Archive of Our Own

The beast is curled on the floor underneath the giant hole his body made when he was smashed against the wall.
He does not move, prostrated as he is where he fell, like a puppet with its strings cut. His head hangs low, his dusty curls hiding most of his face. But still, Daniel can feel the bonfire eyes locked on him, unmoving too, and burning the skin of his neck.
He knows, with a glacial certainty that crawls down to his very bones, that he’s going to die tonight.

Louis had taken a giant black suitcase, and with vampire efficiency, had packed and been out of his cage before the plaster had even finished raining down onto the shiny concrete floor of it.
Daniel hadn’t dared move since then, the echo of the closing door still going off like a gong in his mind. Like a gunshot to his spine, a guillotine blade falling on his neck.

He is alone with the beast now, and he is going to get killed by it.

He remembers the first time he had felt so scared his whole body had locked up in fear like it was now. No memories of charley horse, or blood loss, and quiet desperation yet, but the debilitating fear of a prey animal caught in fanged jowls.
He had been locked in a room with a lieutenant turned capo in El Paso, where he was writing about a psychotic guru drug lord snorting and killing his way across the Mexican border. He recalls it clearly, even now. The stink of the cadaver of one of the falcons slumped at his feet, the brain of the man blown out, and the little specks of brownish red staining his run-through caterpillar boots. He could still clearly see the face of the man that had just killed him, his eyes bored, dark and beady like a shark, and the blood splattered all over his cheeks.
The knot of stress and tension in Daniel’s spine had only loosened once he had been tucked back in the relative safety of his little New York apartment, locked behind three different bolts. His jaw and gums had been tender for weeks after, with how tight he had been clenching his teeth.
Ever since then, he had been in rooms with more monsters. Dictators, killers, rapists, thieves, fucking vampires. The beast and Louis had been the scariest by far, but the cocky little shitstain of a drug lord had still left him deeply rattled down to his bones nonetheless.
Maybe it was because he had been human. You expect a vampire to take a bite out of your neck and play yo-yo with your body for a bit, but you never expect a twenty-something kid from Tegucigalpa to shoot one of his best buddies in front of you and act like it’s routine. Funny how that is.

There is the same tension in his spine he had felt back then now, a highway of pain down the column of it. He’s petrified that if he dares move, he is going to be jumped on and mauled to death like a stupid hiker stumbling upon a mountain lion, gone in a blink with his skull fractured on the floor too.

His legs and the small of his back are cramped with terror as well, nerves, and the pain of standing still for too long when you’re too old for it to be comfortable anymore.

The beast, Armand, is still lying inert and silent, like a porcelain doll smashed down by an angry child, and Daniel is slowly coming to the conclusion that he really, really doesn’t want to die.

Outside, the sun is setting over Dubai.

What a fucking ugly city this is. The toilet where everything wrong with the world gets flushed, but he still wishes he could watch his last twilight over the bay.
He had thought that maybe it would have been Covid that would do him in, and if not that Parkinson in a couple of short years. But no, he was going to be eaten alive by a psychotic vampire with the angelic beauty of a Bourgereau muse, and a voice just as soft.
Typical, really.

He needs to go get his own suitcase, and flee this toxic theatre scene he helped burn to the ground. But Armand is still not moving, so Daniel doesn’t dare to either.
He feels the heat of the setting sun against the nape of his neck. “Turn back and look”, he tells himself. “This is your last chance.”

_“Daniel.”

The voice makes him jump as it rises from behind the curtain of dirty curls, and Daniel feels the hair on his arms rise with a shiver.

Ha, no «Mister Malloy» for the man that destroyed your marriage?

This is it, then. The angry threat from Louis meant nothing, of course, and Daniel was going to get killed right here, right now.
Well, at least he had seen his daughters one last time before leaving New York. He had said his goodbyes, no matter how empty and unwelcome they were. He knew they would not cry for him.
He didn’t think anyone would.

Armand rises, slowly, as if his back is bothering him. Maybe it does, maybe Louis snapped his spine in half as he should have done years ago.
He slowly turns his head, and Daniel can finally see his brilliant orange eyes burning bright against the soft lacquered wood of his sculpted face. The cuts and plaster add to his beauty, strangely enough. But, he is good at looking tragic after all, isn’t he? Ganymede crying in the eagle’s clutches, Saint Sebastian tied to the tree, the raped angel of Sodom.

Maybe those eyes are the only dusk Daniel will get to see before dying, and maybe he had it coming. Maybe he should have stayed home, and passed away with little dignity and his mind gone in a bed stinking of piss in a few years.
Maybe it was a miracle he had survived this long already.

Armand walks toward him. Prowls really, all soft steps and gentle sinuous movements. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that Louis and him are really warhead missiles hidden behind the guise of beautiful young men.
He’s standing to his full height, finally, and he’s as tall as Daniel had been when he was younger like this, before age had dragged him down into a slouch. He’s not pretending to be small and fragile and breakable anymore.

Despite the nauseous fear naturally held for the person you know is gonna take you away from the kingdom of the living, Daniel can’t help but feel a little bit of pity for him as well.
It had felt good to twice over tear the cloth from Louis’s eyes, he’s not going to lie. He likes the guy, and he would have loved to call him a friend if time and fate had allowed. He had been a little bit cocky and vindictive with it, yes, but it’s just who he is. He loves to bring assholes down a peg.
Still, Armand seems to make a habit of building his life atop wobbly little houses of cards and act hurt and betrayed when they collapse from under him.
Funny how he had acted when it had just been the two of them, all soft and blinking slowly like a rehabilitated feral cat. Lestat loved me, Lestat came back for me into the earth, Lestat kissed me gently and laid me down on the floor of the theatre box. See how even he can’t resist me. See how desired I am, when at the same time Louis had spoken so openly about the ghost of the same Lestat, his presence dwarfing the desperate attempts Armand was making at being finally important to someone. It truly was tragic enough to make you cry.
But well. He still was a manipulative, lying little fucker that finally got what he deserved. Daniel just doesn’t want to be killed because he has disrupted his little doll house playtime.

_”Armand”, he admonished desperately, frustrated by the way his voice shakes. Hands are one thing, but his voice is most of his work, he ought to have better control over it. “Louis told you not to kill me.”

Try to remind him about duty, of the last order of his Maître.
But Armand only sneers as he approaches, so close now that Daniel can see his irises vibrate, dancing like two twin flames in his eyes.

_”If Louis wants to kill me for seeking reparations, he’s welcome to try. But, there are some actions that deserve consequences, don’t you think Daniel?” He’s standing in front of him now, and Daniel can almost feel the cold coming off of him. His voice is soft, gently lulling, and Daniel knows that he’s about to try the bullshit “do go gentle into that good night and shut the fuck up please” routine again, but he’s not having it this time.

_”You’re talking about consequences? You?” He scoffs and angrily jabs his index finger in the center of Armand’s sternum, and it feels like his entire arm is seizing with an electrical shock at the contact. The skin is hard and cool under his hand, and Daniel realises with a start that it’s the first time since San Francisco that they are touching each other. It makes him more real, this greenland shark wearing the face of the most beautiful man Daniel has ever seen. He suddenly wants to splay his hand over where he can feel the sluggishly slow inhuman beat of his heart, and doesn't know why. It makes him bristle, so he spats:
“You’ve helped kill his kid and lied to him for seventy-seven years, and he put your back through a wall. You dare speak of consequences? He should have fucking killed you!”

Armand had frozen at the contact, his irises still again too. He opens his little mouth just a bit, the bunny teeth showing, and curls his lips as if to stop his fangs from descending.

Yes, that’s it you passive bitch. I’m disrespecting you, do something!

Armand’s eyes meet his, and he’s wearing the same manic face he did when he had locked Daniel up in that shitty apartment on Divisadero Street and tortured him for five days.
You’re going to teach me how to be fascinating.

There is no need for the dramatics, really. You already are fascinating. You’ve always been.

It’s almost a relief when Armand attacks.
He moves so quickly that Daniel doesn’t have the time to be surprised, nor to be scared at all. He sighs when the sharp short fangs sink into his neck. He had been so scared before, so numb with stress, that it’s a comfort to not be waiting for death anymore.
He doesn’t scream, even if the pain is the worst he has ever felt in his life, blinding and high pitched like a siren in his ears. He still struggles a bit, because it’s his nature to fight till the end. Though he knows there is no hope for escape or survival this time.

He feels the blood being drawn from him like an open font in aliens, almost sensuous pulses. He hears the gulps Armand’s throat makes as he swallows right next to his ear, and he must already be lightheaded from blood loss because it feels so good to be embraced by him like this. One of his cold hands is holding him still by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving puppy, and the other is fisted in his hair to hold his head at an angle just right. It feels familiar, somehow, and Armand smells so good. Oud and honey. Ylang ylang and jasmine, maybe. Only sweet things. Fuck him, but he’s glad he’s smelling this right now instead of the stench of his own blood.

Despite the strange comfort, he wants to punch Armand and to tear him away from his neck, but his arms are heavy and his head is swimming, so instead he grabs weakly at his collar with trembling hands. They look almost vulgar in their veiny paleness next to the dewy brown skin.
He wished he could have slapped Louis too a second time for having left him here.
You stopped him from killing me once, you bastard. You could have done it again.

He’s cold. Not in an uncomfortable levodopa transfusion way, more in a falling asleep in the snow way. The pain is not so bad anymore, just a distant song strumming the nerves of his torso down to his shaking legs. He feels Armand getting warmer against him, leeching off his last remaining bits of body heat. His lips feel almost human against his neck, now.

Daniel still doesn’t want to die.

There is the nice smell so close, and the new warmth in those unyielding limbs, and Daniel realizes that he can see the sun through the windows like this at last. It paints the sky a brilliant, burning orange. One of his favorite colors.

