Tales from NOLA

I’d seen it before, a hundred times. The look on someone’s face when they realised the person they loved was gone for good. But nothing quite hit like seeing it on Harold Shoemaker. His eyes were wide, glassy with disbelief, as he stared at me across the desk in my office. The envelope of cash he’d handed me at the start of this mess sat untouched, a silent reminder of the promise I couldn’t keep.

“She said that?” he whispered, his voice barely there. “She said... she doesn’t want to come back?”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle in like the humid air pressing down on the city. “Yeah, Harold. She said she’s chosen a new life, one that doesn’t include you.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. I could see the battle playing out behind his eyes—the denial, the disbelief, the hope that this was all just some twisted mistake. I’d been there myself, a long time ago, staring into the cold reality that someone you love isn’t the same anymore. The fact that it was a vampire who’d twisted Nancy into what she’d become didn’t make it any easier for Harold to accept.

“I need to see her,” he said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “I can talk to her. If I just... if I can just talk to her, I know I can make her see reason. She’s my wife, Jake. She’ll listen to me.”

I shook my head, already feeling the headache coming on. “Harold, it’s not that simple. She’s not the same person you knew. She’s... under Leander’s influence now, and whatever hold he has on her, it’s deep. You won’t be able to just waltz in there and convince her to come home.”

His face hardened with a desperation that sent a warning flare through my gut. “She’s my wife,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. “I have to try. You don’t understand, Jake. I can’t just walk away from her.”

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. I’d seen this play out too many times. “You’re not walking away, Harold. She already did. You go in there, and you might not come back out.”

But Harold wasn’t hearing me. His mind was made up, locked into that single desperate thought—the belief that love could pull her back from whatever abyss she’d fallen into. I’d have told him to leave it alone, that some things can’t be undone, but I knew how this city worked. Once you were in, you were in. And Harold was already in too deep to claw his way out.

“I’ll take you,” I said, my voice flat. “But I’m telling you right now, this won’t go the way you think. And if things go sideways, you listen to me, and you get out of there. Got it?”

He nodded, though I wasn’t sure he was really hearing me.

Club Neo looked the same as it had the night before, neon lights casting long shadows over the entrance, the bass-heavy music spilling out into the streets. This time, though, the place felt colder, more dangerous. Maybe it was because I knew what we were walking into, or maybe it was because I had Harold with me, his desperation like a target painted on his back.

The bouncer didn’t give me any trouble. He just eyed Harold like he already knew what was coming, stepping aside with that same silent menace that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Inside, the club was as packed as ever. Bodies moved to the rhythm of the music, but there was a tension in the air, something darker, something expectant. Like the whole place was holding its breath.

Eddie fell in step beside me as we pushed through the crowd. He’d been quiet since I told him about Harold’s decision. His usual wit was absent, and that alone told me he didn’t like where this was headed.

“You sure about this?” Eddie muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any sign of trouble. “This feels like a trap, mate.”

“I know,” I said, my jaw tight. “But Harold’s not going to back down. And if we don’t help him, he’ll come here alone. You know how that’ll end.”

Eddie’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Yeah. In blood.”

We found Leander exactly where I expected him—lounging in the same velvet-draped VIP section, a glass of something dark in his hand, looking for all the world like he owned the place. And he did. The vampires around him parted as we approached, their eyes gleaming with hunger and curiosity.

“Broussard,” Leander said, his voice as smooth as silk. “Back so soon? And you brought company. How delightful.”

I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Harold wants to see Nancy.”

Leander raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Ah, the devoted husband. How touching. I must admit, I didn’t expect you to be so determined.”

Harold stepped forward before I could say anything. “I just want to talk to her,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Please, Mr. Leander. Let me talk to my wife.”

Leander studied him for a long moment, and I could see the wheels turning behind those cold, dark eyes. Then, with a graceful wave of his hand, he nodded. “Very well. I’m nothing if not accommodating to matters of the heart.”

I felt a chill crawl up my spine. This was too easy. Leander was enjoying this, playing us like pieces on a board. But I’d come too far to back out now.

A moment later, Nancy appeared, moving through the shadows with that same eerie grace she’d had before. She was more radiant tonight, her skin glowing in the club’s dim light, her eyes sharp and otherworldly. She wasn’t fully turned yet, but she was close.

“Nancy,” Harold breathed, his eyes wide with hope and desperation. “Nancy, it’s me. It’s Harold.”

She stopped in front of him, her head tilted slightly, like she was studying him from a distance. “Harold,” she said, her voice soft, but cold. Detached. “Why are you here?”

“I came to take you home,” Harold said, stepping closer. “I don’t care what’s happened. I don’t care about any of this... this vampire business. I just want you to come home. We can fix this. We can go back to the way things were.”

For a moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes—something almost human, like she was hearing him, really hearing him. She took a step toward him, and for the briefest second, I thought maybe, just maybe, Harold’s plea was getting through.

Then she smiled. But it wasn’t the smile of a woman touched by love. It was something darker, colder.

“I am home,” she said, her voice smooth, deadly. “This is where I belong now, Harold.”

“No,” Harold whispered, shaking his head. “No, you don’t mean that. You’re not like them. This isn’t you.”

Nancy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Harold, pulling him close in an embrace that, for a moment, looked like forgiveness. Harold let out a shaky breath, holding onto her like she was his lifeline, whispering her name over and over, like he could pull her back through sheer willpower.

But then she lowered her head to his neck.

It happened so fast I almost didn’t register it. One second, Harold was holding onto her, and the next, Nancy’s fangs were sinking into his throat, the sound of blood rushing between them like the final note of a dark symphony. Harold gasped, his eyes going wide with shock, his body going limp in her arms as she drained him dry.

I felt my stomach drop. This wasn’t just a feeding. This was something more. The final step in her transformation, sealing her fate, her humanity lost forever.

“Jesus,” Eddie whispered beside me, his voice barely audible over the music. “It was a damn ritual.”

Leander was smiling now, that same smug, self-satisfied smile. “You’ve played your part beautifully, Broussard. I couldn’t have orchestrated it better myself.”

The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. Leander had manipulated this whole thing, used me to bring Harold here so Nancy could complete her transformation. I’d been played, and worse, I’d led Harold straight into the lion’s den.

Nancy let Harold’s lifeless body drop to the floor, her eyes gleaming with a new power, a dark, terrifying beauty. She was one of them now. Fully, completely.

“You bastard,” I growled, rounding on Leander.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jake. You were simply a pawn in a much larger game. But look on the bright side—you’ve helped Nancy find her true self.”

I wanted to tear that smug smile off his face, but Eddie’s hand on my arm stopped me. We were outnumbered, and we both knew it. There was nothing left to do but walk away.

So we did.

Outside, the night felt heavier than before, pressing down on me with the weight of my own mistakes. Harold was dead. Nancy was lost. And Leander had played me like a fiddle from the start.

Eddie lit a cigarette, his hands steady, but his eyes were dark. “You alright, Jake?”

I didn’t answer right away, staring out at the city that had swallowed Harold whole. The city that never gave anything back once it took it.

“No,” I said finally, my voice rough. “I’m not.”

And with that, we walked into the night, the weight of New Orleans heavy on our backs, knowing there would always be more Harolds, more Nancys, and more monsters like Leander pulling the strings.