I never thought it would happen. Never thought the darkness and pain would drive me away, drive me to such depths. I remember, vaguely and clearly, the days before the end. The burning desire for the darkness. I had looked upon the face of evil, and I had welcomed it into my heart and soul. Far better that I had cast it off. God, listen to me. I'm no weeping cherub, crying over the loss of goodness and purity. I was never good or pure. But I was never evil. I was never really dead and dry inside, never so dark or twisted. Mad yes, twisted no. Philosophy says I shouldn't complain. What's the old saying? 'Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it?' I got it all right. And I'm stuck with it. Oh sure, I could end it all, if I really wanted to. But the truth of it is, I'm too much of a coward to do anything like that. And I'm certainly no actor. I don't have any flair for the dramatic. Not like Lestat. I swear, his stunt was just that, a stunt. But I don't really care about the others. They leave me alone, for the most part. I'm not worth their trouble, just some young punk trying to be bigger and tougher than he really is. I know that's what they think of me. I never should have been given the Gift. Not that they'd say it to my face. Oh Armand, how I hate you. Even as I love you, I hate you. What you've done to me! Sure, I begged you for it, threatened you for it, practically bullied you into it. But you didn't have to. You could have kept it from me, let me die. I was so close. And you told me you did it because you couldn't stand to be without me. You loved me to much. Bull shit. If you really loved me, you'd be here with me now. You aren't. You left me. You wandered, and you stayed away, and I could never find you. Your thoughts were closed off to me. And then you went to him. And you almost died for nothing. Proof of evil, you said. bull shit. We're enough proof that there's evil. And even after that you had your new toys to amuse you. Where did that leave me? One hundred years ago that was. One century. I've been alone for all of it, wandering as I did in the days before you brought me over. Drinking in all of the world in my morose stupor, everything startling and vivid to my vampire eyes. But it was for my eyes alone. What's the use of beauty and life and wonder if there's no one to share it with? I think that's what made up my mind. All the others had their little groups, or their confidant. Except for Gabrielle, but she's a wild spirit. No, they had their fledglings and their beloveds, and I was alone. Why me? Didn't I deserve companionship? Oh, I tried to go back to Armand, but he would look at me like I was a stranger, and I knew whatever there was between us was dead. I remember it so vividly. I was sitting in a small cafe, the furnishings all finely wrought black iron. I frequented there often, it was, I thought, the embodiment of the city. Dark and cold and harsh and beautiful. I would sit in a small chair at a little round table, holding a cup of something or other in my hands, and watch the people. They came and they went, darting in and out, talking into their little headsets that have replaced cell-phones. No one ever took time for anything. It was rush here, rush there, business meeting, pleasure meeting, have to see my boss, my wife, my dealer... It all seems so trivial. But once in a while a human would come in, one of those soft innocents who believe in the Age of Romance and read used books of poetry and fancy themselves scholars. These are the ones I would take. They never guessed what I was. Not until the end. I wore my collars turned up, my hair in my face, and tinted glasses. I lacquered my nails, to dim them, and kept my fangs hidden so well. I never revealed myself until the last possible instant... But once, a young woman came in. She dressed like one of the street people, the fashionable lower class. The kind that bloom at night, and seem to live lives apart from the rest of the world. Short black leather skirt, fishnet stockings, dark crimson sleeveless top of some velvety material. They all thought the late twentieth century was a very romantic age, and emulated that style of dress and mannerisms. How wrong they were. Ah, but she was beautiful! long golden hair, tied back in a thick braid, a soft fringe of bangs shadowing her clear blue eyes and delicate round face. Her figure was more soft and round than was fashionable nowadays, rounded breasts and hips. Far more appealing then whip cord muscles. I wanted her instantly. She had a sharp mind, a sad mind, and a soul that cried out to me. She understood so much, the darkness and the beauty and evil. True, most of it was romantic fancy, but she seemed so alive! I met her eyes, and gave her a smile. She