Chapter Text
Dubai, 2022
It had been a full forty-eight hours since Daniel made his way to Dubai to interview the vampire Louis, and still he woke up wondering if he wasn’t actually insane or terminally stupid for having travelled half-way across the world in a global pandemic to record the self-obsessed navel-gazing of a vampire who had already tried to kill him once.
Well. Suppose he didn’t need to worry that much for his mortality. He was going to die soon anyway.
Being terminally ill was strange. Most days Daniel didn’t even remember he was going to die imminently. That was, until a joint ached or a muscle started spasming involuntarily and it all came crashing back down on him - and then he was angry at the world all over again.
A ping from his phone pulled him out of his dark thoughts momentarily. Seated at a desk with his laptop, Daniel pulled his eyes away from his screen and pulled out his phone.
Leonora~: Praskoveevka??
Leonora~: :( :( :(
Leonora~: what were you thinking? What about the Parkinson’s?
Leonora~: call Kate. She’s super pissed at you but I know she’s scared
He sighed, running a hand through his grey hair and felt like a shit father all over again. Damn his editor for yapping his big mouth instead of doing what Daniel had asked, which was just to tell everyone that he was investigating pipeline protests in Canada. No one ever worried about people going to Canada. They’d have still been pissed, but they wouldn’t have been freaking out for his safety - it had been one of the many recurring complaints that broke down both of his marriages.
Daniel~: i’m in Dubai
Daniel~: i didn’t say anything because I didn’t want anyone freaking out
Daniel~: everything is fine
Daniel~: it’s a safe job
Daniel~: i’m at some eccentric billionaire’s apartment
Daniel~: dictating his memoirs
Daniel~: nothing to worry about
Leonora~: dad
Leonora~: you flew long haul in a pandemic??
Leonora~: with Parkinson’s??
Leonora~: are you crazy?
Leonora~: what about your appointments? How long are you there for
Leonora~: also
Leonora~: since when did you do vanity projects for billionaires?
Leonora~: eat the rich, remember?
The last text made Daniel smile, and for a moment he forgot about the Parkinson’s, his nosy editor and the list of mistakes he’d made as a father. He knew now, with the benefit of hindsight, that he had been too absent, too emotionally insensitive to his girls’ needs - but still, he was proud of them. They were great people. Funny as hell too - especially his eldest. He might’ve been a shit father but his kids grew up to be fantastic adults - even if it was no thanks to him.
“Your breakfast is waiting, Mr. Molloy.”
Daniel looked up from his phone to see Rashid standing by the door, his hands covered by those ever-mysterious black gloves, his long neck tantalisingly exposed.
It brought him slamming back into the present, back into his current predicament. Dubai. The Vampire Louis. And now, the other thorn in his side - Rashid.
There was no other way to say it - Rashid gave Daniel the heebie-jeebies. There was something deeply distressing about Louis’ loyal servant - something off.
But Daniel couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.
“I’m not hungry,” he replied, surly. He was being a jerk and he knew it, but something about Rashid seemed to just trigger his inner jackass and he couldn’t help himself.
“Taking your medication on an empty stomach would be inadvisable,” said Rashid mildly, in that endlessly infuriating superior way of his.
Smug jerk .
“Who are you, my doctor?”
“No - just making sure Monsieur de Pointe du Lac’s house-guest doesn’t die. It would be a terrible inconvenience.”
“I might drop dead just to spite you.”
Wow, Daniel really was on a roll today. He didn’t know what came over him - it was stronger than him, this desire to antagonise Louis’ loyal servant. Every single journalistic instinct in Daniel was screaming that Rashid was hiding something - and if there was one thing Daniel had never been able to resist, it was provoking someone into revealing their secrets.
To Daniel’s annoyance, Rashid’s lips seemed to twitch into a slight smile.
“I’ll make sure the coroner is on standby. Enjoy your morning, Mr. Molloy. Lunch will be served at noon.”
Before Daniel could think of another quip, Rashid turned on his heels and left Daniel alone to his thoughts.
***
When he wasn’t interviewing Louis, Daniel snooped about his new lodgings. The penthouse was like a contemporary art museum - cold as a mausoleum and twice as pretentious. Daniel hated it.
He wandered the corridors, checking out the art, trying to determine exactly how much money this blood-sucker was sitting on.
He came to a stop in front of a 15th century painting of a fallen angel.
“It’s a Venetian - a contemporary of Tintoretto’s.”
Daniel startled and turned to look around. Rashid again - the ever present shadow that stalked the halls of Mr. Louis de Pointe du Lac’s penthouse.
“Marius de Romanus?” Daniel read out loud. The name rang a bell, something unpleasant - but when Daniel flicked through his mental encyclopaedia he couldn’t think of where he had heard it from.
“Never heard of him.” he said finally.
“Little of his work survives - Mr. de Pointe du Lac covets the rare.”
Right. Of course he did. Explained the whole vibe of the place.
From the distance, Daniel could suddenly hear a deep groaning sound reverberating through the walls. He’d heard it several times already since he arrived and wondered whether he was going mad - or if this was some kind of Bluebeard situation.
“Do you hear that?” Daniel asked, “I keep hearing that sound…”
Rashid acknowledged this with a nod.
“The building sways a bit - but that is according to its design given the height. We call it ‘the groan’. it won’t disturb your meal, which is ready now.”
But Daniel couldn’t resist the opportunity to question, now that the opportunity had presented itself.
“Did you always work for him?”
“Please have a seat -”
“Did you sign an NDA? I mean is it only work or are you and he …?”
Rashid glared at him, warning him off more impertinent questions.
“I serve a god ,” he emphasised, “it is my honour to serve. Mr de Pointe de Lac will join you at course seven.”
“Seven? How many courses are there? Fattening me up for the inevitable end?” he’d called out, but Rashid had rushed off refusing to further entertain Daniel’s questions.
As frustrating as Rashid was, more frustrating still were the numerous phone calls he had to make back home to reassure everyone he was still alive and in possession of all his faculties - with his editors, with his girls - even with one of his ex-wives.
“What were you thinking Daniel?” Alice had sighed, “you know how Kate gets. She thinks it’s Bogotá all over again and that she’s about to receive your hand through the mailbox.”
“You know I don’t take those kinds of assignments anymore, I’m too old for that shit.”
“I know you’re proud and stubborn and would chase the truth for as long as you can still walk,” countered Alice, “and unfortunately - you can still walk. Or you wouldn’t be in Dubai.”
