Chapter Text
Dubai, 2022
“March, 1975.” Daniel dropped the autobiography at Armand’s feet. “I spent two weeks in ‘Nam covering the tail end of the war.”
“Good morning.”
Armand was still exactly where he’d left him last night. It was oddly comforting, knowing where he was all the time instead of having to deal with him silently slinking around. Daniel thought about pulling up a chair; flipping the dynamic of their first meeting, but in the end he settled for sitting on the floor across from him again.
“Did you sleep well?”
Like hell he did. Despite the bone deep tiredness, he’d spent half the night flipping through the pages of his own books in search of anything that might explain the memories beginning to creep to the front of his mind.
“Yeah. Like a baby. You?”
“Well, I started off looking at real estate values several hours ago, and now, somehow, I’ve ended up on the Wikipedia page for jellyfish.” Armand turned his IPad around to show him. “How can something like that be alive? ” He shook his head, lost in thought for a second before snapping the case shut and looking up again. “Breakfast?”
Daniel stared back at him, too bewildered by whatever the hell that was to respond, and Armand smiled.
“You were saying something about Vietnam?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, right, I… I went there in 1975 for a… work thing.”
“Mm. Your point?”
“My point ,” Daniel said, the brain fog finally lifting. “Is that last night I saw you giving me that necklace, before my flight. That was eighteen months after I interviewed Louis.” He jabbed a finger at the cover of his book, as if that would somehow make his point clearer. “You scrubbed my brain clean, dumped me in a drug den, and then, what? Showed up eighteen months later?”
Armand tilted his head, eyes burning into him.
“What exactly did you remember, Daniel?”
Messy curls. Heat between his legs. ‘I love you desperately’.
“You’re the mind reader, here. You tell me.” He folded his arms, hoping like hell Armand wouldn’t look into his thoughts right now. “You said you’d answer my questions.”
“Yes.” Armand’s eyes were still fixed on his. “So ask them.”
Maybe he should have spent the night preparing for this, instead of flipping through the dog eared pages of his own book like a narcissist on the verge of a breakdown. He considered for a moment.
“Did we meet again? After you John Kramered me for six days in that apartment?”
“Yes.”
Okay, he already knew that one, but hearing it confirmed out loud sent a cold shiver down his spine.
“When?” He paused, and Armand stayed silent, waiting. “ Why? ”
“About twelve weeks after we left you. You sought me out.” His lips curled into a smile. “Well, not me specifically, but… I’m the one you found. For better or worse.”
Sacramento, 1973
After two nights in hospital, thirty days in rehab, and another thirty sitting on the floor of his apartment, blitzed on whatever he’d managed to score that night and going through page after page of missing persons reports across the state, Daniel started going back to the bars. He started with Polynesesian Mary’s, even though he knew that was too obvious, but it was as good a starting point as any. It was surprising how few people seemed to have noticed a handsome stranger with a charismatic smile and eyes like emeralds.
Another missing person, a few towns over. He was cute, around Daniel’s age, according to his parents he’d left to ‘meet some friends’ and never returned. Daniel followed the trail, went from bar to bar, still, nobody had seen the man with emerald eyes. It was like he was chasing a ghost. Chasing the bogeyman. Maybe he was. His memories from that night were fuzzy at best, but the scar on his neck served as a permanent reminder of the teeth sinking into his flesh. The fangs sinking into his flesh.
Vampires were real. And there was no way in hell he was letting that one go.
It was early December when he found him. He was sitting in a bar in Sacramento, nursing a lukewarm Pepsi and debating whether to make the two hour drive home or fork over the rest of his change for a stronger drink and a room for the night. Or maybe two drinks and a nap in his car.
He felt the eyes before he saw them. The creeping sensation washing over him that he was being watched, and when he glanced over his shoulder he saw him sitting at a table in the corner, hazy behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. They weren’t the emerald eyes from his memory. These were amber, as vivid as an open flame. And he knew as soon as he locked eyes with the man exactly what he was. Vampire .
Turning in his seat, he downed the rest of his drink and scrambled to his feet, but when he looked back at the table the man was gone.
