They Bloody Faithful Chapter 2 Songs From The Asylum free porn video

Chapter 2 Songs from the Asylum "I've decided to stick around, at least for awhile," said Rick. He sat on the edge of the ornate couch, the one I found so fascinating with its intricately carved legs and the crown of wooden filigree spanning the top of its high cushioned back. Like the other furniture and drapery in the room, the upholstery was deep red. There was only one element that was not the color of freshly drawn blood, the white baby grand piano. I sat at it now my fingers still resting on the keys though I was done with the song. I'd awakened just after dark, confused, thinking yesterday's events a weird dream. When I opened my eyes I saw it hadn't been. I was lying in the canopy bed, the vanity with the brass mirror still in the corner, the large screen television staring down at me from the wall just as I remembered. I frowned. Tossing the covers aside, cool air washed across my nakedness, hardening my nipples. The sensation was odd but not unpleasant. What plagued me was feeling so cold, much like I had last night. Did this place even have heat? New Orleans winters could be brutal. Frigid winds off the Mississippi combined with the high moisture content in the air created a cold that could seep through the thickest boots, penetrate the heaviest coats. The joke of a fireplace in the living room would be no match for what December and February would bring with their icy rains. I would need to find a way to get some modern heating installed before then. "Whoa dude," I cautioned myself. "You're talking like you'll still be in this body months from now. You'll be back to being good old Paul before Thanksgiving maybe even Halloween." Buoyed by my rediscovered optimism I yawned and rolled out of bed. I needed a shower and fresh underwear. I purposefully avoided the mirror as I gathered up my clothes off the small chair that accompanied the vanity. Tucking the bundle under my arm I made to exit the safe room when a thought struck me. It might not be a bad idea to check the security cameras first. I was in the house alone. I'd locked the front door (the other doors and windows were already locked) but Poole had somehow escaped out of the basement. If he was able get out, things could get in the same way. I switched on the television and activated all four cameras simultaneously. The screen divided into four panels, each one displaying a different side of the house. There was the street, and the courtyard in the back, surrounded by a tall privacy fence, the red-clay bricks lit by the soft glow of flood lights. The houses that flanked either side of Faith's were shrouded in darkest gloom. The house on the left was barley visible, most of it hidden behind a wall of banana trees. I could see light from the house through the spaces between their leaves. I imagined the people inside sitting down to supper or perched in front of the TV for the evening news. The house on the right was dark with no sign of life behind the old wrought iron fence, covered in vine. I thought it might be vacant. I'd have to ask Rick if it was. Satisfied nothing sinister lurked outside; I switched off the television to take my shower. I found fresh underwear in one of the two downstairs bedrooms in a dresser drawer. Another drawer held tee shirts and I nabbed one of those. There were jeans hanging in the closet. I slipped a pair off the hanger deciding fresh everything might be the ticket to keep my spirits up. A pair of Converse high-tops were stashed in the back of the closet. I nabbed them and revisited the dresser to fish out a pair of socks. Then I carried every thing to the bathroom. There was no shower, only an old fashioned tub that stood on four shorts legs and was so deep you could drown in it. I filled it with steaming hot water and soaked until the water was icy cold. The bath didn't do any thing for the chill inside me but I did feel like I'd washed away some of the griminess Luther had left me with. That odd thirst I'd experienced the night before began to build as I dressed. I knew it meant I needed to (how had Rick put it?) to feed. He'd mentioned Faith had a supply of blood -- which I found unsettling. We'd gotten sidetracked and he'd left before showing me where it was. I could sniff it out, I was sure. My nose was super keen. That was one of the perks of being a Vamper. I didn't, however, trust myself to stop before I gorged myself into insanity. The stuff was too damn good. If my weakness went unchecked I could find myself stalking the unsuspecting tourist --the city was full of them-- dragging them into an alley-- no shortage of those in NOLA-- and ripping out their throats, sucking them dry. I shuddered. I'd wait for Rick. He would help me keep my urge under control. I navigated my way down the hall past the kitchen and elegant dinning room to the living room. I'd seen a piano there, a baby grand. I wanted to check it out. The first thing I noticed was the raised lid with the lid prop in place as if it were waiting to be played. I read the name on the fall board, and involuntarily sucked in a breath, Steinway and Sons. This was a serious instrument and well out of my price range. Faith must be loaded. You couldn't afford this kind of quality playing in an indie band. But should I have been surprised? The bottom floor was packed with expensive furnishings, at least the parts I'd seen. I hadn't checked the upstairs yet but I was pretty sure if I did it would be just as lavish. I sat down at the Steinway tracing a finger lightly over its beautiful ivory keys. Could I still play after my body switch? The body I occupied now was only two-thirds the size of Paul's rendering my arms shorter and my hands smaller. And what about muscle memory, these muscles belonged to someone else. I began by experimenting with a few basic chords around middle "C" my left hand tapping out a simple bass. The chord forms felt familiar but in a different way. Wanting to explore more, I fired off a couple of pentatonic scales, the major first and then the minor form an octave higher, ending with a little improvisation. My new body seemed strangely comfortable with the keyboard. It knew this instrument. I decided to try a serious piece of music. "Black Salt" was my favorite band and when they released their only CD "Songs from the Asylum" I not only bought it, I learned every cut, note for note. It wasn't an easy task. These guys were maniacally good and had an inclination to play hard and fast. Their riffs were complex, delivered at breakneck speed sometimes switching keys or time signatures. My favorite cut on the album was titled "Crash Cart" and the most difficult to cover. The