He had been able to calm everyone down in the end, including Kate, who had called him some colourful names before crying on the phone. She had always been the more sensitive one, and Daniel sometimes worried about her. She’d always seemed too sensitive for this world - and definitely too sensitive for law school. He wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to make it in an industry full of bloodsucking leeches, but knew he’d lost all right to comment on his daughter’s choices years ago.
He was still in a bad mood when he walked into the living room.
“Good morning,” said Rashid, “I hope you’ve passed a comfortable night.”
“I never pass a comfortable night,” deadpanned Daniel.
“You were scheduled to have your Levodopa transfusion this week,” Rashid continued, ignoring Daniel’s sass as he tapped on his tablet.
Hackles and eyebrows raised, Daniel asked, “Been tapping my phone?”
Rashid ignored him.
“Mr. de Pointe du Lac has arranged a physician to administer it here, tomorrow.”
Daniel was having none of it.
“Well, I’ll take care of it on my own-”
But Rashid steamrolled over him, “Your doctor in New York was consulted and has given consent - you’ll find a note from him in your electronic mailbox.”
He made a final few taps on his tablet before looking up and smiled at Daniel, as if this were totally normal.
Electronic mailbox . Who even was this guy?
Daniel reluctantly acquiesced, but he mentally added another black mark against Rashid in his book. He made a note to discuss with Louis the concept of boundaries, though he was sure the vampire knew no such thing and didn’t care for them either.
Rashid though, as a human, should have known better.
This back and forth had become a habit anytime they were in the same room. Daniel wasn’t even sure who was truly to be blamed - Rashid or Louis - for having hijacked his entire medical care regimen, effectively trapping him in their Dubai apartment. Much as he hated to admit it, Daniel was both reluctantly grateful and endlessly resentful of this incredible breach of his personal privacy. Most days the resentment outweighed the gratitude - and still, he wouldn’t leave. The fact that they had been able to violate god knows how many laws so seamlessly only made the mystery more intriguing.
One time Daniel walked in on Rashid going through his afternoon prayers - this was after he had been given access to Claudia’s diaries, and he needed to step away. Cynical as he was, there were only so many fucked up things he could read in one sitting - and it made him wonder uncomfortably what he would have found if he were reading his daughter’s diaries instead.
As soon as he saw Rashid and the prayer mat the words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it.
“I thought Louis was your god,” he said, strolling into the living room, “How does Mohammed feel about vampires? Is it Ashura every day here in the penthouse?”
Calmly, without reacting to Daniel’s provocation, Rashid turned to Daniel with a pointed look that made him feel vaguely ashamed of his behaviour.
“Do you have what you need, Mr. Molloy?” He asked, further driving home his exasperation.
Ah - so you do get pissed . Daniel filed away that tidbit of information.
“A cure for Parkinson’s?” he retaliated, quick as a whip.
Rashid went back to ignoring his barbs.
“How is your reading coming along?” the young man asked instead, his tone carefully neutral.
Daniel shrugged, not wanting to let on how much Claudia’s diaries affected him, especially as a father.
“For a killing machine, I kinda like her.”
The look Rashid gave him was deeply unimpressed, clearly tired of Daniel’s attitude. Once again, Daniel had the strangest sense that he ought to feel ashamed of himself. Shame wasn’t exactly a new feeling for Daniel, but it was usually self-inflicted, rather than imposed by others - and he really wasn’t used to being made to feel shame by a man half his age.
“I interrupted,” Daniel said finally - a peace offering, “you were praying.”
It wasn’t quite an apology - Daniel didn’t really do apologies - hence the two failed marriages. But it was still an apology of sorts, if one knew how to listen.
“’Asr namozi,” murmured Rashid, still ignoring Daniel.
It irked Daniel, being ignored by Rashid.
“What is that? That’s not Arabic. What is it, Kazak? Somewhere in the Crimea?”
Rashid still didn’t answer him. He simply rolled his prayer mat, clearly done with the conversation.
“You’re not from Dubai,” stated Daniel, still trying to get Rashid to look at him, “I thought you were a native.”
That was what finally did it. At last, Rashid deigned to look up at him. The superior air was back in full force as he turned his arrogant gaze on Daniel.
“Dubai is a child , Mr. Molloy,” he said, as if Daniel ought to know better, “No one’s a native.”
It wouldn’t be the last time that their little antagonism succeeded in pushing Rashid’s buttons. Daniel was beginning to discover that there were a number of subjects that disturbed Louis - and by extension, Rashid. Claudia was hot poker number one that he liked to prod Louis with, when he was feeling especially mean and reckless.
“Here’s a good one,” he said sarcastically. “Man in the last row of ‘The Son of Sheik’ picture show…’ You said you had cigarettes .’”
He let the words wash over his audience, but Louis and Rashid both seemed utterly unaffected by it.
Rashid was offering himself to Louis for a drink, and Daniel had the uncomfortable feeling that he was watching something terribly intimate, like he ought to have excused himself and given them the space to do…that.
When he saw his words hadn’t gotten the expected reaction from either vampire or man, Daniel clarified.
“It’s a kill list,” he stated plainly.
“Yes,” said Louis, not really paying attention to him.
“In a teenager’s handwriting,” Daniel went on, wanting to impress upon Louis just how fucked up that was, “the final words of her victims.”
“There are forty-two pages, if I remember correctly,” murmured Rashid, positively blissed out. Louis was now sucking blood from the long expanse of Rashid’s exposed neck, and Daniel could see the moment the swoon had hit. Heat bloomed in his stomach and the sight of Rashid’s obvious ecstasy - and almost as if he could read his mind, Rashid met his eyes and smiled, his teeth perfect and white, his eyes softened in pleasure, almost daring Daniel to imagine him like that in bed.
Which Daniel very steadfastly tried not to picture.
“I’m trying to think of something more fucked up than this,” he said instead, coming back to Claudia. This was the story that really mattered - and he wasn’t going to let a pair of pretty eyes distract him.
“And how is your work any different?” said Rashid, frustrated now, “What do you think will happen to Mr. du Lac when you publish this book, when the other vampires of the world get their hands on it?”
Interesting.
Daniel mentally noted Rashid’s obsessive protectiveness of Louis, filed it away in his mind for another time.
He wanted to see how far he could push it.
“As long as they pay full freight,” he commented, purposefully invalidating Rashid’s concerns. This seemed to have been exactly the right way to rile him up even further. Rashid extracted himself from his master’s arms, eyes burning with anger.
“ They will make their way to Dubai. They will scale the sides of this building, force their way inside, and paint the walls with his blood,” he enunciated each word, driving home his point,“You are chronicling a suicide. Do not look down on Claudia. Look in the mirror.”