“Shit.”
Shouldering his way through a huddle of men and a pair of drag queens, he stumbled out into the street, picked a direction and followed it. He found himself walking down an alleyway, following nothing but pure instinct, and was suddenly aware of how quiet it was. The wind dropped, chatter from the street stopped, even the metronomic dripping of a nearby gutter fell silent.
“What the f-”
Pain shot through him as his back was slammed into the brick wall and fingers closed around his throat.
“It’s a shame you had to be so persistent , Daniel.” The voice in his ear was hauntingly familiar, like the memory of a bad dream. “You might have made an excellent reporter.”
Those amber eyes met his again, burning with a raging intensity, and the memories flooded back so fast it felt like a bucket of ice water being dumped over him. Trapped in the apartment. His body being puppeteered. His mind being leafed through like a magazine.
“You were there,” He choked out, clawing at the vampire’s arm as black dots began to swim in his vision.
“I warned him, you know? I told him you would follow, sniffing us out like a dog. But Louis insisted on letting you go. He spared you from a merciful death, and now here you are, with nothing but the pain to cling to. Shall I thank him for you?”
Louis. That was his name. He remembered his emerald eyes and his charred, blistering skin and his grunts of pain as he struggled towards him. He grabbed hold of the memory, rewound, searching for anything that might divert the vampire’s attention. Louis was shouting something. What was he shouting? A name?
“Ar… Armand.”
The vice around his throat relaxed and air flooded back into his lungs so fast he choked on it. Armand caged him against the wall before he had a chance to move, palms striking the brickwork on each side of his head with enough force to crack it, and leaned in close enough that he could taste the metallic tang of his breath.
“You remember.” His eyes narrowed and his head tilted just slightly. “I took those memories. You shouldn’t remember.”
“Yeah, well it’s… it’s crazy what you can get back when your fucking life flashes before your eyes, Jesus .” He rubbed his neck, knowing it was probably bruised to shit already. That was gonna be fun to explain.
“Interesting.”
“You still gonna kill me?”
“Yes.”
There was a gentleness to his voice now, but there was something sinister about the way Armand was looking at him now. The apex predator was gone, and now he was looking him up and down appraisingly, deciding which spot would be the juiciest. It was unsettlingly human.
“Look, uh, maybe it’s not even gonna be an issue for you, but…” He coughed, rubbing his neck again. “But I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated as shit right now. Gonna be like sucking blood from a stone, you know?”
“Death is staring you in the face and rather than bargain for your life, you bargain for one last drink?”
“I try to stay consistent.”
The corner of Armand’s mouth twitched in amusement, though whether he was laughing with him or at him was anyone’s guess.
“Have you eaten?”
…
Armand led him through the streets, not bothering to keep hold of him or even glance over his shoulder to make sure he was following. His unwavering confidence was exactly why Daniel didn’t bother trying to make a run for it. What was he gonna do? Outrun a vampire? He could barely outrun his eighty year old landlady to the mailbox.
They ended up in a small, secluded little Italian place a few blocks down, with a corner table at the back and a waitress who might have flirted with him if she hadn’t seen the bruises on his neck and quickly looked away. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third order of garlic bread that Armand decided to share that the whole vampires and garlic thing was an urban legend.
“What about a stake through the heart?” He asked, scanning the menu for a pasta option he’d be able to pronounce.
“Myth.”
“Crucifixes?”
“Myth. Though, that one was perpetuated by vampires. Some still believe it.”
“Huh. Silver bullet?”
“That’s werewolves.”
“Do those exist?”
“No.” Armand rolled his eyes. “I really don’t know what Louis saw in you. Even your questions are shallow.”
“All right.” He folded his arms, leaning across the table towards him. “When you kill someone, is it just for food, or do you enjoy it?”
He was expecting another snippy response, but Armand was quiet for a moment while he considered it.
“It’s turned from necessity to obligation to performance to… I don’t know what the modern word would be. Detachment, I suppose. It doesn't feel like killing when the lives you take are so small.”
“That's bullshit.”
