Chapter Text
Louis left the penthouse, Daniel staring at his back. There was rubble on the floor and then there was Armand, eyes dry but hollow, staring out at the vast room with the crushed up wall still powdered across his hair and shirt. The building groaned with the sway as if to compliment his beautiful and otherworldly melancholy.
For a brief moment, Daniel recalled Louis' words so long ago and wondered who would emerge from this cocoon of devastation–the wounded lover, or the gremlin. His self protective instincts warned him not to wait to find out.
Daniel took a step.
As if woken from a deep coma, Armand's eyes flicked to Daniel with force, jaw tight, freezing him in the spot. The next words came into his mind with pressure and authority–an invading voice in the depth of his consciousness–’Is this who you are, Mr. Molloy? Destruction? Is this what you wished for?’
His eyes swept the empty room, then the rubble as evidence.
Daniel waited, silent. He was frozen, and it was clear Armand was using his power, however mildly, restraining him on the spot, keeping him from leaving.
“I did you a favor,” Daniel finally said plainly, answering the intrusive thoughts out loud. “You can call it a fairy tale if you want, but that shit wasn’t love.”
“And you know of love, child?” For the first time, Armand’s voice cracked, small bits of vulnerability showing through. His eyes weren’t even on Daniel.
Daniel swallowed. Yes, he thought. But even Alice...
“I know what it isn’t,” he finally said.
Armand held the wall with a hand, lifting himself up with a fragility that Daniel was sure wasn’t physical. He didn’t bother to dust himself off, instead walking silently to the table, thumbing through what was left of Daniel’s notes after the flames, as if there would be an answer where he’d gone wrong that could undo this all.
Daniel waited. He waited while his legs cramped, three bouts of the shakes and the stifling, overwhelming feeling of Armand’s ruminations pressing up against the room like being under water.
“Let me go,” Daniel finally tried, softly. “Please.”
He looked at Daniel as if he’d forgotten he was there. His voice was surprisingly soft when he spoke:
“Let you leave, Daniel? Just as Louis wishes? Just as you wish? Are we back in San Francisco where the night wanes to morning and I’m left to do as everyone requests of me?”
Armand walked toward Daniel as he spoke, letting him free of the paralyzing vampiric spell, and he stumbled backwards in shuffling steps, Armand’s calm, but menacing walk chasing him out to the open balcony.
The chill hit him first, his back thumping to the solid weight of the concrete barrier to the two-thousand foot drop below.
“Shall I call you maitre, as well?” Armand asked.
Armand wrapped a hand around Daniel’s throat and his heart thumped in his chest, perhaps sensing these were his last moments.
For Daniel, fear and death had been a flirtation since that night so long ago, even if he didn’t remember the origins of it. He loved life with the kind of nihilism that made him want to burn, see more, push the boundaries, unraveling himself in the process. Still, when he pretended away his self-destructive tendencies, it was always tinged with a lie.
Louis had known it. The way Daniel chased the fire of life, not caring if it burned him. He’d been predictably easy to lure to Dubai after all, and even more thoroughly ready to throw himself into the crossfires of a 77 year old relationship, Armand’s cold eyes staring at him in the process.
Armand smiled slightly.
“So that’s why you did it. Because you must.”
“Get out of my fucking head. And no.”
“Did you wish for this? For me to sink my teeth into your neck and end it all?”
“No. I’m not Louis.”
“More deflections,” Armand laughed, though it was laced with bitter undertones, voice growing tighter and more accusing. “Words. Just more words, Mr. Molloy. Words to destroy, words to hide behind, but I can see it clearly in your mind. That barely concealed desire for me to rip you to shreds, here. Now.”
Daniel forced himself to laugh back and shake his head in disbelief and disagreement, even as the cold sent lightning shocks into his hands, causing them to shake. Armand’s eyes tracked the movement quickly, then his yellow gaze landed on Daniel again. He took a step closer, emotion rippling through his jaw.
“Yes, I see it. Someone to stave the slow devouring of what’s left of the fascinating boy now ravaged with Parkinson’s. To end the succumbing to the powerless rage of a body that will not listen, two daughters that won’t forgive you and a career that will never fully satisfy your lust for destruction.
“I may be a predator, Daniel, but your hunger knows no bounds. No matter how many times you tear into the flesh and meat of your subjects psyche, you’ll never be satisfied, will you?
The air remained charged between them, both breathing in the cold air in heavy breaths, the dull ache of the concrete starting to throb on Daniel’s back.
“You’ve always been a black hole, Daniel,” Armand darkly whispered. “Full of impotence and rage. I knew it in San Francisco and it’s here now–your heartbeat too steady, despite your fear.”
Their eyes connected and Daniel found himself thinking, against his better judgement of Armand’s exquisite beauty. Like a vengeful angel… He was so present and vibrant in this moment. As if with Louis he had never been so alive, or so Daniel thought.
Armand blinked quickly, clearly still an ever present observer to Daniel’s thoughts, taken aback by the direction. Daniel scowled, angry. Those thoughts weren’t for you.
He swallowed, pulling up whatever fight was left from his gut in retaliation:
“You’d know a thing or two about powerless rage, wouldn’t you?” Daniel needled in provocation, though his words weren’t as sturdy with strong hands lightly pinching his windpipe. “It’s why you’re still here. You want to kill me, but you can’t, so you’re stuck with your dick in your hands the way it’s been for half a century, letting the world pass you by while you play house with your boyfriend who’s in love with another man. Louis didn’t love you. That’s no surprise. No, the one that’s killing you is the fact you didn’t love him, either. You were just lonely. Poor Arun.”
