Disclaimer : This is a work of amateur, non-profit fiction and is not meant
to infringe on the copyrights of Anne Rice or her publishers. The characters
belong to Anne Rice, except for Dominic; he's mine, although Lestat insists
otherwise.
Spoilers : Up to MtD I guess, and if you haven't read my Demons series you
probably won't have a clue ;)
Dedication : To the child that lives in each of us, never give up on your
dreams.
by Beverley
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
(mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED])
The rulebook says that you don't chase after a vampire, they are supposed to
hunt you down.
But I never took the easy option. If there was any way to screw the system,
you can bet that I would find it.
It was snowing.
Great, white flakes that landed soundlessly on the ground, covering the
tufts of grass, making everything pure, and covering all imperfections.
It was kind of a habit for me now to come here at this time of year. I came
for the snow because it reminded me of that night, years ago, when a fucked
up kid from the rich side of town diced with Death. Money could buy anything,
even protection from the undead. I had lived in a cocoon for so long I really
believed that.
He didn't want to hurt, I don't think he even wanted to feed, he was just
curious, and I was bored.
I felt his presence as I ambled to meet my little group of carol singers
wishing that I had stayed inside by the fire. I spun around quickly as the
hairs
stood up on the back of my neck, but there was nobody there.but there had
been.
Christmas is special but my reasons are not quite the same as everyone
else's.
The smell of a living tree, fresh green pine, they decorate people's houses
trimmed with shiny baubles and strings of brilliant tinsel.
For me it is the smell of the damp forest as I stumbled blindly in the pitch
dark searching for him, my limbs snapping the overhanging branches, and
oblivious to the scratches on my face and hands.
Wreaths of holly on welcoming doorways; bright red berries signify the blood
of Christ they say.
All I remember was my blood slowly dripping onto the snow, spreading
outwards in a circle as he drank.
There was a star about two thousand years ago, a bright blinding star.
I swear I saw its light as I clung numbly to him, my frozen fingers digging
into the cold flesh of his neck. The night sky was my screen and all the
stars silently watched.
I struggled to keep my eyes open and to fix the memory of his face into my
mind.
The snowflakes didn't melt as they hit his face; he was as cold as they were
and they lay on the surface of his skin as I tried not to stare.
I expected to die there, in a vampire embrace, to be found frozen in the
morning and maybe mourned by a few that knew that behind my headstrong surface
there was a kid that wanted to be loved for what he was.
When he pushed me away, I felt a gut wrenching ache that our connection had
been lost. I was sprawled there on the icy ground; wide child eyes gazing up
at him, with his outline finely detailed against the crisp night sky.
His gleaming eyes held me spellbound and the only thing I was conscious of
was the blood slowly crusting on my neck as the cold air froze my wound.
Slowly he knelt down beside me and I saw his lips move but no words were
spoken. Then he sighed and his breath hit the air in a dragon-like cloud.
"Go," he whispered in a soft, honeyed tongue. "I will not take your life,
child, but I will ease your soul."
He touched my cheek with the palm of his hand and sadly smiled, marking me
for the dark side. Again I fought to keep my eyes open, knowing that he had
swept me up into his arms and that he was carrying me. I didn't care where.
When I opened my eyes again I was surrounded by kids that I knew, some of
them with anxious faces, the others laughing at me. That was nothing new.
They all wanted to know how I had fallen asleep on a park bench when I was
supposed to be meeting up with them for an evening of caroling.
~He had made me forget, swept away the demons that danced in my head and
made me strong enough to face the years ahead. He had given me another chance
at
life, a true Christmas gift.
And I only remembered recently, and only because I thought I caught a
glimpse of him as I played tag with my maker through the alleyways of Paris.
Lestat
had laughed and teased me, said I looked as if I had seen a ghost. Then we
had walked towards the river, me with my eyes straight ahead and Lestat, hands
in his pockets, studying me with a sidelong glance. Louis slipped from the
shadows and immediately noticed the tension. He fell into step beside us and
chastised me mentally for being too like Lestat for my own good.
Happy families~
****
The sound of people laughing, car doors slamming, cold engines struggling
into life.
I must have been standing here for hours on the edge of the forest
overlooking the village, and dwelling on the past. I smiled wryly to myself;
this was
way too much like Armand for my liking.
I turned my head towards the sound, sniffing the air and catching cigarette
smoke, rich food and burnt pine logs.
Thrusting my hands inside my calf skin leather jacket, I started to make my
way back to where I had left Lestat. I was late and I steeled myself for
another scolding.
It had been another year, another pilgrimage. But don't ask me what I was
searching for.
Oh yeah, if you're interested, my name is Dominic de Lioncourt, and you
already know most of my story. This is how it all began.
Christmas is for hope and the future and for angels, but who said that all
angels had to wear white.
(http://www.tc.umn.edu/~pres0049/Storypage.html)
**************Start the year off right. Easy ways to stay in shape.
http://body.aol.com/fitness/winter-exercise?NCID=aolcmp00300000002489
