Chapter Text

Chapter 11:  It Could be All True

She was gone. She was gone without any warning.

It ignited past pains in me. The past that I was trying so hard not to repeat in this current life of mine. 

Gabrielle and Louis had at least some form of pre-notice. It was bitter, it was ugly - but at least I knew.  Now my new fledgling - whom I’ve afforded the love and vulnerability not even my mother and the love of my life had seen - have abandoned me in a similar fashion with my maker but under the pretense of hopeful positivity - sealed with an ‘I love you’ and the illusion of a shared future.  

My mind went to the darkest places during that first week of searching for her. Had she killed herself? Walked into the sun? The despair of being abandoned and the uncertainty of permanently losing Vina was maddening. I was afraid that the accumulated hurt and trauma from the past, plus the decades of slumber, had left me in a more vulnerable state. Vina had become my rock. She may have been in a worse state months before her turning, but she was my light. I depended on her love, her gift, her presence alone to navigate a more purposeful life as a vampire.

And she was gone. Right after she said she loves me. It's quite disconcerting how the words I love you were taking on a new meaning for me. If Louis withheld it, Vina was generous but at the cost of her leaving. 

I kept searching for her, calling her phone, leaving messages, and waited outside her home in hopes that she would turn up to get some of her things - nothing. Within a month, I gave up and accepted it. 

"Why’d you just accept it, Lestat? Not something you usually do, considering your thing with abandonment…Considering, how Vina left was a little bit cruel, don’t you think?" Daniel raises an eyebrow at Vina, who just turns away from him. I reach out to her and squeeze her knee to bring her attention back to me. 

“It was cruel that she left without a word…but the guilt of how I’ve failed her was more cruel. And so I’ve accepted it because I felt I deserved it, and that she would be better off without me.”

Vina lets out a gasp, staring back at me with that apologetic look on her face - another thing I don’t deserve. 

“Oh, babe…no. That’s not why I left. I w-” 

I noticed Daniel looking at both of us a little perplexed and started wagging what I call his annoying accusatory finger at us.

“You two haven’t talked about this?” 

Pursing my lips, I’m unsure how to point out to Daniel how we operate as a couple. 

“Vina and I, we do communicate our feelings to each other well enough, but there are things we left undiscussed, either because we have a silent understanding, or sometimes it just didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. The moment she returned to me, it didn’t matter why she left. She came back to me, and that's all that mattered.”

Daniel sighs a little frustrated and a little unconvinced.  

“Okay, since we’re now talking about this…why did you leave Vina?”

“I’m used to dealing with things on my own. I tend to self-isolate, unfortunately without regard for how the people who care about me feel.” I squeeze the hand on my knee and look at Lestat with regret.

“I was confused and disoriented by all the changes within me as a new vampire, and I was… also really angry. Enraged. I didn’t say anything, especially when I saw how enthusiastic Lestat was about teaching me the vampire ways. But the moment I was turned and realized what I had permanently lost, I was angry. I just hid it from him really well. I was thankful for the things Lestat taught me and for giving me this… gift, but I knew I had to deal with my  shit—alone. I wa–” I bite my lip debating whether to continue. 

Daniel looks at me, sensing my hesitation when I try to talk more but stop myself from doing so. 

“Vina…” 

Lestat tilts his head towards me with curiosity when he sees Daniel raising his eyebrow urging me to continue. 

“Mon ange?”

“Whenever I felt my hand wasn’t there, not only I was being reminded of what was done to me but there was a nagging feeling that…” I quickly glance at Lestat’s direction and sigh nervously.  “...Lestat wouldn’t love me the same. He said things did not change, but it clearly did. It changed me. And despite me being turned, I remained as a maimed.”

Lestat has this horrified surprised look on his face when I look back his way.  

“Vina…” His eyes meet mine, on the verge of tears. My poor beautiful rockstar boyfriend had cried buckets during the filming of his documentary. He is a pretty crier but it breaks my heart whenever I see him like this.   

“You’re breaking my heart with these thoughts.” 

“That’s why I didn’t tell you, babe.” 

“You know that’s not true.” 

I grab his hand bringing it closer to my chest. “I know now, Lestat. I know. But during that time, my rage messed up everything - my self assurance, the security I felt in your feelings for me… I remember how you constantly praised me for my gift as a musician, how you fell in love with me because of it -

“That wasn’t the rea–”

“-- and when it was taken from me I was afraid of how you’re going to look at me from there on. I remembered the look you gave me when we're in that coffin room during our first night, when I asked you about my hand. I felt hurt because it felt like di-”

“Don’t you dare say that, Vina Quinn!” 

I ignore the startled look from Daniel when Lestat raises his voice and calls out my whole name. 

“Don’t you dare say I was disgusted by you. I - it never crossed my mind, not even once!” 

I wait for him to calm down from his outburst and we both look at each other until Lestat sighs, remembering our first night in the coffin room. 

“That wasn't disgust, my love…” He says softly. “...It was dread - seeing you get hurt with the realization of what you lost.” He then kneels in front of me, grasping both of my hands with his eyes almost pleading. 

“Vina, I look at your hand everyday with regret and mourn you for it, and I feel utterly useless because I know I can’t give back what you lost. Not even the dark gift, not even if I sell myself to the devil.”  Feeling the weight of the guilt that must be gnawing at him everyday, I suddenly feel bad. 

I have confidence in Lestat’s love for me. Even with the knowledge that Louis still remains the love of his life, Lestat has always made me feel that I’m no less loved. But working on this documentary has brought me back to places I’ve tried so hard to bury over the years. The doubts, insecurities, and rage resurfacing now feel so out of place in our otherwise stable companionship- it’s as if we’re fumbling to reassure one another, and I hate it. 

“Lestat, babe…” I caress his cheeks and motions him to get up. “I know. Please don’t blame yourself. I was in a messed up place and you, you’re the reason why I’m here. You brought me back to my purpose. I was put on this earth by you - to love and be loved, and to do what I’ve always wanted to do - to create music in eternity with you. That’s all the reason I need to walk on this earth. I am happy.” I kiss him just in time before his tears fall. We didn’t even realize the silence around the room. I don’t know how they are going to edit our countless moments like this. We look like the cheesiest, very dramatic, and maybe insufferable couple. But then again, everything has been quite dramatic during the duration of filming this documentary. 

“There seemed to be a lot of self-loathing going on for both of you during that time.”   

Daniel muses and I’m sensing some empathy from him which makes him so extra likeable when he’s not being a deliberate asshole.

“The self loathing never goes away, I'm afraid.” Lestat says. 

“Yeah…trauma does that, I guess.” Smiling at Daniel while squeezing Lestat's hand who already settled back on his seat, looking subdued from our shared emotional high earlier.

“So, where did you go?” 

—----------------------------------------------

I haven’t slept a wink inside that coffin. I could feel Lestat’s heartbeat against my ear as I laid on his chest and pressed my head further to seek comfort and warmth in its sound. Because everything within me felt cold - the blood inside my now vampire veins, my skin, even the lashes that touched my lower eyelids whenever I blink. I looked up at him amidst the darkness. He was deeply and peacefully asleep. His chest heaved with each gentle breath. 

I wished I had the same peace. I wasn’t in disbelief after Lestat exposed himself to me as a vampire but I was more surprised at how quickly I’ve accepted his nature and his offer of immortality to become this… am I to call myself a monster now? I didn’t feel any different. I was hungry, so I ate. I needed to move, and now I could move faster. I was still miserable and I was angrier than before.     

I wished I could enjoy the possibilities of this life that was bestowed on me. I was turned into this creature that apparently has the power to bend any mortal to my will. The love of my life breathed new life into me so we could spend eternity together. The sex? As vampires? Fucking amazing. I’m afraid nothing can ever compare to the sensation of good old fucking while drinking each other’s blood. 

Frankly, I should never ask for more. I should let bygones be bygones, right?

Except, I’ve always seen myself first and foremost as a musician - more than Lestat’s immortal companion. And that was taken from me.

Lestat was right, immortality wasn’t a cure. It didn’t rid me of the pain and the rage that I have been quietly nursing while we were in the middle of my hunting lesson. I was hoping that vampirism would at least get me my hand back no matter how long it takes. It gave me hope that I could get to play music forever, but alas, vampires in real life don’t regrow the limbs they lost especially before they became immortal. I almost shrunk in pain when I saw Lestat turn away from me the moment I asked him about it. He may have told me that he loves me but things did indeed change, and it hurts to feel that I might not be capable of filling what Lestat wanted in me as his companion.  

Before tears could fall on Lestat's bare body. I gently opened the lid of the coffin and carefully slipped out of it. I couldn’t tell if it was already evening. I made my way out of that room and saw the drawn curtains on the second floor. Took a careful peek outside and I saw the sun setting. I thought it was generally safe for me to go outside. But first, I had to find some clothing and I had to do it fast before Lestat woke up.  

I blindly opened one of the doors and it brought me to his walk in wardrobe. The whole room lit up when I entered and I caught myself in awe with the amount of luxury clothing in there that I haven’t seen him use. But this was perfect, as I needed clean clothes before I head out. It took me a few minutes before I found a shirt, pants, a pair of bedroom mules, and a miraculous hoodie that weren’t outlandish. I wanted to be discreet.

I finally caught my reflection in the mirror… Ah, vampires have reflections! That brought relief to me in a way. For the first time, I was able to properly look at my new self under proper lighting. My unblemished skin. My hair was beautiful - I hadn’t seen my hair this glorious before. Not a frizz or misplaced curl in sight. Then, my eyes… I was surprised at how they turned red and glowed like that. I almost did not recognize myself. Apart from the eyes, everything looked like my normal self, just enhanced to make me look flawless - like a real-life photo filter. I retrieved the three hundred dollars I got from my first kill and there was a bunch of crumpled cash lying on top of the tray just below the mirror which I also pocketed. Since I didn’t have the ability to fly, I would still need cab money.

I stopped behind the front door, briefly questioning if it was right to leave Lestat like this. I hesitated to open it and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. But I know I had to do what I got to do. Alone. Heaving a burdened sigh, I pulled the hoodie tightly around my head and opened the door. 

I was out in the street. It was barely evening, as it was still at the height of the golden hour. I could immediately feel the pull of the sun, sucking out the energy off me. I had to endure and anxiously waited for a cab. I didn’t know why I thought Lyft would be irrelevant for vampires - I was always stuck with an ancient image of them - but here I was cursing I didn’t have my phone with me to book a ride. 

Thankfully, I was able to hail one after a few minutes and took it up to my apartment. Thank God for fingerprint doors, since I didn’t have my key with me either. Thank God I still have fingerprints?! Also, now that I’m already immortal, what even constitutes a God ?!

This onslaught of questions - combined with the exhaustion from the leftover sunlight - made me collapse onto the floor the moment I closed the door, gasping for air, tired as fuck. Like when I ran my first 21 km. I didn’t expect the sun’s power over me, now a creature of the night. I considered that a punishment, especially since I wasn’t even a night owl back when I worked graveyard shifts as a nurse.

When I gathered enough strength. I closed all the curtains and prepared to gather some stuff. I got my medical bag from my old nursing kit. I still have a few IV bags - they were expired but decided to bring those with me, just in case. I decided to wait until it was completely dark and huddled under my bed to seek comfort in total darkness while I randomly searched for New York blood banks, piranha solutions, lye, sodium hydroxide on my phone. 

I could feel the hunger creeping in and remembered that I still had leftover pizza. Pizza that Lestat bought when he was trying to coax me to eat. I crawled out of my bedroom floor and headed to the fridge, warmed up a couple of slices in the microwave. The smell wafting from the pizza was still the same but it didn’t perk me like it used to. 

I immediately spat it out when I took a bite, gagging at the taste of it. Pretty sure it wasn’t expired but that tasted exactly like cardboard. I threw the slice out of my surprise and annoyance and it accidentally knocked out the plate smashing it into pieces. Oops, I still have to control this vampire strength. 

Pacing back and forth around my dark empty apartment didn’t ease my growing hunger and restlessness. The sun was almost gone but still not dark enough. I figured I had to clean myself first when I saw in my full length mirror the dirt, blood, and grime left on my skin from my attempted suicide at the bridge, and my first hunt last night. Warm showers still felt great. I put on a new set of clothes and packed a few in my small duffel bag.    

