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Find the Word & Seven Sentence Sunday!
i'm giving y'all a two-for-one since I missed wip wednesday last week and I'm trying to alternate between chapter release weeks and wip update weeks... but for good reason! I've had a few interviews so hopefully I'll have some good news about a full-time job soon :]
anyways, first up is Find the Word, and I was tagged by @bringbackmaes14! My words are breath, moment, desperate, and dark! Current WIP is IWTV Chapter 14, and it's sitting over 21k so I think I'll be able to find them in there :)
cut for spoilers and cws (implied murder, vampires, fem! self-insert is referred to as Canary for lore reasons from chap. 1, unreliable narrators with even more unreliable flashbacks that are presented in italics, volt bashing but I swear to GOD it makes sense in this universe walk with me, unedited kat writing so please be kind with my weird grammar and repetitiveness w/ word choices bc it will be fixed in editing!)
Breath
“I’m sorry,” Dolly blinks, a little flabbergasted, “What was that?” “Amir rarely eats.” Eddie calmly responds, like this shit is normal. “So, when he does eat, he prefers to hunt for it.” “And in large quantities.” Dolly mutters under her breath before she raises the volume of her voice. “Do those gentlemen know they’re lunch?” “Are you recording?” Eddie shoots back before Dolly shakes her head. “No.” “The Hanks know that if they make it, on foot, to the Brandenburg Gate before dawn, they’ll be paid enough money to do…” Eddie trails off for a moment. “Well, most anything they want.” That, of course, naturally leads Dolly to another question. “Has anyone ever cashed in?”
Moment
“What do you remember about Canary?” “Me?” Dolly’s perplexed by Eddie’s question. “Why?” “Last night, Amir said…” Eddie shakes his head in subtle frustration. “He remembers her worst actions, and he thinks that’s who she is, but I don’t… I can’t… Canary wasn’t mean or vengeful or spiteful. She was hurt.” He pauses for a moment. “Volt, Harper, and I would lash out when we were hurt, and it wouldn’t mean anything, but when she does it… she’s a monster.” Eddie’s eyes shine with tears as he makes eye contact with Dolly. “Canary’s not a monster. She’s kind, smart, beautiful, and the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She gave hope, happiness, daughters…” Eddie bitterly chuckles before he places the hotel key card in-between two of his fingers, presenting it to Dolly so she can hold onto it. “I just want to know that someone else thinks the world of her, since Harper isn’t here anymore. That someone else cares for her well-being, and thinks she deserves nothing but the best from the world."
Desperate
“Get to the point, River. We don’t have all night.” “I was desperate to find Canary, and even more desperate for my organization to not find out about her disappearance... but they did, and they even offered me assistance in finding her,” River returns to her original point with ease, “With their help, I was able to locate her with ease.” “And then happily ever after?” “Not quite, Dolly,” River wistfully says, “She wasn’t as happy to see me as I was to see her.”
Dark
“Right,” Dolly feels bad for interrupting, but she kinda wants to get things back on track, “that’s good and all, but–” “–what’s the next thing you remember, honey?” River quickly asks her. “A lot of talking,” Dolly clicks her tongue, “but most of what I remember is Canary shit-talkin’ Volt.” “He had a dark pull, a numbing effect on the senses,” You pointed at Dolly, now pacing the room as you spoke to the reporter, “He was a handsome Satan.” “Yeah, yeah,” Dolly nodded in agreement, “I know the type.” River was mostly silent through the exchange, simply watching the three of you interact for… kicks? For laughs? Dolly had a really hard time getting a read on this woman. “When you stripped away his superficial charms,” You spoke animatedly, using your hands to gesture wildly around you, “beneath his flimsy gentleman’s veneer… Volt was trivial, vapid, vulgar, maniacal, blind, and sterile and contemptible!”
and now, we have a seven-ish sentence sunday, where I was tagged by dot again and @blackbirdofasgard <3
“See? You were nimble-minded, even back then.” River points out. “I was a moron.” Dolly bemoans before Eddie shakes his head, a faint smile on his face. “Not to Canary. She thought you were brilliant.” “Will you, uh…” Dolly shyly looked away from you. “Do the fang thing again?” A smile forced its way onto your lips before you obliged her requests, happily displaying your fangs for an audience of one who grinned like the sight of your sharpened pearly whites was the best thing in the world. Dolly laughed merrily, as did you. “I love that!” She then turned to the tape recorder. “Just for reference, that was Canary Watts just now, makin’ her fangs… come out.”
MY SHAYLASSSSS dolly & canary you deserved more time together 🥹 and thank you for the tags my friends! ugh I can't believe I'm five chapters away from being done with iwtv I HAVE SO MANY MIXED EMOTIONS ABOUT THAT :///
An Interview with the Vampire — Chapter/Episode Thirteen: innocence died screaming (honey, ask me, I would know)
a/n: the new trailers for the vampire lestat have me STOKED so I was feeling especially inspired and I sat down and wrote another chapter in, like, a week LOL. also this is the beginning of the a streak of chapters that are best described as mostly angst and misery. consider yourself warned.
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; vampire! amir x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! river x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! harper x mortal! lucinda lavish
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
cws: brothels, prostitution, smoking/cigarettes, crude/sexual humor, murder, gore, violence, periods, blood, religious themes, age gap relationship, toxic/unhealthy relationship, unreliable narrators, mentions of rape and sexual assault, domestic violence, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, fasting/starvation, slut-shaming, assumed main character death, hallucinations, generalized descriptions of the horrors of war, implied sexual situations but there’s no actual smut, spoilers for s2ep4 of amc’s iwtv!
summary: Falling in love is easier said than done. You, Eddie, and Harper walk different paths on that topic, but you always end up coming to the same destination together, as a family. A fractured family, but a family nonetheless… until Amir reveals something to Harper, in a heated moment, that causes her to finally pull the blindfold from your eyes and tell you what’s really been going on with Eddie… and some of the things he’s been hiding from you. Eddie and Dolly don’t really agree on much in the present day, but they both seem to be haunted by their memories. Eddie, in Dolly’s point of view, is on the figurative end, while Dolly’s –“Don’t be afraid. Just start the tape.” – experiencing more literal fragmentations of her 1975 interview with the vampires Canary and Eddie Watts. She grows tired of her broken memories, so she hunts for a solution to her predicament within her computer files. — 24.7k words! [read on ao3!]
“So,” Dolly grabs the script that contains the full play that Harper performed, night after night, for over a year, “how did Harper like being infantilized in your plays?”
“Coven life requires a… letting go of the self.” Like usual, Amir gives some weird answer that makes him look like a saint while Eddie’s half-hearted response would meander around the truth. Man, these fucking vampires are getting predictable. “She carried her water uphill like a seasoned player–”
“–she had her… issues with it.” And there’s the more balanced, truthful response from Eddie as he stands in the middle of the living room, admiring the playbill for the performance while Dolly continues to read from the script.
“Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!” Harper waves her arms around like a madwoman as she pretends to fly about the stage, perfectly displaying the mannerism of a bird in her gaudy, frilly, baby-blue dress.
Suddenly, she stops when Connie, dressed as a maid, walks into the room. There’s a small chase sequence that earns a few laughs from the audience before a high-strung Lady Memoria, who pretends to smoke a cigarette, makes her entrance from stage right.
“Hello, Baby Lu.” Memoria speaks with a certain amount of disdain for the child in question before she flicks her hand in Connie’s direction. “We’ve come to steal your nounou away downstairs to stir our cocktails and serve our canapés, and keep your daddy’s disgusting hands off your dear mama!”
Once she takes a seat on a well-placed chair, Connie rushes up to her before Harper begins to spin in circles with her arms extended once more.
“I’m a birdie! Cheep! Cheep!”
“Madame, your daughter is bewitched by the window,” Connie pretends to speak in a low tone, as if the frantic girl behind her can’t hear what she’s saying, “She thinks she is a real bird.”
“Nounou, I need two mint juleps and four bahinis.” Memoria brushes her off before she closes a pretend door behind her, hiding herself from the crowd before Connie has a chance to respond.
“Yes, Madame,” Connie’s head then snaps towards the window on stage left that Harper pretends to nearly fall out of, “Lulu! Get away from there!”
“I’m a birdie!” Harper hops down before the chase between the pair ensues once more. “Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!”
“Don’t make me use this!” Connie warns as she grabs a hammer and a nail from behind the chair.
“Gonna flap-flap my wings and fly far, far away!” Harper is insistently disobedient as Connie issues one last warning.
“You know I will!”
“Gonna fly far away!” Harper says before she screams in pain when Connie mimics slamming a nail into her foot with the hammer, and the projector shows blood stains flying across the stage as Chairemi steps out and sprays the front row of the audience with fake blood. “Ah! My claw!”
“This is not a claw!” Connie brings the hammer down once more. “It is a foot!”
Harper pretends to sob in her hands before Memoria calls out to Connie once more.
“Nounou! Where are my canapés?”
“Yes, Madame!” Connie hurries off-stage as Harper dramatically peels her hands off of her face, earning a few laughs from the crowd.
“Little birdie Lu’s caught in a trap,” She laments to the crowd, “But she’s flapping her wings, and getting free!”
She waves her arms wildly in the air before she frees her foot from its pretend prison, and the room goes wild when Harper has her gaze set on the window before she dives out of it.
“Birdie loves the breeze!” She screams as the projector shows her falling, falling, falling before she ‘hits’ the ground with a hard thud, produced by one of the drummers in the orchestral pit.
“Lulu?” Connie peaks into the room before a horrified expression appears on her face. It doesn’t last for long, as Memoria comes through the door with a comically large martini glass in her hand.
“Where are the canapés?”
The crowd applauds, whistles, and hoots as Harper falls to the ground, playing dead with extraordinary ability.
“The play was a hit.” Dolly remarks in surprise.
“An unmitigated hit.” Amir corrects.
“They added shows, added seats, sold souvenirs.” Eddie tosses the playbill onto the table, right in front of Dolly before he walks behind Amir’s seat and squeezes his shoulder in support.
“Parisians, who’d long disdained us, started drifting back in again,” Amir looks up to the ceiling, caught up in his own reminiscing, “We even added back a Wednesday French performance.”
“Hmm,” Dolly then looks at the playbill in front of her, “how did the coven take it?”
“Mostly with good grace–”
“–they were bitter.” Eddie interrupts, causing Dolly to lightly snort.
“I hate this song like I hate my mortal father.” Drysdale rolls his eyes, stretching his extended legs ever-so-slightly forward as he listens to Harper sing the beloved tune attached to her play.
“I don’t like windows when they’re closed~”
“I dream that my mortal mother sings it,” Artt fixes up a small prop in front of him, ignoring the way someone’s head bobs up and down underneath Drysdale’s outfit, “while she beats me with a crucifix.”
“Blood Sabbath,” Chairemi calls out, loudly clapping her hands together, “three minutes!”
“Fuck off, three minutes!” Drysdale storms off, leaving Bathsheba to shakily rise from her knees before she carefully wipes something white off from her lips.
“It says here, in the margins, ‘Find Baby Lulu’s inner childlike wonder again,’” Dolly notes as she reads Amir’s handwriting from the script, “And, ‘Harper, if you do absolutely nothing else, at least enunciate.’”
“Those are my notes, but…” Amir trails off. “By the five-hundredth performance, Harper had grown bored with her role. …At least, that’s what Eddie would call it.”
“What would you call it, then?” Dolly dares to ask.
“It wasn’t ennui. It was sabotage.”
~
I hate this fuckin’ stage. I hate this fuckin’ dress. I hate the way my hair is braided straight down the middle, into two equal braids that make me look ten. This is a goddamn humiliation ritual.
Yet, every night, here I am, performin’ the same script.
“I’m going to flap-flap my wings,” I spoke in plain English, the way Amir liked it since my accent was… too much for the Parisian audience, as he would put it. Fine. He wants me to speak plainly? I’ll speak plain and easy and without a thought behind my words. No emotion, no reasonin’, no pain, “and fly far, far away!”
“You have been warned!” Connie seemed to take pleasure in pretendin’ to nail my foot to the stage, as if she wished she could actually do so instead of letting the projector do all of the hard work while Chairemi sprayed the audience with a little bit of blood.
“Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.” I flew slowly, without any motivation behind my movement as Connie rushed off-stage when Memoria called for her. “Little birdie Lulu’s caught in a trap, but she’s flapping her wings and getting free.”
Dreadin’ every step I took, I walked towards that damn window and stepped through it after I addressed the audience, who spoke my final line for me.
“Little birdie loves the breeze!”
At least they’re enjoyin’ themselves while I suffer durin’ the performance.
I don’t even like singin’ anymore. I mean, I didn’t love it beforehand, but I hate bein’ babied by the audience ‘n the coven every night. I am a strong, mighty vampire who could kill them all if I wanted to–!
One night, I just mumbled through the song ‘n my lines, lettin’ the audience do all the hard work for me since they know every word by heart. Hell, half the fuckin’ audience is dressed like me. They willingly dress like a child while I feel like I have to put on this costume every night so I have a place in the coven. Ain’t that somethin’?
I gave a half-hearted bow to thunderous applause, even though I could feel the stares from everyone off-stage, as well as Amir from the second-floor balcony. Eddie was there, too, and I hated the way I could feel the pity radiatin’ from his body. I don’t need any pity. ‘Specially not from him.
…At least one little birdie — Canary — got free, even if ‘m the one who has to suffer for it. I barely see her anymore, and when I do, it’s the happiest I’ve seen her since I was a child. Hell, you’d think I joined the coven for her, and not the other way around.
Or, maybe, Canary joined the coven for herself. She chose somethin’ that isn’t for me or for Eddie for fuckin’ once. She’s finally decided to live her own life. Good for her.
…I still miss my mama, though. I miss the way her fingers would comb through my hair as she sang me some French lullaby before she apologized for someone treatin’ me like a child, even though it wasn't her fault. It wasn't ever her fault.
Sometimes, it feels like Canary is the only one who sees me for who I am: a grown woman stuck in a child’s body.
I don’t know where she’s off to most nights, but by the smile on her face and the faint marks on her neck that returns with her every night at curfew, I can take a guess that she’s not out writin’ her novel for hours on end. Whoever’s got her attention is very, very lucky.
You might think it’s Eddie, but Canary seems to be avoidin’ him, too. When he comes to visit the coven, and he’s not too busy lickin’ the dirt off of Amir’s boot, he’s always askin’ me ‘bout where she is, or who she visits, or when he can see her next. He never asks me ‘bout me. What a fuckin’ self-centered asshole.
The funny thing is… they do talk. At least once a week, under Amir’s watchful eye. They go out into the Parisian streets on the one night a week that we perform in French, and they return a little before sunrise. Apparently, Canary ain’t tellin’ Eddie much. Yet again, those two always communicated better with their bodies than their words… yuck.
Anyways, it doesn’t surprise me when Amir singles me out after the performance and has me stand center-stage while he belittles my performance in front of the entire coven. Chairemi’s cleanin’ out the seats, which are covered in cigarettes and wrappers and mushed-up food that looks utterly disgusting, while Eddie sits far in the back of the house, arm wrapped around his beloved wife that happened to slip into the theater a little earlier than normal.
Canary looked shocked when Eddie came up to her, and he practically dragged her into a seat before speakin’ to her in a low tone. Before long, surprise was replaced by sweet smiles, and all was well in the Watts household once more.
…Besides anythin’ to do with me. Since the moment I was turned, my life hasn’t been about me. What a joke.
“Lackluster. Bromidic. Unacceptable.” Amir continues to rattle on an endless list of unflattering adjectives in my direction while I hang my head low, acceptin’ my fate.
“Yes, Maître.”
“So, explain to the company why the five-hundredth performance of My Baby Loves Windows felt more like a slog than a celebration?”
The performance felt like a slog ‘cause the fuckin’ script is a slog.
“Maître, I think that… I–”
“–Wave your words to shore, please.” Amir cuts me off before I have a chance to gather my words, which makes me huff in response.
Fine. He wants to hear my real thoughts? He can have ‘em.
“‘M a fierce vampire trapped in the body of a little girl.” I feel Canary’s eyes land on me as I tell Amir what’s been on my mind every night for months. “‘M reminded of it every night, of my existence, buttonin’ up this dress and singin’ and smilin’, while the mortals point ‘n laugh. I relive every condescendin’ look or fuckin’ comment I have ever had to suffer.”
I don’t wanna do this anymore. I’d rather hide in the back ‘n paint props or dispose of bodies or whatever the fuck they need me to do. I can’t do this. It’ll break me.
“I… I have lost my passion for on-stage work. I think I prefer backstage work.”
“Huh,” Amir clicks his tongue in disapproval before he turns to the coven’s playwright, “Chairemi?”
“Yes, Maître?” She answers, standin’ at attention while he narrows his eyes at me.
“What are you holding in your hand?”
