The autumn night was cool and lit up by a full moon and twinkling stars. Brigadier General Travis Banks dismounted his horse and casually handed the reins to a slave, barely giving the boy a glance. His uncle’s plantation was lit up and some people were milling around outside. They gazed in awe at him and his shiny Confederate uniform as he sauntered inside.

It was his cousin Caroline’s debutante ball and it seemed like all of Louisiana was there. His aunt somehow saw him through the large crowd and hurried over to him, chiding him for being late and smoothing out his immaculate uniform. She took him by the arm and brought him to practically every little social circle, introducing him as an officer in the Confederate Army. Men shook his hand firmly and women, with tears in their eyes, thanked him for risking his life to defend the South.

Caroline soon hurried over, practically throwing herself at Travis in order to hug him. She pulled her towards some of her friends, old and new, chattering excitedly about how her cousin was fighting bravely against those Yankee scum and how thankful she was that he made time out of his busy schedule to come here.

That’s when he saw her, standing off to the side. Travis started walking towards her as if he was in a dream, ignoring his cousin’s protests. Her skin was brown, like a chestnut, and her face was round and dimpled. Her nose was small, and her red lips were neither large nor small but somewhere in between. Her hair was glossy black and wavy, almost reaching towards her waist. Part of it was in a little braid, held in place by a black rose barrette. The other women wore blue or white dresses; hers was red with black hems. A simple black choker adorned her swan-like neck; she wore no other jewelry.

He almost stopped in his tracks when he saw her almond shaped eyes; at first glance they seemed red, but then she looked at him and he saw that they were simply amber colored. Finally, he reached her, bowing graciously. She smiled, showing her pearly white teeth, and held out her hand so he could kiss it.

“I’ve never seen you before,” Travis said, straightening himself, still holding her surprisingly cold hand.

“I don’t think you’ve seen many people here before.” Her voice was accented, but he couldn’t identify where it was from.

He offered her his arm. “May I have this dance?”

She smiled again and took his arm. “You shall.”

• •

They danced for what seemed like forever. When they had had their fill, Travis led her to a bench in the garden, where they sat and enjoyed the night’s cool air.

“I don’t think I got your name,” he said, excited to finally be alone with her.

“Call me Orianna,” she said.

“May I ask your full name?”

She smirked. “You may, but you will not get it.”

“Where do you come from?” Her hands were so cold; was she cold in the autumn night? He saw that she did not shiver, not even when a breeze ruffled her long hair.

“Italy. My father wanted me to marry a mean, ugly, old man, so I got on the first ship I could and came here. Mrs. Banks has been so kind to offer me sanctuary. I would love to stay in this lovely country.” She smirked again. “Maybe even marry a handsome American man.”

Travis’s lust finally overcame him, and he started kissing Orianna’s neck. She let him. He was about to pick her up and carry her to a guest room, when she put her hand on his chest. He hoped she could not feel the rapid beating of his heart.

“Come. Let us walk more. I like the gardens.” She stood up, and he followed.

They walked through the garden, making idle conversation. He loved the sound of her voice, her gorgeous smile, her infectious laugh. They were in front of a path in the woods, laughing at a silly joke he had said, when she stopped in her tracks. Her beautiful eyes went wide.

“That is my father,” she whispered, pointing shakily at a crowd of people. “He must’ve found me!”

“Where?” Travis asked. He put his hand on his pistol as he squinted his eyes; he was too far away to see the faces in the crowd.

Orianna didn’t say anything; she simply took his hand and raced down the forest path. They ran for what seemed like hours, before she abruptly stopped. Travis bent over, wheezing, but she stood as still as a statue. She didn’t even look like she was breathing. When he caught his breath, she simply took his hand and started to leisurely walk down the path.

There were no noises in the forest, not even the sound of crickets, save for the beating of Travis’s heart. He had never been down this path and did not know where it led. His mind screamed at him to turn around and run back, but he didn’t.

“I do like you somewhat, Travis Banks,” Orianna said. He jumped, startled.

“I, um… I like you too, Orianna,” he stuttered. He couldn’t remember if he had actually told her his name or not.

“It is too bad you are a Confederate,” she continued. She looked back at him; her eyes looked like the color of blood. “Why do you fight to keep slaves?” If he could’ve answered, she didn’t give him the time. She simply sighed and they continued on their way.

The path led to an old graveyard. Most of the headstones were cracked, and some were lying on the ground. The names on the graves were unreadable, not that he had any interest in them. His focus was on the woman in front of him, guiding him to God knows where.

“I lied,” Orianna said, making Travis jump again. He felt he needed to run from her, but he couldn’t.

“I did not see my father,” she continued. “My father was a good man, but he has been dead for many, many years.”

“You… didn’t need to lie to me.”

She looked at him then, her eyes still looking red. “Would you have followed me this far if I did not?”

He didn’t answer. He remembered being a young boy at his grandmother’s funeral, where his weeping mother had told him to kiss grandmamma one more time. She had been as cold as Orianna’s hand was now. He had feared his grandmother’s corpse; should he fear this woman as well?

“I am not from Italy,” Orianna continued. “I am from the Maya Empire.”

“Your… your ancestors were Maya?” He never paid attention to his history classes, but there were no more Maya… right?

“Yes, them too. My parents, my grandparents, their grandparents… Orianna is not my real name as well, but you cannot pronounce it.” She sighed. “I lived a very comfortable life before the Spaniards came and ruined everything. And now, unfortunately, I am this.” Her red-colored nails felt like talons digging into his hand.

In his mind’s eye, he saw her: Orianna, clad in gold, blood trailing from her mouth. A bloody Spaniard at her bare feet. A primal scream erupting from her bloody lips.

Despite the cool breeze, Travis was sweating. His mind screamed at him to run, but he did not. No. He could not. Has she possessed me?

They arrived at a crypt. Images flowed through his head: his family and friends; his brothers-in-arms; the Yankees he had killed; a black boy, hands in the air, tears streaming down his face; the same boy, crumpled on the ground, red tears flowing from the hole in his forehead, like a river of blood. Is she making me see these things?

Orianna pressed on the stone door, and it effortlessly opened with a moan. Travis tried to say the Lord’s Prayer, but his mouth wouldn’t move and he forgot the words. He couldn’t say any prayer.

There were three other people (or were they demons?) in the crypt. A Chinese man paced the dusty floor, his feet not making any noise when they touched the ground. A veiled Indian woman sat cross-legged on a coffin, as still as the dead. And, sitting on a coffin as if it was a throne, an old black man stared Travis directly in the eyes. All three were very different, but they had two things in common: blood-red eyes, and pearly white fangs.

Travis turned towards Orianna and stared directly into her blood-red eyes. She smiled sweetly at him, revealing her pearly white fangs, before turning towards the others. “Shall we begin the feast?”