I sighed once again when I took another peek outside and saw that the sun was setting slow. I knew I had to go before Lestat came over to look for me. So I gathered all my stuff, got my phone and made sure to book a ride this time. Tightening my hoodie on my neck, and tucking my right arm inside my sleeves, I hopped on to my Lyft to take me to my destination.

The evening finally reclaimed its hours the moment I arrived in front of a penthouse in Brooklyn. From the minute Lestat taught me how to read minds, and while he was teaching me - his newly hatched fledgling - how to hunt, I was trying to track his thoughts all over New York.     

Daniel’s eyes light up upon realizing where I went. “You’re getting your revenge.”

I nod at him and see Lestat beaming at me proudly.  “Unlike my darling here, I carry my grudge like a trophy.” Tilting my head towards him, I smile back feeling his pride affecting me.  

I stood from a safe distance in front of his building, hidden among the trees, his shadow moved in the windows. I knew it was him. From his erratic thoughts, to his scent - which amplified both my rage and hunger - the bastard was out of the psychiatric facility and was back to his cushy penthouse way earlier than his intended sentence. I tuned in for other thoughts inside his penthouse and looked like he was alone - except for a couple of staff in what sounded like a security room. Great. I’ve never broken into someone’s house before but my new vampire abilities made me feel invincible. If worse comes to worse, I’ll kill everyone that would come my way.  

I find that CCTVs are a problem for the modern inexperienced vampire.  But as Lestat mentioned, blood is more accessible these days than the period he was born in. The thing was, I wasn’t there for food - hmmm… no, scratch that, I certainly meant to feed from him - but I was there for torture and potential homicide. Keeping it on the DL is pretty important for vampires as Lestat emphasized, so these CCTVs were beginning to be a pain in the ass.

I scanned his building and there was one on his front door, and in the backyard facing the fire escape stairs. After much deliberation, I reckon that I should just destroy them. Before I even came out from the trees, I saw a camera just a few feet from where I was standing facing his penthouse. 

Fucking camera! I muttered angrily under my breath and took advantage of my lightning vampire speed to take the camera down and smash it to pieces. I did the same thing to the two cameras in his building and started climbing through the fire escape stairs to the floor where I saw his shadow. The windows were locked but it came easily undone after I tugged it. I was strong and I felt it in every movement, thanks to Lestat's blood. 

I quietly settled my bag on the floor, navigating my way in what looked like his dimly lit study. The room was a complete mess. Books were torn everywhere, there was an organ with one of its stands destroyed, and a guitar was lying on the floor with its fret board broken in half. Looks like someone isn’t coping as well enough… I kicked the guitar out of my way and walked to his living room where I saw his back lounging comfortably on the sofa watching a Black Mirror episode.

 To be in the same room with him again brought the familiar nausea. The fact that mortal memories can trigger the same reaction to my now vampire body was disconcerting for me. If they were good memories I would say it made me feel so human, but this kind, with this fucking cunt in front of me - the anger and the physical recoil from all the fresh trauma - amplified the monster within me. I could feel myself getting sick by his presence, but I could also feel my new strength instantly eating whatever queasy feeling I have. 

Adrian jumped out startled at an incredible speed and got up from the sofa when I hurled one of his childhood music competition trophies at the CCTV above the wall facing his living room.  He stood frozen looking at the fallen security camera trying to make sense of what happened. Before he could turn to face me, I got another trophy from his shelf and threw it at the other camera facing the kitchen. The bastard let out a small scream and whipped his head in my direction. He was squinting his eyes to where I was as my identity was still concealed from his poorly lit study room. 

The moment I stepped out of the shadows, his heartbeat went insanely loud and fast. I could almost feel myself salivating from hunger since my eyesight could clearly see the traces of his veins, and if I tune in close enough - I bet I would hear the maddening flow of his blood being pumped through his body. 

“Hello.” 

His eyes almost bulged out of its sockets upon realizing who I was. He was trying to catch up  with his breath with his mouth gaped open, licking his lower lip so as not to drool. My own restraint was keeping me from literally salivating as his scent captured my hunger. 

“V-Vina? Is that really you?” 

Hearing his voice almost drove me to the edge of jumping at him and sinking my fangs into his neck to drain him. If he doesn’t choose his words carefully, I wasn’t sure if I could hold onto my plans and just kill him. I didn’t want that. Killing him would be mercy and he doesn’t deserve any of it, especially from me. 

He stood his ground as I slowly stepped into the light just a few feet from him. 

“Who do you think it is?”  A ghost. His thoughts replied.     

His eyes darted down to my hand and of course, being the sick fuck that he was, a small smile etched on his lips. Whatever identity he was posturing at that second, he felt incredibly proud. His thoughts conveyed that he left an imprint on me and that a part of him would now always be with me. 

The familiar nausea came threatening to climb up my throat but then again, my anger was far stronger. I could feel my long nails digging and bleeding on my left palm as I followed through with my restraint. 

“What brought you here? Revenge?” He tried to mask his fear with cockiness. He was cocky alright but the fear was bubbling loudly underneath. I was glad I had that effect on him. He saw me and had an inkling that something had changed. 

My eyes didn’t escape the glaring fact that his whole left hand was missing. It was wrapped in a bandage, shorter than his other arm, with a noticeable missing middle finger and thumb on his right. I was shocked the moment I saw him stand from his sofa revealing his mutilated hands. This was the first time I was properly looking at him as I didn’t dare look at him during the trial because his presence made me physically sick. 

“What happened to you? Self-penance?” My question had a genuine curiosity but also dripped with so much disdain by the time I looked at him. 

His face changed from his cockiness to split seconds of fear, sadness, disgust, and eventually full on rage. 

“Your boyfriend did this to me, you bitch! Your boyfriend made me cut it off!!!” His screams permeated in his padded penthouse. The walls were soundproof, perhaps of him being a musician or maybe there are other sick twisted fuck things he does that others should not hear. Terrified thoughts of him being tortured by Lestat and trauma flooded his feebly vulnerable brain.

Aaah…I do remember bits and pieces of Lestat telling me that he tortured this lunatic but  I completely missed out the detail that he mutilated him. Lestat just made my job easier. I ignored the pang of guilt and sadness that briefly came onto me as I was reminded that I left him without a word.

“Awww…poor you…” I pouted at him in mockery, ever so slowly walking closer towards him. 

“How the fuck did you get in?! Did your demon boyfriend bring you here so you can, what? Have a chat?” The more he was fearful, the more he amps up the arrogance. He was still sizing me up, assessing if I was still a normal human or had become the devil-fanged creature just like Lestat. He had a very clear visual of Lestat in his head with his blood all over his mouth. 

“I don’t need any help. My rage brought me here on my own. I could smell your stench from miles away. I could hear your erratic thoughts. You’re so easy to find.” 

The bastard took a seat from the farthest corner of the room getting his cocky act together to attempt to fool me that he wasn’t scared. 

“Now, what do you want? You want me to apologize? Did your family not get that huge settlement money from my parents and from Juilliard? Your boyfriend already did his revenge, a fucking vampire! And no one believed me when I told them that a vampire mindfucked me into cutting my hand. Everybody just thought I was insane!” 

“But you are a fucking lunatic. You played the fuck out of your insanity pretty well. Being crazy was your advantage, that’s why you’re back here in your posh apartment after just a few months.”

“Well, Lestat is still the devil who drank my blood and mutilated me - aaaahh!!!” The next thing I knew, I had jumped at him, and my fangs immediately found the sweet spot on his neck. I could feel my eyes roll to the back of my head as his blood flowed into my fangs, sliding down my throat. I quenched my thirst until I felt his skin grow cold, but my fangs wouldn’t budge, still anchored to his neck. I was losing control of my appetite, but he couldn’t be dead - not yet. It was too early for that. I used every ounce of my strength to pry myself off him before I drained him dry.

He was left crawling on the floor, gasping for breath - all color drained from him. I listened to his pulse; it was fast, but steady, to my relief.

He looked back at me in utter horror as blood oozed from his wounds. Before he could say a word, I punctured my finger to heal his neck wound, imitating what Lestat did to my first ‘food.’ He flinched when he saw my unnaturally long fingernails as I stared back at him, blood still dripping from my chin, fighting the urge to feed on him again.

“Y-y-you’re…h-how?!” He managed to sputter. 

My fingers wiped off the blood from my chin and licked it clean. 

“This monster that you’re seeing right now…” I secretly sighed remembering Lestat, my maker.  

“I can tear your limbs apart like paper. I can drain all of your blood to fill myself up for days and leave you flat and withered like a deflated balloon. God, I’d very much love to do that… I have all these skills, and yet there’s one thing I won’t be able to get back - one thing that I’d gladly exchange all these new ‘gifts’ for...”

“Music was my life, and because of what you did, I won’t be able to play music the way I used to.”

I looked back at him as angry tears won me over. He reached another height of fear when he saw the bloody tears streaming down my face, uttering a very loud “what the fuck?!” in his head.

“...My hand, unfortunately, did not magically grow back when I became like this. Kudos to you for leaving an eternal stamp on me, I guess. I reckoned this would be a good reminder for me - this hell…”

I stood up and wiped the bloody mess off my face.

“But seeing now that we’re both in this hell - at least I get to be in charge of yours.”

Before he could say a word - he was about to call me a whore - I punched him unconscious. I was tired of hearing him talk and looking at his smug face.

After unlocking his phone, I turned it off and dropped it in the trash. Quickly grabbing what seemed to be his car keys, I went into his room and found a huge duffel bag to fit his body in. I grabbed one of his baggy sweatshirts and threw it over my own hoodie, along with a pair of his loose pants - for decoy purposes, to fool the CCTV.

His body felt surprisingly light as I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed to the elevator, careful not to show my face to any cameras. I just assumed the parking lot was in the basement - and thankfully, it was. After locating his car, I dumped the duffel bag in the passenger seat, unzipped it, and tied his hands with pieces of his guitar cables I found.

He’d feel some serious pain when he woke up, since I accidentally broke his legs a little while squeezing him into that stupid duffel bag. But he was fine. It would heal in a few days - or a week.

I drove us back to the place where my hell began. I read his thoughts - he still replayed everything he did to me, especially when he felt bored or wanted to feel less like a loser. I saw the exact spot where he took me. I was determined to reclaim this trauma, to turn this place into his personal hell instead of mine.

“What did you do to him?” Daniel asks.

I kept him there for about a month. Made him my pet - and also my personal supply of blood. I beat him up at first, but eventually, he grew numb to it. What really got to him, though, was when I fed on him. That fucked him up more than anything. So I fed on him.

At any point I accidentally went too far with my feeding, my expired hydration bag would be ready, and I’d nurse him back to health - hydrate him, feed him through a dextrose line until his blood flow stabilized. I robbed the hospital I worked at for almost ten years to get more supplies - hydration bags, tubes, liquid food, and eventually, blood bags. It was kind of exciting, in a fucked-up way, to play nurse to him

“Petty crimes for the new vampire,” Daniel smiles at me. It seems to trigger a memory from his own early days as a vampire.

“It’s so easy to feel invincible when you suddenly have all these powers, right, Daniel? What was the first illegal thing you did - aside from the inevitable murder, of course - when you were a newborn?” I smirk at him, amused.

“I did a lot of illegal things in my twenties, Vina. But post-mortal? Probably took every drug I could get my hands on all at once, just to see what my vampire body could take.”

“And?” 

“Drinking a junkie is far more satisfactory if I’d like to get high and experience the same effects.” 

While the bastard recuperated, I would bring a human back to the dump, feed in front of him, and toss the bodies beside him. There was a week when I enjoyed hunting so much that, as I got used to my skills, I brought around ten bodies to that dump - all laying beside him, starting to rot. Disposing of them was a nightmare in a busy city like New York. Some I dumped in the river, mutilating them in front of him. I found a couple of empty, huge drums from the abandoned construction site and began water cremating the bodies (after doing my due diligence, researching, remembering that Breaking Bad episode - who fucking knew that would be useful - and stealing chemicals from funeral homes as well as lye from hardware stores), one by one, until they all melted. Everything - done for him to watch. At this point, he was just so mentally fucked up from everything he’d witnessed.

I was getting to the point of boredom after almost a month of torturing him. The final straw was stuffing him with whiskey - the drink that obsessively reminded him of my skin and scent when he was assaulting me. I drowned him in it and sat on his stomach until he puked it out. I did it several times, over and over, until he couldn’t stand the very presence of it and it triggered a deep, visceral fear in him.

