L. A. Banks is the bestselling author of the Vampire Huntress Legend series, which consists of twelve volumes. She is currently working on a graphic novel and manga scripts based on the series, and a young adult trilogy set in the same milieu is due out in 2010. Earlier this year, the latest in her Crimson Moon werewolf series, Undead on Arrival, was released. In 2008, Banks was named the Essence Magazine Storyteller of the Year.
Having thoroughly explored the hip-hop, urban vampires in the Vampire Huntress Legends, with this story Banks wanted to try her hand at a historical vampire tale, in the vein of the classic vampire sagas. ''Finders Keepers' is about a centuries-old vampire who finds herself alone in the modern world,' Banks said. 'It was fun going back in time and dealing with the prejudices against women, minorities, as well as a lot of the social power paradigms that existed then (and now). There's always a thread of social justice that runs through my work, wanting to see those who probably will never (in real life) be brought to justice get their due.'
Atlantic City, New Jersey
She kissed his forehead, tasting the thin sheen of salty moisture that still lingered on his skin, considering him before she gently closed his eyes. He had a handsome face, that of a Roman; dark lashes that rested against his now porcelain-pale skin; a strong, aristocratic nose; rugged square jaw. But he wasn't a keeper.
Slightly forlorn, she peeled herself away from his nude, lifeless body with a sigh, studying the tall, athletic form in repose on the bed as she took her time to dress. A thread-width finger of crimson seeped from his wound, the scarlet beacon drawing her back to his side to taste the last of him. His body twitched from the invasion; she kissed his lips as a goodbye and a thank you, leaving a red print of his essence against his mouth. But he wasn't a keeper.
Death was like delicious prose when delivered with elegance and style. It had a prologue, a body, and then an epilogue, no less than fine dining replete with an appetizer, entree, followed by dessert. The composition of it all was quiet, pleasurable, and perfect. She felt no guilt as she turned toward the terrace doors and faced the moon. She would shower later, back at her lair. This man's death was an elegant kill, as always. Society was the better for it, she was the better for it, and if there was an Ultimate Maker, then the drained man on the bed could hash out the particulars with the judge of creation regarding whether or not his life had been lived in vain.
It was always a philosophical question that niggled her-would a so-called victim dare ask the Divine for recompense, after having killed so many men himself for blood money? One less mob enforcer lost at a casino would not imperil the world. Perhaps she provided a true service to mankind. The man her feed would have killed tonight had been given a night of reprieve… an honest man would therefore get one more night to live-she just hoped he'd made the most of the time.
A slight smile graced her lips, exposing a hint of fang as she retracted them. Her logic was sound in her own mind as she leaped up on the terrace railing, balancing on it for a moment before allowing the night to pull her into its dark folds of freedom.
Wind rushed through her hair and buffeted her face. Plummeting helped her remember being alive, the joy, the fear, the pain.
But after a few moments, she finally allowed the fierceness of the wind to abate so she could hover on the gentleness of the evening breeze. Floating high above the Atlantic City boardwalk, her thoughts drifted to her human days. Back then, it was the humans who were beasts. Things were not so different now, she reasoned, spying the antlike creatures that dotted the boardwalk and streets below. Humans killed more of their own than her kind did, and for much more senseless reasons. Men who'd wanted her called her a witch-when she denied their advances; women who'd envied her beauty joined in their persecution. Murderous group thinking prevailed over logic, as was the human way.
The verdict was simple and heartless. It was in everyone's best interest that she be exterminated, everyone's best interest but hers. Mysterious deaths had been blamed on her sorcery, when all she'd had was the gift, or curse, of second sight. No one had given a single thought to the nobleman stranger that had recently come ashore with his ship and largess. He was above the law and above their suspicion or contempt. They had been elegantly glamoured.
People. She hated that she even needed them for blood.
The midnight blue horizon drew her attention. Moonlight sent shards of opalescence to ripple against the blue-black water. It was so beautiful. If she could stay airborne all night, she would.
Memories rolled across her mind in unrelenting waves. Haiti was a small lush place then… too small to hide in. Who would risk their life to give sanctuary to a motherless child? No one was that brave when a mob came calling. They'd easily found her, had mercilessly beaten and violated her, and then dragged her to a pyre to cover their shame. Already half-dead from the abuse and hemorrhaging badly, they'd lit tinder around her. Flames quickly caught the hem of her ragged dress. Heat raced up her legs, but she was too weak to move and could barely scream. Her protest came out as a deep, resounding moan of agony. She would have been their bonfire that night, had a man with honor not shown up. Maybe that's why she loved the weightlessness of vapor so.
That was how Alfonse had come to her, as vapor.
Searing heat had given way to cool relief. The jeers and curses all around her had turned into screams of terror. Something that no human mind could fathom had rescued her from the flames, and now the townspeople knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was more on the island to fear than her. The least likely person, the nobleman of means, wielded the wrath and destructive power of an entity that they were horrified to name.
