over Lake Pontchartrain and I was late meeting Anton at Café Du Monde for coffee. As I leaned over to open a drawer, I was grabbed from behind, spun around, and thrown over the back of a leather club chair. A forearm across my back held me in place and I heard the sound of a zipper sliding open. My legs were shoved apart and I gasped as my attacker penetrated me from behind.

The Soul Collector

5

“Don’t make a sound” He pulled back to thrust into me again. His hands grasped my breasts, rolling the nipples between his thumb and index fingers. His hips moved like a piston, fucking me with long hard strokes. “Ah,” I sighed. “C'est tu, chéri. Dur, baises-moi dur.” Anton chuckled. “I’ll fuck you hard, cher.” Each word followed a hard thrust. He relinquished one of my breasts and reached around my hips to delve between my legs. He stroked my clit, making me mumble gibberish as his cock pounded into me. “And, by the way, you’re late, as usual.” “Oh, ooh, darling, I’m going to come while you’re fucking me like this!” Jesus, but he felt good, so long and thick, riding me hard and fast. I could feel my body beginning to clench, the familiar heat igniting from deep inside my pussy, building to an almost unbearable crescendo. I practically screamed at him to finish me, and he did, taking my clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing, the friction guaranteeing the fire he sought. I screamed like a nutria as the dam burst, thrusting my hips back to meet his every stroke until all I could do was sob and shudder as I came. He hadn’t come. As I sighed and went limp, he lifted me and carried me to the bed. It was a massive affair, imported from Italy, and large enough to hold four adults. An intricately scrolled wrought iron headboard took up most of the wall. “Put your arms up and grab the headboard,” Anton demanded. Naturally, I did. “Now, raise your legs and put your feet on the mattress.” Again, I cooperated. “Spread them wide, let me see your pussy.” I smiled, having been the beneficiary of his little games before. “Wipe that smile off your face, wench.” Aaah, the lord of the manor and the naughty upstairs maid. I liked this one. “Yes, sir,” I squeaked. “I’m sorry, sir.” “Tell me, wench, do you value your position here?” “Oh, yes, Mr. Anton, I do.”

India Masters

6

“That’s good, Lily, very good indeed.” He smiled down at me, slowly removing the rest of his clothes. “Look at me, Lily. What do you see?” I looked at my lover, widening my eyes in make-believe shock. “Oh, sir, it’s…it’s so big!” He nodded, pleased with his little maid. “Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to you, Lily?” “Y-yes sir.” I made my voice as timid sounding as possible. Anton climbed on the bed, stroking my inner thighs with skilled hands. His touch was whisper light, sending shivers down my spine as his fingers grazed the crease of each leg. With each touch, he came closer to my pussy, but never actually touched me there. “First, I’m going to touch you.” His voice was as soft as his caress. Then, finally, one finger traced the outline of my labia, teasing until the moisture began to flow. Next, that same finger slid under my outer lips to stroke the velvety flesh beneath. “You’re very soft, Lily. You like what I’m doing, don’t you?” I shuddered. Goddess, yes, I liked it. “I…yes, sir.” “That’s a good girl,” he crooned. His finger dipped inside my liquid center and I moaned. As a reward, I got another finger, both moving deeper this time. “Oh, Mr. Anton,” I sighed. “Are you ready for more, Lily?” “Oh, please, sir!” “All right, Lily. Now, do you know what I’m going to do next?” He stretched out on the bed, his head between my legs. “I’m going to put my mouth right here.” He touched my opening, and I shuddered. “I’m going to kiss you, and lick you, and suck every drop of juice from between your legs.” I groaned as Anton’s thumbs opened me to his questing mouth. His tongue advanced, licking at my opening, dipping in, penetrating, and then moving on. My clit, sensitized from

The Soul Collector

7

his earlier ministrations, jumped to attention the second his soft tongue stroked it, and I moaned loudly, thrusting against his mouth. “That’s my girl. I’m going to eat you until you come, cher, and then I’m going to fuck you good.” “Oh, oui!” His tongue stabbed at my clit and my hips jerked away. “Ah, ah, ah. We’ll have none of that, Miss.” He grasped my hips, holding them tight against his hungry mouth as he drew my clit between his lips to nurse. My hands came off the headboard to pound the mattress and he stopped to scold me. “Keep your hands on that headboard, girl!” “Yes, sir!” I squeaked, my entire body tensed to explode. His tongue lashed me and I cried out, over and over! My body nearly levitated off the bed as I came, legs thrashing, headboard pounding the wall. “Anton!” He gave me a few moments to come back to earth, then moved up my body, draping my legs over his shoulders. “Now, I’m going to fuck you, cher.” He plunged into me, his cock hard and hot. I had no control in this position, and Anton liked it that way. He could fuck me hard, then slow down. It drove me wild with need when he withdrew and slowly sank into me again. He teased me with slow, gentle thrusts then slammed into to me with a violence that took my breath. The man knew how to fuck, and that was what this session was all about. Later, we would make love, but right now he was hungry and he wanted to fuck. I tightened the muscles of my vaginal wall, gripping him, making him groan. “That’s right, mon amour, hold me tight!” He moved faster, nearing his own release. “God, you’re so hot, and wet, and tight. You feel so good.” He let my legs slide down his shoulders and close around his waist as he lunged his mouth against my neck. “J'ai besoin d'un goût de toi, bebe.” I need a taste of you. It’s been so long!

8

India Masters

I turned my head, granting him access. His canines elongated, scraping the skin, then found their mark, sinking into my neck. His moan of ecstasy shuddered through me with his final thrust and I came with him, my fingers uncurling from around the headboard. With a sigh, I stroked his hair, his shoulders, whispering nonsense as he came down. He released me, licking the wound to close it. “Thank you, Lillith,” he murmured into the hollow of my neck.

The Soul Collector

9

Chapter Two

The temperature on this April evening was a pleasant seventy-two degrees and the air was still. The trip from my building in the Vieux Carré to Café Du Monde was a short walk up Royal to Pirate Alley where we cut across Jackson Square to Decatur Street. Most of those we encountered were locals and we exchanged greetings, stopping to chat with a young Cajun couple renting an apartment in one of my buildings. “Lillith, Anton!” Emil and Antoinette Reynaud cried in unison. Antoinette laughed and smacked Emil’s arm. “Jinx ! Tume dois un coke.” Emil smiled and shook his head. “I try to learn English, and always she is speaking French to me. What means this ‘jinx’?” “In this sense of the word, jinx means something that is predestined,” I explained. He looked confused so I translated the word to French. “Prédestiné. It means to imply that you are so attuned to one another you say the same word at the same time. The one who catches it owes the other a Coke.” “Ah,” Emil said, then twirled his index finger next to his temple. “C'est fou, non?” Anton laughed. “Oui, mais elle est américaine.”

10

India Masters

Antoinette stuck her tongue out at Anton. “Just because I am American doesn’t mean I’m crazy. You Parisians are just too snooty.” Anton gestured as though plunging a dagger into his heart. “Snooty?” Emil asked. I placed an index finger under my nose and tipped my head back. “Ah, the nose in the air. This means too proud.” He gave this some thought, then shook his head. “Non, a Parisian may never be too snooty.” Antoinette snorted. “By the way, we were just headed over to Lola’s for dinner if you’d care to join us.” She looked directly at Anton as she spoke. It was never a good idea to get too friendly with people you do business with, especially when the business came in the guise of landlord and tenant. Besides, I’d had enough of her flirting. As always, Anton came to my rescue, wrapping his arms around me possessively. “Another time, perhaps. This is my night off, and I’m not sharing my girl with anyone. We’re going to Du Monde for a café au lait and then to Tujague’s. We love the shrimp remoulade and bonne femme chicken.” I backed against Anton’s chest and reached up to stroke his cheek. “And I intend to eat my weight in bread pudding.” He leaned down to nuzzle my cheek, drawing my eyes to his. “You’ll get fat as a cow and I’ll divorce you for a much younger, much skinnier woman.” Already, the rest of the world began to fade away. With Anton’s arms around me, his warm breath on my cheek, no one and nothing intruded. Emil cleared his throat. “We will leave you to your evening together, then.” We said our goodbyes, and Anton held my hand as we started across the square. We stopped in unison, exchanging a kiss when we heard Antoinette tell Emil how she hoped they would still be so much in love when they were our age. If only they knew.

The Soul Collector

11

One of the advantages of being sanctioned by The Divine One was that Anton had evolved over the years. Unlike some vampires, he was able to eat and drink as a normal person did. When instructed to relocate to the States, Anton requested we move to New Orleans, as it was the one metropolis in America most like European cities. We’ve lived in the Vieux Carré and have been patrons of Café Du Monde since its inception in 1862. Our combined powers shielded us from prying eyes that would question why we never appeared to age. As far as the locals knew, we were descendants of the first families of New Orleans who had the unfortunate tendency to name their firstborn children after themselves. New Orleanians have always had enough quirks of their own to not bother questioning why Anton never seemed to eat. For a number of years, all he could do was sip café au lait, but now he enjoyed all New Orleans had to offer in the way of cuisine. Café Du Monde, however, continued to be our favorite haunt. Anyone looking for Anton and Lillith knew when all else failed, wait at the cafe and we’d turn up. “Bonsoir, Anton, Lillith. How was your Christmas?” Lizzie called from the service window. “Two coffees coming up. Beignets tonight?” “Christmas was lovely, Lizzie, and yours? Please, just a single order,” Anton called back as he seated me. “We’re off to Tujague’s later this evening and Lillith is saving herself for the bread pudding.” A waiter hurried out with two coffees, an order of beignets, and a well used copy of the Times-Picayune. Anton took the business and lifestyle sections while I read the hard news. I frowned as I read the headline: “Westside Rapist Strikes Again.” The article went on to say that the police were unable to locate a point of entry but the woman had been savagely assaulted in her own bed in the middle of the night. An unnamed source with the NOPD stated the woman “woke from a dream” to discover an unknown, nude male in her bedroom. Police speculated the assailant was a Power-Reassurance Rapist, as the victim stated he acted as though they had a shared relationship. She also reported she did not know

12

India Masters

her assailant, who told her he would see her later, thanked her for the lovely evening, and disappeared. This was the third such attack in as many weeks in the New Orleans area. “Elle s’est réveillé d'un rêve, mon âne,” I muttered, tossing the paper on the table. Anton folded his section and reached for the paper I’d thrown down. “What’s this about your ass?” “I said, woke from a dream, my ass.” I glared pointedly at the paper and he began to read. As he read, Anton’s brow furrowed. “Incubus?” he asked softly. “That would be my take on it. A dream lover who disappears? What else?” Anton reached for his cell and dialed. “Detective Fabiene Robichaud, please.” I nodded approvingly and listened in as Anton greeted his contact inside the NOPD. “Fabiene, Anton here. Fine, and yours? Yes, she’s fine too.” I wiggled my fingers and Anton relayed my greeting. “She says hello and Merry Christmas.” A pregnant pause punctuated the conversation as Anton listened. “You know me too well, my friend. What can you tell me?” Anton nodded as Robichaud talked. “I see. But, of course, that’s why I called. I’ll call you as soon as we’ve spoken to him, mon ami.” Anton sighed. “It was as you expected. She was in the middle of an erotic dream when she woke to find the man between her legs, fucking her. She described an impressive orgasm and when her attacker came, he ejaculated copious amounts of semen. She said it burned. He stayed with her through the night, taking her again and again, each time she climaxed and when he ejaculated, it burned. Fabiene asks that we speak with Morgan.” I cursed the beast. “He was trying to impregnate her. We’ll have to keep an eye on her.” I gave my love a knowing look. “If she is pregnant, the babe cannot be allowed to live.” “I know that, Lillith,” he said, taking a tone with me. “I may not be as old as you, but I’ve been around long enough to know the damage a crossbreed can do.”

The Soul Collector

13

The vampire, Raphiel, who’d made Anton, was a vampiric crossbreed and able to reproduce. Fortunately for mankind, the beast was rabidly homosexual and could not tolerate the taste of feminine blood. I shivered as I recalled Anton’s condition when I found him over three hundred years before. His throat practically torn open. “Yes,” I said, my voice soft. “Forgive me, cher.” He smiled at me and took my hand. “No, forgive me. Raphiel is a long distant memory,

cher. Do not allow him to intrude on what we have now.” He drained his coffee cup and squeezed my hand. “Now, finish your coffee so we can get on with our evening.” I did as he asked and stood as he pulled my chair out, offering his arm. “Your bread pudding awaits, madame.” He leaned down and traced the outside of my ear with his tongue, then whispered, “Eat as much as you like, cher. No amount of flesh on that beautiful body could keep me from wanting you.” I laughed, taking his arm. “I am so going to fuck you senseless when we get home tonight. Or maybe, I’ll have you in your office at the club.” He raised an eyebrow as I continued. “Or perhaps I’ll slide beneath the full length tablecloth in the darkest spot in the club and suck you off while you’re chatting with Morgan.” His laugh started as a deep rumble in his chest and burst out of him like a clap of thunder. “Keep talking like that,” he growled seductively, “and I’ll take you against the wall of yon alleyway.” I laughed. “You don’t have the brass!” He did, of course, and I damn well knew it. I didn’t resist when he strode toward the service alley behind the buildings on Madison Street. He spied a small, private parking area and laid me over the fender of a new Volkswagen Beetle. “I’ll show you how much brass I’ve got, wench.” He growled, tossing my skirt over my head.

14

India Masters

Before I could say a word, Anton yanked my panties down and kicked my legs apart. I heard his zipper slide down and his pants drop. He grasped my hips, holding me still, and took me in one rough thrust. “Blessed Danu, you’re wet already. I swear, I think you’d let me lay you across the back of old Andrew’s horse and fuck you in broad daylight in Jackson Square.” How could I protest that I wouldn’t when he had me leaning over a car fender, fucking me hard and fast as people strolled down Decatur Street not three hundred yards away? All I could do was moan as his cock pummeled me from behind. “Ah, close are you?” he taunted. “I’m not anywhere near ready so don’t expect this to be over any time soon.” He had me practically sobbing with need as he denied me the orgasm I sought, again and again. Finally, he took pity on me and reached down to tweak my clit with his fingers. Oh, ooooh!” I was afraid people would gather to watch me come like a roman candle. In that moment just before orgasm, Anton bent his knees and fucked me with an upward motion, his hips slamming into me, grinding against me like a lap dancer. He clapped a hand over my mouth to mute my cries as my body shuddered and spasmed. He slammed into me one more time and leaned over to whisper in my ear that he was not done with me yet. Anton caressed my ass, giving me a moment to catch my breath. “What next?” he mused. His fingers slid into my pussy, gathered the moisture pooling there, and then he worked one into my ass, flexing it. Hearing me groan, he had his answer. “Yes, that’s a lovely idea. A little ass fucking never hurt a girl.” He dipped his still erect penis into my pussy, then parted my ass cheeks with both hands. He entered me slowly, allowing the narrow opening to stretch and relax for him. Finally seated to his full length, he flicked his hips and wrenched a groan from my panting lips. His hands massaged my ass as he withdrew and sank back in, moving slowly, deliberately, maddeningly. I was ready for more.

