She lead them down the hallway slowly, seemingly wanting them to take in all the decor. It was adorned with warped paintings and twisted statues. At the first of the hall, they were completely unidentifieable, but as they progressed, each became clearer.
At last, they came to a painting that was totally clear, and so skillfully done that it seemed more of a photograph. Jessie stopped in front of it and began to study it. James, Father Cassius, and The Primaves took this as a signal to do the same.
The scene was set in front of a lovely French resturaunt, La Chat Noir. Even though it seemed to be in the more rundown part of the town, the people seemed adequately dressed; that is, not in rags. It was obviously a high profile place with the artsy crowd there. The scene seemed to be a place taken right out of 17th century France.
There were several people outside sitting alone, many staring at a small, blank canvas, some at a blank sheet of paper, sketching pencils in hand, and others writing enthusiatically in handmde, rugged notebooks. But there were, of course, actual customers there, eating less than appatizing food. One particular customer caught James' eye almost immediately. He was a tall, platinum blonde man with thick, dark eyebrows, small eyes, thin lips, and a Roman nose. He bore a striking resemblence to the man who had been peeking in on he and Jessie earlier that morning. As they watched, it seemed to come alive.
"Pardon me, Masemoiselle, but I am ready to order." Said the man, calling the waitress. She quickly came over, readied her notepad, and smiled at him, signaling to hm that she was ready to take his order."I would like the poulet and a citron presse."
"Right away, monsieur." Answered the waitress, going back inside. He began to read a book as he waited.
Suddenly, two cloaked figures appeared beside the man's table.He looked up, startled at first, then scared.
"Ah, Damien, finally we find each other." It was Delilah's voice.
"Look,"began the man in a shaky voice,"I made clear before to you that I had no interest in your cult. And I am Jean, Jean, Madame."
"Let us make none haste, brother." Dandre's voice."You might have a mind change." His voice was sly as he pointed to an alleywas where a woman was hogtied and knocked out.
Jean looked at the figures with hatred mixed with fear in his eyes."You monsters! How could you bring my wife into this!"
"Come with us now, Damien, and perhaps we will let live your beautiful young wife." added Delilah
.Jean looked at his wife as tears welled up in his eyes. He seemed no to hear them.
"She was pregnant, you you..
Come now, Damien, there is no need for tears. You can still save one life." Said Delilah.
Jean thought for a moment, tears streaming down his cheek as he looked wistfully towards the woman in the alleyway."Ok." He said finally."I shall go with you, if she may live."
"You have made a smart choice, young one." Dandre and Delilah grabbed each of his wrists and lead him out of sight. Minutes later, the waitress came out of the resturant with Jean's food. When she didn't see him, she began to go back inside, tray in hand, when she caught sight of his wife in the alley. She dropped her tray out of surprise and ran to help the woman.
Reality faded back to them and they stepped away, a diffferent scene now depicted in the same painting; a depressed woman calling out for her husband as the young waitress tried to restrain her...They looked around to see that Jessie was gone. Desiree was still staring intently at the picture.
"Who is that man that you carried away?" She asked, turning to Dandre and Delilah.
That was Damien, before his ritual." Said Delilah quietly.
He had blonde hair?" inquired LaDominique
Dandre nodded.
Jessie returned, walking from the direction they had been headed before. She was carrying a colorelss statue that depicted the same man depicted in the painting. He was chained to the ground, asleep seemingly
They watched in awe as it spontaneously gained color, and motion, and consciousness.Instantly, they were in a mediocre-sized stone hut-like house, staring at the man as he awakened with a splash of water from the now uncloaked Delilah and Dandre.
"Are you ready for your initiation ritual, Damien?" She asked playfully.
He only stared at her stone-faced,"Do what you want, wench."
"All that anger!"She laughed."I knew a fine addition you'd make to our little family." Delilah looked over at Dandre who had taken a seat in the corner of the room.
"Begin." He said.
She smiled devilishly at Jean, who was now Damien."What do you prefer," she began, walking over to a table that contained many weapons."We've got a tusk dagger, a stiff rope, a nice little bottle of poison, and my favorite," She said, clicking an old-looking gun,"my new toy, a musket."
"I care not." he said.
"Oh, you are no fun." She came closer to him and pointed the musket right at his head.
"Wait, Delilah. He has given us many trifles and caused much pain in avoiding this inevitable event. We return the favor should, no?" He laughed."Use the rope." He said menacingly."
She nodded and smiled, grabbing the rope and replacing it with the musket. She kneeled down near his head and wrapped the rope around his neck, looking into his face the entire time."This is going to hurt, child, more than you ever know."She tightened it slightly."You know why? This rope is special." More yet, she tightened it. It was now cutting off his breathing slightly."It has been coated in alcohol." Tightened more."With every bit of skin it chafes off, you will feel the sting of alcohol."Tightened agian. She continued this until she had completely choked the life out of him. She then pulled a dagger out of a holster around her waist. It had French words branded into the blade.
Delilah tore the clothes from his chest and began carving strange symbols into his chest, lapping up the blood that poured from his wounds like a cat. Once finished, she chanted something, and the symbols began to glow.
It was then that time sped up, and before their eyes, twenty-four hours passed. During those hours, the short-haired blond Jean became the long haired, raven headed Damien, his skin growing pale and cold. It had been exactly twenty-four hours when he began to awake. Delilah and Damien stood over him, waiting patiently for him to awaken.
"Why did his hair turn black?" Asked Delilah.
The anger and regret in his heart must have made his powers greater. Only the strongest of Primaves sport Raven hair.
He was now fully awake, and soon broke through the chains holding him to the ground. Damien immediatly attacked them, pinning them against the wall with his immense strength, his teeth drawn out, his body transforming into its true were-wolve like apperarance. They too transformed and, with a little struggle, fought him off.
The sculpture crumbled in Jessie's hands, and they were all back in the hall.