Louis glared at Rashid, his tone deceptively light.
“Rashid is an opinionated young man - he lives to share these opinions, even when they are not solicited.”
The last point was clearly a dig, and Daniel made a mental note of that too. So. Rashid did not always serve to his god’s liking. Interesting.
His mind wandered to what Rashid must -
“What’s he taste like?” Louis repeated, a faint note of amusement in his voice. Daniel's eyes intentionally never left Louis, his voice flat as he said out loud, “I didn’t ask that.”
Louis’ amusement deepened.
“You were thinking it.”
“Stay out of my head,” said Daniel, hating how helpless he was in the face of a vampire who could read his mind.
“Honey and pineapple,” replied Louis to the question he hadn’t asked out loud.
“He stuffs himself with both for days before he offers himself to me. Would you like to sample?”
Daniel felt weary of this whole exchange - he willed himself not to react but the way Louis was peering into his mind like glass was unnerving.
“I’ll wait till Damek comes around again,” he replied sarcastically, “I’m a savoury man, most days.”
All while this exchange was taking place Rashid was positively vibrating with barely restrained energy. He was provoked now, and he wouldn’t back down.
“I care for him more than he cares for himself,” he declared at Daniel, “And I wouldn’t let you near my neck if you were -”
“Sixty-two and a half kilograms,” interrupted Louis.
“What?” asked Rashid faintly, a strange distant look coming over his face.
Louis ignored him.
“One hundred and thirty-eight pounds, for the metrically challenged,” he said, and Daniel understood he was having his mind read again - but Louis’ words seemed to be for Rashid rather than Daniel.
“Daniel here was wondering how much you weigh, Rashid. So I told him –”
“Stay out of my head,” Daniel repeated, more insistently this time, for all the good it did.
“Sleep, pray, eat, pray, swim, pray, et cetera,” continued Louis, a little droll, a little cruel, “On days he’s a plump one-thirty-nine, I believe he swims twice. Metronomic, my Rashid.”
Feeling helpless, Daniel chose to be a dick and deliberately placed his glass of water before Rashid.
“Refill .” he snapped. It was a lame power play - but the only one he had in his arsenal. Rashid didn’t bite. He threw a final contemptuous look at Daniel, before turning on his heels, leaving the room without saying another word.
***
It finally came to a head one day, when Daniel pushed Louis too far on the subject of Claudia. Daniel just couldn’t help himself - had never been good at self-preservation - and here he’d definitely pushed too far.
To his complete horror, his hand started shaking completely against his will - and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it wasn't Parkinson's. It was fucking vampire bullshit and Daniel felt such blind terror and helpless rage at it that if he’d been able to, he’d have screamed.
“Don’t ask again.” said Louis, a final word of warning.
The shaking was becoming out of control - Daniel fought with all his force to still it, but nothing he did could make it stop.
Rashid spoke, standing behind Louis like his protector, but Daniel barely heard him.
“Mr. du Lac occasionally finds it difficult to talk about Claudia…”
Daniel looked up and glared at Rashid.
“Got that.”
The shaking stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Daniel got up to his feet.
“Mr. du Lac would like to apologise and continue with the interview if you are -”
The slap rang out shockingly loud across the room. Daniel almost stunned himself with his own daring and found his hands were still shaking when he sat back down. He put his glasses back on just to give his hands something to do.
“Still recording.”
***
Still, though. It was curious.
What was the relationship between Rashid and Louis?
Daniel couldn’t quite figure it out. He didn’t for one second believe that Rashid was just a PA - or a convenient source of blood. Was it like a cult thing? Did Rashid really mean it when he said he served a god? How did he square that with believing in God?
These were just some of the many questions that Daniel pondered whenever he watched the two in the same room.
These were the questions he was pondering when Louis had had the gall to offer him immortality.
They had been reminiscing about nineteen seventy-three.
“In the eyes of a twenty-year old, you were wasting the gift,” explained Daniel, still marvelling at how dumb he had been.
“You’re in your twenties, Rashid,” Louis called out to Rashid, who was quietly tapping away at his tablet in the background, “What do you think?”
Rashid seemed to consider this question seriously, turning it this way and that in his head before meeting Daniel’s eyes.
“Well, Mr. du Lac presides over the most desired real estate in the country,” he said thoughtfully, “I do not see the waste Mr. Molloy sees.”
Daniel wanted to roll his eyes.
“Yeah, well, he lived in a dump the last time we did this.”
“I’d give it to you, now.”
Time seemed to pause for an eternity. Daniel almost thought he had misheard, but when he watched Louis he saw those green eyes bore through him like he could read his very soul.
“A still hand,” he continued, voice deceptively soft and gentle, “Time to watch your daughters marry.”
The absolute nerve of it. Daniel wasn’t falling for it. His face twisted into a bitter facsimile of a smile.
“And divorce and die,” he said, voice full of irony. He glanced over, seeing Rashid working in the background, blending into the walls and artwork as if he were of no more consequence than a fly.
But Daniel knew better. With a nod towards Rashid, he said unkindly.
“Save it for the rent boy.”
Daniel saw the moment his words had landed. Rashid froze, his eyes becoming carefully blank before he looked up from his tablet.
“May I be excused, Mr. du Lac?”
Louis didn’t even turn back to look at him.
“Are you planning on slapping me again, Daniel?” He asked.
“No,” said Daniel, as if he had seriously considered it while opening his can of coke - rather than simply being lucky that Louis hadn’t drained him dry last time for the disrespect.
***
As the interviews progressed, he dreamed of San Francisco. Of the first time he met Louis.
He’d still been half in denial then. He wasn’t really into men - he was just looking to score - that sort of reasoning. Gay bars were the best place to score, and god knew you couldn’t just expect something for nothing, it would’ve been rude, right?
Idiot.
He dreamed of Louis as he had appeared to him then - hot as fuck . When he’d just been some green-eyed weirdo who claimed to be a vampire - young Daniel had no preservation instincts and he’d liked weirdos. Plus it was the seventies - everyone was high as a kite. Claiming to be a vampire wasn’t even the weirdest thing Daniel had ever heard at that point. Truthfully, Daniel still liked weirdos - but he was a bit better at preserving his skin these days than he used to be.
He remembered wanting Louis. He hadn’t ever really considered himself queer or bi or whatever back then - even though he’d absolutely jerked off before to magazine spreads of Marc Bolan and David Bowie. But he remembered that clearly. He’d gone in willing to offer himself for angel dust or coke, and found himself instead willing to offer himself for nothing.
Just an interview.