Armand cocked an eyebrow and glanced over at the waitress standing by the table, notebook in hand and a flush across her cheeks.
“Oh. Hi.” He looked back down at the menu in his hands while she made a visible effort to avoid looking at him. Armand gave a huff of annoyance.
“Just bring him whatever’s quickest to prepare.”
“Right.” She scribbled something on her notepad and hurried away.
“Pity,” Armand said, turning back to him. “If you’d come here alone she might have fucked you.”
“No shit,” He muttered. “Your pro-murder speeches are really killing the mood.”
“It’s not that.” The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “She thinks I’m paying you for the night.”
“Seriously?” He turned his head in time to catch her staring at the two of them before darting back into the kitchen. “Do I give off that vibe?”
Armand made a point of looking him up and down before shrugging and producing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering them out to him in what was probably more of an instinctive move than any kind of peace offering. Still, Daniel took one, and was midway through fumbling for his lighter when a small spark ignited on its own. The vampire’s eyes flickered as he lit his own cigarette, and Daniel found himself rolling his eyes at the casual display of power.
“So you’ve got super strength, super speed, mind reading, fire... Anything else?”
“You said my detachment from human life was bullshit.”
Okay. Apparently the key to getting this vampire talking was to start an argument with him.
“Yeah, because it is bullshit.” He slouched back in his chair. “I mean, what? You live longer than a human and suddenly it doesn't count as murder anymore?”
“If you stepped on an ant, would you call it murder?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it's a fucking ant . They don't exactly have much going on in their lives.”
“I'm sure the ant would disagree.”
Armand didn't blink once during the exchange, which proved more unsettling than anything else about him.
“So that’s it? We’re like ants to you?” Despite the subject matter, Daniel found himself chuckling. “That sure raises some questions about Louis’ ‘consummate and drain’ approach.”
“Those are his methods, not mine.”
“Right.” He drummed his fingers against the table, trying to think about something other than the small pang of disappointment in his gut.
Armand leaned across the table towards him, chin resting on his hand and an amused glint in his eye.
“Is that what you were hoping for? By following Louis here?” His eyebrows knitted together in thought as he took a drag from his cigarette. “You came all this way in the hopes he’d finally sleep with you?”
“No.” Kinda. “No, that’s not… I wanna know more! You can’t just say ‘hey! vampires are real!’ and expect me to carry on paying rent and working in an office!”
“And that, Mr Molloy, is exactly why I can't let you walk out of here alive.”
A plate of ambiguous looking pasta was dumped unceremoniously in front of him but he ignored it, leaning forward and meeting Armand’s stare. Fine . If he was gonna die tonight, he was gonna die doing what he did best; getting under people's skin.
“What are you so afraid of?”
Armand’s gaze faltered for a fraction of a second and Daniel smirked.
“Y’know, ‘cause if we’re as insignificant as you say, what does it matter if people know about you? We’re not a threat to you.”
“We have laws,” He snipped.
“Uh huh. You got vampire cops too?” He chuckled. “What laws am I breaking? I figure I got a right to know, before my execution.”
“We never reveal our nature to a mortal and allow that mortal to live.”
“Yeah, yeah, I already figured that one out. Anything else?”
“The history of the vampires can never be committed to writing.”
“Cool.” He leaned back and shovelled a forkful of pasta into his mouth. It wasn't great, but it was probably the first thing he’d eaten in several days that could qualify as a ‘meal’. And it was free. “How do you guys know about these laws, by the way?”
“They were written in-” Armand cut himself off, his lips curling into a snarl. “You know, you're nowhere near as clever as you think.”
“Neither are you.” Daniel shrugged, ignoring the white hot anger in the vampire’s eyes and the way his fingers were beginning to leave indents in the cheap plastic table. “And, y’know, it's funny. ‘Cause you're so hung up over what Louis liked about me, but I'm not really getting what he sees in you. I figured maybe you're just a really great lay, but he's even started outsourcing for that. So, what? Do you just do all the really kinky shit he can't ask anyone else for?”
His arm wrenched upwards of its own accord and suddenly the prongs of his fork were less than an inch from his eyeball.