The Soul Collector

15

“Plus dur, bébé. Donnes-le moi plus dur,” I begged. Harder, baby. Give it to me harder. Anton moaned. “I’ll give it to you harder, all right.” He increased his pace, fucking me hard. “You have the most marvelous ass, cher. I swear, whatever hole I place my stick in, you’re as tight as a new bride.” His breath came hard and his voice rasped as he spoke to me in very dirty French. He practically growled as I worked my hips, thrusting back onto him as I sought release yet again. “All right, bebe. Now you’re going to come for me again.” His fingers found my pussy and clit and he worked them mercilessly. “Ah, God, come with me now, cher!” His cock pistoned into me and I cried out, not giving a shit who heard or saw. One more deep thrust had him spilling his seed deep inside my ass. His body curved over mine as we both sighed, slowly coming down. At last, I felt his lips move across my shoulders and down my back as he eased out of me and we straightened our clothes. I would pay for it later, anal sex was not something we did often and I was always sore afterward. Still, I saw it as a way to ease his mind when memories of Raphiel arose. I would be Raphiel and he could pour his pain and anger into my ass. I stood and turned to him. He took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. “I love you so, Lillith.” I purred against his chest. “And I you. Now, feed me darling. I fear you’ve taken the last of my strength.” Anton laughed, knowing the statement as a blatant falsehood. “Then I shall carry you,

cher.” I shrieked with laughter as he swung me into his arms and strode toward the restaurant. People laughed and smiled as we passed them never knowing we had just fucked ourselves silly in the alley behind them.

16

India Masters

Chapter Three

The shrimp remoulade and beef brisket at Tujague’s were tasty, sinus-clearing treats we’d enjoyed for years. Tujague’s had six entrees and we’d tried them all at one time or another. We’d been going there for so long no one bothered to take our order any more. We both had the shrimp and ordered the chicken and brisket to share. Anton loved the crawfish gumbo while I was a devotee of the corn with crab soup. The French bread loaf was crusty and tender, completely delicious when slathered with real butter. The bread pudding was rich and melt-in-your-mouth scrumptious. Anton chose the pecan pie and we occasionally shared bites, but I tended to be stingy most of the time, telling him if he wanted bread pudding he should have ordered it. Since we rarely partook of alcohol, we drank the rich café au lait, which was good but not as good as that sold at Du Monde. Bellies full of the best food New Orleans had to offer, Anton and I ambled through the Quarter at a leisurely pace. “I am worried about Morgan,” Anton confessed. “He becomes increasingly morose as the months pass.” “Yes. I’ve been thinking perhaps we need to spend more time with him. You don’t think he means to harm himself, do you?”

The Soul Collector

17

“I wish I knew, cher. Beatrice meant the world to him and he seems unable to recover from the loss. The young women at the club practically throw themselves at him, and he wants nothing to do with them. He merely smiles and declines even the most blatant offer.” “Everyone grieves at their own pace, Anton.” He placed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I suppose I can understand. Were I to lose you, I don’t think I could go on.” I nodded. “Nor I.” We turned up St. Peter and headed for Preservation Hall, stopping in to listen to the best jazz in the world before making the five block stroll to North Rampart and his club. The room was smoky but it didn’t bother us. We were both smokers. We found a table in a dark corner and snuggled up together to enjoy the music. Once we arrived at Anton’s, our time would no longer be our own. When the band took a break, we left Preservation Hall and headed north on St. Peter, past the crowds on Bourbon Street. Even though it was dark out, no one bothered us. We had a reputation in the Quarter as being slightly odd. The more superstitious folk believed we dabbled in voodoo. Amusing when you consider what we really were. “I’ve also been thinking that Morgan needs us now, more than ever,” Anton mused as we continued our casual stroll. “Darling, I would do anything I could to help him, but what can we do? You say he is more and more depressed. He has no interest in women, so trying to set him up with someone would be useless.” “I have noticed him attending to one woman.” His tone was hesitant so I raised a questioning eyebrow. “You, cher,” Anton admitted. “He has always been a little in love with you. It should come as no surprise that he desires you.” I felt a strange fluttering in my stomach. “And how do you feel about this?”

India Masters

18

Anton shrugged. “I have no doubt of your love for me, cher.” We arrived at Anton’s shortly after ten o’clock and the club was just beginning to hop. The DJ, born and bred in New Orleans, played a good mix of everything from Zydeco to Heavy Metal and sweaty bodies filled the dance floor, moving to the throbbing beat of some tune I didn’t recognize. Truthfully, I spent as little time as possible at the club. Although I knew Anton loved me to distraction, it was difficult for me to watch young women throw themselves at him -- especially when they knew damned well he belonged to me. But he was devastatingly handsome, with long, dark hair and pale blue eyes. Part of his job was to flirt and tease the female patrons, and I accepted that, but I didn’t have to watch. Anton held my hand firmly in his as we threaded our way through the crowd to a large, curved booth in the darkest corner of the club. He smiled, waved, and briefly paused to exchange pleasantries with customers until, finally, we reached the booth where Morgan Michaud sat waiting. “Good evening, Anton. Lillith, you’re dazzling as ever,” Morgan greeted us. I leaned in and kissed both his cheeks. “Darling, you’ve cut your hair! It’s fabulous.” I gave Anton a look and grinned, sliding into the seat next to Morgan. “You must tell me who did it.” Anton gave me a teasing growl. “Don’t get any ideas, wench. No scissors but my own will touch this hair.” He winked at Morgan. “Besides, what would you use for reins if I cut it all off.” I rolled my eyes. “Bah! As if you listen to anything I say!” The conversation carried on in this manner until a waitress brought us three bottles of Pellegrino and glasses of ice. Anton opened my bottle and filled my glass. It was just one of the little gestures of our everyday life that filled my heart with love for him. Morgan watched, his expression one of mingled affection and sadness. He too was an immortal,

The Soul Collector

19

another vampire saved from death to serve Danu, if somewhat lackadaisically. Immortals should never allow themselves to fall in love with mortals. I took his hand, squeezing it gently. “How are you, Morgan?” The vampire shrugged nonchalantly. “The same, ma petite. I miss her, but our lives go on, do they not?” He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Now, shall I guess why you needed to see me? Or shall I tell you?” “You’ve seen today’s paper?” Anton asked, guessing the vampire had. “‘The Westside Rapist Strikes Again,’ in large, bold letters. How could I miss it? Your thoughts?” He looked from Anton to me, waiting. “Fardeau,” we said quietly and in unison. Incubus. “Great minds,” Morgan commented. “Since this one moves freely day or night, I would guess some kind of crossbreed.” “We agree,” Anton told him. “Have you gotten any sense of him? Anything at all?” Morgan shook his head, shaggy blond hair swirling about his shoulders. “Not so much as an inkling. For me, that’s answer enough. He’s strong as well as crafty, to be able to shield himself from us.” “La bête doit être arrêtée avant qu'il se reproduise,” I all but whispered. The beast must be stopped before he reproduces. “Oh, I agree, ma petite.” Morgan shrugged again. “Do you not find the timing interesting?” “The timing…?” “After Katrina.” I was still drawing a blank and told him so. His fingers stroked my cheek. “Darling, it’s Darwinism at it’s best. What happens when you cull the weakest from the herd?”

20

India Masters

“Oh Blessed Danu,” I said, appalled at the thought. “Only those with the means evacuated, and only the strongest survived if they didn’t get out. It’s possible this beast is selecting his victims from the survivors.” I looked at Anton who merely nodded and pulled out his cell phone, punching a speed dial number. He spoke in hurried French and I heard him greet our friend Celine Moreau and ask for Fabiene Robichaud. “Very good, mon ami. Lillith will be glad to see Celine. Yes, we’ll wait here for you.” Morgan raised a wheat-colored eyebrow at Anton. “Robichaud? Are you forgetting he and I are not on the best of terms?’ Anton shrugged. “Tou as essayé de séduire sa femme.” I gaped at Morgan. “You tried to seduce Celine?” The vampire laughed softly. “Il ne traduit pas. Besides, she came on to me.” “It does translate, Morgan! Fabiene is crazy for Celine. You’re lucky he didn’t take your head off.” Beside me, Anton chuckled. “It’s not as if he didn’t try.” Morgan grinned. “That’s true. If not for Anton, I should be wandering the world as the Headless Horseman, scaring little children and swamp rats.” I snorted with disgust and elbowed Anton. “And you never mentioned this to me?” “Really, cher, I don’t tell you everything that happens here. And it’s not as though anyone was hurt.” I huffed and folded my arms across my chest. “Vous des hommes êtes des porcs. Tout le

toi.” Anton draped an arm across my shoulder and pulled me close. “Yes, cher, we men are pigs, all of us. And this pig loves you to distraction.” He dipped his head and nibbled on my ear and whispered to me. “Shall I prove it to you, my love? I could slip under this table and

The Soul Collector

21

lick that delicious pussy until you beg me to make you come, eh? Or I could slide my hand under your skirt and fuck you with my fingers. Maybe both?” It was Morgan’s turn to snort with disgust. “Really, the pair of you are too much to take. No one should be that much in love after all this time. What is he doing, ma petite, telling you how he will love you when you get home?” I uttered a strangled laugh as Anton’s arm left my shoulder and dropped beside me. His fingers teased my skirt up and dipped between my legs. Damn him, he was going to play with me while Morgan sat beside us chatting as though everything was completely normal! “So,” I squeaked. “When will Fabiene and Celine get here?” “Oh, not for an hour, at the very least, cher.” Anton hooked a finger around the silken crotch of my panties and pulled them aside. I swallowed a moan as he flicked my clit. We both saw Morgan’s nostrils flare as he inhaled. He knew. Oh Blessed Danu. He would think me a complete wanton. I licked my lips and gave him a seductive smile. “I smell sex,” Morgan said softly, inching closer to me. “What are you doing to her, Anton?” Anton flipped the tablecloth back to reveal his fingers buried in my pussy. He gave me a meaningful look and I closed my eyes in assent. “Care to join me, mon ami?” Morgan touched my shoulder. “Lillith?” I merely smiled and reached for his hand, guiding it between my legs. After all, it was Anton’s suggestion, and I loved Morgan. It was all the invitation he needed to move closer and reach beneath the tablecloth. He lifted my right leg and draped it over his left, allowing him greater access. Anton observed this and did the same, spreading me wide, covered only by the white tablecloth. “These panties need to go, Lillith,” Morgan murmured. “May I?” “But of course,” I said, opening my eyes to meet his gaze.

22

India Masters

The material cut into me as Morgan yanked the panties from my body. He tugged them from beneath me and stuffed them in his jacket pocket. “That’s much better, non?” Controlling my breathing was a chore as Morgan began to caress my inner thigh. “Your skin is like satin, ma beau. Anton is a lucky man.” I rolled my head to the left and met Anton’s eyes. “Yes, he is, aren’t you darling?” “The luckiest,” Anton agreed. “Perhaps when we are done with Fabiene and Celine, Morgan can come home with us and we can show him just how lucky I am.” I smiled. Sharing me was not something Anton took lightly. “Whatever you like, darling.” I looked at Morgan. “Would you care to join us later, Morgan?” Morgan’s fingers dipped into my pussy and pumped me several times. “I would adore it, love. And I can promise you, I won’t disappoint.” Having said that, he set a rhythm with his fingers as Anton massaged my swollen bud, both of them driving me to the edge of an exquisite orgasm, then pulling me back. “Ne vous arrêtez pas, damnez vous,” I cursed them. Don’t stop, damn you. But they did, stroking the sensitive flesh of my thighs, plying their fingers through my bush, tugging at my labial lips. I could feel my pussy weeping juice all over the seat. “Ah,” Anton said, and leaned toward Morgan. “The DJ returns. Once he gets going, no one will hear her cries of pleasure.” He looked at me then. “And you will cry out, cher.” “Yes,” Morgan confirmed. “And later tonight, you will scream.” My two men grinned at each other. I had to wonder what I’d gotten myself into with two such virile men. The DJ started out playing a heavy metal number guaranteed to burst the strongest eardrums. With the first guitar licks, Anton and Morgan began the work of tuning me up. Anton went back to work on my clit while Morgan played with my pussy. His index and middle fingers pumped into me while his ring finger stroked the sensitive flesh around my ass. I couldn’t help it, I began to moan.

The Soul Collector

23

Both men leaned forward as though having a conversation between themselves. In actuality, they were telling me what they intended to do to me when they got me home. “Have you ever had two men eat your pussy at the same time, ma petite?” Morgan asked. “I should very much like to share that experience with the both of you. Anton takes one side and I the other. We take turns licking that beautiful rosebud.” “This one, you mean?” Anton asked, then pressed hard against my clit. I moaned loudly. “The very one, mon ami. Then, one moves down to fuck you with his tongue, maybe slip a finger in your tight little ass. So, your clit swells like a ripe berry while another mouth, nibbles and sucks all around your pussy. I think she will like that, don’t you, Anton?” “She will love that.” At my audible moan, Anton applied more friction to my clit. “I believe she’s ready, Morgan.” “Ah, yes.” He stiffened his fingers and began to work them in and out of my cunt. Frankly, I was surprised there wasn’t smoke coming out of my ears. My hands moved restlessly, rubbing and squeezing each engorged cock pressing against the confining denim both men wore. “Don’t make a sound,” Morgan told me. “Not a peep, cher. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.” “Mmmm,” I moaned, wishing I could reach up and drag someone’s face down for a kiss. “That’s my girl,” Anton praised me. “Come on, now. Give it to us or I’ll have to throw you over this table and take you from behind.” That did it. I clenched my teeth and grunted as my pussy began to pulse around Morgan’s fingers. When he shoved his ring finger deeper into my ass, I yelped, “Oh!” Thankfully, the music was playing loudly enough that no one heard me. Thank goodness it was several minutes later before Fabiene and Celine joined us.

24

India Masters

Chapter Four

When Fabiene Robichaud and his girlfriend, Celine Moreau arrived, Anton rose to greet them. Fabiene was as tall and dark as Anton, his French ancestry evident in his manner as well as his look. Anton grasped his hand. “Mon ami, it has been far too long since we’ve seen one another.” He leaned down and placed kisses on both of Celine’s cheeks. Some of his Parisian habits would never die and locals found the double kiss quaint. He gestured for Celine to sit next to Lillith, then waited for Fabiene to take a seat beside her. “You remember Morgan Michaud?” Fabiene cocked his head. “Indeed,” he said, dryly. “Morgan, how are you?” Once again Morgan shrugged nonchalantly. “I am well.” Drinks were ordered all around. From the look of things, They were going to behave themselves and leave the past in the past. Which was fortunate for Morgan because Fabiene was a powerful witch and a member of the NOPD. Life could become very uncomfortable for anyone crossing Fabiene Robichaud. With the drinks delivered and small talk dispensed with, we got down to the business at hand.

