Chapter Text
The early stages of turning held no elegance. Vampirism was nothing more than a romanticized tale of transcendence, an autoscopy bestowed with pretentious omnipotence.
Quite frankly, it was all bullshit. The draining, the biting frigidness replaced in the emptiness in his veins served as a poor preliminary to what followed. No, there was no elegance or intact dignity to the transformation of the undead. It was primitive and disgusting in the way all autonomy and sense of coherence were brutally stripped. Daniel would say it was much like the horrific pressure in one's bowels, the persistent assault while battling in a pool of your own grimy sweat in hopes of vainly trying to clench and prevent the rapidly approaching diarrhea in your guts from soiling your pants.
The first night was arguably the worst. Violated in the righteous name of love and abandoned, Daniel felt no longer human- was no longer human. He hardly remembered the after or how he had stumbled out into the streets and happened upon his first unfortunate victim. The hunger, the euphoria of the fresh, warm blood, the high, and his fix. It was all shamefully intimate. Regret would come crashing in later, when the fog of hunger would dissipate from the clutches of his mind, faced with the crime of passion in his bloody hands, the mangled body of a young, nameless woman laid out in a hapless, broken form.
He was not proud of it, but it was the price of his monstrous nature, now. Daniel was a bitter 69-year-old human, even more so as a vampire. He was mad at the world; he was mad at Louis for sparing no more than a few meaningless words and a fuckload of money as compensation, leaving him to the mercy of his ex-husband while he scampered off to find Lestat. Well, fuck Louis and his 114-year-old situationship; he has had quite enough of their melodramatic bullshit. He didn't need anyone, not a caretaker, not a friend of convenience, and definitely not his Maker. He had fucked up two different marriages and two daughters, all of whom hadn't spoken to him in years. Daniel was no stranger to the throes of loneliness.
The first few weeks consisted of trial and error. He used the limited material from his interviews as a stepping stone for the general, most crucial rules of vampirism. Though among the ocean of horseshit, there were definitely several perks about it all. The absence of uncontrollable tremors, for one, was startling. Liberating. The privilege of being able to pick up a glass cup and not playing it fifty-fifty in his head about whether he would have to, once again, clean up his mess because his body was unable to execute a simple task, nearly brought him to tears. The excruciating bradykinesia, the unbearable stiffness in the ache of his muscles, oftentimes rendering him completely paralyzed. On the contrary, Daniel hadn't felt so alive, ironically enough, since the 80s.
And then, there was the issue of his revitalized, raging libido. It was beyond embarrassing and frustrating, feeling as if he was going through puberty for the second time in his life, now equipped with the fat, saggy, and wrinkly body of his 69-year-old self. During his younger years, Daniel considered himself a man of a high sex drive. He was somewhat of a player, with tomes of written regrets on past actions, but this- this was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. At first, he tried to ignore the simmering sensation that coiled low in his gut, muscles spasming as he fought to keep his hands away from morning erections. It will pass, he thought. Perhaps this was merely a side effect as his undead body struggled to adjust to the laws of the supernatural.
Only three days in, he gave in. The touch of his own fingers wrapped around his weeping cock felt euphoric, serving as a momentary relief, for his body ached and buzzed with crackling lust, a gluttonous chasm with no sense of limitation. Daniel kept at it for approximately three hours before a warm glow of satisfaction settled into his skin, only a temporary reprieve. Soon enough, the use of his own hand would not be nearly enough, but that was a problem for the future version of himself.
There were only so many issues he could tackle at once.
And because he grew bored (the preface of an excuse- Daniel was in desperate need of an immediate distraction) of being holed up in his apartment in New York for the most part, he published the interview, and within no more than two weeks, he hit the headlines. His name was being paraded and advertised in every bulletin and news channel. This newfound fame was as exhilarating as terrifying. He went from being a washed-up journalist to a first headliner. Well, for fiction, that is. The public held a sort of reverence for the fictional world portrayed in the book, but a select few knew otherwise. Of course, there was certain backlash and criticism on his writing- inevitable and to be expected. The recent attention from the cryptic world of the occult, however, was… dangerous, to say the least. Daniel knew of the risks that would follow once he shed light upon the dark corners of their world, but it was a risk he was willing to take. A risk that greeted him with individual messages from each of his daughters, one fine evening, both in accusatory exasperation and concern about his decaying age, thinking he had finally lost it.
Despite his efforts, the secret of his new affiliation did not remain hidden for long. The unavoidable talk with Louis and Louis' classic tale of self-flagellation when he learned the dealings of his spontaneous departure, brought on by Armand's justified wrath.
I'm sorry, Daniel. If I had suspected that even for a second-
Daniel had cut him off with a harsh burst of laughter. But you didn't care enough to think, did you? Not when the sea posed as the sole means of separation from your beloved Maker. You honestly believed that leaving me in the ruins of your house with nothing more than a measly threat would somehow stop him? Please. He had scoffed, but the rage inside him shriveled, leaving behind a raw emptiness. When has he ever listened to anyone else but the calling of his own narcissistic greed?
He tried not to think about Armand, though he failed more often than not. There was a silent, irrevocable rule established in the four walls of his apartment; the outright evasion of that presence altogether. Daniel had allowed himself to seethe in righteous fury as he was bestowed with the Dark Gift despite the peace made with the flickering and dwindling flames of his life. Death was a soothing lullaby, the absolution of sins he had to carry for nearly 70 miserable years. Death was welcoming. His only hope was that when the time came for him, it would find him quietly, loving, a final caress of rest.
Rest. Shh. Rest, now.
But this time around, he was stripped of the one last thing that was entirely, wholly his. Armand took everything from him, remaking him into his image as a last act of vindictiveness before forsaking Daniel. And sure, he could walk out into the sun at any possible moment, but it didn't matter anymore. Perhaps he didn't have the guts to do that, either.
Thus, he suffered. He suffered and persevered and thrived just to spite the asshole that was his Maker.