He had insisted on naming Kate Clementine instead, at first. But why?
Why?

The sea air is coming through the opened window, and Daniel can hear the faire on the pier very close. Children are laughing. He can hear them squeal above the music of the carnival.

Wait.

_”So, which one should I win for you?”

Wait…

          He turned toward Armand who was examining the prizes displayed above the stand with the same intensity he had when looking at the art displayed in his favorite museums. He was wearing little round sunglasses with pale blue lenses that couldn’t quite hide the fantasmagorical orange of his eyes. And how Daniel loved those eyes. His perfect predator hidden in the ferns, with the dark blue silk scarf at his neck. Daniel’s strange American socialite lost in England. Always so overdressed, even for such an outing. But damn if he didn’t look good right now, with the light of the colored garland that shone on the gold rim of the glasses, and against the diamond and sapphire rings glinting on his elegant fingers.
He gently stroked his bottom lips with the pad of his thumb as he scanned the array of cute plushies presented in a row, and with a solemn nod, he finally pointed toward the biggest of them all.

_”This one, Beloved.”

Daniel laughed, and Armand smiled back a challenge.

It was a big thing, almost three feet tall, and as wide as Daniel was, in the shape of a very distinguished looking teddy bear, with kind beady eyes, dark brown fur and a pretty yellow ribbon tied around its neck.
But well… There was a reason why Daniel never made the varsity baseball team back in Modesto, and no matter all his good intentions, he bungled most of the throws of this innocent milk bottle toss game.
Armand looked at his tries with an indulgent, if not slightly mocking expression throughout, but held his promise to not help him cheat with his powers.

As they walked with their pinkies discreetly hooked together under their long sleeves between the happy families and the other crooning couples out on dates, Daniel still felt proud nonetheless. Because there, tucked under Armand’s elbow was the little lamb plush he had still managed to win for him at the shooting gallery. It was almost unbearingly cute, with its cream fur, and its little pink nose stitched upside down by mistake. It also could play a little lullaby from the hidden music box in a pocket on his back, which Armand had been ecstatic about when he discovered it.

They went up the rides that were supposed to be scary but weren’t at all, and still screamed and raised their arms just for the fun of it. Then, they hid in the dark behind a plastic skeleton to make out during their tour of the haunted house, half hoping to get caught and give a fright to the unsuspecting visitors. And, they later watched as the biggest man they had ever seen spat some fire with great pageantry. Daniel had to grumpily drag them away when he had started making eyes at Armand, and had tried to impress him with more and more dangerous fiery tricks.

As they spent the evening striding up and down the pier, Daniel often caught Armand glancing at his little gift with a soft, grateful smile.

Later, he had played with its fur, all the way through their clandestine viewing of Black Narcissus at the Duke of York’s Picturehouse. It had been so easy for them to break into the deserted cinema, but so incredibly difficult for Daniel to focus on the film afterward. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at Armand throughout all of it, fascinated by how tender he looked with the little plush perched on his lap, his face slack and opened with the same expression of rapture he had every time they watched movies.

When the sky had been pinking above the papercut silhouette of Brighton’s Pier and the grey horizon of the English Channel as they laid in bed together, Armand had been humming the lamb’s music box lullaby.
His fingers were playing with Daniel’s curls, gently guiding him toward sleep. And how sweet, and soft, and precious he looked with the toy tucked under his chin.

It had been in that moment, in the perfect pale pink dusk, that Daniel had first realised how deeply, how terribly he loved the monster singing in his arms.

Yes.

Surely, he would die without him.

_” WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!

Back in the orange light of the Dubai penthouse, Armand wrenches himself away from Daniel. He pushes him with such strength that Daniel ends up terrifyingly airborne for a second, before crashing on his back on top of the hard wood of the fancy coffee table. He rolls and falls into a heap on the rug, and feels like every bone in his body just shattered.
There is a sharp pain in his right shoulder, he’s sluggish as shit, and he can feel the wet of his own blood trickle into the collar of his shirt. Strangely however, he can do nothing but laugh. It’s a wheezy, half-dying version of the sarcastic old man chuckle he knows drives people up the wall with the need to smack his face off of his skull.
Armand’s eyes are blown wide open, so big that Daniel can see the white all around the flaming irises. His chin is wet with Daniel’s blood, shining against his skin like perfect little rubies.

Of course. Of fucking course.

          The waves were singing their slow rhythm into the calm indigo night, and Armand’s hand in his was still warm from his most recent feeding. He looked almost human as he offered him and the stars both one of his big heart-shaped gummy smiles Daniel loved so much.
They walked toward the sea without a word as if not to disturb the gentle night, the sand cold and soft beneath their feet. Daniel was feeling a bit vulnerable in his nakedness, but the amber light pooling onto the blue beach from the terrace of their little house was the only one around for miles. On the horizon, others blinked from the distant shore of Fernando de Noronha, so, so far away. They were alone here, on this small slice of forgotten paradise, and behind them only the birds in the forest called to each other.

When the warm water kissed their ankles, Daniel turned toward Armand. He was blue too, like the whole world around them, wearing so well the cloak of the night, and the tapetum lucidum of his pupils had captured the light of the moon above. He was so beautiful that Daniel could only kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until his head was swimming. He picked him up, and Armand’s naked legs locked around his naked hips, the warmth of his hard sex gliding against the skin of Daniel’s belly.
He walked into the ocean like this, until the waves made Armand buoyant and weightless in his arms, and then kissed him some more.

_”I love you, do you know that?” He asked the night, and the birds, and the foam, but mostly Armand. His Armand.

_”Are you certain?”

In Dubai Armand screams, his shoulders hunched, and tears at his hair with clenched fists.

          Daniel pushed open the door of their little Vancouver apartment, and shivered when the blast of the heater hit his cheeks. He took off his heavy coat, the fancy beanie lined in fur that Armand had insisted he wore out, and toed off his leather boots, before padding to the kitchen where he could hear his lover puttering around.
Armand was bent over something on the counter, his project obscured by the lean line of his back. And in the center of the room was a man tied to their nice table.
When he crossed the door, the man rolled terrified bovine eyes in his direction, and screamed through the vichy-patterned kitchen rag stuffed in his mouth. He had been bound with electrical cables, tape, and bungee cords to the wooden legs, as if Armand hadn’t wanted to use their nice ropes and cuffs on him. He had had the forethought of putting tarp on the floor, and under the struggling body of the man to save the tiling and the lacquered wood however, and a dish had been placed under where the man was slowly losing blood through the hole he had in lieu of a penis. There was another bowl filled with water next to it, a plastic razor, and more than a few scattering of dark pubic hair. And well, Daniel was a journalist. He could paint a very clear picture of what had happened with the clues that were presented to him.

He stepped around the man, and deposited his kraft shopping bag on top of the toaster, to keep Armand’s impromptu workshop clean.

_”What is all this?” He asked, unsure on how to feel.

Armand turned to him. He was wearing nitrile gloves stained red, and held forceps in one hand, operating scissors in the other, and a scalpel was held loosely between his lips. He looked radiant with the expression he had when something particularly interesting had caught his attention. He took the scalpel out of his mouth, and put his tools aside next to the dissection tray where the lost penis was pinned.

_”He was perving on the neighbor. You know, Lisa? The ginger girl with the Bernese Mountain Dog? I caught him when he tried to break into her flat. I found zip ties and the tape I used on him in his bag.”

Daniel hummed, and playfully tugged on the knot at the back of the frilly kitchen apron Armand was wearing to protect his white knit turtleneck underneath.

_”Well. Good riddance then.”

The man on the table screamed through his gag and tugged on his ties so violently that the heavy table scraped against the floor.

_”Indeed,” Armand answered, before accepting Daniel’s quick little kiss. He peeled off his gloves and went to the sink to wash his hands, before lying his elbows on his lover’s shoulders in a loose embrace. “So, I have food for tonight now, what did you get?”

Daniel chuckled, and grabbed Armand's waist under his sweater, happy as he always was to feel how neatly his hands slotted into the dip of it.

_”I went for Pho at the little vietnamese place I liked last time, on the corner of Mainland and Helmcken.” He then nodded toward the little tray on the counter, a bit curious, but mostly grossed out. “What about this?”

Armand beamed, and turned back to his work with a happy skip. He picked a probe and his little forceps, and gently peeled back the skin from the incision he had made along the shaft. The shiny maroon of it looked grotesque against the stainless steel, with the skin of the balls pinned aside to show everything fully.

_”I know what a cock is, of course.” He said, and Daniel nodded, his own cock steering at hearing his oh so elegant boyfriend say such a crass word. “But I don’t know how it works, or how it’s made, really.”

Daniel smiled.

_”Well, we obviously can’t have that, Baby.” He teased. “Maybe we can both eat, and then we’ll go to VPL to see if they have books for you to understand what you have here?”

Armand almost ate him then, and it made Daniel so happy to see him happy. He had never been like this with anyone before, he never had this need to be the root of someone’s happiness.

They ate, then argued when Armand tried to store the flayed manhood into the fridge to keep it fresh. Dispute which Daniel quickly lost, and tried not to be too disgusted that someone’s cut off penis was resting right next to his strawberry yogurts.

They tossed the rapist’s body from the top of Burrard Bridge down onto False Creek, and then stole some poor people’s bikes to reach the central branch of the Vancouver Public Library more quickly. There, Armand was let loose, and roamed the different aisles with the focused look of a beast on the hunt.
It was fascinating to see him open books after books, leafing with inhuman speed through the pages, before putting them back. He ended up with an armful of works he promised the judgmental old building he would bring back, and made Daniel carry more than half of them as they walked, hand in hand in the snowy night.