The Soul Collector

25

“We asked you to come here because we have an idea about the rapes occurring on the Westside,” Anton began. “Then Morgan presented us with a theory we had not considered. We believe the Westside Rapist is an incubus and that he is raping these women in the hopes of impregnating them.” “To what end?” Celine chimed in. She was newly immortal, an adorable, brunette slip of a girl, and required instruction, which I was more than happy to provide. “To create what are called Crossbreeds, darling. Many supernatural creatures can take human form and impregnate fertile human women. In the case of an incubus, the progeny would possess both demon and human qualities. A powerful crossbreed made both Anton and Morgan, which is why they are able to eat human food and move around in the light.” “What kind of crossbreed?” Celine asked. “Are there so many?” “More than you might think, Celine. The creature who created Anton and Morgan is the worst kind -- his father was a powerful warlock, his mother a vampire. A very evil vampire who allowed herself to be lured into darkness. When the two mated, their offspring were gifted with an awful power. Crossbreeds are especially dangerous because they are essentially a mix of the entities that spawned them. If we are indeed dealing with an incubus he will possess the power of a demon along with the intellect and self-control of a human. If this monster impregnates strong, healthy, intelligent women, there is no telling what powers his offspring will possess.” “Ah.” She turned to Morgan. “And your theory on this, Morgan?” Morgan leaned forward, avoiding her eyes, to speak directly to Fabiene. “The women, is there anything special about them?” “Such as?” Fabiene asked. “What happened to them during Katrina? Did they have the means to evacuate and live comfortably while they were away? Or did they stay and do what it took to survive?”

26

India Masters

We watched as he considered the question. “This last one came from old Louisiana money. Bachelor’s from Tulane, Master’s from Stanford. Computer Software Engineering degrees. Very intelligent. And get this -- she was a virgin. Saw the evidence on the sheets myself. Poor girl was devastated.” “We must watch her closely, Fabiene,” Anton said. “No child must be allowed to come from this unholy union. And the other victims?” “All had the means to leave or the stamina to survive. You’re serious, you think that’s what’s going on here? Selective breeding?” I leaned forward and ticked off the evidence on my fingertips. “One, there is no visible means of entrance into the home. Two, the women awake from a dream while he’s fucking them. Three, they have extremely intense orgasms. Four, the assailant deposits copious amounts of semen into them. Five, the semen burns. I believe it is hot in order to facilitate the egg attaching to the uterine wall. Perhaps it prepares the lining of the uterus in some manner or another. Wealthy means healthy and surviving the storm shows the ability to adapt. I believe Morgan is right.” Having spoken my piece, I sat back and listened. In the end, it was decided that Robichaud would do background checks on all of the rapist’s victims. He would also provide the three of us with their names and addresses so we could pay them visits while they slept and check for any signs of impregnation. Should that occur, we would terminate the pregnancies while the victims slept. Saying our goodbyes, I clamped my lips together to keep from laughing when Celine reached over and squeezed Morgan’s cock. “Tell me you saw that!” Morgan exclaimed as we exited the club. I snorted, laughing. “I did see it.” I turned to Anton to explain. “Celine grabbed Morgan’s cock instead of shaking his hand.” Anton burst out laughing, much to Morgan’s chagrin.

The Soul Collector

27

“It’s well enough for you to laugh,” Morgan complained. “He didn’t try to take off your head. I told you the wench came on to me.” Anton and I doubled over with laughter. “You are just too pretty for your own good, Morgan,” I told him. “Now stop your complaining and come along. I want to stop at the cafe before we go home.” Anton wagged his eyebrows at me. “Better have a beignet too, ma petite. You’re going to need your energy.” “Really. You think I can’t handle you two pups? Remember, I’m ever so much older than both of you.” “Yes, you are, and very well preserved, I might add.” This earned him a playful slap on the arm. “You see how she treats me, Morgan?” He grabbed me and pulled me full against him, his hands grabbing my ass. “What you fail to reveal when you brag about your great age, my darling, is that you were a virgin when I first took you.” Morgan barked a laugh. “I believe you two are the most fun couple I know. Come along, I’m ready for a café au lait and a beignet.” I smiled and gave him a wink. He was too much the gentleman to say what else he was ready for, at least in such a public place as Jackson Square. We ordered our coffee to go and strolled up St. Anne Street to Chartres. We chatted as we nibbled our sugary treats and sipped the rich café au lait, eventually turning up Pirate Alley toward Royal. “So how is work coming on the old building?” Morgan asked. “Slow, as you will see momentarily, non? But I have a marvelous contractor and he is staying true to the history of the building.” “Well, that’s something, at least. And have you decided on tenants or not?” I shuddered at the prospect. “No tenants, mon ami. I like my privacy.” “Still, all that space for one person. Will you have shops on the ground floor?”

28

India Masters

“Non. That would defeat the purpose, and I don’t need the income. Why all the questions, darling? Do you need a place to live?” “Not really. I just find myself at loose ends since…” He shrugged and smiled. “I thought it would be nice to be near friends.” I looked at Anton and he shrugged as well. It seemed there was an epidemic of conversation through body language. Morgan was lonely and Anton would not object if I chose to rent to him. “Perhaps we could work something out. Let me talk to my contractor.” I placed my hand on his cheek. “The idea has merit, especially in light of what is happening in the city.” “Of course. I would not wish to intrude on your privacy, naturally.” “Naturally.” We turned the corner and let ourselves in through the locked courtyard gate. “Here we are, darlings. Allow me a moment to refresh myself?” I hurried up the stairs ahead of them. When I walked out of the bathroom, nude, Morgan smiled appreciatively. “Gentlemen, I thought you would have disrobed by now.” I walked slowly to Anton and squeezed his cock through his clothes. “Release the beast, cher.” Behind me, I heard Morgan chuckle and the sounds of clothes dropping to the floor. I kissed Anton, deeply, conveying my love for him, and turned to Morgan. I never had carnal thoughts about other men. Anton was all I needed, would ever need, in a partner, but I confess the moment I saw Morgan sans clothes, my pulse raced. He was a splendid specimen. Tall, like Anton, but with a heavier build that was all muscle. His shoulders were broad and strong, his arms honed from hours with weights. An artist could have sculpted his lightly furred chest. He was thicker through the waist and hips than Anton, but that had more to do with his general build than any accumulation of excess body fat. His cock was long and thick, extending nearly to his navel when fully erect, as it was

The Soul Collector

29

now. I took my time studying his form, nodding my appreciation. “How beautiful you are, Morgan,” I told him as I ran my hands across his chest. “And very well made, indeed.” Anton stepped up behind me, positioning me in front of the mirrored bathroom door. His hands moved around me to cup my full breasts, lifting them in offering to Morgan. His lips traced the line of my shoulder, moved to nibble at the crook of my neck, then up to nip at my ear. “Watch, cher.” His voice was soft, seductive, and as thick with desire as his cock pressing against my ass. I watched, hypnotized with fascination as Morgan knelt before me and started suckling at my breasts. His hands were free to roam my body while Anton held my breasts for him, and roam they did, stroking my belly, my hips, moving to caress my legs, easing them apart. He lifted one trim leg and placed it over his shoulder, and began to tease the skin of my inner thigh with his soft tongue. He avoided my pussy at all cost, eliciting a frustrated groan from me. He chuckled. “So anxious.” He looked up at Anton. “We promised her two men eating her pussy, my friend. We must not go back on our word.” He lowered my foot to the plush Aubusson carpet, pulling me close, resting his cheek on my belly. My eyes met Anton’s in the mirror and he grinned. “I know just the thing.” He crossed the room in a trice and returned with the Esse lounge and a scoop-shaped pillow, positioning them in front of the mirror. “For your comfort and viewing pleasure, Madame.” Ah, he was pulling out all the stops and using the sex furniture we had purchased on our last trip to Atlanta. He placed the scoop in the center of the curved chaise and positioned me so that my ass rested atop the higher end of the S-shaped lounge. I heard Morgan gasp when Anton pulled out the tethered cuffs and wrapped them around my ankles. He handed Morgan the wrist cuffs. “Put these on her and attach them to the sides of the chaise. We don’t want her wiggling around and distracting us, do we mon

ami?”

30

India Masters

Morgan’s voice cracked. “But of course not.” He attached the cuffs to my wrist, effectively securing my arms. “How deliciously naughty you two are. I had no idea.” I laughed softly, watching as he moved to the foot of the chaise. “Shall we enjoy our feast, my friend?” Anton dipped a handmade feather duster into a tin of honey-dust body powder he’d retrieved from the bedside table and lightly dispersed the silky-smooth concoction from my feet to my spread out thighs. He lifted my foot to his mouth and licked the instep before suckling my toes. Morgan watched for a moment, savoring my trembling reaction, and then began to feed on my other foot. How can I describe what I was feeling? Two hot, questing mouths, nibbled at my feet, spread me wider and began their slow, methodical jaunt to the delta between my thighs. Both were making greedy, sucking sounds which created a river of heated juices to flow from my very core. They hauled my ass to the edge of the chaise and raised my legs to position my feet just so. Anton placed a wedge shaped pillow beneath my shoulders to raise my upper body, allowing me to watch in the mirror. Then he opened a bottle of body oil and smiled seductively. “Cinnamon chocolate flavor.” He drizzled a small amount on his fingers and spread it around my swollen lips and anus. Morgan followed suit, massaging the spicy-sweet oil over my clit and into my cunt. Immediately, the tender flesh began to heat and I moaned. “Oh, yes” My gentle pleas spurred them to action. I watched as Anton inserted an oilslicked finger into my anus, working it deep into that narrow tunnel. I sighed again and murmured, “More.” Anton reached for Morgan’s hand. “The lady wants more.” Morgan licked his lips and slid his finger into my ass next to Anton’s. “Yes,” I sighed. “Oh, my beautiful lovers.” I gave myself up to the feel of their fingers working in unison, stretching me, fucking my sensitive anus as the cinnamon heated every inch of flesh between my legs.

The Soul Collector

31

Two tongues, silky soft, began their exploration of my burning pussy. Mouths opened to suckle my labial lips, pulling the folds inside. Their free hands opened me and they licked the soft inner flesh, beginning at the point where my ass was being so sweetly tended and moving leisurely upward. My clit was trapped in a tongue vice as each took one side and pressed against it, moving in concert. I made no attempt to hide my cries of rapture as their fingers pumped my ass and their mouths ravaged my pussy. I could feel my body preparing for a shattering orgasm. It was as if my pussy was swelling to twice its size. I could almost feel the very life’s blood of my body rushing to my cunt. The heat. Oh, the glorious heat. It radiated from deep in my belly outward. “Oh, blessed mother!” My hips jerked and tossed so that my men had to hold me in place lest I dislodge their thrusting fingers. My back arched and I rose off the cushion as far as the restraints would allow. “Oh, my Goddess!” I screamed. My entire body stiffened, paralyzed for a moment, then shuddered and shook as I came in an explosion of cream that was quickly lapped up by my two lovers. “Uncuff me now!” I demanded. Anton hurried to do my bidding and when he released my wrists, I pulled him to me for a passionate kiss. I rolled onto my stomach and patted the scoop in front of me. “I want your cock in my mouth,” I told Anton. “I want you to fuck my mouth until you come.” I was in the perfect position for Morgan to take me from behind. “I need you inside me, Morgan.” “My pleasure, Madame. Shall I coat myself with this oil and make you burn for my cock?” I laughed softly. “Do that, darling, then hand it to me. I believe Anton’s could use a little heat, too.” I poured the cinnamon-chocolate body oil in my palms and rubbed them together before grasping Anton’s cock in one hand and his balls in the other. He groaned as I worked the oil into his flesh. “Fuck her, Morgan. I want to see you slide into her.”

32

India Masters

I felt the head of Morgan’s cock penetrate the folds of my pussy and lowered my mouth to Anton’s. When Anton cried, “Now!” my pussy and mouth were breached at the same time. “Hard, Morgan,” I commanded, then went back to Anton’s twitching cock. Morgan was large and my cunt stretched to accommodate his size. Oh, lord, the feel of him plunging deep into me, then retreating and slamming into me again. I wouldn’t last long, could already feel myself building to a climax. I increased the suction on Anton’s cock and gently squeezed his sac, urging him closer to the edge. Both men mumbled to me -- “yes,

cher, suck it, suck it hard.” And, “Oh, your pussy’s so tight. Do you want it harder, cher?” I was too polite to talk with my mouth full, so I moved my hips hard against Morgan even as I took Anton deep into my throat. With a husky cry, Anton came, thrusting himself against me as he spilled his seed. I raised my head as my own orgasm overtook me. My cunt clenched around Morgan’s huge cock and he began to shout, plunging into me hard and fast as he shot his load deep inside me. He grabbed my hips and slammed into to me one final time. “Ah, yeah, fuck that’s good!” He slumped across my back wrapping his arms around both Anton and me. “Thank you, my friends,” he whispered. “Come shower with me, my loves,” I said, drowsily. “As much as I need sleep, I need a shower more.” Anton rose and padded to the bathroom, turning on the shower, as I gave Morgan a shove to get him moving. We took turns washing one another but, sexually sated, made quick work of the task. As dawn approached, Anton closed and shuttered the windows, drawing the heavy velvet drapes across them to plunge the room into darkness. Murmuring words of love and affection, we spooned around each other and slept.

The Soul Collector

33

Chapter Five

I woke in the twilight to find my leg thrown over Morgan’s hip, his cock buried to the hilt inside me as Anton maneuvered his hips beneath my backside and penetrated my ass. Their legs entwined and held me firmly in place. Anton grasped my breast, rolling the nipples between his fingers and they both began to move, thrusting into me slowly, teasing me fully awake with fingers and mouths. “Good evening, cher,” they said in unison. Anton traced light kisses across my back as Morgan thrust his tongue into my mouth, kissing me passionately. “Gentlemen,” I gasped when he broke the kiss. “Oh, blessed mother! Faster!” “Non, greedy girl,” Anton purred, caressing my ass. “Slow and easy does it.” They alternated their movement so when Anton withdrew, Morgan sank in deep, heightening the feeling to a degree I hadn’t known existed. Morgan wedged a hand between my legs and lazily circled my clit with his middle finger, pressing, flicking, and generally stimulating the sensitive bud until I was a quivering mass of nerve endings. I begged them to finish me, but they refused, whispering sweet words of love, telling me how they would fuck me slowly, gently, completely, until I was on the verge of screaming their names, only then would they give me what I needed.

34

India Masters

I pressed my face against Morgan’s chest, teased his skin with my tongue, nibbling and tugging until he reached for my chin and pulled my mouth to his. His kiss was very different than Anton’s. Morgan was rough, demanding, his kisses made my lips swell. Anton’s lips teased the sensitive skin on my back until I shivered. I was mumbling gibberish now, as my body twitched and jerked. Finally, blissfully, they increased their pace, their movements back in time once again. Penetrated, front and back, and unable to move of my own volition, they continued to pound into me. “Fuck me, Anton! Give it to me, Morgan!” At last, blessed relief took me, hurled me over the edge. “Come with me, my darlings!” They tumbled with me mere seconds later. We lay in a sweaty heap in the middle of the bed as our breathing returned to normal. “I’m hungry,” I told my two men. Morgan chuckled. “One can only imagine, ma petite. Shall I call for a delivery or do you want to go out.” “I want to shower and then go out. I sense something is afoot this night. We must be alert. Will you join us, Morgan, and help us ease the suffering?” “Certainement, ma petite.”

