There was a small table set up on the balcony of his rented home. The balcony overlooked the lush jungle of the home's backyard. At one point the house had belonged to one of the old wealty families of New Orleans, but more recently had been the sole property of a famous author whose born again conversion to Christianity had made her give up the estate in favor of other lodgings. Around him the air hung heavy with the wetness of a New Orleans summer heat filled with humidity. Even early in the day it was heavy here, the air a tangible presence that couldn't be ignored. Ishmael had just sat down to breakfast, enjoying the scent of freshly brewed chickory coffee and succulent fruit when he saw the newspaper folded at the side of the table.
The staff had prepared the table for him, everything they did here was more lush and less efficient than in his own home. His staff would have known that he didn't like to recline out of doors when there was work to be done, but this place seemed to have an effect on him. Even the stony heart of lonely Ishmael Goldman could be somewhat melted by the romance and intoxicating richness of this historic city. After only a few days the slow luxuriating effect of the city was sinking into him. With that affecting his motions he reached out and unfolded the paper, the Times Picayune, and was imediately drawn in to the front page news story.
There was a large black and white picture on the front page of a small Parish in the North Eastern part of Louisianna. Population 298 the tiny parish was small town glory in all its fame. Or at least it used to be. The picture which he assumed had only been taken the day before was of a main street in the middle of a tiny town. It looked like any other small town square until you looked closer and saw the bodies draped over sidewalks, the buildings crumbling in disarray, complete destruction glaringly obvious in every inch of the photograph.
The name of the Parish which was written in the caption was not unknown to him. In fact it was a place very close to his heart at the moment. Steely cold gray eyes contemplated the article and he found his hard lips curling in a sad smile. It seemed that the final test had been a success. As if on cue he heard his cell phone buzzing on the table. Without even looking he knew who it would be. Not Merrick, not Linore, not any of his employees or business contacts. It was time. Folding the paper and setting it aside again he picked up the phone and left his breakfast on the lanai. There was more important business to attend to now.
Times Picayune Article
The sleepy town of Tylor Parish, population 298 was devestated yesterday in an inexplicable attack. This attack didn't come from the outside but rather from the population itself. Police and other authorities are stunned and offer no comment on the cause of the destruction. Some speculate that biochemical testing might have been to blame and the local government is fast at work to discover what might have happened. There was only one survivor of the bizarre attack, 6 year old Jenny Lewis who was found on Main Street hiding beneath the rubble of a destroyed store front. Miss Lewis was unavailable for interview at this time due to an enforced hospital stay. More information will be released as it is found. For now though, only the dead know what happened in Tylor Parish, and the dead don't talk. At least, not to this reporter.
-When they reached the tiny town Angie let her eyes roam over the surroundings. Large oak trees seemed to grow everywhere shrouding the square in spanish moss and making it look as though the land itself claimed this place rather than the small number of inhabitants. This was the sort of spot that people would call "back woods" or "back water" more astutely since the whole place backed up to the marshy swamp land that seemed to be everywhere in Louisianna. As she and Nico climbed out of the convertible Angie's nose crinkled delicately, not liking the smell of staleness and mildew that seemed to seep from the crevices of this place. They had parked at the edge of town so that they would not be noticed right away. In a town with this small a population new people would stick out like a sore thumb, and she and Nico most certainly weren't blend into the woodwork kind of people; at least not without the appropriate amount of power to do the job for them.-
-Nico still didn't have his full faculties, his memory for instance wasn't entirely in tact. For her purposes though that was perfectly fine. It was a side effect of the microchip that worked to her ends quite nicely. She knew what was best for Nico. There was no need for him to remember things that might be unpleasent for him. Walking side by side with him through the moss covered trees she stood only as tall as the middle of his chest and that too was something she liked about this new Nico. The body he had now was much better than the one he'd been born into originally. This body was taller, stronger, and had something primitive about it that made her well bred fortitude hungry for more.-
"Oh! That one Nico. Let's use that one."
-She pointed ahead of them towards a spot in the shade of a large tree where a young girl was playing. The little humans were so cute. Ridiculously breakable, but cute. Near where the girl played there was a small house and behind the house what looked like a shack but was probably some kind of garage or work room. Nico didn't hesitate or ask her any questions and she liked the way that he moved towards the girl and simply grabbed her by the back of her Osh Kosh Bagosh overalls, hoisting her into the air and clamping a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream. The childs eyes were wide as saucers and she was carried by the back of her britches towards the shed. Following up behind them Angie smiled to herself. The young girl looked like she was flying at Nico's side. He was so good with kids.-
-The wood on the outside of the shed was half rotting and the inside had that same smell of decay. Nico plopped the child on a work bench to one side of the shed and Angie leaned against his side letting her dainty hand rub at the hard washboard of his stomach. The little girl looked too shocked to scream, or maybe she was just a little slow. There was a certain aspect to her face that made the child look like she might not be all there anyway. Rising on her tiptoes and using a hand against Nico's chest to balance Angie whispered her idea in his ear.-
"Give her a kiss love. Let her spread the chaos."
-Backing a step away from Nico she let him go to the child. Angie's tiny hands clasped in front of her, the delicate tip of her chin lowering to rest against the tips of her fingers. It was wonderful to feel that whisper of power as Nico kissed the childs forehead and the veins in the childs forehead throbbed black for a moment beneath her pale skin. The childs face went blank for a moment and then she grinned wickedly and hopped off the work bench as Nico moved back to Angie's side.-
-Her arm looped around his waist, resting the side of her head against Nico's chest. She felt fully relaxed, completely at peace and she wanted more. The child pushed her way out of the shed and ran towards the small house nearby. A few minutes later they could hear screams coming from the house and knew that the kiss would be spread. All they had to do was wait and let the chaos spread. They could feed their spirits on that chaos and then return the energy around them like a feedback loop that would heighten and increase the spread of Nico's infectious kiss. To a psychic the town would look like a slowly growing black auric haze, the darkness spreading slowly throughout the people of the town.-