“Popcorn bag,” Chairemi holds up the object in her left hand, then her right, “and a prophylactic.”
“And why, as the author of My Baby Loves Windows, would you humble yourself thus?” Amir’s lips quirk up when she immediately answers.
“It is a privilege to work in this theater. I do what I am asked, and I do it gratefully.”
Privilege my ass. The rest of the coven seems to disapprove of her response as well, blowin’ kisses to Chairemi after Drysdale and Bathsheba do it, as a way to mimic Chairemi’s ass-kissin’.
“And your nomadic passion, Harper,” God, the way Amir says my name is irritatin’, “owes your playwright an apology.”
“Sorry, Chairemi.” I, of course, apologize because what the fuck else am I goin’ to do?
“Oh, you’re grand.” Chairemi waves me off before she throws the items in her hand into a large trash bin.
“To help you rediscover your passion for Lulu, you’ll no longer remove your costume.” Canary’s eyes drill into the back of Amir’s skull as he punishes me. “You’ll sleep in it, rehearse in it, feed in it, hunt in it. You’ll live with Lulu off-stage, until she returns to you onstage.”
I locked eyes with Canary, who placed a hand over her heart before she tried to stand. Eddie pulled her back down as he raised his eyebrows at me. Me, of all people! Not the man who’s torturin’ me for kicks.
Me. Just me, always me.
Don’t.
I repeat that word in my head, over and over again, so Canary knows not to say anything. I don’t want her gettin’ in the middle of this. She doesn’t need to fight my battles. She doesn’t need to fight any battles. The war she wages within herself every day is enough for her to bear.
“And, yet, the audience sang along in full voice.” Drysdale murmurs, head bowed slightly as Bathsheba rubs his shoulders.
“The red hands of clapping cattle are not the measure of the Theatre Des Vampires.” Amir calmly refutes Drysdale's claim, and Drysdale pushes Bathsheba off of him before he stalks towards Amir with an air of unabashed confidence and control about him. The kind that made me respect him. “If they were, then your mugging and pandering would have us standing room only to the decade.”
“Nicely volleyed, Maître, but why single out our sister,” Drysdale stands next to me when he stops movin’ towards Amir, “when nomadic passion has infected the entire company?”
“Has it?”
“Maître might not have noticed,” Lady Memoria addresses him next, foldin’ her arms over her chest as Drysdale looks over at her in approval, “as he has been nomadically attending the Theatre Des Vampires.”
“And the infection spread, what, almost a year and a half ago?” Drysdale asks before Memoria answers his question, and I can hear the smoke comin’ out of Bathsheba’s ears as I feel the anger radiatin’ off of her like wave after wave of heat on a hot New Orleans day.
“When a certain vampire was granted dispensation from coven membership–”
“–It’s Eddie.” Finally, Eddie decides to pipe up as he places a hand over Canary’s body, to protect her from what may come next. “I have a name.”
“Eddie takes all of the proper precautions.” Amir says before Daisuke furrows his eyebrows, clearly displeased by what’s goin’ on.
“He reveals himself in the cafés, the salons and gallerias–”
“–I keep my business tight,” Eddie argues back, “thank you.”
“Maybe his human friends ask why he can only meet at dark?” Artt theorizes before Connie jumps in afterwards.
“He reads books during Blood Sabbath!”
“I’ll loan it to you when ‘m done,” He then glances at Canary, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he smiles into her skin, “as long as it’s okay with the author.”
“It’s still a work in progress, my love–”
“–oh… Then, maybe, they both should be punished!” Connie screeches, and I can’t help but snap ‘cause of how far we’ve derailed the conversation.
“This is not about Canary or Eddie!”
“Discipline Harper for bumping into the scenery, but let Eddie and Canary run wild?” Drysdale then looks to Canary, who softly whines before she hides in Eddie’s arms. “We know what you’ve been doing, sister.”
She shudders before she looks up at Eddie, who mutters some quiet, shallow words of reassurance to her, while Memoria feels the need to pipe up once more.
“It’s a show of shallow power–”
“–what do you think you’re doing?!?” Bathsheba hisses before she storms off to confront Memoria, and I know this won’t end without a fight. These vampires might actually be worse than Volt with their theatrics, which is an accomplishment in itself.
“And you do this for what?” Drysdale continues on, ignoring the fight that’s about to break out behind him. “Is it thirst? Is it love? What is he exactly? Are you companions?”
“Yes,” is what Amir answers–
“No.”
–which directly contradicts what comes out of Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie is a lot of fuckin’ things. A liar, a thief, a tormentor… but you can’t say that he’s not loyal. He is stupidly loyal to Canary, and he’d never call anyone else his companion. To him, it’s always been her. I’d wager that it’ll always be her. There is no Eddie Watts without Canary Watts. She is the Northern Star, the sun he cannot hope to touch or observe directly, the person he cannot live without. If she met the fire, he would join her soon afterwards.
After a moment of awkward silence and tense looks exchanged between Amir and Eddie, Drysdale smirks like he’s won all of the money in the world until Bathsheba speaks again.
“Put your tits back in your bloomers, slut!”
She leaps at Memoria, tearing at fabric and skin as she takes them both to the ground. They snarl and scream like freshly released hellions until Curt and Rod move to separate them.
…Of all the vampires to run into, of all the covens in the world, why’d I have to associate myself with them?
~
Eddie knows what conversation awaits him when Amir grabs his shirt, trying to hide himself from Eddie after their amorous encounter mere moments ago.
“If it’s not companionship, what is it?”
Eddie had two companions in America. One is dead, and the other is slipping through his fingers as the years go by. He knows he’s holding onto you too tight, but… were you really so desperate to escape him?
“It’s whatever you want to call it.” Eddie noncommittally says as Amir lights a cigarette.
“An affair? A romance?”
“That works for me,” Eddie’s eyes fixate on a candle at the edge of the bed, and he lights it with his mental power before he extinguishes the flame in the same way, “‘Companion’ works, too. It’s not the word I would use.”
He says that, but he doesn’t mean that Amir is his companion. It’s you. It’s always been you. You are the one Eddie has tied his destiny to, for better or for worse. He thought you were of the same opinion, so what changed? Was it you? Was it him?
Sure, you and Eddie speak once a week, with Amir’s hawk eyes watching you the entire time, but it isn’t like it used to be. It isn’t how Eddie wants it to be.
Your dates are short and sweet — a small stroll around a few boulevards before you return to the coven for the night. You spend most of the night talking Eddie’s ear off about your novel, gossip within the coven, how Harper is doing, or about your adventures with River.
He’s heard a lot about this River. Eddie has tried to ask Amir about her, but he remains tight-lipped about the whereabouts and personality of this mysterious woman. Whoever she is, she’s consumed your attention fully, and Eddie can’t help but be a little envious. He’d do anything for you within a moment’s notice, and he thought that this would earn him some sort of preferential treatment with you.
Yet again, Eddie remembers how you always got shoved to the side whenever Eddie fell back into Volt’s clutches. So maybe these are his just desserts. Maybe.
“So, it’s not whatever I want to call it, then?” Amir seems frustrated as he moves his legs off of the bed, reaching for his pants so he can begin to dress his lower half.
“What was the name of the place where Canary ‘n I first met?” Eddie suddenly asks, drawing confusion onto Amir’s face with the question.
“L’Oiseau Chanteur.”
“Azalea Hall,” Eddie corrects his lover, “L’Oiseau Chanteur was the name of the bar we owned together.”
“Well, you don’t talk about that time in your life very much.”
“No, I don’t. So it’s okay if you don’t remember those details,” Eddie reassures Amir, “‘cause that’s how this settled, and that’s great. This is great. What we got is great.”
Eddie swears he only took his eyes off of the candle for a second, but when his eyes return to the flame, a ghostly image of Volt is leaning in with a cigarette, trying to light it with the small fire. Spitefully, Eddie extinguishes the flame with his breath, but not before Volt manages to light his cigarette.
“It’s just not a companionship, then.” Amir defeatedly mumbles as he buttons his dress shirt over his toned, muscular chest.
“Oh, God, how do you manage it?” Volt sighs as he releases a cloud of noxious fumes — courtesy of the cigarette in his hands — into the air.
Eddie ignores Volt, choosing to deal with the real vampire in front of him. Eddie thought this was fun and occasional. Amir, apparently, had a different idea.
“We see each other when we want to,” Eddie says, “And when we want to be alone, we’re alone. And that’s good, it’s easy.”
“You are not alone. You pine after the woman who has stolen your heart, as well as mine,” Amir’s confession earns a guffaw from Volt, “This arrangement isn’t easy for me. You don’t understand the danger I risk every night for you, especially when it comes to those weekly meetings with your wife, and how that danger compounds with every slight.”
“What slights?” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly as Amir takes a seat next to him on the bed, deadly serious as he addresses Eddie.
“You rarely join us for a hunt. You read novels during performances–”
“–Canary asked me to be her second set of eyes when it comes to her writin’.” And Eddie is desperate to please you, desperate to bridge the sudden gap that separates you from him, so he agrees and reads them during the plays. So what? “I’ve seen those plays a hundred times!”
“I keep your secret.” Amir lays the nail in the metaphorical coffin with that one, causing Eddie to look down towards his folded hands as Volt decides to pipe up at the most inopportune of times.
“What? What’s the secret?” When Eddie doesn’t answer, Volt takes the liberty of answering for him. “Oh, I’m the secret. Eddie, darling, do you notice how hot the room gets when you two talk about the secret?”
Eddie looks back, lighting the candle once more, as a way to distract him from Volt’s words. And, once again, Eddie’s mind goes back to you and how you’re blissfully unaware of how Amir knows of what Eddie did that night.
He’ll ask for forgiveness later… maybe when he’s dead? Who knows.
“Progress.” Amir comments before Eddie hums in agreement.
“It only seems to work when I think of shit that pisses me off.”
Volt. The ache in his heart that he feels for you. Volt. The weight of a thousand lies resting upon his shoulder. Volt. The absolute mess he’s made between him and Harper, and how much he’s failed her as a father.
…Did he forget to mention Volt?
“I try and find the vulnerability within the object.” Amir suggests while Eddie tries to find a happy medium between their two worlds.
“So, you want me to come around more?”
“Yes, that would help,” Amir lets himself smile for the briefest of moments, “I’ll find a way to make Canary stay. She can be with you on the nights that you dedicate your full attention to the performances and the coven.”
Amir doesn’t have to tell Eddie twice.
“Okay, then, I’ll come around more.”
A rogue, awkward silence plagues the room before Amir softly exhales.
“I have to get back. Curfew.”
While they aren’t companions, Eddie still has strong feelings for him.
“I love you.” Eddie murmurs before Amir leans in, placing a guiding hand on Eddie’s jaw before Amir kisses him.
“I love you.” Amir whispers that loving sentiment back before Volt cackles in the background.
He swiftly exits while Volt continues to let laughter fall from his lips.
“You promised you wouldn’t talk!” Eddie hisses to Volt, who grins like he’s won it all.
“I love you.” Volt mocks Amir before Eddie haphazardly blows out the candle, slamming his head down on the pillow in defeat right afterwards.
~
Dolly narrows her eyes at one of the two vampires in the room.
“Are you schizophrenic, Eddie?”
She’s not joking, not mocking, not trying to be mean. She’s kind of concerned about Eddie’s mental health right now. Well, concerned is putting it lightly.
“...No?”
Very strong answer from the vampire in question. …Not.
“Did you consider yourself schizophrenic at the time?” Dolly follows up as Eddie looks at her, a bit puzzled.
“I’m not sure the term applies to a vampire.” Eddie says before — who would’ve fucking guessed it — Amir jumps in with a well-timed answer.
“Perhaps, when the book is published, enterprising psychotherapists will write papers. Until then, you only have Dolly Molloy.”
A pair of orange eyes. A bright sun. A black dress shirt.
Amir sits in front of a scared, younger Dolly.
“He was my biographer, my therapist, my murderer.” Dolly jokes, as a way to distract herself from that flashback, which earns a small chuckle from Eddie.
“Short of a diagnosis, would you like to know what it feels — felt — like?”
Dolly’s fingers fly across the keyboard at that Freudian slip before she answers him.
“Yeah, sure, why not?”
“I could feel the movement of air with his movements, his breath on the back of my neck,” Eddie continues to speak, but Dolly focuses on how… removed Amir seems as he stares off into the distance, like Volt’s appearances in Eddie’s mind have caused him pain, too, “If I were to reach out and touch his hand, I wouldn’t say it was his hand… but it was not not his hand.”
Amir’s gaze snaps back to Eddie, a small frown on his face, before Dolly decides to address him.
“And you weren’t feelin’ Volt in the room?”
“No.” He calmly answers, as if he wasn’t staring off into space a moment prior, “And I was not aware he was as present as it seems he was. But, looking back on it now, I can understand it.”
“Ah,” Dolly clicks her tongue before she brings up an old, buried hatchet, “The vampire bond, huh?”
“I was severing one,” Eddie explains, “and knitting another.”
While the audio recording software documents this entire conversation on this computer, Dolly pulls up that news article pertaining to the fire that took down the coven’s theater once more. Why not ask Eddie and Amir about this, too?
“So,” Better now than never, eh? “Were you two the only ones who survived the fire at the theater?”
A silence. A deadly silence as smiles fall and eyes dissect Dolly’s anatomy, down to her skin and bones.
Uh-oh.
“You weren’t provided any information about the fire in our archives.” Amir coldly says before Dolly’s launched into another flashback.
Cold floor against her cheek. Dress shoes clicking against the floor before they walk in front of her. A TV reporter speaks indistinctly… from an old TV, perhaps?
“That’s enterprising.” Amir’s voice is right in a younger Dolly’s ear, speaking in disjointed phrases that aren’t where they should be. “Is that what makes you fascinating?”
Again, suddenly, she’s face-to-face with Amir. A shining bright light from open curtains casts the vampire in front of her in a heavenly glow as he speaks in a low tone.
“In high school, you told a boy you’d only do him if he had a paper–”
Dolly blinks rapidly, trying to wipe the memory that continually forces its way into her brain.
What the fuck? Why do these memories keep coming up? Why are they so…?
“Uh, sorry.” She curtly says as Eddie looks at her with a bit of concern.
“The fire?”
“Yeah, umm…” Dolly’s gotta pull something out of her ass, rather quickly, “One of my researchers found it in the Beinecke Library in New Haven. She thinks we’re working on a book about the post-war reconstruction of Paris.”
To be safe, she closes the newspaper article that’s pulled up on her laptop screen. The last thing she needs, while her mind is running amuck with mismatched memories, is for Eddie and Amir to find out where she got that information from.
…And Dolly may fear what that means for you if they find out. What the fuck does any of this have to do with you? What the hell has Dolly gotten herself into, in the name of trying to help Eddie find his wife and maybe, just maybe, get one last bestseller out before she dies?
Dolly needs to pivot. Now. And what better subject to pivot to then the girl that makes them both uncomfortable — Harper?
“Harper,” She’s quick to grab one of Harper’s final journals, thumbing through the pages as she speaks, “In direct violation of the third Great Law, still journalin’. Shall we?”
~
Fuck these vampires.
Well, maybe not all of the vampires. I like most of the coven, when they’re not fuckin’ or makin’ eyes at each other. Drysdale defended me when it mattered, ‘n that counts in my book.
This punishment of Amir’s is what fuckin’ sucks. I have to dispose of the bodies in this abomination of a dress, which somehow remains free of stains despite the dirt and filth that surrounds me. I remember which box is the rat box, and which box is the body box as I pull the lever down, allowing the rats to scurry about as I open the door to one of the empty burial vaults.
Since I live with the coven now, it ain’t safe for me to keep my current journals out in the open. My earlier works are safe ‘n sound with Eddie, where no pryin’ eyes can get to them. Maybe I’ll come ‘n get them some day, so I know my words will be safe from the likes of men like Volt, Amir, ‘n Eddie. No one will see them but me.
I hid a pen in my dress, ‘n I quickly dug it out so I could write somethin’ about my current conditions, but someone’s voice caused me to jump ‘n slam my journal shut.
“What are you writing, Baby Lu?” It’s Drysdale, thankfully, but I still hide my work behind my back in case he’s thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ with it.
Yet again, I’ve never seen him in this shitty basement that’s below the backrooms. Sewers ‘n rats don’t seem to fit this man’s looks.
“Why are you lurkin’?” Annoyed, I roll my eyes as his feet fall down the stairs, ‘n then he joins me in this literal hellhole.
“Honoring the blood,” He then looks to the body box, “Pepa Matekja moved me. I wanted to hear his heartbeat one last time.”
“Well,” I gesture to the body box with my book, acceptin’ that I’m already caught, “here it comes.”