***** The faces of the patrons at Café Du Monde said it all. Something was amiss. “What happened?” Anton asked as the waiter brought our order. “There’s a fire at the sugar refinery out in Gallatin,” the waiter answered. “It just came on the news. No one knows how bad, but there are hundreds of workers on duty.” “How terrible.” Anton pulled his American Express card from his wallet and handed it to the waiter. “Tell Giles to have coffee and beignets delivered to the fire and rescue squads as long as needed. And to the workers and their families that gather there as well.” The waiter nodded and hurried back to the kitchen. He returned moments later with a message

The Soul Collector

35

that preparations were underway. He handed Anton his card. “Giles says to pay him tomorrow when you come for breakfast.” Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Anton. “For the entire fire and rescue squad, plus workers and families? Are you running for mayor, mon ami?” I gave Morgan a quelling look. “He seeks no personal gain from his generosity, Morgan. You of all people should know that. Every time there is a disaster, he does this.” Morgan had the good grace to look ashamed. “I meant no offense, cher. It was but a joke.” I smiled and touched his cheek. “I know. I suppose I am overly defensive when it comes to Anton. Forgive me, darling.” I tapped his cup with my index finger. “Finish your coffee, we must help the suffering.” We drained our cups and left our usual tip before departing. The streets were uncommonly quiet as we made our way westward through the Quarter. Shape changing came easy to Anton and Morgan, a simple thought and it was done. I, on the other hand, had to offer up a prayer to The Divine One. “Mother, hear my prayer! Let the winds of change raise up this body to do your will. Let the air that is your breath carry me to those in need this night. Bathe me in your radiant light that those who suffer may know your mercy.” Having spoken the words, I bent at the waist and ran my hands up my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, ending with arms extended above my head, palms together. White, hot light filled the air as the Divine One answered my prayer. Change achieved, we took flight, and headed to the sugar refinery. Anyone looking at the sky that night would see two pitch black ravens flying in the company of a white dove. The glow in the distance was visible from miles away. We landed in the parking lot behind the guard shack and materialized again. My protective shield would prevent anyone

India Masters

36

from seeing us enter the inferno, as well as protect my companions. I gathered them to me, offered a prayer to the Goddess for our protection and aid to the suffering. “You’re kidding me,” Morgan protested. “You expect us to walk into that hellhole?” “The fire will not harm you,” I assured him as we approached the main building. “Watch Anton; do as he does.” I took his hand and pulled him inside. The building was thick with acrid smoke and dark as the pits of Hell. None of this hampered us as we passed through the flames in search of living victims. “There!” I called to Anton and Morgan. “Under those beams.” We hurried to the injured workers and I scanned them to determine the extent of their injuries. “They are beyond help. I kneeled down beside the men, placing my hands on their heads. “Are you an angel?” one asked, reaching toward me. “I am your angel, cher, here to ease your suffering.” The man gave me a frightened look. “I’ve done things; I’m afraid to die.” I smiled. “Fear not. Do you regret your sins? “Yes.” “Do you ask your God for forgiveness?” “Yes.” I held my hand out to Anton. “He is ready, my love.” Anton lifted the man’s badly burned body and cradled him, placing him in a thrall. “Sleep now, friend. Your earthly woes are done.” The man turned his head, offering his neck. Anton’s canines elongated into needle-like fangs that he plunged into the man’s carotid artery. I took the man’s last breath into my body, one of many I would collect for Her this night. Morgan watched as Anton and I moved amongst the dying, staying close so I could be there to take each worker’s final breath into my body. As he became comfortable with the task, he ventured deeper into the factory, carrying the victims to me. The worst were those

The Soul Collector

37

near the boilers. Morgan carried one such man to me. “You should hear what he has to say before you free him, ma petite. I have placed him in a thrall so he does not feel the pain.” “What is your name, brother?” I asked. “Metisse. Etienne Metisse. I was the maintenance foreman in the boiler house.” “Can you tell me what happened here?” “Oui, lady. The main boiler, she is old, non? We have patched her more times than I can remember. I got records at home to show. The company, she ain’t gon spend the money for a new boiler. They killed us all, cher. You make them pay, eh?” I had a decision to make. Allow Anton to turn him so the victims of this disaster would receive justice, or allow him to depart this earth. For me, the decision was clear. Would the Divine One agree? I prayed for guidance. “Anton, come and turn him. He has work yet to do.” Anton rushed to my side. “He is badly burned, cher. Are you sure? Can you heal him?” “She will allow it. He has proof the fire was caused because of negligence.” He did not hesitate a moment longer but lowered his head and drank. Just before Etienne Metisse took his last breath, Anton opened a vein and let his blood drip into the young man’s mouth. A gasp of air filled his lungs and his eyes flew open. He latched onto Anton’s wrist and fed like a greedy pup. The newly made vamp did not want to give up his first taste of blood, but I placed my hand on his head and he released Anton. I held out my own wrist and allowed him to feed on my healing blood, though some of the scarring would always be with him. The impact of his accusations against the company would not stand if it appeared this young foreman left his men to be ravaged by the flames. He was Cajun, after all, and the bonds in that community ran deep, he would never have left them. “Cessez, débutant,” I scolded gently. Anton smiled. Cease, fledgling. I’d spoken the same words to him when I claimed him for my own. “Morgan will show you the way out. Tell the papers, tell the news channels. These

38

India Masters

deaths must be avenged. You will have no memory of us, Etienne, but we will find you before the next night falls.” As Etienne Metisse staggered after Morgan, Anton and I continued our gruesome work. Burning was a horrible way to die and we left no stone unturned searching for survivors. Those who died before our arrival would eventually make their way to The Divine One, and those who could live without hideous pain were taken to safer areas of the plant where rescue workers would find them. Morgan carried the broken bodies to me with the same tenderness he had shown while making love to me. It warmed my heart to know Morgan would receive redemption one day in return for his service to Her, for he had the taste for it now. We worked for hours, easing the pain of the suffering, and collecting the souls of those who would not live. Only those near death could see us, and to them, we were angels. As dawn approached, we had ministered to all those in need of our assistance, and walked from the building bone weary. Catering trucks lined one edge of the parking lot pouring coffee and serving hot beignets to exhausted firefighters and paramedics. Makeshift triage tents were set up to treat the victims of the fire and a temporary morgue stood in stark relief across the lot. We wandered out of sight and I knelt in prayer, summoning my mistress to retrieve her charges. As if from a dream, I heard someone gasp when the Goddess appeared, reaching into my chest to claim her souls. I slumped into Anton’s arms, sighing as he comforted me. I took a moment to recover before we changed again, and flew back to our home on Royal Street. I immediately filled the extra large spa tub with hot water and we all three climbed in, sighing as the jets eased the tension from our bodies. “Blessed Goddess, I’m tired,” I said, climbing out of the tub. I wrapped myself in a luxurious bath sheet, and handed one to each of my men. “See you in dreamland.” I kissed each one and practically dragged myself to the bed. They quickly joined me. Wrapped snugly in the center of my own man-sandwich, sleep took me immediately.

The Soul Collector

39

I dreamed I walked beside an expansive river lined in rich green grass. Danu walked along side me, praising me for the work we had done, ready to accept Morgan as a full supplicant if he chose to seek redemption.

40

India Masters

Chapter Six

We had breakfast at Cafe Beignet, another favorite haunt when we were in the mood for a more substantial morning meal. I ordered the Cajun hash browns, a savory concoction of andouille sausage, potatoes, bell pepper, and red onions, which was served with a generous portion of scrambled eggs and French bread. Anton ordered the omelet soufflé with grits, and Morgan indulged in their amazing Cajun style French Toast. Between our bouts of sexual acrobatics and the exhausting work at the sugar refinery, our bodies required substantial nourishment, although Anton and Morgan suffered less due to the intake of fresh blood they’d consumed the previous evening. After breakfast, Morgan and I walked with Anton to Café Du Monde, where he dutifully paid for his generosity. He signed the bill with a flourish then leaned down to give me a kiss. “I must be off,” he told me. “The accounting ledgers wait for no man.” He clasped Morgan’s shoulder. “Take care of my woman, mon ami, and listen to what she tells you.” Morgan gave me a quizzical look, but nodded to Anton. “Certainment, mon ami.” We took our seats at the cafe, huddled together with the newspaper as we sipped our coffee.

The Soul Collector

41

The news was all about the fire and accusations of negligence against Gallatin Sugar Company. The Times-Picayune interviewed Etienne Metisse. He did a marvelous job backing up his claims. His petite wife turned over copies of the paperwork Etienne had generated in the hopes of obtaining a new boiler for the refinery. The newspaper printed copies. Etienne, himself, was in serious but stable condition. The quote from the doctors said it was a miracle the man survived the flames. I squeezed Morgan’s hand. “Good job, darling. Finding Etienne will make a difference in the lives of those workers and their families. You’re responsible for that, you know. Danu would reward you for your service, should you choose to accept it.” Morgan cocked his head. “Ah, so this is what Anton meant when he advised me to listen to you.” He chuckled. “So, I am listening, ma petite. What does the Goddess wish of me?” I folded the paper and laid it on the table. “She would have you join us, of course.” “And become a do-gooder like you and Anton?” He gave me a mock shudder, then laughed when I scowled at him. “Where is your sense of humor, ma petite?” I folded my arm across my chest. “I do not joke when it comes to offering salvation to those whom I love.” He stared at me intently and I knew I had his attention. “And what does this salvation entail, ma petite?” “The chance to become human again, to grow old and die, to be welcomed into Danu’s embrace when the end comes.” Even as he laughed, I could see the pulse throbbing in his neck. “And why would I wish to die, ma petite, when this world is so infinitely interesting?” It was my turn to laugh. “Would you not like to have the chance to marry, have children, live as you were born to live? You have never taken an innocent life, not in all your hundreds of years. ” Morgan paled. “Such a thing is possible? She can do that?”

42

India Masters

“Of course.” “And why would she offer this to me? I have done none of the things you and Anton have done.” I nodded. It was a fair question. “She has ever watched you, Morgan. You have been in her service though you may not recognize it. Did I not see you on the same battlefields as I? Do you not restrict your feeding to those with less than stellar character?” He shrugged. “I was not an evil man when Raphiel made me. I saw no reason to become one when he turned me. Immortality requires a certain degree of restraint.” I cupped his cheek with my hand. “As She is more than aware. You were not compelled to behave honorably, yet you have. Danu would reward such behavior.” Morgan smiled as I released his stubbled cheek. “You know I would join you without being rewarded.” “Yes.” “Then I accept. What must I do?” I sighed, overjoyed he had accepted. “Take the fledgling under your wing. Teach him the way. As soon as he is ready, She will make the two of you soul collectors.” Morgan reached for his cup and took a sip. “Overworked, are you?” I laughed. “You might say that.”

***** Darkness fell by the time the three of us ghosted into West Jefferson Medical Center. Among the three of us, we were able to shield ourselves from the staff. All they could feel when we passed by was a slight disturbance of air. Ever the jokester, Morgan pranced down the hall behind a pretty young nurse, grabbing her ass then doubling over with laughter when she uttered a startled yelp. When she turned to see who had goosed her, she saw no one, prompting yet another guffaw.

The Soul Collector

43

I rolled my eyes and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down the hall. “Really, you are so juvenile it’s hard to believe you’ve been around over a millennium.” Morgan dutifully followed in my wake, but looked over his shoulder at Anton. “How do you stand it when she gets all sanctimonious like this? Anton snorted. “This is nothing, mon ami. Wait until you really fuck up.” “Danu save me,” I rolled my eyes again. Etienne Metisse’s room was bathed in the glow of the flickering television, but he looked up when we walked inside. He was wrapped in bandages to protect his burns. “Who are you?” he asked. “You have to be sterile to come in here. The nurses say so.” I walked to the edge of his bed and smiled down at him. “My name is Lillith.” I gestured to my companions. “This gentleman is my mate, Anton. The blond man is Morgan, and he will be your guide for your upcoming journey, should you choose to participate.” He looked at me suspiciously. “You see me covered in bandages, eh? Where do you think I am going?” I briefly placed my hand on his forehead. “You may remember now, Etienne.” He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them to study the three of us intently. He pointed at Morgan. “You carried me from the boiler room.” He looked at Anton and me. “You drained me, and you, lady, healed me.” “Yes,” I said softly. “Do you know what you are, Etienne?” His voice quavered. “You have damned me, lady! You have all damned me! The undead will never see heaven!” I moved to sit on the foot of his bed and gave him a gentle smile. “No, Etienne, you are far from damned. You were saved from the fires to right the wrongs that caused so many to die. Because you were meant to die in the conflagration, The Divine One offers you a choice. You may follow your destiny and seek death from your injuries, or you may become one of us.”

44

India Masters

He was frightened. He watched as his nurse entered the room to change his IV bag, never noticing us as she performed her task and departed. “What are you if not some kind of voodoo demons?” “Anton and Morgan, as you know, are vampires. But they are unique amongst those creatures, chosen by the Goddess Danu to assist me in my work. I am a soul collector. My task is to collect the souls of the dying and return them to Her.” Tears rolled down his face, soaking into the bandages. “Then you have come to kill me?” I reached for his hand. “Only if that is your choice, Etienne. Either of my companions can release you, and I will deliver your soul to Danu. Or, you can choose to take the next step, become immortal, and serve the Goddess as a soul collector.” The alarms on the machines monitoring him began to sound and I silenced them with a wave of my hand. “But my wife, my family. How can I live without them? How do I sleep in a coffin and feed on blood?” Morgan stepped forward and I moved away. “We are not those kinds of vampires, mon

ami. Anton and I can walk in the light, though at times we must wear dark glasses. We eat as normal humans do, sleep in regular beds. We have sex.” He leaned down and smiled. “We do not feed on the innocent, and we only take the lives of the truly evil or those destined to die lingering, painful deaths.” At last, the light of understanding lit Etienne’s face. “So, you took them before the flames could consume them?” “Yes,” Morgan confirmed. “And Lillith gave them one last kiss, taking their souls as they left their bodies, delivering them to Danu.” “Will you join us?” I asked. Etienne struggled with the idea for another long moment, and then nodded. “But what of my family? My wife, my children?”

The Soul Collector

45

“ You must feed, cher.” I stepped closer to him and offered my wrist. “Come, my blood will heal your scars, fledgling.” He gave me a look of longing, mixed with revulsion. Surprise registered on his face when he opened his mouth and his canines extended. His bandaged hands reached for my wrist and brought it to his mouth. Sharp fangs pierced my flesh and he began to feed. When he was done, I leaned down and kissed his peeling lips. “The healing has begun, Etienne.” I looked at Morgan and bade him take my place at the head of the bed. “Morgan will instruct you and answer your questions. As for your family, you will have the power to shield them from what you are, if that is your choice. No one will notice that you do not grow old. Should you choose to tell them, you must be prepared to deal with the consequences. Some families are able to adjust, others cannot. In time, Danu will release you from her service, returning you to your mortal form.” Etienne nodded, unable to take his eyes from me. “You are real, lady? This is really happening?” “Yes, Etienne, I am real. We are all real.”

46

India Masters

Chapter Seven

With Morgan’s time being taken up by his responsibilities to Etienne, Anton and I were able to get back to our familiar routine. Newspaper headlines continued to blast the New Orleans Police Department for its inability to capture the Westside Rapist. Five more attacks had occurred while we’d dealt with the fire and the aftermath of Etienne’s turning. We sat at our usual table at Café Du Monde, sipping our coffee and reading news coverage of the rapes. Three of the five lived in the Garden District. All were wealthy, educated, and healthy. As far as the last two victims were concerned, police downplayed any connection to the serial rapes. Those poor women had been found raped and murdered, their throats torn out. My hands shook as I read the story of the murders and, as lead detective, Fabiene’s denials that the perpetrator was the same monstrous predator. “Their throats torn out,” I said, barely able to speak above a whisper. “Has someone gone over to the dark side? Anton shook his head, opened his cell and immediately called Morgan. A brief conversation assured us that all was well with Morgan’s charge. “Try Fabiene again,” I urged.

