I hope you like this chapter! Happy reading!
*-* Erik & Christine XIII - The Vampire Talk
She was silent. Worse than his face? Of course it was possible. He could be a serial killer, a rapist or a pedophile. But was it conceivable? To be so loving and tender with her, and be a monster too?
"Tell me."
He nodded, and brought her back to the living room. There, the book Dracula was still on the small table where he'd left it after she'd gone.
He sat her down on the sofa, and settled next to her.
"Please, don't be frightened. I am just as I've always been with you, and intend you no harm. No matter what you think, know that I speak the truth, and I will never hurt you."
Now he was frightening her. What could he ever have to tell her to warrant such warnings?
"I did not chose this book randomly", he began, seizing Dracula in his hand. "I am not a human. Or rather, I haven't been human in many years. In the mid-1800s, I was changed into a vampire."
He let his thirst and her sweet perfume overwhelm him, letting his fang show.
"This is who I am, now. I do not kill humans to feed, and I only drink a little. They feel no pain, and do not remember me."
She was silent still. He could still hear her heart beating, but she showed no reaction. Her eyes were unmoving, and her scent didn't change. As if she felt nothing at all. What was that?
A vampire.
He was a vampire.
In his mouth, they really looked like fangs, pointy teeth to rip and shred and drink blood.
How could she believe that?
And yet, why wouldn't she?
After all he'd done with her, helped her, and everything, why would he show himself if that was not true? Why would he plan such an elaborate trick, now that he had her trust? What would be the goal?
The only answer remaining was that he spoke the truth.
And deep down, inside, she could put all the clues together. How he never ate or drank. How she had only seen him at night around her house. How he was so fascinating, so wonderful at everything he did. Of course, with nearly a hundred and fifty years to practice, he could master anything and everything his heart desired.
And it also explained part of her connection to him. Why she felt so attracted to him.
Vampire were universally symbols of passion and mystery, sensual relationships.
Dracula, indeed.
Her very own Vampire lover.
Mmm.
She did like the sound of that, for such a story lover, this felt like a dream come true, in a way.
And he'd said he didn't kill, or harm anyone. That mattered too.
What else could he do?
Did he want to drink from her?
She shivered. Out of all the things she could have thought about, that possibility thrilled her, excited her, and made her just a little bit afraid.
And one question remained, too. He needed to speak the truth, even though in her core, she knew it already.
"Did you use your powers on me? What exactly can you do? Am I here on my own free will?"
"Now that I've told you, if I had indeed bewitched you, you would no longer suffer from it. But no, I swear to you, my dearest Christine, I could never put a spell on you, not willingly at the very least. Rather, you cast yours over me. For here I am, speaking of something I have never told anyone."
And he spoke the truth. When he'd been lost and aching, up in Paris still, the seer had found him, knowing what he was, and hid him down in Provence.
Until today, he hadn't needed to tell anyone.
She kept watching him. He had told her everything, now. One more thing remained, but he would wait another day, to drop that latest bomb over her.
If she still wanted him around after today.
He was a vampire.
He really was. And he had never used his powers over her.
"Were you changed because you wanted it?"
"Yes. I wanted knowledge, and time. It proved a curse and a blessing. I have more abilities than any other human could have, but I have spent more years than I care to count wishing I was dead. Or that I could die."
It felt right, to tell her, to lay himself bare to her gaze, in a wholly different way. She had seen beyond the mask, now she could see into his very soul, and the torments that brewed inside.
She'd known from the very first night she met him he was different from anyone else she'd ever met. Knew he'd always felt apart, and better than the rest of humanity. Now she knew exactly why. And in some ways, she understood.
"Will you tell me your story?"
"Not today. Some parts are too frightening for now. But I swear if you still want to know me better, tomorrow, I will tell you everything."
"Including about the woman you loved?"
The woman he loved. How plainly she put it, to speak of his greatest joy and hope and sorrow, in so few words.
"Yes. I shall tell you about her."
She looked at him, fully in the eyes, her emotions at war within herself, for a brief second.
Who was she kidding? Who would believe her if she said she'd even hesitated?
She understood so much more about him, now. So many pieces put together, to create this tapestry, beautiful threads entwining. And the picture she wove, with all of these, it was beautiful.
"Have you ever wanted to drink my blood?"
"Yes. But I will not. I swear, my dear, you have nothing to fear from me, or these teeth."
She didn't speak, not dared to voice her feelings on the matter. But inside, her scent was as plain as if she'd spoken them.
I wouldn't object. If you asked.
Oh, why should she tempt him so?
"What do real vampires do? Fear the sun? Turn to mist or bats?"
She had taken his hands in his. Caressed them.
How had she never noticed how cold his skin had always been? Why had she dismissed this, and the always too warm temperature of the air of his house?
"I cannot shape-shift. I am stronger and faster than humans. I can sleep if I want, but do not need to. I burn in the sun, but if I am well-covered I can still go outside."
She tried to imagine a life like that. Alone, gifted, but having to feed on the humans he hated so much.
"I do not cry. Do not need to breathe. And my heart doesn't beat either."
What? That surprised her. He…?
"But… I was sure…"
"You believed you heard me, surely, but no."