The rats go into a feedin’ frenzy, eliminatin’ the last of this man as they scurry about in their metal container. I feel a sort of kinship with ‘em. I know how it feels to be trapped ‘n forced to do things against your will. It’s not fun. Not at all.
“No vampire must commit to writing the history of vampires.” Drysdale cautiously reminded me as he looked to the book in my hand, ‘n I thought that was ridiculous.
This shit isn’t the history of the vampires. It’s my personal thoughts about whatever bullshit is pollutin’ my life at the moment, ‘n I seem to find a lot of it… or maybe it finds me? Doesn’t matter anymore. It is what it is.
“Law three. It’s not the history. It’s just… random thoughts.” I slowly explained. “It’s a habit.”
One I got from my mother, ‘n that secret will be buried with me. As far as they know, she’s just a fantasy writer. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. I intend to keep it that way.
“Read me some.”
…What? Drysdale wants to hear… my thoughts? My borin, uninterestin’ thoughts?
Fine. It can’t hurt at this point. Drysdale will report me to Amir whether I agree or not, so I might as well do it. Can't hurt nothin’ at this point, right?
I crack open my journal, flippin’ to one of my most recent entries before I read from the page.
“‘Memoria ‘n Connie hate me. I hear their petty insults in the middle of our scenes.’”
“Do you know what we call Lady Memoria behind her back?” Drysdale places his hands upon the rat box, lookin’ down at me after he adjusts his pajama robe, “The Marie Celeste, because her talent disappeared without trace years ago. And Connie is so far up Memoria’s arse that she doesn’t need a coffin to sleep in anymore.”
Drysdale then folds his arms over his chest before he grins at me.
“I do hope there’s something juicy in there.”
Juicy? Was that not juicy enough?
Well, there’s no harm in him readin’ my words — there’s nothin’ about our past lives in here, since I finished up writin’ about that stuff before I was inducted into the coven — so I tossed my journal to him with a small warning.
“There’s a few things about you in there,” I couldn’t help but smile, “Go on, then.”
“Maître has a grave attachment to the laws. Now, you may feel protected by his equally tender attachment to your Eddie, alongside his careful, loving meddling in the life of your Canary,” He catches the book with ease before he sets it upon the rat box, “But tender… can turn to tinder.”
I know this. I don’t need Eddie’s help, or any favoritism from Amir because he’s with Eddie. I came to the coven of my own free will. I’m the one who was used and abused for months, and I agreed to those vampires laws. This has nothin’ to do with Eddie.
“I took an oath. I don’t need it.” I confidently said as Drysdale walks towards one of the burial plots on the wall behind me.
“Francis Naughton was transformed without the permission of the vampire Amir, in absentminded violation of law one,” His sharp fingers nails tap a vault above his head, “and here lies his daddy vamp.”
Yeah, I don’t wanna end up like that.
While lockin’ eyes with Drysdale, I open up the top of the rat box before I throw my journal in there, causin’ him to tut at me.
“Don’t be melodramatic. I have bent law four with at least half of the working girls at La Chabanais, but I am rigorous.” Drysdale steps towards me, opening up the rat box again before he fishes out my journal from the mouths of those rats. “Had I been Memoria or Connie, lurking in the shadows…”
He then presents me with the book as I stare at him.
“And thank you for the kind words you wrote about me.”
“How do you know what I wrote?” I snatched the book from him before I looked him in the eyes.
“I read it, just right now, in front of you.”
There’s no fuckin’ way. Yet, I’m tempted to believe Drysdale when he gasps in mock surprise. This vampire is somethin’, alright.
~
“Non, merci.”
Since the stage wasn’t workin’ out for me still, Amir had me workin’ the streets with this awkward, double-sided sign hangin’ off my shoulders as I tried to hand fliers to drunk French folks who wanted nothin’ to do with me.
I wasn’t surprised when yet another pair of mortals, a man and a woman, refused me before they burst into giggles.
Yeah, ‘m still in this fuckin’ dress, with these braids in my hair and these tight shoes that barely fit my feet.
I continued to walk down the dark alleyway, brushin’ off their rejection with a chin held high before another man approached me, hollerin’ at me with his voice that he purposefully deepened.
“Hey, Baby Lu!”
No. Absolutely not.
Still, I hand him a flyer when he sings my song back at me — why can’t Amir get one of these fanatics to sing ‘n dance ‘n act on stage instead of me, huh? Why can’t that happen? — and that causes him to move along as I slowly walk forward before I stop movin’.
Y’know what? Fuck this. Fuck him.
…That mortal's blood tasted pretty fuckin’ good, since I was starvin’ off the scraps that the coven fed off of, night after night. It’s been a while since we went on a proper hunt, so that asshole was a real treat to me.
I made sure to wipe the blood from my mouth after I dragged the body into a spare alleyway, ‘n then I continued on my way. I handed out flyers to two women sittin’ outside of a café, a busy man who brushes by me on his bike, ‘n a man who doesn’t bother to give me a second glance as he’s too busy readin’ his book…
Wait. I’ve been down this street before. I saw the streetlights flicker on the night that I got those pretty dresses for me ‘n my mama. The night before I involved myself in this coven bullshit.
Her. I remember her. The dressmaker — or tailor? Or is she both? — with the pretty red hair, almost like mine, ‘n the fierce attitude towards me. What was her name again?
…Oh. I didn’t get it the first time. Fuck.
I pull out one of the least crinkled flyers from my hands before I slowly approach the dressmaker who’s tryin’ to wipe an ugly symbol from the Germany army off of one of her storefront windows.
I don’t know what to say to her, even though ‘m standin’ right behind her. She has her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, lookin’ way more composed than I am. She wears a long-sleeved, grey blouse with a black skirt that’s pooled around her legs, hidin’ her flesh from me.
I wouldn’t think about bitin’ her. She wasn’t kind to me, but I liked her. There was somethin’ real — really real — about the way she talked to me. Like she wasn’t pretendin’ to like me.
“You sold me two dresses.” I open with that line, which draws her attention to me. Success! “In your shop window. Mine was lavender silk, if that helps? …It was very chic.”
“You overpaid.” The tailor plainly says, holdin’ a drippin’ sponge in her hands. “With crumpled-up bills and some earrings with… blood on them? Almost like they were ripped from the lobes.”
Oops. I forgot about those. My bad.
“‘Don’t remember you complainin’.” I place my hands on my hips, since the signs for the Theatre Des Vampires, plastered with my fuckin’ face, are only on my front ‘n back, leavin’ my sides wide open.
“You have a body that's about to bloom and the mind of a sophisticate.” The red-haired dressmaker noted. “You didn’t smile.”
Yeah, ‘m aware of the state of my mind ‘n body. Painfully so.
“Funny, ‘cause you made no impression on me at all.” I lied.
The woman then grinned at me, causin’ my heart to race like it never had before, as she dropped her sponge into the bucket of water next to her folded legs.
“I liked you,” She said, like it didn’t make my face flush, “Have you moved on from your pickpocketing ways? You’re clowning now?”
I certainly feel like a clown in this outfit.
“‘M an actress now.” I try to stand proudly, but how can I be proud when this outfit makes me look like a baby?
“Ah! Okay, Theatre Des Vampires?” She vaguely gestured to the name on my sign, ‘n I nodded. “I have seen this show. A divertissement."
Huh. She’s still got that spark after all of this time?
It’s rude to dig into her mind, but I can’t help myself. I have to know her name.
…Lucinda, huh? I wonder if that name on the front door — Lavish — is her last name.
Lucinda Lavish. It rolls off my tongue quite nicely, right?
“‘Still dressin’ your windows for your German tourists?” I pointed to that symbol, painted in red, as she shrugged her shoulders ‘n smiled at me.
“I bet your French is still ugly, like your doll outfit.”
God, she’s pretty.
“You’re right,” I conceded before I added one last thing to our conversation, “I just wouldn’t say it ‘cause it’s rude ‘n obvious.”
I threw that flyer that I especially picked out for her in her bucket of water before I waltzed off, ‘n I felt her eyes watch me ‘til I rounded the corner ‘n disappeared from her sight.
“Merci!”
Lucinda thanked me. I’d think about that for a long time.
~
It’s noisy in this restaurant. Far too noisy for Eddie’s tastes, but he doesn’t really seem to mind all of the buzz in this fancy establishment when you’re seated this close to him. God, how long has it been since Eddie’s been able to hold you without Amir breathing down his neck?
The man in question sits in the middle of the long table, somewhat happily positioned between Curt and Artt, who chat over his shoulders like he’s not even there. At one end of the table, Drysdale sits with Lady Memoria, ignoring a pouting Bathsheba who whines and hisses when Connie tries to offer her a comforting hand on her shoulder. Rod sits across from Curt, happily debating Daisuke and Chance about something to do with the stage and the lightning. Near your somewhat happy family, who are sitting at the opposite end of the table to Drysdale and Memoria, Chairemi and Miranda write their scripts and scores furiously, as if the chaos of the coven isn’t happening around them.
It’s business as usual for the coven, but not for the three of you. Eddie thinks it’s been at least a year since the three of you were together in one spot and talking to each other, and he didn’t realize how much he missed seeing you and Harper together, occupying the same space, until he watches you animatedly talk to your daughter.
“So this couple, the Perriers, they got this salon thing they call the R-26.” You speak with a passion that Eddie adores as Harper leans in, completely enthralled by your words. “They’re artist types, some showin’ work, some just to be there. Painters, poets…”
“Photographers?” Harper glances at Eddie before you turn around and place a comforting hand on Eddie’s chest.
He thinks he might melt into a puddle of affectionate goop from the gesture. How long has he yearned for these casual touches? Sure, you placed your hand on his arm when he took you on your weekly nightly walks, and you politely kissed his cheek or forehead as a hello or goodbye, but this was different. This is natural affection towards a man you adore, who adores you right back.
“Yeah, there were some. I wanted to show some of Eddie’s work, so he could get some love back.” The pout on your face practically forces Eddie to kiss your cheek repeatedly, until you giggle and that pout transforms into that sweet, beautiful smile of yours.
Eddie catches Amir’s eyes from across the table, and he grins in approval before Eddie hears a whisper from across the table.
“I don’t know what he sees in him. He’s not that attractive.”
Drysdale. The man who has been, according to Harper, either making eyes at you or glaring at you when you’re looking away from him. You never looked back — either because you hadn’t noticed yet, or, more likely, you really aren’t interested in pursuing men anymore — but Eddie still scowls a bit when Memoria chimes in next.
“And that waterfall of pretension that comes from his wife, bursting forth from her mouthal cavity.”
Eddie doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms fully around you before he buries his head into the crook of your shoulder. You don’t stop talking about your novel for a moment, as Harper is fully engaged with you; however, you do acknowledge Eddie by placing a gentle hand on top of his head. Your fingers tangle into his hair, like they’re supposed to, and he hums in contentment as he tries to distract you — and himself — from whatever’s going on at the opposite end of that table.
Unfortunately, you’re the only one who’s successfully distracted as Eddie catches the next part of Drysdale and Memoria’s conversation.
“Read my mind and grab my nethers.”
“Already doing it.”
God, these vampires are fucking weird. Eddie, for a long time, thought the three of you were… unique, to put it lightly, with your own challenges, traumas, and difficulties. Then, he met these vampires, who quickly changed his mind.
…Funny how Amir is the normal one, out of all of them.
“Chairemi was late with the bed bellows.” Curt suddenly speaks across the table, but you and Harper pay him no mind as Chairemi snaps her head up, attention successfully pulled from her work.
“Head’s in a hat,” She smacks the papers in front of her with her pen in a constant, steady rhythm that draws Miranda’s eyes towards her, “I’m working on a new play. ‘Won’t happen again, Maître.”
“It happened four times!” Curt points out, quite loudly, before Chairemi grovels for Amir’s approval.
“It won’t happen again, Maître. I swear on it.”
“Bathsheba?” Amir calls her name as she’s transfixed on the sight of Memoria and Drysdale snuggled up together.
“Catanoic since Drysdale has taken up with Memoria again.” Artt casually answers Amir before he stares at Rod from across the table, noticing that he’s a little less talkative than usual, “what’s wrong with Rod?”
“He’s hung over from last night!” Connie butts in, excited to include herself in one conversation at this table. “Rod split from the pack and over-served himself in the Latin Quarter. He ran down the street screaming, ‘I am a vampire! I am a vampire!’”
“The wheels seem to be coming off this week, Maître.” Artt observes, and Eddie retains his opinion about these vampires — Merde, they might be stranger than strange, in his book — as he hones back in on your conversation with Harper.
“It’s not just Paris givin’ birth to more genius.” You explain. “She’s givin’ birth to…”
“To modernity itself?” Harper sounds rather optimistic — a new look that Eddie isn’t used to, alongside that baby blue dress that is certainly a… fashion statement, to say the least — as she picks up where you left off.
“Yes!” You run your fingers through Eddie’s hair in a repeated, comforting motion that would lull him to sleep if he didn’t feel the need to be on-guard with these vampires that surround the three of you. “Sculptors ‘n authors, ‘n photographers, ‘n saxophone players. Interminglin’, innovatin’. Collapsin’ two art forms into one–”
Eddie wants to listen to you ramble until the end of time itself, for his selfish need to hear your pretty voice in his ears, but he picks up on a certain someone mimicking your accent and voice from across the table.
“–Comin’ up with new ones. Meanwhile,” Drysdale’s impression of you draws the attention of the other coven members, who grin wickedly or stare in amazement at the man as he continues to repeat your every word, right in time with you, “everyone’s fawnin’ over Picasso, but out there on the Left Bank, in shabby hotel rooms ‘n cold water walk-ups, a new generation’s… rippin’ apart the old modes. Burstin’ into new ones.”
You notice, catching Drysdale’s eye from across the room. That beautiful, graceful, kind smile that Eddie wants to paint on your features forever is wiped off of your face. The confidence you wore with elegance and beauty is now reduced to rubble and ash as your shoulders slump. Your hand wraps around your waist as a means to comfort yourself, and Eddie’s quick to place his hand over yours. He’s with you, all of the way.
“‘Suppose I can come off haughty.” You force out a bit of fake laughter, alongside a tiny smile that doesn’t feel at home on your face.
Eddie hates this. He doesn’t want you to pretend to be something you’re not. He loves his Canary, the one that babbles about books for hours on end without asking his opinion once. The girl who climbs into his lap and smothers his face in kisses just because she wants to.
“Everyone’s fawnin’ over Picasso, but not me, not Ms. Canary Watts,” Drysdale does a perfect impression of your voice, down to the cadence, accent, and pitch, “I’m out on the streets, in the barricades with the avant-garde.”
“Funny.” You murmur, looking away in shame as anger starts to boil inside of Eddie’s chest.
The coven can fuck with him all they like. They can toss whatever bullshit they want his way, but he will not allow you to become a victim to their abuse. Not when he’s around to protect you.
“See, now that I’ve wriggled inside of your voice, pulled it on like a costume,” Drysdale seems to take pleasure in making you shrink further and further into yourself with every word that comes out of your mouth, “you don’t sound all that Chicago to me.”
“Outside Chicago,” Harper adds, her voice dimming Eddie’s internal rage for the briefest of moments, “We roamed all around.”
Amir sternly looks at Eddie, and Eddie knows he’s thinking about the secret — their secret — that he has to keep safe, in order to keep the three of you safe.
God, how did the three of you end up in such a predicament?
“It’s the emphasis on that second syllable,” Drysdale purrs, “borrowed from the French.”
“So it’s mimicry you’re good at.” You can hold your own when someone comes after you, and Eddie squeezes your hand in support of you. He’s got you. He won’t dive in and be the defensive husband unless he needs to be. “Like a parrot?”
Eddie chuckles under his breath at that one. Never change, sweetheart.
The rest of the table is dead silent as you and Drysdale go back and forth with each other.
“Like a gent with upright downstairs–”
“–Or, Drysdale, are you like an organ monkey–?”
“–Cajun drawl. I want to test a theory. Say… New Orleans?”
“Don’t fuck with me.” You hiss, yet the pain in your eyes is extremely evident to Eddie.
He sees tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes, and that’s when he decides that enough is enough. Disrespect pointed towards him? That’s all fine and dandy.
You, however? You’re off-limits. Your gentle, loving heart has been through enough heartbreak and struggle. He won’t let someone else take away the inner peace that you’ve managed to create over the past couple of years. Even if that peace exists without him.
Drysdale snarls at you, and you flinch, despite your distance from him. Eddie takes advantage of the distraction, and he uses his inhumane speed to race over to Drysdale before he grabs Drysdale’s tongue between two of his fingers and pulls it out of his mouth in the most painful way imaginable. Not enough to separate the organ from its home, but enough to get the message across.
Eddie places his free hand on Drysdale’s throat, to compromise his wind pipes, as the man under siege feebly claws at Eddie’s dress pants.