“I didn't leave him there. I drove him back to his apartment the same way I brought him out -  in a bag - and laid him on his sofa as if he’d never left.”

I could hear commotion outside his room - security alerting his parents the moment his car arrived. They’d been looking for him for a month. He was so broken he didn’t move or speak, and even if he did talk, no one would believe him.

“I left him - and his apartment - that night, with my rage at least, gone, closing that chapter of my life. However, I felt empty afterward. Especially knowing that I was still the same: a maimed musician who could no longer play.”

I feel Lestat give my hand another squeeze as I sigh, remembering the emptiness I felt after all the cruelty I inflicted on that bastard.

“His family might press charges for the abuse, now that you’ve confessed to torturing him,” Daniel muses.

“They should - so they can fully expose his identity as my rapist, as my butcher, to the millions who are going to watch your documentary, Daniel.” I exhale, trying to steady myself.

“Do you promise not to edit this out, Daniel?”

Daniel looks unsure of what I mean, but he nods.

I watch Vina as she looks back at the Interrotron and addresses the bastard who’s going to watch this - and she’ll make sure that he does.

“If you’re watching… and I fucking know you are, you might as well jump from your penthouse and end your miserable life, you sick fuck. The time is now. Right now - go to your balcony… and jump.”

Vina holds her stare at the monitor before snapping out of her trance.

I know exactly what Vina just did, and I immediately give her a quick kiss, my heart swelling with pride. She’s been through so much, and I’m beyond grateful that she’s here with me - alive, making glorious music, just as she intends to exist in this world: as my companion.

It’s Daniel’s turn to exhale after watching Vina on the monitor, delivering her promise to the goblin. I could feel the goosebumps ripple through him.

“Let’s hope the bastard follows through.” Daniel mutters under his breath. 

“Oh he will. He will. My mentor taught me well.” Tilting my head towards Lestat and giving him a proud smile.  “...the bastard will do it.”  

“I’ll make sure it won’t be edited out.” I nod at Daniel as a gratitude. 

“Where did you go next? Did y–” 

“By the way, Lestat knew all that.” 

Daniel raises his eyebrow questioning what I said. “Knew what?” He then turns to Lestat.    

“I lied when I said I couldn’t find her because I knew where she was the first night she left.” 

“Oookay…I’m listening, go on.” Daniel nods his encouraging Lestat to continue. 

By the night she left, I kept tuning in to the entirety of New York, and that’s when I caught the goblin’s thoughts, screaming in pain. New York is small, so I immediately knew where she was. It was quite a surprise to see her take him to the same place where she had suffered. So I quietly watched her from a distance every night - watching her torture him for a month, fumbling as she brought her kills to him, and adorably clumsy when disposing of her victims.

Ironically, the bastard once again led me back to Vina. Whenever night fell, I’d just tune in to his thoughts as my love subjected him to new kinds of horror. By the time she was done with him, my link to her was inevitably cut off when she went off on her own.

“Did you know you were being followed?” Daniel asks Vina and she shakes her head. 

“No…all my energy went into making that cunt suffer and also getting used to navigating my skills as a new vampire - but also as a handicap vampire. But when I went back home, I was surprised to find a coffin in my basement.” 

“Ah yes, it was the coffin I ordered when I was watching over her the night before she was turned. It arrived in her home the second night she disappeared. I was glad she had her own coffin to use until she changed her mind to come back to me.” 

“...And you didn’t make your presence known?” It’s my turn to shake my head at Daniel’s question. 

“I wanted her to come to me of her own accord. When I saw her torturing the bastard, I knew it was something she needed to do for herself even if I longed to be with her and do it with her. But even when she showed up at my front door a couple of nights after it was over, she hesitated… and left. I didn’t have the courage I once had. I couldn’t bring myself to impose. I instead waited my days, and months away for her to show up again on my front door.” 

“After all that rage and rampage… I was lost on what to do next. I naturally gravitated back to Lestat. He was basically the only one I had. I stood at his front door, conflicted about whether to call his name… but my self-loathing and self-pity won me over. In the end, I walked away - because I was a coward, thinking he wouldn’t love me the same.”

For more than half a year, I would wander getting accustomed to being a vampire - getting my system in order when it came to killing and disposing, and consuming every vampire-related piece of literature, music, TV, film, and art like a mad person. I wanted to fully embrace and understand what I am, while adapting it to my reality as someone handicapped - which, admittedly, carried a sense of shame in how I carried myself. I attempted to play the guitar again, but every failure left me angry, sending my mind into some very dark places. So instead, I spent those months distracting myself from music by honing my hunting skills and learning as much as I could about my new nature. 

While reading some articles about a strange murder case reported in London, I realized I had never traveled outside the US before. Maybe it was time to give myself that opportunity. Since I was supposed to be in Europe anyway, I decided to take some time to travel alone - and eventually, I ended up in London.

 “London?” 

“Yes, Daniel. That’s where I found your book.” I glance at the copy of Interview With A Vampire sitting on top of a coffee table.  

“Did you know she went to London, Lestat?” 

“Not at that time, not London… but Venice, I did.”

Daniel frowns getting confuse. “Venice? You were travelling Europe on your own Vina and you…” He turns to Lestat. “...you didn’t follow her?” 

“As I said, I only knew when she went to Venice - which she would tell you if you’d let her, Daniel - and after all what happened in Paris, and with the thought of epxeriencing these fucking menacing planes, I was almost paralyzed with the thought of flying abroad.” 

“We had to do a lot of convincing for him to push through with this world tour because he hated flying by planes but he was able to force himself and got used to it once he had his own private jet.” I playfully rolled my eyes towards Lestat but also happy for him to have overcome his trauma travelling internationally. 

The door of the study room opens when Christine comes walking in. 

“Excuse me, Daniel.” She saunters in the middle of the room with cellphone in hand.  “We just need to smoothen out some details with you Mr. Lioncourt for the San Francisco concert.” 

Lestat sighs and squeezed my hand before getting up from the couch. “Will you be fine, my love?” He softly asks.

I beam looking up at him, gently kissing his hand to which he turns to caress my cheek.  “Of course, babe. See you later.” 

“I’ll be back right after we’re done.”  

“Alright then…”Daniel says the moment the door closes behind Lestat. “...take us first to London.” 

—-------------------------

London, UK 

It took me a few weeks to decide whether I’d travel with a coffin or just get one when I arrived. In the end, I chose not to bring it - having it freighted was absurdly expensive, and buying one on arrival, then having it delivered to my lodging, felt far too strange.

I used my savings for this trip - which was still more than enough to let me live a comfortable life - and booked a red-eye flight to London. It was supposed to be just a two-week stay, but then one month turned into several. I chose to stay in the heart of the city - somewhere I wouldn’t feel as alone, with enough noise and distraction, and enough choices for a hunt. If I wasn’t hunting I adapted what I did in New York and turned to hospitals to get my fill of blood bags.

I lived a pretty reclusive life as a vampire in London, always keeping in mind what Lestat taught me about keeping our nature on the down-low. With no coffin, I slept under my bed during the day. But at night, I roamed the city as if I were mortal, hopping from one gig to another in underground clubs, slowly immersing myself in the city’s buzzing indie music scene and discovering incredible artists and bands. A few of them I managed to befriend - and they remain close friends to this day, despite after knowing my vampire nature. They saw me as a disabled music nerd and welcomed me into their little world. For a while, I felt almost normal… until my nature reminded me that the blood running through their veins was my food - and that I could kill them.

“London felt like a second home when I started making friends with these mortal musicians.” 

“No local coven has made contact with you at the time?” 

““Hmm… none, as far as I remember, Daniel. These musicians were all mortals, and I’ve always been careful with my kills. I guess I started feeling the overwhelming presence of other vampires when their conversations became increasingly loud - around my third or fourth month there.”

He must be burned! 

Wie kann der Typ nur unsere Natur auffliegen lassen?! 

The audacity to publish it in a book! 

Burn him! Burn him! 

Tue-le ! Tranche-lui la tête! 

I quietly listened to this angry vampire mind network - as I used to call it - all shouting the same message, growing more furious each night.

We should kill him! Slit his throat in his cushy Dubai property! 

Louis du Lac must be punished! 

No matter how hard I tried to tune out the aggressively angry mob of vampire mind crash-outs, they were just too loud. All I could hear was this Louis du Lac being the subject of their collective wrath.

At the time, I felt it wasn’t my business to poke around or insert myself into the conversation. But one evening, as I was walking through the city, I passed by the bookstore I usually frequented back when I was buying every piece of vampire literature I could find - to either educate or entertain myself.

“Your book was front and center in that massive display window. A new release by the award-winning investigative journalist… oddly titled Interview with the Vampire. ”

“What did you think about my book?”

“I wasn’t familiar with your work, so it didn’t appeal to me at first. You’re an investigative journalist, so I assumed it was some kind of metaphor- maybe about a drug lord or a Jimmy Savile-type figure. But the vampire rants started around the same time your book was released. After days of passing by, it felt like the book was screaming at me to pick it up. Eventually, I got intrigued enough to take a look and read the back cover.”

And there it was - that name again. Louis de Pointe du Lac . Louis du Lac, as the other vampires called him. I scanned the pages, and my heart stopped the moment I saw his name in the early chapters - Lestat de Lioncourt. My lover. My maker. My mentor.

And he had been all those things to him first.

Page after page. Lestat, Lestat, Lestat .

I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, stunned by this book that was most definitely a vampire biography - which explains why the other vamps were going mad - and by the fact that my vampire boyfriend was very closely acquainted with this Louis du Lac. I bought two copies. It was hailed as a bestseller, so I figured I’d buy a spare in case I accidentally burned one out of anger from what I was about to discover.

Lestat and I never had the chance to properly talk about his story. I asked him a few questions - the most basic ones- and that was it. My heart was racing as I headed to a 24-hour café to sit down and read the book in its entirety. 

It was close to dawn by the time I finished. As the sun slowly began to reclaim its turn for the day, I felt all my energy drain from me as I somberly made my way back to my lodging. Not even sleep was strong enough to keep my mind off the things I had read. 

“What did you feel after reading all that transpired in the book?”

“I felt confused - reading this version of Lestat that was completely different from the Lestat I experienced. Louis did admit to inconsistencies in how he remembers his memories, so I was like… was that the real Lestat? Or was he lying? Or am I experiencing the Lestat who was shaped by the consequences of those events?”

Daniel shrugs his shoulders. “Could be all true.”

“They had a daughter , Daniel! A daughter who died, to which he witnessed! And these events span for 40-50 years. There was so much history tied to one person.”

I don’t remember exactly how many nights I stayed under my bed just thinking about the book - and about Lestat.

Lestat and Louis.

Lestat and Claudia.

Lestat, Louis, and Claudia.

He had been with me through the worst days of my life, helped me pull through, stayed by my side… and yet, all these things had happened to him, and he was left alone to deal with the aftermath.

Another thing I struggled to make sense of - something that didn’t add up, or maybe something I was just in denial about - was how the book portrayed Lestat as an abuser, the toxic husband, and most of all the perpetrator in their daughter’s death. 

I couldn’t reconcile that image with the man I knew. The caring, doting Lestat who looked after me when I was nothing more than a hollow shell of a human being.

“And as you said, Daniel. It could be all true. All that version of Lestat was true. Of course I didn’t want to disregard Louis’ experience. Their relationship in the book was toxic as fuck The stark difference was just so jarring for me to read…” I sigh remembering all the conflicting feelings I had after reading the damn book. 

“When Louis told me the resentment he felt towards our relationship… it was justified, I guess.”

“What was that?” 

I look up at Daniel slightly startled by his voice. “What?” 

“Something about Louis telling you about resentment…”

I didn't realize I was muttering under my breath as I am getting lost in my thoughts. “Uhh…what? No… I- I didn’t -” I gently shake my head and avoid his gaze. 

I know Daniel is still gazing at me with a suspicious look so I immediately continue with my story and revert back to London. 

As soon as I snapped out of my hibernation mode and realized I'd been hiding under my bed for far too long, I became determined to go back to the US and seek out Lestat. If I had to beg him to take me back, I would. I felt I needed to hear everything directly from him - I just wanted to be by his side. I had two weeks left when I remembered that my return ticket was set to depart from Venice. I had already changed it twice at a huge additional cost after extending my stay, and decided to make a quick stop in Italy since I was already in Europe. Ah, shit…       

…Some of us are meeting at Dr. Polidori to discuss this heinous book! 