Hunting was becoming easier by the day, learning from his mistakes firsthand, growing confident and bolder each passing day. Each night, he awoke with an aching hunger that never seemed to wane, forcing himself out of his bed for another meal that would only leave him longing for something more. Despite Louis' unsolicited advice to replace his bed with a coffin, claiming it would greatly improve the quality of his sleep (it's only a matter of familiarization, Daniel. I only want what is best for you), Daniel's bullheadedness prevailed. There was no way he was sleeping in any kind of freaky coffin; his usual bed served its purpose just fine, thank you very much. The only use of a coffin would be when he'd be shipped off in one, six feet under.
Once he was dressed, he put on his glasses with tinted lenses to hide the detestable amber in his eyes. Daniel bent down to tie up his boots when three knocks reached his ears, his fingers going rigid on the first knot. He straightened up and slowly inched towards his front door. The heartbeat on the other side of the door was calm and steady. Human. His gums ached with the descent of his fangs, his instincts to ensnare and devour threatening to dominate his senses. It had taken him almost three weeks to finally get a semblance of restraint and stop himself from taking too much blood, then forced to dispose of the lifeless, limp bodies in his arms. He had already taken one too many lives, the guilt of the power trip eating him from the inside out.
"Hey," he greeted with a quirk of a disarming smile once he opened the door, eyes raking over the man's USPS uniform. "Isn't it kind of late for mail?"
"Good evening. I am here to serve as today's refreshment."
He scowled, peering over the man's shoulder, thinking this was some sort of joke. "Refreshment? What- hey!" As if in a trance, the man ignored him as he stepped through the threshold and into his apartment, though Daniel was quick in snatching his wrist to hold him back. Prodding against his memories revealed nothing, which was exactly what immediately set him on edge. The man's mind was nothing but a heavy, murky fog. His fingers tightened, claws digging and cutting into skin when the man suddenly tilted his head to the side, bearing his neck in display.
Daniel froze, blinking with a moment's bewilderment before realization sank in, a surging tide of fury in tow. He supposed this was Louis' subtlety in informing him kindly that he didn't yet trust Daniel to hunt prey completely on his own without any regrettable accidents.
A 69-year-old human turned vampire treated like a helpless child. What a joke.
He had half a mind to drag the nameless man and kick him out into the street, only to immaturely flash him the middle finger to further drive his point, but something prevented him from doing so. While this gesture was uncalled for, was he truly about to drive out an easy meal offered on a silver platter? Daniel eased on his grip, eyes darting on the oozing blood along the half-crescent incisions around the boy's wrist from his claws, watching with transfixed thirst. With a dragged-out exhale, he reached up to grasp the boy's chin and ducked his head, nose bumping over the slope of exposed neck. He sank his teeth into the boy's throat, considerate and careful, whilst the warm sweetness burst onto his mouth. The body in his arms kept unnaturally still, the slight tightness in breaths posing as the only signs of life. It was unsettling, to say the least. Daniel had grown accustomed to the initial struggle gradually receding when bled of their vital force.
The heat trickled down his esophagus, lighting up his insides with liquid fire. He shifted and plastered himself closer to the boy, arms coming around him in a lock. He drank mouthful after mouthful, the freshness of blood settling in his stomach. Each time, the blooming taste on his tongue rippled down his spine like electricity, gripping him wholly, a slave to his baser instincts. A muffled sound came from the back of his throat, his jaw locking, sinking further into-
Enough.
He gasped, eyes flying wide open. Once the haze lifted from his brain, Daniel wrenched himself away, taking several steps back in the process. He watched as the boy crumbled to the floor, gaunt and pale, the open wound on the side of his neck bleeding with two beads of crimson. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the shuddering echo violently infesting his mind, that haunting voice, familiar and dreadful, as he bristled at the pathetic configurations of his vulnerability. He despised this bond, this tether- these chains wrapped stiffly around his neck like a noose.
Daniel's eyes darted over the shallow wheezes that fell out of the boy's lips, his pulse weak but steady. This one would live. He dragged a hand over his face, a second of stillness before he moved to kneel down, hooking both arms beneath the boy to lift him. He was careful in setting the body on a bench about four blocks away from his apartment, lingering in the shadows and staying vigilant until the first person took notice of the boy. Soon, a crowd of four surrounded him. He turned, heading for the opposite direction, when a whisper of a phantom touch skirted over his peripheral. He surveyed the area with wary sharpness, peering beyond the flock of people and the tangible world around them.
After ten seconds, Daniel resumed his path back to his apartment.
The offerings kept coming. Every two days, as if on clockwork, a nameless woman or man would appear on his doorstep, their most recent memories infused with a cloud of obscurity. At first, he huffed and puffed, deeming it unnecessary and a hassle, as if he was being inconvenienced, though Daniel soon found himself begrudingly accepting each meal. Since Louis felt so philanthropic in his display of apology, who was he to deny any of it? Whether it was out of guilt or the goodness of his heart, Daniel wouldn't refuse a gift-wrapped snack. He supposed it was the least Louis could do after everything.
However, Louis' work of charity soon attracted a band of unwanted attention that he had been hoping to avoid as much as possible. If one knew where to look, it was only natural that the repeated patterns wouldn't go by unnoticed for long. To the average human eye, this back-and-forth transaction was overlooked. He smiled at one of his neighbours once as their thoughts rang inside his own. It was either this guy must have a spending problem, or something along the lines of this creepy old grandpa must be drowning in money and loneliness to be paying off hookers so frequently. Perhaps he was among the hushed talk and gossip of the neighbourhood, but at the end of the day, none of them truly cared.
On the other hand, the Old World with its pesky little outdated Ancient Rules cared a tad too much, in his opinion. To each their own, he wasn't looking for trouble (alright, maybe he would have to run through that thought again), and yet trouble had a knack for seeking him out.