“Anythin’ else you wanna say about my wife while I’ve got your attention?” Eddie growls. “I couldn’t hear you from the other side of the table, but you’ve got my attention now.”
“Enough.” Amir warns in a low, deep voice. Normally, Eddie would be rational enough to listen to him.
Ration flew out the fucking window when Drysdale decided to make fun of Eddie’s sweetheart, the wife he loves to death and whatever lies beyond the grave, his Canary. He’s done a lot of shitty things, some directed towards you, but he won’t let this blatant disrespect slide.
“Spit it out.” Eddie taunts. “I got all night.”
“Enough!” Amir yells at the top of his lungs before he slams his hand down on the table, forcing every vampire’s head down except yours, his, Eddie’s, and Drysdale’s.
He also freezes time for all of the mortals that happen to co-exist in the same space as your unholy party, so they’re not privy to this conversation.
“Come on! What is it?!” Eddie scoffs when Drysdale still refuses to answer him. “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”
“I said enough.” Amir sneers before Eddie lets go of Drysdale’s tongue and throat, but not without one last mocking comment.
“Aren’t you a good boy?”
Drysdale digs his claws into the table, eager to stand up and start a brawl in the middle of the restaurant until Amir gives him a deadly look.
“If you two want to act like fledglings, do it in the darkness.” Amir commands before he waves his hand over the table, releasing the humans and vampires alike from his control.
The chatter from the mortals surrounding the vampire company lightens up the room as Eddie calmly walks back towards you. You’re shivering, terrified out of your mind from what you’ve just seen, so Eddie peels his jacket off before he places it upon your shoulders.
“Mon ange,” His hands rub your shoulders, slowly working to release the pressure and tension that’s built up in your body from the last few minutes, “you wanna–?”
“–please, my love.” You sniffle as Eddie helps you out of your chair with a gentlemanly hand, and his heart bursts with affection and desire for you when you tackle him into a hug. “I wanna go home with you. Please don’t make me go back with the coven.”
“You can stay with me, sweetheart,” His hands go to your back as he gently sways you in his arms, and Eddie can’t help but smirk when he sees Drysdale sticking out his tongue, still recoiling from Eddie’s assault upon him. “Stay as long as you’d like. My home is your home. Our home.”
Eddie quickly escorts you out of the establishment, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you both ignore the looks you earn from the coven. You wave at Harper, and you open your mouth to speak to her, but she shakes her head at you, dismissing you without having to exchange pleasantries.
Eddie, come back!
No. He’s taking care of you right now, and that comes first.
You breathe easier the moment you escape that hellish place, as if your soul was returned to your body the moment you took in a breath of clean, fresh nighttime air.
“I love you, Eddie,” You murmur after you two stand together, coated in an awkward silence that feels atypical for your usual dynamic, “and ‘m sorry if I haven’t been showin’ up for you in the ways I should’ve–”
“–no, sweetheart, it’s my fault. I should’ve made more of an effort to see you–”
“–’m not tryin’ to hide from you.”
That admission releases a lot of weight off of Eddie’s shoulders. At least you’re not mad at him and trying to hide in another’s arms in order to make yourself feel better.
“Eddison,” You turn to your husband, eyes softening when he fixes your hair to be exactly like it was before a small breeze messed with it, “what the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?”
“I don’t know.” He admits. “The coven scares me.”
“They scare me too.”
Your agreement comes as a surprise to Eddie, and he’s tempted to push for more information, but he doesn’t want to push you away in the process.
“Harper’s a grown woman, she can handle herself, but…” You sigh deeply. “This is different. We’re havin’ to put on three different masks in order to get through the day, ‘n ‘m tired of it. I can tell that she’s gettin’ tired of it too.”
“So you wanna leave?” Eddie asks.
“Maybe,” A beat of silence, then you question him, “do you?”
No is the immediate answer that comes to mind. Despite remaining casual, despite denying being companions, despite everything… Eddie can’t let go of Amir. It’s real, and it’s different to what he had with Volt. Eddie has a chance to do this right, for once, and he doesn’t want to squander it.
“Maybe.” He repeats your answer back to you, causing you to lightly chuckle.
“‘Should’ve expected that,” You yawn before you cover your mouth, hiding the fangs that suddenly expose themselves, “I barely ate, ‘n my body’s tellin’ me that we’ve only got a little time before–”
“–I’ll get you somethin’ to eat, Canary.” Eddie’s hand drifts down to your stomach. “How are you feelin’? ‘Haven’t had much of a chance to talk one-on-one since you…”
Joined the coven?
“Better than usual,” Your lips curl up into a smile, “I don’t know if it’s the woman or the novel or both, but my aches ‘n pains are less common, ‘n my hunger isn’t as extreme as it usually is.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the same, but I don’t feel like ‘m dyin’, y’know?” You clarify. “I don’t have those spells where I forget where ‘m goin’ or what ‘m doin’.”
“‘M happy for you, pretty girl. You deserve that much, after all the shit you’ve been through.” Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before he notices a small frown on your lips. “...Did I miss somethin’?”
“You didn’t kiss me,” You pause before you elaborate further, “on the lips.”
“Makin’ demands, are we?” Eddie gently teases you before he takes your comment seriously. He will not be passing up the chance to kiss you on the lips, since such an opportunity seems to rarely present itself these days. “Is that what you want? ‘Cause you know I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Please, Eddie?” Your bottom lip juts out in an adorable manner that ties Eddie’s stomach in knots — you’ve placed a curse on him to make him yours with just a look or a touch, he swears by it — before he kisses you on the lips, as requested.
Your giggles are completely swallowed by him as his hands find their usual spot on their hips, and he bites back a groan when the simple action of him burying his fingers into the fabric of your skirt, slowly circling the skin of your hips, causes you to softly moan.
“You are maddenin’, y’know that?” He chuckles after he steals another kiss from you — call Eddie greedy, he doesn’t give a fuck at this point. “I love you, Canary. I love you so goddamn much that it hurts sometimes. When we get home, to our home, ‘m gonna show you how much I love you, over ‘n over again ‘til you fall asleep, okay?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” Breathlessly, you allow Eddie to lead you towards the apartment you once shared together. “Are you gonna take more pictures of me?”
“...Obviously, sweetheart. You’re gonna look good when you’re covered in my marks.”
~
“Early work, huh?” Dolly sorts through another shoebox that’s full of Eddie’s black-and-white photos from Paris. “I can’t read anythin’ I wrote before Micheal Jackson’s hair caught on fire… but some of these aren’t bad, Eddie.”
Eddie, in response, shakes his head.
“They document, nothing more.”
“I mean, this one, with the fountain and the couple,” Dolly shows Eddie and Amir the photograph that she’s been staring at for a while, “and the water’s glowin’. I think I’ve seen it somewhere, like in a book or somethin’, right?”
Eddie places his hands on his knees before he stands, calmly walking towards the reporter.
“There’s a good reason you picked that one,” He sighs as he takes a closer look at the photo, “It’s not mine.”
Eddie then takes the photo from Dolly’s hands before he begins to sort through the rest of the photos, plucking out the ones that Dolly assumes, based on his poor handling of them, do not belong to him.
Amir glances at Dolly, side-eyeing her as she keeps her gaze focused on Eddie.
Orange eyes. Bright sun. Cramping legs. The bravado of a young, scared journalist.
…Dolly’s setting a reminder on her phone to up the dosage of her Parkinson’s medication when she gets home. She cannot be dealing with this for the rest of her life.
“Some of these are from the mid-thirties,” Eddie muses as he sorts through the photos he hand-picked, “we were still in New Orleans at the time.”
Dress shoes clicking on the apartment floor. Some news reporter talking about San Francisco, when Dolly was young and dumb and admired those people on the TV station. Plastic wrapped around… Jesus Christ, is that a fucking body?
What is happening to Dolly’s mind? Fragmentation or reunification of old memories? Both, maybe?
“What is this?” Eddie turns to Amir, handing him one of the photos as a bit of frustration begins to appear on Eddie’s face.
“Azizam, that one belongs to Eric Stein–”
“–why is it in there? Why are all these in there?”
A break in the sturdy foundation between Eddie and Amir. Growing resentment, perhaps?
“Don’t ask me.” Amir shoots back before Eddie folds his arms over his chest, sternly staring at his partner — his companion — for the last seventy-five or so years.
And how’s that turning out for you right now, huh?
“We’ve been staring at these for half of a century–”
“–I didn’t put those there, Eddie,” Amir tries to calm Eddie down with a soothing voice that feels more fitting for a toddler than a grown-ass vampire, “Canary did purchase some photographs during her time in Paris, and she might have sorted those in with your own compositions when we were in such a hurry to leave the country after she–”
“–don’t you dare bring Canary into this.” Eddie hisses, tossing the remaining photographs onto the table haphazardly before he collapses into his seat.
Noticeably, he’s facing away from Amir this time, solely locked into Dolly as she tries her best to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Assad might’ve confused them.” Amir offers a simple explanation that Dolly doesn’t listen to as her mind snaps back into yet another flashback.
“In high school, you told a guy you’d only do him if he had a paper bag over his head. He agreed, and you did–”
That body from earlier? It falls to the ground, right beside Dolly. She can look into its cold, dead, meaningless eyes as she waits for–
“–This is embarrassing. I don’t want you thinking that I was trying to pass them off as mine.” Eddie explains, and Dolly can only weakly nod along as she tries to pull herself together.
What the fuck? How far did they dig into my mind? What dam did they break loose in there?
“Yeah.” She feebly answers, pinching the bridge of her nose to help relieve the headache that’s starting to grow in-between her nostrils.
No shit. You see a dead body in a memory of your past, and it stresses you out… obviously.
“I was an amateur photographer. Make sure your readers know that.”
What did he just say?
“Sure, umm…” She’ll note down Eddie’s… whatever the fuck he just mentioned later, when she’s had the time to review this recording. “Can I get some aspirin? ‘Got a migraine that’s startin’ to build.”
Jesus Christ, Dolly, get your shit together! You don’t have those recordings anymore. All you have is your memories, and those are shit.
~
I saw Lucinda in the audience tonight. She was wearin’ a red blouse ‘n a skirt that matched her top — well, obviously they do, ‘cause she’s a dressmaker, dumbass. She’s gotta have some good fashion sense so she can sell her clothes to somebody, after all.
She didn’t look real impressed with my performance. I mean, I gave it some effort, but it certainly wasn’t my best work. I hope she stays later, so I can talk with her.
My wish came true when I was outside the theater, signin’ those programs that Chairemi hands out at the front of the house every night when I saw Lucinda from across the street. I hurriedly moved through everyone else in the line before I rushed over to her, eager to see and hear from her yet again.
“I know,” I lamented to her as she smoked her cigarette, “my French is terrible.”
Tonight’s performance was in French, and it was… uh, not good, to say the least. I’ve been tryin’ to learn the language, but ‘m not able to speak it as well as Eddie ‘n Canary can.
“It’s better than the plays.” Lucinda commented, which made me smile after a long while of not smilin’. “When you went out the window and you cracked your neck… yeah, that was good.”
“Then the song came back on.” I groaned, ‘n she simply nodded in agreement.
“Oh, oui. They should kill whoever wrote it.”
Her smile didn’t show any teeth, but it was still pretty to me.
I think everything about Lucinda is pretty.
Before I could speak to her again, Bathsheba called out to me after she opened the door to the theater.
“Harper! You’re needed in the wet room!”
One fuckin’ hour. Is that too much to ask for?
“I’ll be there in a minute!” I hollered back before Lucinda dropped her cigarette onto the ground before she extinguished it with her red heel.
“Merci, Lulu.” She said her goodbyes to me, which made me sad. “For whatever that was.”
She turned ‘n walked away from me, but I couldn’t let her go that easily.
“Hey!” I yelled, ‘n I felt myself grow a little sick when her eyes locked with mine. “You want a ride home?”
I’ve seen the coven use those bikes a thousand times over, ‘n Artt’s let me drive his once or twice. I can handle drivin’ Lucinda home all on my own.
~
Eddie moves Harper’s journals aside in a haphazard manner before he hangs a few new pictures of Paris, of mortals that he’s drained, of you in the space above her bed.
“You really think they’re good enough for a gallery?” Eddie appears to be talking to himself until he turns to face Volt, who’s dressed in a maroon-colored suit that perfectly contrasts his white curls.
He’s not real, I shouldn’t be asking him about anything… but I still am. Nothing’s changed, has it?
“Eddie, perhaps you’re overthinking–?”
“–I can only take ‘em at night,” Eddie moves through the apartment, which looks more like the external display of the manic delusions of a spiraling artist than a home for three. He’s hung various clothes lines this or that way in the room, and each photo is hung with a clothes pin on any and all available space on the line, “when I can’t control the light ‘m gettin’. Am I supposed to stand by a street lamp ‘n wait for the world to pass under it? …’M a vampire.”
Eddie ducks under one of the lines, with Volt following right behind him.
“You’re a vampire,” Volt points out, “a hunter!”
“‘M out there, prowlin’ for the moment,” Eddie rubs his forehead as Volt passes him, taking a seat near your old writing desk, “Do you know how many shots I’ve taken, only to find that the light was insufficient when I put it in the bath?”
“Tell me, mon chéri.” Despite all his fucking faults — and there were a lot of them — Volt always took the time to listen to Eddie complain about this customer at the bar, or that businessman that pissed Eddie off because he talked down to you.
“A whole goddamn lot. Look at this,” Eddie pulls one of the photos down from the clothes line before he hands it to Volt, ignoring the way Volt immediately takes a bite out of the photo before he crumples it up and sticks the entire thing into his mouth, “Most of these photographers spend two or three days with their muses before they take a photo with ‘em. I can’t do that. I’ll end up eatin’ ‘em.”
“Like this gentleman,” Volt says, pointing at various photos on your desk as he finishes chewing the photo in his mouth, “And this one. Oh, and her.”
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge Volt’s antics; instead, he grabs another photo from Harper’s bed before he hangs it in the empty spot in front of him.
“Here. Tell me one thing wrong about this photo.” Eddie turns to Volt, who’s suddenly appeared behind him.
“Well, for one thing, I’m not in it.”
That… does sound like something that Volt would say.
Eddie sighs before he deadpans at his deceased lover.
“Please?” He’s desperate for some sort of critique, and Volt’s yellow eyes threaten to pull Eddie under his control — Merde, the man isn’t even alive and Eddie’s still captivated by him — once the men gaze at each other once more.
“Hmm,” Volt places his hands behind his back as he observes the photo of a beautiful building near the vampiric theatre, with the moon hung in the top-left of the composition, “Your lens is not entirely clean. And you see here, in the corner? It’s blurred. On this very night, you only had eight frames of film on you. A haunting set of clouds moved in minutes after your last shot. If it lacks singularity, there is nothing wrong per se with the frame, but…”
Volt breathes in as Eddie notices all of the various faults that Volt had pointed out.
“Perhaps, going forward, when the moon is your favored source of light… a little patience?”
That was… nicer than Eddie expected. Well, that’s the nicest thing that this version of Volt has ever said to him.
“What light through yonder window breaks?” A clean, crisp voice enters the apartment before Volt starts cackling behind Eddie. “It is there, no? Northwest, and Eddie is the sun?”
“Romeo!” Volt claps his hands together as Eddie goes to the open window doors that lead to the balcony that you had once decorated with flowers. They’re all wilted and dead, without your tender care to nurture them back to health. “Barely Balthasar.”
“The moon, perhaps?” Eddie shuts the doors behind him as Amir speaks to him from the street below Eddie. “I was wondering if you wanted to take one of our walks.”
Eddie watches as Amir holds out a bundle of your favorite flowers — an olive branch to bridge the growing distance between them.
Eddie knows he probably shouldn’t accept, but he does anyway.
~
The motorcycle didn’t work out too well, but Lucinda didn’t mind walkin’ home with me; in fact, she even invited me into her shop! How amazin’ is that?
Before I knew it, she had me standin’ in front of three mirrors with a pretty yellow, floral dress hung over my frame that she carefully pinned together so it fit me perfectly.
“So,” Lucinda grabbed a pin from the pin cushion in my left hand before she reached towards the skirt of my dress, “you spend the day and night in the dress? Is this some acting process?”
“It’s a punishment.” I don’t lie to Lucinda. I don’t feel the need to. I think I can be honest with her, since she’s been honest with me.
“Because you don’t like flapping your arms in their stupid play?” Lucinda laughed that sweet laugh of hers before she shook her head.
I hummed in agreement before she locked eyes with me via the mirror.
“Are you their hostage?”
Not quite, but it certainly feels like it, somedays.
“...More like they’re my family?” I said as I offered her another pin as she worked on my dress.
“T.B. killed my family. All of them, dead,” Lucinda said as she placed pin after pin on one side of the skirt, “Oh, my town was sad for me, ‘Oh, poor orphan!’ But, I mean, not too sad because we had money, and they didn’t know my family.”