“Okay, clearly hit a nerve there,” He grunted, fighting uselessly to try and move his own fist away from his face.
“I’ve read several stories before of drug fiends clawing their own eyes out in some sort of brain-addled stupor. Apparently so intoxicated they became completely unaware of the pain.”
“I think blinding me with a fork might draw a little more attention than my shitty news articles.”
His fist slammed back onto the table, rousing the attention of what few people were sitting around them. Daniel ignored them, tossing the fork away and massaging his forearm.
“Is being an asshole another one of your laws, or are you like this for kicks?” He muttered, chancing a look up at Armand. His anger seemed to have subsided at least, and he was watching him with almost patronising amusement.
“I do what’s necessary.” Armand sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “But I must admit, you are particularly fun to toy with. You always look so frightened. It'll be a shame to end it.”
“My heart bleeds for you.”
He didn’t say anything else, staring silently into the middle distance while Daniel ate. He tried, unsuccessfully, to spark up another conversation, but the vampire seemed to have lost interest in him entirely. He should probably be thankful. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut long enough he could even slip away unnoticed, but keeping his mouth shut had never been Daniel’s specialty.
“Do I get dessert?” He asked, finally grabbing Armand’s attention again.
“You’re not hungry.”
“How do you- you know what? I don’t even wanna know.” He shook his head. “You used to be human, right? You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten how good chocolate cake is. Hungry or not.”
“I’ve never had it.”
Daniel blinked at him, and it suddenly struck him why Armand seemed so different to Louis. There was a maturity to him. Not in his personality; frankly, he reminded him of an angsty teenager most of the time, but physically . Louis had been animated, still passably human, Armand was unsettlingly still, like something carved from rock.
I don’t know what the modern word would be. Detachment, I suppose.
“How old are you?”
Armand smiled, like he’d been waiting for that particular penny to drop.
“Four hundred and sixty five, give or take a few years.”
“Why give or take?”
“Because I don’t remember.” He shrugged. “The man who sold me told my maker I was fifteen, but he couldn’t have known for sure. It would have been an… educated guess.”
There were so many threads he could pull on in that one sentence alone, but Armand seemed to anticipate him this time, tossing a menu back towards him.
“Order what you want.”
Who the hell was he to refuse?
…
The restaurant was closing up when they finally left, Daniel one tiramisu and two margaritas heavier, and Armand lighting up another cigarette. As he followed the vampire back down neon lit streets, the reality of his impending death started to hit home. Where was he taking him? Somewhere quiet, presumably. Maybe he had an apartment here? Louis said they had a few. Would it be gentle, like last time? Or had he riled him up enough to make a mess? Should he call his mom? For some reason, the main thought that kept returning to him was that he had a deadline on Monday for some trash piece about a new nightclub opening. He hadn’t even started writing it, and now they’d have to get some other schmuck to do it. Hell, he didn’t even want the story, but the idea of someone else taking it was really starting to ramp up his will to live.
He hadn’t even noticed where Armand was leading him until he found himself in a familiar parking lot by the river, standing next to his car.
“So, is this some sort of hostage situation where I drive us out into the middle of nowhere?” He asked, digging into his pocket for his keys. “Or do you have a designated murder warehouse nearby?”
“You’re going to drive home.”
Daniel laughed, maybe a little deliriously. “You’re gonna kill me in my own apartment? Rookie error, man.”
“You’ll be going alone.”
He paused, turning back towards Armand. “So… you’re not gonna kill me?”
“Oh, I am going to kill you, Daniel. And I’m going to enjoy it.” He traced a pointed nail along Daniel’s jaw and tilted his chin up, letting smoke pour out of his mouth as he spoke. “But not tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or next week. Or seven months from now. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I like seeing that look of terrified anticipation on your face.” Armand smiled. “And I want to see how long I can draw it out of you.”
Flicking his cigarette onto the tarmac, Armand pressed a kiss to two fingers and tapped them against Daniel’s lips.
“Drive safe, won’t you?”
And then he was gone, leaving only the scent of cloves and a cold sweat on the back of Daniel’s neck.