bobbed her head at me, and walked over, indicating the seat across from me. There were plenty of other places for her to go, but here she was. "Mind if I sit down?" She asked, cocking her head at me. The gesture sent a pang through my heart. How many times had Armand looked at me like that? That curious, quizzical expression. "Not at all." I said, with far more calmness then I felt. She blinked slowly at me, as if considering the pros and cons of actually sitting. After a bit, she pulled out the chair and sat down. "Come here often?" Ah, small talk! I'd missed it. To just talk with another living being. "I do, actually." I smiled, what I hoped was a warm friendly smile. How did she see me, this angel of modernity? "Then it must be a pretty good place. I heard the food is amazing." "I don't come here for the food." How long had it been since I actually ate? Real, solid food. Over a hundred years. And I can still taste French fries... "Actually, I like to watch the people." "Certainly an amusing pastime." She rested her chin on her hands, leaning forward to address me. "I've done it myself. Just watching all the different people walking by. I'm Eshe, by the way. Funny name, I know." She shrugged, and gave a little laugh. Eshe. How beautiful it sounded, how lovely the way her lips moved to form the sounds. Eshe. "It's Egyptian, isn't it?" I knew little of the language, save what I had picked up here and there by accident. "I don't know." Eshe admitted. And she didn't. She was ignorant of book-learning, a true child of the streets. I looked into her mind, and saw her life. The small first floor apartment where she had spent her entire life, the dark walls, the bare furnishings. It reeked of beer and sweat, but not anymore. Her parents had died, long ago. Now the apartment was decked out in imitation velvet, cushions strewn over the floor, low golden lights, and an endless stream of musician and poet friends. Ah, a bohemian paradise in the center of the city. But dear Eshe, never touched by the depravity or debauchery. So innocent, so pure, and so knowing! She had been touched by suffering, and tested. She was stronger for it, such a will to survive. She should be dead, beaten so often as a child. Beaten, starved and frozen, yet here she was, a woman-child of nineteen sitting before me in all her mortal glory. "I think it is." I told her. There was little of Egypt in her face an form, except perhaps for her grace. "I'm Daniel." I don't think I'd ever given my name to a mortal victim before. "Hmm. Daniel. Nice and simple. Odd though." She smiled, and gave a small laugh. "You don't hear to many simple names anymore." "It depends on the age." I said, running my fingers over the surface of my cup. "When I was born, Daniel was a pretty common name." "You're not that old." Eshe said, crossing her arms on the table. "I'm older then I look." I always had been, even as a human man. I look now in my late twenties, even though I was turned in mid-thirties. "I don't want to sound rude, but you look like a philosopher. At least the ones I've met so far." "Ah yes. I know the ones you're talking about. They mope about trying to look like something out of a period piece and moan about how unfair life is, and the evils of society. No, I'm not a philosopher. " "Well, I'll take that to be a good thing. They get on my nerves, after a while." I grinned at her. They did, and that was usually when I'd invite them for a walk and kill them. "Everything gets on everyone's nerves, after a while. It's only a matter of time." "So, to use a horribly cliched old phrase, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" "First of all, what makes you think I'm a nice girl? Second of all, this isn't a bad place." She shook her head distractedly. "Eh." I shrugged. Funny, but I didn't usually feed on women. No particular reason, it just worked out that way. But there was something about this one, a perfect blend of innocence and darkness. "You're an odd sort." Eshe said, leaning back and eyeing me. "No offense meant, obviously." "None taken. I am a bit...out of date?" I offered up. She laughed, and nodded. "That's exactly it! The way you dress, your hair, your speech! You'd think you were born a hundred years ago." "Really?" I raised an eyebrow. Was I that transparent? Well, like I said, I was never much of an actor. "It works, though." She said. "I like it." "Well, thank you." And I meant it. She was a nice kid. I probably would have been attracted to her, if I was human. Hell I was attracted to her, but in a different way. She was a little punk, a little Goth, with some virgin angel thrown into it all. Didn't she know what she was talking to? "So what's your story?" Eshe asked, innocently. My story? She wanted to know my