Author's Note: What's this? Two updates in two days!? I guess being sick has its advantages :P Just a heads up, this chapter gets a little violent so trigger warning for blood, gore, all of that icky stuff. And also, please don't hate me too much. This isn't TUW, I swear, but there has to be a few rough patches, huh? I gotta keep things interesting. Enjoy! :)
"So… what did you think?"
She beams up at me with an overly enthusiastic gaze, wrapping herself around my arm as we exit the cinema along with dozens of other movie-goers. We all flood out into the darkened streets, the lights from the buildings and street lamps shining the way. I rarely go to cinema— in fact, I can count the number of times I've been on a single hand, but Cosima had insisted on taking me to a late-night screening of one of her favourite films and as usual, I found myself bending to her will.
"It was… entertaining," I say, finding the right word to settle on.
I can't say it really appeals to my tastes, but I understand why Cosima is so fond of the space opera; such a grand fantasy would undoubtedly appeal to her vast imagination.
"It's "entertaining?" What, that's it?" she throws back at me, as if my assessment has personally offended her.
"I-I'm not really a fan of the cinema. You know this," I backpedal.
She muffles her giggle at my use of the word "cinema" and shakes her head, tugging on my arm a little harder until we both stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The flow of people parts and they all move around us like water travelling downstream, impervious to the minor inconvenience that we pose.
"Yeah, but Star Wars is, like… classic," she tries to argue. "I can't believe you've never seen it. You're old enough to remember when it actually came out in theatres. "
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
"I am," I agree. "I also remember when bloodletting was practiced as a form of medicine, and when men burned women for being suspected witches."
I've lived through many great and terrible and wonderful and ridiculous phenomena— though it doesn't mean I actively participated in every single one of them, as I try to point out to my young lover.
"And were they?"
"Hm?"
"Witches?" she clarifies. "Were the women they burned actually witches? Were there even any witches at all?"
I laugh, tugging her gently so the two of us can start moving again.
"Of course not. That's ridiculous," I answer.
"Oh, because being a centuries-old creature of the night who feeds on human blood isn't?" she counters.
I laugh again.
"Yes, but my kind doesn't utilize magic. There's a scientific explanation as to how we exist— same with lycanthropes," I explain. "The idea of a human or any creature using magic to do their bidding is absurd."
She comes to a full-stop once more, pulling me back towards her like an anchor when I try to cross the intersection before the green light fades.
"Wait a second— lycanthropes? Like werewolves?"
I shrug.
"What the fuck, Delphine? Are there werewolves, too?"
I laugh, gesturing for her to continue walking with me. We cross to the other side of the street and reach the entryway of a large park I've ventured through many times before. I figure a brief walk through the woods or gardens while we're illuminated by park lamps will be a perfect way to draw our date to it's conclusion.
"Relax," I tell her, leading her through the gate. "Their numbers are so few at this point that they're hardly an issue."
She grumbles beneath her breath, both surprised and slightly irritated by my revelation. I find it impossible to suppress my amusement, especially with the way her lips pout and brow scrunches. I use my superior speed to grab hold of her quickly, twirling her in my arms until my hands settle upon her hips. It takes her a moment to adjust but once she does, she offers me a large smile.
"Besides," I speak lowly, my fingers tracing patterns along her hipbone as I lean in closer. "I'd never let one bite you."
She cocks her head.
"Guess you already planted your flag in that soil, huh?" she teases, kissing me slowly.
Her kiss is just a whisper, meant to tease me before she's retreating again and journeying down a dirt path into a more isolated area of the park where the taller trees and other flora will grant us greater privacy from any potential onlookers.
"You know, you really gotta watch the entire trilogy together," she says, hand in mine as we tread deeper into the park. "A New Hope is good, but it doesn't hold a candle to Empire."
"I'll take your word for it."
"You don't have to," she retorts, grinning up at me. "Empire's screening next Saturday and you're coming with me."