Back home, Armand had promptly made jam out of his study specimen. He showed Daniel everything, pointing at diagrams and pictures in the borrowed books opened on the freshly cleaned kitchen table.
Corpora cavernosa, corpus spongiosum, and this Daniel is the tunica albuginea. The meatus, the glands, the urethra.
And then later, Armand had shown him everything he had learned, on his knees, with his fangs down. Just like Daniel liked it.

It wasn’t Armand’s last use of those books and tools. His next subject of study had been the spleen of a banker from HSBC who loved to scam old people. Then the gallbladder of a woman that had commented disdainfully on the color of his skin. The heart of a man who was touching his brother’s daughter. And then so many others that Daniel couldn’t keep track of them all.

All those little experiments, from Daniel’s unhinged beast. His dangerous dead thing.
God, he wanted to be with him forever.

Daniel takes it back. Maybe he wants to die after all.

The memories pour into his mind like a cool river stream. It’s like a dam has been opened somewhere in his brain, and he can fucking finally get the ten years or so missing from his life back.
It’s not the painstaking piercing back together of barely comprehensible figments from his San Francisco stay, helped by the audio of the vampires' vicious fight he had to do with Louis. No, it rather feels like cool, tender waves coming to fill back all the holes of him. It’s like he finally got the answer to a riddle he hadn’t ever been able to crack his whole life, and that seemed so logical now that it was told to him.

          Armand was on the bus in Madrid, sitting next to him. So close that Daniel could smell the sweet heady scent of him. The jasmine and honey of his nightmares.
          Armand was at the foot of his hotel bed in Vienna, the papercut silhouette of a night terror angel in the grey dark. Show me the city, Daniel. Why did you choose to come here?
          Armand was following him through London. Daniel was afraid, of course, but so intrigued as well. He went to all the places he loved. Maybe the beast would love them as well.
          Armand was talking to him, and Daniel wanted to do nothing else but to listen.
Armand was stalking him. Armand was kissing him. Armand was dancing in his arms. Armand was yelling, Armand was crying, Armand was moaning under him, Armand was laughing.

Ten fantastic and terrible years of Armand.

And so this is what has been missing from his heart.
Daniel had always wondered.

He had always assumed that something had happened to him during one of his blackouts in the eighties. His life certainly had been wild enough at the time to warrant such a guess. He thought that maybe he had seen something truly, and deeply fucked up that had changed him forever, or maybe someone had done something to him that his mind would rather have forgot.
It was the only logical reason as to why he had awoken one day in a deserted parking lot in bumfuck Milwaukee with a giant hole inside of himself. He couldn’t understand where it came from, nor explain it to anyone. Not his friends, not his wives, not the psychologist he tried to see for a while. He couldn’t put words on the gaping emptiness, the terrible phantom sensation of the limb he couldn’t remember having lost.
Trauma makes you forget sometimes, he had tried to tell himself to not spiral into gut-eating terror and paranoia.
But he knew now that it wasn’t trauma.
It was having his whole heart ripped out of his chest and his mind erased twice over.

          Armand loved boats. He loved the ropes and knots holding the sails, the sleek shape of the round helm, the bobbing nose of the vessel atop the waves. He bought Daniel one for his twenty-sixth birthday. A cream and dark green beauty with wooden accents, and big white sails that so prettily caught the wind. He called him «The Hylas», and Daniel didn't know what to do with himself when Armand had offered it to him in the small beautiful French port of Cassis.
They sailed the Adriatic with it. For weeks, it was just the two of them under and above the endless blue sky and the endless blue sea. They stopped in the most beautiful seaside towns Daniel had ever seen. Manarola, Portofino, Capri, San Vito Io Capo. Each night there they partied with the locals until the sun came up.
Armand had a game when they danced together, where he would use the Cloud Gift to become weightless in Daniel’s arms, and see if anyone around dared to mention it. His feet would leave the floor with every twirl, every porté. Light and graceful movements that could simply be tricks of the eyes. Daniel loved it. It was only a pantomime of his real strength, of course, but he loved the idea of people thinking that he could really toss Armand that high. And above all, he loved seeing Armand preening, and so happy in his arms.
He looked so softly human, so tenderly beautiful when he smiled.

Daniel blinks toward the grey ceiling. His whole body is hurting, but the worst pain is pulsing just above his heart. He suddenly wants to cry like a little kid.

          The fall wind of late September was biting Daniel’s cheeks as he ran between the dedalus of tombs and mausoleums. The Père Lachaise cemetery was so big, and not all of it was lit by the ancient street lamps leaning brokenly on the irregular paving stones. He tried to be as discreet as he could when he slinked between the ivy-covered headstones, careful to not trip over the protubing roots weaving between the dead. The night was silent there, without even the distant noise of the cars outside of the Paris necropolis to break the peace.

His hunter would find him easily if he was too noisy. He had to be careful.

He stumbled blindly, with only the distant yellow artificial lights to guide himself. The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds, all pregnant with rain, and his feeble human eyes badly struggled to pierce the darkness all around.
He had just nearly tripped over a piece of fallen sepulcher, when he suddenly felt soft fingers and the barest hint of nails caress the nape of his neck.

Daniel didn’t scream, and instead bolted away from his pursuer as quickly as he could.
The sound of his feet drumming against the pavement in his fleeing was exhilarating, and he felt like he was flying in his escape.
The doors of the little chapel banged when he pushed them open. He couldn’t contain the bright peel of laughter that echoed against the somber walls and the massive Pietà that stood guard over the nave when he felt the sinister presence at his back.

Armand pushed him, and Daniel crashed down between the pews. The vampire was above him before he could even think to catch his breath, and tender little fangs pierced the side of his neck. Daniel moaned loudly, and bucked into the warm body pinning him down, his arms circling his attacker’s neck, his hands in his soft dark hair.

Armand didn’t take more than a few drops, as he did several times already since their little game started. Enough to make Daniel feel earth-shattering ecstasy, and definitively not enough shame for having been caught again.
When Armand rose, his lips were tainted red with Daniel’s blood like a cabaret dancer all painted for a show. He smiled, his little fangs down.

_”I’ll give you a ten second headstart again.” He chided, and pinched Daniel’s belly harshly. A mean bite of fingers that hurted more than his teeth. “Try not to be so predictable this time around, Lover.”

Daniel pushed him away with another laugh. The small drink had left him giddy and playful.

_”Hey, I did my best, asshole!”

_”No you didn’t. You wanted to get caught and you know it. Now run.”

So Daniel ran.

God, he loved Paris.

The next night, Armand had taken him to the Palace of Fontainebleau.

Such a graceful building this was, with its pretty blue roofs, and its grand horse-shoe staircase. Together, they walked the English gardens, the richly decorated rooms, and the golden galleries hand in hand.
It was in one of those galleries that Armand stopped in front of the painting of three little cherubs, and a young blond woman holding flowers in her tender white arms.

_”This is Flore,” he whispered with the quiet reverence he usually reserved for places of worship. “She was painted by Ambroise Dubois in my maker’s studio the year of my death. The model was my very dear friend, Bianca Solderini.”

The country night was utterly silent outside, as if the ostentatious corridor had swallowed them both.

_”She’s beautiful.” Daniel said. He squeezed the hand in his.

_”I miss her terribly. Her, and Riccardo. And my mak… Marius.” He blinked as if to chase tears from his eyes. “I miss them all.”
Daniel’s heart twisted in his chest. Armand let himself to rarely be vulnerable like this. He took him in his arms, and Armand shuddered against his neck.

“I love you, Beloved. I’m so glad that you’re here, with me.”

_”I love you too. I wish to be nowhere else but with you, you know that. I won’t leave you, never.”

Yes, Daniel loved Paris more than he had loved any other places they had lived in. But maybe it was mostly because he could see how much his companion loved it as well.

Armand found them a cozy place in Le Marais, and enrolled them both at La Sorbonne for night classes. Philosophy, history and art history, political sciences, anthropology, and everything that would even remotely struck his boundless curiosity.
Armand loved it, this little game of playing the young man amongst other young men. He loved to introduce Daniel as his younger boyfriend from the US. On s’est rencontrés à la Nouvelle-Orléans, dans le Vieux Carré, et depuis on ne peut plus se quitter. Isn’t that right, Trésor?¹ He loved the mortals around him, young and old, in this city that he knew so much.
They went to class and debated in groups after, and to private projections in underground cinemas. They went to parties in the catacombs, in smoky boudoirs, or on the rooftops of beautiful Haussmannian buildings.

_”Arnaud is an asshole,” Armand scoffed one night, his head resting on Daniel’s belly as they laid on a blanket on the Seine banks near Le Pont des Arts. Daniel could do nothing but chuckle. He loved it so much when he swore like this, a glimpse under the elegant armor he always wore. He plucked the cigarette from Armand’s fingers and took a drag.

_”He’s just a spoiled brat. And he’s only twenty for fuck sake, Armand chill.”

Armand turned toward him, and snatched back the cigarette.

_”You were twenty when we first met, and I don’t remember you ever being so arrogant. Or conceited.” He curled his lips. How utterly young he looked under the yellow lamp lights of the quays. How ridiculous in his human pettiness. He lied back down. “Plus, I don’t like how he looks at you.”

Daniel outwardly laughed, and Armand’s head bounced atop his belly.

_”Are you jealous?” He almost shrieked, disbelieving, as Armand sat up like a pissed cat disturbed from his nap.

_”Of course I am.” He knelt atop Daniel, huffing and puffing, and kissed him vindicatively. He was so warm with stolen blood. Daniel’s perfect killer. His jealous lover. When everyone they met were jealous of Daniel himself for having such an angel at his arm. “You are mine, and only mine, beautiful boy.”

The next night, Arnaud had touched Daniel’s thigh when their little student group had been out for drinks in their favorite bistro. And the day after that, his drained body was fished out of the Seine.

