Archive of Our Own ^beta

Realistically, Daniel knew his luck would have to run out sooner rather than later. The relief at likely being the first human to escape not one but three vampire attacks in a row soon turned into a lingering sense of doom. Some days he looked up at the ever-changing sky and expected to see a blade hovering above him, waiting for a signal to come down and guillotine him. 

His pocket money had all but depleted by the time he’d hit Atlanta. The first half went into the nightly profits of a New Orleans bar, the second half into the greedy hands of a pickpocket at a gas station. Not that Daniel could blame the kid, if his situation got any more dire, he’d start eyeing other people’s possessions too. So far, he’d managed to subsist on the few gallons of gas and a handful of nickels left to him, carrying him between obscure towns along the 85 until the gas indicator inside his borrowed Buick had sunk deep into the red.

The place where his luck ran out didn’t even have a proper name as far as Daniel could tell. Its identifiable traits were a sad little creek, a string of fast food restaurants, and two cheap hotel inns staring each other down on opposite sides of the road. A fine example of good-old American liminal space: everybody passed through, but nobody stayed to till the soil or bequeath any kind of meaning to it. Just parking lot, after parking lot, after parking lot…

Yawning, Daniel dragged his feet to the McDonald's and begged for a free coffee from the kid behind the cash register before parking himself in a warm booth by the window. Turned out that he’d at least managed to make it out of Georgia, which did little in terms of lifting his spirits. South Carolina or not, he was still stuck at rock bottom with no way to pay for lodgings or transport to the nearest city centre. 

He should have driven in the other direction. At least exposure to the elements in the New Mexico desert would have spelled a quicker end than getting stabbed in a McDonalds parking lot for money he didn’t possess. He blamed it entirely on the alcohol he’d consumed before braving the interstate. When he’d gotten wise to his mistake, turning the car in the direction of California felt like too much of a waste. Ride or die, Molloy.

Where had that optimism gone? Daniel rested his head on top of his folded arms and stared down at the surface of the table, slightly greasy from a previous occupant’s meal. He should be coming up with a plan on how to get out of this mess but the lingering fatigue and intense darkness outside was making it hard to think beyond the pressing need for sleep. Perhaps he should just cave and sell the Buick for cash. There was bound to be at least one car enthusiast roaming this concrete jungle, although Daniel estimated his chances of being ripped off as moderately high right now. His eyes drooped at the idea of a warm bed, and the relative safety of a low-budget hotel became a more attractive prospect by the minute. If only he could get some real shut-eye… 

The world grew dim and skipped a beat.

Irritated, he shook himself back into wakefulness and turned his head to stare out of the window. What else could he do besides getting swindled out of his last few possessions? There had to be some kind of solution that he was looking past.

Outside the restaurant window, a truck rolled into the parking lot with its high beams on, temporarily blinding Daniel as it came to a stop a couple of yards away. The lights dimmed as the doors opened, goodbyes exchanged in raised voices – clearly having a much better night than him. He blinked away the spots in his vision quickly enough to catch a woman exiting the truck, a white leather mini-dress skirting up within dangerous territory as she nimbly hopped onto the asphalt, kitten heels notwithstanding. In her right hand, she clutched a bulging envelope that she quickly stuffed into the top of her dress before going over to the front of the truck. The passenger side window rolled down and a man leaned out to kiss her filthily. As he watched the two suck face for an uncomfortably long stretch of time, an idea finally came to him.

If he took a step back and looked at his situation objectively, selling the Buick did not make half as much sense as selling himself. Getting back to San Francisco would be much more straightforward with a car; it being the most reliable form of transport he had access to out here. Moreover, it wasn’t like he’d never done it before… Okay, maybe sucking off a few guys in exchange for a story or drugs wasn’t quite on the level with actual prostitution, even if it proved he had very little hang-ups left.

With a great roar of its engine, the truck swerved back onto the road. Daniel pretended to follow its tail lights until they disappeared behind the bend while observing the woman from the corner of his eye. How good was business around here? Would she pick up another client or end the night with a nice profit? The first seemed likely, the night was still young enough for all kinds of mischief. 