She wriggles her eyebrows, attempting to persuade me though the gesture is hardly necessary. When have I ever been able to turn her down? If she asked for the sun, body be damned, I'd find a way to pluck it from the sky and hand it to her with charred hands, collapsing into a pile of ash only after I'm certain she's satisfied.
"Well, if you demand it…"
"I do," she winks, slinking away from me again.
Her hips sway from side-to-side and my eyes follow her the entire way down the path, through the increasingly thick patch of trees. When she stops again and turns around to face me, extending a hand in my direction, I realize that she expects me to follow her, not to stand and leer like a fool.
"Come here."
I'm in her face quicker than she can blink and her smile only grows is both size and mass. She wraps her arms around my neck, drawing herself in even closer and pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek.
"You gonna take me home?"
I detect a hint of playful seduction in her voice and I caress her chin, tilting her head to the side very gently.
"Would you like that?" I ask her.
"Maybe," she shrugs.
My eyes fall upon her neck, upon the two, tiny scars that've taken up permanent residence upon her flesh. From the moment I first tasted her, I knew I'd never drink from another again. Even still, I've had to be careful with her these past few months, careful not to take too much and to give her ample time to recover lest I drain her completely. That first time I had taken a bit too much and the blood loss mixed with the sensory overload had caused her to lose consciousness very briefly. It had left her weak and exhausted for nearly a week, but it had sated me long enough that I could afford to wait until she was ready to take me again; her youth, general good health and diet mean that she's able to easily and efficiently produce new blood cells so the wait is never too excruciating, but feeding from her is something that I still regard as a luxury and never a right— a delicacy to be enjoyed only on certain occasions.
I hum, my fingers lightly tracing the incisions. I learn forward and bring my lips to the scars, kissing her softly.
"Maybe I'll even let you…"
She doesn't bother finishing her train of thought because we both know exactly what she's implying. It's been twenty-three days since I've fed from her and the very thought of her blood against my tongue has me salivating, has my eyes growing darker and fangs growing pointed. She giggles at my anticipation, the vibrations racing through her throat and tickling my lips. All I can think of is getting her back to my apartment and beneath me as quickly as possible.
That is, until another scent suspicious appears out of nowhere.
My body freezes and I pull away from her neck, my head whipping around like a dog who's caught scent of a morsel.
"What?" she asks me.
I ignore her, taking a few steps away from her. My eyes scan the surrounding area, taking in the tall trees we're completely surrounded by. I frown and focus my eyes, scanning the tops of the trees, searching the branches.
"What is it?" she asks again.
"Quiet," I hush her.
I take another deep whiff and I know I'm not mistaken. I know that scent. They're in here somewhere, watching us from the shadows just as I've stalked many others before. Cosima remains as silent as a corpse, her face a contortion of fear and concern as I remain diligent, hyperaware of our surroundings.
"Okay. Seriously. You're freaking me—"
I whip around, catching the flash of movement as it hurls from the trees towards Cosima. Instinct takes over, my fangs unsheathe themselves and I let out a loud, menacing growl as I move even faster, heading it off before it can reach her. I lash out, striking it hard and sending it flying into the trunk of a large tree with a loud crack.
"Jesus!" she shouts, her hands over her ears. "What the fuck is that?"
It doesn't take our assailant long to recover and he's on his feet again, his own fangs unsheathed as he hisses and growls, squaring off with me. I make sure to keep myself between him and Cosima, the look of murder in his eyes reflected right back at him in my own.
This one dies.
He lashes out towards me but again, I'm much faster and I side-step his blow. I deliver another crushing shot to his head and he's sent reeling right back, slamming into the tree once more and splitting it partially. Before he has time to find his feet again, I'm on him with a hand around his throat, lifting him in the air and snarling like a vicious lioness.
"B-Bitch!" he spits through gritted teeth, completely immobilized by my hold.