After reading the book, I actively tuned into the vampire mind network to listen in and get more information. If there were threats to Lestat, I needed to know so I could warn him. 

Lestat?! 

The mention of Lestat’s name had me jumped out in surprise. Did they hear me? Fuck!  

I’ve been hearing his name - Lestat - Louis du Lac’s maker and ex-companion!  

Where is that coming from? 

A fledgling of his might be somewhere nearby. He - or is he a she? - might be connected to Louis du Lac!  

I snapped out of the conversation before I could let them hear any more of my thoughts. I needed to go visit Dr. Polidori and eavesdrop some more. From what I’d picked up over the past evenings of attending gigs, there’s a bar where both vampires and mortals go to mingle and connect. Dr. Polidori is the hub in London, and there are similar places spread across the world.

It was a good fifteen-minute walk from my hotel - surprisingly, it was located in the heart of the city for a vampire hub, tucked in the corner of a quiet alley, where loud music rose to a crescendo each time the door opened and fell again when it shut. 

I went inside, and I didn’t know what to expect from a vampire hub. It looked like your average English bar, with loud dance music blaring. People were gathered in their own clusters, and you couldn’t easily tell who was mortal and who was a vampire. Still, I could feel their presence; a group of vampires carries a certain metaphysical weight. I decided to keep a low profile. I wore contact lenses and gloves to cover my fingernails and maimed hand, then settled at the bar and ordered a drink while quietly listening to the vampire conversations.

My cocktail arrived and I noticed some attendees there drinking what looked like a thicker red smoothie - my nose caught the scent as blood. The bar does cater to its peculiar patrons but as much as I wanted to order the same blood drink, I had to keep up with my disguise. 

This bloody book puts us on the spot, man!

No one fucking believes that journalist. Mortals who bought it mostly thought it was a rather thrilling piece of fiction.

But there's already a wide debate about its truth. The mortals who became hardcore fans in such a short time are already starting to fact-check everything.

Louis du Lac must be killed for exposing us.

He is a powerful man. How do you reckon we could kill him?     

We should go after his maker - Lestat - to coax him in! 

I let out a shaky breath after hearing Lestat's name. 

Man, isn’t that Lestat old and more powerful than Louis?! 

Lestat has nothing to do with this damn book, leave him the fuck alone! 

I bit my lip as I wasn't able to resist jumping into the conversation and defend Lestat. 

Who the fuck was that?! 

I’m telling you, she must be his fledgling! Hey! Who are you?!

None of your business! I'm telling you, Lestat doesn’t know shit about this book! So whatever your plan is, leave him out of it..

There I was emptying my drink as I tried to be discreet and not let these motherfuckers know my identity. I didn’t know how territorial vampires are so it’s safer to be cautious.  

Who the fuck are you?! 

Lestat is your maker isn't it? 

She sounded American.  Louis du Lac is also American!

Show yourself! 

Maybe we can start with you so that Lestat could come over and meet us. 

And why do you think Lestat gives a fuck about me? He won’t meet you even if you kill me!  My hand was gripping the drinking glass a little bit tighter as it slowly started showing some cracks. 

We'll see about that! You’re here aren’t you?! 

Scan the area and find her! 

Nobody fucking touch her!!! 

I nearly snapped my head looking up, startled at the new voice that joined the conversation. 

The other vampires started hushing with questions and confusion. 

Now, who the fuck was that?! 

That’s a new one…the vibe is different, man..

Oh my god, that must be her! 

It was the booming voice of a woman with a heavy accent and I instinctively looked towards the door but instead saw a tall blonde, in black trousers, a brown suit, and a loose satin button shirt tucked inside, headed towards my direction. I couldn’t make out the face as half of it was covered by a newsboy cap and the laser lights kept blinding me, but my heart started to race because of the possibilities. 

“Les-” I started to say as the tall blonde came close but then realized he was a…woman. 

The woman’s blonde hair appeared to be braided and tucked inside her collar. They look so alike but I didn't know who this person was. She made eye contact with a small group of people at the corner table and when they saw her, they immediately cowered in fear, perhaps sensing her power.  

I'm your elder! You wouldn’t want to dare mess with some powerful beings as ancient as time, especially the ones mentioned in this… book. Go away you lot!  

The fuck, man. Let’s get out of here! 

She was staring directly at me and I felt her age - her power. The other vampires felt it too and thus, ran away like cowards. I didn’t realize you could feel how powerful vampires are by their presence alone. It made sense to me now the indifference I felt towards Lestat after he turned me - that was me finally feeling how powerful he was as my maker and his fledgling, and it felt incredibly foreign compared to when I was a human whose feelings for him were only mortal love and lust. 

She took a seat beside me by the bar and ordered a martini. Not a single word was uttered yet as I felt frozen on my spot. Unsure who this being was, my thoughts ran - was she good or bad? I realized I was in a foreign country on my own and could be in danger once the other vampires discover I am connected with this Louis du Lac just because we had the same maker. 

“These youngins - they’re brash, hungry, volatile, and a bunch of idiots.” She finally spoke while stirring her drink with the olive on a stick. Her voice was deep, almost like a low-growl. 

I cautiously stared at her and her piercing cobalt blue eyes peered from her cap and met mine. I was taken aback at how intense her eyes were - almost jewel-like.

“Who are you?” I asked her almost in a whisper. 

“Let’s get out of here.” She almost hissed and threw a couple of bills at the bar counter to pay for both of our drinks. 

The enigmatic woman with an intimidating charisma looked back at me when I didn’t budge from my spot. 

“You have nothing to fear from me… not my son’s fledgling.” 

I silently gasped at the revelation and was immediately up at my feet to follow her. 

Lestat’s mother…what the fuck?! Of all places to meet. Why did she come here?’

We were out and about in the street walking side by side. She is a tall woman, perhaps almost the same height as Lestat - her son. Shit! I didn’t imagine meeting a boyfriend’s mother this way. Her strides were wide and long - almost predatory - and I was trying to keep up with her speed while I took out my stupid contact lenses but retained the gloves. 

Our walk took us to the nearby park and her strides became more relaxed. Her braided blonde long hair was out of her collar as she took off her cap and suit and hooked it on her arm. Her outfit and the way she carried herself was masculine that I mistook her as Lestat. But once she took off that coat, it revealed a small waist emphasized by the tucked green satin shirt in her trousers. Her face was almost like the exact copy of his except the longer lashes, softer curls, small cat-like eyes with that intense blue, her cheeks - sharp and hollow with pink tinge on it, and her lips which were plumper than his.  

She turned back to me with her hands both on her back and offered a small smile. 

“Gabrielle. Gabrielle de Lioncourt.”

“Lestat’s mother…” I echoed my thoughts, stating the obvious out loud just to be sure.

“Yes, I am. You see, I’ve pretty much disconnected myself from all of this…” Gabrielle gestured. There was something both regal and inhuman in the way she moved.

“I’ve minded my own business for centuries, with no interest in anyone’s affairs. But I’ve heard whispers all the way from my sanctuary in Africa- of my son reaching out to whomever he could, trying to locate a fledgling who ran away… and of a book written by a former companion and fledgling. I didn’t know which was which, but it compelled me enough to fly out of my jungle. The rumors brought me here, to London. And to you - whose thoughts of longing for my son were so loud, I was assured you were the fledgling who ran away. But you didn’t write the book?”

Gosh. I thought she might be a woman of few words but she gave me a lot of information in just one breath. Gabrielle gave me the impression that she doesn’t waste time. 

“No, I didn’t write it. Louis did. But yes, I am also the fledgling who ran away.” I sheepishly answered.. 

“I flew out here to see what’s all the talk about this runaway fledgling that my son’s calls were able to reach the depths of my lair and to see what sort of trouble he is in because of this book.” 

“He is not…yet. I mean, when I left him he's not in trouble but with this book, I don’t know the implication. I’m not sure if Lestat is even aware of the publication of this book.” 

“Do you know Louis?” 

“No. I haven't met him. I was turned less than a year ago… almost eleven months now? So, no, I don’t know anything about this… Louis du Lac.”

“But you’ve read the book?

“I have.”  

“And your name is?” 

“Oh! Sorry, that was rude of me. My name is Vina Quinn.” I remembered feeling slightly nervous around her. 

Gabrielle smiled at me and took a moment to scan my face. 

“Hmm… a beautiful fledgling.”  She uttered and started walking again. 

“Thank you?...” I blinked in confusion as I ran up to her so I could walk by her side.  

“So…uh… when was the last time you saw your son?” Louis never mentioned her in the book so I assumed she wasn’t there in New Orleans, or even in the Paris trial.

“I can’t remember. We parted in Egypt around 1805, 1806…it’s been too long.”

Throwing centuries of time so casually. I still couldn't get used to the fact that I was mingling with ancient creatures. 

“What’s your plan? Are you going to see him?” 

Gabrielle seemed to have gently stopped in her tracks. 

“Not this time, no. It’s a relief that he is in no grave danger. That’s all that matters to me.”   

That confused me. She flew all the way here to check on what Lestat’s fledglings had been up to, but wouldn’t even dare go directly to him to see how he was. I just realized Lestat rarely mentioned his mother to me. Did he even tell me anything about her? I couldn’t remember. They must have a very complex relationship.

“I’ve rid myself of all moral and emotional obligations imposed on me as a mortal by the time I became a vampire. As long as I know that Lestat's safety is not compromised, I don’t need to be by his side.” Gabrielle said as a response to my thoughts. 

Okay, this woman was something else. Lestat was an emotional and moral obligation to her. Louis and I were irrelevant to that obligation, so she’d rather connect with either of us to get news of her son and then fuck off afterwards. That made me angry.

But then again, I didn’t know what kind of life she lived that pushed her to shred every piece of her humanity. I may be different from Louis in terms of accepting our vampire nature, but like him, I still clung to my human attachments - my music, which I was still mourning for.

Perhaps this was the closest she could come to fulfilling her maternal role.      

“And you?”

Her voice broke my musings as I looked up to her. She didn’t have a reaction for all the thoughts she just heard from me earlier. 

“Why did you leave?” 

My left hand caressed the gloved maimed hand as I pondered on my answer. She didn’t need to know our whole story. When I looked back at Gabrielle, I saw her eyeing my gloved hands. 

I softly cleared my throat and I noticed that we’re close to my hotel.  

“This is my hotel right here. I could give you the book.” 

“Alright, then.” 

We went inside my hotel room. Gabrielle looked around at the massive stacks of vampire-related books bought and rented from the public libraries and picked up some of it to scan. 

“Here you go.” I handed to her a copy of Interview with the Vampire and she immediately settled on my bed, reading the synopsis in the back cover.  For now, I didn’t mind the company. She may be a stranger but I did feel safe around her. 

I took off my gloves and a soft laughter immediately emanated from her. I saw her looking at my maimed hand with a smile on her face. There was no trace of mocking on her face but I stared back at her confused, waiting for her to explain herself. 

“Lestat turned a maimed…” 

“And why does that amuses you?” 

“Oh, I just couldn't imagine what Armand’s face would look like when he knows.” 

Armand. The 500+ year old vampire from the book. Lestat’s ex (from what I knew at the time). Louis’ ex. Jesus…

“My son doesn’t follow any laws - let alone the Great Laws that boy gremlin is so obsessed with. He does have a certain fixation on Lestat, so be careful with that one if you ever meet him.”

Of course, the bastard who orchestrated the Theatre de Vampires trial. I did hope I wouldn’t meet him. 

“What happened?” Gabrielle asked, shutting the book on her lap, eyeing my hand once again. I was slightly startled by her interest but I settled myself on the couch at the foot of the bed and told her the gist of what had transpired between Lestat and I for the past two years.

“Lestat cared for me during these darkest moments of my life and has given me this vampire gift. But the powers of immortality are not enough to bring back what I’ve lost and I was afraid that Lestat won’t love me the same, now that I’m not the gifted musician he fell in love with.” 

There was a melancholic smile on Gabrielle’s face when she mulled over my story. 

“So my son does have a fondness for giving the dark gift to musicians he cherishes, or ones that reminded him of —” 

“Nicki?” 

“You know about him?” 