Striding into the light of the restaurant windows, she lit up a cigarette and considered her surroundings. Her long auburn hair had been twisted up in a bun, some fly-aways framing high cheekbones and a pouty mouth. Her eyes were dramatically lined in kohl, which made her appear equal amounts sweet and mysterious. However, as Daniel catalogued her features, he could see the perfect front crumble bit by bit, confusion with just a tinge of fear peeking through. She looked as lost as he felt.

A twinge of sympathy broke through his exhaustion as he watched her dig into her purse and fold out a map of all things, sporadically looking around to check for landmarks. Either her client had been a major dick and simply left her out in the middle of nowhere, or she had no immediate place to go to. On any other day, Daniel might have offered her a ride but with the Buick sitting uselessly at the gas station…

Suddenly, an idea burst into existence at the back of his mind. She had money and required transportation someplace else, and he had a car that he either needed to sell or get money to buy gas for. Daniel was up and out of the booth before he’d even consciously decided to go through with the plan, thoughts already whirling in an attempt to phrase the proposition in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a total creep. 

Raking a hand through his tousled hair to make it more presentable, he first tried on a peppy smile but then realised that would have the opposite effect of what he wanted. Being perceived as a threat would probably buy him a night in jail, which was a place to rest his head but not the type of environment he’d feel safe doing so in. 

Maybe showing some of his actual exhaustion would garner a better response. According to his former teachers, sincerity was one of his stronger suits, although his dad had often bemoaned the fact that Daniel could never keep his mouth shut when the situation called for it. Daniel wondered if the old man was still alive, or if he’d drunk himself into a stupor and driven right into a tree. He’d never received an invite for a funeral, but that wasn’t unusual for the Molloy Family, where disagreements were buried beneath a layer of cold shoulders and strained silences. Daniel promised himself that he’d make the effort to call home when he got some extra pocket change. First, he had to make sure that his funeral wouldn’t be the next one that nobody got invited to. (His mom would show up, maybe.)

Stepping outside, he shivered in the cold breeze that immediately penetrated through his jacket. Yet another thing he hadn’t properly accounted for when he decided to travel. He quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets and gingerly moved into the woman’s line of sight. Unsurprisingly she clocked him immediately, but as she didn’t tell him to fuck off immediately, Daniel took that as a sign to proceed.

‘Hi,’ he began, clearing his throat awkwardly. ‘You’re looking a little lost.’ He winced internally, yep, not creepy at all.

To his credit, she did not run for the hills, just eyed him apprehensively over the map she held up like a shield. ‘What do you want?’

‘You need a car?’

He practically saw her opinion of him plummet. ‘Like a ride? Don’t do that with strange men I meet in parking lots.’

‘No, like an actual car.’

Her expression turned from hostile to confused. ‘Huh?’

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘Look, I’m really hard up. If you want a car, I’ve got a Buick that could be yours for however much you want to give. I just want to get a place to sleep, a hot meal, and a ticket to the next city.’ He showed her the keys, jingling them a little. 

‘You’re… something ,’ she said, but she seemed to be considering his offer, because she began to fold the map up, shoving it inside her purse. ‘No strings attached?’

He shook his head. ‘None whatsoever. Though I would appreciate a recommendation on a cheap place to stay at.’

Quirking an eyebrow, she clucked her tongue. ‘Fine. I’ll give you eight hundred and my discount at a nearby hotel. Go to the Holiday Inn and tell the front desk that Francesca owes you, they’ll give you a room at a discount.’

It wasn’t as much as he’d hoped, but it was still a dozen times better than what he had in his pockets right now. ‘Alright.’

‘Where’s the car?’ she asked, motioning for him to toss her the keys. He very nearly fumbled the throw, but regained some cool as he gave her directions to the parking lot and the number plate, which she memorised on the spot.

Finally, she dug out the envelope from the bodice of her dress, counted the bills and pressed them into his hand before dashing away from him, purse and keys clutched tight.