story. Buy the book, I thought. Buy the fucking book. "Ah, same old same old." I said, again using an old cliché. "Real boring shit. I bet you've got a good story." "Hmm, a modern tragedy. Not all that uncommon. Born on the streets, living on the streets, destined to die on the streets." She made a gesture with her hand, and my eyes were drawn to the slender perfection of her fingers and wrist. How pale and delicate, so smooth and slim! The blood within her was hot, and I fancied it would taste of gin and ice and fire. "There's no such thing as destiny." "But isn't there?" She said. "Everything's predestined, in a way. You do one thing, and it forces circumstances that lead you to another decision, and that rules out a whole mess of situations forcing only one to happen, and so on and so on until you die. I was born a girl, that ruled out millions of lives I could have lived. I was born poor. There goes millions of other lives. My parents were cruel. A million other lives down the drain. My parents died. More lives gone. Each and every moment stripping away would haves and could haves until all that's left is the one single moment when you die. And then it's over." I stared at her. I'd never thought of it that way. Could everything, in some odd chaotic way, be destined? Was my life, just because, pushed up until this point. It was so simple, and so honest, and she really believed it. There was free will to a point, but everything was limited. "I could fall in love with a girl like you." I said softly. She smiled shyly, and lowered her eyes. "That's a pretty original pickup line." "It's not a pickup line." I said. "I could. God, it's been a while since I fell in love." "What happened?" "It killed me." I met her eyes, daring her to ask, daring her to push me. Suddenly, I was angry. Angry at Armand, angry at Louis, angry at Lestat. They had stripped away millions of my lives, forcing me into what I was now! Each one of them responsible, everyone responsible somehow. I saw it then, in a flash of understanding. We were all connected. We were all tiny threads in some huge tapestry, each one weaving around the other. "It killed me, just like I'd kill you, if I loved you." "There are far worse things to die for then love." Such bravery! Did she take me seriously? Did she have some hint of my disease, my deformity. I'm a freak, honey, the walking dead. Living dead guy, right in front of you! "And there are a hell of a lot better things." I said, dipping my finger into the cold coffee before me. I traced patterns on the table with it. "Name one." I couldn't. I can now, sure. Your beliefs, your country, your ideals, your roots. Die for those. Die for solid things, real things. Not for love. Love's a joke, a lie. Hell, I'd rather die for revenge or hate then love. "You've got me there." I admitted. "But that's only 'cause you caught me on the spot." "Of course." She nodded, clearly sarcastic. "But I have to disagree with you." "A romantic." It wasn't a question. "In a way. A romanticist, certainly. I believe in it fiercely and strongly. It's all that's kept me alive. I love life, I love death, I love it all. God, I never want it to end." "How can you love both life and death, when their such clear cut enemies?" She confused me. Life and death. I can give you both, and I'm half ready to now. I'm lonely, and scared shitless of it. "They're not enemies, they're lovers." It was beautiful. Life and death are lovers. I think that cinched it. Well, you're life and I'm death, so lets get to it baby. "You know, I think I could fall in love with you too." If I'd been human, I would have missed it. But I wasn't. She could love me? She could love a shell. That's all I was. Just this shell, this casing, wrapped around a mess of pain and rage and sadness and a bunch of other emotional shit. I should've killed her. It would have been better that way. But I was so scared. I'd been alone for so long, and I couldn't stand it. "Come here." I said, standing up. The least I could do was show her what she was getting herself into. If she wanted it, I'd give it to her. If not, I'd kill her. Either way, I'd have some satisfaction. "Why?" But she rose and followed without hesitation. She trusted me. She wasn't stupid, just innocent. She'd be so beautiful, once I'd done it to her. I could see her so clearly, an angel. An angel of death, but an angel all the same. And she would be mine. She would love me, and she wouldn't leave me. She'd need me. I took her to an alley. It was close, it was private. No one was going to bother a man and woman alone in an alley. Not this late. I turned to her, she looked so confused. She was starting to get worried. "I want to show you something." I said, and I turned down my collar and shook the hair