Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing beneath the singularly harsh and flickering light of his small, cramped bathroom, Daniel Molloy was staring fixedly at his own reflection in the cracked mirror which hung lopsidedly on the chipped tiled wall. His pale green eyes were fixed on the bite mark on his neck, mostly healed by now but defiantly going to scar. Some of the softer tissue was still sore and sensitive to his probing fingers, and even the skin a little pink in places. Daniel leant in closer, squinting slightly as he prodded at the visible indentations and outlines of the teeth and, even more horrifyingly, the fangs that had bitten him.   

Daniel let out a sudden and pained hiss, his head throbbing as the images of a dark yet intimately familiar room on Divisadero Street flashed in startling clarity before his very eyes. He could still see the windows boarded up with newspaper, the TV standing in the corner, and the man… but not a man, no, the monster, the vampire, Louis do Pointe du Lac. He’d been so suave and mysterious at first, the veteran of many wars, and Daniel had been drawn to him like the hapless moth to the burning flame. Then it’d all gone wrong, and so fast too. One minute they’d been innocently joking like old friends, and the next…

The piercing impossibility of sharp fangs in his neck like the stabbing of twin blades. Standing in his bathroom, Daniel loudly gasped, his eyes flying open as he clung on tightly to the edge of the sink, his knuckles whitening painfully from the squeezing pressure of his grasp. It was like he was back there and it was happening to him all over again, always knowing the ending but just as helpless to stop it as he was before. The fear, the deafening pounding of his heart and blood, his life being drained out of his weakening body - an endless repeating cycle of suffering.

Daniel was trembling all over now, but he barely noticed it due to the horrendous roar in his ears which drowned out all other senses. The hair on his pale and clammy skin was rising as his chest heaved with each breath he had to fight to take. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead as more trickled down his bare back, his shirt hanging on a nearby railing. He’d only come in here to take a shower, and now he was lost, lost in the past with no-one around to pull him out. 

Gradually he became aware of a noise, distant at first, but soon loud and piercing. As shrill as it was, it still lay somewhere in the far edges of his consciousness. Daniel desperately clung to that sound, annoying as it was, as it became his only life raft in a stormy sea. Slowly it dragged him back to the present and returned him to reality. He looked at his reflection, eyes wide and fearful, but at least now he was firmly safe and sound in his own home again. He saw himself frowning. The noise, what was that damn noise? Like a drunken man, Daniel stumbled into the main room of his apartment, walking towards the source of the commotion. Ah, of course. The telephone.

Daniel picked up the receiver with a still shaking hand and brought it up to his ear. He was not expecting any calls today, and that simple fact made him nervous. Just like everything seemed to make him nervous these days.   

“Hello?” He asked, his voice rough and hoarse from disuse. “This is Daniel Molloy speaking.”

“Danny, my darling boy, how are you?” His mother chirped happily down the line at him, utterly innocent and oblivious to his current state of existence. “I know we haven’t spoken in quite a while, but oh, do I have some fantastic news for you! Ah, but do assure me that everything is alright with you first. I know you were in a bit of a, how shall I put it? A bit of a dark place when we last spoke, but you do know that I worry, and your father too, even if he doesn’t show it all that often.”

Daniel couldn’t help the grimace that stole across his face. He hadn’t spoken to a single member of his family in well over a year now, and that last time, that ‘dark place’ his mother was referring to had been when they’d found out about his drug problem and, instead of helping him like he’d hoped and begged that they would, they’d simply cast him aside, telling him not to come back home again until he’d sorted himself out. Well, if only they knew how much darker things had gotten since… 

Keeping that in mind he felt no urge to tell her the truth now, the trust he’d once had severed forever. “I’m, uh… fine.” He lied, quickly going on to say, “How are you and Dad anyway, and what’s this good news all about?”

It was an extremely cheap trick to distract her with questions to avoid answering hers, he knew that, but a small piece of him was still stuck in Divisadero Street and the last thing he wanted was to fall back into that place. He needed the distraction of his mother’s voice, feeling like no more than a scared little boy as he desperately clung onto the phone until his knuckles ached and the plastic creaked.

As she spoke he blissfully closed his eyes, letting the words wash over and numb his troubled mind. “Oh, we’re doing fine. Your father recently got a promotion at work and I’ve started my own book club. The chairwomen of the old one, well, she simply had the worst taste in books. All this political nonsense, you probably would have loved it, Danny, but all I want is some nice romance novels, you know?” His mother suddenly laughed, high and fake, and then gasped excitedly. “Speaking of romance, let me tell you the good news all ready!”

Daniel held back a sigh as he slowly sunk down into the small chair placed by the phone. Beside it sat an old wooden side table with a few notebooks, post-its, and pens on top. He picked up one of the pens now, twirling it between his fingers before absently beginning to doodle away on a scrap piece of post-it.

“Your Aunt Sarah, you must remember her? The one with the blonde hair?”

“Mhm.” Daniel hummed, barely listening and instead allowing himself to simply drift. 

“Well, you’re never going to believe this, but she’s getting married next month! Word is that she met some big hot-shot director out in Hollywood and they’re planning this beautiful beach wedding down by the coast.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Oh, it will be! She’s shown me her dress all ready and it’s just stunning, Danny, absolutely stunning.”

“Mhm.”

“Anyway, she told me to let you know she’ll be sending out your invitation soon, and I also think she mentioned something about including a plus one in there as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes. You see, I told her that I didn’t exactly know if you had a girlfriend or not, but then she pointed out that such a handsome young man such as yourself was sure to have met someone by now, and I really hope she’s right. The idea of you being all alone in that big city worries me, you know? Danny… I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?”

“No, ‘course not.”

“Really? Oh, that’s just wonderful! Please tell me all about her, oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Huh?”