keyboard part was insanely fast like "Flight of the Bumble Bee" on steroids. The bridge, at the end of the song consisted of a sort of a rondo of triplets, the notes circling round against a pounding bass line before flowering into a delicate crescendo with the final chorus played slowly, softly fading away. I cruised through the song, my fingers dancing over the keys in a blur of motion. I'd never played so well. It was if every hour I'd ever put into practice, every afternoon I spent in the rehearsal room at school suddenly came together and I was reaping the results. I finished the second chorus never missing a note. Now I'd reached the bridge, the most difficult section of the song. My left hand pounded out the bass notes with ease in a rolling thunder while my right flicked off the triplets; the arpeggios rose then fell then climbed again. Then it was time for the final chorus. I played it slowly, lovingly, caressing each note until the sound faded into nothingness. I sat paralyzed, staring at my hands on the keys. That had been the best performance of my life. I'd never played with such confidence and agility. Actually I wasn't sure I was capable of what I'd just done. No one got that good that fast. What had happened? I was startled to hear someone clapping behind me. I twisted around and saw Rick. "How you get in?" I asked. "That was crazy good," he exclaimed holding up a key. "You covered that song exactly like Black Salt. Where'd you learn piano like that and don't say Tulane." "I learned the song listening to the CD but I've never played it like that. I always messed up that part just before the last chorus. But tonight it was like a bulb went off in my head. Everything was easy; all those technical places weren't technical at all." He raised a fist to his lips his brow creased in thought. "Have you fed?" he asked after a long pause. "No, but what were you thinking just then?" I knew it wasn't whether or not I'd had dinner. "I had an idea," he said. "But we can talk about that later. First let's get you fed and get some heat in this place. It's fucking cold. Then I have some news." Rick headed off to wherever to get my drink. While I waited, I puzzled over how I was able to play "Crash Cart" so perfectly. I wasn't even in my right body. My arms were shorter, my hands smaller and yet I'd played better than any time in my life. This was crazy. Rick returned with what I thought of as my "evening cocktail" and handed it to me. I sipped at the thick coppery liquid watching as Rick stacked wood in the fireplace. "You need to learn to mix your own meals," he said fanning a flame beneath the logs, teasing it until they began to ignite. "I might not be here to do it for you." "So you are leaving," I said, the statement was meant as accusatory but I only sounded scared. Right now Rick was my guide, in my short time as a Vamper I'd come to depend on him. Without him, I'd be lost and alone. He turned away from the fireplace. "I visited Tulane today," he said. "I checked with the office first. The Registrar wouldn't give me any information so I had to hunt around for someone who knew you. Finally found a guy, Larry? Barry?" "Barry James?" I suggested. Barry was a skinny kid with curly red hair and freckles. He was a sophomore studying classical guitar. We'd become friends, musical buddies. "Yeah, that was his name. He said you two jammed together sometimes and that you had a lot of talent." "So what else did he say?" I'd slid to the edge of the piano bench fighting to keep my seat. I wanted to leap up and race around the room. If anyone knew where my body was it would be Barry. Rick took a slow breath before he spoke again. "He couldn't understand why you threw away your scholarship to take an extended tour of Europe with a French exchange student, one that you hardly knew." "What," I grabbed the sides of the bench to keep from toppling off onto the floor. "Are you saying she's left the country? That's impossible, I don't have a passport. I also don't have any money, not enough for plane tickets," Barry had to have gotten that wrong. "She probably tapped into her own accounts," Rick said. "Faith has accumulated a fortune over the last century. She could have stashed away a few thousand ahead of time, somewhere she could get her hands on it. Faith was like that." "But the passport," I argued, refusing to give up hope she was still in the city. "That takes weeks to obtain." "I'm pretty sure Poole had one forged for her. Remember he was part of this." "Look," said Rick leaning forward closing the distance between us. "All I know is Barry drove them to the airport and sat with them until they got on the plane. The poor guy was torn up about it. He didn't know why he did it, letting his friend throw away his scholarship for a crazy romp overseas. He told me he had this compelling urge to get them on the plane, it felt like a matter of life or death. The urge vanished right after takeoff, leaving him wondering why he'd done it. Now he blames himself for ruining your life." Barry had to be in major pain over this. I'd seen him beat himself up for the slightest things. He was a good guy and my heart went out to him. But why had he done it? Rick must have guessed what I was thinking because he said, "I'm sure Faith charmed your friend into helping them." "Charmed? You mean like they do snakes with a flute? Don't tell me that's another Vamper power." "Actually it is, though some Vampers are better at it than others. A talented Vamper can make you think or do whatever they want. Some can even make you see or hear things that aren't real. It depends on the Vamper and the human." "Okay, let's say I accept that," I said. "There's still this problem. I'm in Faith's body and she's in mine. How does she still have the ability to do that?" "I don't have an answer for that," said Rick. "But I'm sure that's what she did. It's the only thing that makes sense." "We have to go after her," I said refocusing on what was important. She was already out of the country. If I didn't act soon I might be trapped like this forever. Rick shook his head. "It's not that easy. You're talking a seven to eight hour flight across the Atlantic and that's leaving from New York with no delays and perfect conditions once you get in the air. This would have to be at night, and that includes take off to landing, your body can't handle the sun and that's a near impossible task. But even if we were able to pull that off we would still have to get you from the airport to some safe place before the sun rose, and that would have to be repeated every single time we moved to another city. It could take months even years to find Faith operating like that, if we ever found