I thought the Trial of Wealth would be some difficult trial about finding self-worth or sacrificing possessions for the greater good. Instead, we’re just tasked with stealing something of value and bringing it back. James gave us a few tips on theft and Michael supplied us with two matching Black SUVs. I can’t tell the make and model because any recognizable features and emblems have been removed. Nobody else questioned the morality of the situation. They’re eager to do whatever they have to in order to be turned; they’re completely ignoring that we’re being sent off to commit a felony. We couldn’t agree on what target to hit so we split into two teams. Girls and boys, classic.

I settled on a target about thirty minutes north of Dulac so we had more time to plan after the women left. I’ve got a big plan so I requested that Michael hitch a trailer to the back. James laughed at my confidence. As a no good thief, he can tell I’m not an experienced thief. But, he doesn’t know I spent time learning to crack alarm codes and hanging with a modern-day thieves’ guild. I have to admit it’s kind of stupid for me to be participating in this or planning to ‘win’ a contest that isn’t real.

“Be careful, driving with a trailer can make it easy to fishtail,” Michael warns us.

“Hey, how do we get back in here,” I ask.

“Drive,” Michael looks at me as if I’m stupid.

“We’re not inside a masquerade, pocket world or whatever?”

“Why would we do that?”

“You’re a family of vampires on plantation. You don’t want to hide that? What if someone sees?”

“We’re in a fucking swamp you couillon,” James interjects. “Nobody would drive out here if they weren’t looking for something.”

Michael and Isaac laugh at James taunting. I just signal for Isaac to start the truck as I wonder what a couillon is because I seem to be out of the loop.

“A couillon is an idiot, pretty common term in Louisiana,” Isaac fills me in as we head up the driveway.

“How long have you been down here? You don’t have the same accent as the others.”

“I’m from Port Arthur, Texas but moved to Houston when I was thirteen.”

“So you’re draped up and dripped out,” D’Andre loves that song.

Isaac laughs for a moment then gets more serious than I’ve ever seen him before, “please, never say that again.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Made my asshole shrivel up.”

“Y’all are really vulgar down here.”

“Well Sampson is a former drug dealer, Michael is a mechanic, James is thief and those aren’t usually careers that require proper English.”

“That just leaves you, are you a mechanic too?”

“No, I’m just a chronically horny gay man that hasn’t fucked anyone but Sir Five Fingers for the last three months.”

“Wow, that was a lot. You could make a hooker blush.”

“I hope it’s a male hooker. You think we got time to make a stop? Unless you’re down.”

“No. No. Please just turn on the radio.”

“I’m joking, unless you’re going to do it.”

“I’m not.”

“Alright, offer is always on the table,” I honestly can’t tell if he’s joking or serious. “My turn to ask questions.”


“Who is Destiny?”

“What,” I hadn’t mentioned her to anyone but Granny, Old Ben and Sampson. How does he know her?

“Who is Destiny?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you keep mumbling that you’re sorry when you sleep. Not that you sleep a lot, but when you do you talk to Destiny.”

“Destiny is my wife, was my wife. She died on the way here. She’s the one who turned me, Granny turned her. She wanted to bring me here to avoid the people that killed her.”

It’s a short ride, to the destination. Somehow, I felt comfortable telling Isaac about everything that happened. How I met her, how I loved her, and how I lost her. I hadn’t said anything to anyone, not even my own family. I haven’t even talked to my family, but I spilled my guts to him without thinking twice. He didn’t interrupt me for anything but more detail, and I gave it to him without thinking twice. I don’t know if it’s his personality, or I’ve just been so desperate for someone to ask me what’s wrong. I didn’t even stop there, I started talking about how I didn’t really trust anyone here and the more of her diary I read the more it’s clear she didn’t leave on her own, and that she didn’t trust them. Isaac and reluctantly Sampson are the only people I trust around here. He doesn’t respond immediately when I stop talking.

“Damn, you had a lot to say,” is his only response.


“Well, we’re here,” any joy or flamboyancy had been removed from his voice. The once bubbly personality had been popped.

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