Yes, Daniel loved Paris.
He was going to ask Armand to turn him there.

Armand’s face comes into his field of vision, and Daniel realises that he has lost his glasses in the commotion. He’s a bit blurry, but Daniel can still see his eyebrows scrunched low over his almost yellow eyes, the irises two pinpricks absorbing the light around like minuscule black holes.

And yes, Daniel remembers wanting to spend every moment with him until the end of time, and loving him more than life itself.

_”What is this?” Armand gasps, his fists coming to clench the drenched collar of his shirt with a shaking desperation that at first looks out of character, before Daniel remembers who he is talking to. “What are you doing to me? How can you be doing this?”

Daniel blinks. His head is swimming so much, he feels like he’s going to pass out.

_”What do you mean what am I doing to you, you asshole?! You did this!” His breath comes out ragged. His shoulder is hurting him so badly he doesn’t think he will ever be able to move his arm again. “You took this, all of this, from me, you… You…”

But above him, Armand shakes his head. His dusty dark curls bounce prettily around his tormented face.
His fangs are down in his little doll mouth. Small, just like he remembers them. And goddamn, but he’s so beautiful. No wonder a monster kidnapped him to become his muse hundreds of years ago.

_”No.” Armand just breathes. “Tell me you’re doing this! How can you be doing this?”

Daniel doesn't understand. He’s not doing anything except dying right now.

Fuck.

There are dark spots dancing in front of his eyes.

God. He’s so cold.

          Life with Armand maddened Daniel.
He wanted the lavishness, the adventure, the love forever. He wanted to be with him, to hear him talk, to watch him laugh until the sun burned out in the sky, and the earth stopped spinning. But Armand had said no, when he had busted out the big question in Paris, and years after years he kept denying Daniel this perfect, eternal joy. They fought. Horrible screaming matches that left them both shattered to pieces, and later quietly seeking each other's touch to be built back up again.
They lived together for long periods of time, in beautiful penthouse flats or two storey houses Armand would get for them anywhere Daniel wished to live. He would cover him with gifts: expensive clothes and cologne, every amenity he could have wished for, cars, watches, books, motorcycles.
But still, he would always refuse to turn Daniel.
So, Daniel would leave slamming the door despite his promise, out of anger, frustration or spite, and go back to his other life, his human life. He would stay away as long as he could, until being far from Armand would feel like he was missing half of his organs, and he was forced to crawl back to him.

_”There is a new girl in my journalism firm.” He spat at him one evening, desperate for tears, or a fight. Anything that would keep his mind away from the idea that the monster holding his hand was going to let him die. Desperate for the proof that Armand would fight for him if needed. “She’s real cute. Clever. Her name’s Alice.”

But Armand hadn’t reacted as they walked together near the Thames.
The evening was still, and the lights of Canary Wharf were reflecting on the black water like a mirror. He had kept silent, his cold hand only squeezing Daniel’s for a second like the teeth of a wolf trap snapping shut around his knuckles.

They had fucked so hard that night that their four poster bed had broke. Daniel had cried into Armand’s chest afterward. His tears were tepid like seawater on his inhuman skin when they had laid entangled in the dark, on semen and blood soiled sheets.

_”I love you, Beloved, Sweetheart.” Armand murmured into his sweaty hair, soft as the wind outside. “Please, know it. Believe it.”

Daniel sobbed harder, unable to meet Armand’s eyes as he burrowed his snotty nose in his sternum. If he opened him up and curled up there, Armand would never be able to leave him. He’ll have to carry the heaviness of Daniel around his heart for always. The vampiric flesh would knit back around him, and they would never part ever again.

_”But I love you too. Won’t you believe that I love you too? Don’t leave me in this world without you, I won’t survive it.”

But yet again, Armand stayed silent.

          Daniel felt unstable those days. When he left, he would party and sleep around for a while, and cry again as the heroin, or the cocaine, the ecstasy, the ketamine, the methamphetamine coursed through his veins and stubbornly refused to let him stop thinking about Armand.

He was terrified of losing him, of losing this fantastical life he had tasted with him. Their talks, deep into the night, passionate and stimulating. All the things they’ve done and all the places they discovered together. The comfort they brought one another, and how easy it was to live alongside him, when Daniel had so often felt at odds with his own kind. All the wonders of Armand. His mysterious, childish and annoying Armand, his perfect undead lover.

But still, years after years Armand kept refusing him.

So Daniel left. He came back. He left again.
This time it will be for good, he told himself. I can’t keep putting my life on hold for him.
But he would always come back in the end, because he loved Armand. It was as simple as that.

          Daniel was lying on his side on the dirty floor of a shitty little bathroom, in a shitty little anonymous house in Hunts Point, in the Bronx. His ass was hurting in slow pulses of pain along his spine, and he thought that yeah, maybe he had overdone it this time. He hoped he hadn’t caught anything. He could still feel the last traces of the PCP in his body gently numbing everything, but still he was empty. The dope and the sex hasn’t helped, and what did he expect, really? Daniel wanted to cry.

A pair of thick heeled brogues stepped in front of him. He saw the naked ankles above the black leather, and recognized immediately the person they belonged to. His monster was back, and how he wanted to kiss those slim ankles!
Instead, he drooled a thin string of puke on the dirty off-white tiles.
Armand tutted, and knelt down on the filthy floor to help Daniel sit up. He gently brushed away the curls pasted to his sweaty cheeks. Daniel had found grey hairs in them this morning. Well, maybe the morning before that. He didn’t really know what day it was.

_”I’m getting old.” He slurred, his head lolling against Armand's glacial hands. He must not have been feeding for a while. This worried Daniel.
“You’re not.”

Armand sighed. His eyes were brown and very pretty, and Daniel still wanted to kiss his ankles. But he also wanted to throw up. Which he promptly did.

Armand held him as he retched and wept, tears and snot falling into the smelly puddle of his waste. He felt vile. He felt loved.
Daniel threw up some more.

          The blue dawn light was slanting through the wooden blinds of their Prague residence, and Daniel watched dust dance and twirl through the pale beams. His sternum ached with the strength it was taking him not to scream.

Sitting on the bed beneath the window, Armand was crying.
It was the first time Daniel was seeing his blood tears. His pain looked gentle, almost rehearsed, as if even now he still wouldn’t let himself express the full deepness of it. He had a hand cupped across his mouth, his other arm tense around his stomach, and was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Still, he stubbornly held himself together. It made Daniel feel wretched.

_”I love you,” Daniel said, he pleaded, and it died in a sob, an ugly one, an honest one. He was so angry, more angry than he had ever been before in his life, and so desperately sad too. He wished he could just scream and scream until he would spit out his bleeding lungs.

Armand took a sharp inhale, a strange womanly sound, and breathed through his nose several times. Then, his face closed off, and he could see every minute expression turn into a careful crafted mask. But it wasn’t perfect, it never was. The pinch at his brow, the slant of his mouth, it was plain enough for Daniel to see. Why did he think he had to hide, still? Didn’t Daniel prove enough that he loved him, no matter how strange, violent, and broken?
Armand smoothed his trembling palms on his jean clad thighs. Daniel wanted to hit him. He wanted to hug him.

_”I can’t do it, Daniel. Ask anything of me and I will give it to you. But not this.” He shook his head, and his lower lip quivered. “Anything but this.”

And wasn’t this a well known refrain.

_”I want to be with you, Armand. I want it more than anything in the world.”

          He was in Germany. Leipzig, maybe, or Stuttgart, he wasn’t sure. He only remembered the pulsing music, the flashing lights, and the concrete walls of the underground club. He also remembered that he didn’t care about what was on the little squares of paper when a very hot, very young woman with a sparkly tube top and spiky pigtails put them on his outstretched tongue.

He remembered that later Armand was yelling at him, passing up and down their hotel room like a tiger locked in a cage.

_”If you want to be burning your years away gallivanting with low-lifes and degenerates, fine! But risking your life like this? Are you so eager to die that you would trust just about any random WHORE to get high?”

Daniel chuckled. He was loopy, and reeling. His fingers were tingling, his mouth was dry, and he could feel the muscle ache of a low grade fever stiffening his joints and neck. Armand had helped him into a warm bath earlier, and had cleaned his hair for him. He had washed away the muck, and the sweat, and the spilled alcohol away, before bundling him up in one of the fluffy complimentary bathrobes of the hotel, all warmed from the heater, while quietly seething the whole time.
Well, he wasn’t quiet anymore.

_”Come on, baby,” Daniel drawled, still a bit high, and frankly pissed off too despite the gentle cocooning. “You know you’re the only whore I really trust.”

Armand stopped pacing. He looked hurt for a second as if he’d just been slapped, before his expression closed off in a detached, almost manic mask. Daniel felt a tingle down his spine at this, the terrified but aroused kind. God, he was so fucked up.

Armand seethed, his fangs down behind the perfect drawing of his lips:

_”Those are the drugs talking, obviously. But you nonetheless owe me an apology right n…”

_”Shut up,” Daniel cut him off, and Armand looked like he was about to set him alight with his mind right this second. “You fucking piss me off, you know that? You spend your entire damn life tying yourself oh so prettily to the train tracks, and then you cry like a bitch when no one comes to save you!” He pointed at Armand with an open palm, trying desperately once again to make him understand. “I could be yours. I could be invulnerable. I could be with you FOREVER, but no! You don’t want to! You’re choosing not to! All those fucking talks on how much you love me, all those gifts. I don’t give a SINGLE FLYING FUCK about them, Armand!”