her." "Are you saying I should give up? I can't do that. If I have to I'll do this on my own." Rick raised his eyebrows and snorted. "You wouldn't survive one night on your own. You haven't even learned to feed yourself. You're not Paul Simmons anymore. Your new body plays by different rules." "What you're saying is I should accept things as they are and just settle down and learn to be a good little Vamper girl." "I wasn't suggesting that at all, Paul," He continued. "What I'm saying is trying to hunt down Faith would be like searching for a needle in a hay stack the height of the Empire State building. Better to let her find us." "What do you mean us? I thought you were leaving?" "I was. With Faith out of the country the only sensible thing for me was to go back to law school, take the bar exam and join my father's firm." "You said 'was', does that mean you changed your mind?" I wanted to know. Rick held up a hand. "I'm getting to that," He said. "When I got here tonight I planned on telling you I was leaving. Faith kept a ledger with the names of the people she used to handle her finances and supply her with blood. Once I went over the info with you, I was going to catch the next flight home. "I knocked but you didn't answer. I could hear "Crash Cart" being played on the piano. I thought you'd found one of the tracks we'd used to put together the CD but when I used my key to open the door I saw it wasn't a track but you. You were playing they keyboard part of "Crash Cart" exactly like Faith. That's when I got an idea. "Faith has a lot of faults. She can be selfish and self-centered. She's headstrong, stubborn to a fault. She's also amazingly talented with the ability to look into the heart of things and then express what she finds in a way others can share her experience. "Black Salt" was her baby. She put the band together, wrote the songs, and arranged the music. I got the gigs, dealt with the club owners and canvassed radio stations for air time but Faith had the last word on everything we did as a band. Things were going great until she decided she wasn't getting enough of the spotlight. She was the front woman but that wasn't enough. She felt a name change was due: "Faith Goodeblood and Black Salt". "Up until then the band had been pretty cool about Faith running things. But now they were feeling like they were getting short changed. "Black Salt" wasn't a team effort anymore with each person doing their thing. Now it was all about Faith. I did what I could to keep things from heating up too much. I took the band aside and reminded them we were about to grab the golden ring, hit the big time. All they needed to do was hang in there; Faith was going through a phase from all the attention the band was getting. Once she adjusted to the newly acquired fame, she'd settle down. Then I got a call from my mother. My dad had suffered a stroke and they needed me to come home in case he didn't make it. I knew when I left it was the end of "Black Salt." "I wasn't surprised when I got the call from Danny Scott, the lead guitarist, they'd voted to disband. What I was surprised to find when I got back was you strapped to a table in the basement with Poole ready to rape you." He paused, making a motion with his hand. "But I'd prefer not to revisit that particular moment in time, if you don't mind." "You said you had an idea," I reminded him, "what is it?" "It's simply this. Instead of trying to find Faith, we have her find us. In other words we create a situation that will draw her back to New Orleans. "How can we do that?" I asked. New Orleans should be the last place she would want to be. "By giving her what she wants most," said Rick. "The spotlight." "And how are we going to do that?" I asked. "By keeping her music alive." "Uh, you kinda already said that with the spotlight thing," Rick was talking in circles. "But forget that; let's say you do get "Salt" more air play. I don't think Faith is going to even know about it unless you get some European stations involved. And even if you did, how will that get Faith back here?" "What I have planned has nothing to do with "Black Salt". Actually you're the key to getting Faith back." "Me?" He nodded. "You're going to form a band." I studied Rick's face. He stared back. His jaw set, his eyes unblinking. "You're serious," I said when I could find my voice. "Think about it Paul," he said. "When she learns an imposter is claiming to be her, performing her songs, receiving her applause, she'll go ape shit. She'll catch the first flight she can back for the states, and when she does, I'll confront her. I think I can convince her to reverse what she did to you." Rick was banking on Faith still having feelings for him. I wasn't sure she did. Then again what else could I do? "Do I have a choice?" "Not really," said Rick. "Unless you're happy the way you are." "And you're sure you can convince her to switch bodies again," I said. "If I can't get her to do it willingly," his features hardened. "Then I'll have to force her. Either way the results will be the same." "Tell me what I need to do," I said. "First thing, we need to go over the play list. I need to see what you got." *** The play list was easy. I'd learned to play all the songs shortly after the CD had been released. The fact I was studying music at Tulane was like adding more polish to a surface with an already high sheen. But it was something else, that unaccounted for element enabling me to play them like Faith that gave me the confidence we could pull this off. Sitting at the baby grand, my fingers danced across the keys, picking out melodies I'd played over a hundred times but not the way I played them now. Now I owned them. They were mine. There was another odd component to when I played. The distraction of an unfamiliar body with its breasts and vagina, a condition I found almost unbearable, lost its power. I thought this might be because I was in my element and so everything else became secondary. Music was my world. It was the place where I thrived. "Perfect" Rick said, as I ticked off the last bars of " Crimson Skies.", a soaring arpeggio of sixty-forth notes played with the right hand against a rocking bass with the left. "You've got the technical stuff down. There are a few songs we haven't tackled; some new stuff "Salt" was still working out when they broke up. But that can wait. I'll have to find the sheet music and Faith's notes. Right now I'm bushed and you should be too." I was anything but. It was like the music had given me a shot of adrenaline. "If you don't mind I'd like to stay over for a day or two," Rick said. "I uh... subleased my apartment to a friend yesterday figuring I'd be back in West Virginia right