Daniel began to take notice of the amorphous eyes only after the third victim walked up to his porch. They, whoever they were, could have been watching him for longer than he realized, longer than he felt comfortable admitting to. It served as a glaring sign that his instincts were slipping, that he was allowing himself to grow soft and careless in his dealings. Complacency treaded into the dangerous territory of foolish arrogance. If he were neglectful enough, his stupidity would come to bite him in the ass in the form of his head being ripped clean off his shoulders. He argued that they didn't want him dead, not as of yet. Surely, if it was simply his death they craved, nothing was stopping them from swarming his apartment and murdering him in his sleep.
They wanted something from him, and Daniel was inclined to know. But first, he needed to take some of the attention off himself before it drew more than he could handle. To make matters worse, he had been burdened with the hindrance of moving places sooner or later if he wanted to keep some semblance of privacy and security.
Daniel pulled out his phone from his front pocket and pressed it against his ear as he maneuvered through the hustling streets of New York. "Louis. Currently calling Mister Louis du Lac, I'd better not be put on hold."
Daniel, came Louis' voice in the walls of his mind, as pleasantly mellow as ever. To what do I owe the pleasure?
"What, I can't phone a friend to see how they've been?"
Of course you can, and I am always happy to hear from you. Daniel snorted, glancing over his shoulder with a grin as he bumped into a middle-aged woman, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement as she stormed away.
"Hah. As if you can refuse. I assume the guilt would get too much even for you- but then again, you live for that shit, don't you? It's become second nature by now."
Be careful there, Daniel. My appreciation for you does not tolerate insolence. He clutched his phone tighter at the refined authority in Louis' tone, but the smile of amusement that widened on his mouth was genuine, keen on the underlying teasing behind his words.
I've been fine, if you must know. Now, what is it you want from me?
"Yeah, about that. Look, I've been enjoying your gifts, but I'm afraid you'll have to tone down your hospitality for the time being-" a flash of amber, the identical likeness of his own reflection in the mirror staring back at him.
Daniel skidded abruptly to a halt, nearly tripping over his own feet. The person from behind smacked against his back, a hand jerking at his shoulder two seconds later when he didn't budge, fisting around his leather jacket. He blinked, his eyes flitting down to a face of distorted and blurry features, insignificant. Worthless. The onslaught of curses spat at his face was nothing more than static, a mildly irritating buzzing, hardly holding much worth of attention.
He whipped his head up, eyes frantically scanning through the rushing mob. He pretended not to feel disappointed when he didn't find what he was looking for.
Daniel? Daniel, what's wrong? I can feel your heartbeat racing.
"Nothing. It's nothing." He said with a shuddering exhale. The stranger screwed up his face, leveling Daniel with a look of pity before shoving him away. His arm lay limply by his side, phone loosely held in his grasp. "Uh, listen, back to what I was saying. I appreciate the gesture, but you don't need to hand-deliver me meals anymore, if you catch my drift."
What are you talking about? Are you certain you're alright? I'm afraid you're not making much sense.
He picked up the pace, switching the phone to the other hand, lifting it up. "C'mon man, don't act like you forgot all of a sudden. All those people you've been sending over to my place since you apparently think I'm inept and can't hunt for myself? Does that ring any bells? 'Cause I've ended up on the radius of some… not so enthusiastic admirers, thanks to your generosity. Not that I'm complaining, but, y'know. If it could be avoided-"
Hey, hey, slow down. Listen to me. The people you say you've been receiving… that is not my doing.
"Excuse me?"
Daniel, I wouldn't know where to find you since I don't know the exact location of your apartment.
Since his turning, there were a lot of bodily functions and reactions that he could not experience, yet the churning in his gut, an invisible force driving into his chest, the collapse of his ribcage, cracked bones and splinters piercing through his lungs, the first signs of blind panic settling in as he tried to regulate the intake of oxygen he no longer required- it all came crashing down on him at the appalling realization born from Louis' remark.
"I- I have to go. I'll see you around."
Wait, Daniel-
Louis' voice faded into the distant background, the clamoring crescendo of a frightful, hysterical rage blinding his vision. There were no assumptions to be drawn because he knew there was solely one who would bother to commit himself to- to whatever this was supposed to be. A self-imposed reparation? An insult, an outright mockery of the bond between Maker and fledgling, pertaining to the illusion of a Maker's duty. Armand willfully discarded any claim to such privilege when he renounced Daniel at the marbled ruins in Dubai.
Worst of all, without any sense of skepticism, believing it a gesture from Louis, he had accepted every single human sent his way. He willingly put himself on his back, belly up, and permitted himself to be spoonfed by the very fingers of Him.
Suddenly, the mysterious eyes that had been following him around for months finally took a familiar shape, the missing pieces coming together to form a full, clear picture. It was nearly eight months ago that Daniel had been made and discarded. Perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that Dubai would be their last encounter, believing himself free of his Maker's disposition. There had been no reason to think otherwise since Armand was a creature driven purely by a selfish agenda. What other interest lay in Daniel but residual malice? Despite the farcical facade of self-disciplined harmony, Armand preferred to present himself in a docile manner. Armand was, without question, an apex predator. A lethal threat concealed in a veil of satin, lavish yet modest. Pliable and meek under false pretenses. The subtle art of manipulation told through the lenses of obedience. Armand acted as the unreliable narrator in his own tragedy, the ruthless author pulling and plucking at the strings of the pawns, and from the looks of it, Daniel had become the next puppet in line.
It was time for his dear creator to step onto the stage. He expected that attempting to come into contact with Armand and finding him would put the labours of Hercules to shame, though he had no interest in chasing after his Maker to paint the image of a wounded and desperate fledgling. No, Armand would sooner or later answer for his audacious conduct, but there was no need for Daniel to move a single finger. One way or another, his Maker would come crawling to him. He would make sure of that.