Armand stood before him, a monster almost half a millenia old, looking like someone’s kid forgotten on the sidewalk. His fists were clenched so hard that his long sharp nails had pierced the skin of his palms, and blood was falling onto the nice carpet like red little teardrops.
Daniel was breathing hard, feeling like his brain was boiling. Fuck, he was… He was so angry! He stumbled a bit, and put a hand over his heart, trying to calm the wild beat of it rattling too hard in his chest. He wanted to say more, to scream at Armand to stop acting like the perfect victim and trust Daniel to know what he wanted. He was a man, damnit, getting older and older. But he didn’t want to grow old when Armand couldn’t. He didn’t want a life without him. He didn’t… He didn’t…

Daniel’s legs went weak at the knees, and he clumsily tried to right himself on the wooden gueridon next to the window. The whole thing toppled under his weight, and the phone propped on it fell painfully on his bare foot.

_”Daniel?” Armand gasped, coming in a blur to him. But Daniel’s head had already bounced with a dull thud on the Persian carpet. “Daniel!”

Daniel couldn’t reassure him that everything was okay, because when he opened his mouth, his body started to convulse. His spine arched painfully, and his skull knocked on the floor again. He realised with animal terror that he couldn’t breathe properly, and that his body wasn’t answering him anymore.
Armand was above him, his panicked, tearstained eyes searching his face, his cold hands holding his cheeks.

_” Arma…” Daniel gargled, breathless. He tried to claw at the vampire above him, but his hands were shaking too badly, and his arms didn’t have the strength to hold themselves aloft. “Ar…”

Bile burned his throat, and he couldn’t even gag to get it out. He started to choke on it, his nose, his mouth filled with it. He was so scared. He didn’t want to die like this. God, please not like this.

He felt Armand roll him effortlessly on his side, and the vomit pooled onto the rug, and in his hair, and against his cheek. His airway was clear again, but he still couldn’t breathe. He gasped and rasped, and his lungs were burning. His whole body was shaking badly with every panicked, aborted inhale.
But then, he felt careful, cold hands guiding his head, and something soft touched his lips. A skin he knew very well, but with a new, syrupy wet underneath. Iron and flowers and honey.

It was the best fucking thing Daniel had ever tasted. It felt like a sea breeze on his tongue, or the color of the golden hour, or the first kiss of many on a lazy day given shape. It was better than any petit coup, better than Armand’s fang-down blowjobs, better than a nighttime swim in the Mediterranean.
It was as if everything he had ever loved was wrapped in one single glorious, and fantasmagorical gift.
Sparks lit up in his brain like birthing stars, and for one eternal second, he was airborne and swimming in the cosmos.

He didn’t know how long the high lasted, but when he finally came down, it was still dark outside.
The only light in the room was coming from the lamp next to the comfortable bed he was lying in. Armand had drawn the covers over him, and left a glass of water on the bedside table with some painkillers. But Daniel didn’t need any. He felt relaxed, rested, and comfortable in his own skin like he never really had before. It was as if his brain and whole body had been scrubbed clean, and he felt fresh, and young without the little hurts that age had slowly brought him.

The door to the bathroom was closed, but light was seeping from underneath, and Daniel could smell the comforting stench of cigarettes coming from behind it.
He rose and went to gently knock, but no one answered. When he tried to push it open, he saw that it wasn’t locked.

Inside, Armand was sitting on the elegantly tiled floor, his back propped against the wide corner bathtub. One of his legs was curled up, the other splayed with the ankle twisting brokenly inward, and his arm was resting on his knee, with a lit cigarette slowly burning in the loose hold of his fingers. He was only wearing the white shirt he had on earlier, and he was absolutely covered in blood. He took a drag of his cigarette, but didn’t look at Daniel.
The mess in the tub was difficult to identify, but Daniel recognized the spiky pigtails atop the decapitated head resting under the tap. One of them was down, and the bleached white hair was now stained red and pink, and plastered to her bloody cheeks. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth gaped open. Maybe Armand had cut off her arms and legs, he couldn’t be sure amongst all the red everywhere.
Daniel closed the door and went back to bed.

          They got better after that. Armand grew gentle with him, as if he thought Daniel was going to collapse in his arms at any moment again. It drove Daniel insane. He wanted to shake him and yell that they were okay, that everything was good. Even if he knew that it would have been a lie.

They stayed in the US from now on. Their worldly years-long honeymoon was over, and Daniel didn’t want to admit it, but it was a bit of a relief to not be catching a new plane every two days. They moved to New York together, as Daniel couldn’t stay away from Armand for too long. He was slowly winning credence with his firm, and was getting more and more interesting jobs, with even a second book deal on the way. The only downside of their idyllic stay in their fantastic Upper East Side flat was that the blood had quickly become a necessity.

He could feel how Armand hated it every time he would open his neck, his chest or his wrist for Daniel to feed. But selfishly, Daniel didn’t care. He had quit everything else. No hard drugs were needed anymore, nor even weed or alcohol. He felt healthy, and strong, and his mind was clearer than it had ever been before. Every sip of Armand’s perfect dead blood was a better high than anything he had ever took, and each one was as good as the first.

_”I can’t have anything bad happen to you. I don’t want you wasting away.” Armand lamented one night as they laid together. His pretty orange eyes were dry, but his voice was raspy with a deep, contained pain. “I am hurting you, Lover. ”

He was right, of course. Despite how incredible the highs felt, the withdrawals were always brutal.

Daniel would often spiral into strange paranoia for hours on end, hallucinating shapes and lights he couldn’t comprehend, and would try to hurt himself to make it all stop. He would rant, and rave, and have violent fits where he would hurl abuse at Armand and dig into his fears and insecurities until Armand screamed back. And when the dust would settle he always felt terribly regretful of having tried to harm him.
Nausea and fever could keep him bedridden for days. He lost weight quickly, and his hair greyed quickly too.

And through all of this, Armand would try to help him as best as he could. He played the perfect suffering nurse so well, desperate to alleviate the curse he had put on Daniel.
He flew in the best doctors of the world, and disappeared inside himself when they told him that there was nothing they could really do to help Daniel, as they couldn’t find any sources for his affliction. So Armand would relent, and give him his blood to feel better again, and again, and again.

But Daniel knew what needed to be done for him to be better for good, and he hated Armand for not doing it.

Daniel is snickering. Or at least he thinks he is. He cannot really feel much of his face anymore.

He's learning so much about himself, right now. And isn't that a trip?

So apparently, they were all wrong. There isn’t any tunnel of white light at the end.
He needs to tell the world before he dies. One last case cracked for the road.

He wants to move, or to speak, but he cannot. His body is numb, and heavy, and cold. Daniel prays that he didn’t shit his pants in his last moments because it would be much too undignified, really. He is already bleeding like a pig all over the nice grey carpet under him, and it looked expensive. He hopes one of the vampires will have to toss it out. Ten millions, plus whatever the abject prize of this thing was lost to their doomed little enterprise.

Well, he needs to look at the bright side now more than ever. At least he’s going with his mind whole and his memories intact. He still doesn’t want to die, of course. He has so many new questions that he needs answered. But obviously the universe doesn’t give a damn about what he wants.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp pull at the back of his head, and he feels like he’s slammed back into his body with the violence of a highway carcrash.
He doesn't have the time to try to understand what’s happening to him, because there’s something wet against his lips. And, oh yes, it’s even better than he remembered.
He snatches Armand’s little bird wrist with both his hands, and pushes his tongue into the already closing slit, opening it up again to lap at the red heavenly draught. He bites down hard on the sinewy cluster of veins and pulls harshly, but his teeth are too blunt, and his jaw is too weak to pierce the skin. He hears Armand gasp in pain above him. Or is that a moan? Who knows.

Masochistic little beast.

God, but it tastes so good. And it makes him be not so cold anymore.

When he blinks his eyes open, there’s a weight on his chest, and blurrily, he sees Armand lying there like a mourning widow lamenting her lost love. He’s not moving, not even breathing, solid as a statue on top of him.

Daniel sighs. He painfully lifts his good arm and uses the few traces of strength given back by the blood to put it around the vampire’s shoulders. His palm caresses the whole length of his spine, down and up and down again, and he feels him shudder under the touch.

Hell. This creature is a liar, a coward, a monster of the worst sort, and how dare he act as he’s the victim again? After he took apart Daniel’s mind twice. After he killed him.
But still, Daniel squeezes Armand’s shaking back, because he’s too tired to be angry anymore, and he remembers now how it felt like to want to protect him, to want him happy more than anything. And because he knows now that this is the person Daniel had loved the most in his long, long life. Sorry to his daughters, sorry to his wives, but they already knew that he was a piece of shit anyway.

_”It’s okay, Baby.” He rasps, and the pet name feels so natural on his tongue. “Don’t cry, you’re okay, you’re fine. Stay with me.”

Armand doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move.
Daniel starts feeling woozy again, and even though the body above him is very cold and very hard, having it back in his arms feels right. It feels perfect.

Daniel’s eyes flutter close.
Armand smell is all around him, the soft velvet of his thick hair under his hand, as it should.

There’s pain in his neck again, and honey on his tongue, and he goes back swimming in the stars.

Someone is crying, so close. He wants to dry their tears.

Red… Like all the blood under him.

And then there’s nothing else.

          It was night outside, as it always was lately. Daniel doesn’t remember the last time he had seen the sun. He must be developing a severe case of vitamin D deficiency.
He’s in a gaudy and beige monster of a room in Las Vegas’s Four Seasons hotel, and he’s going out of his mind with anxiety.

He came to Sin City to write an article about a recently busted ring of human traffickers, and was tasked to interview some of the girls that were coerced into prostitution here.
He had insisted Armand didn’t come, but the vampire had stubbornly followed him anyway. He was scared that Daniel would need the blood, and Daniel was scared that he would be hurt by the subject at hand.