“Lestat talked about him but I only knew he was his first love after reading Louis’ book.” 

“Aah…right. You don’t mind me reading this here.” She peered at me through her eyelashes as she propped on the unused bed, kicked off her loafers and settled comfortably. 

“Uh no…are you hungry?” I opened the fridge and offered her a blood bag. 

“I could eat.” I tossed her the bag with a straw on it. She closed her eyes when that first sip hit her. 

“It’s been a while since I drank human blood.” Gabrielle licked her lips. 

“Why? Do you not kill mortals?” 

Her voice was slightly more relaxed as she sipped on the blood bag. 

“I do, when I need to. But the jungles where I live give me everything I need to live the life of a vampire I intended to be. Human blood is just something I take to sustain myself. I live more for the hunt.” 

“Hunt? In what sense?”

“Bears, tigers, powerful beasts.” 

Hmm…so she isn’t like Louis but she doesn’t seem to care about human blood or humans in general… Does she even care about anything?     

I secretly sighed at the presence of this peculiar gorgeous woman and the more I looked at her the more I missed Lestat. I opted to reclaim my spot on the ottoman couch and picked up my iPad to quietly watch this film, Vampire Humaniste Cherche Suicidaire Consentant while she read the book. I could hear slivers of her thoughts - the unholy family in New Orleans, Paris, Lestat, fire, Louis, Claudia… - but I didn’t get any feelings off of her. I was unsure what her next move was going to be since she didn’t have any intention of seeing Lestat in person anyway. 

“Is he capable of murder?” Gabrielle closed the book just in time after an hour of reading it. There was a bit of confusion in her cobalt blue eyes. 

“We all are murderers darling.”

“Lestat…do you think he’s capable of killing his daughter? Although not directly, but…you know…”

“He seemed to have a complex relationship with this family of his…but I know my son, there was love there. This book was from a perspective of one person who was being fucked about by a gremlin. I am afraid we won’t know the accuracy of it.”  

“You said you heard Lestat looking for me through the vampire mind network, di -”

“Is that what it’s called?” I blinked at her question but sheepishly answered, 

“I don't know… I just call it that way…Uh…Didn’t you hear anything about Paris at the time?” 

She tossed her empty blood bag in the nearby garbage can and picked up the book once again flipping the pages. 

“There weren’t many of us then, so the ‘network’ wasn’t loud enough to reach me. I was wandering from places to places into the deepest jungles and burying myself in the dirt, in the sand when it's time to sleep. No news ever reached me. The present time is different for obvious reasons but I’ve heard snippets of The Great Conversion.” 

“The Great Conversion?” That didn’t sound good. 

“Yes, it seems our numbers have swelled dramatically. The more they talk, the louder the voices rise - perhaps that is why my son’s call at last, reached me.”  

“And yet, you still wouldn't see him.” 

There was a sharpness in Gabrielle’s stare when I met her blue eyes. 

“Well, he does not seek me. And yet, it is you who refuses to return.”

I turned away from her because she was right. But with all the things that were happening, I was more compelled to go back to him. 

“I don’t fault you for your decision. You seem to be someone who prefers solitude. I get it. I understand that you need to sort your own shit. I’d understand if being with Lestat can be emotionally suffocating for you.”

I agree on everything except the last part. I shook my head at what she said, horrified at the thought of Lestat being emotionally suffocating. I didn’t think of that at all.  

“I don’t think of Lestat’s love that way. You’re right that I need to sort my own shit, and I will come back to him - if he still wants me - but I never saw his love as some sort of baggage or… or prison!”

I turned my back to her, pissed and frustrated. If there was one similarity between them, aside from the physical aspect, it’s that they both know how to push someone’s buttons.

“I’m not judging you. No need to get annoyed.” 

“It’s not true.” 

“Then that’s good. My son is someone who values his emotional needs - needs I was never able to give him.”

I sighed as Gabrielle stood and started pacing around the room. 

“No coffin?” 

“No… too expensive.” I muttered and picked up a book to distract myself, tossing my iPad aside. 

“And where do you sleep?” 

“Under the bed. It's roomier and the covers do its job when the sun is up.” 

I bit on my lower lip thinking about why she was suddenly curious. 

“You can settle here for the night if you don’t have a place to stay.” I offered just in case that was the reason why she was curious. 

Gabrielle chuckled standing beside the dresser. “I was merely curious why there was no coffin here. Besides, I do have a room right across the block, so you don’t have to worry about that.” 

Oh…right. I was a little bit disappointed as I was getting comfortable with her company. After what happened at the bar, having Gabrielle made me feel safe at least. 

I met her eyes and she was staring at me with hesitation - perhaps reading my thoughts - before she uttered. 

“Since, I’m already here…” She walked towards the door. “I have a coffin in my room and perhaps it’s better to stick together for now.” 

“Okay…” 

Gabrielle already gathered her shoes and suit in her hand and opened the door.

“Well, come on then.” She motioned for me to hurry up. I tried to suppress my smile and stood up from my seat, relieved that she offered her company. I hurriedly put on my coat and my hotel keys with me as both of us went out. 

She was checked into a posh hotel, the Corinthia to be exact.  I followed her inside the lobby then to a private lift where we went straight to her room - or more like her penthouse. 

I was stunned at the gorgeous interior of it, where a grand piano sits in the corner of the living room. A jungle lady loaded with cash? Anything is possible for a vampire.

"Coincidentally, this room is called The Musician’s Penthouse - make of that what you will. Fitting for a musician like you, isn't it?"

I ran my fingers through the piano and was immediately transported back to my time in Juilliard where Lestat would play the piano while I weaved in my electrical guitar chords he was hesitant to do. Our first kiss. 

“I don’t know…I don’t really play the piano.” I stopped myself before tears fell into my eyes. I saw Gabrielle climb up the stairs where a gorgeous chandelier dangling in the middle of the staircase. I followed her and the staircase led to the master bedroom. 

Just then, I heard Gabrielle running a bath in the bathroom off the lobby, so I walked down the corridor and into the bedroom.

There it was - a coffin, just beside the pristine king bed. Compared to the coffin that arrived in my house, this was contemporary in design, plain white, and looked like a cubic version of a bathtub with a lid. It resembled a large, peculiar storage box, but the handles on the sides and the lilac silk lining inside gave it away - it was indeed a coffin. The other side table had been moved to make room for it, ensuring it didn’t block the door leading to the private balcony.

I opened the door and was greeted by the crisp, cold air of London, coming close to dawn. Climbing the small flight of stairs led me to its rooftop balcony, where I could catch a glimpse of the London Eye and the city's gorgeous skyline. I sat in one of the lounge chairs by the crackling fireplace, the warmth bringing some comfort to my cold vampire body.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, savoring the heat. For once, I couldn’t hear the vampire talks - it was nice to have some silence in my head. With a couple of nights left before I leave for Venice, I was starting to feel nervous at the thought of going back to Lestat. What if he doesn’t want me back? Has he read the book? What if he’s gone looking for Louis?

“There you are.”  My eyes snapped open interrupted by Gabrielle's voice. For a second I’ve forgotten I wasn’t alone. 

Her long blonde hair was loose and wet, wearing a matching baggy dark blue sleepwear satin pants and long-sleeved shirt.  

She paused on her way when she saw the rooftop view and a small smile curled on her lips. 

“It’s a nice evening.” 

“Almost sunrise.” I slightly corrected her and got up from the lounge chair and observed the tiny flecks of light starting to burst into the sky.  

“Let’s settle for the day then.” 

We both went back inside and Gabrielle started drawing all the curtains inside the  penthouse.   

“You said you sleep under the sands and dirt in your..sanctuary. How come you have a coffin?” It’s been gnawing on me - that question - that I just had to ask her.  

“Well, I bought one. If I’m going to be in London for a couple of days I might as well get a coffin. I haven’t slept one in centuries.” She opened the lid of the white coffin and started fluffing the silk cushiony lining. “The modern designs look very discreet, so my personal butler here doesn't mind or notice this thing in the middle of the room.” 

This woman really is rich. Just like Lestat. Just like Louis and Armand. Granted if you’re an immortal creature who’s been living for more than a hundred years, you oughta have some buttload of money. It was just amazing how they could go invisible in today’s modern world. Perhaps Lestat was an exception, as I did see him in some society social media pages mingling as a socialite in New York.

“We can fit in here.” Gabrielle was braiding her hair when her voice once again broke my train of thought. 

There were seconds of confusion on my end and then she pointed out to the coffin. Quite startled by the proposition, I started fumbling on my words.

“Uh…I - I’m –” She stared back at me amused. “I’m okay. I looked under the bed and I can fit in there.” 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes at me. “The whole room is already protected from the sun. Take the bed instead if you don’t want to lay beside me in the coffin.”    

I glanced at the coffin and it looked so inviting. Sleeping under the bed compared to being encapsulated by the coffin do have a massive difference.

“I guess, I could sleep in the coffin.” 

She was already positioned inside, and when I knelt to take a closer look, it did have enough space for two - unlike Lestat’s coffin, where the only way we could both fit was if one of us lay on top of the other.

Gabrielle already had her eyes closed with both of her hands on top of her chest - perhaps the most quintessential thing I’ve seen from a vampire in real life. I gently crawled inside the coffin and closed the lid. Slowly adjusting myself to a side position so I don't bump into her, I let the darkness take over me and immediately sleep lulled me inside that coffin. 

I awoke the next evening. The coffin provided me with the much needed sleep. I haven't slept like a baby in months after leaving New York. When I opened the lid, I saw Gabrielle in a different set of clothes - a white linen shirt tucked in her khaki shorts, a wide rain brimmed hat, and a pair of leather boots. She was organizing her stuff in a small luggage. 

“You’re leaving?” I asked her, getting a little confused. 

“Yes, there’s no reason for me to stay.”   

“Didn't you just get here the other night?”

“No, I was already here in London for two nights before we met - just lurking and eavesdropping. And that’s enough for me.” 

“Oh…” I couldn’t hide my disappointment but then she seemed like the type who couldn’t stay in one place for a long period of time. 

“You still have a couple of days before you depart for Venice, yes?” 

Right, I did tell her that. I nodded at her as I got up from the coffin and saw all the curtains and blinds were up revealing London’s evening view. 

“Well, stay here for your remaining nights in London. I extended the booking so you could hole yourself in here and remain discreet before you make your trip.” 

“T-that’s generous of you. Thank you. Aren’t you bringing your coffin?”

She scoffed at the sight of it and shook her head. 

“Can’t be bothered to bring that thing all the way to Africa. Use it and leave for the mortals to dispose of it.” 

“Let me take you at least to the airport.” 

She smoothed her shirt all ready with her luggage in hand. Gabrielle gave me a short nod, a small smile playing on her lips. 

I didn’t have a change of clothes with me but I was glad to bring my pair of gloves and a coat.

“Are you bringing this?” Referring to the newsboy cap she was wearing last night. 

“No, take it.” I put it on my head for cover, just in case some vampires out there have been lurking and following me. 

A car had been waiting for us at the entrance of the hotel while Gabrielle talked to the penthouse’s butler explaining the arrangements after introducing me. 

Our ride to the airport was silent. I met Lestat's mother and was with her company for 24 hours - even sharing a coffin with her. She felt like an old friend but Gabrielle had made it clear she does not intend to stay long. Her patience and tolerance for any sort of company was also brief. I was grateful to have met her albeit for a short amount of time as I’ve gotten to know a part of Lestat and felt closer to him. 

“Now don’t get too sentimental.” Her voice once again broke my train of thought as the car stopped in from the departure entrance. We both got out of the car and waited for the driver to retrieve her luggage. 

“I’m not.” I responded as nonchalantly as I could. 

Gabrielle let out a soft chuckle and handed the driver a generous tip. 

“Thank you.” 

I looked back at her confused by the sudden gratitude.  

“I haven’t kept up with my son’s affairs for many years. Thanks to you - and to Louis, I suppose - I’ve come to learn what happened to him during the time we were apart.” 

“Will you come see him?” I knew I was close to begging when I asked that of her. 

“I will. In due time.”  It was an answer alright.  “Well, I have a flight to catch Vina.” 

“Yeah… have a safe flight.” This was one of the most awkward goodbyes for me. 

“Look…” Gabrielle had a soft expression on her face when I met her stare. Those cobalt blue eyes were so intense even under the low light. 