‘Thanks!’ He called after her retreating form. She never once glanced back to check if he was following her, and he stayed outside long enough to spot the Buick leaving the gas station with her behind the wheel. Then, he went back inside and asked the kid where the Holiday Inn was supposed to be. Seemed like his personal tank of luck was filling up again.

The Holiday Inn had a covered rotunda in front of the entrance where taxis could pull up and drop off their passengers without being bothered by the weather. At this time of night, it was quite dark with the only light coming from the double doors leading to the lobby and the burning end of a cigarette that a fellow guest was smoking outside. Daniel stole a glance at the lean figure lounging back against one of the support pillars but decided not to waste any time by being overly friendly. The guy probably just wanted some quiet to end the night. He entered the lobby, which seemed surprisingly clean, and sorted out the details of his stay with the front desk. Francesca was good on her word, he got the room at half-price. He felt lightheaded with relief at the sight of the bed, which looked clean and warm. 

Twenty minutes later found him in a bathroom, splashing water in his face to clear away the shaving cream that had come with a complimentary room kit. He looked fresher than before. Still, he’d need a ton of sleep to get rid of the dark bags underneath his eyes. Not the most handsome mug by a long mile but serviceable, at least.

He grinned despite himself. ‘Daniel, you are the luckiest son of a gun this side of the Mississippi, and let no one tell you different.’

‘Are you sure?’ An accented voice broke through his reverie, drawing all the warmth out of the room in a great rush. ‘I rather thought you were the most unfortunate creature I ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes upon.’

A scream died in his throat as his body was dragged from the bathroom by invisible strings. His shoulder hit the door frame on the way out and he was sent flying to the floor where he rolled until he was smashed against the side of the bed face-first. A crunch and a rush of wetness ran down the side of his face as he collapsed, whimpering, fingers scrambling for some purchase in the carpet. Fear raged through him like a fire, echoes from months past flickering against the back of his closed eyelids. This shouldn’t be happening, he’d done nothing wrong, he’d only listened !

Somebody inhaled heavily above him, all simmering fury waiting to be unleashed. ‘Cowering before the storm, fascinating boy? How utterly pathetic.’ A kick to his ribs knocked the air out of his lungs and sent him sprawling onto his back. He didn’t dare open his eyes, terrified of who he’d find looking back. It wasn’t real until he’d gazed into those eyes, yawning portals to oblivion. 

‘Look at me!’ The vampire Armand screamed and Daniel felt the entire room reverberate with the power of it. His eardrums rang as blood from his broken nose steadily pooled into his mouth, and understanding the vampire’s demands became impossible. In San Francisco his anger had been a restrained, almost calculated thing, every elaborate torment leading to a grand finale. In those five days, Armand hadn’t raised his voice at him a single time, but now he used it like a sledgehammer, driving him deeper into the grimy carpet. This was something else entirely.

With a choked noise of pain, he shook his head vehemently. ‘No, please no.’ He couldn’t raise his arms in time to protect his midriff from another kick. He could feel a rib snap and rend through tender flesh. Daniel barely recognised his voice as his screams joined Armand’s in a morbid chorus. They rose to a crescendo, then gave out in tandem. 

The silence was deafening. In it Daniel could feel the blood leak out of him on the faltering beat of his heart. A metallic scent perfumed the air, bringing with it an odd, chilly sensation that slowly spread from inside his stomach. He blinked his eyes open and saw the room spin.

Laughing hoarsely, Armand stooped over him, dark and lustrous. If all forms of death looked this good, Daniel would have tried to throw himself off the Golden Gate Bridge years ago. The thought flitted from him to the vampire, who crushed it in a mental fist. The gentle psychopomp from San Francisco was but a bittersweet dream.

‘If you’d been a better listener, dear Danny,’ he said, voice sweet as poison. A clawed finger split the fabric of Daniel’s T-shirt, exposing a mangle of flesh and bone. ‘You would not be in this position. What were you trying to prove by throwing yourself upon Lestat’s mercy? A last act of friendship dedicated to your vampiric muse?’ A scornful laugh that drove spikes into Daniel’s brain. ‘Well, tough luck. Louis is in the fucking ground thanks to you! Lestat will never find him now. You ruin everything you touch, Daniel Molloy.’ 

