I used to enjoy lavish parties. The people, both beautiful and powerful, that gathered at these events. The elegant silverware, the fine food, wine and the almost shameless extravagance of it all.  Even the conversation was enjoyable. I was one of the beautiful people after all, so being with people was easy, they were trying to please me instead of the other way around, so it was second-nature to me.

Mere days after my demise and I found myself back in the same environment. My death just days ago, was at one such a party, and yet here I was again, the party girl.

I guess old habits die hard, no pun intended.

We had been invited to an elegant plantation-style home on Cleveland Place, with beautiful tall glass windows overlooking Lake Ponchartrain as it glistened before us. Like all things New Orleans, the home was an elegant mix of old and new. The outside had the old-world feel, with its expansive gardens, replete with marble statues, creeping vines and bubbling fountains. Here, in New Orleans’ old and new, rich and poor, I found comfort and solace.

The people were the same too. A mix of the Nouveau Riche and Old Money; southern families who gained prominence and wealth during the plantation era. When men were not created equal. It was a travesty, that time, one that many prefer to forget, and yet bad history, like man’s many mistakes have a tendency not to be forgotten.

“Enjoying yourself, cherie?” Death was as charming as ever.

“I’m not quite sure yet, although I am certainly enjoying your real world self,” I said, smiling wryly at Death.

Death winked at me. He had lost the Fedora, his dark hair and dark eyes complimented him. he looked very much the part of the powerful and influential stock broker that he portrayed himself to be. What better disguise than a man who would attract the attention of the IRS? He was right after all. Death and Taxes.

“Look at this crowd of beautiful people,” Death waving his hand at the well dressed group in front of us and taking a sip of the Pinot Noir he had in his hand, holding the glass daintily by the stem and expertly swishing vigorously without spilling a drop. “You’ll allow me to re-introduce you of course?”

I smiled, and gracefully took his hand. “It would bring me nothing but pleasure.”

***

I remember myself still visibly shaking long after my original brush with the Class- D Vampire. It was a combination of the adrenaline rush I received and the enormity of everything I had learned just gradually sinking in.

“What do you mean my soul didn’t have a color?” I asked back then.

“There are a small number of extraordinary souls through the ages that don’t have a color. For those people, their destinies are theirs to write. The buddhists have a word for it: Nirvana. To ascend to divinity without going into the world beyond. These are souls that are capable of being reborn, to find another life because they cannot be judged.” Death took my hand calmly as we walked along the streets of the French Quarter.

“A soul without color is someone who can defy Death,” he said simply.

“Then you have cheated me by forcing your contract upon me without telling me this fact.”

“No, dear Vanessa, it’s quite the opposite,” said Death as he calmly strolled the streets. “You were offered the contract precisely because your soul didn’t have a color.”

I was walking at a rather rapid pace alongside Death. We strolled along St. Peter Street, near Louis Armstrong Park heading back toward Treme. St. Louis Cathedral was far behind us now. It had rained the night before, I remembered, or perhaps the very afternoon when I fell to my death. I wondered where my body was and how it was doing. It was likely in a very cold place right now, being examined for forensic evidence. I shivered at the thought.

“I’m curious,” I finally asked. “What happened to me that day? Why was I killed? Do you know?”

Death stopped his leisurely stroll and looked at me gravely. “No, I do not know cherie. But that is for you to find out if you are so curious.”

“I’m allowed to do that? Look into my own murder?”

“Yes,” said Death smiling. “But with one important caveat.” Death raised a finger at me before taking me aside and pointing to a nearby store. “Let’s go in there and I will show you.”

The store was classic Victorian gingerbread, shotgun-style where the duplex was collapsed and merged into a single home. The storefront was ornate, with intricate white molding on the outside, a peach-colored roof and black slat windows. It had bright lights outside and despite the late hour, looked like it was still open.

Death walked into the quaint store and I followed, curious now to see what it was he wanted to show me.

The store carried women’s clothing. A rather eccentric little shop. It stocked mostly dresses, coats, and ladies hats. The light inside was dim, but inviting. There were no shoppers present. The lone clerk at the far end smiled and waved at us. She looked young, preppy with trendy black glasses; dressed like an artist. She wasn’t the owner, that much I knew. This looked like a part-time gig for her.

I checked the old grandfather clock that sat in the far corner. It bore beautiful carvings. I remember seeing a similar clock at the Hotel Monteleone on Royal Street. The clock’s gold pendulum was swinging vigorously. I noted the time. It was close to midnight. This must be one of those stores that stayed open late just because the owner wanted it to. It didn’t look at all like business was booming.