Daniel froze, pen in hand, as his mind quickly snapped to attention, desperately backtracking over the last few exchanges until he realised what he’d just inadvertently confirmed. The truth was he had no loving and adoring girlfriend to keep him company and he was, in fact, totally alone in life. His only companion recently had been the terrifying memories of Divisadero Street and Louis de Pointe du Lac, with relationships being the furthest thing from his mind. Besides, with this hideous scar on his neck, who’d ever want him now?

Thankfully, before he needed to come up with a response, his mother spoke again. “Dang it, Danny, hold that thought. Your fathers calling for me. Look, I’m sure we’ll talk again before the wedding and you can tell me all about her then, okay? Bye, bye, darling!”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Daniel mumbled before the line went dead and a tonal noise echoed in his ear. “Bye, I guess.” 

With a sigh he put the phone back into its cradle and ran a tired hand down his weary face. What the hell was he supposed to do now? At least he had a whole month to try and sort this shit out in, but really, he had far bigger problems than some stupid wedding for an aunt he barely remembered. His constant nightmares and declining mental health were only the tip of the iceberg as he was certain that, not only was Louis still out there, but he was also trying to hunt Daniel down.

Bodies had been turning up every two or three days since his escape from Divisadero Street, and each and every one of them had looked just like him. Young men with green eyes and curly brown hair, all of them a similar build and height to himself, and all frequent attendees in and around San Francisco’s various queer scenes. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what was happening. Louis was absolutely searching for him, and Daniel didn’t know how long he had left before the vampire eventually found him. 

Shaking himself from that thought, Daniel finally looked down at the post-it note he’d been lazily doodling on, only to shudder violently at what he saw. Two piercing eyes were staring back at him, intense and burning directly into his soul. He didn’t recognise them, but the yellow of the paper gave them an eery, inhuman quality. He thought again of Louis and his beautiful but too-vivid green eyes. His drawing was not of those eyes but of somebody else’s, a person he could not recall. With a small noise of distress, Daniel quickly screwed up the drawing and chucked it away. Life was steadily spinning out of control, and he felt his skin itching with the familiar need for a fix.

Instead he got up from his chair and stomped stubbornly back into the bathroom. A shower was what he really needed, a scolding hot shower to burn away the memories of Louis’ cold dead hands all over his body, and of his razor sharp claws cutting into his flesh as he drained him dry. Daniel stripped off his jeans and boxers and stepped into the small unit, turning the water temperature up as high as it would go. He soon sighed in relief, tilting his head back against the tiles as hot steam billowed up all around him.

It didn’t take long at all for a strange sense of peace to settle over him, and for his eyes to slip shut as the water beat down like a thunderstorm. He was warm and safe with nothing but the lingering taste of honey on his tongue as he let his mind replay the events of that fateful night, but this time from a different angle. He didn’t linger on the terror or the fear, but rather on that sharp bite of ecstasy that had followed soon after, a buzzing euphoria that had felt unlike anything else he’d ever known. Daniel shuddered as, just as with every time he did this, he felt his cock beginning to stir.

This had been his secret shame ever since Divisadero Street. Something dark and twisted had awakened inside him in that place, and he didn’t know what is was. His memories were still frustratingly hazy, the space between when Louis had pounced on him to when he’d woken up in that drug den nothing but a black hole of emptiness. Sometimes, only rarely, he’d get blurry flashes of somebody else having been there. Brown skin, fingers long and elegant, a soothing voice and hands softly cradling his teary face as whoever it was spoke kindly words of reassurance. Eyes, orange eyes like the most stunning of sunsets that had enraptured him completely. Had it been another vampire? Daniel wished that he could recall. 

Back in the present his hand slid slowly down over his belly, finding his cock of its own accord and gripping it tightly. His breath stuttered in surprise as he gradually began to stroke himself to full hardness, his pleasure taking on a terrible mind all of its own. The bite, the bliss, the cool warmth of another holding him close. He chased that high, stroking himself faster and harder, the memory just out of reach. He felt the pressure building, his recollections starting to clear, he was there, he was right there…

Daniel cried out as he came, sticky and wet and straight down into the gurgling drain of the shower. At some point he’d leant forward, hunching over with his other hand braced out in front of him against the smooth tiled wall. This was the case every single time. Just as he arrived at the precipice of remembrance, the force of his orgasm would shatter all his efforts and bring him harshly back to reality. He carefully stood upright again, his legs weakly shaking as he washed his hands and then down between his thighs. The water had long since turned cold.

He quickly stepped out of the shower, clearly having lost the track of time, as he rushed to dress into some fresh and clean clothes. He’d been consistently late to his job at the Barb every day these past few weeks, and he was sure that the leniency from his boss was only because he could tell that something very bad had happened to Daniel. You didn’t have to be a top reporter to figure that one out - with the bandage over his neck, the bags under his eyes, and the weight he’d been losing - it all told a story. Then the first day he’d turned up without the bandage and they’d all seen the grotesqueness of the bite… well, Daniel would never forget the look of horror on his coworker’s faces, and even though they were all a bunch of nosey journalists, even they’d known best to stay out of it.

Still, Daniel didn’t wish to test the goodwill of his boss, so he tugged on his boots, threw his leather jacket over his shoulders, and snatched up his satchel from beside the front door. He then ran down the steps of his apartment block, taking them two at a time, before bursting out into the bright and sunny morning of San Francisco. He squinted, shielding his eyes against the light before turning and breaking out into a fast sprint, darting and weaving in between the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, none of who paid him any attention at all.

He kept on going until he found a tram, hopping on and clinging onto one of the overhead railings as he impatiently tapped his foot, glancing furtively at his watch as the minutes ticked on by. He really needed this tram to go faster, but even more so, he really, really wanted to be high right now. The itch under his skin was back and it felt like it was driving him mad. He bit his lip as he glanced out of the nearest window, watching the houses and the people bumbling on by. Didn’t he still have a small stash of coke hidden in his desk somewhere? Surely no-one would notice if he took a hit that tiny, would they? It’d only be enough to take the edge off, nothing even remotely close to a proper high.

