Blood and History : The Vampire Chronicles He watched the human nightlife from the New Orleans bay window of the sixth floor apartment. He brushed the white blond hair back off his face. He had finished the final book about the others. These vampires who chose to tell their story. All they had seen. The mother even. He scarcely remembered that night. The terrible pain within. He had been following their stories, ever since the one called Louis blew it all out in the open. The quiet one. And then the vain one, Lestat, told his, and then told every adventure thereafter. Now of course you are thinking he is just some fledgling wishing for a great tale of his own, maybe looking to cash in the popularity of his brethren. This is not the case. He is kindred to one of these vampires. Lestat isn't the only Dark Prince that old Magnus had made. He smirked to himself. Being separated from his sire and then only to discover he had thrown himself into the fire. Then not even finding the words or courage to go to his own blood brother. So he watched through the years. Spying on the one called Marius, and his children Pandora and Armand. Beautiful creatures they all were. He closed his eyes and listened. The sounds of the cars, the traffic lights, the clubs, people chattering during dinner, theatre, outside a local haunt smoking, dealing. He could hear it all. Occasionally he would pick up on it. The faint smell of death. The smell that only one of his own kind could have, or detect. The numbers were slowly growing across the world since the mother's genocide, and subsequent final death. A new mother existed now. He didn't know why he didn't go forward. Reveal himself to Lestat, or the others. He had made David promise. David Talbot, a beautiful accidental child. David learnt of his existence after tracing each history of the vampires. He found out more about Magnus, even offered the information to Lestat, who for some reason turned it down. He did not. Although the reason for two children a year apart and then turning himself to ash could not be explained. Not one scratching of ink to explain his actions. It made him wonder about why his made, why was he chosen to be born to darkness. He had known Magnus all of a night, before he disappeared. Had he proved disappointing in some sense? He would never know. He couldn't have been that bad because he too was left a fortune, as his brother had been. He opened his eyes and watched the world below on the neon streets. Night was endless contemplation. David had been a marvellous tutor. Sometimes he wondered though, what would've happened if he had been led by his brother, the elder ones like that Marius, or even by the ancient ones themselves; pale and inhuman Khayman, the mother and her twin of the Great Family. David regularly kept him informed on anything to do with all of them, the great family, the talamasca, the works. David would send him packages, faxes, emails, even phone calls. All marvels of the modern world. Like his brother, he shared a fascination for the mortal technology and its simplicity. The cell phone, as David called it, rattled on the nearby oak chest. He picked it up. The little screen on the top of it flashed blue and David's name appeared. It meant he was the caller. He opened the little phone up and put it to his ear. "Hello David." He greeted. "Hello Mars, busy?" "Not particularly." "I'm in New Orleans tonight. We will meet if you'd like." "Yes, a bit of company wouldn't be bad. Nights of contemplation and history tends to get old sometimes." "The usual place then. About an hour alright." "Alright David." The phone ceased to work. Mars, as he was known, closed the little phone and placed it in his pocket this time.