“We gonna talk about that?” My head nodded towards that ugly symbol that was still painted on the front of her shop. I saw enough of that… thing when we briefly crossed through Germany.
“A lieutenant from Dusseldorf,” She stopped pinnin’ me to look at the sharp, red lines on the front window of her store, “He was nineteen. He said, ‘I want to know what love is like before I die.’”
I knew someone like that — Dirkie — a long time ago. It didn’t end too well.
“Sounds like a line.” I forced a smile onto my face, to mask my pain as I pushed that memory to the back of my mind, ‘n Lucinda laughed at what I said before she got off of her knees ‘n worked to adjust the dress on my shoulders.
Her hands, with the softest of caresses, set my body on fire. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like ‘m dyin’, bein’ so close to her.
“I thought so too, but then he shook so much when I took my shirt off,” Lucinda confessed before she plucked another pin from the cushion in my hand, “He gave me food and cigarettes, but it was the comfort for me. He was alive. I know it sounds like a joke, but when there’s death all around–”
“–I saw the war, too.” I butted in as she pinched the fabric on my shoulders with two of her fingers before she pinned it together.
“Huh,” She gave me a strange look, shakin’ her head once more before she picked up her story again, “And the lovemaking… You know, it was so boyish. Up and down, and up and down. He even had his eyes closed. I said, ‘You’re making love to me, and you think it’s wrong to look at me?’”
Her smile fell as she smoothed out a wrinkle in the sleeve of the dress.
“I wasn’t inviting Hitler to stay in France,” She quietly said, “I was inviting a frightened boy to cradle my tits.”
Satisfied with her work, Lucinda walked over to her desk before she dramatically opened a bottle of wine.
“And now I’m a traitor. A slut.” She murmurs before she pours herself, then me, a glass of wine.
Finally, someone besides my mother treats me like an adult. Only took, what, fifteen years and a trip ‘round the world to find someone like that? …Go fuckin’ figure.
~
Eddie has a list of places that he expects Amir to take him. The Louvre Museum that he walks through, with Amir at his side, is not one of them.
God, you’d love to see the towering paintings and beautiful, handcrafted sculptures that Eddie passes by, but you’re not here with him. You can’t be, for your own wellbeing.
With panting breaths, you pulled your chest away from Eddie’s, not daring to touch your intertwined legs or hands.
“Honey,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead before your hands ran up his bare forearms, then down his naked chest, “I can’t stay in the coven anymore. It’s not good for me.”
“Why, sweetheart?”
“I can’t really explain it. I just… don’t fit in there. I don’t fit in anywhere.” You softly admitted, which caused Eddie to scoff under his breath. You belonged with him. You always had a place in his heart, his home, his bed. Everything that was his was also yours. “I only feel like myself when ‘m with you ‘n River. That’s it.”
“You plannin’ on ditchin’ the coven?” He murmured. “Amir won’t take that lightly.”
“‘M a big girl, Eddie. I can handle him.” Your open-mouthed kisses, placed right upon his neck, sent shivers down his spine. Of course you could handle yourself, but Amir was a completely different story. As far as Eddie was concerned, no one can — or should — try to defy him. It’ll only end badly for you if you’re reckless about this.
“You have to find somewhere to hide, a place where they won’t find you–”
“–I’ll stay with River. I… may have jumped the gun a little ‘n asked her if I could stay with her a while ago,” Your face flushed as you revealed this to Eddie, “She agreed ‘n said she’d be happy to have me.”
“What about us?” Eddie asked as his hands gripped the flesh on your thighs.
“I’ll come ‘n visit you, whenever I think it’s safe to,” Your eyes softened as you noticed the small frown that appeared on his face, “Mon amour, I can’t tell you where ‘m goin’.”
“You don’t trust me.” He flatly said.
“I do, it’s just…” You shook your head. “I have to be smart about this. I can’t be exposin’ myself so I can see you every night. That won’t end well.”
“So that’s it, huh?” Eddie’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought of only seeing you once a month, or perhaps less often, due to your circumstances. “You’re leavin’ me again?”
“Don’t be like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you reached for the nightgown that Eddie laid out for you, every night, in case you came back to him. “You sound like him when you try to convince me to stay.”
You compared him to Volt? …Ouch. Add insult to injury.
“I miss you, Canary. I’ve missed you since you joined the coven, ‘n I finally get to have you like I wanted you, after a year of barely gettin’ to hold you, ‘n now you’re gonna take off after we fucked,” Eddie sighed as he placed his hands behind him, “I feel like ‘m bein’ used.”
“No, no, Eddie, that’s not it,” You placed a hand on his cheek before your orange eyes met his yellow ones, “I didn’t mean to come off that way. I was plannin’ on leavin’ before tonight happened, I just–”
“–was goin’ to leave without sayin’ goodbye to your husband?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you as you finished getting dressed.
“You’re bein’ unfair. This isn’t about you,” You huffed, “or us. ‘M tryin’ to protect you ‘n Harper by disappearin’. That way, neither of you will be questioned about where I am or what ‘m doin’.”
“You think I’d tell the coven where you’re hidin’?” He breathlessly questioned you as you stood up, softly whining when his dick left your hole. “Merde, sweetheart, do you think I’d tell Amir?”
“I didn’t say that–”
“–you didn’t have to,” Eddie snatched his shirt from the lampshade on the nightstand near your shared bed as you turned towards the windows that faced the streets of Paris, “You thought it.”
“Get out of my head, Eddie.” You warned in a low voice before he softly chuckled.
“I don’t have to. I’ve shared a bed with you for how many years, Canary? I know what you’re thinkin’.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t trust me after Volt–”
“–Can you fuckin’ blame me?” You hissed at him, causing him to recoil ever-so-slightly. “How many times did you tattle to Volt right after Harper or I whispered in your ear about somethin’ that he didn’t need to know about?”
“That was back in New Orleans,” Eddie argued back, “this is different. Amir is different. ‘M different–”
“–are you, though?” Your question was like a knife through Eddie’s heart. “I know you’re lyin’ to me about somethin’. Not somethin’ small, either. It’s big, ‘n it weighs you down every time you look at me.”
“I haven’t lied–”
“–what happened on that night that you ‘n Amir got into that big fight?” You cut Eddie off, and he was sweating bullets as you glared at him. “‘Cause I asked him about what happened, ‘n he refused to tell me about it. Said it was ‘private business that shouldn’t grace a lady’s ear’. ‘Can’t believe that he thinks that I buy that bullshit.”
“It’s not somethin’ you need to worry about.” Eddie grabbed his pants and underwear as you scoffed.
“I worry anyways, Eddison. You know this.” You pinched the bridge of your nose before you threw your hands into the air in defeat. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I don’t want to argue with you. I’ll make the arrangements I need to so I can see you ‘n Harper as often as possible. Just… please keep this between the three of us, alright?”
You left before Eddie had the chance to say anything else.
Eddie held your secret close to his chest, not relenting when Amir or the rest of the coven pestered him about your location, or how your things suddenly disappeared from the coffin you had in the coven’s back room the night after you took off.
He wants to prove his loyalty and love for you — what better way to do so then through action and not petty lip service that he’s failed to deliver on before?
A security guard walks up to the pair of vampires, angrily shouting in French before Amir waves his hand at the man. The mortal in question freezes with an arm extended outwards, trying to shine a light on the two men before him, and Amir gladly plucks the flashlight from the man’s grip before he places his grey hat in the mortal’s empty hand.
“Merci.” Amir says to the man, knowing he can’t hear the words, before he illuminates their way.
Eddie feels the need to wave his hand in front of the man’s face, as proof that he is indeed frozen in time, before the light in Amir’s hand darts from painting to painting.
“This is my favorite walk in Paris.” He wanders ahead, not bothering to check if Eddie is behind him. “Boulevards of framed time and space. The oiled dead — still living, still fighting. When you’re the oldest suit in town, it is a comfort to be among your contemporaries.”
Amir turns around, suddenly, shining the light on his own handsome features as he backpedals towards another room while making sure that Eddie’s right behind him.
“Feels familiar.” Eddie comments, trying to show that he’s paying attention while nothing but his own free will forces his feet forward, one step at a time.
“Ah, weary of battles and glorious hunts,” Amir shrugs before he points the light ahead of him, “There is a street of fruit and flowers two doors down.”
Another security guard rushes up to him, but a single ‘Rest’ issued from Amir’s lips causes him to be in a similar predicament to his co-worker, who is right down the hall. Amir then takes the flashlight from the mortal’s hand before he hands it to Eddie, who can’t help but frown a bit.
What is Amir trying to do here, after not showing up at his door for weeks after his little stunt at the restaurant?
“It’s not the art. ‘M talkin’ about this… apology,” Eddie shrugs, “Flex your power one night, ‘n then follow it with grand grovelin’ the next. That’s vintage Volt.”
Eddie suddenly shines his light to the left of the security guard, revealing a ghastly image of Volt to him. Of course he’s here. He’s always there, lingering in the back of Eddie’s mind. It’d be romantic if he wasn’t… himself, or dead… or both.
“I don’t enjoy using my powers like that, Eddie.” Amir brushes past the guard and Volt, but Eddie hesitates, not yet following him.
“Seems like you did.”
“That was for coven discipline, for the situation,” Amir sternly explains, “A situation that is still unfolding, if you insist on keeping the location of your darling Canary a secret.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. Is it because he doesn’t know where you’re at, so it can’t stumble out of his mouth, or because he’s loyal to you, and he’d never betray you like that?
…He hates that he doesn’t have an immediate answer to that question.
“And, if I may address your behavior that night, you were wound rather tightly after Drysdale’s prodding.” Amir confidently walks forward as Eddie falls in line with him, ignoring how Volt lingers by his side.
“He disrespected my wife.” Eddie flatly says. “I’ve handled men like Drysdale plenty of times before. I don’t need you flyin’ in like vampire papa to protect us.”
“I did it poorly, but I did it for our protection.” Amir gestures for Eddie to climb the stairs before him after he begins to fly to the second floor.
“And, I don’t like seein’ Harper on that stage, bein’ treated like she’s a puppet.” Eddie airs out his grievances as he focuses on Amir’s form as it effortlessly rises through the air, ignoring all human understanding of physics.
“I treated her as a member of my coven.” Amir reminds him as he meets Eddie — and Volt, because who could forget that Volt’s there? — on the top of the stairs.
“I don’t like you paradin’ her around in that baby doll dress, either.” Eddie’s eyebrows knit together as he speaks. “And, if I may address your behavior, everythin’ you’ve done makes you look weak.”
“‘M not Volt, Eddie.” Amir looks wounded, like a child who’s just been scolded for the very first time in their life, as Eddie and Volt speak in perfect harmony and cadence to one another.
“Okay,” Then, Eddie says the next part by himself, “Who are you?”
The corner of Amir’s lip twitches before he turns and flicks his fingers at the large, towering door in front of him. It opens without any physical exertion from him, bathing Amir in a soft, warm light since the room before him, strangely enough, is lit, unlike the rest of the museum.
Inside, Eddie sees a room crowded with paintings on nearly every part of the wall, but Amir stops before one painting in particular. The name of the work, inscribed into the gold frame that surrounds the piece, is The Adoration of the Shepherds with a Donor.
Eddie stands between Volt and Amir, and the three stare at the piece in silence until someone feels the need to express themselves.
“The Adoration of the Shepherds with a Donor. Palma Vecchio. A contemporary of my maker,” Amir explains to Eddie, “also a fine painter, albeit one of lesser skill. In fact, the donor in the title was my maker, the canvas painted in my maker’s studio, and, in this case, the donation was…”
Amir steps towards the painting before he turns to face Eddie with a distant look on his face.
“What is the modern word for it?” Amir pauses before he shakes his head in strong disagreement. “In kind.”
Amir then raises his arm, directing everyone’s attention to the boy on the right side of the painting.
“This is Amadeo. He’s twenty years here. He was rescued from a brothel when he was fifteen, named…” He takes a shaky breath in, then out — an uncharacteristic move for the always confident coven leader that Eddie’s grown quite close to, “named Arun then, I think. I cannot be sure. The abuse in the brothel was such that he cannot be sure that’s what his… parents named him. Arun, the boy that was sent by his parents to work on a merchant boat in Delhi when, in actuality, they had sold him… into slavery to the ship’s captain.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Amir isn’t referring to some boy in a painting. This story, which Eddie is sure is an autobiography at this point, is painful and real.
“It’s all fragments. Being shackled on the boat. The brothel. My maker’s purchase. His renaming of me.” Amir whispers fractured pieces of his life into the air. “His reluctance to share the Dark Gift, knowing what it would do to his beloved Amadeo. I served him with all of my heart. Basked in his mercy, his worshipful mercy. Still… Amadeo had a skill, and if a friend wandered into town, I was, occasionally, donated.”
His fingers ghost the painting as he traces the outline of the boy in the painting in front of him.
“Meatier in the forearms, but then this was… seven years before I was stricken with illness, before I was turned and imbued with my powers.”
“And Amir?” Eddie gently asks.
“The name the coven in Rome gave me,” Amir’s gaze stays trained on the floor, “after they set fire to the studio. Set fire to my maker, then sent me to Paris, to reign over the coven abandoned by Keith. Keith, who begat Volt. Volt, who begat Eddie. On and on and on and on and on–”
“–Ha!” Volt, vibrating with an unusual amount of frustration and fear, yells at Amir who, obviously, cannot hear him.
But Eddie can, and he flinches at the noise before he regains his composure.
“Who am I, Eddie?” Amir’s eyes stare into Eddie’s soul as the former approaches the latter. “Am I my history that I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? I do not know anymore. No one has painted me in over four-hundred years–”
Amir’s head snaps to the side as he listens to someone — one of his dutiful coven members, Eddie assumes — speak to him telepathically. His brows furrow before he angrily curses under his breath.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
Amir’s out of the room before Eddie can question him, leaving Eddie alone with nothing but that painting, his interpretation of Volt, and his stormy, darkening thoughts.
~
“I look good.” I moved the dress a bit as I looked into the mirrors in Lucinda’s shop, admirin’ that yellow dress with the red ‘n blue flowers. “I look French.”
“No, it’s not right at the front, because your chest, it’s…” She trailed off as she pulled at the material in front of my tits.
“I don’t have much.” I frowned as I was forced to remember my forever arrested development because of Volt.
Fuck Volt. Seriously.
“Yes, you don’t have more than you did two years ago.” Lucinda pulled the tape measure from her shoulders, ‘n she wrapped it around my middle as I stuck my arms in the air. “Same shape, same height–”
“–The war.” A dumb explanation, really, but one that would have to suffice. “Shriveled some people, stunted others.”
“Harper,” My name out of her mouth sounded real good, “you have eyes like my windows.”
Uh-oh. This ain’t good. I gotta find some sort of half-truth, some excuse to keep what I am a secret. Not ‘cause I want to deceive her, but I don’t wanna scare her off.
“‘Been through some shit, like anybody else.” Shit feels like I’m simplifyin’ it, but it’s the truth. “Mom died. Dad ran off. Aunt didn’t want me. A fire. Adopted. One of ‘em was bad trouble, another couldn’t make a good decision, even if his life depended on it. Ran away. One dark thing after another.”
I hate the pity in Lucinda’s pretty eyes, but I know it’s warranted. I’ve been through a lot.
“Maybe I seek it out,” I said, “Maybe I chase after it.”
“Why?” She asked before she sat in a loveseat next to the set of mirrors.
“I don’t know.” I mumbled back. “But it’s somethin’ to think about, ‘cause even in-between the dark things… there’s somethin’ broken in me. A collision in me, like I wanna go bang.”
“Well, go bang,” Lucinda suggested before I looked at her with confusion in my eyes, “Go flag it out, or go cold. I mean, that’s fine, then you’ll be fine again. And then bang, and then okay, and then bang, and then… you just get used to it, like weather.”
I really, really like her; however, my attempts to keep the vampiric parts of me in check would soon go out the window when I saw a small trail of blood runnin’ down her leg. I couldn’t help it — my fangs began to poke out of my mouth, but I tried to keep myself in check by closin’ my mouth ‘n coverin’ my face with one of my hands.
“You got blood on your, uh…” My finger pointed at her leg, and her eyes went to that spot before she angrily cursed in French.
“Merde, I bled through!” She quickly stood up before she ran to the back. “Ah, don’t move too much — the pins, remember? God, I’m leaving a trail. I am Gretel!”
Thank God I didn’t bite Lucinda. I don’t wanna bite her, she’s a–
Harper!
Fuck. I met Amir’s eyes through the window, ‘n the anger in them, it reminded me of… nevermind.
I flew out of her dress shop, leavin’ the dress behind since I hadn't paid for it yet, ‘n I wasn’t surprised when Amir dragged me into the street by my arm as soon as I left the shop, despite my whines of pain.