Daniel sniffed as he sighed and turned his head away, instead looking out of the opposite window and immediately wishing that he hadn’t. There was Divisadero Street, innocent as could be. Did the people living there have any idea at all that their neighbour was a literal monster? A bloodsucking vampire and murderer of the gay population of San Francisco? Not that Daniel was, you know, like that. He was a supporter, sure, but nothing more than a guy doing what he needed to do in order to score. If sucking cock was what it took to earn him his next high then he was more than willing to do it, that was all. It didn’t have to mean anything.

As they passed by Divisadero Street, Daniel wistfully let himself have the fantasy of being some kind of a hero. If only he was a braver man he’d arm himself with a flamethrower and a big hatchet, and he’d storm inside and cut all the newspapers down from the windows and flood the apartment with light. Then he’d go over to the coffin (he could still remember vividly where it was) and open it up. He’d stand over Louis and then he’d…what? Chop off his head? Torch the body? Yeah, that made the most sense and, if what Louis told him was true, then it should kill him good.

Daniel smiled to himself, then immediately felt a swell of shame. He couldn’t kill Louis, and not just because he was too weak or mortal to do it. The truth was, even after everything that had happened, Daniel still liked Louis. The guy’s story had been tragic but real, and it had resonated with Daniel to his very core. Besides, he still wanted immortality and, for now, Louis was his only (un)living lead. He wasn’t about to give that up, not for anything. He’d force himself to relive his memories and his trauma until what was lost to him was restored. Something told him that Louis had, at some point, let slip where Lestat currently resided - if not an exact address then at least a rough area that would make his search a lot easier.

Then there were all his other unanswered questions, like: How had Daniel survived? What had happened in those other days that he couldn’t remember, and had there really been a second vampire there? Also, why were his memories so fucked now? It wasn’t just his memories, but his psyche, too. He was different, a changed man, and he wanted to know why. He often found himself thinking about things that he really shouldn’t, like what it would be like to watch another man die, or what would happen if he asked someone to bite him? Was this all Louis’ doing, or had something in him always been this broken?

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Daniel slowly came to notice the buildings and street signs outside and frowned in confusion. Then it hit him. Shit, he’d passed by his work already! Wriggling his way through the crowd of commuters he jumped off the still moving tram, stumbling slightly in his rush to run back the other way. By the time he got inside and up to the floor of the Barb, he was, somehow, only a couple of minutes late. Slinking guiltily up to the front desk he avoided eye-contact with the receptionist, Jessica, who was waiting to sign in him.

“I saw you running outside my window, Dan.” She greeted, passing him the sign-in sheet. “Look, I’ve done you a solid and I’ve put down that you were here on time, but I’m only doing it this once. I mean, technically you were in the building on time so… you know.”

Daniel gave her his best smile, although he had a feeling it wasn’t reaching his eyes. “Thanks, Jess. Seriously, I owe you one.”

She merely shook her head at him and said, “Just start getting here on time, yeah? I don’t like lying to the boss. Speaking of, he’s taking you off the streets for the rest of the week. He says you look like shit and you’re giving the Barb a bad rep. Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s bullshit, but what can you do, eh? He wants you on the Lonely Hearts. It’s easy work, Dan. All you gotta do is pick out the best adverts for the paper. You can do that, easy.”

If he wasn’t so tried then he’d be furious about the relegation. Instead he just huffed, replying with, “Come on, Jess, you and I both know that’s not real journalism. Isn’t that Carol’s job anyway? Why isn’t she here?”

Jessica bit her lip and quickly averted her eyes. “Haven’t you heard the news, Dan? Her son died last week. Murdered like the other, well… you know all about the homophiles turning up dead? She said her son weren’t one of them, but if the shoe fits then… you know.” 

“Christ.” Daniel stumbled forward as his heart dropped and his knees buckled. He had to grab onto Jessica’s desk to stop himself from falling as his entire body turned cold and rigid with terror. “Louis.” The name slipped past his lips as he realised that the vampire was steadily getting closer and closer to finding him.

His time was running out. Fast.

“No, no, his name was Lewis, not Louis.” Jessica corrected him, misunderstanding what he meant. “He came in here sometimes to bring his mom coffee and bagels from down the road. It’s odd, but now that I think about it, he had curly hair just like yours. Same eye colour too. Anyway, take these submissions for the Lonely Hearts and get to work, okay, Dan? I’m not having you landing me in trouble for idle gossip.”

Daniel numbly took the stack of letters from her and clumsily fumbled them into his trembling hands. “Right, yeah, sure. Thanks.” He muttered, his mind a world away.

He turned and his legs walked him towards his small desk in the far corner where he collapsed down heavily into his creaky chair. He let the envelopes of Lonely Hearts spew out across the table as he dropped his satchel onto the floor by his feet. For a long moment he just sat there, exhausted and in shock from what he’d just heard. Was Carol’s son dead because of him? All because he had to be the one that got away? Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on his curls until it hurt and his head throbbed. He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, and the idea of sitting as his desk all day felt like a nightmare. Fuck his boss for taking him off street work. Daniel needed to be outside.

With no other option left, he opened up his desk drawer and rummaged around in the back until he found his little bag of coke, already half used. He looked around as he slipped it stealthily into his jacket pocket. There was one small group of people talking by the water cooler, two standing at the stationary cupboard, and another at the printer. Everybody else was either at their desks or out and about somewhere else. It was a clear and straight shot to the bathroom, nice and easy. Daniel sucked in a sharp breath before getting up and making his move.

He walked quickly yet discreetly across the room, careful not to actually break out into a run while keeping his head down and avoiding all eye contact. No one looked at him anyway. The people here hardly ever noticed Daniel. He was the young reporter they suspected would never go anywhere, no matter how much he kept on insisting that he was going to win himself a Pulitzer. They only time they took any notice of him was when he got into trouble with their boss, or on the day he’d turned up with that damn bandage on his neck after having been missing for a week. Other than that, he was as good as invisible. 