“...if you get caught up with Lestat’s affairs - and you will -, if the men get too dramatic and too much that you have to leave, feel free to look for me.” 

She told me last night that she could sense that I was also a solitary creature just like her except I’m tied by my love for Lestat and my attachment as a musician. Looking back now, I get why she would say this.   

“Where, specifically?” I tried to suppress my smile at her offer. 

“You’ll find me in Africa. I am there.” 

Gabrielle broke into a wide genuine smile. It was so disarmingly charming because that was the first joyous smile I’ve seen from her. She looked exactly like Lestat that I almost grabbed to kiss her.   

“Okay, I'll hold on to your offer.” 

“Sure… but for now go back to him. You're safer with him.” That was her parting words as she adjusted her hat and walked inside the airport.  

Meeting Gabrielle was a brief but an impactful moment for me. I was able to get a glimpse of the kind of life another vampire could lead - a solitary vampire free from desires or expectations. I had a choice on where to take this vampire life if there was nothing waiting for me when I come back to New York. Gabrielle showed me the possibilities. I could go to Asia - reconnect with the motherland in the southeast or retreat somewhere in the mountains of Japan or Uzbekistan or any other undiscovered islands there.

But first, I had to go back to New York after my European stint. I enjoyed the luxury stay in the penthouse Gabrielle arranged for me. I didn’t go out for my last remaining nights in London as I got everything I needed there after transferring all my stuff from my hotel room as well as the stolen NHS blood bags. 

That piano in the living room gave me comfort, as I treated it as a reminder of Lestat. I made a little progress playing a simplified version of Blackbird, struggling at first to press the keys on time with my maimed hand. But for the first time, I felt a sense of accomplishment. The guitar was a whole other obstacle. Every time I see one, it would ignite all the intense feelings from my trauma. I was terrified of it but I also long to touch and play it. But once the reality of what I’ve lost would sink in, rage and despair would overpower me.  

I locked myself inside that penthouse, ignoring the whispers of my mortal musician friends looking for me, asking why I suddenly stopped seeing them. Even the butler was not allowed inside except when needed as I had to keep my stuff and blood bags hidden, until it was time for me to leave for Venice.  

I left all of the vampire-related books I bought during my stay in London and was left with a lone copy of Interview with the Vampire. The plan was to take the evening train to Paris and stay there for two nights where I visited the places Louis mentioned in the book - including the former boulevard du Temple, where Théâtre des Vampires burnt down from a fire - where Claudia, their daughter died. There was no trace or historical imprint that a theater was built there, all now erased by modern Paris. 

I was also relieved that there were no Paris covens or whispers in my head during my short time in Paris. I may have been naive about the talks since I learned to tune them out. 

Next thing I knew I was on my way to Venice. 

---------------------------------------------------------

“Why Venice?” Daniel asks and I can see his thoughts piecing information together. 

“Hmm…” I purse my lips, trying to remember what my original objective is. 

“It’s always been a dream of mine to visit Italy, and while I’m doing all that reading, Venice keeps coming up in vampire history. Sure, they might be works of fiction, but four or five different books mention it… so maybe there’s some real significance? But honestly, I’m mostly there for the Italian holiday - with a little history tour on the side.” I hesitantly look back at Daniel who is staring back at me with another suspicious look.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Venice, Italy

I had a week to savor my Venetian trip. I did all the touristy stuff - rode a gondola, watched an opera, took evening strolls along the Grand Canal. It made me appreciate the nights, - even though I was never a night owl when I was mortal - the evenings now seemed to breathe life into me. People swarmed Venice during the day. When I went to sleep just after sunrise, the streets swelled with the noise of tourists cramming their way through. But in the evenings, the city seemed to shed its skin and reveal its true charm. I could almost hear it exhale, releasing the sweltering chaos of the crowds. The moon illuminated the canal waters, with gondolas quietly docked at their posts. It was one of the first moments I truly appreciated my new being.

If there was a con to this holiday, it would be the food. I wanted to get an authentic taste of my favorite dessert, tiramisu, and traveled to Treviso where it was invented. I’ve always thought that it would taste different, that my tastebuds would somewhat still capture the taste I long for when I was human, but as I excitedly took a bite of that gorgeous tiramisu, I immediately vomited it right out and thought, " What a tragedy that was .” I always forget that mortal food tastes like cardboard, and even though the coffee still smells heavenly, the taste would always be like wet cement. 

The regret over food was just a miniscule inconvenience in my Italian holiday. Unlike in London, I didn’t socialize and was extra cautious of keeping to myself - wary of the presence of other vampires. I didn’t mind that I was in isolation once again. 

Venice was memorable because I had an epiphany - my first experience where the love for music and the possibility of playing again reignited my passion and desire. I would rise at the earliest turn of night and go on my usual walks when I came across a humble art shop tucked away on one of the quieter streets. The artist, painting a flawless dupe of Venus of Urbino, expertly guided his brush with his toes, both arms amputated at the elbows. I’d heard of painters creating perfect bootlegs of classic works before, but I was surprised to see one in Venice - and by a disabled artist, no less.

I stood there quietly watching this middle-aged man working on his canvas, and I could picture myself playing the guitar again and reuniting with my music. Because if this guy could recreate these gorgeous masterpieces with no more than his toes, I could do the same. I missed my guitar. I mourned for it like I lost a twin but the work of this Italian gentleman inspired me that I could resurrect this dead twin, just like how Lestat resurrected me. 

Overjoyed, I bought a piece from him - an angel playing a guitar - without knowing who the original painter was or what artwork he was replicating. The reason I chose it was obvious. I wanted a souvenir, a reminder that I could find my way back to my lost passion.

I was admiring the painting that I bought sitting in an al fresco cafe having a cig with one of my new vampire books I bought at the airport - The Vampire in Europe by Montague Summers . It was a Friday night and the streets were still quite busy but I didn’t mind hanging outdoors as I savored the quiet corner table I got for myself where I was looking at the artwork in peace and observing the people from a distance. 

“It’s a perfect copy of Rosso Fiorentino's Cherub Playing a Lute. A good choice.” 

Finally. 

The voice broke my little sanctuary and I could feel its presence occupying the seat in front of me. 

It must have been on my third night in Venice when I started feeling the weight of its watchful eyes. I was being extra careful with blocking my thoughts from other vampires that might be lurking nearby and although I felt I was being followed and watched, its presence would only last a few minutes and it would leave me alone for the rest of my night. 

But I guess, it couldn’t hide itself any longer and on the fourth night of following me, it finally made its presence known. 

I let out a slow silent exhale as discreetly as I could to stop the bubbling fear that was about to creep in me. 

Cautiously, I raised my eyes to finally meet the ‘stalker’ - the one from whom I felt a magnetic force, even stronger than what I’d experienced with Gabrielle. I blinked, trying to assess the creature before me. The sheer strength radiating from him didn’t match the youth of his appearance. He looked no older than his late twenties, with wavy black hair brushing just below his ears and deep mahogany skin glistening under the Venetian full moon.

His striking bright orange eyes stared at me with amusement as I stood there, jaw on the floor. He was so beautiful, it genuinely shocked me.

But along with the admiration came fear. I could feel his power - and a powerful being, following you for days without revealing their true intention, is undeniably terrifying. 

“Hold the fuck up.” Daniel raises his hand to interrupt me, his brows furrowing in confusion, triggering his resentment and anger.

“Are you saying you met-”

“I did.” I nod at him, pressing my lips together. The journalist shakes his head while rolling his eyes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not… he was there, following me for days…”

“That motherfucker.”

“What?” was all I managed to utter. I did catch what he said - at least now I knew who the original painter of my bootleg art was. But my question was more about the purpose of his presence.

He gave me a restrained smile, and I tried not to fumble in front of him as I rolled back the artwork, my gloved hands awkwardly struggling to fit it inside the tube. To my surprise, he snatched both the artwork and the tube from me, swiftly rolling it up and sliding it inside with practiced ease. He closed the lid securely and handed it back to me.

I didn’t move. I just stood there, still eyeing him with a mix of awe and fear.

Seeing this, he gently placed the tube on top of the table and leaned back in his chair, the amused look never leaving his face.

“Who are you?” I finally managed to ask.

He laced his long, ebony fingers on the table and leaned forward slightly.

“Armand.”

Suddenly, alarm bells went off in my head.

Wait… where had I heard that name before?

A vampire named Armand. It sounded so familiar.

I could feel him reading my thoughts - his head tilted slightly, his orange eyes squinting, as if waiting for me to piece it together.

I’d read so many books by this point, encountered so many names. But once I was reminded of Lestat, everything clicked.

Armand.

Louis.

Louis’ ex.

Lestat’s ex.

The five-hundred-year-old vampire who led the Paris trial that killed Louis and Lestat’s daughter.

Shit.

Without another word, I snatched the artwork from the table and bolted out of the café. I didn’t care if mortals saw how fast I moved - I just needed to get away from him. Far, far away.

Gabrielle’s warning flashed in my mind.

What were the odds of him being here? Venice, of all places.

Had he been tracking me even before I arrived?!

I ended up in a dark alley, panting, clutching the tube to my chest as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

“You forgot your book!”

I yelped in surprise. A flame flickered at the far end of the alley, slowly growing until it illuminated his face. Armand tossed the book at my feet. I immediately snatched it up, but as I turned and walked further down my side of the alley, my back hit a wall.

Fuck.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“Why are you running away?”

“I don’t know you. You’re a creep who’s been following me for days.”

“Fair point. What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

I couldn’t stop my heart from racing. This rascal-looking, half-a-millennium-old vampire radiated so much power - I knew I didn’t stand a chance.

Before he could take another step, I shut my eyes and bolted toward him, bumping into his body as I pushed past and sprinted through the streets, weaving between alleys and crowds. I ran and ran until I finally reached my lodging.

I slammed the door behind me, panting and sweating, and locked every bolt. I closed all the windows tight.

I tossed my clothes on the floor, too tired to change into sleepwear, and crawled under the bed. The covers that fully draped to the floor gave me a strange sense of security. Wide-eyed in the dark, I listened closely to my surroundings, trying to sense any strange presence or energy - any sign of him. Eventually, my exhaustion pulled me into sleep, and I felt relieved to realize I was truly alone.

The next night came quickly. I woke up naked under the bed - clearly, the stress and exhaustion from running away from that Gen Z tech-hipster-looking 500-year-old vampire had completely wiped me out. I decided then and there: I wasn’t going out tonight.

Scooting to the edge, I lifted the covers and crawled out. I stretched my neck, then made my way to the mirror.

“One thing about Lestat is his choice of fledglings. Pretty things attract pretty things, I guess.”

I caught the orange glint in the mirror and let out a scream as I whipped my head around. He was leaning against the closet. Some curls had fallen over one side of his face, with only one orange eye glowing eerily in my dimly lit room.

I stumbled backward, gasping as he slowly moved toward me. His eyes studied every inch of my bare body while I crawled away, my back pressing into the wall.

Armand sat at the foot of my bed, facing me. I shakily sat up, ready to accept whatever fate he had planned for me. 

He then tilted his head, glancing at my hand, his brows furrowed in curiosity before he sighed, slightly shaking his head with a resigned smile on his lips.

“A maimed turned into a vampire…” he muttered. “Some things never change…”

“What do you want?” I managed to whisper. I covered my body with my arms, raising my knees and pressing myself tighter against the wall.

“Your maker always had a great disregard for rules…” He tucked the rogue curls that had fallen over the side of his face, his orange eyes staring straight at me.

“I guess you already know who I am.” I could feel him inside his head, and I saw in his thoughts my image from last night at the café - me recognizing him from Louis’ book the moment he said his name.

“A-are you going to kill me too?”

He sighed when he saw Claudia in my thoughts. “You’re irrelevant in my life… so no. I have other things to take care of.”

That was… sassy of him. His answer confused me, but I also felt a small wave of relief. I tried to pry into his thoughts to glimpse these “other things” he mentioned, and he immediately shot me a brief, sharp look, blocking me instantly from his thoughts - but then smiled, looking intrigued.

“What do you want then?”

Armand stood up and dusted his baggy gray trousers, walking over to the other side of the bed where my new pile of books were scattered.

“Get dressed. Let’s go for a walk, Vina.”

I was startled to hear him say my name. He seemed sincere when he said he didn’t have any intention of killing me. At least half of my fears subsided, but I still couldn’t fully trust him after everything I’ve read from the book.