“The show is a hit. The show is our cover.” He began to lecture me, but I’ve had enough of him. Enough of men like him.
“Tell me what it is again.” I rolled my eyes as passersbys glared at an older man who was belittlin’ the girl in his care.
“We humble ourselves–”
“–Tell me again how Chairemi licks the stage clean after every show, ‘n I’ll tell you a job I’d rather do.” I don’t care how angry or disrespectful I sound to Amir — ‘m tellin’ him how I feel, once and for all.
“You’re the only one with a child’s physique.” He argued.
“Audience doesn’t give a shit,” I said as he took me to a more private alleyway, where no eyes could see us interact, “Curt could play the part. They just wanna watch the bouncin’ ball–”
“–fifteen minutes a night to pretend.” He hissed at me, so I hissed right back at him.
“It’s a degradin’ fifteen minutes. I’d like to walk off-stage in the middle of it, but I don’t. I’d like to pounce on the audience members, but I don’t.”
“You left the sacrifice on the green room floor,” Here Amir goes again, exposin’ all my faults. “We honor the blood when we dispose of it.”
“You dispose of it so you won’t get caught. C’mon, now. I missed a chore, ‘n I made a friend,” His mouth opened to object, but I wouldn’t let him get a word in, “And before you tell me to make friends with the coven, I can’t, because they’ve turned inward too long ago and you know it, which is why you ran to Eddie ‘n Canary!”
I shouldn’t have been surprised when Amir grabbed my braids before he put his hand around my throat, pinnin’ me to the wall so I couldn’t speak or say anythin’, but I was. Maybe I thought that the abuse was just verbal. Maybe I’d like to hope that he would be less of a cruel master than Volt or Eddie, but I was wrong. ‘M always wrong. All of these men are the goddamn same, when push comes to shove.
“I’ve let you whine and have your say,” Amir spits out, “Most in my position would treat you no better than you treated your maker.”
…How does he know about Volt, about what Eddie and I–
Goddamnit. I knew I should’ve threw that fucker into the fire, like I did with Antoinette. Canary would’ve screamed ‘n cried, but she would’ve gotten over it. Her lady friend in Paris would have helped her get over him. That motherfucker has fucked us over once again.
“Let us agree that going forward, you will do more than the bare minimum on and off stage,” His hand on my throat tightened, so I could barely breathe, “And the friend you made? You will not see her again. Yes?”
Amir let go of me, ‘n I slid down the wall as he looked down on me.
“There’s rot on the green room floor. See to it.”
Oh, I’ll see to it, alright. Right after I take care of the fuckin’ snitch in my home.
I… I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Eddie.
~
Amir watches Harper storm off, presumably towards Eddie’s apartment and not the theater, but that’s the last thing on his mind as he senses someone else’s presence nearby.
His hand extends once more, and he catches Drysdale’s neck with his fingers before he slams the man into the wall.
“Too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius,” Amir sneers, “Know your role, thesp, or join your maker in oblivion.”
He drops the vampire onto the ground, and Drysdale groans in pain before Amir angrily walks off. It isn’t just Drysdale or Harper he has to worry about. There is a serious discipline problem within the coven that he needs to address… rather quickly, he might add.
~
A small fire spreads across photo after photo as Eddie’s gaze moves down the clothes line. He doesn’t care for Volt’s pitiful looks as the man in question sits at your writing desk, as another sore reminder that the two of you haven’t talked since the night you left his apartment in a hurry after your little… fight?
It didn’t feel like a fight, though. Eddie fought with Volt, threw shit around that godforsaken house, and exchanged words that he doesn’t ever want to repeat again. He refused to do that with you, so he usually backed down when you got angry with him.
This, however, always seemed to infuriate you more. Eddie’s now realizing, as he stares at a photo of your face, that you probably take his silence or redirection during those moments as callous or cold or uncaring when it’s actually the opposite.
He cares so goddamn much, and that’s probably what’s gotten him into this situation. If Eddie was just honest with you about how he was the one to hurt you that night after Harper left — because it truly wasn’t Volt, for once — or how he hurt Harper when the two of them killed Volt, or how Amir knows that he killed Volt.
“You can’t think of it as a waste of time, Eddie.” Volt’s commentary pulls Eddie from his thoughts as he moves to the next clothes line, where he burns every photo except the ones of you and Harper. “What’s two years? I pretended to be an actor for two years. And your dalliance with that manipulative gremlin? Well… what is vampire life but poor decisions, stacked next to better ones?”
Volt brings the cigarette in-between his index and pointer fingers to his lips before the door to Eddie’s apartment slams open.
“Eddie!”
“Speaking of poor decisions…” Volt trails off, shaking his head as Harper stomps into the room with pure malice in her gaze.
“Eddie!” Harper throws her arm out to the side as she locks eyes with Eddie. “Amir knows all about Volt. How long’s he known? Does Canary know?”
“The whole time,” Eddie admits, feeling a bit of relief that at least one of his secrets is out in the open, “‘n your mother doesn’t need to know about this–”
“–What?!?”
“Read our minds on our first night at the theater.”
“But you colored it in for him, painted a pretty picture?” Harper balls her extended hand into a fist, squeezing her fingers together to relieve some of the anger coursing through her body. “Who did the poisonin’, who did the throat cuttin’–”
“–you can trust Amir.”
Harper looks astounded by Eddie’s words.
“What about that ‘You ‘n me’ bullshit that you tried to sell to Canary when we were ridin’ into Paris? You throw that out the window when you told Amir about what we did?” She wears a wicked grin when Eddie’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Do you think I was stupid enough to fall asleep when you were tryin’ to say somethin’ to her? You did some good sweet-talkin’ to my mama, but I know better when it comes to you–”
“–You were unhappy in New Orleans, unhappy in the vampire homeland, unhappy when we first came to Paris.” Eddie points out as Harper folds her arms and wanders around the space, looking at a few of the photos that have been spared from Eddie’s fiery gaze. “‘N here comes the coven, ‘n then you’re beamin’ like the whole world went technicolor.”
“Don’t make this about me when we’re talkin’ about you,” She grumbles, “What the fuck’s gone on without me here? Where’s my mother? I know she left with you that night, ‘n she hasn’t been back to see me since.”
“I didn’t want to wreck that for you and this whole time–” Eddie starts, but Harper’s pissed and past the point of listening to him talk without adding in some objections of her own.
“–chasin’ it! Chasin’! You gotta be chasin’ it–!”
“–he hasn’t betrayed our trust or told our secret.” Still, Eddie tries to make her see the world through his eyes.
“Except, he just threatened me with it!”
Her scream ends their back-and-forth, and the room is plunged into an uncomfortable, sticky, permeating silence that traps Eddie and Harper in that space.
And then Eddie opens his mouth.
“Doesn’t sound like him.”
“Doesn’t sound like him?!?” Harper pulls back, reeling from what Eddie’s just said. “Oh, I forgot! Love makes you stupid! ‘Makes you fickle ‘n weak ‘n blind. Let me guess, he’s your companion finally? Does he fill in the gapin’ hole in your heart that Volt left?”
Eddie doesn’t answer as Harper continues to let him have it. Maybe he stays silent because he thinks he deserves it.
“Well, good for fuckin’ you!” She grabs one end of the clothes line before she throws it onto the ground, carelessly stomping on the pictures as she speaks to Eddie. “You are unbelievable! You’re a liar, a traitor, a son of a fuckin’ bitch that should’ve met the fire a long time ago. Tell me where my mother is so I can tell her what a piece of fuckin’ work you are, ‘n then I can watch her beat your ass for pickin’ some Parisian motherfucker over your own daughter!”
Harper pants, tired from her outburst, as she waits for Eddie to respond, but the knowledge she seeks doesn’t come from him. It can’t, and Eddie can practically see the gears turning in her head as she dryly laughs.
“You don’t know,” She comes to that conclusion all on her own, “I thought you were the one who snuck her away, but you’re just as clueless as the rest of us… Fuck.”
“Harper–”
“–if you think there’s a chance that she picks you over me, then you got a fuckin’ storm headed your way, Eddison.” Harper growls before she turns on her heel, exiting the apartment with destruction left in her wake.
“Ah,” Volt sighs as Eddie’s jaw sets, “the wilderness that is our daughter.”
~
“A little to the left, lapinou.” River’s soft instructions cause you to move, carefully adjusting your body on the pedestal as she peers at you over her canvas stand, which feels quite imposing when compared to the beauty behind it.
“Must you continue to torture me?” You jest, fixing your hair before she tuts at you.
“Not yet. I haven’t finished your hair,” A soft blush coats her cheeks as her brush collects some paint, perfectly matched to the color of your hair, on the palette in her left hand, “I spent far too much time perfecting your face. There’s a lot of beauty there, and I felt compelled to capture it in exquisite detail.”
You giggle, placing a hand over your face as your gaze moves elsewhere. You’ve spent plenty of time in River’s private studio, since you’ve been hiding from the coven for… days? Weeks? Months? You’ve lost track of time, but, to be fair, you haven’t been trying to count when you’ve been thriving.
After spending months doing grunt work for Chairemi and Amir, reshaping old plays into something new (and, perhaps, a work that’s a little more tame, according to your tastes), you were desperate to work on your own projects. You were itching to work on your novel, the lovechild of hours upon hours of hard work, where you put your horrific lived experiences into words that were, hopefully, entertaining to a wider audience. That’s why you joined the coven, in part — the other part was to ensure that your daughter remained in good graces with the coven and its… eccentric leader.
Unfortunately, what you failed to take into account was that the coven would drag you into this hunt or that performance or any other number of things that left you with less time for your writing than you had before you became a part of a coven. Not to mention that you missed seeing your family, since Amir had insisted that you, at least, tried to make friends with the coven.
You didn’t. They weren’t really interested in anything beyond your appearance, and when you tried to dig deeper, you found that the majority of their personalities were skin-deep. Chairemi was a notable exception, but she was so far up Amir’s ass that you didn’t want to engage with her more than you had to. Plus, her shoving her work upon your shoulders so she could write a nightly humiliation ritual for your daughter rubbed you the wrong way.
Ah, yes, you had almost allowed yourself to forget about that fucking play. Seeing one performance of that was enough for you. Your ranting and raving about what you saw was reserved for a party of one — River, who Amir allowed you to see once or twice a week when you first joined the coven — and she gave you an excellent suggestion.
“Don’t.”
“What do you mean, don’t?” You shook your head at her. “What if Amir–”
“–a sheep in wolf’s clothing. I know from experience,” She shrugged, “Don’t watch the play if you don’t want to. Don’t spend time with the coven if you don’t like them.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy,” Her hand hovered above yours, “You only have one life to live, Canary. It’s a life longer than what most mortals get, but that doesn’t mean you should spend it living for men who would throw you away at a moment’s notice.”
You thought she was talking about Amir. Tonight’s events, however, would prove that assumption wrong.
“You didn’t have to redecorate for me.” Your eyes scan the room you’re in, noticing the small changes that River’s made to her space since you started living here permanently. There was the desk with your typewriter on it as a prominent piece in the room, alongside a queen-sized bed that shared plenty of good memories for you and for River. Then, there was the vase of flowers that she changed out every week because she knew you liked them, plus she picked out an assortment of dresses for you to wear, if only for the selfish purpose of using you in them as a model for her paintings. “‘M the one botherin’ you by stayin’–”
“–I’ve been looking for an excuse to redecorate, and what better excuse than a pretty woman?” Her flirting is so easy and natural, like she’s not trying to butter you up or apologize through hollow compliments that don’t actually solve any of your issues.
“I hope ‘m not causin’ any trouble for you.” You murmur, wearing a frown as River sets her palette and brush onto her stool before she strolls towards you.
“That should be the last thing on your mind, honey.” Her hand, covered in various shades of pink and purple to match the flowers you hold in your hand, reaches out to cup your face. “Something else is, though.”
“Am I that obvious?” You joke. “‘M worried about what the publishers will say about my work. I know it’s somethin’ that every author deals with, but my book isn’t just a collection of typed words on some paper. They’re a part of me — they reflect my experiences, the shit I’ve lived through, ‘n the people I’ve met that have influenced me, both good ‘n bad. ‘M scared that they’ll hate it, and, as a result, they’ll hate me.”
“No one will hate you, Canary. I read your work, and I loved it,” River’s thumb drags across your cheek, painting your skin with a soft pink hue, “Eddie loved it, too.”
“Eddie says whatever he thinks will please me.” You grumble as your mind goes back to the last night that you spent in his bed.
You didn’t want to argue with him, but something about his tone or words provoked a deep flame within your soul. How dare he accuse you of abandoning and using him when he spent most of his nights with Amir? You tried your damndest to see Eddie more often, but you were brushed off in favor of another. Again.
You played these games before, and it didn’t end well the first time, so you took your chess piece off the board. Fine. Eddie wants to find another to replace the hole in his heart that Volt once occupied? Then you’ll find someone who will help heal your heart and make you believe that someone can love you purely, without expecting you to be someone else or making you into a goddess when you feel like you’ve earned your spot right next to the devil for every sin you’ve committed as a vampire.
Petty? Sure, but you’re getting tired of always being the better person in situations like this. You’ll probably snap back into old habits because that’s who you are, even though you wish to kill off your caring heart when it comes to people who have wronged you. You can’t, though. Not towards Eddie, at least.
God, you’re such a glutton for punishment.
“A dog, but a loyal one,” River smiles when her comment brings a smile to your lips, “You’ve been carrying a heavy weight on your shoulders since you left his side.”
“I don’t know what it is about him, but ‘m drawn to him. It’s like our destinies are intertwined, no matter what we do or say. There’s no vampiric bond to explain what we have, ‘cause it started long before we met Volt,” You try to explain the mess that exists between you and your husband, “I can’t give Eddie up. I can’t hate him, even though I’d like to, at times. He makes the stupidest decisions that he thinks will keep us safe, ‘n he can’t tell me the truth to save his life, ‘n he’s a stubborn ass at the worst of times, but he’s real ‘n he’s safe ‘n he’s mine.”
“You two have been through a lot, haven’t you?” River pauses, allowing you to answer with a small nod. “I can tell that he loves you more than anything or anyone else in the world. He’d move heaven and Earth to get to you, and I don’t doubt that he’d go after anyone who wronged you.”
“I love Eddie so much,” Bloody tears burn your eyes as River pecks the top of your head with her lips, “I should apologize to him. I didn’t mean to ignore him for so long, ‘n I think it’s about time that I–”
“–Canary Watts!”
“Harper?” Your head snaps towards the entrance of River’s studio, where Harper stands with a mix of agitation and intrigue on her face. “You found me.”
“You didn’t make it easy,” She pouts before her eyes flit to River, “you must be her.”
“Ah,” River wears a gracious smile as she approaches Harper with an extended hand, “You must be the Harper I’ve heard such good things about–”
“–not interested.” Harper brushes right past River, who hums and shrugs her shoulders while she watches Harper pull you into a strong hug. “I need to talk to my mother. Alone.”
“The space is yours.” River closes the door behind her, leaving you and Harper alone.
“Don’t you ever leave me alone again, ya hear me?” Her voice threatens to break as you wrap your arms around your daughter, melting into the warm affection that seems to be reserved for you and only you. “A lot of bullshit has gone down since you — we — left Eddie by himself in that apartment.”
“What do you mean?” You frown before your hands find the ends of her braids, and you suddenly realize that she’s still in that dress that you know Harper hates. “Amir’s still makin’ you wear this ugly thing?”
“You heard him. I have to keep wearin’ it ‘til I find my passion for Lulu on-stage,” She rolls her eyes, “but this ain’t about him. Well, it ain’t all about Amir.”
“Amir and Eddie?” Your eyebrows raise when she nods. “Go on.”
“I was…” A red blush coats Harper’s cheeks before she shakes her head. “Out, not doin’ my chores, ‘n Amir came to scold me ‘n bring me back to the coven. We got into it for a bit, ‘n he put his hand around my throat–”
“–I beg your fuckin’ pardon?” Immediately, you see red. “Where is he?”
“Not important,” Harper keeps you on-track, pinning you down with her hands on your shoulders as you digits work to undo the braids that trap her red locks into the same hair style, night after night, “he told me that he knew what we did to Volt. Amir must’ve read our minds the moment we entered the theater. That’s not even the worse part, Mama. Eddie filled in the details for him.”
“...You’re jokin’.” No words can accurately describe the intense heartbreak that you feel at the moment. “Baby, please tell me it ain’t true. Tell me he didn’t–”
“–well, he did, ‘n I know you’re not surprised.” Harper spits out. “I talked to him about it, ‘n it ended in a fight. It always does, with me ‘n him.”
“What’d he say to you?”
“Eddie said that Amir would never do that to me, that it doesn’t sound like him.” Harper snorts when you angrily huff at her words. “Utter horseshit, I know. I don’t get why we aren’t enough for him. We won’t ever be enough for him.”