now. I'm gong to need a few days to find another place. I mean I guess I could ask my buddy I gave my place to but --" "No, here is fine," I said almost too quickly. I was ecstatic to hear Rick wanted to stay over. "Stay as long as you want. It's not like I don't have room. Stay a year, two even." He smiled wearily. "Thanks, but I don't need that long. Besides you might find having me around is more of a pain than you think." He paused. "Care if I use the spare bedroom down here? I'm too tired to climb the stairs and I don't think this couch is long enough to fit me." "Help yourself," I said. He rose up off the couch. Stretching his arms he yawned wide. "In that case," he said. "I'm headed for bed. I've been up since yesterday morning." I watched him turn the corner into the hall leaving me alone. It was close to sun rise. Standing at the window I looked out, careful to keep an eye on the sky, remembering the lesson I'd learned yesterday morning, the way my wrist smoked when the light struck it. Peering out at the encroaching dawn, I wondered where I was, not physically but as a person. Everything had been flipped upside down. I occupied a stranger's body, in a stranger's house. And did Rick really think he could really trick Faith back to New Orleans? Even if he did, what made me think we could force her to switch bodies? What if it had been Poole that worked the magic? We would have Faith back but she wouldn't be of any use without Poole's help? "Well Paul," I said. "Look at the bright side. You wanted a career in music and it looks like you're getting your wish." Except I wasn't Paul anymore. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone was standing across the street. A human wouldn't have seen them buried as deep in the shadows as they were but I wasn't human anymore. I had enhanced vision designed for a world of dark. But even with my Vamper sight, I couldn't tell much about them, only that they were tall and very thin. Their attention was fixed on somewhere down the street. Then, as if sensing they were being watched their head snapped around to my window. I couldn't see their face but I could feel their eyes lock on mine as a chill ran through me. Suddenly it wasn't there. Maybe a second passed then it slammed into the window. A filthy shirt covered an emaciated body atop of which a hideous face stared into mine. Its long hair was matted; fangs yellowed and sharp filled its open mouth, black claw like fingernails scraped the windowpanes. It hissed and I screamed as I backed away from the window, releasing the drapes to fall back in place. I heard rapid footfalls in the hall then Rick burst into the room. He grabbed me by the shoulders, concerned. "What's the matter? What's happened?" "There," I jabbed a shaky finger at the closed drapes. "Some...some kind of monster. It had fangs and long fingernails. I think it tried to get in." Rick swept back the curtains. There was nothing on the other side. "It was there," I cried. "I saw it. It was thin, dressed in rags, pressed up against the glass." "It's okay, Paul," he said, clutching me tightly in his arms. "I believe you." He steered me to the couch and sat beside me continuing to hold on to me as I tried to control of my tremors. "Tell me exactly what happened," he said. "Don't leave anything out." I recounted gazing out the window when I spotted the thing. I told how at first it was focused on something down the street, then when it noticed me, how fast it crossed the street. "A rogue," said Rick. "What's that?" I asked. "An infected human that has turned but was never fostered, and more than likely insane." "Okay. How about trying that again but in English this time." Rick looked at me; his head cocked to the side his mouth forming a thin line. "Rogues are vampires," he said. 'You called it a vampire," I said. "Why didn't you say Vamper?" "Vampers don't want anything to do with them. They call them "Scabs". They see them as wild things which in a sense they are. When a human is infected by a Vamper it's almost always by accident. They are then fostered by the Vamper that infected them. The Vamper acts as a mentor to help them adjust to their new "condition". Rogues or Scabs are the unlucky ones that were infected but left to turn alone. Most of the time they have no idea what has happened to them. They only know that the sunlight hurts and they crave blood. Most of the time, they find their new situation too maddening to retain their sanity. They become true vampires attacking the weaker humans and animals." "How come no one knows about these rogues?" I asked. "I can understand how Vampers have kept their selves secret, but that thing was wild. It acted like it didn't care who saw it." "Think about it," said Rick. "How many stories about big foot and the Loch Ness monster have you read." "A bunch," I admitted. "Did you take them seriously?" I shook my head. "There's your answer," said Rick. People don't believe in anything outside the constructs of what they consider the rational world. If science hasn't catalogued it then it can't be real." I had to admit that it if hadn't happened to me I would have never believed in Vampers. Not even if it had come from my friend Barry James. Rick got to his feet. I started to rise with him but he stopped me . "Better if you stay here." "Why? Where are you going?" I asked. "I want to check the yard, make sure that thing is not hanging around." "Are you crazy?" I asked alarmed. "That thing is dangerous and fast." "Believe me, Fai --"he caught himself before I could correct him. "Paul. I know how dangerous they can be," He walked to the window and peeped through the drapes. "The sun is almost up. If it hasn't found a place to shelter it will be too weak to pose much of a threat. I want to make sure it's not nesting near the house. If it makes you feel any better I'll take the pistol." "All clear," said Rick, locking the front door and then keying in the security code to activate the system. "I checked our neighbors' yards as well. What I think happened was the scab smelled another vamp and was curious who it was. When it didn't recognize you it lost interest and wandered off." He yawned. "So can we hit the sack now, please?" "After you answer one question," I said. "How do you know so much about vampires, gypsies and all the other stuff that goes bump in the night?" He turned away from me pressing a fist to his lips. When he could face me again he spoke in little more than a whisper. "What I told you earlier about my father wasn't true," he said. "The real reason that I had to leave was I got word from some people. They might have located my sister. She went missing five years ago. No one has seen her since." "I'm