10

The party is like nothing you have ever experienced before. The social world of the region arrives in as stately of a fashion as the city's limited resources can muster. A fortune must have been spent on the candles alone.

The attendees of the party are a riot of nations. It was a ragtag coalition—a near equal mix of American infantry, local French and German farmers, free blacks, Native Americans, and several contingents of Jean Lafitte's pirates from Barataria—that bested the English at the battle; for tonight at least, their leaders celebrate as one.

The nearly fifty-year-old Jackson negotiates clumps of well-wishers despite his obvious pain. He carries a kerchief with him at all times to collect the blood he coughs up from a musket-ball still lodged in his lung from a campaign years ago. To make matters more gruesome, one side of his face is still swollen from a wound sustained in the battle; rumor has it that a young officer sacrificed himself by throwing himself in the path of a cannonball, but the General was still hurt in the process. At his side is his wife Rachel Donelson Jackson. She is short and plump, and his attentions attest to his ongoing devotion to her.

In addition to the General, Villanueva points out several other luminaries of the battle: the host, Bernard de Marigny; Jean Lafitte; and the District Marshal of Louisiana, Peter Duplessis. Even Bishop Dubourg and his entourage have deigned to consort with the victors for the evening. One of that entourage—an assistant priest, maybe?—has taken an interest in you. Villanueva is soon drawn into conversation with his old friend Lafitte.

While surveying this scene, the thought occurs to you that it would be entirely possible for you to feed on the hero of the battle.

Yes, I try to maneuver my way into a private meeting with Jackson so I can feed on him!

No, I'd rather arrange an introduction with the host of the soirée.

I approach the young priest.

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