The Soul Collector

47

“He will not call, cher,” Anton said softly. “He hasn’t responded once since these last attacks.” “Celine?” He closed his phone. “Also, will not return her calls.” “Surely you don’t think Celine had anything to do with these murders.” I desperately wanted Anton to deny any thought that the newly made immortal could be responsible. “I don’t know, cher. She is very young and the young ones turn easiest to darkness. It worries me that neither she nor Fabiene will return my calls.” He pushed back his chair and rose with a sigh. “I grow weary of this life, Lillith. I only wish She would release us so we could spend the rest of our time on a beautiful beach somewhere. I’m tired of the bitter taste of blood. I want to sip a fruity rum drink and make love to you in the sunshine.” He pulled out my chair then wrapped his arms around me. Melancholy was not a normal state for my lover, and I was moved to tears. I pressed my body tightly against him and murmured words of love. “Take me home, Anton. Make love to me.” He smiled and set me away from him. With his thumbs, he wiped away my tears then pulled my face to his for a kiss. His tongue parted my lips, dipping in to gently explore my mouth. It was a long, slow kiss that reached depths in me long forgotten. I’d been fourteen years old when Danu took me. There had been no time for a young girl’s yearning for love. No stolen kisses in the moonlight behind the backs of my parents. No dreams of babies held in my arms. Instead, I’d endured years of loneliness, a lifetime drenched in the blood and pain of humans who had long since stopped believing in anything but their own selfish desires. I, too, was tired, I realized. We separated and he took me by the hand, leading me home. Neither of us spoke as we strolled through the Quarter. I was remembering the first time I laid eyes on Anton. He was being held in the steely grasp of the vampire, Raphiel. The

48

India Masters

evil creature had torn the clothes from Anton’s body, viciously penetrating him with his cock and his canines. It had been Anton’s cries of agony that had drawn me to Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris. I had taken to haunting the cathedrals and churches of Paris in the hopes of finding Raphiel, for I’d had it on good authority that he took perverse delight in feeding on the faithful. Such proved to be the case that night. Had I been a moment later in my arrival, Anton would have been lost to me.

“Cessez, vous petite morveux de l’obscurite!” Cease whelp of darkness. Raphiel released his hold on his victim, gave him a shove and watched impassively as the man fell to the ground. “I do not care for the taste of women, wench,” Raphiel had growled in poorly spoken French. “But since you see fit to interrupt my meal, I will make an exception.” His movements were lightening fast and he had me in his grip before I could respond. Fortunately, for me, the monster had no inkling of the powers I wielded. He was surprised when I went into his arms willingly, wrapping him in my embrace. I closed my eyes, uttered my maker’s name, and my body was instantly enveloped in white-hot light. Raphiel screamed in agony, trying to escape my clutches, but already his body was melting into mine. As he opened his mouth to scream for the last time, I inhaled, taking his dark spirit into my body. I fell to the ground, writhing in pain. His blackness tore at my own soul as Raphiel struggled to stay within me. His fear of The Divine One was palpable. I remember my own agony as Danu reached into my chest to retrieve this coveted prize. How he had managed it, I’ll never know, but an almost mortally wounded Anton had crawled to my side in an attempt to save me. His breath gurgled in his chest as he held me.

“Fille idiote, qu'avez-vous fait?” he whispered. Foolish girl, what have you done? Tears spilled from his eyes as my body convulsed. Raphiel did not go quietly into Her hands, but in his own suffering, Anton’s tried to soothe mine.

The Soul Collector

49

I looked at him, awed by the fact that he would offer me comfort when he was dying. His beautiful face was as pale as the moon, and blood continued to gush from his wound. “Hear me, Mother!” I cried. “I choose this man for a mate!” “So be it,” came the response from above. “Heal him, soul collector and he will be yours.” I thrust my wrist against his lips and implored him to feed. My blood could not reverse the curse Raphiel foisted on him, but it could cleanse him of the darkness of the creature who made him. He resisted, repelled by the idea of drinking human blood. “Feed, fledgling or you will wake to find yourself a fiend like Raphiel.” It stung when his fangs sank into my wrist, but I did not pull away. I watched as he fed on my healing blood. The skin on his neck closed, knitting together. “Cease, fledgling.” These are the very same words I had spoken to Etienne. He released me, looking at me as though I was some kind of monster. “There was no other choice for you, sir. Only damnation awaited you, though you were a victim of Raphiel. Did you not feed on sanctified blood, you would wake to find yourself the same kind of creature as he who made you. Judge me as you will, novice, but you are mine now. We must leave this place before we are discovered and they burn us as witches.” The jingle of Anton’s keys brought me out of my reverie. We were home, the gurgle of the courtyard fountain a welcome sound to ears that could still hear the distant cries of the past. I didn’t realize I’d been crying until Anton pulled me close. “What’s this, cher?” He stroked my hair, making shushing noises as though I was a baby to be comforted. “Why the tears?” His arms tightened around me as I shuddered. “I was remembering that night at Notre Dame. Do you not mourn the man you once were?” He rocked me back and forth. “Listen to me, cher. I do not regret a day that has passed since you came into my life.”

50

India Masters

“Yes, but…” “Non, there are no buts. If not for you, I would have been no different from Raphiel. I would do it all again just for the opportunity to spend eternity in your arms. Surely you know this?” I tipped my head back, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. What I saw shook me to the core, for it was the purest love any woman could imagine. “I love you,” I whispered. He rested his forehead against mine. “And I you, cher.” Before I could tear up again, he put his cheek next to mine and danced me toward the stairs, singing my favorite song, The Way You Look Tonight. He had no voice for singing, but to me he sounded like Sinatra, and as we climbed the stairs, I knew that as long as this man was by my side, I could take the worst life could throw at me. “Do you know what I remember about the night we met?” Anton asked as we slowly undressed. “What?” “I remember going back to that little cottage on the outskirts of Paris. It smelled of wood smoke and herbs. You were so shy, and embarrassed to tell me you’d never been with a man before.” He came up behind me and slid his arms around me, kissing my neck. “I was so afraid of hurting you, even though I knew you had these amazing abilities. For all I knew, you could turn me into a frog if you didn’t like the way I made love to you.” I laughed and turned in his arms, skin to skin. “As I recall, I very much liked the way you made love to me.” “Yes, you did.” He took my face in his hands and pressed a kiss against my lips. “I think I shall make love to you like that tonight. Gently, thoroughly, and all night long.” He kissed me again, tugging on my lower lip very gently, before allowing his tongue to brush against mine.

The Soul Collector

51

A woman could very easily lose herself in Anton’s kiss. His lips were soft and full, slanting over mine. He tasted the inside of my lips, my teeth, the roof of my mouth, making hungry, sighing sounds as he deepened the kiss, his tongue mating with mine. His fingers grazed my cheeks and neck, tracing my skin with a whisper-light touch. Every nerve ending twanged like a violin string plucked by a master musician. Unlike the first time he’d made love to me, his touch held no hesitancy. His hands drifted down my bare back, caressing me until they came to rest on my ass, cupping me tightly against him. Hard and ready, he continued to kiss me until I begged him to make love to me. “Prends Moi. Me faire l'amour.” Take me. Make love to me. They were the same words I’d spoken that first night. He lifted me, carrying me to the bed we’d shared for so many, many years. He laid me in the middle and followed me down to take one of my breasts in his mouth. I sighed as his tongue and teeth tormented me, coaxing the nipple to full tumescence. My other breast received equal attention from his questing fingers as he stroked the sensitive underside and gently kneaded my flesh. I moaned as his mouth and fingers tweaked my nipples, my legs falling apart in invitation. Anton chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated against my nipple. His hand left my breast and traveled to my pussy, fingers combing through the coarse tangle of hair to dip into me. “How lovely and wet you feel, cher,” he murmured. “I hunger for the taste of you.” He shifted his body to lay between my open thighs, teasing them farther apart with his magical fingers. His light touch drove me mad as he caressed the delicate flesh at my very core. His index fingers delved beneath my labial lips, tracing the entire opening before sliding each one into my cunt, spreading me. My hips jerked as his tongue penetrated me. He lapped at the juices he’d set to flowing before he began his foray to my clit.

52

India Masters

“Oooh,” I cried as he took the sensitive button between his lips. Again, his laughter vibrated against me and my back arched, thrusting me against his mouth. His fingers left me and moved to give him better access to my clit. Now he began to feast. Thank God, we had no neighbors for I howled and wailed as Anton laved me with the flat of his tongue. I begged him to take me but he merely disciplined my wantonness by suckling that swollen bud again, pulling it between his lips to flick with the tip of his tongue. When he finally allowed to me to come, I yauped and yawled like a cat in heat. My fists pounded the bed and my hips levitated off the mattress, thrusting against his hungry mouth as I hollered his name. He gave me a moment to calm, and then impaled me. Still sensitized, I came twice more as his cock drove into me with slow, steady thrusts calculated to send me screaming over the edge. My hands grasped his ass, urging him on as my body shuddered. His own release came upon him and I whispered to him. “Hard. Fuck me hard. Come with me.” He slammed into me twice more, and then he roared in relief as he emptied himself inside me. As we lay entwined, Anton stroked my shoulder. “Have you never wished for children,

cher? For a big, noisy family to fill up the house?” I nearly stopped breathing. We had always avoided talk of a family. The sense of foreboding that filled me made me shudder in his arms. “The thought has never been far from my mind, Anton, but what good does it do to yearn for that which you may not have?” His voice, heavy with bitterness, spoke what we had both been thinking. “It is not fair that we’ve given up so much and gained so little. Danu is a harsh mistress.”

The Soul Collector

53

I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. “Perhaps, but we have had more than a lifetime together, cher. We share the kind of love that people write epic poems about. If I had to choose between what I have with you, and a big noisy family, I would choose you. Every time, I would choose you.”

54

India Masters

Chapter Eight

Twelfth Night arrived and with it the official beginning of the Mardi Gras season. The Westside Rapist had not been identified nor did the police have a viable suspect. As luck would have it, none of the women who had survived the attacks were pregnant. The killings, however, continued and the city was in a panic. Guns were flying off the shelves and there were long waiting lists for self-defense classes. The FBI had been called in to provide a profile of the killer or killers. The official NOPD line was that the murders were the work of an entirely different individual. Anton, Morgan, and I knew better, but it did no good to voice our opinions to Fabiene. He refused to believe it. There was even some debate as to whether Mardi Gras should be canceled, but it came to naught. New Orleans was trying to rise from the floodwaters of Katrina and the increased tourism from Mardi Gras would bring much needed dollars to the coffers of local businesses. As one of the original Twelfth Night Revelers, Anton’s obligations to the krewe that sponsored the first party of the season meant, we would attend one of the first masked balls of the season. Because my tastes often ran contrary to what would be considered appropriate to the crème de la crème of New Orleans society -- I had a penchant for Goth designs when playing dress-up -- Anton had my ball gowns made by a British designer. Tonight’s offering

The Soul Collector

55

was an Elizabethan creation, an eighteenth century corseted wonder of gold and silk brocade. The bodice, laced tightly, gave me the illusion of a much smaller waist and my breasts looked ready to spill over the top. Gold colored pearl beads underscored the pleated breast plates, which had a beaded cross between them. While the gown was strapless, it featured detachable gauntlet sleeves, the tops of which finished in a point above the middle fingers of my hands. The gown boasted a full skirt plumped with several petticoats. I held tightly to the bedposts as Anton tugged on the bodice lacing, hissing a curse. I thought my days of wearing corseted gowns had long since passed. “No wonder the women of your time were such empty-headed bits of fluff,” I complained. “Their laces were so tight it deprived their brains of oxygen.” Behind me, Anton chuckled. “That could never happen to you, cher. Besides, it’s not laced as tightly as I used to lace you and I adore the way your breasts plump up. Once again, I will have to hold your suitors at bay with threats of dire consequences. I could eat you up.” I snorted inelegantly. “You could do that simply by staying at home, my love.” “And miss all the covetous looks I get when I walk into the ball with you on my arm? Perish the thought!” He swatted my silk covered ass, and turned me to face him. “It’s a shame those expensive drawers don’t have the opening between the legs. I could take you into an alcove and fuck you while your skirts billowed round us.” I laughed softly and reached out to stroke him over the material of his tuxedo trousers. “Yes, it is a shame. I expect I will be too tired and out of breath to accommodate you once we get home.” “Is that so?” he said with a growl. He spun me around and yanked the cream-colored material down to my ankles and shoved me against the footboard. I licked my lips in anticipation when I heard his trousers unzip and hit the floor.

56

India Masters

“I’ll just have to fuck you now, my lady.” He kicked my legs apart and reached between them, to ready me. “I remember taking you like this at one of Marie Antoinette’s galas in the palace ballroom.” His cock was hard and pulsing as it prodded the lips of my pussy. I inhaled sharply as the large, smooth head entered me. He stopped right there and laughed when I demanded more, knowing how frustrated I became when he denied me his full length at once. He reached around and softly stroked my clit, awakening it but not fully. “I can feel your pussy squeezing me, cher. It wants me badly.” He gave me another inch, laughing when I moaned. “You’re such a horny bitch. I’d love to spread you out on one of their fancy banquet tables and let them all watch while I feed on you, then fuck you ’til you scream.” He advanced a bit more. “Those tight-assed society bitches have no idea how to please a man.” He held me still, stopping my attempts to thrust back against him. “And the men have no idea how to please a woman, eh cher?” I uttered a loud cry as he bent his knees and thrust up into me, filling me completely. I held tightly to the foot rail as Anton’s cock pounded me. His cries came husky and harsh as I met each thrust, ramming myself back onto his rock hard cock. “Come on!” he shouted. “Give it to me, cher.” I kept up the pace he set. “Take what you want.” My pussy began to contract around him and he pumped harder as I sobbed his name. And then, he was there, his final thrusts drawing me to my tip toes as his own release ripped through him. He buried himself to the hilt, hands on my breasts, squeezing. He pressed against me and dropped kisses on my shoulders. “Ah, God, you’re incredible, cher. I think I can manage that blasted party now.” I laughed softly as he disengaged from me. “Me too, darling.” I turned and he drew me into his arms for a long, lingering kiss before we finished dressing.