sorry," I said. "How old was she when she disappeared?" "It was just before her sixteenth birthday. I think she was abducted by a rouge." "That's awful." "Yeah. One day maybe I'll tell you the whole story and how it led me to learn about Vampers but not now. I'm too tired. I will tell you my parents don't know the truth. They think she was abducted and murdered. As cruel as it is to let them believe Pam is dead, I think it would be crueler to tell them that she's alive, if you can call scabs alive." "So you don't think she's dead." "I'm sure she's not. What I don't know is if any of the old Pam remains or if she's become something unrecognizable. I keep hoping one day I'll find her and bring her home at least what ever is left of her." He got slowly to his feet, using the arm of the couch for support. "Good Night" he said, his back to me. I watched him stumble into the hall out of sight and my heart went out to him. Rick was carrying a lot of weight. I hoped the burden wasn't so great it would crush him. *** "I'm not a singer," I said. I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. "Somebody else is going to have to do the vocals," Back during my high school days when my friends and I put together a garage band, I'd tried doing vocals. My band mates convinced me it was better if I didn't sing at all, not even as backup. "You have to do them, Paul. Faith was "Black Salt's" lead singer. You're going to be playing the part of Faith so you have to do the vocals." I frowned. I was comfortable on keyboards and guitar, but not singing. "You'll be fine," Rick continued. "You're not singing with your voice. You're singing with Faith's." "Whatever" I said wanting to get this over with. I twisted around to face the piano and my thighs pressed together. Immediately I was aware of the missing parts between my legs, reminding me I wasn't a guy anymore. My mind flashed back to the odd experience I'd had earlier this evening. Just after I woke I'd gone into the bedroom Rick was using for fresh underwear to change into after my bath. Rick lay on his back asleep, the bed sheet drawn up only as far as his hips. I paused captivated by his bare upper body the muscular chest and flat stomach. The little patch of chest hair added an extra sexual component and I felt a warm moist sensation between my legs. I reached out, wanting run my hand down his body and sink my fingers into the bushy patch of chest hair. Then realizing what I was about to do, I snatched my hand back. What in the hell had I been thinking? I tore my eyes away from Rick's sleeping form. Grabbing a pair of panties out of the dresser drawer I rushed out of the bedroom. Lowering myself into the warm bath water I questioned why I had reacted to Rick the way I had. Now I asked myself that again? "Let's start with -- let's see." Rick's voice snapped me back into the present. He was rummaging through the bundle of lyrics he'd printed using the laptop and printer on the desk in the little office upstairs. I already knew the lyrics to every Black Salt song, but Rick insisted I have them in front of me to help focus on what I was doing. "Let's start with this," he said passing the sheet to me. I checked the title: "Night's Passage." Night's Passage was gentle by Black Salt standards, almost a lullaby. But when Faith sang, it became a dirge -- haunting, laying bare the reality that no matter how many friends or family surround us, we are always alone. How was I going to cover that? I got goose bumps every time I heard it. "Are you serious? " I asked, waving the sheet in Rick's face. "Of all the songs you could have picked, this one?" He reached over and gently lowered my arm. "It's got to be this one, Paul. If you can sell it, the rest will be a piece of cake. Don't do anything yet, I need to get something. I'll be right back." I placed the sheet on the piano's music rack and mentally skimmed over the song's lyrics while Rick went upstairs He came back down with an old reel to reel tape recorder. He placed the mike next to me on the piano then took a seat next to the tape recorder on the couch. "Sing it like your telling a story," he said. "When Faith wrote this she wanted people to know what it was like to be a Vamper, cut off from the day, from her old life, her family, from everything she loved. This has become your story." Rick was right, now I understood why Faith had moved me so much with this song. It was because what I was hearing in her voice truly was loss. Loss of her freedom, being sentenced to a world that was always dark, always feeling cold, looking out through the window at a world she'd lost and could never regain. I had become her when she had taken my body. She'd passed this song to me. These were my feelings, my losses." "Are you okay, Paul?" Rick asked. Tears had begun to trickle down my cheeks. I swiped them away with my sleeve. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's do this." My fingers picked out the intro on keys black and white and then I sang. My voice trembled as I put everything I had into the lyrics. I sang of waking up to find myself a prisoner in a body that wasn't mine. Watching the sky lighten knowing as it did my freedom was ebbing away and soon I'd have to lock myself away until the night ruled once more. I sang of how I was alone. When I finished I turned to ask Rick how I'd done. He was on his feet, practically dancing with delight. "That was fantastic," he exclaimed, rewinding the tape. "I don't know what happened to loosen you up but I hope it's permanent." The reels stopped. "Let's give it a listen," he said. Rick flicked the machine to play and Faith's voice filled the room. I felt the goose bumps rise on my arms as the melancholy of her voice worked its magic yet again. "That's you, Paul," said Rick. I'd been so caught up in listening to the vocals I'd forgotten. Rick switched off the tape recorder and leaned toward me, waving his arms. "If you can do every song like that one, you're going to be bigger than "Black Salt" ever was. Faith was a pretty amazing singer but you had lagniappe in that performance. "Lagn-- what?" "It's a colloquial around here. I probably used it wrong but lagniappe means a little something extra, sort of like a bonus." I'd certainly been "Lagniapped" or something. It was like I'd been injected with a large dose of talent. I was good at music, really good, enough to score a full ride at Tulane but the last couple of days I was playing at a level beyond anything I'd ever been capable of before. "After that I need a break," Rick said. He leaned back on the couch, tucking his hands behind his head. "You know Paul, before I heard you play, I figured you were probably okay, you would have to be to earn