“I know,” You swallow the lump that’s appeared in your throat, “I’ve known that for a long time.”
“There’s somethin’ else you should know, too,” Harper’s voice drops to a near whisper as she looks at you with tears in her eyes, “about the night Volt died. I didn’t… He didn’t… I blamed myself for a long time, but it wasn’t my fault. I thought I deserved to be hurt for failin’ you.”
“Harper,” Your lips flatten into a straight line, “what are you tryin’ to tell me?”
“Eddie’s hurt me, Mama.” Harper burst into tears. “Not just my heart ‘n my emotions. My body, too — he put a hand ‘round my fuckin’ neck ‘n he told me not to burn Volt.”
~
Eddie expects some sort of big bang. A collision of catastrophic proportions. A slamming door, an argument to end every argument that you’ve had before this one. This is it — the reckoning has come for him, once and for all.
Except it’s not that. Eddie’s nervous pacing is interrupted by the front door to his apartment opening, then softly closing. As if you didn’t want him to hear you coming in. You don’t enter the bedroom right away, either — a hesitation that you wouldn’t have displayed months, years, or a lifetime ago. You’re waiting for a movement on his part, for him to finally meet you halfway after years of subtly forcing you, through his words or actions, to meet him on his side of the world.
Old habits die hard, though. You’re still the one to meet him in his domain, after all of these years and after all of this bullshit.
Suddenly, you appear in front of the door. You lack the vigor and resentment that your daughter had when she stomped through this very place and tore down his photos — photos that he hasn’t put back up, since he’s been so worked up about this very moment.
You say nothing as Eddie stops moving, taking a deep breath in, then out before he meets your unsteady gaze.
Tears. Bloody, messy tears have left streaks of red on your face. Your hair is messy from the wind, your clothes disheveled from when you anxiously pulled on the sleeves of your dress — a bad habit that Eddie knew you had, and he was so used to comforting your mind with a hand on top of one of your own when you would get so worked up about one thing or another.
He can’t comfort you, though. Not when he knows that he’s the reason behind your distress.
“Canary–”
“‘–If you were the last vampire on Earth, it would be enough,’” Your voice breaks with every word out of your mouth, “that was a lie, wasn’t it, my love? You told me such sweet things when I had given up on the world, ‘n I believed you. I don’t know if that makes me a fool, or you, a genius.”
“I didn’t lie–”
“–Me ‘n you,” You point to yourself, then Eddie, “you ‘n me. That’s what you said when we came to Paris. That’s never gonna be real, is it? You have, once again, picked another over me.”
Eddie wishes you were mad. He wishes you were stomping your feet, cursing at him, making him feel the anger coursing through your veins. That very emotion would make the words you just said hit differently. You’d be upset, like a wife finding out that her husband broke their vows, and a screaming match would ensue.
That anger, however, seems to be gone. Perhaps it evaporated as your mind aged, but your body didn’t. You couldn’t possibly get upset at every bit of trauma that you had gone through, purely because there was too much for you to be upset with. It never seemed to end when you all were stuck in that house with Volt. Eddie wears scars from him, too.
The scars you’re showing now, to Eddie’s horror, aren’t from your maker. It’s a classic case of death by a thousand tiny little cuts as your heart bleeds out in front of him because of him.
“You have, once again, picked another over me.”
You don’t sound sad. You’ve just accepted that this is your fate. You will always be the one left behind, the one forced to shoulder his burdens, the one who has to accept the consequences of his actions while he gets to go live his life however he wants.
You know this, too. That’s why your body shudders as you slap a hand over your mouth, trying to contain the hopelessness that’s invaded your body. It’s useless, though. You wear your heart on your shoulder, and all of your emotions come to the surface eventually. It’s one of the things that Eddie loves about you, but only when those emotions are positive.
Eddie flinches when you let out an agonizing wail before your hand grips the doorframe, holding your stomach like you’ve been fatally wounded. The sound shatters his heart and eardrums in one go while your body fails you, slowly sliding to the floor before you collapse into a pile of clothes and limbs. Your head leans against the doorframe as your hands wrap around your stomach, desperate to soothe yourself and your unborn child.
“Despite what you might think,” Volt murmurs, standing next to Eddie as you sob uncontrollably in front of them, “I didn’t — don’t — like seeing her like this. She thinks she was born broken, but that simply isn’t the truth. I broke her. …We broke her.”
Eddie looks over to Volt, expecting to see some hint of self-satisfaction on the man’s face, but there is none; however, a single bloody tear runs down his face as Volt refuses to look away from you.
“I loved Canary. I thought I knew what was best, but I pushed her away from me. I became my Maker, the man I despised with all of my heart,” Volt wipes the tear with his sleeve before he continues on, “Eddie, you and I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not be worthy of her love. She is the North Star, the sun, the moon, the stars. The guiding light, the moral compass we didn’t deserve. If you lose her, you’ll lose everything because she is everything.”
“Do you think that I don’t know that?!” Eddie snaps, temporarily forgetting that you were in the room before you bitterly laugh at his outburst.
“Even now, his ghost taunts us. I’ve always known when he was plaguin’ you, Eddie.” You sniffle softly before more tears run down your face. “What’s he sayin’ to you now?”
“I–” Eddie pauses, looking to Volt, of all people, for guidance.
“–this isn’t between the three of us anymore. This has spiraled beyond my reach, past what even I can help you with.” Volt walks towards you before he places a hand on your head, trying to comfort you even though he has no physical form. “Sois fort, petit agneau. Le pire est encore devant toi.”
Volt disappears, leaving Eddie to clean up his own mess.
“He’s usually tauntin’ me about somethin’ I did or said,” Eddie admits, not able to look at your shivering form as guilt wraps around his body since he knows he caused you to be like this, “it’s not pleasant.”
“He’s like that with me, too.” You hiccup before you wipe some spare tears away with the palm of your hand. “Some things never change.”
Dead silence.
“I love you, sweetheart–”
“–don’t. Please don’t act like everything’s fine when it’s not.” You murmur. “You didn’t believe our daughter when she told you that your lover choked her out. You told Amir that you ‘n your daughter killed Volt. You let him torture Harper, night after night, on that stage, where he makes her prance around like a bird, in a dress made for a doll–”
“–I told Amir I didn’t like what he was doing to her,” Eddie interjects, “...tonight. I told him tonight–”
“–and that’s not the worst part,” Your bottom lip quivers as you speak, “I have spent the last seven years lovin’ a man that put his hands on my baby girl. …Fuck you for hidin’ that from me. Fuck you for takin’ advantage of me, ‘n don’t you dare say you didn’t, ‘cause you did, ‘n you know you did.”
“Mon ange–”
“–and after all of that shit,” You blow a piece of unruly hair out of your eyes, which are red from hours of crying, “I still love you, ‘n that tears me apart. I love a man who wrapped his hand around my daughter’s throat. I love someone who would pick a two-year fling over his own family, a family that he made–”
“–you needed Harper,” Eddie slowly walks towards you, feeling brave enough to face you, “‘n I needed you.”
“When did I ask you to turn some poor little girl into a doll for me to dress up ‘n play with?!?” You spit at him, causing Eddie to stop in his tracks before you burst into tears once more. “I didn’t ask you for her. I didn’t want her. I just wanted someone who loved me as I was–”
“–She does–”
“–Prissy did, too, but you killed her.” You point out. “You took everythin’ ‘n everyone I loved away from me, ‘n you stuck a broken girl in my arms ‘n expected it to fix me. …It didn’t. It just pushed away the pain ‘n resentment I felt towards you ‘n Volt, but it eventually resurfaced. It always does.”
Eddie never thought about it like that. He didn’t stop to consider what you would think when he brought Harper to Volt before he begged the man to turn her.
You’re right, like always. She didn’t fix anything. She didn’t fix your marriage, your heart, your relationship with Volt… she was just a shitty bandage over your bleeding heart.
“But I loved her with all of my heart,” You get choked up as you talk about Harper, “‘n I still do. I never thought about bein’ a mother ‘til I fell in love with you. I had so many siblings, so kids never interested me ‘til I thought about havin’ some of our own… I would’ve been such a good mother, Eddie, if things had been different–”
“–you are a good mother,” Eddie argues, leaning against the opposite part of the doorway so you know he’s close, but not close enough to convince you to do anything that you don’t want to, “Harper loves you. She’d go to war for you. Hell, she figured out where you were, after weeks of silence from you, ‘cause she’s pissed at me.”
“Yeah,” You chuckle a bit, “I guess you’re right.”
“I haven’t been the husband you need or deserve, mon ange.” Eddie lets his back slide against the wall until he’s on the floor too, and he offers you a pained smile before he holds his hands out to you, palms-up. “You deserve someone who’s gonna protect your heart ‘n take care of you like I never could. You deserve someone who is as selfless ‘n as kind as you are. You deserve someone who makes you feel like the saint of a woman that you are, every goddamn day of your life.”
“But I don’t want someone who’s perfect or better for me,” You sigh, taking heaving breaths as you try to fight the bloody river that flows from your eyes, “All I ever wanted was you. I didn’t want you ‘cause you were like a man from one of my favorite romance novels — God knows that you’re not. You smoke like a chimney, you drink a little too much for my likin’, ‘n you can be a bit mean-spirited at times.”
“Merde, pretty girl, tell me how you really feel.” Eddie jokes, causing you to softly snort.
“‘M goin’ somewhere with this, be patient,” Your playful lecturing brings a genuine smile to his lips, “Eddie, those things don’t really matter to me, ‘n even if they did, you somehow managed to make them good things. You never blow any smoke in my face, you can’t stop kissin’ me ‘n tellin’ me how much you love me when you’re drunk, ‘n you always make sure that you’re bein’ respectful when you talk to me, even when you’re upset.”
You place your shaky hands into his.
“Eddie, I fell in love with you ‘cause you’re a good man. Sometimes, you make rash decisions ‘n you act with your heart instead of your mind, but you’ve never been malicious on purpose. You lie ‘n cheat ‘n kill to protect your daughters ‘n your wife. You infuriate me with your terrible decision-makin’, but I love you anyway. There are things you’ve done that I will never forgive you for, but that doesn’t push me away from you, even though it should.”
“You don’t have to love me,” Eddie intertwines his fingers with yours, “I don’t want you to force yourself to love me ‘cause we have history.”
“I don’t have to force myself. It’s natural. I love you with every breath I take.” You giggle as you stare at his hands, “Merde, we are fucked up, aren’t we?”
“We’d be boring if we were normal,” He shoots back before you grin at him, “I owe you an apology–”
“–Eddie, honey, save the apology. …I’ve spent a lot of time thinkin’ about what would finally push me away from you. I… I have to draw the line somewhere,” You squeeze Eddie’s hands, “but I won’t stop caring about you. I won’t stop bein’ someone you can count on, I just… can’t be with you anymore. Not after all of this.”
“If that’s what you want,” His heart sinks to the floor, but he’s past the point of earning your grace. Eddie’s fucked up big time — losing you, as painful as it is, is his penance, “I love you, Canary. I’ll always love you, even from afar.”
“No fightin’, no tryin’ to convince me to stay…” You click your tongue, smiling as you shake your head. “I was wrong about you. You have changed.”
“You have, too. You’re gentler, quieter…” happier is the word Eddie wants to add on, but he chooses not to. “More confident. I like what she’s brought out in you.”
“Thank you, my love.” You bite your tongue, realizing your error. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that after I–”
“–no, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie reassures you, “Call me whatever you’d like.”
“...You’re okay with me leavin’?” Your eyes go to the skirt of your dress. “If you want me to stay–”
“–you’re my wife, not my prisoner,” He brings your hands to his lips — an instinctual habit that brings him pause until you nod at him, telling Eddie that it’s okay for him to kiss each of your fingers individually, “just come around ‘n visit every once in a while, okay? I’ve missed seein’ you.”
“Even if we’re not…?”
“Nothin’ will stop me from caring about you.” Eddie murmurs before he helps you to your feet. “That dress looks nice on you.”
“Oh, this? River wanted to paint me, so she bought me a few dresses I could wear while she…” Your face flushes as you trail off. “Thank you. I… I think I should go.”
“Do you want me to walk you out?”
“No, ‘m fine.” You let go of Eddie’s hands, only to wrap your arms around him before you whisper in his ear. “Give me a few years, Eddie. I need some time to think about how I want us to move forward.”
“Take all the time in the world,” Eddie tells a half-lie before he kisses your cheek, “Good night, Canary. Stay safe. If you need anythin’–”
“–I know where to find you.” You wink at him before you backpedal towards the door. “G’night, Eddie.”
The door firmly shuts behind you, and only when Eddie is sure that you’re out of earshot, he breaks down.
“Fuck!” Eddie can’t help it — the vase in the foyer is all too-tempting, and it hits the wall with a satisfying crashing sound that helps relieve the frustration inside of him.
He shouldn’t have let you go. You didn’t need to go. He could’ve fixed this if he said the right thing, or did something else instead of letting you waltz your way right out of his life.
Maybe you would’ve stayed, then. Or, you would’ve left in a rush, considerably more upset than you were to begin with.
Eddie did the right thing… but why does he feel terrible about it?
“That went better than expected–”
“–shut up.” Eddie growls at Volt, who steps around the shards of the broken glass vase.
“Canary needed to leave–”
“–you’re the one who wanted her to stay–”
“–only so you’d stay.” Volt shrugs. “I did what I had to.”
“Fuck you.” Eddie spits out, causing Volt to gasp dramatically as he clutches his chest.
“You’re in a foul mood.”
“You put me in a foul mood.”
“Wow, were you always this cranky, or is this a new development from your time in Paris with Amir?” Volt taunts as Eddie brushes past him to rehang the clothes line that Harper messed up earlier.
“Stop.” Eddie says with a finality that does make Volt shut his mouth… for about five seconds.
“You should go on a hunt. It’ll help clear your mind.” Volt suggests.
“Tomorrow. Not tonight, I…” Eddie pauses. “Got some thinkin’ to do.”
“Can I come along?”
Eddie freezes when he locks eyes with the only picture of Amir within his collection of photos, hanging right above the coffin that you and Eddie once shared.
“Sure.”
~
“What are we hunting for, mon chéri?” Volt asks with an unexpected amount of excitement, as Eddie has never been one to happily accept an invitation for a hunt.
“What are we hungry for, Volt?” Eddie flips the question back onto the spectre that haunts his mind as he holds onto the base of the umbrella tightly.
Rain smacks the pavement beneath his feet with force, but the death grip Eddie has on the umbrella will prevent him from getting soaked.
I can’t do this… can I?
He knows why he led Volt to this park. This is about ending whatever the fuck is happening in his mind while he fixes the only relationship that he has some amount of control over… but his mind still wanders back to you. It always does.
You loved rainy days. While others might be upset that their outdoor plans were ruined, you took it as an opportunity to indulge in indoor hobbies that you often didn’t have time for — reading, writing, and a bit of sewing, if you were feeling adventurous. You weren’t very good at that last one, but Eddie always thought you were cute when you pouted after the stitches didn’t turn out right.
Eddie’s favorite part of those storm nights, however, was when he’d find you curled up by a window, fast asleep and peacefully dreaming. Eddie never dared to disturb you since you looked so perfect as you were, but he always drew the curtain shut, so you weren’t burned by the sunlight, before he threw a large, warm blanket over your body. You always smiled when he did so, and you would even laugh in your sleep when he just had to kiss your cheek because you looked too irresistible.
…It’s been less than a day, and he’s going mad with desire and longing for you. How the fuck is he supposed to last a few years like this?
“The pick of the city.” Volt’s answer redirects Eddie’s attention to him. “Perhaps a couple — an illicit couple, out for a cheat? We could drain them in heat. Let their children answer a knock at the door. A pale-faced policeman, a ride to the morgue.”
“Yeah, all that.” Eddie’s still in another world as he gestures for Volt to sit on a nearby park bench. “Have a seat.”
“Hunt later?” Volt’s eyes shine with hope, which makes Eddie feel a little bad for lying to him.
“Yeah, hunt later.”
They’re not hunting later.
Eddie holds the umbrella over both of their heads as they take a seat on that very bench.
“You summoned him?” Volt whispers as Eddie’s eyes go to the man approaching the two of them in the distance.
Not just any man, though. One that they both know. Intimately.
“I did.” Eddie quickly answers.
“You’re going to break it off with him, aren’t you?” Volt confidently smiles as Eddie nods in pretend agreement. “Well, it had to happen. Doomed, always doomed. I’m happy you tried with someone else–”
“–no, you’re not.” Eddie cuts him off before Volt shrugs.
“That’s what you wanted me to say.” He argues.
“And you say what I want you to say now?”
“Do I?” Volt leans closer, and Eddie can almost taste the aftershave oil that Volt used to wear religiously.
He’s not here.