*****

The Soul Collector

57

We rarely drove anywhere in the city, but taking a streetcar to the garden district in full formal regalia was a bigger challenge than I cared to pursue. Anton called for a limo, and it delivered us to the prestigious address at a fashionably late hour. The butler introduced us as Anton and Lillith Baudet. Though no marriage certificate bound us, we let society go on thinking what they wished. We greeted our host and hostess and Anton seated me, hurrying to fill our plates at the elegant buffet. I snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing server. The only time we ever drank was during the round of social events precipitated by Mardi Gras. Invites to the krewe balls are not easy to come by and to be included you had to either be a member or be invited by a member. Morgan had been our guest to the Twelfth Night Revelers Ball for the past ten years, Fabiene and Celine for the last two. When the stunning couple entered the ballroom, heads turned. They all knew Fabiene because of his status as the most competent detective on the police force, as well as our friend. Celine had come out at this very ball some ten years ago, and though it was difficult to know her well, we liked her. Anton squeezed my hand as they made their way to the table. He stood, greeting them as he always had, with a handshake for Fabiene and kisses on the cheek for Celine. Fabiene turned to me and greeted me by raising my hand to his lips, grazing my knuckles with a very proper kiss. “Lillith, dazzling as always.” I nodded, acknowledging, the compliment. “And you two turn heads wherever you go. It’s good to see you again.” “So, where is that trouble maker, Morgan?” Fabiene asked, smiling. He pulled out a chair for Celine and seated her. “He should be along soon,” Anton answered. “He prefers to make an entrance, as you well know.” Fabiene chuckled. “Indeed.”

58

India Masters

I turned to Celine. “Darling, I’ve been calling all week. Shame on you for not getting back to me. Suppose we’d worn the same gown to the ball?” Celine offered a wan smile. She looked pale and drawn. “I doubt that would ever happen, Lillith, for Anton will not give Fabiene the name of your dressmaker.” I casually grasped her right hand, admiring the sapphire ring she wore. “How lovely!” I could see her struggling not to wrench her hand from my grasp. Did she know I could sense her feelings by touching her? She disengaged her hand from mine and held it out in front of her, inspecting the large stone. “It is lovely, isn’t it? Fabiene gave it to me just tonight.” She promptly dropped both hands to her lap and looked around the room. “Well, I see the usual crowd is here. How many debutantes will be coming out tonight, Anton?” “I believe we have fifteen tonight, cher.” He smiled. “I remember when you were one of them, so delicate and lovely in your white dress.” Had she been capable of doing so, Celine would have blushed at the compliment. Instead, she offered a smile that showed her slightly elongated canines. Celine was hungry. Anton rested his arm across the back of my chair and leaned in to nuzzle my ear. I laughed softly, letting everyone think he’d just said something naughty to me. “We must keep a sharp eye on our little vampire tonight, cher. It would seem she looks for prey amongst her peers.” I allowed myself a delicious shiver as his tongue traced the outline of my ear, and turned my head to press my lips against his. Morgan arrived at that very moment, escorting a pixie of a girl whom he introduced as Therese Sicard. I acknowledged the girl with a smile. We French did tend to band together. “How is Etienne?” I asked Morgan as he leaned down to kiss my cheek.

The Soul Collector

59

“He is fine, ma petite. Home with the wife tonight. I would have brought him but I chose a more captivating companion. Therese just moved to the crescent city from Baton Rouge.” Somehow, we made it through dinner, though the conversation lagged and our guests acted strangely subdued. Try as I might, I was unable to engage Celine in any meaningful conversation. She ate nary a bite, saying the excitement of the night had stolen her appetite. Her eyes constantly scanned the room. Normally a big eater, Fabiene, too, had no appetite, furthering our suspicions that something was amiss with our friends. Finally, our hosts declared the season open and led the way to the ballroom where the bouquet-toting debutantes stood waiting on the landing of a grand double stairway. Lining the stairs, young men waited to escort the ladies, two apiece for each girl -- one from an esteemed military prep school and the other a member of southern society, thirty in all, dressed in a variety of military uniforms and tuxes. As a girl’s name was called, her two escorts stepped to her side, each offering her an arm to lead her down the stairs where she was officially introduced to society. Introductions complete, the ball commenced. The ballroom was a sea of white as the girls danced with their beaux and the adults stood off to the side, smiling fondly. Despite the cool of the evening, they had thrown open the French doors and couples strolled outside to enjoy a breath of fresh air. Morgan and I watched as Fabiene and Celine stepped out and made their way to the formal gardens. I caught Anton’s eye and stared at the door, indicating I intended to follow. He nodded and turned back to his conversation with one of the krewe members. He would be along as soon as possible. From the verandah, I watched Fabiene lead his beloved onto a path that led deep into the formal rose garden. Taking a deep breath, I walked casually in their direction. They were so quiet, I would have run into them had I not heard Fabiene scolding Celine. “Not here, Celine!” he said.

60

India Masters

“But I want her,” Celine declared. “Besides, she deserves it. She always treated me as though I were beneath her.” “Fine, take her, ma petite, just not here, not now.” “But I’m hungry, Fabiene.” I could picture the look on her face as she spoke to him. She would be pouting, looking up at him with those large blue eyes, entreating him to let her have her way. “Then let’s go,” Fabiene insisted. “There will be revelers aplenty along Bourbon Street.” “Oh, all right!” Celine huffed. “But I grow weary of drinking the blood of drunkards. It gives me a headache.” I heard the swish of skirts and nearly panicked. I was too close, they would see me, even if I nipped into a nearby alcove. Just in the nick of time, a hand closed around my arm and I was dragged into that alcove and hauled onto Anton’s lap. “Laugh or moan, cher,” he urged, thrusting his hand beneath my skirt. His finger found me and I did moan, then he bent me back over his arm and thrust his tongue into my mouth. A shadow hovered just outside the alcove and we knew they watched us, wondering. “Take me home, Anton,” I said in a husky voice. “I need you inside me.” The shadow moved. Fabiene cleared his throat. “I suggest you take her home, mon ami, before you discover, as we have, that the gardens are filled with young people seeking a quiet place to play.” “Oh!” I said, pretending at being startled. Then I wrapped my arms around Anton’s neck. “Yes, cher, police orders. Take me home.” Fabiene chuckled. “Indeed. And we shall do the same.” Grasping Celine’s arm, he propelled her down the path. I looked at Anton and he shrugged. Only time would tell if we had fooled them or not.

The Soul Collector

61

Chapter Nine

“No! I refuse to believe it! He couldn’t be so foolish, Anton!” “Then give me another explanation!” I shoved open the French doors and looked out onto the streets below. Stricken by the thought of the brutal double murder that occurred last night, I could barely whisper. “I cannot.” Below me, the streets teemed with life. We were well into Mardi Gras and the city was filling with people. The population would more than double by Fat Tuesday, less than four days away. Barricades were already in place throughout the Quarter and parking was by permit only, unless one was a resident. Thousands of people filled the streets to watch parades of fantastical floats, adorned in the traditional Mardi Gras colors of purple, green, and gold, pushing and shoving to grasp at beads and trinkets being tossed by the riders. Costumed people cavorted in the streets accompanied by marching bands. Street vendors lined the corners selling everything from inflatable plastic crayfish to Mardi Gras-colored Dr. Suess hats. Rich scents filled the air as vendors and locals barbecued. And everywhere, hands held geaux cups, Orleanian for gocups, filled with their favorite intoxicating beverage.

62

India Masters

I sighed as Anton’s arms circled my waist. “We must be absolutely certain before we move against him,” I said. “Mais naturellement.” But of course. The words were murmured against my cheek. “Come inside, cher. Brooding over these people will not help and we have yet another function to prepare for.” I nodded and let him lead me inside. Anton shut the doors and leaned back against them. “Lillith.” His voice was husky and I turned to see him undressing. “Take off your clothes.” He moved to take a seat on the chaise lounge, stretching out until he was comfortable. He was gloriously naked and his hard on jutted up enticingly. I licked my lips and disrobed. I straddled him, ready to lower myself onto his straining cock, but he grasped my ass and hauled me forward to sit on his chest. He raised his legs, and placed his feet at the high end of the S-shaped chaise. “Reach back and put your hands on my knees, cher,” he growled. “You’re going to need all the support you can get.” I reached back, grabbing his knees as he yanked me against his hungry mouth. His arms curled around my thighs, forcing them wider as he savored me. He had yet to shave and the stubble on his chin and cheeks rasped against my tender flesh, setting me ablaze. This was no gentle tasting; his lips and tongue pillaged my pussy, thrusting and sucking until my cries could be heard from the street. Someone below hollered, “Yo, fuck her good, dude!” “Excellent idea,” Anton rumbled. “I think I’ll do just that.” He moved from beneath me and hauled me to the end of the chaise, lifting my legs ’til they rested over his shoulders. “Hang on to your hat, cher, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” He lunged, burying himself to the hilt.

The Soul Collector

63

It was rough, angry sex: the kind we had when the nature of our work overwhelmed us. He grasped my ankles and spread my legs apart, watching as he fucked me. “Look at you,” he rasped. “God, I love watching your pussy swallow me. Turn over, cher, and let me fuck you from behind.” He released my legs and I hastily did his bidding, leaning over the humped end of the lounger, ass in the air. He drove himself into me with a force, his balls slapping against me. His hands on my hips controlled me, holding me so I could not meet his thrusts with my own. I would come his way or not at all. As his pace increased, I felt my body tense. He would make me come, all right, loud and hard. “Blessed Goddess!” I shouted. My toes curled and my fists pounded the sides to the chaise as I came. My body burned with heat as he slammed into me one last time, his voice harsh as he followed me into the inferno. He sank to the floor, pulling me with him, and curled himself around me. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish with Celine, Lillith. Fabiene will defend her if he feels she’s threatened.” I reached around and stroked his cheek with my hand. “When have I ever been foolish?” “Let me count the ways.”

***** The theme for the Hermes mask was the Middle Ages myths and legends and once again I was tormented by a corset dress. Made of deep red, crushed velvet, the bodice was an off-the-shoulder style, trimmed in gold embroidered ivy and heavily boned to push the breasts up and together. Since my breasts were already full, the cleavage created was impressive. The slash sleeves were beautifully made, boasting gold organza undersleeves and more embroidery. The skirt had a moderate train, made less conspicuous by the number of petticoats Anton insisted I wear beneath it.

India Masters

64

“I swear, I believe you’d have us living back in Dark Ages were such a thing possible,” I grumbled. “Nonsense. I couldn’t live without Café Du Monde.” He gave the lacing one last tug eliciting a gasp from me. “Remember your promise, Lillith.” I looked over my shoulder, scowling at him. “It’s possible they weren’t invited.” “Not my point, as you well know.” He tied off the ribbon lacing and turned me to face him. “I don’t want you hurt.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him. “No one can hurt me, cher, unless She allows it. Now, finish dressing so we can get this blasted party over with.” I couldn’t help notice how handsome Anton looked as he took my hand to assist me from the car. His Middle Ages garb fit him perfectly. The soft quilted black and gold brocade waistcoat was trimmed in the finest black velvet. The lapels and split cuffs decorated with etched metal buttons. The black suede trousers laced at the calves, just below the knees. Over the knee, cuffed boots of fine-grained leather completed the look. “You will be the handsomest man at the ball,” I told him as he tucked my hand to his elbow. His thousand-watt smile made my knees weak. “And you will be the belle of the ball,

cher.” We circulated, greeting friends and acquaintances. Waiters moved through the crowd making sure everyone had a full glass of champagne and offering hors d'oeuvres. Anton stopped to discuss business with one of the attendees and I wandered alone, chatting amiably with any and all who stopped me. And then, I saw her, standing near an open door, flirting with a handsome young man dressed as a Viking. Celine. She turned, feeling my eyes upon her, and gave me a nod. I had to admit she looked radiant in her costume, the very picture of a wood nymph. Her gown of green and brown silk chiffon, cut low in the front and back, fastened beneath

The Soul Collector

65

her breasts with gold braided cording. Tiny silk flowers and crystal beads were scattered in random patterns about the material, giving the impression she had just risen from a flowery bower. She had her long hair pulled back and held in place with an elaborate gold wire band, decorated with crystals and silk woodland flowers. At her neck, a crystal cross dangled from green silk ribbon. She looked enchanting, her companion obviously taken by her. To her chagrin, I made my way across the room to greet her. “Darling!” I exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you again! What an enchantress you are in that costume.” I gestured for her to spin around and she accommodated me, a pleased smile on her face at my accolades. I sighed. “Oh, to be young again and capable of pulling off such a romantic look.” I looked around. “But where is Fabiene? I cannot believe the beast is not hovering about to fend off the admirers.” Anger flashed briefly in her eyes, then she smiled up at the young man standing next to her. “Fabiene is a friend of mine,” she said demurely. Then she gave me a pointed look. “He was unable to attend tonight. Business.” I placed a hand on the boy’s forearm and leaned in to speak confidentially. “He’s a police detective, you know. Lead investigator on these horrible murders.” I offered Celine a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps he will show up later, non? I know he would not want to miss seeing you in your costume.” “Perhaps,” Celine said. Her sidelong glance at her admirer hinted she was doubtful Fabiene would arrive at all. I looked around the room. “Ah, there is Anton. If you two will pardon me?” I leaned in to kiss her cheeks and whispered to her. “Feed on the blood of innocents, cher, and this will not be the last you see of me tonight.” Anton handed me a fresh glass of champagne. “What is she up to?” “Hunting, of course. Fabiene is evidently working so she is at loose ends. I told her if she fed on him, this would not be the last she saw of me tonight.”

66

India Masters

Anton raised an eyebrow. “And her response?” I laughed. “Do you really think I gave her time to make one?” We danced to several waltzes, keeping an eye on Celine and the numerous men lining up to dance with her. Anton squeezed my waist and drew me off the floor. Celine slipped outside with a smiling young man. “Damn her,” I muttered as we followed behind. “Where is she taking him?” Ahead of us, Celine giggled like a young debutante, tugging on her victim’s hand. The path they followed led deep into the surrounding woods where they came to a protective bower Celine had apparently prepared ahead of time. A cashmere blanket laid spread on the ground. She dropped to her knees, dragging her young swain with her, laughing as he produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses he’d filched from the bar. “Later, Jeremy,” she purred. “If you do not make love to me now, I will perish from the need of you.” The foolish Jeremy tossed his plunder aside and tugged her gown down to reveal her breasts. She made sighing noises as he fondled her, before leaning down to suckle. “Kiss me,” Celine begged. He raised his head to do her bidding, kissing her. She returned those kisses, fervently, then nibbled at his jaw, his ears, and finally his neck. Anton and I stepped into the clearing as she opened her mouth, fangs at the ready. “Did I not warn you, Celine?” I said. The young man, deep in her thrall, made no sound or movement. She shoved him aside, screeching. She shot to her feet, facing us. “I don’t take orders from you, you old hag!” Celine shrieked. Beside me, Anton hissed in anger. I placed my hand on his arm to quiet him before he choked the surly wench. I drew myself up to my full height and took a menacing step toward her. “You dare much, speaking to me that way.” My tone was pleasant enough but she knew she had overstepped herself. I reached out and traced one of her breasts with my index

The Soul Collector

67

finger. Her nostrils flared, then she cried out in pain as I closed my hand around her and squeezed cruelly. I lifted her chin, forcing her to look in my eyes. What she saw there made her tremble. “You know little about me, Celine, so I shall fill you in. I could kill you in a hundred different ways, girl. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.” I closed my eyes and pressed my palm against her breast, enveloping it in white heat. The smell of burning flesh filled the air and she screamed in agony. I removed my hand from a breast that was now a charred hunk of meat. I looked at her dispassionately. “Shall I burn the other one off, too? Perhaps Fabiene would prefer a matching pair, non? Or shall I heal you, hmm?” Celine dropped to her knees and grasped the hem of my gown. “Please, Lady, I beg you, heal me!” I looked at Anton, who nodded imperceptibly. “And you will curb your appetites?” “I will, Lady! I will hunt as Anton and Morgan do. No more innocent blood, I swear it!” “Very well, child.” My voice soothed her now and I slid the sleeve of my gown back, offering her my wrist. “Feed, Celine. T’will heal you.” Her fangs sank into my wrist and we watched as her breast returned to its normal state. “Enough, Celine. On your feet, girl.” I pointed at the young man on the ground. “Release him from your thrall and erase yourself from his memory.” As we turned to leave, I gave her a harsh look. “My blood courses in your veins, Celine. Do not disobey me.”