Not wasting another minute, I thrust my balled fist into his abdomen with all of my strength, easily punching through him. I feel the wet slosh and squish of blood and innards and grab hold of a handful and pull, ripping his bowels from his body with a satisfied hiss. He screams out and thrashes in pain, the wound severe though not enough to kill one of us. They continue to spill out of him and throw him to the ground like a rag doll, grabbing one of his arms at the wrist and tearing it clean off of him in another bout of fury. In the background, Cosima screams in horror, though it doesn't register until I have both of the cretin's arms in my hands.
"Delphine! Delphine, please! Please stop!"
The once quiet, serene patch of woods is now filled with the sounds of pain and terror, two voices screaming out in the dark and splitting my attention. I tilt my head to the side so that I can spy a glimpse of Cosima behind me and I notice that she's trembling in place, tears streaming from her wide and vulnerable eyes. I realize now that I've become so consumed in my pure and utter contempt for this creature who threatened her that I forgot she was even present, watching every ounce of horror and pain I inflict upon him.
He tries to squirm away, head to the ground as he slowly crawls towards the bushes but I stop him with a foot to his back, forcing him back down on the ground. He groans in agony once again, but I end his suffering rather quickly by bringing my foot down upon his skull and crushing it in one, swift movement. The second he leaves this realm, what's left of his body is reduced to ashes and I stare down at the pile, my fangs still bared and my eyes still darker than the depths of hell from whence I came.
"You're safe now," I say, kicking away at the pile of ashes until it becomes mixed in with the dirt. "He can't hurt you."
I take a moment to catch myself, to allow the bloodlust to settle before I approach her again. Once I'm certain that I have myself under control, I walk back towards her with my human face, all signs of my previous ferocity completely gone.
"Y-You… you just… ripped him apart," she stammers, clearly traumatized by my viciousness.
"Don't shed any tears for him, mon amour," I say softly, offering her a smile. "He isn't worth them."
I step even closer, reaching out for her. She recoils as if burned, as if she's found herself face-to-face with something deep and terrifying and I suppose, in a way, she has; she may have seen me feed from blood bags before, she may have even offered her own neck to me, but she's never seen the true nature of the beast— the beast in motion, switched into kill mode and thriving, wallowing in the bloodlust.
"You… you're covered in…"
I look down at myself and realize that I am, in fact, covered in that cretin's blood; it drips in deep bursts of crimson from the hand I used to disembowel him, it mars the front of my blouse like a Pollock painting.
"We should get inside," I tell her.
Even though there aren't any others around at the moment, we're far too exposed for my liking. Someone could come wandering into the small patch of woods at any moment and stumble across my blood-soaked self, and even though I may have voided one threat, there's no way to tell if the recently-deceased is part of a hunting pack that may be lingering nearby.
I can't risk Cosima's life like that.
I manage to coerce her back to my apartment which is the closer of the two, though she moves as if she's walking in a haze, as if her eyes cut backwards through time and replay the entire scene in her mind. Once we're indoors, I quickly check her over to make sure she isn't hurt— I was quick to jump to her defence, but I can't be sure if she sustained any minor injuries in all of the chaos. I'm satisfied to learn that she remains unharmed and after changing her clothes and tucking her securely in my bed, I duck away into the shower to wash the filth from me.
I emerge again from the steam-filled bathroom nearly an hour later and I expect her to be sleeping. I'm surprised to find her sitting up in my bed, eyes still as distant as before. I towel my hair dry, watching her closely before asking her if she's okay once more.
"Why did he attack me?"
Her question comes as a surprise to me.
"Well, we're very territorial creatures," I try to explain. "I thought I'd been careful in coming here, but it appears there are others after all. Now that you've been marked, they probably smelled me on you and assumed that another was encroaching."
It was the only explanation that seemed to make sense. You see, humans who've been marked by us give off a very distinct smell. It makes them easy to pick out in a crowd. The one who attacked us must have crossed paths with us at random, the scent catching his attention. He probably thought that butchering the both of us would send a message to any others potentially inhabiting the area and eliminate the competition. He certainly didn't plan on encountering another who was far older and stronger than him.
