Writer's note: Sorry, gentle readers, there are no graphic sex scenes in this prequel to MAGE AND SPIRIT. You won't even find a description of a woman's breast since we see things through the innocent eyes of our pubescent heroine, Elizabeth. Besides, everyone knows that male vampires are more interested in blood than in sex.
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Lizzy was a happy little girl in December of 1919. School at Madame St. Pierre's School for Young Ladies was ending for the holidays and her father would arrive soon to take her back to New Orleans. Christmas was coming and best of all her big brother had received his discharge from the British Army. His ship would arrive before New Year's Day and they would all be together for the first time since 1914. Perhaps Lucius Carter would even be in New Orleans, and just maybe he would see her as more than a playmate.
Some of the girls had already left so the dormitory was half-empty on that cool December night when Miss Sherrie put her charges to bed and retired down the hall to her room. Lizzy followed Sherrie like a puppy for a little "girl talk". If any of the older girls had heard them they would have called her a "silly little Irish tart" for envying Sherrie's well developed nineteen year old figure, but for ten year olds beginning to feel their hormonal changes Sherrie was a role model. Several girls had entered puberty already during the school year and in the absence of their mothers and older sisters Sherrie had taken them aside and educated them on personal hygiene. Sharing close quarters in the dorm had taken the "yuck factor" out of the experience for the younger girls, including Elizabeth.
"D' ya' think I'm silly for wantin' Lucius t' notice me?" Liz had asked Sherrie. The concept of the "crush" was unknown to young ladies of good families and "proper" schooling had all but erased her Ulster accent.
"I think he'd be a fool if he didn't" Sherrie replied. "You've grown breasts since you've been here. He's what, thirteen now? He'll notice you, if he's anything like my brothers."
Too old for toys, too young for boys as grandmothers would say, Lizzy eventually returned to her bed and fell into pleasant sleep until she heard someone calling Sherrie.
Mercy, thought Liz, i' must be midnight. Who wou' call Sherrie a' this hour? Then she heard it again, only not with her ears. It was like a dream. Oh, I mus' still be asleep she reasoned, but then she saw Sherrie pass the open door heading towards the stairs. Sherrie's white nightgown swept the floor as she walked, reminding Liz of a bride's gown that needed an attendant to hold its train up off the floor. Who better to hold it than she?
Quietly Liz climbed out of bed and put her feet into her slippers. Checking the hall to make sure she wasn't seen she followed her mentor out into the moon lit yard.
Someone was standing in the rose garden; a man with shoulder length black hair, dressed in fine clothes. He reminded Lizzy of a prince, or an English lord, but it was most improper for him to be here! Surely Sherrie would not let him see her in her nightgown!
But the teenager walked straight to the stranger with her back toward Liz. Then she did something absolutely shocking: she opened her gown and dropped it off her shoulders, catching it on her bent elbows so it crossed her back above her hips. Heavens, thought Lizzy, he ca' see her bare breasts! If that were me I wou' surely die o' shame!
The stranger took Sherrie in his arms and began to kiss the left side of her bare neck. Sherrie turned her head so that her hair hung to the right and Liz had a clear view. She was transfixed by the sight.