Without a single soul noticing him Daniel slipped into the empty men’s room and shuffled to the very last stall at the end. He quietly stepped inside and locked and closed the door behind him. Then he shook his coke out into a pile of top of the toilet’s cistern and, using the library card from his back pocket, Daniel drew himself up a small line. He then bowed his head, pressed one nostril closed, and snorted it all up. A pleasant rush ran through him, his fingers and toes tingling as he bounced eagerly on his heels. Daniel shook his head and grinned before wetting his finger to dab up the rest of the coke to rub into his gums. Immediately he felt so much better, his mind finally clearing.

Flushing the empty baggie down the toilet, Daniel stepped nonchalantly out of the stall. He then went to the sinks to wash his hands, criticising his reflection closely. He still looked like shit with the permanent dark circles under his eyes and the scabbing wound at his neck, but at least he no longer felt as bad as his outward appearance suggested. The drugs also made the memory of Louis and his fangs hazy enough around that edges that, just for a little while at least, he knew the fear would finally leave him alone. It was such a shame that he was going to have to spend the day stuck on desk duty when he knew he’d be so much more useful elsewhere.

With an annoyed scoff Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his hands to dry them off. Being put on the Lonely Hearts was a downright insult to his skills. He was the best damn reporter here yet they never gave him the chance to actually prove it. How many of the others could say they’d interviewed an actual real life vampire and lived to tell the tale? Of course no one would ever believe him, but that didn’t matter to Daniel. He knew the truth now. He knew that immortality was possible.

Suddenly realising that people might become suspicious of his absence, Daniel exited the bathroom and casually wandered back over to his desk, sitting down and glaring angrily at the large pile of envelopes. He carelessly grabbed one at random and opened it up. It was written on a piece of pastel pink paper, the penmanship a delicate cursive with a lipstick kiss signed at the bottom. He supposed it was sweet, but his job was simply to transcribe the written words over to be printed. Propping his chin on his fist, he lazily scanned through the writing, the coke in his system simmering just beneath the surface.

NO MORE LONLEY NIGHTS
Is there anybody out there willing to give a good
girl a chance? I’m 24, blonde hair, brown eyes,
and looking for a male, 20-30, for possible
companionship. Must like dogs!

Daniel frowned. Why was this perfectly ordinary girl resorting to the Lonely Hearts of the Berkeley Barb of all places? Anyone who was young and pretty enough could find whoever or whatever they wanted in the bars and clubs of San Francisco, and even more so the things they didn’t want. With that thought came the unbidden image of Louis, handsome devil that he was, sliding into the stool next to Daniel’s at Polynesian Mary’s. His breath caught in his throat as he blinked rapidly, dropping the letter and letting it float down somewhere between his legs. Daniel had to bow his head forward and pinch the bridge of his nose until the image cleared. When he sat upright again his back was sticky with sweat.

The letter was still on the floor, a rectangle of soft pale pink against the grimy and dirty beige of the office carpet. Daniel bent down to pick it up and placed it to one side. She didn’t seem like the kind of person that Louis would target, so it seemed safe enough to print her innocent submission. Daniel then ran his fingers through his hair before picking up the next one.

LOVING AND CARING
Lonely man, early thirties, looking for a sweet
lady to bring home to mom and dad. Must
enjoy long walks and dining out. First impressions
are very important!

Daniel paused, his mind whirring as he read the words over and over again. There was something about the line ‘sweet lady to bring home to mom and dad’ that resonated with him. At first he couldn’t put his finger on it, but then it all came rushing back to him. The phone call with his mom that morning about the upcoming wedding of his aunt, and the misunderstanding that he had a girlfriend, someone to bring home to mom and dad.

In a sudden rush of inspiration Daniel reached for a pen and a scrap piece of paper as an idea started to coalesce in his mind. Right now he had two problems, the most pressing being Louis, and the lesser being his need for a girlfriend for his aunt’s upcoming wedding. If he included his own Lonely Heart in the paper then ideally one of two things would happen, either it would draw Louis out or he’d find himself someone willing to pretend to be his girlfriend. If it attracted a girl, then great, if it attracted Louis then… well, Daniel would deal with that when he got there. For now he needed to compose a convincing enough letter… 

SHORT TERM COMPANION NEEDED
Male, curly brown hair, green eyes, looking for a
fake companion for an upcoming event. Must be attractive
and well-mannered. Ability to act or a background in
theatre desirable but not necessary. Serious enquires only.

Daniel sat back and appraised his work. It was good. Simple, to the point, and including everything that he needed it to. There was the physical description in there to attract Louis, and then the requirements for the fake relationship for the wedding. He’d even briefly toyed with the idea of genuinely trying to find himself a girlfriend, but then he’d remembered his goal of chasing vampires and achieving immortality, and the idea had quickly soured for him. No, this was the best way to do it. With a pleased sigh Daniel sat back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head.

For the first time since Divisadero Street he felt like things might actually be going his way. Riding on his pride and the high of the coke he easily sailed through the rest of his day. It wasn’t until much later on when he’d returned home to his small and empty apartment that the darkness began to creep back in on him. Feeling scared and alone Daniel went to bed, curling up into a small ball in the centre of his mattress and making sure to leave all the lights on in case he received a nighttime visitor.

As Daniel slept, on the other side of San Francisco, printing began on the latest issue of the Berkeley Barb.

In the morning a seemingly young man brought a paper from a local street vendor. His skin was dark, his hair black and curly, and his face smooth and angelic. The street vendor had thought him beautifully unnerving with his too sharp nails, and his eyes that had flashed unnaturally orange against the rising sun. But before he could question any of it the young man was gone and forgotten about, no more than a phantom that had never been in the first place.