Despite the doubt, I did get up and went to the closet to put on some clothes. He was eyeing me up and down, watching my every move while I got dressed into a pair of jeans, a sleeveless crop top, and my parka jacket so I could hide my hand without using gloves -  while he mindlessly flipped through the pages of a book he got from my pile.

I tied my unruly curly hair into a bun and put on a pair of Crocs, to which I heard a loud exasperated eugh! from his thoughts. I turned to look at him with my eyebrows raised, and he just shrugged while staring at my choice of shoes and outfit disappointedly. I was super casual compared to his uptight black turtleneck, trousers combo with a pair of leather shoes that looked more mature than his youthful looks.

“Shall we?” 

Armand opened the door waiting for me to go ahead. Chivalry isn’t dead to this ancient vampire but I still didn’t trust him. 

“It’s okay, go ahead.” I motioned toward the door, and he chuckled to himself as he walked out of my room. I locked the door behind me and quietly followed him as we moved through the crowd, passing by the Cannaregio Canal until we reached a spot overlooking the Venetian Lagoon - quieter now, with little to no one lingering on the public benches, just the evening breeze, the gentle lapping of water against the shore, and the occasional plane passing overhead from the nearby airport.

Only a few lampposts lit the street, but the moon was at its fullest and brightest. A few local couples thought it romantic to make out in its shadows while admiring the free view.

Armand took a seat on one of the benches and gently patted the space beside him when he saw me still standing just a few inches away.

“No, thanks. I’m good.” I tucked my hands safely in my pockets as we both stared at the bright full moon reflected on the water.

“Why are you following me?” I wasted no time.

Armand stretched his arm on the backrest and stared back at me. His orange eyes were lighter with the moonlight’s reflection on it. 

“Let me make one thing clear. Lestat - your maker - reached out to me, asked if I’d seen his fledgling wandering about. And if I did, I was to convince you to return to him. So, really, I’m only here as a favor to him.”

“What?” I frowned because he didn’t make any sense. “Why would he do that?” 

Armand widened his eyes in slight disbelief. “...and why not?”

“You killed his daughter. Why would he send someone who killed his daughter to look for me?” 

He let out another exasperated sigh while rolling his eyes but then he turned back at me with a sudden soft look - his sigh sounded slightly defeated. 

“I’ve owned my part in what happened in Paris, that’s true… but when you’re a creature who’s lived hundreds of years, grudges lose their weight. In the end, you find a strange kind of comfort in those who’ve been there the longest - no matter what you’ve done to each other or what kind of relationship you share. Lestat is that kind of creature.” 

It was my turn to sigh and eventually sat beside him on that bench - my mind thinking of Lestat. I didn’t know he could be this forgiving? It’s hard to believe it. I didn’t even meet Claudia and I felt anger towards Armand because of what he did - I don‘t think I could be as gracious as Lestat if I was in his situation.  

“He was quite relentless about it - asking every vampire he knows if they’d seen you. Eventually, he managed to reach me, insisting that if I did, I should persuade you to return to him.”

Just like how Gabrielle found out about me, Lestat must have been desperate - searching for me everywhere. The guilt gnawed at me again. Just a few more days, Lestat.

“How did you find me?”  

“Venice was my home - you wouldn’t know that, of course, it wasn’t in Louis’ book - but I lived here for a long time. I returned to reflect, to reclaim fragments of a self I thought I’d lost. You being here… that was sheer luck. I only found you because I heard Lestat’s name in your thoughts.”

“Oh my god…” I really fucked it up. I should’ve never left. But now that I knew Lestat was looking for me, it eased some of the worry that he might not accept me when I return. It was a relief to know he’d been waiting for me.

“I don’t know what transpired between the two of you, or why he turned someone like you, bu- ”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snapped at him, but the little shit that he was, just disregarded it and kept talking.

“BUT I know that talks are loud because of this book, and somehow someone linked you with Louis and Lestat while you were gallivanting around London - and that posed a threat.”

“I wasn’t gallivanting in London.” 

He rolled his eyes at my answer, raking his dark curls with his fingers.

“Right… one thing you and Lestat have in common is your fondness for mortal friends. Haven’t you been indulging in your little trysts with those English musicians of yours - without much care for revealing your nature?”

I stared back at him, gasping that he’d just intruded on my memories that fast, without my consent.

“Get out of my fucking head!”

The next thing I knew, his stare locked with mine, and the world suddenly stopped - everything frozen in that very second. I held my breath; it felt like a vacuum when Armand invaded my memories, raking through them. All the worst things that had happened to me in the past two years whizzed by like a reel, and I was left helpless, unable to break free from his fucking hypnosis - I couldn’t move my body.

I let out a huge gasp of air the moment he let go of me and as I was catching my breath and realized what he did, I slapped him despite the fear that his retaliation might be my death. 

But he was not fazed when I hit him and stared at me once again - intently this time but it was more of him reflecting on what he saw.

“I needed to know why Lestat was so desperate to find you, why he cared so much. If I was to offer you any sort of protection, I needed a reason to do so.” 

“And did you find your fucking answer?” I snapped through gritted teeth. Before he could reply, I stood up from the bench, seething with anger, and stormed off.

“Where are you going?” Armand called out. “Vina!”

“I don’t need your fucking protection!” I barked without looking back. I could sense him behind me - not rushing, just keeping pace. He could’ve easily overtaken me with his height and long strides, but instead, he stayed just a few steps behind.

“Well, we need to stick together while you’re here. If the other vampires know you’re with me, they won’t touch you.”  

“Fuck off!” 

I remembered Gabrielle putting those insolent young vampires in their place, reminding them she was their elder. By that logic, I should’ve shown the same respect to Armand - he wasn’t just older than her, he was far more powerful.

But his invasive tactics paired with his arrogant youthful good looks, made me want to slap the shit out of him.

“I have a private villa nearby. It’s safe. Stay there until your flight back.”

I rolled my eyes at his offer, relieved that my hotel was just around the corner.

“No, thank you.”

Before I could even reach my door, Armand flashed in front of me. I didn’t even realize when he managed to steal my keycard, but there he was - swiping it on the handle and opening my room himself.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“If you don’t want to stay at my villa, suit yourself. I can stay here, in your humble hotel room.”

“Are you fucking for real?” I glared at him, infuriated by the ridiculous suggestion. But the look on his face told me he wouldn’t be deterred. I didn’t have enough power to stop whatever it was he wanted to do.

“Since you insist on staying here, I’ll adjust. It’s hardly the villa, but I’ve endured worse -for less compelling company.”

I bit my lip, trying to restrain myself, as if I had enough strength to turn him away. Why didn’t Lestat come fetch me himself? I’m guessing this dipshit hasn’t told him he found me in Venice yet.

Was he planning to keep me hostage? Use me as some sort of bargaining chip if he wanted something from Lestat? I mean, I never fully believed Lestat would just forgive him like that. Why was I being babysat in the middle of my holiday?

For all I knew, he might just be waiting for the perfect time to kill me in my sleep. Didn’t Daniel mention Armand could walk in the sun and mostly stay awake during the day?

I was starting to resent Louis for writing that damn book.

“Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care.”

I pushed past him to the door, huffing in annoyance as I angrily took off my jacket.

Armand locked the door behind him and happily flopped onto my bed, watching as I packed the art tube into my luggage, along with other trinkets I bought during my stay - trying to get ahead on packing before checkout.

“The night is still young, you know,” he said casually. “Venice is a beautiful city. I could show you around - with no need to worry about your safety. It’s a n - ”

“Aren’t you a millionaire? Multiple businesses? Daniel says so.”

There was a slight shift in his energy when I mentioned Daniel’s name. For a split second, the glint in his eye dimmed - something vulnerable flickering just beneath the surface - but it vanished just as quickly when he realized I noticed.

“Why waste your time on a runaway fledgling like me? Are you bored?”

That smug, youthful gleam returned to his face as he nodded, unapologetically amused.

“Yes, just bored. But also - you’re not just any fledgling. You’re Lestat’s. Him and I go way back. And since he asked a favor… consider this my IOU.”

I rolled my eyes and decided that it was best to endure it. I had a few more days left. I could pretend that I was enjoying a solo trip on my last days in Venice.

“Whatever. I’ll just pretend you’re not here.” 

“That will be quite a challenge for you. I’m not that easy to ignore.” 

I took off my clothes in front of him to prove a point - which, of course, made him break into that smug smile - and changed into my sleepwear. He was right, the night was still young, but I had no interest in going back out there. Not with this - what did Lestat call him in the book? Ah, gremlin - gremlin following me around.

I grabbed a book from the side of the bed, which Armand had pushed over so he could sprawl across it. He eyed me with that same amused look as I sat across from him on the small sofa near the dresser. 

“Do you mind if I borrow your iPad? I forgot mine at my villa.” 

I flipped through the pages of my book. I knew he was testing my limits - seeing how long I could ignore him. When I didn’t respond, he shrugged and shamelessly held the device in front of my face to unlock it with Face ID.

I nearly glared at him for the audacity, but the moment I saw his lips twitch into a smirk as the iPad unlocked, I reminded myself to stay calm.

We spent the rest of the night ignoring him as I read a book, and him going through my photos—though there was nothing useful for him. Most were just Juilliard snapshots, session videos, and the rest were photos of Lestat and me: Lestat with the piano, Lestat driving, the two of us playing music together.

I caught him staring intently at those Lestat photos just as I closed my book and began getting ready for bed.

“I noticed you don’t have a coffin…” Armand quipped.

I turned off all the lights and knelt beside the bed. He propped his elbow on the edge where I was kneeling, watching me curiously. I stared back at him blankly as I lifted the covers and crawled underneath.

“Hmm…” His head - upside down, with his curls falling to his neck - peeked through the covers to assess the space beneath the bed. “That’s quite a smart alternative.”

I didn’t answer him. I just closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.

“Well, good night then.” Armand said to no one. 

The room fell silent. I didn’t sense any movement or sound on top of the bed. Did he fuck off already? Or did he just fall asleep as well? Either way I couldn’t care less. 

I thought of what Armand told me at the lagoon earlier. How long had Lestat been looking for me all over the vampire vine? I guess the moment I left America and the book was released, Lestat began the search. For sure he’d read the book by now. Was he angry? Was he now looking for Louis that’s why he couldn’t bring himself here and instead ‘tasked’ this gremlin to watch over me and make sure I come home? 

I was getting riled up with my thoughts, but the longing for Lestat's company was overwhelming the bubbling anger. Over the past year since I left, I’ve accepted that the pain of losing my passion was something I would never overcome. But the time alone helped me accept my new vampire nature, develop my own habits and preferences, and gave me hope that there are other things I could look forward to - besides not being a musician - although that might be a slower process of acceptance.

I could look forward to seeing Lestat again and giving it another shot. I missed him. I missed his company, his outdated jokes, the pretty music he plays, his free spirit, those worst months when he didn’t leave my side and took care of me like I was family - I missed him so much.

I envisioned Lestat’s face and our first night together where he fucked me senseless, shamelessly draining me off my period blood. 

Under the secured darkness underneath my bed, I started touching myself with my sleep dress hiked up to my stomach, imagining my hand as Lestat’s. Whenever I slept and thoughts of him occurred, I would pleasure myself madly as I imagined his company. And after I exhausted myself through orgasm, there was often a strong urge to kill afterward. Sometimes I would go for a quick hunt just before dawn broke, but then there were times the sun had already beaten me to it and I had no choice but to sleep off my post-climax daze. 

I tried to control my breathing as I didn’t want the gremlin to hear anything. I gently rubbed my clit with the vision of Lestat’s ghostly fingers pleasuring me. His radiant smile made my fingers rub faster. I silently gasp as I inserted two of my fingers inside me, imagining the curls of my hair rubbing against my tits as Lestat’s wavy blonde locks. 

I couldn’t help but gasp as I felt the pressure on my clit pressing harder. The next thing I knew, I felt soft breathing against my neck, and my eyes snapped open amidst the darkness and saw his silhouette just beside me - his neon eyes half-open, staring at me, his breath softly matching the rhythm of my shaky breaths

With my pettiness in keeping up with my threat to ignore him, I didn’t let his presence faze me and continued touching myself. As each motion of my fingers on my clit became faster, my thoughts were invaded by Armand’s - he was looking into my thoughts of envisioning Lestat pleasuring me. I could feel him getting turned on, both by what I was doing and by the images of Lestat in my head.  

