Cadaveria

"Time for vanity is over, you need to hunt Chere" Lestat cocky, sort of sadistic smile was spread all over his face. You can't say no to the arrogant prince of the night. Oh but Lestat did not guessed my motives when I licked my pearl white fangs. He couldn't listen to my thoughts now, and from the second I become a vampire my thoughts belonged only to me. He yawned in bore as he stepped up and carefully grabbed my wrist, tangling his fingers on mine. His skin was paler than mine, but he was not in need of blood, just a desire.

When Lestat touched my hands he realized I was powerful. Oh he should have guessed that I would end up to be the strongest of his creations, after all he had just drank Akasha's blood, but my master always subestimated me. Not that I ever gave it to much notice.

"All the arrangements have been previously done, Go give your goodbyes to your family"

I didn't take that long. They were certain that I was going on a nocturne school on England, and the goodbye was emotive, but brief. I agreed to call them every week, and e-mail them. As a vampire you end up admiring the modern technology, and the ancient structures both.

Then I returned to the room I had slept in during 4 years of my mortal life. As I said I had a list with it all. it was written on my diary, which Lestat had cheekily went over. Lestat had placed all on my bed and he was exterminating my possessions, gently caressing the guitar strings with a hand, and feeling the texture of my chains on the other. His head was tilt back and he was tasting the scent of tobacco on my unlit cigarette, which gracefully fell on his lower lip.

"Do vampires smoke?" I asked now quite interested on the answer, smoking was an addiction, but even vampires can get vicious. I walked past and grabbed the black guitar, the cool wood and the strings were now so easy to handle. I knew exactly how to tune it, and how to play it, but I didn't play any song. I was in a hurry to be quite honest.

A laugh came from the depths of his mouth. "I have never really tried" Lestat replied, snapping his fingers on it. A small dash of fire appeared on the cigarette, and he removed his fingers away from it. The snap had been quick enough to create fire out of friction, an useful trick that i don't think Lestat had ever tried. He handed me the smoke and I caught it between my lips. I aspired slowly, trying to feel any change. But Oh surprise, surprise the smoke came in and I felt a lump on my throat. A wild sensation took over my body, and I felt the blood inside rushing like gasoline to my brain, but it did me no damage.

We walked out of there with all my stuff. After a few simple orders they ended up packed in a black car that was waiting outside, and I went in. The car was a black BMW with a chauffeur at Lestat's service, and I sat on the velvet seats. He sat by me, and bore his head on my shoulder, sniffing the tobacco odor tied to me, and to my hair. His eyes were tight close and he was taking in the odor.

"Downtown, to the Belen Cemetery" I ordered the chauffeur, to Lestat's surprise, but he did not said a word. He seemed sort of curios about my intentions, and glad that I was taking over, at least for that night.

There is a big cemetery in this city, the oldest, the most legendary place of the city. It is located in the center of the town, right by the morgue. Though it's been past a century since it was closed. There are many, many bloody legends on it . Its not like those American simple cemeteries. It has the most lugubrious aspect, old, European even. I've always thought it was by far the best place in town.
The rusty and black metal gates, hanging from stone arcs,lead you to a wide blank. Everything is stone. Over the gates there is a stone sign of an angel and an owl. It is the creepiest place you could think off, and It had many, many legends around each and every grave stone.

The filth was ancient, the antique rocks, dust, dirt, the rock coffins. Everything is old, and it has that air so much like the cemetery of Les Innocents. But don't get me wrong I love that old fitlh. That spirit of putrid corpses that melted into the soil centuries ago.

Lestat was extasiated. His eyes glowed at everything he saw. He said he had never seen such similarities to European grave yards on a "New World"(as he insisted on calling it) cemetery. He lurched into the open tombs, and ran from grave to grave shouting in excitement. Like a kid with a new toy. I think he was so jubilant and absorb in it all, that he didn't noticed it.

We walked through the place with no set direction, at least that was what Lestat thought. The cemetery was a gigantic square, surrounded by tall walls with more tombs. The walls were in fact made on the front part of the coffins. Some had dates, and writings. Others were a blank space for a rott organism. There were stone corridors set, next to the walls. In fact it feels lot more like one of those Spanish parks. On the center of the square you can find a quiosco, below it the important tombs.

Lestat read every sign and date, making comments about this or that year. I don't know who the fuck did he not noticed it, but I did. Maybe because I knew where to look for it, but it remained a mystery to me. Most probably he did noticed, and was just expectant to see where that was going.

After he dived into the public graves, were dead people had been piled up in mounds. He showed desire for the back of the cemetery. You see the oldest tombs are on the square, the others are on a great extension of putrid land, in the back.

"You go, I wait here" I had not pronounced a word since we had entered. I had just nodded to his comments. Lestat went running (he loved to run) to the common graves, and I scanned the area looking for my direction.

Not a second passed when I found it. A sadistic smile came to my lips, and I approached the enormous tree.