"How many others are there?" she asks next.
"I'm not sure," I shrug. "One less now."
Aside from our recently-deceased assailant, I've yet to detect another of my kind in the many months since I've settled here. It's possible that he may have just relocated, that he was acting alone, though my gut tells me that I must take to the streets and flush out any other possible enemies.
"I'll figure everything out," I promise her, tossing my towel into the laundry basket. "But until I do, I suggest not wandering alone after dark. You should stay here with me just to be safe."
She hums, though I'm unsure whether or not to accept it as an agreement. Our assailant had been quite weak by our standards, which meant that he was fairly young. Fledglings have a tendency to live in covenants, which is why I know I must be diligent in uprooting this great, poisonous tree before its branches grow too high and vast and cast a large, looming shadow on the life I've created here with Cosima.
"So you were the only one where you lived before?"
Her question is random and I furrow my brow, toying with the tie of my bathrobe.
"Yes. It was a small place. Not a large enough for peaceful cohabitation— not a large enough hunting ground for more than one to hunt comfortably."
She finally finds her smile again, though it's weak in comparison to the radiance I know she's capable of.
"Yeah. I get the feeling," she nods. "I'm from a small city, too. I don't even think there were any… well… I never saw any… you know— any of your friends."
"Not my friends," I correct her.
I take a moment to recall my former home— Cosima's former home, as well. I missed Paris the first time I left and strangely enough, a part of me even missed Frankfurt when I'd made my great break. I'd sought refuge in our quiet town for many years until I met Cosima, though nothing of the place has truly resonated with me.
"Where did you live, before you came here?" Cosima asks. "I just realized that I never asked. You've never told me before, either."
I'm silent for a moment, considering.
"Nowhere special," I tell her, my eyes falling.
"Yeah, but where?" she presses. "Somewhere close by? Somewhere warm or cold? You were still in the country, right? Was it somewhere—"
She comes to a complete halt and when I look up from my feet, realization flashes across her face.
"What is it?" I ask.
She seems rattled again and I can hear her heart rate increase from where I'm standing.
"Where did you come from?"
Her voice is low and quiet and I can tell by the look in her eyes, by the lump in her throat that she knows. Somehow, she just knows. Perhaps she can smell it on me like I can smell fear or anger or desire on her.
"Cosima…"
She kicks off the bedsheets, rolling out of the bed in an instant.
"Oh, God. I'm right, aren't I?" she asks, hand over her mouth.
My knees buckle, I step closer to her but she uses the bed to keep us separate, seeking shelter from me on the other side.
"I-It's not like that," I stutter.
"Did you follow me here?"
Her rage simmers beneath the surface, her gaze dangerous and penetrating as she glares at me from across the bedroom. I know that lying will do no good in this situation, that the best thing I can do now is own up to my behaviour and explain it to her in a way so she can understand it.
"Yes."
She expels a loud, incredulous laugh while shaking her head.
"And how long had you been… watching me?" she spits.
"Cosima, please—"
"How. Long?"
I sigh, running a hand through my damp hair.
"Months," I confess. "A few… or more. Almost a year."
"You were stalking me for almost a year before I met you?" she shouts.
"It wasn't like that!" I shout back at her with pleading eyes. "I just liked to watch you, that's all! It made me feel… happy."
"Jesus Christ."
She loops around the side of the bed towards me and I reach for her, only to have her side-step my grasp. My eyes follow her as she gathers her clothing from across the room and my body grows heavy.
"So much is starting to make sense now," she mutters beneath her breath. "That night— when the tree in my backyard came down and smashed the patio… that was you, wasn't it?"
She stops, looking up from what she's doing and waiting for my answer.
"I… I was upset."
Another roaring, incredulous laugh rips through her chest.
"You saw me with Emi. You were watching us— in my bedroom!"
"I didn't mean to see it. I just liked to watch you work, or listen to your music—"
"Or sleep?"
"Sometimes," I shrug, the word leaving my mouth before I have time to register that perhaps it isn't the greatest choice of a word.
"Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ," she mutters. "You really don't see what's wrong with this at all, do you?"
Once again, my brow furrows in confusion. I understand that Cosima is a fiercely independent person, though I'm unable to grasp the sense of betrayal she clearly feels at the moment. My watchful eye has never harmed her, has never caused her any misfortune and before she knew of it, had never tainted or affected our relationship at all. Wherever we currently are in our relationship is somewhere far beyond that point where we started and so I wonder what good dwelling on the past can really do?
"At the mixer, where we first met," she begins, shedding the sleeping clothes I had given to her earlier. "You were there for me. You staged that, didn't you?"
"I… not exactly," I admit.
I watch her as she tosses my clothes aside and begins to redress in her own.
"I never actually planned on ever speaking to you. I didn't think anything could come of it," I say. "I was content to spend my nights just watching and living vicariously through you, but after we met… it didn't feel like enough. I wanted more."
My words don't reach her in quite the way I had intended. In fact, as she finishes pulling her shirt down over her head, she looks at me as though I'm some sort of stranger, someone she can no longer trust. That look shakes me and I feel myself begin to panic.
"I have to go."
She turns away from me and I bolt.
"Cosima, please!" I cry, placing myself in her way. "Don't be upset!"
""Don't be upset?" You just told me that you've been stalking me this entire time! That all of this was orchestrated by you!" she yells, that delicious vein in her neck rising. "God, Delphine! Do you have any idea how fucked up that is? How psychotic you've been acting?"
"No! You're wrong!" I argue, a growl escaping me. "I never hurt you, Cosima! I never would!"
The very thought that she could regard me— regard our relationship so lowly— has sparked my own anger. After everything we've meant to each other, everything I've done for her— after she offered herself to me— how could she scoff in the face of that? How could she dismiss it as "fucked up," as anything less than beautiful, and simply walk away?
"I… I need to not be here," she stammers, pushing her way by me. "I need you to not be around me."
"But—"
I reach for her one last time but she yanks her arm away from me defiantly.
"Honestly, just thinking about all of this is making me sick," she tells me, her voice thick and eyes brimming with tears. "Everything you ever told me was a lie. From the very beginning, this was just some sort of fucked up game."
"No! It never was!" I insist, grabbing at her again.
She struggles against my grip and while I know I should probably release her, I'm much too afraid to simply let her go, to let her walk out that door and watch her disappear. She thrashes in my arms, trying to tear herself from me and I despair, I hold her even tighter until she's crying and whimpering like a struck dog.
"I love you! I always have!" I say desperately, hand cupping the side of her face and shaking her. "That's what I'm trying to tell you!"
"Oh, God."
She clamps her eyes shut tightly and I smile, I try to convince her to open them again, to look me in the eyes and see the sincerity for herself. If she could only see it, there's no way she'll leave. I coo and hush her, try to soothe her unsteady heart.
When she opens her eyes again, I don't see the understanding I'd been hoping for. Instead, I see what I can only describe as terror, as if I'm still covered in our assailant's blood just seconds after dismantling him.
"Just let me go. Please," she begs, her voice breaking. "I can't even look at you right now."
I feel myself become light-headed and I know this is foolish, that the biology aspect doesn't make any sense. Light-headedness suggests a lack of blood flow to the brain, which would suggest a blood flow, which would suggest a beating heart— something I simply no longer possess. I wonder if it's possible to die a second death, for an already-still heart to become somehow more static.
"I-I love you," I try again.
Perhaps she's right.
Perhaps I truly am mad for expecting a different response this time.
"How can you say that to me? Right now? How can you— you know what? Nevermind."
My grip on her weakens and she quickly seizes the opportunity, slipping out of my grasp. I nearly topple over without her body there to support me, but I somehow manage to find my feet after stumbling and just barely keep myself standing.
She sniffles, wiping away her tears.
"I know you do," she says quietly, reaching behind her and blindly searching for the handle of the door. "But that's not it."