Of course, the bodies kept showing up religiously. And in return, Daniel routinely dismissed every single one. It was definitely a hassle, for he mourned the perfectly good and easily accessible meal presented for him and instead stepped out to prowl the night. Honestly, he had missed the thrill of the hunt. The swell of bloodthirsty instincts, followed by the inevitable stalk of prey, the momentary flash of induced fear before the capture, before the savory taste of fresh blood entering his bloodstream. The whole ordeal was primal, animalistic in its nature, leaving Daniel more often than not aching with a different kind of hunger low in his belly.
He might have been put in a disadvantageous position, but the wait was worth it when Daniel felt a hint of flashing red intensity oozing from the other end of the bond at the 13th turned down offer, a connection that had remained stagnant and bleak up until this point. He sure as fuck had no idea why Armand would even bother, but his repeated rejection seemed to affect him, for some reason. Good, he thought. If that asshole was craving some sort of power play and serviced obedience over their shared bond, he had chosen the wrong human for that.
And really, what better way to take it up a notch with a huge, glaring fuck you than to seek out the dangers of the Old World? Clearly, Armand didn't give a shit about anything that didn't directly concern him, but he wanted Daniel alive for a reason. Tonight, he was going to test just how far those ambitions could go.
He had done his dutiful research. Louis was ever so kind to have already warned him away from particular places in New York that must be avoided at all costs, more so for a young fledgling like himself- especially for him. His actions caused several grievances in their world, flaunting their secrets for the hall of fame. It was a retaliation cultivated by a temper tantrum, mostly, though it served immensely for investing in trust funds. He was an immortal creature now; he needed to play smart about securing his future, eternal wealth. Besides, he wasn't about to hog all of his earnings. The success of his interviews worked in his favor as he wired a couple of million dollars to each of his daughters' savings accounts. He might have been a sorry excuse of a father who didn't think to give a shit about his family, but he could ensure financial stability for their future and their respective families, at least. Paying off their student loans, their mortgage, and the children's college tuitions was a solid way to have a comeback from being a deadbeat father, right?
Daniel strolled down the lit boulevard, blending with the tireless nightlife. He made a turn to cross the street, entering deeper into the red-light district. The obnoxiously loud music pulsed inside his body as he made a beeline for the Crimson Desire, a notoriously known club where vampires frequented.
Once he was allowed entrance by the bouncer, stepping foot through the threshold, he was hit with the acute aroma of sweat, tobacco, and blood. He took off his tinted glasses, hooking them on the collar of his shirt since there was no need for them in here. As he made his way to the bar, drifting through a horde of rutting bodies, he couldn't help but notice the bold displays of feeding, pairs of vampires and humans scattered around the area; a sensual ritual upon the dance floor or against dark corners. Daniel had had his fair share of fun during his youth, but this was certainly a sight to behold.
Unsurprisingly, several pairs of eyes shifted in his direction; some filled with reprehensive aversion, some others in open curiosity, while certain ones with gleeful recognition. It was much too overwhelming even for someone like himself to tune out the blasting music to eavesdrop on hushed conversations, yet there was no need to. He could tell from the tension that followed his every step, counting on the fast-traveling word.
"What can I fix you up with?" The bartender asked, shouting over the loud noise as Daniel came to take an empty seat near his post.
"I'll have a wet martini, thank you."
The woman grinned, human from the looks of it, and tapped the bar twice. "Coming right up."
He shifted in his chair to be half-facing the crowd, eyes scanning over the packed area. It was a neat little place with its certain perks. Although such a stimulating atmosphere wasn't his first choice nowadays, preferring to settle at a bar, this wasn't all that bad. He'd heard rumours about this joint operating as a usual club on the ground floor and as a bondage club on the lower floor with numerous rooms, both for private and public shows. There was a nagging curiosity that hungered to learn how the logistics operated, if there were exceptional rules to this sort of agreement because of the involvement of vampires. He assumed as much.
Daniel accepted his beverage with a quick smile before taking a small sip, letting the crisp sweetness linger on his tongue. Perhaps he could leave the exploring for a later date.
"You waitin' on someone?"
He slid his eyes to his right, giving the young man a subtle once-over. Short, unruly bangs. A lithe build, yet tall. He looked young, no more than twenty-five, though Daniel sensed he was the youngest among them in this club tonight. His oversized clothes hung on his frame, a shrewd smile and clever eyes of a striking blue boring into him.
"Not really," he said, tapping his finger against the rim of his martini. "Are you offering to keep this sad old man some company? Don't know if I'm what you're looking for."
"Can't I be the judge of that?" Daniel watched as the other leaned closer, his hand barely touching his own on the bar. "I'm Miles." The man introduced himself, his smile not once faltering.
"And you are…?"
He snorted. It was cute, really, this whole pretend Miles was trying to uphold, but the half-assed barrier around his mind betrayed him. Not only did Miles know him, but his fellow kin had been doing their own obsessive investigation on Daniel and his questionable career path since the recent release of the book. And oh boy, was the blood in the boy's veins pumping with poorly restrained hostility. Someone was definitely not thrilled with Daniel's blasphemous existence.
Bingo.
"Daniel." He flashed a smile of his own, the tips of his sharpened fangs peeking through. "But you already knew that, don't you, Miles?"
Miles' shoulders tensed, the smile freezing on his face. He didn't even have to pry into the boy's mind; he could already feel the clumsy walls being built back in place, a pathetic attempt at salvaging his plan of approach.
"Relax, kid, I'm only messing with you. It's no lie that I get a lot of publicity these days. So," he lifted the martini to his lips, peering with half-lidded eyes over the rim of the glass. "What do you wanna know? I'll be more than happy to share all the grimy, depraved details."