If he’d been a moron in the 70s, he might even be more of one now, staring at Armand’s wide eyes oscillating between fury and conflicted restraint as he insulted him.
“I do,” Armand admitted in a cold whisper, shaking with repressed emotion. “I do wish to kill you.”
And Daniel could see it and could feel the truth of it in him.
“And I might. He left you here with little protection. You and I both know his threats are hollow. He could not kill me if he wished it.”
Armand’s fingers gripped tighter, but only by a fraction. He pushed Daniel’s back into the balcony railing, causing him to bow back. The wind whistled this high up, sending shivers down his spine–a tiny nudge and he’d topple, feet already lifted to his toes.
He thought of his daughters. If it were his last moments here on this shitty excuse for a planet, then he wanted their faces in his mind–except his brain was cruel, too, and the only images he could conjure were of disappointment. Ignored phone calls and slammed doors.
“Then fucking do it. If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” Daniel said–but his voice portrayed the fear.
“Always so brave,” Armand said, except it was as if he were talking to himself, reminiscing, not in admiration, but with disappointment.
The wind whipped at Armand’s hair, making him again think of a warrior of the most exquisite beauty. Otherworldly and come to end him. A thought prodded from the back of his mind, uninvited, yet still his own words, his own cadence, even if he didn’t understand it himself–-in the end, I’m glad it was you.
Armand faltered. Fangs still out but eyes widening with a shiver of vulnerability and uncertainty.
Again, silence. The kind that eats at all of us–vampires and humans alike. Daniel was a reporter. He knew the value of waiting, sitting in the moment just before someone would split open their own brain and feed it to you just to end the cognitive dissonance of nothing–no sound, no connection, no meaning.
Armand’s silence held an ache that even Daniel didn’t understand, as if they were breathing in the unspoken loneliness and rejection of years with the stretching seconds.
Daniel’s hand shook, tremors, not from fear, though there was that, too, but this time it was the parkinson’s, beating a shallow, light drum along the concrete of his left hand, thumb and finger oscillating. He felt the momentum of it surge to his jaw, twitching.
Watching with his head tilted to the side, Armand looked lost in the distraction of it. For all Daniel’s thoughts were laid bare, Armand’s pensive expression was unreadable. He simply let his hand relax, a soft exhale joining, his shoulders falling as if defeated. This seemed to Daniel to be the most unsettling moment of all.
Armand wanted and needed someone to fight against. There would be no use in killing Daniel if he needed someone to pour all his anger into. But he watched as Armand stared at his tremoring hand like he’d finally realized how small and unworthy his target of anger had been, after all. As if he’d come to a decision in that moment.
If Daniel had room to feel insulted he would have, but death had arrived with the tiny whim of an ancient vampire, and the rage faded from his body as equally as it had Armand’s. They talked of death before, but for the first time Daniel could truly see it in Armand’s eyes.
“Shhhh,” Armand said, gently wiping a thumb across Daniel’s cheek, smearing a tear he hadn’t known he’d started shedding.
“Fascinating boy.”
Daniel sucked in a breath, wishing in his last moments he could call on some dignity. Wishing he didn’t feel sucked in yet again to the soft death Armand had promised him so many years ago, but here it was, like it was just yesterday, reminding him that he’d never escaped the beautiful vampire who wanted to drink him dry, sending him to sleep. He’d only been living on borrowed time, that was clear now.
“It won’t bring back Louis,” Daniel started, feebly trying to find a way to stop the slow but comforting mental descent with stilted words. “He…he’ll hate you more for it.”
“Hush now, Daniel, my beloved.”
Beloved? If fear and anger weren’t being muted by the thrall of death being spoonfed to him, he would have thought about the specific insult of treating this like a lover’s embrace, as if courting him through death. Vampires were twisted motherfuckers and the way Armand’s fingers softly caressed his jaw, the curls in his hairline and his cheek were only further proof of that.
“Look what you’ve done to us, my love," he said.
Suddenly, Daniel wasn’t seventy and a seasoned reporter, he was fifty years younger, unsteady on his feet, the world feeling too big for him, still a kid: “I…” he started. “I don’t want to die.”
It was a last ditch effort. Armand had been right. He knew this was a possibility the moment he’d hopped on that plane. He’d been so close to this moment so many times before that it was really a miracle it took this long.
A long, slow exhale of acceptance.
“That’s right…” Armand said, and he was sure it was all part of the ritual, but for a moment he could see a depth of sincerity in Armand’s face that surprised him… affection? No… regret?
He let it go… let it all go…
Armand stroked his face, still. They didn’t speak for long, drawn out moments–the silence different this time: comforting. Daniel recalled Santiago’s words to the woman on the stage–no pain.
No pain.
Then, Armand’s head tilted toward his neck, the wind dying down to just a soft and cool tickle–could vampires control the weather, too? Cool breath on his neck, lips soft, almost like a kiss, though he can’t feel them, he knows the fangs are near.
A whispered word: “Rest.”
Then, the piercing feeling of sharp teeth sinking into his neck.
He felt… cold. Colder still
He felt his knees go weak, buckling, Armand’s hands wrapped around him securely holding him up as if he were the lightest thing in the world.
And in the end, Armand had been right...
It didn’t hurt.