I ignored him and focused my thoughts on Lestat as I rubbed my fingers on my clit. I gasped shamelessly, louder this time, as I felt myself close to climax. Armand cupped my hand on my pussy with his palm, gently pried it away, and inserted his own fingers inside me. I let out another shameless gasp as he expertly moved his ebony fingers - gentle at first, but then quickly picking up pace, hitting the right spot. I felt tremors in my thighs and couldn’t help but grab onto his arm, my nails digging into his skin, whimpering as my orgasm came gushing out of my pussy and dripping down my leg.

I was panting, exhausted from the aftermath, still clutching his arm to my chest as I recovered my strength.

Armand gently removed his arm from my grasp, and despite the darkness, I could see traces of him lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking my juice clean. 

No further words were spoken as I felt him crawl out and the foam mattress weigh down as he lay back on it.

I laid back, staring at the mattress above me, while I fixed my dress and pulled it back down to my knees - speechless at what had just occurred.

“Did he just assault you?”

“I let it happen, Daniel. I consented to it.”

“Why?” There is a bit of indignation in his tone.

“I don’t know… I was in the middle of my longing for Lestat, and he had the audacity to take advantage of any situation. And I let him.”

Daniel rolls his eyes at my answer.

“Why, Daniel? Were you jealous?”

Before he could utter a sassy remark, the door opens- revealing Lestat, already in his pajamas, shirtless.

“Still in London, mon ange? ” 

“No, already in Venice babe.” I smirk at him which makes him roll his eyes. 

“Eugh. Armand?” 

“Yep.”

“Come immediately to coffin when you’re done, will you, my love? It’s almost dawn.”

“Will do, babe.” I beam at him while sending him a quick air kiss. 

He is about to shut the door when he remembers something. 

“Do you know Daniel? We’ll be traveling to Baltimore for tomorrow’s show by bus. You can do the interview there. ”

“Alright, interview at the bus then.” 

“Don’t take too long talking about Armand, my love.” Lestat teases and closes the door behind him.

“Glad you’ve calmed down, Daniel.” It's my turn to tease the old guy and smile at him. 

“Hardly. Go on, continue.”

I crawled out from underneath the bed and instantly saw Armand with a fresh set of clothes, sitting in the middle of the bed tinkering his own iPad. He must’ve gone out while I was sleeping and went back to his villa to change. 

“Good morning.” He teasingly greeted me.  

I just glanced at him and tied my hair into a bun. 

“How was your sleep?” I saw his eyes darted down in front of me insinuating what happened last night. 

“I don't want to talk about it.” I muttered. 

“Oh look who decided not to ignore me.” Armand grinning from ear to ear. He looked more boyish when he smiled like that, and his eyes were less menacing. 

“Do you ever sleep?” Since he insisted to grace me with his presence, perhaps being civil with him wouldn’t hurt. 

“Rarely.” He tossed the iPad to the side and crossed his fingers on his lap and stared at me expectedly. 

“Since we’re now on speaking terms. How about that tour?” 

 Ah fuck it. If he had desires to kill me, he could've done so when he was up in my dress last night. 

“What the hell, sure.” 

Just an hour after sunset, we were walking along Venice’s cobblestone streets and had reached the Carampane District in the San Polo Sestiere, where the famous Le Antiche Carampane restaurant is located. It was a quiet neighborhood, and we walked silently 

through the alleyways, where Armand seemed deep in thought.

“So… what about this place?” I broke the silence as we reached a small bridge. He seemed to snap out of his introspection, and we took a few steps forward until we were standing in the middle of the bridge.

“Ah yes… we’re standing on what used to be called Ponte delle Tette—the ‘Bridge of Breasts.’”

I raised an eyebrow when I heard the name.

“This was the whole red light district during my mortal youth.” 

Oh. It’s that kind of tour… There was a section from Louis’ book where Armand’s history was briefly mentioned. When I'm not reminded that he killed Claudia, I’d feel heartbroken by what he went through. No one deserved that ever. 

“I see… is this where you…?” 

Armand just nodded and motioned for me to follow him as we walked along the streets.

“Jesus…” I muttered under my breath. Do all vampires come from a traumatic past? I’m scared to know what Lestat endured before he was turned. 

“How young were you?”

“I can't remember now… fifteen? Maybe younger.”

“Young boys in this line of business… that is fucked up.” I shook my head in disbelief.

“Yes… are you genuinely naive? They still exist today, you know.” I stared back at him, horrified at how nonchalantly he said that. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. So I tried to match it with my own sarcasm, drowning my own feeling of dread and stopping myself from feeling sorry for him- for sure, he didn’t want that.

“I don’t know much about… ancient history. It doesn’t interest me.”

“It seems like you care about it now given your interest with all these vampire books you carry with you.” 

“That’s different…”

“You only cared about your music.” 

I nodded, casually shrugging my shoulders, and saw him pursing his lips in thought.

“There’s something quite pure about it I guess.” 

“Please get out of my head.” I bumped into him as I walked ahead of him.  

“So…what are the discoveries of a young vampire fledgling like yourself?” 

 Armand was just trying to make conversation at this point. I guess he didn’t want to continue the promised tour as he would be revealing more of himself. He didn’t even mention his maker - Marius, that was named in the book - and I didn’t have any plans of asking him further since I still don’t trust him. 

“Well for one, the sex is amazing.” 

 We were walking along crowds heading to Teatro de Fenice just to check out the showing schedule.  

“Care to elaborate?” 

I slightly rolled my eyes at him. “What was there to elaborate, really? Didn’t you know this already?” I mean, didn't he implied in the book that he and Lestat fucked? 

Armand just shrugged “I’d like to hear your perspective” 

“Sex with Lestat as a human was already beyond insane. But to fuck him as a vampire with more or less the same strength and you bring the blood drinking into the equation - the orgasm is mind-blowing, almost close to a spiritual experience. Like the first time I’ve watched Tame Impala with an orchestra live while on an acid trip.”

“Lestat is a really generous lover. I don’t think sex with him would be anything less than spectacular, vampire or not.”

I felt Armand puff his chest slightly, his eyebrows lifting in irritation. The Lestat praise must have struck a nerve.

“That happens to be a specialty of mine,” he said coolly.

I blinked at him, feigning confusion.

“The what?”

“Seduction. And sex,” Armand replied casually as he glanced over the list of upcoming shows at the opera house.

I couldn’t help but scoff.

“Are you trying to fuck me?”

“That depends…” he said, side-eyeing me with a faint, amused smirk. “One of us has to say yes,” 

I laughed, knowing full well that no amount of Armand’s supernatural beauty could distract me - because I could only think of him.

Armand tilted his head toward me, the playful smirk softening into a quiet, thoughtful smile.

“You worship him,” he said - not with jealousy, but with a mix of faint annoyance and the resigned understanding that it was impossible not to adore someone like Lestat.

We were in the corner outside of the theater when Armand suddenly bit me. I was too stunned to react when he briefly drank from me, especially since we were out in public. The moment he pulled away, my instinct was to immediately slap him - and that I did.

I was in so much confusion, and I couldn’t explain it - it didn’t feel right. I felt violated? Only Lestat had drunk from me before.

“What the fuck was that?” I held on to my neck after he quickly healed it, and Armand could only mumble, “I couldn’t help it.”

I looked at him and checked our surroundings to see if anyone noticed. I was a bit lightheaded from the sensation, but also from the confusion between pleasure and being horrified.

“Now, that was assault, Daniel. I’d only met a few vampires during that time, and he was the only one who drank from me. In the world of vampire etiquette, I didn’t know it was assault at the time. Your maker isn’t really big on consent, is he?”

Daniel remains tight-lipped and has been on edge throughout this whole Armand section. 

We were back to silently walking along the streets blending in with the crowd as I was still left reeling on the sudden drink he did. He must’ve sensed the brewing discomfort within me.

“How many days do you have left here in Venice?” 

“I don’t know…about three or four days.” I replied without looking at him.

“You can take my private jet tomorrow and have you arrive in New York before dawn.” 

I quickly stop in my tracks by the sudden tempting offer. What was this? His way of apologizing? 

He slightly rolled his eyes and sighed when he sensed that I thought he might be bullshitting. 

“No strings attached. It’s not an IOU. It’s free. Let the man out of his misery and come home to him.”   

“That…that would be nice.” 

Armand smiled, looking relieved I accepted the offer. 

“Alright then. I’ll have it arranged. Someone will pick you up at the airport so you can safely travel in the dark.”

“Thank you.” 

I gave him a small smile of gratitude, also relieved that I can go back soon. 

Armand didn’t insist on his presence after that and left me alone as I did all my packing. The next time I saw, he picked me up from the hotel and made our way to the airport and to the private terminal where his jet was parked. 

“It was lovely meeting you, Vina.” Armand extended his hand and I shook it but did not supply any answer. My whole experience with him had me on edge, so I wasn’t sure if it was exactly pleasurable. 

“Thank you.” My gratitude was sincere though. I couldn’t wait to get back to New York, and  to Lestat.

“If you ever have the urge to flee again, come over to Night Island.” He took out a black card with gold inscriptions on it - Night Island, Miami - and a qr code to scan the address. 

“It’s safe there, no one would harm you. Not on my watch.” 

“You are being extra generous.”

“I like you. You’re simple and y—” I scoffed at his somewhat backhanded compliment, but he interrupted me before I could say anything. “…you’re pure. I could see why Lestat gravitated towards you, apart from your incredible gifts and beauty. It’s rare to not have any malice or hidden agenda nowadays.”

“I’m not sure I like you yet.”

Armand just chuckled and gently pushed me inside the plane.

“We’ll see each other soon, Vina. Perhaps you’ll like me by then.”

“Thank you, Armand.” 

He gave me another rare toothy grin before he disembarked from the plane. That was the last I saw of him. 

---------------------------------------------

We landed in New York at around three o’clock in the morning, and I was escorted to a private lounge to wait for the car that would drive me to Lestat’s house. It was still dark outside when I took a peek.

There were a few people inside the private lounge, meant for passengers arriving on their own private planes. As I waited for my service, I noticed a handsome guy standing near one of the couches, looking out the window. He was eye-catching with his muted yellow coat, his small face, curly hair, chocolate skin, and snazzy sneakers—like one of those young, handsome trust fund babies residing in hipster Brooklyn. His head turned in my direction, and I was startled to see his striking green eyes. I immediately diverted my gaze.

Was he a vampire? I tried to calm my thoughts and my breathing. Did he see my eyes?

I slowly turned back to look at him and saw that he was still watching me. We locked eyes for a good couple of seconds before I was escorted to the limo waiting for me. It didn’t escape me - the realization that I had unnaturally amber-red eyes, and the hint of recognition in his expression - which confused me.

The limo Armand had arranged had full blackout windows and doors, which made me feel protected in case dawn was already peeking in.

My heart was pounding as we stopped in front of Lestat’s apartment. The sky was still dark, and I dropped all my luggage at his front door. It immediately swung open before I could ring the bell, and Lestat came crashing into me with a bone-crushing hug.

I let out the biggest sigh of relief, breathing in his scent - his hair, his skin. We were both sobbing like idiots at his front door, and without another word, he began showering me with kisses - making me yelp as he started stripping off my clothes while we were still outside.

“Stop… babe, my luggage,” I giggled, which only earned frustrated growls from Lestat as he began tossing my things inside the house. I glanced toward the street and noticed a black car parked a couple of blocks away—one I didn’t remember being there. But the thought was quickly forgotten the moment Lestat pulled me inside and slammed the door shut.

---------------------------------------------

“Here you go, Daniel.” I hand him the Night Island card Armand gave me. 

“I don’t need it…so I figured you might need it.” I’m eyeing him as he inspects the card and quietly stuff it in his pocket. 

“So, this is a wrap?” Daniel asks. 

“Yeah, for now.” I stand up from my seat and one of the crew immediately helps me remove my mic pack. 

Daniel seems exhausted from that whole Venice thing. Armand is the only one occupying his mind now. I do not need to bring it up since he gave me a sharp, knowing look when I'm reading his thoughts. 

“Good talk, Daniel. Good night.” I pat his arm as I saunter my way out of the room to rush to Lestat upstairs.  

 —---------------