And Louis had agreed.
There had been someone else.
He saw Louis speak to someone, asking him if he wanted to join. Probably his boyfriend.
“That ok with you? Would you like to join us?”
“No, you go ahead and have your fun.”
Rashid. In Daniel’s dreams, the man Louis spoke to was Rashid - the gleaming black hair was longer and tied back into a sort of ponytail. He wore a gay little green scarf tied around his neck and his even blacker eyes had borne holes into Daniel’s own, but there was no denying who it was.
A jolt of desire went through Daniel then.
I’d do both of you.
But dream Rashid had looked at him like he was no more worthy of attention than an ant beneath his boot. He turned on his heels and left.
Daniel startled awake on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over him. He wondered which of the two had done it, had covered him with this blanket in such an oddly intimate gesture and the thought came immediately - Rashid . Of course it was Rashid.
The dream was already quickly fading, but Daniel couldn’t shake the cold sinking sensation that he was missing something key.
***
From that moment on Daniel’s awareness of Rashid seemed to take on a life of its own. Even when he was in the depths of the most harrowing horrors being confessed by Louis, his eyes followed the elegant young man with the devastating eyes and divine curls.
Who was he, really?
And why was he appearing in Daniel’s dreams?
He’d always known Rashid was handsome, in the way that anyone with eyes could see that Paul Newman or Harrison Ford were handsome - he knew it with a certain sense of detachment, never really considering whether he, Daniel Molloy, personally considered him handsome.
That sense of detachment had gone entirely. Daniel blamed the blatant display of exhibitionism for his newfound fixation - the sight of Louis feeding on Rashid’s long neck, of the way Rashid’s lips had parted at the first puncture of Louis’s teeth and how his eyes had hooded into sensuous pleasure as the swoon hit was going to be forever engraved onto his brain, thank you very much.
Daniel now couldn’t stop thinking of Rashid, couldn’t stop watching him. He was personally invested in committing to memory the way Rashid walked - his tidy elegant strides - or the distinctive way in which his long, delicate fingers and slender wrists curled around a glass or typed on a tablet.
And sometimes, when Daniel was at his most delusional, he wondered if Rashid himself wasn’t a vampire - if he hadn’t somehow bewitched him with vampire trickery, if this wasn’t all somehow an intentional distraction. But then Daniel would see him answering his phone in direct sunlight, and he would tell himself he was being ridiculous. Of course Rashid wasn’t a vampire.
But whether Rashid was intentionally working on distracting Daniel or not was a theory that was still open for testing. Daniel had lost track of the number of times their eyes had caught from across the room, the number of times Rashid seemed to appear even when there was clearly no reason for him to be there.
And it all only made Daniel more suspicious.
He cornered Rashid one day after another afternoon prayer.
“I’m onto you,” he said, arms folded across his chest.
Rashid rolled his prayer mat, watching Daniel with curiosity.
“Mr. Molloy?”
“I know you’re up to something. And I’ll find out what it is.”
“Well, which is it, Mr. Molloy?” Rashid asked archly, “am I a mastermind or am I just ‘ the rent boy ’?”
“Hit a nerve there, did I?” Another mental note Daniel filed away for later. ‘Rent boy’ was personal somehow.
“Would you have liked it?” challenged Rashid, “Being dismissed as a rent boy ?”
In all honesty Daniel had been called many worse things in his life - and once upon a colourful youth had even turned tricks to score, so he didn’t personally consider the term insulting - but he also knew he said it to be a dick, and it was probably fair enough that Rashid had been insulted by it.
He shrugged.
“If the shoe fits.”
Rashid seemed to consider this for a moment before responding.
“It was always an ill-fitting shoe,” said Rashid, “one I was once forced to wear. Thankfully, not one I need to wear anymore.”
A truth.
Well. That put a damper on things.
It wasn’t quite as fun antagonising someone when they’d actually been exploited.
Immediately, Daniel cursed himself and his big mouth.
“I shouldn’t have said that, I apologise.”
“Your apology is accepted, though might I suggest next time you think before you speak? It might save you some trouble.”
And just like that any empathy Daniel had felt for Rashid disappeared. Smug little shit.
“Seriously?”
Rashid gave him an enigmatic smile, clearly pleased with himself.
“You don’t have a monopoly on pointless antagonism, Mr. Molloy.”
And that was him told.
***
This verbal sparring seemed to be leading up to something, though Daniel was never quite sure what. He’d never wanted to make assumptions about Rashid’s intentions - at least not where he was concerned - but sometimes he did wonder.
One afternoon changed all that. Daniel had been in the living room, re-listening to the old tapes on the sofa when Rashid walked in.
Something shifted. Daniel couldn’t put a finger down exactly on what, but the energy that was emanating from the young man was off the charts - he had the look of a man on a mission and when his eyes landed on Daniel he didn’t stop walking until he was standing right in front of him, looking down at him from his elegant height.
Daniel removed his earphones, more troubled and intrigued than he wanted to let on.
“Can I help you…?”
“I’m tired of playing games,” said Rashid, his words seeming to be laced with meaning, “aren’t you?”
Daniel was sure he heard wrong. He met Rashid’s eyes trying to discern mockery or amusement but there was none - just a very frank assessing stare back.
“Have we been playing?” he stalled.
“Haven’t we, Mr. Molloy?” Rashid asked silkily.
He circled Daniel, as if he were nothing more than prey, giving Daniel plenty of time to move should he wished to.
Daniel didn’t move. He was stubborn like that. He wasn’t going to give ground or admit defeat to whatever this was. Still - he hadn’t been prepared for the moment Rashid leaned forward and suddenly straddled Daniel’s hips - it gave Daniel such whiplash for a moment he thought he would push Rashid right off.
“What are you doing?” Daniel asked. He’d wanted to sound affronted, but the tremor of insecurity in his voice was unmistakable - laced with something else.
Fear.
Real, genuine heart stopping fear.
And of what?
This boy?
It was absurd.
But Daniel’s instincts were blaring, deafening as sirens - just as Rashid’s lips curled into a half-amused smile, baring shiny white teeth.
“Do I need to spell it out?” he asked, still speaking plainly, “I want you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” stated Daniel. Rashid inclined his head to the side like a cat.
“Why?”
“I might be an asshole, but I do have some self-respect and I’m not so delusional that I’d believe someone like you would want someone like me. So what is it? What’s your angle?”
Rashid looked at him then, gaze wandering from his eyes to his lips and neck and suddenly Daniel had never felt so exposed in his life.
“Someone like me?” Rashid asked softly.
