Jan. 3rd, 2017

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It had started after the incident. Kendra had awoken in the hospital with only the haziest of recollections of how she had gotten there, a lot of noise in her head, and a vicious urge to go to New Orleans. It had taken her six months after being released to actually book the trip, a little vacation of sorts with a stay in a quaint boutique hotel in the French Quarter and a plan to check out some historical sights. Certainly that would be enough to satisfy the craving, that and several trips to Cafe du Monde.

But then there was the graveyard tour. And getting separated from the group in the dark of night. And the random mugger who seemed to come out of nowhere. Who wasn't a mugger (muggers don't fight like that.) And then the wings. And the near-bloodlust. By the time the dawn was rising Kendra found herself sitting in the sculpture yard of a closed museum in nearby St. Roch, knuckles stained with blood and two enormous wings sprouted from her back.

She eventually made her way back to the hotel, but she didn't go home. Instead, she rented an apartment in the Quarter, effectively disappearing from her life except for at night.

Most people don't blink at the wings in the French Quarter after dark.


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Watchtower Rebirth

September 2017


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