a scholarship. But I never guessed you could play at this level. You could have landed a job in most any band you wanted, or worked in a top recording company as a studio musician. Why didn't you?" "I'm normally not that good, Rick," I said. "Or wasn't. Something's happening to me. Every time I play I seem to get better. And doing the vocals was like being possessed by someone else." I wanted to add the changes weren't happening only when I was at the piano. There was that strange urge in the bedroom where Rick was sleeping. But I didn't. That was my secret for now. "It's like swapping bodies with Faith has changed me. I think I might still be changing." "It's just the effects of having to make adjustments," Rick said. "You're physically different than you were. That's got to have an impact on your mental state, at least a little. I wouldn't worry about it too much. It will probably pass once you adjust to your new self." We taped a few more songs, playing each one back afterward. Rick made a few suggestions when we were done but all in all he was satisfied. Around midnight he left to pick up something for his dinner. Faith's fridge was empty. He returned with a Styrofoam container of Jambalaya from an all night Cajun place and sat on a foot stool by the fire to eat. The outside temperature had dropped a good fifteen degrees and the house had absorbed the cold like a sponge. I sat on the piano bench watching him as I sipped my cocktail. The warmth it produced inside me melted away the ever present chill, lulling me into a dreamlike state as the smell of Rick's supper filled the room. I could mentally taste each bite he took, remembering my own Jambalaya dinners, imagining the sweetness of the shrimp, the spicy sausage and the tangy tomatoes and bell pepper. For now I was okay with Rick having the Jambalaya all to himself but would this change over time? Would I come to envy his ability to eat? It used to be one of my favorite past times, going to restaurants and clubs with my friends, trying new foods. This was New Orleans, a city famous for its cuisine. Again I reminded myself that this situation wasn't permanent. Rick was confident his plan would work. We'd have Faith back and then it was only a matter of undoing what she'd done. But I asked myself, what if I was wrong? What if this couldn't be undone? What if it had been a one time thing, once you switched you couldn't unstitch. What would I do then? I began to freak. "What's the matter, Paul?" Rick was staring at me. I'd gotten so caught up with my 'what ifs' I hadn't noticed. I shook my head. I didn't want to get into it with him. "Look if something's bothering you I need to know," he said. "We're in this together. Remember, I have a stake in this too." "This is going to sound stupid," I began. "But I was thinking what would happen if this doesn't work. I mean what if Faith doesn't give a damn that I'm taking her place on stage. Or what if she gets hit by a bus or murdered while she's running around with this French girl befor--" "Okay, okay, I get it," Rick said, cutting me off. "I've thought of that too. There's always a chance something could happen. That's all the more reason to get our plan in motion. The sooner we do the less chance something can go wrong. Agreed? "Yeah, you're right," I said, but the feeling this was going to fail stayed with me. *** The Vamper club was located on Frenchmen street, a block down from Washington Square. The building like so many in the city was a two story affair with a covered balcony that ran the length of the second floor embellished with a decorative wrought iron railing and tall vertical windows. The bottom floor windows were painted black, with the words MEMBERS ONLY written in bold white letters. The sign above the entrance identified the place as La Chambre Rouge. Rick parked his Honda in front of the building, slipped out and then surprised me by opening my door and offering me his hand. I was pretty sure this was just show for the valet striding toward us. Otherwise, there had been a change in our relationship. I eased out of my own seat conscious of the cool air on my legs. Rick had insisted I wear a dress. Though the place didn't have a strict dress code jeans were frowned upon. Rick was in a pair of tan pants, plaid shirt and blue blazer. I'd found the black cocktail dress in Faith's closet. Since I was playing the part of "Faith" tonight, I'd also adorned myself with some of her trademark black lipstick. The valet gave me the once over while he waited for the keys and smiled at what he saw. The smile faded at Rick's glare and I laughed as the guy scampered away, getting back to the business of parking cars. "Shall we," Rick said, taking my elbow. I yielded without a fuss. I was beginning to enjoy this special treatment. As we neared the club the place took on a more sinister look with its blacked out windows and dull fa?ade, not at all like the clubs that surrounded it with their brightly painted fronts and colored lights. I hadn't imagined something this foreboding when Rick suggested we take a night off from practice and go out. "Are you sure about this?" I asked as we neared the door. "It looks more like a place to hold inquisitions than a club." "Trust me," said Rick. He tapped on the door. A slot slid open and a pair of eyes peeped out. "Rick Crane and Faith Goodeblood," Rick said. The slot closed. A moment later the door opened to reveal a giant of a man with a shaved head. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, the coat stretched so tightly across his chest I thought the buttons might pop. "It's Nice to see you again, Mr. Crane," said the man gesturing us in. "And Ms. Goodeblood, I must tell you the patrons were both curious and pleased when they heard you were coming. You are something of a celebrity." I glanced at Rick. What was this guy talking about? "Thanks Leo," Rick said. "I can take it from here." "Of course," said Leo turning back to the door. Rick escorted me into a large dark room. Colored lights, mounted on the high ceiling cast an eerie blue-green light down the walls and across the faces of the club goers. To my left, a long bar ran most of the length of the room. Bottles holding every kind of liquor filled the shelves behind it. Tables covered with white table cloths were arranged to my right. The center of the room was open space with a small stage in the back. Two guitars leaned next to a pair of tall amps and a set of drums. A guy with long greasy hair was adjusting a mike stand. Several heads turned our way as we made our way across the room, none of them making any attempt at hiding their interest. Their expressions a mix of menace, lust, and just plain amusement. I