“Young. Hot. Whatever.”
Daniel was self-aware enough that he could admit he found Rashid hot - that that was part of what lay at the heart of his fixation. If he were completely honest with himself, laced in with the siren-blasting fear was an uncomfortable tangle of heat and desire for the very convincing want in Rashid’s gaze - like he wanted to eat him up - bones and sinew and all.
“And you? A two-time Pulitzer winning journalist? A best-selling author?” Rashid leant forward, his breath now tickling Daniel’s ear, “is it so hard to imagine that I might desperately want you?”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” huffed Daniel, finally pushing Rashid off his lap. Rashid took this in his stride, still looking at Daniel like a cat watching a very amusing mouse.
“I don’t do flattery, Mr. Molloy.”
“Oh yeah? What would you call that little display earlier?”
“A proposition. Am I to understand it was unwelcome?”
“ Most unwelcome ,” Daniel sneered, mocking Rashid’s manner of speaking, “I don’t know what you’re up to but you can just stop. I’m not here to write puff-pieces about your ‘god’ and frankly I’m insulted that this is the tactic you chose to lead with.”
Rashid’s smile turned slightly sad but he didn’t seem undeterred.
“Ever the hardened and cynical journalist. Very well. I’m patient - I’ve waited long enough. I don’t mind waiting a bit more.”
“You can wait forever!” Daniel called out to Rashid’s retreating back, wanting the last word. It was immature, and he knew it, but Daniel could never stand losing an argument.
Funny, he still felt Rashid had won somehow.
***
Interviews with Louis became increasingly unbearable, and all because of the mostly discreet man moving silently in the background.
That afternoon in the library had done something to Daniel, awoke feelings in him he’d buried a long, long time ago.
He almost wished Rashid would disappear entirely. He was conscious he was being a poor reporter, allowing himself to be distracted from his subject by someone with questionable motives. His incisive observations were being turned on the wrong person, allowing his true subject moments where he didn’t pick up a tell; didn’t challenge a contradiction.
Instead, he found himself looking at Rashid’s curls - those thick, glossy black curls that looked like they would be simply divine to card one’s fingers through. The long line of his exposed neck, that invited one’s gaze to wonder from his jaw down to his chest.
And Rashid himself wasn’t helping.
The most devastating and offensive assault on Daniel’s sensibilities were the fuck-me eyes Rashid turned on him whenever Louis wasn’t looking. There were truly no other words to describe them - and it only infuriated Daniel even more. What was this guy playing at?
And why did this feel strangely familiar?
Daniel had resolved to ignore Rashid with his delectable curls and fuck-me eyes, throwing up the largest, iciest barrier between the two of them humanly possible.
But then Rashid escalated to touch.
The faintest, barest, barely-there touch.
And it drove Daniel insane.
A pinky, barely grazing his hand as he collected Daniel’s cup for a refill.
The brush of an arm against his, as Rashid leaned over in his immaculate gloves to show Daniel diaries and letters from Louis’ archive. Daniel noted he wore a warm, spicy amber scent with a subtle note of oud.
It was heaven. It was hell.
And Daniel wanted.
He wanted to pull on those curls, to expose that pretty neck and breathe him in deeply. Wanted to pull him onto his lap and hold him, stroke his fetching hair and tell him he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
It was sick. He was ridiculous.
Eventually, it came around full circle. Daniel had been out-grumped, out-quipped - he had nothing left to do but actually talk to Rashid. Like an adult.
Daniel was not used to taking the higher road, but he had no choice. He had been manoeuvred in a corner. He desperately wanted to finish the interview with Louis - desperately wanted to have one last crowning achievement before he croaked it and whatever happened he refused to leave Dubai empty-handed.
But god knows he couldn’t do his work properly if he was going to be constantly distracted by the help for chrissakes.
Daniel cornered Rashid one day in the living room, when Louis was asleep.
“You’ve got to stop,” he said, not even bothering to greet Rashid.
“Stop what, Mr. Molloy?”
“The looks, the touching - all of it - just stop.”
“I’m not sure exactly what you want me to do, Mr. Molloy - I’m only being myself.”
“You’ve made your point. You’re very attractive - I find you very attractive, ok? Hooray - you win. Now leave me the fuck alone.”
Rashid grinned, predatory with a flash of white teeth, overly pleased with himself.
“And here I thought we were done playing games.”
“I think you do nothing but play games. I don’t think you have a single honest bone in your body.”
“That’s quite hurtful, Daniel.” said Rashid with mock hurt. He was totally enjoying this, the bastard.
“Oh boo hoo, cry me a river with your crocodile tears.”
Rashid laughed. It was somehow simultaneously the most beautiful and bone-chilling sound Daniel had ever heard.
“Will you keep insulting me Daniel? Attacking my character? What will make you safe enough to let your guard down around me?”
“Nothing in the world I think,” Daniel said, surprising himself with an honest answer.
Rashid clocked it too.
“ Ah - there it is. A truth at last.”
“Oh screw you - I’ve been nothing but truthful. You’re the one giving fuck-me eyes to a man old enough to be your grandpa - how’s that truthful?”
“ Fuck-me eyes ?” Rashid repeated, the words sounding even more obscene in his clipped voice, “oh I think I like that. What exactly are fuck-me eyes ? How exactly have my eyes offended you?”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“Am I?”
“I mean it - you really need to stop.”
“Oh Daniel, but I’ve waited for so long.”
And then it happened. Time slowed as Rashid took a step forward, once again giving Daniel plenty of time to move should he so wished.
He didn’t move.
Carefully, delicately, Rashid cupped Daniel’s face in his long elegant fingers, then pulled Daniel’s lips to his for an open mouth kiss.
I’m dreaming, was Daniel’s first thought, you’ve finally turned into one of those dirty old men that fantasises about someone embarrassingly younger than you.
But his dreams had never felt so warm and when he put his hands tentatively on Rashid’s waist, his dreams had never felt so solid.
Rashid moaned, taking Daniel’s touch as consent to go further. He threw his arms around Daniel’s neck, kissing Daniel like he was the last drop of water in a desert - like he was the air he needed to breathe to survive.
It was heady and intense. Rashid kissed like someone starving and Daniel hadn’t realised just how starved for it he had been himself until he’d opened his mouth and allowed Rashid to deepen the kiss, fucking his mouth with his tongue.
It was as Rashid’s hands began to run over his chest that doubts began to creeping back into Daniel’s mind - he wasn’t sure what kind of fantasy of an older man Rashid had built up in his head - but there was no way it would reflect the reality. Daniel’s best years were long behind him - his flesh was soft, wrinkled - he certainly didn’t look as divine as Rashid felt.