out of my face. I took off the small glasses, and blinked slowly. "Look at me." I said, raising my eyes to hers. "Look at me!" Eshe made no sound. I had expected something. Some gasp, some look of panic. Maybe she'd even try to flee. But she just looked, meeting my amethyst gaze with her own sapphire one. God, but I wanted her! I would have been getting sweaty palms, if I was mortal. She reached up, and felt my face. She just ran her fingers over my cheek, and I shivered. How warm her fingers were, so warm on my cold flesh. "You're not afraid?" "No." She brought her other hand to my face, and held my face cupped in her hands. "No." "You know what I am?" Her blood was pounding in my ears. I could hardly control myself, I was afraid I'd lose control and bury my teeth in her neck right then and there. "I know what you are." She pressed her lips to mine, and I was undone. My arms went around her, crushing her too me. I ran my hands over every inch of her, and slid my lips down to her neck. There! The vein, so vivid and full of life. I ran my tongue over it, shivering. And what did she feel, this tender human, as I did these things to her. She was in ecstasy. Hell, she was getting off on it! And she did know what I was. She knew exactly what I was. "Do it." How commanding. Had I sounded like that? No. I couldn't fight that voice, those words. Do it. I let out a strangled cry, letting my teeth slide into the warm flesh of her neck. She cried out, softly, and tensed in my arms. But I held her tightly, letting teh blood flow into my mouth. God, it was incredible! I gulped it, like a dying man at an oasis. She was a spring of life, my beautiful Eshe! Shit, almost too much! I pulled away, blood trickling out of my mouth. She was gasping, I had torn her neck halfway open. "I've never done it before..." I admitted, horrified. her hand went to her neck, and there was a look of such panic in her eyes. She thought I meant to kill her. She thought it was all some elaborate game, a cat toying with its meal. "No..." I bit awkwardly and hastily at my own wrist. I held it out to her, pushing her mouth onto my wrist. And she fixed on the wound, taking out of me what I had taken out of her. Her blood was my blood, and my blood was her blood. It felt like fire, and I was lightheaded. I pulled away, but her hands held tightly to my wrist. I pulled harder, holding my injured arm to my body. "Not too much!" I yelled, sinking down against the wall of the building. "Oh shit..." "I feel..." but Eshe couldn't finish her sentence. Yes. She was dying. I didn't remember it happening to me, I was too far gone. I was drunk and delusional and half out of my mind. "You're dying. But you'll come back. It sucks, but it's only once. And think about it. You get to be alive for your death." *** I shouldn't have done it. I should have left her alone. Or killed her. But I made a mistake. Everyone does, so sue me. There's another monster running around because of me. That's a little harsh. She's no monster. She's as soft and delicate as when I first lay eyes on her. Even more so, now that the vampire blood has taken full hold of her. Eshe eased into it quietly and gracefully. She didn't bumble around, gaping at everything. She observed, calmly. She drank everything in with a sort of style. It was almost like she was born to be this way. Her first kill was quick and clean, and watching her feed was a beautiful sight. But I still wasn't happy. Nothing had changed, except I wasn't alone any more. We traveled some, not far. I took her to Europe, she'd never been there before. She hadn't left the city where she was born. And I took some pleasure in watching her watch the world. It was like I was a new born vampire all over again. But the novelty wore off. I suppose that's how I was to Armand. Eventually, the novelty wore off. But I loved Eshe, and I didn't push her away. She drifted off on her own, once she was strong and sure she could handle the old ones. I don't think they care, not anymore. Everyone breaks the rules. And Eshe is my fledgling, and I am Armand's. I don't worry about her, and I know I'll see her again soon. Oh Armand, I long for you still! Look at what you drove me to! I created another one. I new vampire to terrorize the world. Again, I'm being harsh, but I have that right. Will I ever see you again? It's been so long, and hardly any time has passed at all. A hundred years? Two hundred? I've lost track. I wish I could feel you... Enough. Enough whining and sniveling. I cannot sense Armand, but I can sense others. And they will lead me to him... Watch out Armand. I will track you down. You can't hide, even in the Savage Garden. I'll find you, and I won't let you push me away. Besides, it's all predestined. In a way.
THE ENDÂ