She closed the gap between them, sitting so close, and put her ear next to his chest, feeling the soft silk material of his suit.
No noise. No breath. Only her own, so loud next his silent heart.
"I can't believe all of this is real, and yet it does make sense," she murmured, reaching around to hug him, keeping her head next to his chest.
It felt still good, despite no heartbeat. He smelled nice. And his arms were not as cold as she thought they'd been a second before, warmed up by her own embrace and the warm air, as they settled around her.
This was nice.
He couldn't believe it. He would never cease to be amazed at her behavior. Or should he be frightened, at how well she took everything? Were they so well-matched, in all matters, that this was no stranger for her than his mask?
Slowly, he reached down to kiss her forehead, his dead heart desperately wishing to flutter from how in love he was becoming.
Her gentle acceptance, her questions about his condition, all so genuine and nice, she unmade his world to become the one and only star in it.
He had never needed the sun, and now she would even replace the moon and the whole of the other stars. She would be the only star in his galaxy, a flame to burn all others.
Four kisses, and counting.
The day he stopped counting, would be the day she died.
He pushed these thoughts away, just to savor what had happened so far. They had sung, he had shared his beautiful theatre with her and vanquished some of her fears of the stage, and then told her of his condition.
Tomorrow, the last burning subject would be unveiled, and all the cards would be hers to deal with as she wished.
As long as she wanted him around, he would be there. Until her dying day.
He made her another meal, after all their emotions, to refill her energy, and then spent the rest of the afternoon playfully talking about his books some more. He also played for her, delighting her with his mastery of the harp, once again.
How strange, to see such a tall and elegant man tugging at the strings, the most beautiful lullaby gauged from each stroke. If she were a painter, or a photograph, she would never stop trying to fix him onto paper, letting his beauty show for everyone to see. He was so attractive, over there. The electricity around them had rekindled once again, tension climbing, despite his gentle music.
Her mind wandered to a hundred different subjects, most of them related to him, and how much she cared for him.
A vampire. He was a vampire. And she didn't care in the slightest. Of course, it felt to her. A treat, for such a lover of stories and myths. It fitted her perfectly.
And in her deepest core, there was the concept of immortality she'd always been attracted to, if only because she'd lost so much, to make sure she would never lose anyone again. It was in her grasp, as impossible as it'd always felt.
If he was a vampire, she could never lose him.
After their afternoon together, she returned home again, leaving her new enchanted kingdom, to go back to her reality.
But she'd promised she'd be back for more practice in their new theatre.
And the final piece of the puzzle of him.
She had taken it so well, he was still awestruck when she left in the early evening, the sun shining down on her form as he'd suited up in a hood and cloak to protect himself from the deadly sun.
Her curls were golden in the setting light. And her smile just as bright.
He needed to feed, desperately, now. Until he could safely venture outdoor, he paced his room, feeling her presence lingering, the ghost of her smile, of her fingers on his books, of her song in his ears. He could still smell her too, enticing his blood, letting his fangs try to rip at everything in their reach.
There.
No more sun.
He ran outside, and found the first man he found hiking in the forest, and drove his teeth in his neck, drinking slowly from the rich blood.
He could think again. After he'd cleaned him up a little, from how overeager he'd been, he let the man go on his way, and returned to his house.
He was still amazed. Two things he'd wanted to tell her, and two things she had accepted without so much as a blink.
And they had progressed so much, together, as singers. Her voice delighted him more at every hurdle he threw at her.
And it was amazing.
He ran to his secret room, sealed away after one frenzied hopeless night, where his old organ awaited. He'd built it back, in his more desperate moments. And now, he was happy he'd done that.
The music was back, into his ears, into his mind, guiding his fingers as he drove his fingers back onto his organ, lovingly, excitedly tapping at the keys.
The glorious sound was deep and powerful, one he hadn't heard in a long while. Even when she'd first ignited his Music again, he hadn't dared touch this most favorite of instruments.
But now…
Now that he'd told her nearly everything, only the littlest thing remained.
He would compose a new opera for her, and launched himself into the overture. A grand and sad opening, the mirror of how he'd been before her, before she'd stepped into his life, shaking everything.
Music larger than life, but grief-stricken.
Unending night, cold and full of despair.
And then, there would be a little melody, rising, ever so softly, from the gentlest wind instrument. Just a hint of warmth and hope. Her theme. Slow and gentle, full of her own loss and despair, but brighter. She had never given up.
His soul was alight with the possibilities and the myriad of ideas, a whirlwind of them in his brain, and his fingers could hardly write fast enough to keep up with them.
He barely noticed morning had come, when he heard her car slowly climb up the driveway, and her scent reach his nose.
She was excited and ready for a new day with him. And so was he.
He strode to the door, to open it to her. Would she greet him with a kiss?
Her eyes were sparkling bright as she made her way to him, and he closed the door behind her. Alone again, the sunrays unable to reach him. She reached out to caress his cheek, lovingly tracing the corner of his jaw, settling over his lips.
"Good morning, my dearest," he whispered against her fingers, not daring to kiss the loving limbs.
She smiled, barely hiding her shiver at his rich and sensual voice.
"Good morning, Erik."
And she pulled him to her, in a warm, gentle kiss. There was no need for more.