He pulled back, attempting to gather his thoughts. Sensing Daniel’s hesitation Rashid took to renewing with fervour his overtures.
“Please, please, please Daniel,” he murmured between gentle desperate kisses along his neck, “don’t turn me away now. I couldn’t bear it.”
Somehow that was the thing that cracked Daniel’s last resolve. Whatever else he was, the vulnerability in Rashid’s voice at that moment was very real - that or he was an exceptional actor and deserved all the fucking Oscars because as cynical as he was, Daniel couldn’t believe that that note of something in his voice wasn’t the genuine article.
***
That was the first time. Daniel had sucked Rashid off on the sofa like he was still in college and Rashid had brought him off with his exquisite, elegant hands. The sight of his cum spilling all over Rashid’s long fingers was going to be engraved on his brain until the day he died, Daniel thought. Though Rashid had seemed keen to take things further, Daniel hadn’t been ready to do more - hadn’t even been entirely certain he’d be able to get it up, regardless of how hot Rashid was. It had been fervent and desperate and somehow still a bit innocent - if either of them had ever been such a thing. Daniel’s only explanation for it was that it had been so long for him he almost felt like a virgin again - how did one touch another’s body? What was one meant to do? And more to the point, would his decrepit old body still follow through with what his mind wanted it to do?
Rashid lay his head against Daniel’s bare chest, his face lit up with a rare, truly genuine smile and Daniel had the pleasure of stroking Rashid’s beautiful curls to his heart’s content.
It felt too good to be true.
“Should I be worried that an angry vampire might try to rip out my throat?” asked Daniel, finally wondering if maybe he should have been more concerned with his mortality than with the mechanics of his body.
Rashid laughed softly, his hand tracing circles of Daniel’s chest.
“I wouldn’t worry about him. Mr. du Lac doesn’t mind.”
That seemed to imply that Louis knew. Not that Daniel wanted to talk to Louis about it. This opened up other questions that Daniel was dying to ask.
“Okay…so you and Louis are…? What, exactly?”
Smooth, Daniel. Smooth.
Rashid seemed to consider this a moment.
“I’m devoted to him - I live to serve him. That is the nature of our relationship.”
It was a weird way of answering his question, and Daniel was a little put out by it. Rashid seemed entirely lucid, and entirely of his right mind - but his answer was more than a little creepy and did nothing to reassure Daniel that sleeping with him wasn’t going to be a disaster.
“Right. Not a real answer, by the way.”
Rashid flicked his dark eyes up beneath his lashes, holding Daniel’s gaze as if daring him to challenge him.
“It’s the only one I will give you.”
***
It became a habit. They fell into a sort of routine - during the day, whenever Louis was asleep either Daniel would find Rashid in the living room, or Rashid would wait for Daniel in his chambers.
It was like being a teenager again - a lot of hot and heavy making out, and a lot of giggling and touching and Daniel wondered if this was the happiest he had been in years.
Astonishing, what a world of good getting laid did for you.
And by god Rashid was hot . Sometimes Daniel couldn’t believe his luck, especially when he had Rashid stretched out on the bed beneath him. He could have worshipped that man all day, for the rest of his life - starting from the gentle arch of his foot, the lean musculature of his calves and thighs all the way to his surprisingly broad chest and dark nipples. Daniel devoured every inch of him in open mouth kisses that Rashid savoured, as was his due.
One time Rashid was straddling Daniel’s lap, mauling him with a ferociousness that took them both by surprise, tugging on Daniel’s hair like he wanted to make him hurt, just a little.
And Daniel liked it. He’d liked it a lot.
“What do you need, boss?” The word had slipped out without Daniel even realising - where had it come from? He had no idea.
It made Rashid smile, sharp as knives. He tugged on Daniel’s hair a little harder, forcing him to expose his neck as Rashid gently nipped at his earlobe and then continued his gentle biting down towards the juncture of his shoulders.
“Boss? Oh, I like that. Say it again, darling boy…”
“I’m not a boy,” Daniel protested, “I’m old enough to be your father.”
Rashid tightened his grip on Daniel’s curls - a warning.
“You’re my darling boy,” purred Rashid, “that’s all that really matters. And what I need , my dearest beloved, is for you to worship at my feet. I want you to show me how much you want me - convince me that I’m the only one on this earth you have eyes for.”
That wouldn’t be hard. It was all true anyway - Daniel only had eyes for Rashid, couldn’t remember what it felt like to desire anyone else as much as he wanted his angel of torment.
“Anything, boss,” he had murmured reverently, pushing Rashid onto his back, “ Anything you want - it’s yours.”
The smile Rashid had flashed up at him had been positively wicked, sinful - and very very pleased with himself. It made Daniel’s insides squirm - my god, how he wanted to give this man the world on a platter.
“ Good boy .”
Daniel shuddered, trembling with pleasure unprepared for how he would react to being called that.
That was the moment when Daniel realised he was well and truly fucked .
***
Whenever they were around each other they both could barely stop smiling - it was embarrassing how transparent they were. Between the vampire hearing and mind-reading Daniel was almost too ashamed to look Louis in the eye - lest he get a mental eyeful of all the different ways Daniel and his glorified PA have been fucking.
Something had shifted ever since Daniel had let the word ‘boss’ slip - something important, beyond just the vaguely kinky dent on their sexual activities - though at first Daniel couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
It all felt familiar somehow - yet Daniel was certain he’d never had explored this kind of dynamic with a partner before. It niggled at something in the back of his mind - but all higher-level thinking tended to fly out the window when Rashid was involved.
Daniel’s personal favourite was how he’d lie in wait in Daniel’s room, throwing himself at Daniel as soon as he walked through the door - smothering him in kisses and cleverly undoing all of Daniel’s clothes.
“ Need you - needed you all day, please -” Rashid would beg and any sensible thought Daniel might have had would dissolve into mush.
“What do you want, boss?” he’d asked between open-mouthed kisses all along Rashid’s perfect neck as he worked on removing Rashid’s shirt.
“ You . Your mouth on me, now. ”
And Daniel would oblige. He would always oblige - anything Rashid wanted, Daniel was only too happy to supply - his mouth, his cock, his hands - anything.
Watching Rashid ride him, his head thrown back in ecstasy, the long line of his neck exposed as Daniel consumed every expanse of skin available to him was like a religious experience - and when their eyes locked and breaths intermingled Daniel thought he could die then. Everything was perfect and if he died in that moment he would be okay with it.