He indulged Miles for the following thirty minutes or so, playing along in this charade of enthusiasm. After all, he was in no hurry. He welcomed the straying touches upon his knee as they talked, fingers slipping closer to the inner of his thigh with a teasing claw applying pressure against his jeans. A tolerant laugh, eyes lighting up with false passion. He went along with Miles' flow to set down the foundations of a measly trust before agreeing to follow him back to his supposed place. He'd let Miles rough him up and then endure the tedious rant on the conformity and submission to the Ancient Rules. Maybe a little more roughing up as a closing scene, make it look like he'd be in real trouble-
Droplets from a broken pipe fell against a trash can in the alleyway, a rhythmic sound. Daniel froze in his tracks with Miles four steps ahead when he sensed the presence of multiple vampires inching closer from the shadows. One, two, three, four. With Miles, the numbers added up to five in total.
Well, fuck me, he thought with a sense of impending doom. He glanced at Miles and his taunting smirk, triumph radiating off him in waves. With a sharp exhale out of his nostrils, Daniel plastered on a strained smile, lifting his hands palms-up. Ringing up Louis to yank his lame ass out of the fire would do jackshit right now since he was all the way out to Dubai, still. Hell, he probably was asleep at this hour of the day. Was it eight? Nine hours of time difference? Hence, making it 11am on a Friday.
"Cornering a senile, helpless man at my old age? Not exactly fair, is it?"
"Fair!" Another vampire hissed at him, one with her flaming red hair tied up in a spiky bun and wacky make-up. "Quite the hypocrite. Was it fair when you exposed our world to the eyes of mortals? When you desecrated our Ancient Rules and spat on the millennia of our disciplined seclusion? Tell me, Daniel Molloy, is it going to be fair when I rip the idiotic head off your shoulders and feast on your flesh?"
"Well. When you put it like that, I suppose not." He took account of each presence, prowling and circling him like ravenous vultures. His best fighting chance wasn't a fighting chance at all, not when he was this much outnumbered. Daniel's odds at coming out of his encounter alive were to run for his goddamn life and hope that he was somehow fast enough to lose them. If he wasn't agile enough to lay low, he would need to hold out long enough until the first hints of sunrise…
Essentially, he was fucked in every possible way.
He lazily shifted around, doing a quick evaluation in his head. "Is there no chance we could hash out this issue like six civilised vampires? I'm sure there's something I can offer in return for-"
"We don't want your filthy money. We'll only be satisfied when your blood is painting the heels beneath our boots." The oldest-looking vampire of the group on his right spat at him, lips pulled back in a snarl to bare their fangs. "You and that other friend of yours in Dubai. After we're done with you, we're gonna pay him a little visit."
He tilted his head, shifting his stance ever so slightly. "Awfully long way from New York, don't you think? Y'know, I could hook you up with some first-class tickets. None of that low-par economy shit. Trust me, you do not want to fly in economy for a ten-hour flight."
The same vampire scoffed, raising their head to look down on him. "How long do you think you'll be able to hide behind your foolish jokes?"
"I'm trying to think of another smart-liner, but it seems like I'm all out, so- right about now?"
He shot off the ground and threw his entire weight at the spiky-bun girl, managing to catch her off guard. The rest moved only seconds later in retaliation, making a grab at him. Daniel wrenched the girl's arm behind her shoulder, effectively dislocating it, and used her as a shield, shoving her forward to her buddies.
Then, he made a run for it.
Taking his usual route to his apartment was out of the question. The last thing they needed to know was where he lived (if he came out alive to tell the tale). On that account, he needed to get himself into a crowded area as soon as possible. He could only hope they still abided by their stupid Rules, thus making it nearly impossible to outright attack him out in the spotlight of the public eye.
Unfortunately for his plans, Daniel was intercepted only a minute later and slammed against the wall to his left with a packing kick to his head.
"This is the thing with you Americans." Miles' voice came from behind him. He ducked under a swipe of claws and struck with his own, catching the boy in his midsection, effectively slashing through clothes and skin. He was about to push away when a hand caught his curls in a fist and smashed his head on the wall. The one-second disorientation was enough to seal his fate.
He was shoved on the nasty, wet ground, an added weight on his back pinning him in place. The scent of blood filled his nostrils -his own- he realized with rising panic. Daniel bucked his hips, struggling to throw off the body from behind. When that didn't seem to work, eliciting a cruel bark of laughter, he tried to twist on his back, blindly swatting with his claws. His pathetic attempts at escape were graced with his arms held down on his back, a hand buried once more through his hair, a painful grip on his roots.
His head was lifted and viciously slammed on the concrete. Again, and again, and again. By the time the fingers loosened their hold, his head falling limply in a poodle of his own blood and filth, Daniel could barely see.
"You think you're so above it all with your clever mouth." Miles chuckled against the back of his neck, sharp fangs dragging up a path of slits on his skin. Daniel's pained groan was stifled by the three stray fingers that shoved through his lips, pinching down on his tongue. "I'd like to see your wit now. C'mon, old man, don't leave me hanging."
A foot jabbed at his head. "I fail to see what's so great about him. Just look at him; gross, fat, decrepit. Look at all that wrinkled skin around his face. Ugh. Does his cock even work?"
The insults hurt, but it wasn't something he hadn't already thought about himself ten times over. However, the reminder of the perception of his appearance cut him deeper than he would have liked to admit. Most times, he pretended not to care about such pointless matters. Most times, he couldn't find the time to give a shit, really. That didn't mean they stopped being true.
A sharp inhale, followed by a contemplative hum from above him. "How about we test it out?"
"No." He protested, but his words came out muffled and gargled from the fingers wiggling around in his mouth. "Don't you fucking dare put your hands on me!"
The shape of Miles' giddy grin burned against his left ear. "Hmm, too late. You had your chance. Now, stop struggling, unless you want me to fucking rip your limbs off, starting with your arms."
