fascination street A Vampire Chronicles story by _Twi_ (mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]) , February 1998. Number nine in the "Le Coeur" series; sequel to _"Lonely in Your Nightmare."_ (http://blood.less.as/hearts/nightmare.html) Rated PG-13 for homoerotic situations (OMC/OMC).
I know that I'm wandering, wondering, rambling. Duty calls but I ignore. Lestat and Louis and Dream and Armand dance together in my mind, but for now I am my own, if only briefly. My thoughts are breaking up into poetry. I get like this sometimes, when I give myself over to the chaos. Unfocused. The molecular connections, the strands of DNA making me momentarily solid breaking up in my mind, scattering thoughts to the wind. Physical degeneration has more charm, as then I become one with the air, still conscious as I'm carried along for the ride, but mental breakdown is... interesting. It sometimes helps get my ducks in a row, as they say. The freedom of no structure, no connections, few memories and no rules. Just feelings and impressions. It is similar to humans cutting themselves to feel the pain, to sear their minds and brighten their senses. My motives are not quite so dark or so angstful, but similar nonetheless. The night is black and the stars are white diamonds in the sky, and the neon sign in front of the nightclub door is achingly vivid in the never-quite-dark midnight of New Orleans. My shine glares in my eyes with the brightness of the artificial lights reflected, though nobody else can see. I can get blinded by my own halo, even when no one else realises it's there. I like watching mortal creatures at play. I walk through the doors past the bouncer, unsurprised when he doesn't notice my presence. I have no money; I usually don't. Mortal things I have little use for. Dark and dark and dark. I wonder what the sight must be to the tender humans, whose eyes don't automatically adjust to the black-hole night inside the building. Smoke and alcohol and sweat and perfume. It's humid and hot here, thick with bodily warmth and steam. Laughter and pounding music, throbbing through me. My ears burn as hot as my body with the sound. I lean against a wall, head back, eyes closed. Ah, these mortal pleasures. Standing in a claustrophobic dark room surrounded by strangers, exchanging looks and movements and hormones. Primal. Humans think they've worked out their animal urges with civilization, but the existence of nightclubs negates the idea. A slight alarm in my head: Someone who recognizes me, knows me, is near. I look around. Another vampire. I've attracted them in droves lately, it would seem. Or is it the other way around? This one does not truly know me, but the halo is enough to tip him off. He approaches, and the light in his eyes is feral. Not incredulous, like Lestat. Not timid, like Louis. Or disdainful like Dream. Or fearful like Armand. He glows with want. Drunk with racing human blood. He is frost-pale, the colour of pure marble, like my other fanged friends. Like me. His eyes are a luminescent chocolate brown, his hair tumbling down in bright-cherry waves, obviously dyed. I want a name. My mind reaches out and grabs: Damien. A child. I don't think I know him. "You're the one watching Lestat," he whispers, and I can hear him clearly over the noisy din. I don't tell him that any information he's getting from my mind is only there because I'm letting him see it. Maybe he knows. He places a hand lightly behind my neck, tilting my head back to look up at him, and I allow it. "Yes." He licks his lips. "You're beautiful." One of the disadvantages to the bright, flashy beauty of my default form: People always feel the need to comment on it, and I can scarcely walk down the street without turning heads unless I concentrate on not attracting attention. Even the stories I've read about myself are full of poetic hyperbole waxing lyrical on the subject of my looks. Paragraphs about the colours of my eyes. But then, I might do the same. And I do choose this form. I could just as easily look like an ordinary human, or an ugly one, but it's my opinion that if I'm going to be a supernatural being, why not look like one too? Even the angels have their small vanities. "If you say so." "I do." His eyes are humid, hot and glistening, the room's atmosphere affecting him and making him blurred and damp. Or is that just me? I don't really reply to him; just let out a breathy sigh. It's hard to speak. Not that he would listen to a word I had to say were I to say any. His lips are already tugging at my earlobe, fangs piercing and tasting the richness of my blood. I know what he wants. And I'm right: The gentle swipes of tongue and rough-pulling teeth are just quick prelude to the bite, and he presses me up against the black-painted wall in the gloomiest corner of the room, mouth fastened to my throat. My hands come up of their own accord to clutch at his back, my eyes swimming, trying to focus. Drowning in a sea of pleasure. No matter how many times it has happened, though it hasn't been that many to date, the bite never fails to sweep me up and catch me off guard. I don't think it's such a bad thing that my kind are so attractive to vampires. Ah, Jessamy, you whore. The music is driving into me in rhythm with the hips grinding against mine. Kick the last nail in. My head is spinning with the strobe lights and the mirrorball. Flying, flying. I fly every day, but rarely in my mind. The bite does this. I welcome it. I feel the disintegration starting. I'm breaking up, dissolving, it's all fading and paling and I'm trying not to drag him down with me. I know that I'm not solid anymore, not really touch-see-hear real, though I am still here. My vampire lover is looking around, wondering where his snack just went. All he sees is the gray veil of fog-machine mist. I float with it and let myself roll out the door. I stand in the alley behind the club. I'm whole again, human. Sort of. I flex my fingers, getting reacquainted with the flesh. My mind is clear again. I'm remembering things now. Ah well. Back to work. I spread my wings and soar through the night sky. No rest for the wicked, and less for the pure. I push vampires and bloodlust from my mind and fly. ************************************** Get a sneak peek of the all-new AOL at http://discover.aol.com/memed/aolcom30tour
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