The words were triumphant, but Daniel could sense the brittleness of them through the haze of pain. Here was a house, ready to be blown over by any passing storm. He gritted his teeth and spluttered through the blood and mucus. ‘I didn’t ruin your life, asshole. You did all that yourself.’ He barely managed to raise his head from the floor but felt a surge of pride nonetheless. Two could go in for blood. ‘I bet Louis feels a shit-ton happier now, finally freed from your constant badgering. You suck all the air out of the room and then wonder why people run away.’

Above him, Armand grew still, anger folding back upon itself until he was nothing but an expressionless mask. Even the blaze in his eyes gained a lifeless quality to it, like Daniel was talking to somebody who didn’t really exist outside of the devouring nothingness he represented. Daniel almost faltered at the abruptness of the change but recovered quickly as the pain fuelled his adrenaline and anger.

‘Hey, you don’t get to shut me out when you don’t like what I’m saying!’ He didn’t quite know what possessed him, lashing out to grab the vampire by the bony ankle and shaking with all his might. Something inside him tore further, a fresh river of red flooding down to the carpet. They’d never get the stain out.

A shudder went to the vampire as he returned to himself, ire softening into irritation. ‘You can’t hurt me. You don’t even have the strength left to crawl away.’

Daniel grinned, feeling feral at the implicit challenge. ‘My mind holds up better than my body.’

‘Evidently,’ Armand cocked his head to the side in deliberation. However, Daniel wasn’t done. If this was his last night on Earth, he had a metric ton of shit he wanted to say before the lights went out.

‘All these pretenses you’ve cooked up to kill me,’ he spat at the vampire, holding on to his ankle like it was a buoy carrying him across the ocean. ‘Fall apart once you unpack that you do not start or end with Louis, so stop pretending he’s the support beam of your entire existence and I robbed you of him. He was Lestat’s all along and you simply can’t deal with it.’

Armand pulled a face of exaggerated boredom, examining his nails for show. ‘I do not wish to converse with you.’

‘Well, tough luck,’ he parrotted the vampire’s earlier words. ‘I’m not shutting up unless you drain me dry.’ That got his attention. 

Faster than Daniel’s eyes could follow, Armand crouched down beside him and dug a claw into the open wound at his side, agitating the bone. His lip curled in derision as he lifted the bloody appendage to taste the blood. ‘You’re nothing more than a greedy boy, constantly grasping for things you cannot have. Love, acceptance, immortality. You are unworthy of these gifts.’

Daniel forced himself to meet the vampire’s gaze head-on. ‘And you are unqualified to cast judgement upon me.’

‘That remains to be seen.’  Armand’s eyes filled with speculation as he absently put his finger into his mouth, lapping at it like a piece of candy. Daniel felt ashamed at the interest that stirred in him. Dying and horny, the Daniel Molloy story. 

The corners of Armand’s mouth drifted upwards. Shit.

Popping his finger free with an obscene noise, the vampire brought his wrist up to his mouth and bit deeply. Blood, a darker red than Daniel’s, gushed to the surface and spilled onto the carpet where the two mixed. Daniel gasped at the sight of it, thoughts racing to catch up to Armand’s intentions. 

‘Let this encounter serve as a reminder,’ Armand spoke slowly, drawing out the moment into eternity as Daniel panted on the floor, some animal part of him thirsting for the blood. ‘Should I become aware of you pursuing immortality through any means, I will hunt you down and twist your body until your innards become acquainted with the sunlight. You will never have any reprieve from my torment. Do you understand?’

A dangerous flash of fang in the light of the bathroom door filled Daniel with a giddy kind of anticipation. ‘Already looking forward to it, asshole.’

‘Then take it,’ Armand commanded as rich blood rained down on his face. Daniel caught the first drops on his tongue and moaned. ‘And become hale again.’

You can’t outrun Death.

Watch me.