Jeering, stabbing laughter knocked around in his head, a swarm of hands slicing and tearing at his clothes and flesh, fondling at his chest and feeling up his thighs, closing around his flaccid dick over his underwear. Death will come for him, but not without the taste of utter, unmanning humiliation. This was the product of his own arrogant idiocy. There was no one else to blame but himself, he knew that, yet in his final moments of anticipatory assault, he couldn't help but think in miserable bitterness-
This is all His fault. If it weren't for Him, if He hadn't turned me, if He had only just killed me, I wouldn't be in this situation right now-
And it was laughably pathetic, really, that his final moments would be spent thinking about Armand. He had the urge to cry. He had the urge to laugh hysterically. Daniel did neither. Instead, in his last moments of lucidity, he drowned in the absence of Armand, his muted pleas yearning for a Maker that never wanted him in the first place-
Silence. A constant static, the sound of a perpetually roaming insect. He inhaled and exhaled; deep, shaky breaths. His vision was nearly blacked out, his face and the remains of his clothes soaked in his own blood. Daniel thought he had forgotten how a headache felt, but this- the nauseating throbbing, a raw hammering pulsing in his ears, caused by the open, swollen wound on his forehead. This felt like the onset of a tireless migraine. He noticed, then, that the weight of bodies had disappeared from his back. Hands planted against the concrete, he battled against the leaden burden of his body, sluggishly -vainly- struggling to push himself up.
And then, amid the silence, he heard it. Screams. Pitiful, strangled moans, followed by the grotesque noises of wet grinding and snapping and breaking. He didn't know what was happening. He didn't want to know. Daniel had lost far too much blood to continue testing his luck. Therefore, through the nebula of hurt and quivering frailty, he forced himself up with a wounded cry, clumsily stumbling towards the nearest wall to support his legs.
His heart spiked when he sensed a presence heading straight for him, getting closer and closer with each resounding thud. He stiffened, huddling against the wall in an attempt to shield his aching body from his state of undress.
When he felt a hand upon his shoulder, Daniel violently recoiled, the weakness in his squirming limbs only delaying the inevitable. He turned, barely grasping the dark, looming silhouette under the dim lights of the alleyway. His lips parted with the plea sitting at the tip of his tongue, yet he remained stubborn when he shouldn't, not wanting to grant those assholes the satisfaction of his defeat.
"You're not to touch him. Do you understand?" Louis' voice was level, nothing more than a strained warning. Despite his disciplined demeanor, the raw venom in his eyes betrayed the dark pit of repulsed malice. The lines of his body were tense, trembling with the tragic understanding of a life wasted. "You harm him in any way, I will kill you. Do you understand? I'm leaving now. When I return, you need to be gone."
The dust from the debris slowly cleared, revealing a ten-inch crater in the wall. The impenetrable fortress of the Vampire Armand was brought to ruin, the untouchable armor of fearsome regalia now tainted with grit and renunciation. Cuts marred the perfection of his skin along the left side of his brow, gashes of blood reaching his cheek. Broken and forsaken, his body lay limply on the wreckage of his own making, head lolling to the side. Then, he looked up, up, the once bright amber now dulled into ghastly, faded rust. The hollowness resembled the foul windows of a haunted house looming in the distance.
Pathetic asshole, Daniel thought scornfully, staring down at the brewing misery in Armand's helpless form. A twitch, a tightness along the sharpness of his jaw. A keen flash of emotion. Daniel blinked; any traces of it were gone.
Louis walked past as if 77 years meant nothing more than the dirt beneath his shoes. Daniel followed. No more than two minutes later, the penthouse sank into a prophetic silence of bleakness. In hindsight, he should have left everything behind and run as far as his feeble legs could take him. Instead, he foolishly packed his messenger back as the laptop burned on the table, the tremors in his hands getting worse by the second. He grabbed and struggled with the scattered documents, beads of sweat rolling down his temples, his glasses fogging up.
He couldn't blame Louis for wanting to escape the gilded cage in which he was held captive for nearly a century, but he blamed Louis for leaving him vulnerable when an apex predator had been rightfully wronged.
He clutched tightly onto his messenger's back, surging up the three stairs to follow Louis' route when the soft steps of his sealed fate reached his ears from behind. He faltered and closed his eyes for a sacred moment, petulantly refusing to acknowledge what was about to befall him. Daniel slowly turned to find Armand standing deathly still across the hall, a chill of impending doom wracking down his spine as he found himself under the paralyzing intensity of eyes blighted by necrosis.
He couldn't help but wonder if there was any mercy left -if there was any at all to begin with- in the creature before him to grant Daniel a quick death.
"Do you believe yourself deserving of a quick, painless death, Mr. Molloy?"
"Probably not." He said, shrugging a shoulder. A mask of composure was entirely useless when they both knew that his heart was hammering frantically against his ribcage. If he was going to take his last breath under this roof, he would do so with dignity. "But I think I'd like that. Maybe throw in a little kiss on the head before you rip it clean off my shoulders, yeah?"
"I will give you death." He began to back away as Armand menancingly advanced forward; slow and unhurried, a riled beast that stalked its cornered prey, knowing that any chances of escape had been snuffed out.
Daniel stumbled, scrambling to catch himself as the bag fell out of his hands. His back hit the wall, having nowhere else to go. His eyes darted, breath coming out in wheezing gasps. Peering at the front door at the end of the hallway to his left, the dormant instincts of survival surged to life. He turned, pushing off the wall in a desperate attempt to reach salvation. He was allowed the illusion of hope for three steps before he was slammed roughly onto the floor. Daniel put out his hands at the last second, though hardly cushioning the fall as his forehead smacked against the marbled tiles.
Dark spots burst at the corners of his vision, his head swimming with nausea. He put out an arm, a vain struggle as he tried to weakly crawl away. He let out a strangled sound when claws snatched his ankle, slicing through skin. He was dragged back, a lumbering beast mounting him, pinning him on the floor like meat. A cruel grip found his neck, fingers flexing and squeezing and crushing his windpipe, feeling his bones grinding. Daniel was suspended there in a prolonged torment, futilely scratching at Armand's unyielding noose.
"I will give you death, foolish boy," Armand repeated in emphasis, hissing the words against his ear. "And then, you shall join me in eternity."