Daniel was right to be worried, because Armand had disappeared early the night before, and had left Daniel out of his mind with dread. He was so terrified of the possibility that his lover had fallen into one of his mute strokes, and wasn’t able to protect himself against other vampires, or seek shelter away from the sun. Plus, the need for a high had been back for the last four hours, and Daniel was contemplating going down to the city to get some much needed coke to take the edge off. Or maybe he should get weed, or some over the counter Valium to help him relax. God, he was feeling so jittery and anxious he wanted to tear his hair off by the fistful.

Armand, where are you? Are you okay? Answer me goddamnit! He thought as loudly as he could for the umpteenth time. He paced up and down his room until his feet were sore, all the while twisting his hands fretfully.
Hours passed, and Daniel had picked at the skin around his fingers until they bled, and had destroyed the hotel Bible left in their dresser, leaving the torn pages in hundreds of little pyramids of tattered paper all over the furniture. He was going insane, he wanted to destroy everything around him. He had started calling random people on the phone to tell them in a scary voice that he was going to kill their dogs or their wives to take his mind off things, when Armand finally came back.

When he saw the dark silhouette cross the threshold, Daniel knew instantly that something was deeply wrong.

Armand looked wretched.
His cheeks were dry and clean, but the usual white of his eyes was pink with the remnant of tears, and there was caked blood crusted under his chin where he hadn’t been careful enough to wipe it off.

Worse than anything else was the vacancy behind his stare. It was the exact same as when Daniel insisted a bit too much about being turned, or when he woke up with a start in their bed, the very few times he actually fell asleep in Daniel’s arms, and was unable to speak anything but Italian for a while.
Armand didn’t greet him, didn’t even look at him. He stood, silent, his shoulders rising and falling as he watched the gleaming snake of traffic slithering on the roads, down, down, outside the window. Daniel rushed to him, so angry and relieved at the same time, but didn’t dare touch him for now. Instead, he gently took hold of his sleeve, careful as not to brush the skin underneath. Before he could say or ask anything, Armand turned to him. His glossy eyes slid over Daniel’s face to get lost in a distant point over his shoulders, miles away.

_”Beloved.” He breathed.

It was barely there sigh, the dull sound of a steel bell. Sirens screamed inside Daniel’s head.

_”Are you okay?” He choked a bit in his panic.
Telegraphing his movements slowly, he grabbed Armand’s face between his hands. God, but his skin was cold, colder than it had ever been under Daniel’s touch. Armand didn’t answer. He shook his head, just a fraction, and Daniel felt the movement against his palms more than he saw it.

His stomach churned with stress, and with a careful arm around his shoulder he guided him toward the giant bed in the center of the room. The cream colored duvet whispered a soft sound when they sat at the foot of it, and Armand still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

_”Did somebody hurt you?” He asked him, already blind with rage at the mere prospect of it. Armand laughed a mirthless giggle, like someone who didn’t know how else to react.

_”You are dying.” He said, instead of answering him.
It sounded like the last begging bleat of a lamb at the altar. His humid eyes were shining with the reflected shimmering light of the Vegas skyline outside.

“I cannot save you. No matter how much of my blood I give.”

He blinked, and a lone tear painted a bloody trail down the varnished wood of his face. It stained the collar of his shirt. It was one of Daniel’s flannel ones, tucked under an elegant brown suit, and added to the dark blotch already there. It made him look like a bleeding-heart dove, and Daniel only now realised how badly he was shaking. His hands were twisting in his laps, his thumbs caressing the knuckles in a desperate effort to sooth.

”So he’s… He’s going to save you for me. From me.”

_”What the fuck are you talking about, Armand?”

_”Marius is alive. He knows how to help you. He found me.” He said, and another tear stained his chest. The knot of his hands grew tighter, the shakes agitating them worryingly apparent. “He wasn’t able to reach me before.” He continued, and Daniel could see how much he was trying to convince himself as much as him when he said this.

Daniel scoffed.

_”You’re talking about the diddler that whore you out? That son of a bitch? I interviewed a bunch just like him in the past week, all shitstains too.”

Armand finally looked at him then, and his eyes were alive again, thank god, even if it was to frown reproachfully at Daniel. It always made him feel like a kid when he did that, even if Daniel was almost thirty-three now.
Quickly the ire seemed to melt however, and the all-encompassing sadness came back. Armand took Daniel’s hand in his, and it pleased Daniel every time to see how well they matched. His big palms and Armand’s elegant ones. How dainty those fingers he loved so much were.

_”Don’t jest now, Lover.” He admonished. “He saw you, and he wasn’t pleased.”
Daniel wanted to say that if Marius wasn’t pleased with him he could go suck a thousand dicks and see if Daniel cared, but Armand looked so tired, as if he was about to break down sobbing or keel over at any moment.

“He wants to meet you.”

Daniel wanted to protest, tell him there was no way in hell, of course, but before he could, Armand used the undefeatable weapon of his wide, pleading eyes, and how could he say no to him then?

The vampire disappeared for a long moment into the bathroom, and climbed into bed after, his skin all warmed now by what seemed to have been a very hot shower. Without a word he kissed Daniel, deepening their embrace with desperate strength when Daniel kissed back.
Daniel gasped when his bottom lip got nipped by the sharp fangs of his love, and tried to push him back. But Armand grew frantic as he tried to take Daniel’s t-shirt off, and tore the collar at the seams in his haste. Daniel tried to calm him down, terrified of the meltdown Armand was obviously having, but at his refusal Armand quickly went hysterical.
He broke down into sobs that split Daniel’s heart apart. High keens like the cries of a wounded fox. He buried his bloody face in the warm crook of Daniel’s neck, his body rocking with strangled hiccups, his desperate wails raspy and wet with snot. He grabbed two fistfuls of Daniel’s hair in his trembling hands, as if he didn’t want him to leave again, even if Daniel had promised him a long time ago that he wouldn’t, and already betrayed that vow a thousand times already.
He tried for a while to sooth him as best as he could, caressing his back and holding him tight as he trembled, kept squashed beneath his shivering weight. And, in the frightened silence, Armand finally begged with the horrible voice of a little kid, hurried and almost incoherent:

_”Fuck me. Please Daniel, fuck me. I need you. I need you with me.”

Daniel felt like he was going to vomit as Armand rocked above him, his eyes glassy as he fucked himself mechanically on Daniel’s cock, his face a bloody mess of tears. And later, tangled into satin sheets and each other's arms, Armand held him so tight that it bruised him. He was lying with his ear above Daniel’s heart, his nails digging half moon in the skin of his chest.

Daniel felt like it was the last time that they would ever get to share a bed like this. Neither of them slept a wink that day.

          Marius de Romanus invited them to meet at his grandiose tudor mansion in the disgustingly posh Seattle neighborhood of Laurelhurst, of all the fucking places in the world.
The house was very big, and very beautiful, with rows of casement windows looking out toward Lake Washington, and to the faint glimmering lights of the bay across. Inside, paintings of all kinds of different art periods covered the walls, and every piece of furniture was made of shining dark wood, in a quiet masculine style. Trinkets from all over were neatly organised on shelves and inside of gleaming cabinets. It all looked clustered, but in a traveling dandy kind of way, and Daniel had to admit that besides the apprehension driving him half mad, he was also deeply intrigued.
They were waiting in the foyer for the master of the house to arrive, their coats securely taken out of sight by the discreet help. Armand looked so stressed that Daniel thought that he was going to barf on the nice lacquered parquet at any given moment. He took his hand and squeezed reassuringly, telling him without words that he was there, that Armand wasn’t alone. It made him smile softly, and Daniel’s heart fluttered as it always did in response.

When Marius arrived a second later, the fluttering stopped, and his stomach dropped.

He sometimes forgot that Armand was a very, very old creature. When he was animated and happy, he could even almost look like any other young man. But not Marius.
Marius wore the innumerable years of his existence like a heavy clock, and moved with the difficult grace of a crocodile, as if time had weighed him down. He had the quiet dignity and tranquility of a benevolent god, and the austere presence of someone who knows that he is superior to you in every way. It made Daniel distrust him instantly.

Marius was wearing an elegant three piece suit in a dark blue tartan, with a patterned pale blue tie looped into a christensen knot at his throat. The color made Daniel cringe, because Armand had fretted terribly as they were getting ready. He hadn’t known if he should go for red or blue, and Daniel hadn’t asked why it mattered, but he knew now. In the end, Armand hadn’t listened to him anyway when he had suggested red. He still looked like a dream in his duck egg silk shirt, with the long scarf collar of it knotted in a bow loose enough for the gold and diamond necklaces he was wearing to be shown. He had donned his rings too, which Daniel loved. They were matching, the maker and his fledgling, and Daniel felt like a total ass with his Sonic Youth t-shirt and his aviator jacket.

The blue matched Marius’s eyes as well, which had the glacial hue of an underwater iceberg. When they fell on him, Daniel could almost feel them pierce into his skull to dig into his innermost thoughts and desires.

Marius walked up to them, and cradled Armand’s face gently between his hands. They were so big and pale against the dark skin of his love. He bent down, his long plait of grey and platinum hair falling over his shoulder, and kissed Armand on the lips.

_”Amadeo. My angel. My love.” He said, and his voice was deep and rumbling like a brewing storm. Daniel’s sternum vibrated with the pitch.

Armand was shaking. His jeweled hands came to grasp at Marius’s lapels, as if to stop him from getting away from him ever again.
_”Master.” He gasped in a ruined whisper that made Daniel want to scream.

As if sensing his disgust, Marius then turned to Daniel slowly, a god-wolf as old as the world, and took him by the shoulders. He was so tall, taller than Armand and him both, and his hands felt like anchors pushing him down onto the floor. Daniel shivered under the deep cold that pierced the leather and wool of his jacket.