Humans fled. The beach had returned to a place of peace beneath the moon. A gentle hand had cradled her skull, lifting her throat to his mouth. A gentle whisper offered her a choice with a promise, 'I will not hurt you; do you want to live?'
Something human within her recoiled as she swallowed her own blood, but that feral, primal animus within knew she was dying, and it fought with all its might to survive. Blood choked her words; all she could do was nod. But her mind screamed a thousand questions as his beautiful lips parted and the moonlight glinted off his fangs.
Yet, his murmur was so serene. 'Relax. I must do this now before your heart stops beating or it will be too late,
cherie.'
She remembered her
making as though it were only moments ago. More than two hundred years still could not eclipse the horror of what people had done to her, nor could she ever forget what Alfonse had given her.
Through his sanguine kiss, her broken bones and violated flesh had begun to knit as her muscles relaxed. Raw nail beds from fighting rapists and aggressors began to heal. Pain literally ceased with his kiss, and then there was only sweet pressure at her neck. Life was draining out of her with each suckle; the world slowed down, her hearing dulled, her eyes closed against the moon. The burns that had engulfed her legs cooled, the puffiness of her swollen face eased. For a moment, there was a velvet cloak of dark peace that enveloped her, a totality of nothingness so peaceful that if she could have, she would have wept. Initially, she could feel him, then see him within her mind's eye as he threw his head back with his eyes closed, ecstasy staining his expression, chest heaving from the exertion, moonlight casting crimson prisms in saliva and blood against porcelain canines. He was horrifying and gorgeous, this nobleman that had claimed her.
'Breathe,' he'd commanded.
A gasp shuddered through her and relief made him hug her.
Tears stung her eyes as she searched for a place to discreetly land amongst the modern day humans that strolled the Atlantic City boardwalk so carefree at night. It was time to return her thoughts to the present. Without Alfonse, the past was a place of pain.
But the memories had a stranglehold on her. Her first question upon her awakening in Alfonse's arms had been so naive.
'I will live?'
His dark eyes had flashed with both triumph and remorse. '
Non. You will exist.' He'd then touched her disheveled hair with reverence. 'I'm sorry, it was the only way.'
Even then she hadn't fully understood. All she was sure of was that a strange nobleman had found her and had saved her at her darkest hour. His handsome face still haunted her… deeply intense, dark eyes… thick brows furrowed in a frown of concern. Square jaw owning a slight cleft. Strong, Romanesque nose. A shock of glistening brunette hair spilling across his shoulders when the wind tired of it. His mouth lush and ruby-stained, punished by the suckle.
'Why didn't you just let me die?' It had seemed fair enough a question then.
'Because you'd fought so hard to live, and what they'd accused you of was a lie. I am a man of principle. Without principles, we are all just animals.'
His admission became a sensual murmur that bonded them forever. 'I have watched you since I came to this island… you are an exquisite beauty that I could never allow to endure the sentence for my sins. Even being what I am, there is a code of ethics. Never take more than you need, never take from those who are innocent,
ma cherie. Break no hearts; cull the herd of its own beasts. Feed from the damned and don't allow them to wake up. They'd blamed you for my feeds, a convenient scapegoat to give them license to act out their lusts and anger. Fools, the lot of them. How could they think a woman who walks in the sunlight amongst them could be capable of such crimes?'
Still, she wasn't sure of what he'd admitted, but she did understand how a woman of no pedigree, no social standing, born at the wrong time to the wrong majority could be blamed. Her response had pained him as she'd taken up his hand within hers.
'Look at my hand, look at yours. What do you see? Look at your clothes, look at mine. That is enough of a reason for them to excuse you and to lynch me.'
She'd expected him to snatch his hand away in offense, but her simple truth had gentled his expression from outrage at the mob that had violated her humanity to something else that she, even now, couldn't describe. His words had become tender like his touch, his fingers dappling the pleasure of a caress against her cheek as he'd spoken in a gentle timbre.
'I see beautiful, cinnamon-hued skin perfumed by oils and flavors of the earth. I see deep, amber-brown, expressive eyes, so gorgeous and with depth so vast that they rival the jewel-blue sea. I see thick, lush tendrils of mahogany hair that appears to be as velvet under the night sky. I see a face of an angel, a mouth so inviting I tremble.'
He looked away out toward the surf, his voice becoming distant as he spoke a truth that was hard to bear. 'I've also sadly witnessed a soul that was pure have to flee its earthly housing well before its time, heard a heart that was loving stop beating while you were in my arms… then, as now, I see a body created in majesty that is still yearning for affection beyond lust. I see a brilliant mind trapped in an era of ignorance, straining for recognition and release. I see a woman held captive by circumstance and accident of birth, a hostage of men who have no right to own another living soul. The small attention I gave you upon arriving here at night caused them to hate you more… jealousy is a tireless monster that no one can understand.'
It was her turn to look away then. Tears mixed with rage as she remembered the respectful attention the new nobleman had given her, and the way men with lesser wealth had resented her reciprocated charm. Women on the island, black and white, hated her because of the attention she'd garnered from the wealthy