This young man took his paper home to a darkened apartment on Divisadero Street. He then sat down at the table, the place utterly silent except for the softly pained groans coming from the other room. He ignored them, instead reading through the paper until he came to the Lonely Hearts where one advertisement in particular caught his eye. The description of a young man with curly brown hair and green eyes appealed to him, reminding him of a fascinating boy that he’d recently met.

Smiling to himself, the man picked up a red pen and circled the ad.

Chapter Text

There comes a searing, burning pain all down the one side of Daniel’s body as he feels himself being lifted effortlessly up into the air. An an invisible force is puppeting him, and he screams out in terror, loud and fearful. He’s too incoherent to beg whoever it is to stop hurting him. Instead he can only scream again, and again, and again, until his throat feels scratched raw by sandpaper and the tears and snot run messily down his face. Nothing will make the force stop. It just keeps lifting and slamming his body up and down against the floorboards with sickening and crunching thuds until Daniel feels himself about to break.

It’s a memory, he knows it is, and he fights to wake from this reoccurring nightmare.

With a sudden start Daniel finally bolts upright in his bed, a final hoarse cry passing through his cracked lips. His hands are screwed up tightly in the sheets as his heart races, pounding like a drum in his chest and in his ears. Both himself and the bed are absolutely drenched in sweat yet again. He keeps dreaming of Divisadero Street - a scene from a room forever burned into his mind.

Daniel runs a trembling hand over his eyes, feeling the dampness collected on his face. He takes a moment just to breath, in and out, as he slowly comes back into his body. To his shame Daniel finds that he is hard in his boxers, his cock tenting against the white fabric as it begs for his attention. He moves slowly, still feeling a little out of sorts, as he turns sideways in the bed, dropping his bare feet down against the old rug on the floor. Daniel then flexes his toes, grounding himself, before rising and standing on weak and shaky legs. He stumbles without coordination towards the bathroom.

Turning the light on makes him groan and shield his eyes from its sudden and bright harshness. The tiled floor is cold and hard, making Daniel shiver, so he blindly reaches into the shower and turns on the hot water to warm things up a bit. He then pulls down his boxers, hissing slightly as his aching cock finally springs free. He grips a hand around the base and squeezes for relief as he kicks his boxers away into the corner of the room to pick up later.

Daniel then steps into the shower and the hot water immediately washes away all the sweat from his body and, along with it, the last vestiges of his nightmare. He lets out a small moan as he begins to stroke his cock, the pleasure rippling pleasantly up and down his spine in time with his shifting hand. He closes his eyes tight, trying to think of anything normal to jerk off to, but once again his mind is brought back to the sweet sensation of fangs in his neck. Daniel begins to tremble out of frustration, hating himself and how good it feels all at the same time. Tears well up in his eyes, but still he does not stop the movement of his closed fist. Yet again he cums exactly like that, with a groan on his lips and with shame in his heart. 

Shaking and crying, Daniel looks down at himself and the sticky white cum washing away down the drain. He still feels sick and disgusted long after the last traces of his weakness have all but disappeared. He doesn’t know what to do, only that something is clearly very wrong with him. He feels beyond broken, but also unwilling to simply accept what he has become. Instead his knees buckle as his back slides down the smooth tiles until he is sitting on the floor. Wrapping his arms around himself, Daniel bows his head and begins to sob.

The sounds of his despair echo for a long time in the small shower stall until, eventually, Daniel pulls himself back together again. He gets out, crawling on his hands and knees and into the centre of his bathroom where immediately he begins to shiver all over. He reaches up for a nearby towel hanging on a railing. It’s slightly off-white and worn from years of use, but it’s soft as Daniel scrubs his face dry. For a while after he just kneels on the bathroom floor with the towel draped over his shoulders, staring off into nothing. He can’t bring himself to turn and look at the shower.

After an unknown amount of time a sudden noise from his front door catches his ear, and he holds his breath in terror before he recognises it as simply a letter being delivered. His own fear is making him stupid, he thinks, as he stands and secures the towel loosely around his waist. It’s the morning, the sun is shining, and there’s no way that Louis (or any other potential vampires) can get to him now. Shaking his head, Daniel leaves the bathroom to go and collect his post.   

There’s a small collection of leaflets and envelopes waiting by his door. Daniel bends down to scoop them up, wandering over to his small and rickety dining table as he sorts his way through them. There’s a couple of advertisements for local upcoming events, a religious brochure declaring that homosexuality is sin, something that looks suspiciously like a bill, and then a smooth, white envelope with his name, Daniel Molloy, handwritten in a curling gold script. He cocks an eyebrow in confusion before opening it up.

When he sees the white card and the ‘You’re Cordially Invited To’ printed neatly at the top, he suddenly remembers yesterday’s phone call with his mom, and all about his aunt’s stupid wedding. He rolls his eyes as he skims down the cliché words of love and romance until he hits the small note at the end about bringing a plus one, and he feels his poor heart stop dead. Daniel’s vision blurs as he remembers something else that he did yesterday. Something very stupid indeed.

Waves of sickening nausea wash over Daniel as it all gradually comes back to him. Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to place an advert in the Berkeley Barb’s Lonely Hearts? He knows that Louis is still out there and looking for him, and now there’s a good chance the vampire will guess this is who he works for. But then again… Daniel frowns, casting his mind back. Hadn’t he already told Louis he worked for the Barb when they’d first met at Polynesian Mary’s? So if Louis already knows where he works, then why hasn’t he come for him yet? It’s usually dark by the time that Daniel leaves the office, which would give him plenty of open opportunity to strike. Is he just toying with him then?

Maybe the blood tastes better when your victim is afraid?

Feeling numb, Daniel stumbles into the kitchen area and rests his forehead against the cool surface of the fridge, listening to the low hum of the electrics inside. It’s soothing, the steady buzzing filling up his mind until he can think clearly again. Okay, yes, he did something extremely stupid yesterday, but that can be blamed on the drugs. The question now is, how is he going to salvage this? The easy answer is, if Louis does try and call him with that distinctive hint of a New Orleans drawl, then Daniel will just hang up on him and get a new number. As for Louis knowing where he works, well, Daniel had already told him that. Maybe he should just quit his job and leave the city entirely? But surely Louis would follow him anyway?