_”And this is Daniel. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Daniel didn’t answer, because he was pretty sure that if he opened his mouth he would just spit right into one of Marius’s creepy bright eyes, and most definitively get killed for the offense in the next second.

Seemingly not offended by this lack of answer, Marius clapped his hands, and guided them toward an august living room. It was grandiose, with a shed ceiling that made everything cozy, a deep burgundy couch and a joyful fire crackling in a gigantic stone hearth against the wall across. Armand went to the leather club chair near the fireplace without being asked, his back ramrod straight as he sat, his eyes lost in the flames, and left Daniel to stand up awkwardly next to him.

Marius walked toward the chestnut cabinet at the back of the room, and poured them three glasses of what seemed to be a very expensive whisky. He gave one to Armand first, who took it delicately but didn’t drink it.

_”As Amadeo must have told you, our kind cannot taste human food, but I sometimes like to indulge in alcohol. It’s very pleasant on my tongue.” He told Daniel, before taking a sip and humming contently. “And there is cause to celebrate too, don’t you think? The three of us, here, together?”

He gave him the third glass, and when their fingers touched, human warmth against cadaver coldness, Daniel felt like a snake was slithering against the moist folds of his brain, his thoughts pierced again. He shivered so hard that nausea climbed up his throat, and he took a shaky sip of whisky to try and hide his discomfort. Damnit, it was really good.

_”Yeah.” He croaked. “Always a pleasure meeting the parents.”

Marius chuckled.

_”He has a strong mind.” He said appreciably, as he turned toward Armand with the slowness of a killing tide. “He’s very clever, this one. It’s not going to be easy.”

Armand nodded stiffly.
His head was held up high, and he kept his eyes downcast, like he was posing for a painting. It was the perfect face of the martyred saint, the one he wore when he was pretending not to be here, when he was hidden deep into the safety of his mind. The coil of apprehension in Daniel’s guts grew tighter.

_”Babe, what is he talking about?” He asked.

Armand didn’t answer him. This blasted silence again. Instead, Armand looked up toward Marius and asked:

_”Are you sure it is truly necessary? E se non volesse più farlo? Se gli facesse male?²”

Marius smiled genially, all sweet honey and unyielding authority.

_”Of course it is, Angel.” He put his large hand at the nape of Armand’s neck as he would with a pet he was proud of, or a kid he wanted to force into obedience. “This is for his own good, and yours as well. He will be happy, after. I promise.”

Armand nodded again, and rose with Marrius’s pull. His eyes were lost far away, glossy and blank, but his careful mask was unable to fully hide his fear. They stepped toward Daniel who stepped back.

What the fuck was happening?

_”What’s all this?” He barked. “Armand, answer me!”

He was starting to be afraid too. An animal feeling in his guts was telling him to leave. He needed to take Armand, and run as far away from this wretched place as they could.

“Listen Baby, whatever this is, we can talk about this together later.”
He felt like a decision had been reached without his consent, and he was terrified of not knowing what it was. Was Marius going to kill him? He knew Armand could hypnotise people.

Marius ran his hand through Armand’s silky curls, musing their artful styling, and stepped back.

_”Obbedisci³. I’ll let you say goodbye.”

Daniel’s legs almost buckled from under him.

Goodbye?

_”What the fuck are you on about? Why would he say goodbye?” He screamed at Marius, unable to tear his eyes away from Armand for more than a few seconds. His face was as cold and as distant as the moon, and it felt so alien to have him closed off like this. Daniel’s heart was beating so loudly he could feel it in his teeth. He stepped forward to grab the graceful knot of Armand’s shirt and tugged on it violently, trying something, anything to make the vampire react.

“What is he talking about?” He demanded despondently, and at Armand’s prolonged silence, he threw his glass of whisky into the fireplace.
It exploded in a terrifying roar of flames that licked the back of his pants, but he didn’t care.

“ANSWER ME!” He hollered.

Armand had jumped at the sudden light and noise, and had grabbed Daniel’s jacket by reflex, plastering himself against him. To protect or be protected, Daniel didn’t know.
He turned large eyes toward Daniel’s, his unneeded breathing unsteady, and Daniel closed his arms around him as an apology. He knew Armand didn’t like fire, but at least he didn’t seem dead to the world anymore.

Marius sighed at the spectacle, as if Daniel was just a child throwing a tantrum.

_”See, Cherub?” He asked in a calm, deep voice from where he was standing regally next to the blood red couch. “This is what you do to men. You drive all of us insane.”

Armand started to shake against him, and Daniel wanted to claw Marius’s eyes off. He had enough of this bullshit.

_”Okay,” he said, after breathing in deeply to try and calm himself down. He grabbed Armand’s wrist and tugged him toward the door. “Come on, Baby. We’re going.”

But the door closed by itself with a bang, and Armand had become solid and unmovable in his arms. Daniel yanked at him again with all his strength, but he was unyielding where he stood.

“Let’s leave, Armand. Come on, let’s go!” Daniel pleaded, feeling more and more desperate, and near hysterical.

Instead of following him, Armand took hold of the hand that was tugging at him, and knotted his fingers together with Daniel’s. He bent his head to reverently kiss his knuckles.
His eyes. God, the desperate hurt of a dying animal with its leg stuck in a trap. Daniel felt frustrated tears rose to his.

“Come on, please. Please!”

_”Amadeo loves you, Daniel.” The voice of Marius came from behind him suddenly, and Daniel jumped in fear. “You should be glad that he’s sparing you the pain of immortality. None of us were given that chance.”

_”Shut up! SHUT UP! It isn’t your decision to make if I become like you or not, you gigantic shitstain!” Tears finally fell from his eyes, and he took Armand’s face between his violently shaking hands. “I love him!” He screamed toward Marius, and then to Armand, desperate to be heard, to be understood at long last: “I love you. I love you! I want to be with you. So let’s leave, okay? We’ll talk about this calmly once we’re home, come on.”

But Armand still stood still, and when he finally spoke the word fell onto Daniel’s neck like the blade of an axe.

_”Rest.”

Daniel's breath stuck in his throat. He couldn’t move anymore.

Gently, slowly, Armand peeled Daniel’s fingers from his face, and stepped back. He looked at him, blood tears pooling in the candlelight of his darling eyes, but before they could fall he tucked himself against Marius’s open side to hide. The millennium old vampire draped a gentle arm around his trembling shoulders, and drew him closer against him covetously. A fierce Pluto taking Proserpina back to the underworld, far, far away from Daniel.

Daniel spat through tightly clenched teeth, trying desperately to speak, to order this beast to stay away from Armand, but he was forcefully kept silent.
Suddenly, his body moved without his command. He walked stiffly to the couch, and sank unwillingly into the comfortable cushion like a broken doll.

Marius whispered something into the dark head tucked in his chest, so low that Daniel couldn’t even hope to hear it, and Armand nodded. He went to sit back into the leather chair, a perfect and abominable blank copy of earlier. The remnant of his tears was slowly drying on his skin, and the hands on his knees couldn’t stay still.
Marius came to sit too, gracefully lowering himself next to Daniel’s prone form.

_”Amadeo’s blood is killing you. But you already know that, don’t you Daniel?” He took a curl fallen over Daniel’s eyes between two fingers, and gently tucked it back over his forehead.

“When I found you both, it was a terrible shock. See, I have kept a close eye on my darling for many years now, but to be perfectly frank I never expected for Amadeo to be so irresponsible.”
Daniel could feel Armand tense without even having to see him, and he wanted to yell at Marius to stop treating him like a child and acting like he wasn’t even here. “Not only did he show himself to a mere human boy and revealed manyfold secrets of our kind, but he was also foolish enough to give you his blood. You.“ He curled his lips in a sneer. “A known addict.”

He turned to Armand, and smiled gently at him. “I know that because of Amadeo’s intrinsic defects of his birth he can sometimes act unwise, but I have forgiven him a long time ago for it.” Daniel’s fists hitched for a punch. He had never craved to hurt someone as badly as he wanted to hurt Marius right now. He knew that the vampire had heard him, but he still turned the same benevolent smile to him.

“You cannot remain with your memories intact, Daniel. I will not allow it. I know that your first meeting was already taken from you by my young love, but this will not suffice.”

Daniel fought against the hold with all his strength. He wished to shake his head, to run, to beg, but he could only scream behind his tightly closed teeth as tears kept burning a path down his cheeks.

“You are too dangerous to us, and to him. And, he is too dangerous to you.”

Marius placed one of his big hands against Daniel’s cheek, and thumbed at the water there.

“Do not fret, Daniel. It won’t hurt. You will feel better after, I promise.”

Daniel screamed again, then suddenly, the hold that had gagged him was gone.

_”No, no, no, please. I beg of you, do not do this. Don’t do this to me!” He sobbed, his voice raw. He needed to turn toward Armand, to see him, and to shake him and ask why he was letting this happen, but he couldn’t. He knew, he knew this was his stupid, egoistical, and delusional way of saving Daniel’s life. That bastard! “Please, Armand, Baby, don’t let him do this to me! Don’t let him take you away from me! Don’t make me forget you! Everything… Anything but this, please!”

This couldn’t be happening. He would die without Armand, he didn’t want a life empty of him.

I don’t want this for the eternity, or the strength, or the health, you asshole! I don’t want the flight, or the fire. I only want to spend every night from then on with you, as equals, forever!

Then, fantastically, his body was free as well as his voice. Armand's voice boomed like a gong in his head.

Run!

Daniel kicked and scrambled to rise, and when Marius tried to grab him, Armand was suddenly on his back like a feral cat.

RUN, BELOVED!

Daniel ran.
He barreled through the living room door, when a resounding crash made the walls of the house shake. Everywhere echoed the sound of trinkets falling from their shelves and breaking on the floor.
Daniel turned, because how could he not when he heard a sharp keen of pain coming from Armand.

