Gandrell de Lioncourt

Gandrell was there on May 15, 1905, when one-hundred and ten acres of land situated between Stewart Avenue on the north, Garces Avenue to the south, Main Street to the west, and Fifth Street (Las Vegas Boulevard) to the east, were being auctioned off by the railroad company as a settlement as a stop on the new railroad line that linked Los Angela and Salt Lake City, which became Las Vegas, Nevada. He was a silent partner at the very first casino that opened on, what would become, the strip in 1906 called The Golden Gate Hotel & Casino. The city started slowly, as most of these towns do. It took a while for people to show an interest. And then the 1930s happened and the Golden Age of Las Vegas began. More and more hotels and casinos were being built, and the city began to establish itself as a destination for entertainment and gambling and Gandrell was at the center of it all. He was one of the very first to shake Frank Sinatra’s hand, which became a big deal in Vegas once the legend passed on.

Now Gandrell bounced around between New Orleans, New York and Las Vegas for his fun and financial success. Gandrell returned to Las Vegas to find his businesses flourishing beautifully. But when he learned that werewolves had started infiltrating the casinos Gandrell became uneasy. He first learned of the Valley of Fire Pack and quickly became friends with the Alpha, Dean Patrick. They got along like brothers almost immediately and Gandrell spent the next year cultivating the business and ensuring they were successful. The other pack he learned about was the Golden Crest Pack. Again, a tightness formed in his stomach as he dove into the research. There were obvious signs of twisted dealings, glad-handing, and threats.

The infuriated vampire called a meeting with the Alpha of the Golden Crest Pack, a guy named Sampson, who invited Gandrell to their pack house to talk business. Even though Gandrell conducted himself on the phone with the upmost friendly attitude and made himself seem like he had some killer business ventures for them to consider. Even with his flawless performance when he arrived at the packhouse the energy was anything but friendly. It seemed like this pack liked to use intimidation tactics rather than negotiating. Gandrell was shown into a long dining room table. The Alpha at the head and four others. Of course, Gandrell was already familiar with the other four. Hostility filled the air as Gandrell took the seat he was indicated to. It seemed Sampson thought he would be delegating this meeting. Gandrell sat calmly and listened to the man tell Gandrell that Las Vegas was no longer ’his town’ and that the wolves were taking over. How there was no room for a vamp any longer. Gandrell’s expression never changed during the entire speech, well…almost. When he was addressed by the Beta, Ric, with the threat of someone ‘accidentally’ pulling the shades in his room to fill the room with sunlight, that was when Gandrell broke.

He laughed. Laughed so hard he had to place on hand on his belly, lean forward, and smacked his hand on the table. Maybe it was the seriousness of the Beta or that they thought the sun would actually hurt him, not sure…but he laughed. Laughed to the point that all five were brisling with fury. The first to approach Gandrell as he cackled, seemingly to not be paying attention, lost his heart in less time than it would take a hummingbird to flutter its wings. The heart was tossed into the middle of the table as the man next to the vampire fell to his knees and then to the ground dead. “Ooopsy!” As the other two wolves started to converge on him, he put his hands up, one hand so coated in blood you couldn’t see the skin, “Reflexes, my friends. Just reflexes.” But those ‘reflexes’ were used again as the first male who lunged ended up with their face indented that every bone was broken, and the nose had been shoved into the brain, killing him instantly. The third, wasn’t so lucky. Gandrell, moving almost too fast to be seem, severed both femoral arteries on the inside of the thighs and both brachial arteries on the inside of the biceps. This man would be able to count to about thirty before he had lost more blood than his body could survive with. Now just left Father and son. Jumping up onto the table and running faster than a bullet, Gandrell stopped in front of Sampson and looked the man in the eyes before Gandrell gouged them both out of his head. He then smashed the Alpha’s head into the table until it was nothing but a bloody mess and fleshy chunks. Gandrell’s piercing blue eyes turned lastly on the son, Ric. Cooly Gandrell stood and hopped off the table to stand before the cruel child. He reached out and stroked Ric’s cheek with his bloodied hands. Ric shook, obviously in shock at what had just happened in the last few minutes. “No way to run, my sadistic friend. “ The look on Ric’s face was priceless. With a smirk, Gandrell said boastfully, “I know all about you, Ric. I know how your favorite game is torture and fear. Yet, you seem to only pick on those you feel superior to. Do you still feel superior over me?” Gandrell gripped Ric’s hair in one of his fists and pushed him down to the floor on his knees. In a snap, the vampire was behind the Beta and, twisting the hair tight in his fist, his other pale hand positioning itself under his chin, he yanked up in one smooth motion that separated the head from the next and brought the spine along with it. Gandrell whooped in excitement never having dreamed that would actually work!

He calculated Ric had about five minutes before the brain would be too deprived of oxygen and blood to function. Which meant, Gandrell had five minutes of Ric watching him destroy everything he could. Pack member after member fell before the vampire as throats were slit with his razor-sharp fingernails, hearts were ripped out and left on the ground, head were ripped off, anything quick and dirty. With one minute to spare Gandrell found the stairs that led down and into the darkness where Ric kept his toys. The wolf that had been trying to escape the room after, it seemed, he violated a young girl, had his dick ripped off and shoved in his own mouth. Gandrell’s blue eyes settled on the damaged girl, allowing her to see her tormentor’s head separate from his body. The head and spine were dropped on the floor as Gandrell playfully decided to dance a Mexican style dance with lots of flourishes of the arms and stomping of the feet. Each stomp turned what was left a Ric into a pile of goo.

When Gandrell finished his mocking dance, he turned to the girl who had passed out. He sighed, guessing the dance was not needed after all. He pulled the door free of the hinges and tossed the heavy door at the man who had chocked to death on his own dick as he bled out. Gandrell knelt over the girl and placed a bloody hand on her head. He then took one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. He pricked her finger and licked the one drop of blood away. He took her hand in his as he whispered, “Another diamond.” He moved her so he could do a quick evaluation of her. She was weak, dying, but not lost. He used his thumb nail and made a deep laceration in his forearm allowing his blood to flow into his palm where he made a cup to catch the lifegiving liquid. He lifted the girl with his free arm and fed her the blood slowly. It wouldn’t be enough to affect in any long-term way. But it would heal her faster than her wolf could. He listened once the ounce of blood was in her system. When her heartbeat got stronger, he knew he had her. He lifted her in his arms and darted out of the pack house and into the desert. He then took to the air and arrived with her in a hotel room just minutes later.