68

India Masters

Chapter Ten

At last, Fat Tuesday arrived. Noise from the street woke us, so we decided to gird ourselves for a stroll to the Cafe by taking a long, hot shower. Steam filled the enclosure as we took turns soaping one another with our favorite clove-scented soap. Anton groaned as my slippery hands smoothed the spicy fluid across his back, over his taut ass, and around his hips to wash his now swelling cock and balls. My movements were deliberately enticing as I stroked him to erection. “You will pay for your impudence, woman,” he growled, pulling me to my feet. “One can only hope, non?” I laughed as he pulled me to him for a deep, lingering kiss. “Scamp,” he scolded, swatting my ass before turning me around. His touch was gentle as he soaped my body, massaging my breasts before his hands slid down my body and between my legs. Long, strong fingers parted the cleft and delved inside, thrusting gently. “Brace your palms on the wall, cher, and spread your beautiful legs so I can fuck you.” “Mmm,” I murmured as he stepped up behind me. I didn’t know he had the handheld shower until I felt the powerful pulsing between my legs.

The Soul Collector

69

“Use this on your clit,” he ordered. “I love fucking you when you’re pussy’s twitching with an orgasm. You howl just like a cat in heat.” I snorted, but took the massaging showerhead and directed it between my legs. He entered me then, pumping slowly as the device began to work it’s magic. “Mmm, oh, that’s heaven, cher. That’s it, fuck me just like that.” My legs began to shake and Anton’s hips rotated, stirring me deep inside. “Ah…oh, I’m gonna come, baby. Oh, God, don’t stop!” His cock drove into me as I shouted at him to fuck me harder. The water massager pounded my clit as Anton pounded my pussy, and I came in a frenzy that buckled my knees. He caught me before I could fall and I turned to kneel before him, guiding his twitching penis into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and pulled him to me, his cock deep in my throat as I nursed him. I felt his balls tighten against the backs of my hands and knew he was almost there. I released him for a moment. “Fuck my mouth, cher,” I urged, then sank back onto his cock with increased suction. His fingers fisted in my hair as he thrust against my mouth. “Ah, Lily, I’m co…” He always tried to push me away rather than come in my mouth, even though I assured him I enjoyed the taste of him as much as he enjoyed the taste of me. He uttered a hoarse cry and emptied himself into the back of my throat. The water was cooling as Anton turned it off. We wrapped ourselves in towels and staggered into the bedroom, giggling like children. “Christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me!” he swore. The very idea of such a thing happening had us breaking up again and we fell on the bed shrieking with laughter. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I asked him. “Oui, madame, I do, and I thank the Goddess every day for giving you to me.” He looked at me for a moment then grinned. “Or should I say for giving me to you?”

70

India Masters

I chuckled and began to dry my hair. “I suppose it depends on how aggravated I make you on any given day, hmm?” “Oui, but never so much that I would wish things to be any other way.”

***** We dressed casually in jeans. As we crossed Jackson Square, women stopped to goggle at Anton in his favorite old jeans and drop shoulder shirt. Several made comments about his ass and his hair causing me to snicker.

“Peut-être je devrais établir une cabine et les laisse tapoter votre âne pour un dollar, hein, mon bonbon?” I teased. Perhaps I should set up a booth and let them pat your ass for a dollar, eh, my sweet? I could tell by the look on his face he was going to say something impertinent, for it really did embarrass him when women looked him over as though he were an expensive cut of meat. But we passed a group of giggling college girls who screeched and gathered around him. “Who are you?” asked a breathless blonde with a Yankee accent. “You’re somebody, aren’t you?” He thought about it for a moment, drawing me close to his side. “Oui, peu ceux. We are all someone, non?” Occasionally the subtleties of modern language escaped him, especially when he had a point to make. However, Miss New Jersey didn’t go for his philosophy lesson. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, snapping her gum. “But you’re famous, right?” I pulled away from him, walking backwards. “Il a un robinet célèbre grand il utilise

avec la grande competence,” I trilled, laughing as he blushed bright red. I had told them that he had a famously large cock that he wielded with great skill.

The Soul Collector

71

He shook his finger at me as he spoke. “No, ladies, my only claim to fame is being husband to an impudent redhead.” He gave them a polite nod and stalked me across the square, grinning. “Jeune fille effrontée ! Je barboterai votre derrière pour cela.” I laughed. He’d called me an impudent wench and threatened to paddle my backside. “Madame!” A petite brunette from the group shouted. “Is it true? Does he?” I shrieked with laugher as Anton picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “Oui, cher, it is true!” I yelped as Anton smacked me on the ass, and waved goodbye to the girls. “Put me down, oaf!” I exclaimed as we approached the cafe. “Never, you cause too much trouble when you’re allowed to run free.” I could picture the shit-eating grin on his face simply by judging the grins on the faces of the cafe’s customers. Not to mention the laughter in Lizzie’s voice as she greeted us. “Bonjour, Anton, Lillith. We saved your table.” He threaded his way through the crowd of people to our usual table in the back and finally set me on my feet. I made a huffing noise as I pulled my sweater down, and opened my mouth to scold him, but he yanked me hard against him and kissed me soundly. When he released me, I could feel my cheeks heat as the other customers applauded him. He sketched a polite bow to the crowd, then quite properly seated me. “Snicker at me, will you?” he said, all too pleased with his performance. Our café au lait and beignets arrived, along with the morning paper and we settled into our morning routine. It wasn’t until Anton gasped, that I was aware something was amiss. “The back page, cher,” he said, his voice deadly. I flipped the paper over and there it was: “Jeremy St. Germain, 25, son of banking mogul, Phillip St. Germain, found dead.” I scanned the rest of the article, anger boiling inside me. A pair of teens on a late night rendezvous saw his nude body, floating in a Ninth Ward canal. Someone had beaten him. The apparent motive was robbery.

72

India Masters

I snorted. “Robbery. That little bitch. Well, it stops today, right now.” Anton nodded and tossed some bills on the table. “We should probably try Fabiene’s first. If you could not sense her intentions, she must have had some help.” I gave him a startled look. “But Fabiene? He’s a cop!” “Yes, but he is a cop in love. Who knows what he might do?” I shook my head. “No, he would not condone murder.” Anton slipped an arm around my shoulder and guided me away from the crowded cafe. “And who knows how many she’s made, Anton. The city could soon be overrun with fledglings.”

***** We headed east down Decatur to Ursuline, where we hurried north, past the raucous crowds on Bourbon Street. We slowed as we reached the corner with Burgundy. Fabiene’s house was a one hundred year old Victorian gem. At a little over seventeen hundred square feet, it accommodated three bedrooms and two baths. When he’d first purchased the home, it hadn’t been much to look at, but he’d spent all his spare time fixing it up. When Celine moved in with him, she’d added her touch to the inside, turning it into a warm and welcoming home where we had spent several pleasant evenings. It broke my heart to think the evil little bitch might have sucked him into covering up her crimes. Changes in the home were subtle but noticeable to anyone who knew the owner. Long forgotten flowerpots and hanging baskets played host to dead plants. The porch and stoop hadn’t been swept in ages. Most telling were the windows. Once, lacy curtains hung to let in the light. Now, heavy drapes blocked out the light. Even the front door had changed. What had once been a double Victorian door with leaded glass side panels, was now a cold wooden door with only a peephole. No one answered when we knocked, but we hadn’t really expected a response. We made a great show of looking at our watches and questioned aloud if they might be out back. Who knew if the neighbors were watching? We let ourselves in the side gate and walked

The Soul Collector

73

around to the back porch. Again, no one answered our knock. I waved my hand at the knob and the door opened. We stepped inside to a silence so complete the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I looked at Anton. He nodded. Celine was in residence. We found her in the transformed third bedroom. What had once been a charming guest room, done up in shades of green and yellow, was now a soundproofed dark room. Celine opened her eyes as we walked in. “I warned you, Celine,” I said as I crossed the room. She bolted from the bed and backed away from me. “Stay away from me, bitch.” She opened her mouth, showing me her fangs. I laughed. “You think to harm me with those, little girl? Do you really have no idea what I am?” “What are you but a tired, old French whore?” I turned to Anton. “Would you like to take her or should I?” His smile was cold as the grave. “Allow me, cher. I haven’t quite your tolerance for disrespect.” He flew at her then, wrapping his hand around her neck and lifting her off her feet. “Open the curtains, cher, I find this darkness oppressive.” I moved toward the heavy blackout drapes and Celine began to beg. “Please, Lillith, don’t do this!” I turned to face her, furious. “I warned you, Celine! You gave me your word that you would no longer take innocents. You killed that boy! How many, wench? How many have you killed? Moreover, how many have you made?” She struggled uselessly against Anton’s steely grip. She was going to die, and she knew it. She laughed. “Dozens! Dozens dead and dozens of fledgings! You’ll never stop them all. Kill me and you’ll never know for certain!” “Prepare to meet your maker, fiendish bitch!” I yanked the curtain from its rod and flooded the room with sunlight.

India Masters

74

Vampires who turned to darkness required darkness to survive. The light from the afternoon sun scorched Celine, drawing screams from her that shook me to the core. This girl had been my friend. I took no pleasure in her death. Just once, she screamed Fabiene’s name. “Lillith,” Anton called. “Take her now.” He held her liquefying body against the wall as I placed my lips against her own, taking her last breath, and with it her soul, into my body. Anton held me as Danu’s arm shimmered into the light, reaching into my chest to wrest Celine’s black soul from my body. The Goddess’s voice filled my head. “You’ve done well, Lillith. Bring me her consort as soon as you may and you will have your reward.”

The Soul Collector

75

Chapter Eleven

I sat at my dressing table putting the final touches on my hair and makeup. Neither of us particularly wanted to attend the last ball of the season but we were obligated to go. I watched in the mirror as Anton dressed for the evening. He was going as Robin of Locksley and would cut a fine figure in doing so. His light brown trousers were made of the softest suede and fit him like a glove. Over these “woodsmen” pants, he wore a deep brown, nickel-studded, gambeson in chocolate suede that laced up the front. At his waist, he wore a leather belt and antler-handled belt dagger. A pair of suede, calf-length laced boots pulled the entire costume together. For me, yet another corset dress, but one so beautiful I’d like it for a burial gown. Made of crushed white velvet, the bodice was a heavily boned, off-the-shoulder confection trimmed in Swarovski crystals with elaborately scalloped skirting at the waist. The long, flowing sleeves, attached to the corset, were made of white chiffon, trimmed at the shoulder with white ostrich feathers. The skirt hugged my body tightly until it reached my knees, where it fanned out in a long fishtail train. My hairdresser made arrangements to do my hair at home, per Anton’s specifications. My scalp was going to be an aching mess by the time the evening was over, but I looked so

76

India Masters

fetching with the elaborate mass of curls swept back from my face to cascade down my back. To complete the look of a Nordic Queen, Anton had commissioned a delicate crown of woven silver and crystal resembling inverted icicles. I thought they rather looked like spiraled silver spikes, but what did I know. Anton dressed me for these formal functions lest I go as a Fairy GothMother. The Final Ball was held at the Marriott. It would end with the assembly of the courts, when the King and Queen of the Carnival meet with the King and Queen of the Mistick Krewe of Comus. At that time, at the stroke of midnight, Mardi Gras formally ends. For this most important function of the entire season, Anton spared no expense. They would talk about our costumes all the way until next season. I never quite understood why it was so important to him, but then he came from an aristocratic background while mine was earthy and spiritual. If it made him happy to dress up like Robin Hood, I would wear my Nordic Queen costume and make small talk with people with whom I normally wouldn’t associate any other time of the year. Morgan and Therese were in attendance as well. I had to admit I liked the girl. They came dressed as Hansel and Gretel. Anton and I nearly spat champagne everywhere at the sight of Morgan Michaud in lederhosen. Morgan’s sense of irreverence was one of his better qualities, in my opinion. While we did our fair share of circulating, most of our time was spent with the “fairy tale” couple. Therese, we soon learned, was a powerful white witch whose focus was stamping out the dark arts. She’d come to New Orleans from Baton Rouge to investigate rumors of a powerful warlock lost to the darkness. My heart skipped a beat. “Have you any idea who he might be?” I asked. She frowned. “Not yet, but I got a very strong sense of him this afternoon. Something bad happened; something has made him very angry. I feel it even now.” She made the sign of the evil eye. “He seeks vengeance and will not rest until he has it.” She shook her head. “His power is much greater than mine. I can tell you, I would not want to be the one who must

The Soul Collector

77

face him down. Blood will flow tonight, mark my words.” She excused herself and went to find the ladies room. Morgan sat there, silent, studying us. “What’s happened?” he said at last. I sighed. “We took Celine today,” I confided. “She’d been feeding on innocents. She is the one who killed the St. Germain boy.” He sipped at his champagne. “She was ever a flighty little thing,” he said with a nod. “I wondered if she would survive. You don’t suppose she turned Fabiene, do you?” The very idea horrified me. Fabiene was a powerful warlock in his own right, to combine those powers with those of a dark immortal would give him unthinkable power. “He wouldn’t let her, would he?” It was a question I had to ask, with an answer I feared to hear. Morgan snorted. “I wouldn’t put anything past the bastard, Lillith. He’s not as squeaky clean as you would like to believe.” “What do you mean?” Anton asked. He didn’t like what he was hearing any more than I did. “You don’t think he’s risen to such great heights in the department on his own merit do you?” He tsked. “Really, you two are too innocent for your own good. Your Fabiene clawed his way to the top over the corpses of too many good officers to name. He’s as corrupt as they come, Lillith.” He looked at Anton. “Surely you knew.” Anton sighed. “I had heard rumors, but he never gave me reason to doubt him.” That earned us another derisive snort. “Of course he didn’t, mon ami. You and Lillith represent everything he wants for himself. Status, wealth, a beautiful woman on his arm, and in his bed. He wants the invites to the balls on engraved invitations, not by phone calls from the very people he envies.” He gave us a pained look. “And now you’ve gone and taken his lady love from him. I doubt he’ll be inclined to play nicely any longer. We’d better leave soon. The streets will not be safe tonight.”