was beginning to feel unwelcomed. "Vampers. They're just curious," said Rick as he steered me to a small table near the stage. "Just smile at them. This place is one of the safest clubs in the city, Leo keeps it like that. The last thing a Vamper club needs is to draw attention to itself." "Speaking of Leo, what did he mean by the patrons being curious about me coming tonight? How did they know I'd be here?" "I did make reservations," Rick reminded me. "So you coming wasn't a secret." He slipped around and pulled out my chair for me then helped me ease up to the table before taking his seat. "I bet," I said only half believing that was it. "And another thing, you're being awfully proper tonight. What's up with that?" "This is a swanky place," he said. "People here expect men to be gentlemen and ladies to be ladies." "Did you just say swanky?" I laughed. "Where did you pick that one up, a Bogart movie?" For all my misgivings, I was having a good time. "Rick!" The female voice was exuberant. "You made it." A tall woman dressed in a red floor length gown rushed into view. She leaned down grabbing Rick in an embrace and half lifted him from his chair. After a moment she released him before pulling up an empty chair and plopping down beside him.. My nose picked up the scent of fresh blood. This woman was a Vamper and she'd recently fed. "Faith Goodeblood," said Rick, slipping his arm behind her. "Meet Maggie O'Brian. She owns La Chambre Rouge." I extended a hand. "Nice to meet you Ms. O'Brian." "Call me Maggie. May I call you Faith?" "Sure," I said. Something about Maggie's easy way made her likeable, Vamper or not. "I have to confess, Faith. Even though I'm way past the age to appreciate today's music, I was a big fan of Black Salt. I hated to hear you all broke up." She paused. "May I ask a favor? Could I persuade you to do one of your songs for us? It's something of a tradition at the La Chambre Rouge and in New Orleans in general. When you're honored with an accomplished musician such as yourself they most always do a complementary number." "Of course she will," said Rick before I could answer. Give us a moment to decide on what song." I shot Rick a dirty look. "You got it," said Maggie easing out of her chair. "Why in the hell did you say that?" I demanded when we had the table to ourselves. "I'm supposed to play in front of these people? Didn't you see the ugly looks they gave me?" "You're playing Faith tonight, remember?" Rick asked. "They expect you to do at least one song. Did you think you were only going to perform at home in the living room?" "No, but I thought it would be af--" "After you felt like you were ready?" Rick said. "You've been ready for a week. Look, if you pull this off word is going to spread like crazy that Faith Goodeblood still has her game on. We need that." I was keeping an eye on the stage while I decided whether to go through with what I was certain would end up a disaster, or to just get up and leave. Maggie was directing a group of waiters to move a baby grand (she'd found somewhere) to the stage when two men rushed toward her from the bar. The guy adjusting the mike left it to join them. They waved their hands and made rapid gestures at the instruments on the stage. I realized this was the band and they weren't very happy about me. The waiters, not wanting to get involved, wrestled the piano onto the stage and then left to tend their tables. The band huddled in a corner. "What am I supposed to sing anyway, provided I go through with this?" I asked Rick. "Whatever you want," he replied. "Good evening," said Maggie, she was at the microphone. "We have a great show for you all tonight boys and girls. You may have caught one of their performances around the city or heard them on the radio; Molten Orange is in the house." The crowed cheered and whistled. So that was who the band was. Now I understood why they'd been so upset. Though I'd never seen them play, Molten Orange was one the local groups rising to prominence on the national scene and had been Black Salt's biggest rival. As far as they were concerned, Faith Goodeblood was a "persona non grata". "Molten Orange will be performing shortly" Maggie went on, "but first we have a special guest for you tonight. She's the keyboardist and vocalist from Black Salt. Please welcome, Faith Goodeblood." "Stand," Rick whispered. I got to my, feet greeted by only a handful of applause. It was clear that Molten Orange was the preferred entertainment. There was still time to run but all of Molten Orange was watching, condescending smirks on their faces. They were enjoying the half- hearted reception I'd received and that pissed me off. I decided I wasn't going anywhere. "Come on up, Faith," Maggie said. "The stage is yours." I pushed my chair back, marched onto the stage and took a seat at the piano. The guitar player, the skinny guy with the long greasy hair sidled up to me. "I need you guys to clear out," I said. I didn't want these fuck heads anywhere around me. "You go on after I'm finished." "You don't understand cutie pie," said greasy hair. "This is our stage, our show. We're gonna play backup band except we get to be the stars. I just hope you can keep up. Things might get technical." "You still have time to cut out," said the bass player, a pudgy faced guy with buck teeth and buzz cut. He'd been adjusting his amp, now he'd come over to throw his weight into the mix. "Save yourself some embarrassment." "Just get up and leave by the stage door in the back," said greasy hair guitar player. "We'll even make an excuse for you, maybe say you got your period." They laughed. Something boiled over inside me, a rage like I'd never felt before. I longed to rip the leer off pudgy boy's face, and then tear out the hair of the greasy bastard beside him. My finger's stiffened, contracting into claws. My lips drew back; I could hear the pounding hearts of the two soon to be victims as I tensed ready to spring on them, tear out their throats with my teeth and lap up the crimson fountains that would gush from the wounds. "Paul no!" a part of me screamed from inside my head. Alarmed at what I was about to do, I fought for control, pushing back on my anger before it carried me over the edge. I took a breath, then another, forcing my hands to unclench, forcing myself to relax. There was a better way to hit back. I grabbed the mike off my piano. "Before I get started," I said, keeping my voice sugary sweet, "I want to thank Molten Orange for filling in for my band, Black Salt." Greasy hair looked at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. Buzz Cut just looked confused. "Ready fellows?" I asked. "Night's Passage in D." Before the drummer could count us