“Tell me you love me,” Rashid would sometimes moan against his ear, “tell me you love me, only me .”
It was perhaps one of the few moments that would jar Daniel out of the moment - the twinge of his conscience perhaps. Something was deeply fucked up here - clearly. But in those moments, even this, Daniel couldn’t deny him. In those moments, he even believed it.
“ I love you , just you - god you’re fucking beautiful… ”
And Rashid would smile and it was all worth it.
***
But Daniel had never been able to leave things well enough alone. As deliriously happy as being with Rashid made him - whatever it was they had - something about the whole situation nagged at him. He didn’t know why Rashid wanted him, didn’t know exactly what kind of fantasy Rashid had spun in his head (there was no way anyone was convincing Daniel that this young Adonis wanted him just for him).
It took a few weeks, but Daniel finally figured it out.
Rashid fucked him as if he knew him - as if there was a history there, and Daniel knew damn well there wasn’t.
Which could only mean one thing.
“Who is it?” He asked one day, determined to ruin the post-coital bliss that had settled on them both. They were lying in Daniel’s bed, with Rashid’s dark head against his chest, Daniel playing with his curls as he was wont to do, whenever they did this.
Rashid turned his head and peered up at him, his wide dark eyes the very picture of innocence.
“Beloved?”
“Who are you thinking of, when we’re together?”
Daniel knew he had no right to ask - really, he should be grateful that Rashid was giving him the time of day at all. But the instincts and habits he’d developed as an investigative reporter meant he could never let sleeping dogs lie. Another reason his marriages had failed.
Rashid sighed in contentment as he ran his hands through the greying hair on Daniel’s chest.
“You, Daniel. Only you.”
That irritated Daniel. He knew he was wrong for asking, but surely now that he’s asked Rashid could at least tell him the truth?
He fought to keep his voice even, to keep his tone neutral in the hopes that it would encourage Rashid to open up.
“C’mon now. It’s ok - I wouldn’t judge. I know I’m no picture to look at. Is this a captive kind of situation? You can't leave the apartment to get your kicks elsewhere? Blink twice if you need me to break you out.”
Rashid sighed again, but this time there was a note of weariness in it. He sat up and cupped Daniel’s face in his, kissing him deeply before pulling back and stroking his cheek, his black eyes looking directly into Daniel’s soul.
“You are the most beautiful man in the world to me. My fascinating boy.”
Something twisted, sharp and painful in Daniel’s chest.
“How do you do that?” he asked, bitter.
“What, beloved?”
“I know you can’t be telling the truth,” said Daniel, watching Rashid in a new critical light, his words coming out slowly, “but you sound so convincing.”
Rashid rolled his eyes, some of the old sass coming back.
“Because I am telling the truth, Daniel. What must I do for you to believe me?”
I don’t know , thought Daniel. And that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t trust Rashid or his motives as far as he could throw him. But maybe if Rashid told him one truth, he could forgive the rest.
“Tell me, who was he?” Daniel asked again, determined to be a masochistic bastard.
“Who?” responded Rashid, bored now. He’d turned away from Daniel and was looking off into the middle distance, clearly done with the conversation, but Daniel wasn’t letting it go.
“Whoever it is you’re thinking of when we’re…”
“Making love?” supplied Rashid.
Making love. It wasn’t the word Daniel would have used - after all, what did love have to do with it? They barely knew each other.
“Right.” he said slowly instead, which was almost as bad.
Rashid turned to face him, his dark eyes flashing now the way they sometimes did when Daniel knew he’d pushed his buttons a bit too far.
“I’ve already told you.”
But Daniel shook his head.
“I know what you said but I don’t believe you- we’ve never met before but you kiss me like - like well, you kiss me like someone who has known me all my life. But we’ve never met before. We haven’t met before…right?”
Daniel had flashes sometimes. They came to him in the day, or during his dreams. He didn’t think they were real - in these flashes he’d see the flash of a sharp white canine, the silk gloss of midnight hair, a tempting flash of burnished skin - it was clearly Rashid. But the context of these flashes were all impossible. All places and situations he’d experienced in his twenties and early thirties - concerts in LA, the apartment in San Francisco, a work trip to Paris and Budapest. This affair was clearly messing with his head - he was superimposing Rashid on some of the best memories of his life, and yet.
A part of him wondered.
Had they met before? They’d definitely never slept with each other before. Daniel had many faults, but sleeping with pretty boys less than half his age was, thankfully, not one of them. He could count on one hand all the people he’d slept with in the last twenty years, effectively eliminating Rashid.
And yet.
The way Rashid spoke to him - the way he kissed him. It was too intimate for someone who had just met him. The yearning - in his eyes, in his touch, in his voice - the thing that killed Daniel and got to him every single time. It was the kind of yearning you only developed with a lifetime of knowing someone, a lifetime of loving them and never having them.
Was he a former student? God, that would be embarrassing. And if it wasn’t Daniel he was yearning for - if Daniel was a useful stand-in for whoever Rashid was projecting…
The thought alone made Daniel feel a little ill, and a little like whoever was responsible for giving Rashid an old-man fetish ought to be put in jail.
“We’ve never met before,” Rashid assured him - but Daniel caught it.
He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was - a micro flicker of the eyes? The too carefully steady tone of voice? And yet he had caught it - Rashid was lying. Daniel was sure of it.
“Right,” he enunciated slowly, “so we’ve never met before - and you just happen to fuck every old man you meet like they are the love of your life and you’ve been pining for them for years, is that right? If I ever meet the sick bastard you’re projecting onto me, I think I might kill him myself.”
Anger flashed across Rashid’s face, there and then gone just as quickly as it had come.
“I’m not projecting,” he insisted, “I might look young, but I’m not. Don’t be fooled by appearances, Mr Molloy, I may be in service, but I’m not a servant and I make my own decisions. You. I want you.”
Daniel sighed. A part of him wanted desperately to believe him. He liked Rashid. Enjoyed their verbal sparring - and when Rashid melted against him like a kitten it made him feel desirable, made him reconnect with a tenderness that he hadn’t felt in decades.
He just wished he could trust him. Trust himself - that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
Again.
But he couldn’t. Nothing about the situation felt right.
As gently as he could, he untangled himself from Rashid’s arms.
“Rashid, I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”
Daniel sensed Rashid freeze, saw the exact moment the mask of indifference came back down again.
“Oh?” If hell froze over it wouldn’t have been able to match the ice in Rashid’s tone then.