Daniel knows what he has to do. He needs to remember all that happened on Divisadero Street before Louis decides to strike. If only he can recall everything that Louis had told him about Lestat, find the other vampire, and then convince him to turn him, then he might just stand a chance of fighting back. Or, if he gets really lucky, being Lestat’s fledgling might put him under his protection. It’s a long shot, and he knows he’s against the clock, but right now it’s his only hope.

Feeling a lot calmer now (but certainly no less afraid), Daniel looks down at the wedding invitation still clutched tightly in his hands. All he can do is sigh defeatedly as he slides it carefully underneath a magnet of the Golden Gate Bridge. It really is the least of his concerns right now, but he supposes if he does get any responses from his ad, it’ll help. It’s just that he can’t afford to be wasting any precious time that could be spent looking for Lestat on preparing some random girl to be his fake companion for what is, apparently, a week-long event. The invitation requests that he attends the pre-dinners and the wedding rehearsals before the big day itself, which right there is seven days of wasted time.   

Scratching his head, Daniel opens up the fridge door and makes a grab for the milk. There’s not a lot he can do right now, and breakfast seems like a good idea as any. Next he brings down a box of cereal from a cupboard and an empty bowl from another. He pours out the cereal (Franken Berry - it’d been on sale and he has a sweet tooth) before giving the milk the sniff test. It seems decent enough, but just as he begins to pour, the phone rings.

Daniel freezes in place, a sense of dread crashing into him like a brick wall. It could be Louis. It could be his mom. It could be anyone. Slowly, he puts the milk down and starts to tip-toe over to where the phone rings in its cradle, a klaxon taunting him with the unknown. Hesitantly, he reaches out and brings it up to his ear. He has to swallow the nerves rising up in his throat before he can speak.

“Hello?” He asks, wisely choosing not to give out his name. 

There’s a strange pause on the other end of line, and in it Daniel swears he catches the sharp intake of a breath. He’s about to hang up when someone finally answers.

“Good morning.” Comes a rather polite male voice with an obviously British accent. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I’m calling about the advertisement in the paper? The one in the Berkeley Barb?”

At first a sense of almost overwhelming relief flows through Daniel. This is definitely not the voice of Louis de Pointe du Lac, so that means it has to be somebody else. However, the more the person talks, the more that Daniel feels a frown forming between his brows. There’s something oddly familiar about it, but he can’t quite place it. The voice is smooth and lilting, and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. Perhaps he’s heard a similar sounding voice before on the TV or on the radio? This man is certainly well-spoken enough to do so.

“Uh, yeah. I placed an ad.” Daniel says, pausing before carefully asking, “Are you interested for yourself, or are you calling on the behalf of someone else?”

He suddenly gets the feeling that this could be a trap. After all, he wouldn’t put it past Louis to use another person to draw him out. This guy is clever, and Daniel knows that. You don’t get a place like the The Azalea up and running as a black man in 1917 New Orleans without being smarter than everybody else around you. Daniel will not make the same mistake of underestimating Louis like all his past victims.

“Myself.” Says the voice, a hint of amusement leaking through in his soft tone. “I do hope it won’t be an issue for you? I saw no specification for gender listed, so I presumed I’d be welcome to call. Perhaps you’d be willing to meet with me in person? I’d love the opportunity to prove myself capable of meeting your requirements.”

Daniel hesitates. Ideally he wanted a girlfriend for the wedding, but if he turns up with a boyfriend instead then perhaps his aunt will change her mind about having him there? Then he can get out of the whole week-long affair and get back to what really matters. He feels a grin forming on his face as he replies.

“Yeah, no problem at all. We can meet up tonight, if you’re free?”

That almost seductive voice comes straight back down the phone at him once more. “Yes, tonight works well. Are you familiar with Polynesian Mary’s? I can be there from eight-thirty.”

The question almost makes Daniel laugh out loud. Yes, he is in fact very familiar with Polynesian Mary’s, even long before that fateful night when he’d first met Louis. He’d even go as far as to say he has a bit of a reputation there, mainly for performing certain sexual favours in exchange for drugs, but also for not paying his tab. Right now, however, it’s one of the last places he’d ever wish to return to, knowing he’d be fearing the presence of a vampire lurking around each and every corner. Although, with his particular brand of reputation, no-one would be looking twice at seeing him there with another guy.

“Sure.” Daniel finally agrees. “Mary’s at half-eight it is. I’ll be there.”

The guy on the other end sounds pleased by this acquiesce. “Excellent.” He replies. “I want you to know that I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Daniel then hangs up and puts the phone back down again. He cocks his hip out and rests a hand over his still damp skin, the fingers on the other scratching thoughtfully at his chin. Whoever that guy was seemed polite and friendly enough, but Daniel still can’t shake some weird lingering feelings about him. Whoever he was, he didn’t give much away about himself - not even a name or a physical description, and that makes Daniel both cautious and curious. At least at Polynesian Mary’s he’ll be in a busy and public place. Hopefully (as long as he doesn’t go home with the stranger) he should be perfectly fine. If he does turn out to be some kind of a weirdo, Daniel will simply tell him he’s had multiple offers for the job, and he was merely unsuccessful.

As long as he’s not a vampire, Daniel is quietly confident that he can handle him. Because really, what are the chances of him meeting a second vampire in the exact same bar as he’d met the first?

At a payphone on Divisadero Street stands the same young man from before. He has a small, elegant smile on his lips, and curls of dark hair spilling artfully over his forehead. He puts the phone back into its cradle, pleased with the conversation and the arrangements just made. The young man cannot believe his luck. By pure chance, it seems, he has found the boy that he’s been hunting for. He is absolutely certain it was his voice on the other end of the line. After all, a voice as beguiling as that is one that he’d recognise anywhere.

