The Lord of Shadows Arc: Apocrypha

This backstory, for some reason, disappeared. I'm sure I had it here before. Anyway, this is Tyrese's tale. Yes, I know NOLA-- I went to college there. And as much as I liked school and the people there, I really grew to dislike the city. Can you tell?






February





The scent of night-blooming jasmine filtered up from the Garden District, the heavy humid air of New Orleans moving sluggishly through the oak lined streets and beneath crumbling balconies. In an empty alley way, a form landed from a long journey, carried from the jungles of Belize upon a Gulf Breeze, to land here, somewhat west of her destination.




The last time she had been in this city, she'd attended the balls for quadroons and octoroons, daring anyone to ask her for a dance. It had been one of those things people do to blend in with the society that surrounded them, but she hadn't stayed for very long. After a while, a half Chinese, quarter Creole, quarter African vampire got bored of shallow nonsense like that. So, she'd bid her fond farewells to the Captain, and left for the then-hidden temples of Central America.




Now she, Tyrese LeBeau Lee was back in New Orleans, the dirtiest city in America, because the Captain had called for her. And, seeing as she still owed him a few favors, she had come. For all that she'd learned to despise the city-- with the exception of the occasional jasmine, it smelled like a large cess-pit, and slid like one under the shoes, and the humans were hopelessly corrupt and self-involved here--but for all that, it was one of the few places left where a person could don a nice cloak and flash a fang and not be considered all that abnormal.




Of course, most of the "vampires" in New Orleans were fakes, wannabes enamored of the drama and angst found in too many cheap slasher romances, lonely souls who were too self centered to realise that the only reason they were alone in the world wasn't because they were tragically misunderstood, but rather that their depth was the illusion of a painted pool, shallow and tawdry, and that their problem was that everyone completely understood them-- except themselves. They were an embarrassment to humanity, and a useful tool to the true vampires who danced merrily in the sunlight and enjoyed extra garlic on their Texas toast. The fakes drew attention from the real thing, and so it was that Tyrese could walk down St. Charles Avenue in the light of the moon, could catch the streetcar downtown, and blend in with everyone else without the slightest fear of discovery.




At the end of the streetcar line, Tyrese got out, walked a few blocks on Canal, and then turned down St. Peters to Decatur Street. Down she walked, the scent of the Mississippi wafting in from her right, clashing with the scent of Bourbon Street several blocks to the left. Down she walked, past the Brewery, past Virgin Records, past more shops and boutiques as varied as upscale clothiers and cheap souvenir vendors. Finally, she smelled fresh beignets and café au lait. Turning left into Jackson Square, she stopped at the table of a fortune teller.




"Ah, cherie, it has been. . . centuries since you were last here. . .are you well?"




Tyrese nodded.




"Oui, Tante, I have been exploring the jungles to the south. But the Captain has called me back. Is he in his usual place tonight?"




The fortuneteller nodded, pointing farther down the square. "The alley between the Cathedral and the next block of buildings is called Pirates Alley. Go there, and you will know the rest of the way."




Tyrese thanked her "aunt", and continued on her way. It was amusing, she thought, how the tarot and rune readers competed for space with the born-again Christians. Some trying to divine your future, others already convinced of it.




She smiled as she entered the alley, easily discerning the signs written in the cracks on the walls, and in no time found herself before her summoner.




"Captain Lafitte," she said. "What do you need of me?"




The pallid corsair leaned back in his chair. "You've heard of Harry Potter, haven't you? The boy who survived the Avada Kedavra as an infant?"




Tyrese nodded, and Lafitte continued. "We wish to make a treaty with him when he comes to visit in the summer, and we want you to go to Britain with him and attend Hogwarts in his final year of studies."




Right. "Why?"




"Because of who and what he is. The whole world trembles at his coming, cherie, and we must see that he completes his purpose."




"In killing Voldemort?"




"In scourging the world. Voldemort will only be a start-- his true birth, if you will. If he succeeds, he will become the Lord of Shadows in earnest, the true Prince of Darkness, making way for the return of Mother Night. His success is imperative to our survival."




Tyrese pondered this. "How do we know he's the one?"




Lafitte nodded, and slid some papers over to her. "Our reports say that the heads of Neo Tokyo and the Wolf Nation are very interested. What's more, Washington has put her on the case as well." He tapped the top sheet, and Tyrese saw a picture of a young woman.




"Who's she?"




The Captain snorted. "Only the last surviving techno-witch. Morever, our Jager says he recognizes her . . . from over fifty years ago."




"Really?" Tyrese turned to the blond standing in the corner who could have -- and indeed, had --been a poster boy for the Hitler Jugend.




He nodded. "Ja. She vas in a different incarnation zen, a man I vorked vith. He vas. . . ruthless and seemed to enjoy slaughtering the helpless. But, I vas zee only van to see after, ven everyone else had gone, how sick he vould become. I alvays suspected he vas a spy like myself, but now I know. Zat iz a Vatcher, maybe even Zee Vatcher."




"What's a Watcher doing in Washington?" Tyrese felt her understanding of the world slip away. "They never get involved in anything, much less politics."




Captain Lafitte gave her a meaningful look. "You're right. But it seems that at the moment her path is taking her in the same direction as the United States Government. But have no doubt about it, she's got her own reasons for doing anything, including showing interest in Potter and his group. But if she's interested and getting involved, and everyone else is getting involved, it would be safe to assume it merits a closer look, right?"




"Right. But you don't need me for that. . ."




"Indeed, here's the results of the closer look." He slid over another stack of papers, and on top she saw a very detailed family tree going back many, many generations.




"Impossible. . . " she murmured.




"We think that's why the Watcher is getting involved. And we think that's why we need to be as well. Where you come in is this: Harry will, in all likelihood, be visiting America this coming summer. We need you to be our liason and help arrange a treaty between us and him. Then, in the fall, you will go as an exchange student and watch over his last year of studies, and do everything in your power to ensure his success."




Tyrese sat back in her seat. "Europe's not a good place for our kind," she said. "Will arrangements be made?"




"Yes. And Harry and his Coven will know your true status, so they will be able to help you."




She thought about it. She'd never really been fond of Britain, it was far to damp for her liking. But, she did owe the Captain, and she could see the importance of the mission.




"Alright, you mangy pirate," she said. "I'll do it."




"'Corsair,' please," he replied, wincing. "And thank you."