Immortal 3: Stealer of Souls (excerpt)

She was Annabelle’s shadow, trailing the dark woman as she rode in horse drawn carriages, sipped wine on balconies, danced in chandelier lit ballrooms. But she always returned home to her quarter alongside the river.

Now the twin moons shined through twisted branches. The vampire followed their light down the dusty road to the juke joint. Unseen **** walked alongside her.

They stepped inside a wooden shack, the air thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of frying meat… Annabelle felt the glances of the crowd and didn’t have to probe their minds to know their thoughts.

How she dress the way she do, when she don’t never do no work?

Where she been all this time, to come showing up now?

She still looks the same -- not a day older! It ain’t natural!

Envy. Curiosity. Fear.

Annabelle sauntered over to the far left corner to where Fatback, the proprietor, sat beside a tub of beer. A table of liquor and glasses was set up beside the tub.

The big, yellow man smiled up at her. “Hey pretty, whatcho want?”


Fatback poured her shot of clear liquid. “That’s a mighty strong drink, little girl. Sure you can handle it?”

She favored him with a smile, and dug into the pocket of her dress for a crumpled bill. As Annabelle sipped her drink, she let her eyes roam over the couples grinding in one another‘s arms. Her eyes settled on one heavily built, brown man.

Fatback smirked. “That’s Roscoe, a married man. Not that you care.”

She sent her burning thoughts to Roscoe… his eyes found hers and slid down her body like butter.

He wound his way through the dancers, and after the briefest hesitation gave her his hand. “You wanna dance?”

Wordlessly she stepped into his arms and their bodies pressed together, his pungent odor in her nostrils, and slipped her hands down the hard muscles of his back.

At the front of the juke, on a crude wooden stage, a buxom young woman sang, accompanied by men playing the piano and harmonica:


“Like a gal starving

I’m hungry for your touch

Need your lovin’ bad

             And just can’t get enough…”


Annabelle whispered in his ear: “I’m going home. Wanna come?”

He gave her a lazy smile. “We ain’t got to go that far… Let’s go outside.”

“You want me? Then meet me at the water pump behind my cabin.”

“Where --”

She put her fingers to his lips. “You’ll find it,”

She left him standing in the middle of the floor, staring after her. After the briefest hesitation, Roscoe walked outside. She was gone.

But her voice called to him.

It should’ve frightened him, but instead his desire swelled until he thought he’d lose his mind. Roscoe ran the length of the road, following her honeyed murmur… to the quarter. To her cabin...


Copyright 2008, 2009, 2010 Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson all rights reserved

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