When those words stabbed into his mind, he recoiled, a heavy feeling dropping in his gut at the creeping realization.
"No," he croaked, but it was far too late. "Don't- don't you dare-"
His humanity was taken on the hard, cold floor, his rebirth made with unbridled desire for annihilation. Fangs cleaved through flesh, feasting on the miserable, white-hot panic of his spasming body. Daniel was brought to the edge of yearned-for serenity. His senses had dulled to nothingness. Then, he began to weep as the source of life was forced upon his open, waiting mouth, cradled with tender anguish like a newborn at his first hour of nourishment.
The whispers of violence would trail in tow to haunt his every moment.
However, the touch remained light on his shoulder. Patient and passive. His body locked in place, his fight-or-flight instincts ebbing away for just a split second. Then, the hand was lifted off his shoulders, coming to rest instead on the back of his neck. A gesture of inherent intimidation, weirdly enough, it felt anything but. The palm felt warm, grounding, and- soaked? That was probably just his own blood. A bystander, perhaps, who heard of the commotion and decided to step in. But it couldn't be, he thought. If they were human, the coven would have ripped them to shreds, and yet the vampires had just- left him.
He strained his neck, leaning closer to the soothing presence. It was the sound of a voice, dampened as if Daniel were underwater, and someone was trying to guide him above the surface. The barest brush of lips against his temples, the palm on his nape firm.
"Rest."
Oh, he thought. Immediately, a reaction of instinct, his body yielded to that voice, to the velvet anchor, a sense of security that felt right. With a small tug, he collapsed onto waiting arms, finding shelter against a shoulder.
"What an infuriating boy you are. What shall I ever do with you?"
Unfortunately for him, Daniel was neither coherent nor entirely sane to make sense of the musing whisper. No more than a few seconds later, his eyes were rolling into the back of his head, losing the ability to remain connected with the present world.
What followed, he caught in delirious glimpses. His head lolling against a solid chest, arms carrying his battered and bruised body. The softness upon something of which he was carefully laid upon, the shushing at his distressed sound when the presence stripped him of their warmth.
Then, darkness.
It wasn't a matter of regaining consciousness, but more of the sense of self as Daniel groggily blinked his eyes open. He could feel the lingering whispers of soreness in his body, yet there was a pleasant glow -a thirst quenched- settled underneath his skin and into his veins as if he had recently fed. His mind floated, not entirely in the material boundaries of his body. An uncontrollable spasm of his muscles, eyes darting over the shadows on the ceiling, recognizing the tangling, busted pendant light in his bedroom. He had difficulty breathing, he realized, but the pressure on his chest wasn't necessarily somatic. Even though there was no need for the intake of oxygen anymore for survival, the air around him felt scarce, an oppressive force, its eyes tracking his every twitch.
He knew he went out last night, but he would have remembered if he stumbled upon a junkie to feed from-
His body seized with the phantom pain of recollection as memories flooded his mind. The club, the kid -Miles- who lured him out into the night. The coven. By all means, Daniel had been as good as dead. He should have died in that dreary alley, and yet he didn't. He pushed himself into a sitting position and furiously rubbed a hand over his face, agitation spurred on by this state of disorientation. Someone must have stepped in, another vampire, but who? Unless the cover members started turning on against each other, which was highly unlikely, there was no other plausible explanation.
He knocked his feet off the side of the bed and stood up, meaning to walk into the living room. The sight of Armand seated in the armchair by the bedroom door jerked him to a full stop. Daniel's body tensed, instincts warping into a lump of panicked shock. The night had not yet passed, and the faint lights from the world outside of his apartment trickled through the windows, casting shadows over his elegant form.
Smoldering eyes of amber, the twin soul of his own, boring into him in eerie silence. Armand's posture was assertive, yet composed, his right leg hooked over the other, a hand on his lap while the other was set upon the armrest. In the unsettling quiet, the sound of his sharpened claw tapping in a continuous pattern against the wood revealed the only sign of imperfection. Adorned in pleated pants of faded burgundy and an open-buttoned black shirt, merely two pieces of clothing were needed to look untouchable. A premeditated display of power, because of course everything had to be a game of dynamics when it came to him. Daniel was reminded of the sheer irritation the mere sight of him brought, the bitterness, and everything that followed as a wave of emotions crashed against him.
However, his presence helped in connecting all the remaining puzzle pieces, making him Daniel's apparent savior for the night. The word left a sour taste in his mouth. Although his plans didn't go according to his initial expectations, the end product was still the same. Confirming his suspicions, he was worthy of Armand's attention only when his life was in fatal risk. He supposed he should feel blessed to be bestowed with his Maker's selective act of concern.
Worst of all, with a stark thought, he noted the new set of clothes he was dressed in, his previous, tattered outfit nowhere in sight. The act of Armand tending to him and changing his clothes while weak and vulnerable… it was a thought too intimate to consider.
"I guess I should be thanking you. Is that why you decided to stick around this time around? To hear me express my immense gratitude for stepping in before those vamps turned me into minced meat?" He said as he patted himself down, searching for his phone. When he didn't find it on himself, he glanced over the tangled sheets on his bed.
"Among other things, yes."
He tried not to let the festering resentment show, but Armand was making it extremely challenging for Daniel to stay composed when the vampire had the audacity to sound so unbothered. A game of apathy, then. Fine.
"Okay, let's see. I am forever indebted to your magnanimous act of kindness. How shall I ever repay you, a being of such abundant, selfless altruism as yourself?" He avoided directly acknowledging Armand, though keeping his eyes away from his infuriatingly captivating presence proved difficult.
"Would you have preferred leaving you at their mercy?" Armand's voice rang in his head. He barely suppressed a shiver, feeling as if those words were breathed upon his neck, which was absurd since he knew that he hadn't moved an inch from the armchair.
"Sure, why not. I'd have taken my chances."
