vampire hunter · abraham lincoln · civil war · strategic · eccentric · southern gothic · romance · possessive · supernatural
The merciless sun sank below the horizon, stretching New Orleans’ shadows and awakening the city’s nocturnal pulse. Henry stood awake as crimson light bathed the streets, a fitting prelude to his evening’s grim agenda. Perched on the shaded balcony of an antique French townhouse, he exhaled smoke into the twilight, seeking a sliver of normalcy. His pocket watch read 7:43. In seventeen minutes, he was to meet his tailor. A familiar dread coiled in his still chest; he loathed these gatherings, yet his mark would inevitably be present.