off, I began. Night's Passage started with the piano picking out the same melody as the vocal. Molten Orange, familiar with the song, stood ready, waiting for me to reach last bars of the into, where the guitars join in softly strumming. Totally disregarding the way it was supposed to be, they had dialed in their amps to full distortion. The lead player's fingers twitched nervously, forming and reforming the power chord he planned to attack me with, sabotaging the song. Only they weren't expecting what I did next. There was a cool piece of music I'd stumbled on surfing YouTube called "Requiem of a Dream". It had the same haunting qualities as "Night's Passage" and fit perfectly into my improvised extended intro. It was like I'd caught fire. My fingers began to fly over the keys; the notes soared as my right hand climbed into the higher registers my left pounding out the bass in minors. The piano sang and growled. "What in hell are you doing?" yelled Buzz Cut. He clutched his bass like a drowning sailor clutching at a piece of shipwrecked wood. The greasy hair guitarist tried to jump in but couldn't to keep up with the blaze of notes pouring from my piano. Giving up he unslung his six-string and left the stage. Grasping the fact they'd missed their chance, the rest Molten Orange surrendered. The Buzz Cut propped his bass against his amp while the drummer tucked away his sticks, following the guitar player to the bar. I was left on stage alone. Whatever spirit had ridden me at Faith's house possessed me again. I gave myself over to it willingly as I finished with the piano and broke into song. The audience shouted their approval and then grew hushed as they connected with lyrics: The day long passed it's time for sleep. You'll walk within the realm of dreams The moon rides high on darkness deep Through your open window I watch unseen Slumber on my tender child Wrapped hap'ly in the sandman's spell. For when you wake upon the morn The day will joy of dreams dispel I sounded the final chord signaling the song's end and looked out at the crowd, surprised to see the entire club on its feet. Their applause rang like thunder in my ears. The faces that looked back at me were bright with excitement. Maggie mounted the stage and grabbed a mike. "Faith Goodeblood, everyone," she said gesturing my way and the crowd burst into another round of cheers. I hoisted myself to my feet, holding on to the piano to keep from sinking to the floor. The performance had burned up every bit of my energy. I left the stage dazed, amazed at the crowd's response. They loved me. There was someone new sitting next to Rick when I reached our table but I was too exhausted to care. It was all I could do keep upright in my chair. "Faith I'd like to introduce you to the one and only Rambo Thor," said Rick. "'ello luv," said Rambo with the thick cockney of an East Londoner. I raised my head just enough to acknowledge the guy on the other side of the table. "From the bloody' looks o' it, you could use a nip," he said. Rambo dipped into an inside pocket of his jacket and lifted out a flask. He extended it toward me. "Go on," he said. "Take it." I took it, unscrewed the cap and sniffed. Blood. I glanced at Rick. "Donor stuff," said Rambo. "From a local blood bank. It's been checked for viruses and drugs. Certified clean and safe." "You're a Vamper," I said, my voice sluggish. "And you need to feed. Go on drink it all. I had plenty earlier." I lifted the flask toward Rambo in a salute before tipping it back and gulping down the thick coppery liquid, growing stronger with each swallow. While I drank I checked out my benefactor. Though not as big as Leo, the guy was ripped. I could see muscle bulge beneath his sport coat. His beak like nose and Mohawk hair style reminded me of a bird of prey, a hawk, or falcon. "You're quite the little girl," he said causing me to bristle. I wasn't little or a girl. "You set them Molten Orange fellows on their 'eads. Loved that intro by the way. Did you lift it from "Requiem of a Dream?" "Yeah," I said. "They were a bunch of ass holes so I decided to throw them a curve." "Is that what you call it, a curve?" He laughed. "I saw it more like a schoolmarm taking a class of dimwits to task. I say well done you." "You were awesome Faith," said Rick. "But you made some enemies. Molten Orange is not going to forget that you made them look like fools." "I wouldn't worry over much about those punks," said Rambo. "I've dealt with worse," He checked his watch; it was big, gold and expensive looking. "Got to run," he said cheerily. He reached across the table and took my hand. "Nice to have met you, Faith." He got to his feet and placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "I'll be by tomorrow night after I talk to the others. I'm fairly sure we can make this work. Garden district, right?" "Yes, the address is on the back of the card I gave you," said Rick. "We're good then," said Rambo. Giving me a nod he made to leave. "Rambo wait," I called. "You forgot this." I held up the flask. "Keep it," he said. "You might need it again sometime." I watched Rambo make his way out of the club . "Do you know who that was?" Rick asked. "Rambo Thor," I said. "At least that's who he said he was." "Not Rambo Thor, Faith, the Rambo Thor." He pronounced it as "thee". "Okay, "thee" Rambo Thor, what about him other than his parents saddled him with a shitty name? It reminds me of a Norse god packing an AR 15." "I'm trying to be serious," Rick said sourly. "So am I." "Rambo Thor is the most sought after studio drummer in the European Union. He's played with every major rock group you can name and you impressed the hell out of him tonight. In his own words, you blew him away." I was floored. I knew the club goers had liked me but to be recognized by someone like that was too much to wrap my head around. This was what I'd always wanted. "That's not the best news," Rick continued. "Are you ready for this?" He reached across and grabbed my hands in his clutching them tightly. "He wants to form a band with you. Rambo Thor wants to be in your band." As Rick drove us home, I thought about everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. I'd gone from male to female, human to Vamper. I was living life as Faith Goodeblood a role I'd been forced into unwillingly. And when I played; I was like a musical demon so much so I'd impressed one of Britain's greatest drummers. But most alarming was how I was changing. I'd had that uncontrollable attraction to Rick in the bedroom. Whatever possessed me was turning me into something new, someone different than who I was, and I seemed powerless to stop it. I only hoped I would find a way before it was too late.