“If you’re going to have a new life, then we need to start here,” said Death. He brought me to a large mirror along one of the walls. Despite the place’s age, the interior was tastefully done, if a bit old-fashioned. Gold and peach striped wallpaper accentuated the store’s old world feel without appearing gaudy. Beautiful accent lighting was carefully placed all around the store to make it more inviting. I wanted to meet the shop-owner and shake their hand.

Death brought me to one of eight mirrors that lined the walls of the store and invited me to take a look.

I looked.

The face that stared back at me was more than enough to give me pause.

It wasn’t me.

Death chuckled beside me. “I see you’ve noticed, Cherie,” he said, in his most charming voice. That definitely got old.

Death placed his hand upon mine. There was no warmth there.

“I must admit, it’s not a bad trade”, he said.

“It’s not me!” I almost said it in anger. “Who is that?” I asked, as I stared at my reflection who looked properly aghast at the moment.

I was blonde, but the reflection that stared back at me was brunette. I had blue eyes, but the eyes that bored right into mine at the moment were bottle green. A slim face and a long elegant nose completed my face. The build was about the same, and despite my shock and disappointment, I must begrudgingly admit that Death was right. It wasn’t a bad trade.

Death breathed in deep. I didn’t think Death was one for theatrics, but the gentleman that was with me most certainly was.

“Well,” Death began, “the person you see reflected in the mirror is your persona.”

“Come again?”

“You are fond of saying that Cherie,” Death said again.

“I am fond of understanding what the hell it is I have gotten myself into,” I retorted.

“Do I detect just the slightest hint of indignation?” Death asked again.

I sighed. “Forget it”, I said. “Just explain the situation to me.”

“The dead do not suddenly return to life, cherie,” Death now proceeded carefully.  It was almost entertaining, watching him try to be delicate about the situation.

“It is not possible for a soul to return to the mortal coil unchanged,” said Death.

I breathed in deep absorbing Death’s words. “Ok, so what now?”

“Dear Vanessa, surely you understand what is happening here?” Death gently took my hand in his. “You return to the mortal world, but the world cannot know that you have returned,” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper. “Therefore you return as someone else. Only you and I can see each other for how we truly are. The rest of the world, sees what you see in the mirror.”

“But how is Daniel ever going to recognize me?” I asked, exasperated. If it wasn’t one disappointment, it was another.

“He won’t, cherie,” said Death, “and you aren’t allowed to tell him either,” he added.

“Well then why the hell did I come back then?” I asked, my voice cracking, faltering.

“You’ll find a way,” said Death.

“What if I did tell him?” I insisted.

“Do not tempt the Universe, cherie. It is dangerous to do so. Suffice it to say that you’ll lose all privileges, and your colorless soul gets revoked. And,” he added with a smile, “Daniel dies. The Universe has its own ways of keeping things right.”

“Ok, what’s next for me then?” I asked, sighing.

“Well, now you need proper accoutrements shall we say? You’ll need to look the part.”

I went through a row of dresses and flipped through them to clear my mind. Valentino, Oscar de la Renta, Nina Ricci. I smiled. The owner had exceedingly good taste. This was no store for the masses. This was a store for the one percent, the elite.

“And how am I going to pay for this now that I have nothing on my person?” I asked again.

“You shall have all the means you need at your disposal,” Death said, his hands softly stroking a soft chocolate-brown mink coat. “Part of the illusion we must maintain, after all,” he said mysteriously.

“Come again?”

“Ah it is definitely a favorite phrase of yours, cherie.” Death pulled the mink coat from the rack and handed it to me. “You and and I have the means to pursue whatever it is we wish to pursue in this life. Consider it,” Death cleared his throat, “a perk of the job.”

“Fur’s not my thing,” I said, shaking my head. “Especially not during the summer, but thank you.”

Death smiled and bowed slightly. “The way you were shaking earlier, one would have thought it was winter.”

“Well excuse me for not having nerves of steel when I just died and went right into going head-to-head with a Class-D Vampire, whatever the hell that means.”

Death smiled. “I am insensitive, Vanessa. Please forgive me.”

I shook my head and smiled. The man can be charming when he wants to be.

“Whose store is this anyway? The owner has impeccable taste.”

Death smiled and bowed to me. “Thank you, cherie. The store is mine.”

----

And an announcement: I am going to try serializing in quicker spurts. What does everyone think of that? Shorter updates every other day or full chapter updates every week?

Don't forget to comment and vote! Good or bad! I have a lot of fun with the bad too! :D