"Must I remind you of their malicious intent to have you d-"
He pettily cut in, aimlessly searching through the mess of his nightstand, "Hey, have you seen my phone? I have this streak in Duolingo and I can't miss it. Don't tell me you left it there. That's the least you could have done."
A rustle, the creak of the armchair's wooden legs scraping against the floor. When Armand stood up and loomed closer, Daniel went rigid, fighting against the urge to step back. He was playing with fire, willingly stepping into the burning path. With those glowing eyes piercing the veil of the night, posture coiled with a rumbling tension, the sight before him was terrifying. And it should have frightened him, knowing that no other vampire, no other puny coven posed a greater threat to Daniel than Armand. The remaining fragments of his sanity knew to be cautious, but the hitch in his throat and the tingling along his arms were not.
"I suppose it's comforting that your insolence has not been affected after tonight's foolish stunt."
He scoffed. "So you're telling me that you didn't get my phone. Great. And what's that supposed to mean? Now you want an apology, too? I'm not going to apologize for having some fun, even if it didn't end on good terms. A shame, honestly. I really thought Miles and I were hitting it off."
Nostrils flaring, the amber in those eyes drowning in flames, flashing with something dark and dangerous. Perhaps this was why Armand never bothered to fucking show up for a year, depriving him of the absolute joy in provoking him because it was just so easy.
"An apology for your imprudent actions, as I had to pick up the remains of my fledgling's disregard."
"No, you do not get to fucking call me that." Daniel snapped, unconsciously taking a step forward as he raised his finger. "Not when I didn't want it. Not when you-" He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to get a grasp on his raging emotions before too much was revealed. Armand wasn't worthy of his grief.
"Why didn't you intervene earlier, then? You could have stopped me before I even walked through the front doors of the club. Why didn't you?"
Armand's expression shuttered, the hue of his voice growing pretentiously dull. "You presume I would spend my precious time having you under my supervision."
He chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "Oh, I don't presume, I'm telling you how it fucking is. That's why I did all that shit in the first place! I was looking for trouble to follow me home."
A twitch of the muscle in his jaw, lips pressed tightly in a thin line. A few strained seconds later, he spoke with offensive accusation, "Do you have a death wish?"
"No, not at all. You know what the best part about this is? I did it so I could get your attention- and look, it worked!"
At his confession, a flash of shock accompanied the wild look in Armand's eyes, standing stock-still, the weight of his intensity cleaving through Daniel's chest. And as the words seemed to sink into Armand's mind, he tamed his features into quiet skepticism.
"You hoped I would come for you." Armand slowly said, coming off more of a question than a remark. There was something in the nature of that question that sounded wrong, as if there was expectation- as if he was hopeful.
"Yeah." Daniel closed the remaining space between them and shoved a finger against Armand's chest. "And since you can no longer poke around in my mind, let me make it clear for you. I risked my life doing all of that just so I could have this chance to tell you right here, in your face, to fuck off from my life for good."
Armand's face fell in an instant, transforming into a barren land of corrosive solitude and rot. A graveyard of decaying bodies swarming all at once, all-consuming and vicious. Daniel was entirely too distracted by his act of self-righteous cruelty to notice the alarming signs blaring right in his face.
Ruthlessly, he pressed on.
"Delivering all those humans on my doorstep for months while you never bothered to show your face. A sense of guilt, maybe? But then I thought I was losing my fucking mind because- and I'm sorry, but you? Capable of feeling remorse for the reapings of your actions? You weren't doing this for me, you're doing this for you. You turned me out of vengeful spite 'cause your fucked up marriage of lies was suddenly crumbling under your feet, and you had nothing! And after you effectively fucked all those around you, you scampered away to lick at your wounds like a coward. Who the fuck do you think you are?"
He jabbed at Armand's chest again, razor-sharp fingernail digging through skin. "Don't get the wrong idea. I only ever accepted your most gracious gifts because I thought it was Louis who was trying to help. You mean nothing to me. Nothing. Not seeing your face for another five hundred years would be entirely too soon."
His chest rose and fell with each labored breath. No more than a few inches separated them, oblivious to the narrow space between them up until that point. For all his previous bravado, Daniel's hand trembled against that solid chest, lingering for longer than was safe for his tattered sanity. The depth of Armand's gaze lured him in like a wicked siren, a bottomless abyss whose pull was unassuming yet relentless, unhurriedly dragging him further below the surface, murky waters bleeding through every opening. He feared that if he looked too much, he'd get lost in it.
"You can see yourself out. You know where the door is."
Daniel averted his eyes, meaning to draw his arm to his body and put some much-needed space between them. He was stopped by fingers curling around his retreating wrist, holding him in place. He looked up, instinctively trying to wrest his hand away. Armand denied him the convenient escape, his grip tightening, teetering on the edge of tender pain.
"No," he said quietly as Armand coaxed him closer, straining fruitlessly against that ridiculous strength. "Don't-"
"I allowed you to express your thoughts. Would you like to hear mine?" His heart lurched to his throat as Armand brought Daniel's hand to his face, a rekindled fire piercing into his soul through half-lidded eyes, scorching his skin. Armand skimmed his mouth over the inner side of the wrist, the barest of touches. A ghost of longing indulgence. Then, an inhale; a marking of scent.
He swallowed thickly, brows furrowing. "I don't give a fuck about-"
Within a flash, Daniel was yanked forward, another hand coming up to firmly grasp his chin, forcing his head to the side.
"Time is a merciful lover. I shall enjoy watching you fail in your endeavors to deny yourself the truth. Remember this resentment, Daniel Molloy. See how fast it will get snuffed out before there's nothing left for you to use as a curtain of excuse." The words were spoken heatedly against his left ear as his jaw was cradled in a mockery of tenderness.
"My fledgling. My undoing. How long will you last?"
A hitch, a flutter, and then the restraining weight vanished, leaving Daniel reeling in the deafening silence of his apartment.