Daniel felt like an asshole for looking a gift horse in the mouth, for hurting Rashid like this but really. Who were they kidding? Rashid would get over it. The only thing really damaged here was his ego - which Daniel could understand. If he’d looked like Rashid and some old man had the audacity to break up with him he might’ve felt some kind of way about it too, but he was certain he was doing the right thing. Whatever was happening here was obviously unhealthy, and Daniel might have been many things but he liked to think he wasn’t someone who knowingly exploited someone else’s vulnerabilities.
“C’mon. Even you’ve got to admit this is a terrible idea - was always a terrible idea. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t see a single way in which this ends well.”
“You don’t want to hurt me,” Rashid echoed bitterly, “I’m curious, are you worried about how it ends for me ? Or how it ends for you ?”
He swivelled and turned the full force of his black eyes on Daniel.
“You’re a coward. I don’t think you’re that concerned about hurting me, Mr. Malloy - I think the only thing you’re concerned with is protecting yourself.”
Those were Rashid’s last words before he flounced off, taking Daniel’s happiness with him.
***
Things soured between them after that, and Daniel had only himself to blame. There were no longer any unguarded smiles or giggles, no Rashid waiting for him in his room - all warmth and tenderness had vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place.
One foot in the grave and still capable of fucking up perfectly pleasant relationships, aren’t you? He reflected bitterly. The fire that kept him warm at night was the unshaken belief that he was right - both Louis and Rashid had been lying to him. And he was determined to find out about what, even if it killed him.
And he was getting closer to uncovering that lie day by day, he could feel it.
“They take the trash to the dump,” Daniel said, leaning across the table with narrowed eyes.
“And having lived two blocks away from the dump just outside of Fishkill, New York, with my first wife, I can state with authority what else you’ll find there: rats. Big fuckin’ rats, the size of Kevin Durant’s sneakers. Enough blood in them to bring back the dead, especially one in a truck with locks on the inside.”
Daniel watched without mercy as Louis shook his head, refusing to admit to his own complicity.
“You knew it, Louis, you had to. The biggest rat-eater of them all.”
“This session is over,” thundered Rashid, but Daniel pushed right past him, not interested in letting go of the lead he’d caught.
But as he pushed past Rashid, quick as a flash he saw the other thread he could pull to unravel all the lies.
“How many days in the Islamic year?” He threw at him, “How many names are there for Allah?”
Rashid was just as quick on his toes, and Daniel had the oddest feeling that although he was interrogating Louis, his real sparring partner was actually his dark-eyed mystery.
“Three hundred and fifty-five, and ninety-nine.”
But Daniel wasn’t done. He threw all his suspicions one after the other like he was back on a schoolyard, playing the most aggressive game of catch.
“Why does a two-hundred pound bouncer pass out after he sucks him off, and you, a wet T-shirt away from one-thirty, doesn’t even blink?”
Louis shook his head.
“I couldn’t burn him…”
Louis ran from Daniel, ran to the magnolia room and Daniel followed right behind him, relentless and determined.
“But Claudia could,”
“No, she couldn’t.”
“She stuck a pen in his neck,” declared Daniel, “She recorded his last words in his own blood. The girl did not have a fuckin’ problem tossing him on the grill, okay?”
“I said no!”
“Was it raining, Louis?”
“She couldn’t burn him,”
“You cursed her into the darkness,” Daniel pressed, “You chose Lestat over her, time and time again. You don’t need a memoir , Louis. You need a hundred sessions of EMDR. You know, the shit they put soldiers through when they see one of their platoon buddies get blown up in front of them?”
Rashid was still there, following them in the background but Daniel was so close to breaking
Louis he could taste it - he didn’t bother to look back.
“You’ve only heard half the story,” he vaguely heard Rashid say.
“Stop…”
“One hundred and forty-four years of life,” continued Daniel mercilessly, “and you’re still Louis the pimp, paying a whore to sit in a room and talk with you. Why? Cause you got some story you wanna tell the whole world about yourself?”
“When you hear it, you’ll be ashamed,” said Rashid, voice trembling in anger, “ Ashamed of what you say to him now.”
“Please stop, Rashid.”
“Ten million dollars,” declared Daniel, “That’s my whore number. Career’s been over for years. Legacy? That’s for board members and assholes in loafers. My daughters aren’t even speaking to me anymore, so at least I can leave them some cash. But an honest reckoning? No. This is the same shit that happened in San Francisco.”
“Not exactly,” murmured Louis.
“How is it any different, Louis?” Daniel demanded. He had been so focused on breaking Louis that he almost hadn’t noticed the fuckery that was taking place behind him.
It was only when Rashid spoke again, this time his voice much more assertive than before, that Daniel finally turned around to increasing horror.
“ This time,” said Rashid as he began to float, “I won’t save your life. Louis can sometimes act out. I protect him from himself, always have. I stopped him that night in San Francisco.”
At first he thought he was hallucinating. He watched, frozen in terror as Rashid floated in the air, fetching a book from the highest shelf several metres up.
“You were there,” Daniel said, finally regaining the ability to speak.
“You don’t remember, do you?” Louis remarked, watching Daniel’s wide-eyed stare as he followed Rashid’s movements.
“No,” he muttered, “I don’t remember.”
“What was it that you said about memory?” asked Louis ironically, “A monster, was it?”
Daniel was barely listening to him. He just watched as Rashid moved across the air as if he weighed no more than a feather.
“But…I saw you standing in the sun.”
Rashid floated downwards finally, placing a book in Daniel’s hands.
“As we age, the sun loses its power over us. What’s a mediocre star to a five hundred and fourteen year old vampire?”
Five-hundred and fourteen years old? Daniel watched Rashid in disbelief, trying to square this new information with what he’d known about the young man - the one who had laughed in his arms and liked having his hair stroked.
If Louis was aware of Daniel’s emotional turmoil beyond the shock of discovering that Rashid was a vampire, he didn’t show it.
“Daniel Molloy,” Louis said, with a smile, “I’d like you to meet the vampire Armand. The love of my life.”
All the air went out of Daniel’s lungs then. He watched in dread as Rashid - Armand - took Louis’ hand in his - as they both watched him united, defiant - and Daniel thought he was going to be sick from the betrayal and humiliation of it all.
And for once in his dumb life, he was speechless.
He needed to leave. Now.
“I need to go.”
He was about to do so when a voice spoke to him in his mind.
Don’t leave. He needs you to finish telling his story.
It freaked him the fuck out. He could feel his breath quicken as panic began to take over.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” he muttered, running away and leaving the magnolia room as quickly as he could. He couldn’t stand the sight of either of them right then.
With a final terrified push, he stumbled through the doors of the nearest bathroom and became violently sick.