The young man then steps away and begins to walk back towards his home. He could’ve easily used the phone in the apartment, but it also would’ve been far too precarious to do so. The young man does not live alone, and even with his companion confined to coffin and in bouts of terrible pain, he cannot be too cautious at a time such as this. The boy is a danger, a loose end, and the young man despises loose ends. He will kill him swiftly and discreetly, and his injured companion need never know any different. He has lied before, and he will easily do so again.                  

By the time that Daniel returns home after another long day at work his mind is racing. Still reluctant to let him out of the office his boss had put him on the phones instead, taking incoming calls from the public who felt they had interesting stories for the paper. Most of it was bullshit - underwhelming individuals vying for their five minutes of fame, or disillusioned people claiming to have seen the figure of Jesus in their toast - but occasionally they’d be something good.

This time a caller had phoned in to talk about something unusual they’d seen a few weeks ago on Divisadero Street. That alone had immediately caught Daniel’s attention, and he’d sat up straighter in his chair with a pen to transcribe down everything. Then, as the caller had started to detail their story, Daniel had quickly realised that it was him who this guy was talking about. He’d described Daniel perfectly, down to his curly brown hair, leather jacket, and trusty satchel.

“I didn’t think much of it at the time, you see, because the murders hadn’t started yet. I thought it was just some kid passed out drunk, which isn’t exactly unusual around these parts, you know? Now though, I’m thinking with all these kids turning up dead… well, the one I saw fits the description, doesn’t he? What if he was the first? What if who I saw him with weren’t his friends at all, but actually his killers?”

Daniel had blinked rapidly, his heart thumping in his chest. “Sorry, but did you just say killers? As in multiple?”

“Yeah.” The guy had confirmed. “There were two others with him that night. One I couldn’t make out at all because he was wearing a grey sweatshirt with the hood up, but the other was wearing a dark green shirt and brown pants. I couldn’t really get a good look at him though. It was quite dark out, and his hair was covering most of his face. Curly black hair, that’s what I do remember though.”

At hearing that Daniel had leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. Louis may have been the one hidden underneath the hoodie, but who the hell had that other guy been? Daniel had tried to force his memories to give him something with the caller’s description, but he still got nothing. Frustrated, he’d pulled harshly on the ends of his hair and sat forward again in his chair. 

“Have you told the cops any of this?” He’d asked next.

A hollow laugh had emanated from the phone at that one. “Sure I did, but they don’t care. For now those killers are only going after the homophiles of San Francisco, which is all well and good, but what happens when they start going after good, God-honouring people like myself and-”

That had been the point where Daniel had swiftly and angrily cut off the call. 

Now back in the relative safety of his own home, Daniel falls down face first onto his lumpy couch. He’s absolutely exhausted after having spent the rest of the day trying to jumpstart his memories with what little information the caller had provided him with. So far it’s been useless, with his mind just as much as an empty void as it’d been before. He knows it’s probably left him looking like a pile of hot trash (something that he wouldn’t usually care about), but he’s supposed to be meeting up with his potential fake companion at the bar tonight.

Daniel forces himself to sit upright, staring down unseeingly at the floorboards. He knows he needs to make a bit of an effort to freshen up and to at least try and look half decent, but he’s not sure if he can actually be bothered with it all. It’s not like he’s going on an actual date or anything, more like a job interview, but people do still dress up smartly for those. At the end of the day he still needs someone for the wedding, and so far he’s only had the one solitary caller. If he scares this guy away then he might end with no-one.

Reluctantly, Daniel drags himself off to put on some clean clothes. He goes for a crisp white shirt (the last time he’d worn this had been for his interview at the Barb), and a pair of tight blue jeans to try and balance the formal out with a bit of casual. He tucks the shirt in and adds a belt to the ensemble. This will look good with his jacket, he decides, as he checks himself out in the bathroom mirror. He still looks a bit rough with his wan skin and the strikingly dark circles under his eyes, but much better than he’d been before. He pops open the top two buttons of the shirt so it’s less stifling and attempts to tame his hair into something a little less wild.

As he tries to style his hair with his fingers he keeps catching the reflection of the scar on his neck in the mirror. He can’t decide if it’d be more or less obvious if he let it be, or if he covered it up with a bandage. Daniel eventually comes to the unfortunate conclusion that it’ll be best to just leave it be. It’s a scar he’s going to have forever, so what’s the use in covering it today when it’ll still be there tomorrow? Eventually he moves on, sniffing himself to determine that although he doesn’t smell of sweat, he does still smell a bit musty from the office. A bit of aftershave is perfectly adequate to cover it up with.

Pleased that he’s done all he can, Daniel grabs his jacket and tugs it on before leaving home once more. His journey is quiet and uneventful and, after a day of nothing but mental strain, Daniel decides to not think about work, or vampires, or his aunt’s wedding, or anything negative, really. Instead he does what he does best. He people watches. Daniel observes the others like himself out on the street - the two guys trying to discreetly do a drug deal, the young woman sitting on the stoop of her apartment and smoking a cigarette, the couple walking hand in hand while clearly having an argument, and so many more. It relaxes Daniel, and he’s almost in a good mood until he sees the lights of Polynesian Mary’s, and his heart drops into his stomach.          

He feels his hands trembling as he approaches and pushes open the door. It’s all so familiar to him as he’s been here so many times before. But not since… not since that night when… fuck. Daniel suddenly feels like he’s about to throw up as he abruptly turns and walks straight back out again. He breaths in deeply, sucking in big mouthfuls of the cool, night air. It helps a little, but he can’t stay out here forever. Daniel shakily rolls his jacket sleeve back to look at the watch on his wrist. He’s almost ten minutes early. That’s plenty of enough time to pull himself together and scope the place out before the guy he’s supposed to be meeting with arrives.