78

India Masters

We left before the ball got into full swing, apologizing to our hosts profusely as Anton called for our car. “As close as you can get us to Bourbon Street,” Anton said tersely. “Shall we grace the Cat’s Meow? He looked at me when asked the question. I groaned. Anton gave me a surly look and I said, “I know, I know. It has to be done, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “Hopefully, we won’t have to stay too long. Morgan and Therese will cover the other end of Bourbon. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t be here.” There were wall-to-wall people everywhere we went. I had to hike up my skirt and drape it over one arm. We both wore masks, Anton’s made of brown leather and mine of silver satin. Not that anyone in this tawdry section of the Quarter would know us. We never came down here, especially during Mardi Gras. We started out at the Cat’s Meow, an unrestrained karaoke bar where drunken patrons staggered about on stage singing indecipherable songs. Anton headed upstairs to search the balcony area while I elbowed my way through the downstairs. He came back shaking his head and we moved on to the next place. Razzoo is a pick up bar. In the front of the building, a house band blares, but the back is where the action is, if you’re a guy or gal on the make. There is a huge patio where people hang out, mingle, and drink. We’d been here a grand total of one time in all the years we’d lived in New Orleans. If Anton felt like a piece of meat in Jackson Square, we both felt as though we were on the auction block in Razzoo’s. But then, we walked through the door by choice and could walk out just as easily. This was one of the rowdiest bars on Bourbon and it was for a much younger crowd. We got the hell out as soon as we could. Between the four of us, we made the rounds of every bar on Bourbon Street, and several just off it. There was no sign of Fabiene. Just before the stroke of midnight, we went our separate ways, Morgan and Therese to his condo on Chartres, we to our building on

The Soul Collector

79

Royal. I could tell Morgan felt nervous about leaving us alone at the house on Royal, but the way Therese hung on his arm, it was more than apparent she wanted to be alone with him. We said our good-byes at the courtyard gate and sent them on their way. Anton turned on the bedroom light, adjusting the dimmer to a romantic glow. I crossed to the French doors and threw them open, inhaling the cool night air. The street below was clearing out as the police herded the stragglers back to their hotels. The church bells in Jackson Square chimed the hours. Mardi Gras was over. “Well, it’s Ash Wednesday,” I said, turning from the balcony. I frowned as Anton hurriedly crossed the room. “Appropriate, don’t you think?” came a voice from the hallway. Fabiene stepped into the room. “Since all you left of her was ashes.” I moved to approach him but Anton caught my arm and thrust me behind him. “She murdered that boy,” Anton said. “She received her warning.” Fabiene shot him a murderous look. “He was nothing! A human dog! Who were you to judge her!” “Taking the blood of innocents is forbidden!” Anton roared. “She knew it. She got her second chance, more than most get, Fabiene. Had it been anyone but us, she would have died the night of the Hermes Ball, and well you know it!” “You had no right!” “We had every right!” Fabiene’s scream of rage shattered the glass in the French doors. He flew at Anton, fingers curled like claws, the nails on his hands turned to sharp, slashing weapons. “Pray to your bitch Goddess!” he screamed, “For you both die tonight!” Anton shoved me away as he hurled himself at Fabiene. I stumbled, falling backward onto the balcony. I struggled to pull myself up and ran back into the room to find Anton and Fabiene locked in battle.

80

India Masters

They had one another by the neck, growling and snarling like wild animals. The fierceness of their anger lifted them off the ground and they began to thrash in the air, bouncing off the walls and ceiling. They got entangled in a two hundred year old chandelier, dislodging it. Fabiene’s strong legs kicked at the priceless antique sending it hurtling in my direction. I dodged the heavy lighting fixture and launched myself into the fray, grasping Fabiene’s ankle. The heat of my hands burned through his boots and he screamed in pain, releasing Anton. The three of us crashed to the floor. “Murderous bitch!” Fabiene bellowed. He rolled onto his knees and swung at me, catching me just above the temple. Pain exploded in my head and I swore I saw stars. I crumbled into a heap, holding my head in my hands. What the fuck? I couldn’t remember the last time I felt such true pain. Anton threw himself at Fabiene before he could take another swing at me, landing a punch, rocking the warlock back on his heels. Blood spurted from his nose but it hardly fazed him. He leapt to his feet and circled Anton, swiping at him with his deadly claws… claws that could easily rip open someone’s throat. I moaned, finally understanding what Fabiene had become, what Celine had made him. He was the vicious monster who’d raped those poor women and tore open their throats. I had refused to listen to Morgan, refused to see the truth. The man whom I once counted a close friend changed to a foul entity attempting to kill the one thing in this world I loved. “Noooo!” I screamed. Chunks of plaster fell from the ceiling as my voice reverberated through the room. Anton must have seen something in Fabiene’s face, for he screamed my name as the bastard turned to face me. He grabbed Fabiene’s shoulder to spin him around, giving the warlock the opening he’d been waiting for. Fabiene grinned. “Watch this, bitch.” He spun around and drove his wicked claws into Anton’s midsection, lifting him off his feet, shaking him like a ragdoll.

The Soul Collector

81

Anton’s eyes opened wide in surprise as Fabiene tossed him against the wall. He gasped, clutching his wound, watching in disbelief as blood poured through his fingers. He was dying. Shrieking, I threw myself at Fabiene, not caring if he did the same to me. I wrapped myself around the monstrous crossbreed, twining my arms and legs around his like a constrictor. His clothes began to smoke as my body turned to pure, white heat. I barely heard his screams. I would burn him to ash, as I had done his traitorous bitch, and leave his soul to wander in formless agony for all eternity. Then someone came crashing into the room and I felt a hand on my shoulder. A soothing voice spoke. “Give him to me, Lily.” It was Morgan. “See to Anton, ma petite.” I looked at the rapidly melting body and shoved it away. Anton needed me. I stumbled through the rubble that was now our bedroom and fell to my knees beside Anton. Glazed eyes looked up, his skin deathly pale. I felt for the pulse by his throat and sobbed, for it was barely there. “Noooo,” I keened. “Don’t leave me, Anton!” I lifted his body into my arms, guiding his mouth to my neck. “Take me! I would die with you!” “No, cher. I cannot take your life.” I was sobbing now, hysterical. “There is no life for me without you! Take me or I will do it myself!” He gasped. “You would damn yourself for all eternity?” “I am damned without you. I beg of you, don’t leave me here alone!” “Then we die as we’ve lived, cher. Together!” His fangs sank deep and I held him close, urging him to drink deeply, to drain me. Lightheaded, I looked down to see blood pumping from his wound, our blood. Strong arms cradled us. Morgan lowered his head to Anton. At last, I heard his voice.

India Masters

82

“It’s all right, ma petite, he is within me now. Give us a kiss goodbye.” With dimming vision, I looked beyond Morgan’s broad shoulders and saw her, my Goddess. She smiled at me and I heard her voice. “Rest, Soul Collector. Your work here is done. You will have that which your heart most desires.” “Thank you, Mother,” I whispered, and breathed my last breath into the mouth of a friend.

The Soul Collector

83

Epilogue

Nagigia Island rose like an emerald from the cerulean waters of the South Pacific. Part of the Fijian chain, no one but the top surfers and the very, very wealthy knew Nagigia as the precious island gem. To get there, you had to fly in on a tiny floatplane. The island has much to recommend it. Half of it sits on the edge of a six thousand foot deep-water trench offering ideal surf conditions. The most lovely blue lagoon borders the other half. The Great Astrolab Reef calls this part of the world home and hosts some of the best diving and deep sea fishing known to man. Getting there was dauntingly expensive; building a dream home there even more so. But once settled, living there was priceless. Morgan cringed as the floatplane bounced down in the crystal blue waters off the lagoon. As they taxied up to the impossibly long dock, he grinned, then laughed out loud. Five years had passed but Anton didn’t look a day older. Human again, aging would eventually come, of course. For now, he looked as ageless as he had when the Goddess had freed her vampire and soul collector to blessed death on the floor of their Royal Street apartments. It was all he could do to restrain himself as the pilot stepped onto a pontoon and tossed Anton Baudet a line.

84

India Masters

“Son of a bitch!” Morgan exclaimed as he hopped onto the dock. He embraced his old friend, kissing him on each cheek. “It has been far too long, mon ami. Where is your beautiful wife?” Anton laughed. “Did you come here just to chase after my woman? By God, Morgan, it’s good to see you. We’ve missed you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a bill out, handing it to the pilot. “Have someone bring the bags, eh, Sevu? And don’t forget to bring the wife and children to the barbecue tomorrow night.” “I will not forget, sir. The children are looking forward to playing with the twins.” Morgan slung an arm around Anton’s neck as they started back up the dock. “Twins,” he said. “I can hardly believe it.” Anton shrugged. “They run in my family. That I forgot to mention this small genetic detail didn’t make Lillith particularly happy.” Morgan laughed. “How were you to know it would ever be an issue, mon ami?” “That’s the only thing that kept her from taking a machete to my private parts.” He looked up, pointing at three figures running down the beach. “Here they come now.” She was as beautiful as he’d remembered. Perhaps more. Motherhood agreed with her. Her hair was more golden than red, and her skin was lightly tanned. She wore a brightly colored bikini top and a sarong hugged her hips. “Morgan!” Lillith cried. She leapt into his arms, wrapping her arms around him, smothering his face with kisses. “We’ve missed you so! Come, meet the children.” He eased her out of his arms and set her on her feet, then clasped his hands behind his back as the proud mother made introductions. “This is Antonette,” Lillith said, introducing a deeply tanned toddler. She ruffled the child’s hair, then turned to her other daughter. “And this is Morgan.” “I’m named for you,” the precocious three year old told him. “But I look like my pa’pa.”

The Soul Collector

85

Morgan squatted down so he could be eye to eye with the girls. He felt like a sap as tears filled his eyes. They’d named one of their precious children after him? “Yes, you do look like your pa’pa, the both of you. You’re very beautiful girls. And when the man gets here with my bags, there will be two very special presents in them, specially made for two such beautiful ladies.” The twins squealed in delight. “Come see the house, Uncle Morgan. Pa’pa built it special for maman.” Special didn’t begin to describe the house overlooking the secluded sandy beach. It was a six thousand square foot architectural dream of teakwood and open air louvered windows. In addition to the main house, two smaller guesthouses lay secluded down garden-bordered pathways. Wraparound lanais overlooked the beach and the meticulously maintained tropical gardens. They laid out the kitchen for a gourmet chef and left it open onto the bottom floor of the house so the cook could share the spectacular views. The larger guesthouse served as home to Sevu and his family, who worked exclusively for Anton and Lillith, although they were more like family. Lillith showed Morgan to the studio suite that came complete with private lanai, a full kitchen and bath, and a large, handcarved teak bed. Servants had already unpacked and stored his bags by the time they made it to his quarters. “The fridge and pantry are fully stocked,” Lillith told him. “Malia has unpacked your bags. Get freshened up and join us in the main house when you’re ready. Dinner is still a couple of hours away. We’ll be dining on the lanai, and you are in for a treat. Anton and Sevu caught a huge yellow fin tuna this morning, so we’ll be grilling that for supper.” Morgan grinned. “You learned to cook?” Her laughter was still like magic to his ears. “No, but Anton did. Do you believe it? I thought the man would go mad without his café au lait and beignets, but he has adjusted quite well.”

India Masters

86

When she turned to leave, Morgan caught her hand and pulled her close. “I have missed you, ma petite.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. “And we have missed you, darling.” She disengaged and tugged at his hand. “Come, let’s go to the house. Anton will have drinks waiting.” While the children napped, the three friends relaxed on the lanai and chatted about old times. “I have missed you both more than you know. You are ever on my mind. New Orleans is not the same without you.” Lillith ran her foot up his thigh. “And what of Therese?” “Gone. With Fabiene dead, she felt no need to stay. I, on the other hand, could not bring myself to vacate the home you and Anton so generously left to me.” “You are not obligated to keep it, Morgan. Sell it and leave the city if being there no longer suits you.” “And go where, petite?” “Why, here, of course. With us.” “Yes,” Anton concurred. “Why not? Etienne and the others can manage New Orleans. People get sick and die here, too, mon ami. And you should see the women who flock to the surf resort at the other end of the island. Very well put together, as Lillith would say. You’ll meet several at the party tomorrow.” “Matchmaking?” Morgan teased. “The two of you?” “More like enticement, darling,” Lillith said. “We miss you, too, Morgan. And the girls adore you already. ”

*****

The Soul Collector

87

Lillith worked alongside Malia helping set up the bar for the barbecue. Anton and Sevu had been out all morning shopping for fresh seafood at the local market on the wharf. Sevu’s brothers and cousins arrived to help with the party and had been working since the previous evening, preparing and monitoring the firepit. There was a pig, wrapped in burlap and banana leaves, roasting at the bottom of the pit, ready to come out of the ground by late afternoon. A smaller pit, also lined with rocks, awaited for the cooking of lobster, clams, potatoes, and corn on the cob. Lillith looked up, laughing as Morgan chased the twins up and down the water’s edge. They were supposed to be collecting seaweed for the clambake but were collecting more sand than anything else. Sevu and Malia’s children, along with their various cousins, joined in the frolic, keeping Morgan on the run lest he be overcome by the sheer number of little ones attempting to trip him and send him splashing into the surf. Malia chuckled. “That one will be worn to a frazzle before the day is out,” she said. “It is good he like the children so much. He make a fine father one day.” Lillith laughed. “If our children don’t give him a heart attack first! Come, let’s go see what the men brought back from the market.” Rock lobsters, a bushel basket each of crabs and clams, prawns, fresh corn, sweet potatoes, and mangos filled the bow of the Whaler. Meal preparations were in high gear as boats began to arrive. Some dropped anchor off the beach and took Zodiacs to the shore, while others tied up at the long dock on the lagoon. Finally, the seafood went in the ground, wrapped in seaweed and banana leaves. Lillith greeted the guests as they arrived, directing them to the bar or hors d’oeuvres set up in a large, white tent, keeping her eye open for one guest in particular. She exclaimed with delight when the Zodiac sped up, beaching itself on the shore, and hurried to help the occupant pull the little craft onto the sand.

India Masters

88

“Who is that?” Morgan asked Anton. “That would be Simone. She’s a marine biologist who lives on one of the smaller islands. Came here as a graduate student and never left. Lillith dotes on her.” Morgan watched as the two women embraced, then laughed as Lillith practically dragged the woman to meet him. “Simone Tissant, meet Morgan Michaud.” Morgan lifted her hand to his lips as Lillith continued talking. “Morgan is our friend from New Orleans.” She turned to Morgan. “Simone is originally from Paris, but she fell in love with Fiji as a graduate student and never left.” “I am pleased to meet you, Simone,” Morgan murmured, continuing to hold her hand. “Likewise.” Simone freed her hand. “And how do you like Nagigia, Morgan?” He gave her his most dazzling smile. “I find I like it more and more with each passing hour.”

India Masters India refers to herself as an old, Southern hippie. She is happily divorced with one no intention of rectifying the situation because sometimes she can barely stand her own company, much less someone else. She has one grown daughter who she still refers to as “Doodle,” and lives in a rapidly developing rural area in Florida where she shares her domain with all manner of wildlife, a swimming pool that is a breeding ground for a seemingly virulent strain of algae, and a black snake that likes to surprise her when she turns on the outdoor faucet and picks up the black water hose. India developed a love for writing while earning her B.A. in Criminal Justice from a northern college. She refers to herself as a late bloomer, as she married late, gave birth late, and got started writing late in life. She developed her love for all things quirky from doing psychiatric social work in both the community and corrections fields. She has always loved a good romance novel but found them lacking because all the good stuff was cloaked in euphemisms or happened behind closed doors. It wasn’t until she joined a critiquing group that she discovered romantic erotica, and her first book, The Soul Collector, was born. She credits her success to the caring support of the women -- and one, lone man -- in her critique group, but especially to one member who took her under her wing and helped her learn everything from point of view to manuscript formatting.