The far wall had a giant dent in it, and in the center of the room, next to the fallen chair, Marius had Armand pinned to the floor by his throat. He was pushing down so hard that the parquet was splintering under the younger vampire's wildly bucking body. Armand looked terrified, his orange eyes very wide as he scratched at the skin of Marius’s hand and wrist. The lacerations closed as quickly as they were opened, and Marius tutted like an impatient teacher. With his free hand, he easily grabbed both of Armand’s wrists to make him stop, as if he was dealing with an unruly child, and not someone older than the steam locomotive.

_”I am very disappointed in you, my darling. We agreed on what needed to be done.”

Without thinking, Daniel picked the poker fallen next to the fireplace, and with a yell, he plunged it with all his strength into Marius’s chest.
He felt the bones and organs cede under the blunt iron, until the sharp hook went through, pulling viscera toward free air with the crook of its vicious finger.

_”GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Daniel’s arms were burning with the effort it had taken him to pierce this beast, and he knew it wasn’t enough. He had barely even scratched him. Marius’s blood had splattered all over Armand’s face beneath him, but the vampire looked unfazed by the attack.
Glacial, bored eyes turned toward Daniel, and he was flung against the couch with an invisible force that knotted the breath out of him. His head met the wall above with a loud thud, and the shock rattled his skull. His head swam as he rolled brokenly down on the fancy carpet.
Spots danced in front of his eyes, and when he groggily raised his head, he saw Armand’s legs still kicking from under Marius’s unyielding body. He was thrashing and screaming, high pitched half heard words Daniel couldn’t make.

Marius’s voice boomed like a sudden clap of lighting, cutting the begging pleas.

_”THAT’S ENOUGH!” He grabbed Armand roughly by the jaw. “Stop moving, Amadeo.”

Armand immediately ceased struggling and fell limp like a broken puppet on the floor.

Marius sighed. He gently tried to thumb away the blood splattered on Armand’s face, but there was far too much of it.

“I was worried that this would happen. You were always weak of will, but I never imagined you acting so foolishly for such an unextraordinary boy.”

He rose, and tugged down the lapels of his jacket, smoothing it down with his palms. The blue tweed had turned black down to his ankles, wet and shiny. He sighed again, as if this whole ordeal was beneath him, and not some horror show he had orchestrated himself.
He looked down at the prone figure of Armand lying helplessly on the ruined floor, his voice going softer with pity.

“I can see now that only cleansing the boy won’t be enough. I unfortunately cannot help you as I can him, my love, but others can. Pandora has become quite adept at the mind gift as well, under my tutelage. Soon you will be able to go back to your Louis, and leave all of this inconsequential infatuation behind. Aren’t you happy?”

Marius turned toward Daniel, who was stubbornly crawling toward Armand.

Daniel couldn’t turn his eyes from him, his body sprawled, his face twisted toward him in a broken angle.

Run, Daniel! Run. Run. Run. Run! The litany of pleas was echoing in his head. But Daniel couldn’t listen to them.

Armand’s bright orange irises were vibrating, as bright as the fire roaring behind him. His eyes were beseeching, begging Daniel to leave, to flee. But Daniel couldn’t, not without him. Never without him.

Daniel saw two wing tip clad feet come into his swimming field of vision. He was lifted by a fist in his hair, and dumped back on the couch as if he weighed nothing.

Marius looked around to the destroyed living room with a moue.

_”What a mess,” he admonished them both. And to Daniel, still regal and calm, unbothered by the destruction he was bringing to both their lives, he chided: “This was one of my favorite suits, you know.”

Daniel smacked at him ineffectively when Marius grabbed his chin. He felt like he was going to faint, his nose bleeding down to his shirt from the shock to his head. But he couldn’t stop fighting. Not now.

_”Let us go, you bastard! Why are you doing this?!”

Marius chuckled, his head tilting as his eyes tenderly roved over Daniel’s bloody face.

You foolish, foolish little mortal child. His voice caressed the nooks of Daniel’s brain, and acrid bile rose in his throat. How could you even begin to understand the thread linking both of our hearts, as maker and fledgling? Amadeo is mine. He always has been. To own, to hold, and to love.

_”But you didn’t come for him, you fucking asshole! You left him alone! You…” A terrible pain suddenly pierced his temples. It felt like his head was in a vice, and he screamed hoarsely.
On the floor, Armand screamed from behind his teeth too, his unmoving body racked by sobs. Blood tears ran down the side of his face down into his disheveled hair.

And, maybe it was because this was the last time that Daniel would ever see his face, this face he loved so much, the face he would die for, but Daniel thought that he had never looked so beautiful as he did right now.
The fire was turning his curls orange. His fiery, suffering angel.

Invisible fingers pushed and twisted into the deepest recesses of Daniel’s mind, and the pain was excruciating.
Maybe he was going to die. Maybe Marius would not let him leave after his little stunt, after all. But at least, the last thing he would get to see was Armand.

His Armand.
The love of his life.

Pain, now.
Daniel was confused. His head was swimming.

Pain, again. And again. And again.

What was happening to him? Where was he?

Armand.

Armand…

The bus window was rattling against his head, and Daniel swallowed around the sour taste in his mouth.
The rain was falling outside, pattering against the cold glass.

He was wearing clothes that didn’t belong to him.
There was… Red here, on the collar.

Shit, his nose was bleeding again.

Something was missing.
He couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly.

Daniel swallowed again. Fuck, he was thirsty.

When he finally came to, Daniel was standing in a deserted parking lot next to the Greyhound Bus Station in the middle of Milwaukee.
He didn’t have a bag with him, and there was nothing in his pockets except some lint, a crumpled tissue full of blood, and a gold clip holding a wad of five-hundred dollar bills.

He couldn’t remember how he got there, or what he was doing before just now.
The noise of the cars was a distant buzz far away, and above him the lamplight flickered for a second. The windows all around were dark, not a soul in sight.

Alone, in the void of the night, Daniel screamed until his voice gave out.

He didn’t know why he did. He just couldn’t help it.

A dog barked in the distance. Daniel scratched his burning throat, put his shaking hands in his pockets, and started to walk.

When Daniel opens his eyes again, he is very surprised to still be alive.

Outside, the sun has fully set over Dubai.

He blinks, and feels something warm run down the side of his face down into his ears, and hen he touches the wet there, his fingers come away bloody.
Has he been crying?

There’s something wrong with his hand.
His nails are long and sharp now, and shine like polished glass. The skin is pale, but not with the grayish sallowness of the illness that devoured his body during the last years of his life anymore. He turns it around, wiggles his fingers, and watches rapturously how it almost shimmers in the silvery darkness. The liver spots on the back are gone, the pores of it very tight.
He blinks again. He doesn’t have his glasses on, he notes, but nothing is blurry.

Fuck.

He gently probs at the side of his neck. Dried blood is crusted into the fibers of the carpet beneath him, and everywhere on his skin, his clothes, his hair, but the wound is closed. Not even so much as a scar is marring his throat as a reminder of this night, no twin to keep the one Louis gave him company.

When he sits, his body is empty of the myriad of usual little pains of old age. His joints, muscles, and organs feel as good as new. Better than new.

He cannot hear his own heart anymore however, which should maybe worry him a bit, but it does not.
He stands up and doesn’t pop anywhere, or feel the need to use his hands on his knees to help, no. He leaps upward instead, light and spright as a young fox. With an elated smile, he lets himself fall back with his arms up. His palms meet the floor, and he effortlessly does a backward cartwheel as if it is as easy as walking.

He feels a laugh bubbling up his throat, but when the sound echoes hollowly into the darkness he chokes on it.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_”Armand?” He calls into the minimalist emptiness of the penthouse. But somehow he knows that Armand isn’t there. He can feel it down to the marrow of his bones.

On the far wall, the hole is still here, so similar to the one in his memories of this cursed house in Seattle.
There’s a few spots of blood on the dusty floor. Crumbs. Red ghosts of a presence he doesn’t want to tell himself he needs near.

His head is buzzing, quick and clear, his mind alive with questions.

So, this is why he was so fascinated by Rashid, why he was so deeply drawn to Armand. His own fucked up gothic romance. God, he owed Louis a thousand apologies.

Very well.
The facts were these:

He’s now a vampire, that much is obvious.
Apparently, his life too is a telenovela.
Marius is alive.
Armand got his memories of Daniel taken from him, just as Daniel had his. But he remembers now, surely, just as Daniel does.
Daniel used to love him, very, very deeply.
Daniel doesn’t know what he feels for him anymore.

Armand… Armand gave him the Dark Gift at long last. Armand left him behind.

The idea repulsed me, repulse me.
Yeah, right.

Daniel dusts his pants, and puts his fists on his hips.
No, no, no, this was good. All good. Daniel didn’t like having nothing to do, anyway. Most of the reason why he came to Dubai in the first place was because he was bored out of his damn mind in his forced retirement.

Well, he certainly won’t be bored anymore.
Because he has a plan:

First, he was going to find Armand, and punch him really, really hard across the face for dining and dashing.
Then, he was going to find Marius de Romanus, and he was going to also punch him really, really hard across the face, cut off his balls as well, and maybe kill him too for good measure.
And then, maybe he’ll try and meet Lestat once and for all to see what all the fuss was about.

But for now he’s really hungry, and what better place than Dubai to find his first victim?
Who knows, maybe he’ll fall upon a shoddy investment banker fiscally expatriated here, or one of those famed alpha bros from TikTok he heard so much about.

And once he’s satiated, he’ll go after Armand. He knew him now better than he had known anyone else, he knew how he worked, his favorite places, the ones he’ll avoid. He wanted to, he needed to find him before all else. He had the shape of the thing missing from his heart, and he knew he could fill it, after all.

But until then, it was time to hunt.