Daniel firstly kills a few minutes by standing outside and smoking a cigarette which actually does end up doing wonders for his delicate and frayed nerves. Next he goes inside again (without freaking out this time) and casually walks about the place. He can’t see Louis anywhere which is a huge relief for him, and nothing else that makes him suspicious. It’s mostly people he recognises as regulars in here, and the few he doesn’t look harmless enough. Lastly, he looks for some place to sit and wait for the arrival of the stranger.

This is where he runs into a bit of an issue. Well, a major issue, actually. He can only spy a couple of available places with two empty seats. The one that Daniel would prefer is tucked away in the back corner, but he can’t guarantee the guy he’s meeting with will be able to spot him all the way over there, especially when he only has ‘curly brown hair and green eyes’ to work on. The only other suitably available place is at the bar in the exact same place that he’d met Louis. Daniel really doesn’t want to sit there again, but knows that he has no choice. On legs that feel like jelly, he approaches and slides into the familiar stool.

Immediately his heart begins to race with the awful sensation of de-ja-vu coursing through his veins. He closes his hands into tight fists against the bar top as he squeezes his eyes shut until he sees nothing but the blackness of the void. He forces himself to remember what had happened. His joking conversation with Louis, the drinks that he’d brought him after, the offer to go back to his place, then… Daniel feels himself holding his breath, an image forming in his mind’s eye, a picture that is hazy but true…

“Yeah, I really want to interview you.” He hears himself saying, his own voice distant and far away.   

“Course,” comes Louis’ reply, and Daniel sees the vampire shrugging, even with image blurry around the edges. “We’ll take it as it comes.”

He then watches as Louis turns his head, and he’s saying something else now. He’s clearly talking to another person but Daniel can’t hear or see who it is. He desperately strains his ears, but it just sounds like his head is underwater. Everything is blurring together, images and sounds becoming a spinning mess that’s making him dizzy. He feels his world tilt on its axis. Is he falling? He feels like he might be.    

A large, warm hand lands on his shoulder and Daniel quickly opens his eyes, slamming back into reality. It takes him a second to adjust, but eventually he sees that it’s the bartender leaning over and grasping him tightly.

“You alright there, Danny?” He asks. “I haven’t seen you in here for a while. With all these murders and you fitting the profile and all… well I’d just presumed that…”

Daniel grimaces and jerks out of his hold, sitting back correctly on the stool he’d been starting to slide off of. 

“I’m fine.” He grumbles. “Still alive and kicking, so don’t worry about the tab. I’ll pay it off as soon as I can, okay?"

The bartender’s face falters. “I wasn’t-” he begins to say, when he looks past Daniel and raises his brows.

“Excuse me.” Comes a soft, British voice. “But I believe I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

Daniel slowly turns around in his seat and, not for the first time today, feels his heart stop dead. This time, however, it’s not out of fear or dread, but rather awe. Standing there, smiling softly at Daniel, is the most gorgeous man that he’s ever seen. He has lovely dark skin, large brown eyes, and curls of black hair framing his perfectly angelic face. He looks young, perhaps Daniel’s age, but he carries no imperfections. There are no bags under his eyes, or unfortunate scars on his neck. He is… beautiful, just absolutely beautiful.     

Instinctively Daniel straightens in his seat, his eyes widening as he tries to drink in the image before him. This man deserves to be immortalised forever in paintings or in sculptures, but Daniel is no artist. In words then? He could write poetry instead on the innocent elegancy of this man, of this individual who is apparently here to talk to him.

“Uh, s-sorry?” Daniel stammers, too lost in those deep hazel eyes to even be embarrassed.

The man lets out a small huff of amusement as he slips gracefully, almost like a dancer, into the vacant spot next to Daniel. He turns to look at him then, and Daniel looks in turn. He’s wearing a charcoal shirt with most of the top buttons left undone to reveal a well toned chest, the skin decorated with coarse black hairs. He’s also wearing a pair of dark red trousers with the ends flared out over his shiny black boots. Daniel cocks his head as he ponders this display. Something about this man seems to scream wealth and power, but he isn’t entirely sure what it is. Is it his clothes, his presence, or a bit of both?

“I’m looking for the man who put an advert into the Berkeley Barb enquiring about a short-term companion.” The beautiful stranger patiently explains. “We spoke on the phone this morning, did we not?”

Daniel nods his head, partly in understanding, and partly to clear his mind. “Yeah, that’ll be me. Sorry, man, long day at work, you know how it is.”

The man smiles again, and Daniel is honestly blown away once more because holy shit is this guy willing to pretend to be his boyfriend? He honestly can’t believe his luck, and he ends up feeling slightly giddy about the whole thing. He even has to mentally pinch himself as a reminder that it’s all play-pretend anyway. None of it is actually real, and Daniel needs to remember to be professional. His priority right now is vampires, and he can’t let a cute guy distract him from the real terrors that he knows are out there, lurking and waiting for him in the shadows of the night.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” The man says, extending out a hand for him to shake.

Daniel takes it, barely registering the coolness or the smoothness of the skin. “Likewise. I’m Daniel, by the way. I feel like I probably should have told you that earlier.” He chuckles.

“Daniel.” The man repeats his name back to him, his eyes lighting up. “It means, ‘God is my judge’ if I remember correctly, does it not?”

It takes him slightly by surprise, but Daniel nods his head, still shaking the man’s hand. “Yeah, it does.”

They finally let go of each other and the man props his elbow on the bar, resting his chin over his fist. “Funny.” He hums. “My name means ‘love of God’ or ‘one who is loved by God’.”

It’s such a strange and bizarre conversation, especially for two people who have only just met, and Daniel is loving every single second of it. 

“Yeah?” He prompts, desperately hungry to taste this man’s name on his own tongue.

“Yeah.” The stranger first playfully mimics him before finally giving Daniel what he wants. “Please, call me Armand.”