“Say apple.”
“Apple.” Volt responds, unsurprisingly.
“In French.” Eddie challenges.
“...La pomme.” Volt’s eyes go down to Eddie’s lips before he meets his lover’s gaze once more. “There isn’t going to be a hunt, is there?”
“No.” Eddie quietly answers.
“...Why this suit?” Volt gestures to the tan suit that he wore on the night you and Eddie first met him, in a bar that is little more than ash and distant, forgotten memories.
“It’s my favorite on you.”
“Really?” Volt’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”
Eddie, suddenly, pulls down the umbrella. His clothes and face are quickly dampened by the rainfall, but that’s not his main concern at the moment. He can’t tear his eyes away from Volt, who seemingly melts away in the rain, slowly fading into the park’s background.
“Well, it’s quite nice, I suppose. Herringbone wool, notched collar.” Volt adjusts his clothes, like he has no idea what is happening. “You might not know this, but I had the tailor inscribe your initials, alongside Canary’s, on the back side of the ticket pocket.”
Volt places a hand over that very pocket, the one that lies over his heart.
“Right here,” He murmurs before he fades into nothingness, “so your names would always cradle…”
And he’s gone. Not temporarily gone. Permanently gone. Perhaps Eddie’s finally let go of Volt, being encouraged to do so after you let go of him.
It doesn’t matter, as Eddie has no time to recover before Amir takes Volt’s place on the park bench.
“You summoned me.”
“I felt your panic.” Eddie folds his arms over his chest as Amir looks off to the side.
“The center isn’t holding. Mutiny is brewing. Everyone is doing what they want, when they want.”
“Everyone but you.” Eddie says, thinking of how you and Harper are off doing what you want, when you want, at this very moment.
“I’m not sure I can keep obedience any longer.” Amir admits. “Drysdale wants–”
“–your job.” Eddie interrupts.
“Others will follow him. You should… think of leaving.”
“No.” Eddie immediately turns him down. If you’re staying in Paris, then so is he. He won’t go where you can’t find him. “‘M stayin’ in Paris, with you, ‘n everyone’s gonna be happy.”
“Eddie–”
“–’m not an artist, ‘n I don’t know too much about the theater,” Eddie’s honesty causes Amir to place a hand over his, “but I used to be real good at runnin’ things. …’m a little wet.”
That last statement is a test for Amir. Eddie’s life is rapidly spiraling out of control — he has no agency or choice or control over your life or Harper’s, but he does have control over what he does with Amir, and that has to be his grounding force… for now.
As Eddie expects, Amir grabs the umbrella from him before he opens it up, hiding them both from the rainfall.
“Drysdale wants to be coven leader.” Eddie explains. “Give him the job. Watch him fail–”
“–Never–”
“–Listen to me.”
“I can’t. I will not.” Amir shuts Eddie down.
“Fine. Then, throw him a bone, at least. Let him feel like he’s your… heir apparent, or whatever the fuck you call it,” Eddie says, “He’ll overplay his hand, ‘n everyone will see him for what he is. When they know they don’t have an alternative, they’ll beg for you back. That’s when you can decide if you want it back, or if you want somethin’ else.”
Eddie offers Amir a cigarette, but to his surprise, Amir lights it before he hands it back to Eddie.
“I want you,” Amir warmly confesses, “I want you more than anything in the world.”
God, does it feel good to have someone say that to him. The people who once wanted Eddie are either dead or missing. He needs to be needed by someone, anyone — and Amir will do just fine.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, Maître.” Amir weakly answers Eddie’s call, and the two spend the rest of the night on that very park bench, talking the night away.
~
Drysdale, Memoria, and Chance watch as Eddie holds the door to his apartment building open for some mysterious being that is invisible to their eyes.
“Third floor balcony.” Chance glares at the exact apartment that Eddie, presumably, just exited.
“Keep a watch.” Drysdale announces to his companions before he charges ahead.
“Eyes, ears, and minds.” Memoria seems to agree as she and Chance take off to the left and right respectively, leaving Drysdale to charge ahead. He checks to make sure no mortals are around before he flies up to the third-floor balcony, where the door that leads inside of the apartment has been left open, for one reason or another.
Pulling a curtain back with a clawed hand, Drysdale enters the space with some sense of caution, still a little afraid of being caught after his little… debacle in the restaurant.
He won’t be embarrassed like that any more.
Drysdale stalks through the apartment, smiling with brief amusement as he eyes the burnt crisps of photos that once existed, alongside those that remain untouched on the clothes lines that they hang upon.
Odd. He never thought that Eddie’s space would look like this. Messy didn’t seem to be his… thing. The man seemed well-kept to Drysdale, but perhaps that was because of your influence.
Ah, yes, you. The reason he’s here. In this godforsaken apartment, there should be something about–
There. Near the smaller of the two beds in the room. A pile of diaries. Yours, perhaps? You were a writer — a well-known fact in the coven — but you must’ve indulged in a bit of casual writing on the side. Who else would dear, darling Harper pick up the habit from?
He picks up the journal, and to his absolute surprise, it’s not your handwriting that greets him — it’s Harper’s.
And, boy, does he find out some interesting stuff about your time in New Orleans. Especially in a small little journal that has a few certain French words written in Volt’s blood…
After Drysdale grows bored of his investigations, he calls out to his companions.
“Chance?”
“Sitting on a bench,” Chance murmurs, watching Eddie and Amir cordially interact, “having a smoke.”
“Lady Memoria?”
“Nothing but a man walking a dog. A drunk asleep in his auto.”
“Good, very good.” Drysdale gathers Harper’s journals in his clutches — the rest of the coven must be aware of what Harper’s written, and they simply won’t believe what he has to say if he has no proof. “Meet back at the theater, and stagger your arrivals.”
Drysdale exits from where he came from, only stopping to pet the photographed face of his beloved coven leader.
“Yes, Maître.” Memoria and Chance answer at the same time before Drysdale disappears into the night sky.
~
“You made me look foolish!”
“You just assume it was me.”
“Well, it wasn’t me!”
“You sure about that?”
“Excuse me?”
“I take it back–”
“–take it way fuckin’ back!”
Eddie and Amir’s arguing is like music to Dolly’s ears as she listens to them from another room. She’s been doing a bit of research on this Keith guy that Amir brought up during his little museum date with Eddie, but she’s had no luck besides a very flattering painting that is, presumably, not an accurate depiction of the man.
“I apologize.”
“Do you think I need to be coddled and lied to?”
“I said no such thing, Eddie.”
“But you’re doing it anyway. You can’t even say Canary’s name without grimacing or frowning because you think it’ll affect me–”
“–she’s a sore spot for you.”
“A sore spot? After everythin’ you know about her, after spendin’ twenty-ish years with her, that’s how you describe my wife?!”
“I did not mean to offend–”
“–well, you have.”
…Jesus Christ.
Dolly attempts to type a few notes on her computer, but she’s cut off by a sudden memory that pops up when Amir yells something at Eddie.
“Even as he cried, a splinter of coldness in you.”
Suddenly, that youthful version of Dolly is eye-level with Amir again.
“Is that what makes you fascinating?”
A TV reporter talking about… the weather? A body in a bag, freshly deceased and ready-to-go. Teeth. Pain. Anger. Agony. Amir holding a tape in his hands.
Yeah, no, fuck this.
Dolly scours her computer files, quickly working through folder after folder of recorded and printed interviews that she’s done until she stumbles upon a file named San Francisco, 1975.
“Don’t be afraid. Just start the tape.”
“You weren’t always a vampire, were you?”
That’s her voice, saying the second line that continues to ring through her head. Not Eddie. Not River. Not Amir.
But none of them said that first line…
“Don’t be afraid. Just start the tape.”
Dolly scrolls through the folder. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Fuck.
“Amir, I want you to be honest with me. Did you hide those stamps from me?”
“No, absolutely not–”
“–did you hide her letters from me?”
“The ones in your library? …They’re missing?”
“Yes, they’re missing! I told you to keep track of them. Canary’s words are the only thing I have left of her–”
“–Dolly must’ve taken them.”
“You do realize that accusing her of stealing them makes you look guilty of stealing them, right?”
Dolly ignores Eddie and Amir, choosing to search her first and last name within the files she has gathered on her computer, alongside what River gave her.
Then, she strikes gold. She finds photos of herself, being carried out of a mysterious apartment building in the seventies. There’s a black and white photo of her entering said building, pinned-between you and River while Dolly wears a blissful, naive smile on her face. Oh, if only Dolly knew.
Holy shit. Is that…
At the bottom of the search page, there’s two audio files. She’s now got two recordings of the very last tape that she recorded with you and Eddie, back in nineteen seventy-five. Thanks to Amir’s meddling, she thought they were gone forever, but apparently, someone out there is looking out for her.
Dolly remembers to plug in her earbuds, not wanting to be disturbed by the continued argument that’s going on in Eddie and Amir’s bedroom.
The world, for a moment, falls silent. Then, Dolly feels a hand on top of hers, gently guiding her fingers as she directs the mouse on her computer screen to the play button.
She freezes as she remembers that very touch. The gentleness of those caresses, as if the woman who gave them was worried about breaking the mortal.
Dolly looks over to find that she’s not alone on the couch; however, what she’s seeing must be a figment of her imagination… or her illness. Or both, perhaps.
Because you are nowhere near Berlin, Germany, yet here you are, looking as beautiful as you did when Dolly first met you. Your hair is styled the same way, and your body looks as tempting as ever — Get a hold of yourself! Pinning over Eddie’s wife is what got you into this mess in the first place — but your smile is what really does her in.
“Don’t be afraid,” You murmur, eyes going to the screen in front of Dolly as you help her frozen hand press the play button on her screen, “Just start the tape.”
congrats on graduating!!! I'm sure it's was a lot of hard work.
also fun fact, genuinely I got so absorbed into your fics earlier this year that I was reading them pretty much all day every day so I genuinely had to give up your fics for lent. testament to your amazing writing abilities I guess? 😅
congrats on graduating once again!
ahhhh thank you!!!! it was a lot of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly the last one... a lot of the last one, actually ;-; fuck comp. sci. classes)
between this and the one ao3 comment that called me jesus, I'm gonna develop a god complex, you guysssss 🥹 /j but in all seriousness this is such an HONOR like you gave up some writing from little ol' me for lent???? oh my god that's so flattering 😭💕
again, thank you so much! I'm so happy to be done with that stage of my life, and I'm looking forward to all of the opportunities that will be open to me post-grad 😌 just gotta find a job first... 0_0
WIP Wednesday~
tagged by @bringbackmaes14 & @blackbirdofasgard so thank you both!!! <33
excerpt from the new chapter of iwtv, it's mostly done(?), I just have another fic for a different fandom that I've been dragging my ass about that I want to finish first before I start editing. (that one is three parts & 35k-ish words & i am still not done with it 0_0 oh god)
tw: vampires, violence, very overprotective eddie towards fem! reader but GOD is it hot 🤭
“So it’s mimicry you’re good at.” You can hold your own when someone comes after you, and Eddie squeezes your hand in support of you. He’s got you. He won’t dive in and be the defensive husband unless he needs to be. “Like a parrot?”
Eddie chuckles under his breath at that one. Never change, sweetheart.
The rest of the table is dead silent as you and Drysdale go back and forth with each other.
“Like a gent with upright downstairs–”
“–Or, Drysdale, are you like an organ monkey–?”
“–Cajun drawl. I want to test a theory. Say… New Orleans?”
“Don’t fuck with me.” You hiss, yet the pain in your eyes is extremely evident to Eddie.
He sees tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes, and that’s when he decides that enough is enough. Disrespect pointed towards him? That’s all fine and dandy.
You, however? You’re off-limits. Your gentle, loving heart has been through enough heartbreak and struggle. He won’t let someone else take away the inner peace that you’ve managed to create over the past couple of years. Even if that peace exists without him.
Drysdale snarls at you, and you flinch, despite your distance from him. Eddie takes advantage of the distraction, and he uses his inhumane speed to race over to Drysdale before he grabs Drysdale’s tongue between two of his fingers and pulls it out of his mouth in the most painful way imaginable. Not enough to separate the organ from its home, but enough to get the message across.
Eddie places his free hand on Drysdale’s throat, to compromise his wind pipes, as the man under siege feebly claws at Eddie’s dress pants.
“Anythin’ else you wanna say about my wife while I’ve got your attention?” Eddie growls. “I couldn’t hear you from the other side of the table, but you’ve got my attention now.”
An Interview with the Vampire — Chapter/Episode Twelve: feed us your girls [part two]
a/n: part two for y'all!
read part one here!
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; vampire! amir x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! river x vampire! fem! reader
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
Eddie should probably head back to the apartment.
You didn’t say anything about him getting home safe, but your heart beats outside of your chest, and he’ll cause you so much unnecessary worry if he doesn’t come home to you.
But that’s not on Eddie’s mind right now. Not as he walks through a familiar park, where you received a small business card many, many moons ago. That chance encounter led your trio down a completely different path, and Eddie’s convinced that it won’t end well for any of you.
What will Amir do with the information he’s obtained from Eddie? Or, rather, how will he weaponize it to hurt you and Harper? He’s fucking tried to protect the two of you, but it seems, to his absolute horror, that the thing he needs to protect you two from is himself.
God, how is Eddie going to break this to you? He’s already lied about so much — your whole fucking marriage is a lie because he was too much of a goddamn coward to tell you the truth — and he’s tired of not being able to tell everything to the woman he loves. Eddie yearns for the nights where the two of you would just talk over a glass or two of bourbon, before any of this bullshit started. Lying to you feels like he’s lying to himself, as attached at the hip as the two of you are, and he’s putting off the inevitable. You’re frustratingly brilliant, so you’ll piece together what really happened eventually–
In the distance, Eddie sees Volt. It’s not really Volt — it wasn’t Volt in the bar, by the riverside, in the apartment, in the caravan, in the middle of the fucking war — but, merde, can his mind make a near-perfect hallucination of him.
A terrible, no-good idea takes root in Eddie’s mind. It isn’t what he wants — in the back of his mind, he wants to bury his face in your chest and hold you until the storm in his mind stills — but he doesn’t see a better option at the moment. Temporary relief is what Eddie’s looking for, and this spectre is a perfect outlet for his anger and resentment.
Eddie drags Volt into a forest area, and the pair exchange messy kiss after messy kiss until Volt forcefully pulls himself away from Eddie.
“Even now,” Volt breathlessly whispers, almost as a taunt to the man that holds his face with so much malice yet tenderness, “I’m still the only one you trust.”
Eddie doesn’t see it as a taunt. It’s mostly the truth — he trusts you and Volt — but it always does come back to him and Volt, after everything is said and done.
“Kill me again,” Volt begs before he quickly grows angry, “Go on, kill me again! Show me the only way you know how to love.”
Violent. It’s always been violent, chaotic, and messy between Eddie and Volt. Is that a pattern Eddie really wants to continue?
What happens when your words sound too much like Volt’s, and it sparks a similar fury to what Eddie feels at this moment? Will he react with the exact same force without realizing what he’s done?
…He already has, hasn’t he? Eddie’s already scared you into hurting yourself, even if it was an accident, because you poked a festering wound that Volt opened up.
Does Volt provoke that violent nature, or has it always existed with Eddie?
It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s already repeatedly smashed Volt’s head against a nearby tree trunk, leaving him bloody and gory on the forest floor.
Eddie blinks.
It wasn’t Volt. It was never Volt. Just some poor soldier who was at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Eddie stumbles home with bloody hands and clothes that he doesn’t try to hide or wash. No one who’s out of their room this late at night, in this part of Paris, will question him. He shuts himself in his dark room, trying to sort out his thoughts by himself.
Volt wasn’t there. Some man doesn’t get to go home to his family, whatever that family may look like, because of Eddie.
What of your family, then? Should the three of you consider skipping town? Is it too late to make such a decision, when Paris has her roots so deeply ingrained in you and Harper?
“Eddie, honey, mon cœur!” Your voice cuts through the agony striking Eddie’s heart as you gently knock on the locked door to his darkroom. “I met someone tonight. She’s special. Really special.”
“I know, Canary. You left me with Amir.” He flatly says, messing with the camera that he, somehow, didn’t lose.
“Is somethin’ wrong, my love?” You check in on him, voice sweeter than candy as every word out of your mouth drips with affection for Eddie. “Can I get you anythin’?”
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just go to bed.” In turn, Eddie speaks more sternly to you. “I’ll be there in an hour or two.”
“Oh.” You say, after a moment of silence, and he cringes as he can picture the way you deflate after being turned away by your husband. “Have a good night, Eddie. ‘M sorry for botherin’ you.”
“Wait,” Eddie calls out to you before you have the chance to turn away, but he doesn’t apologize, like he knows he should, “did Amir walk you home?”
“No,” You softly say, “when I came back to the bar, you ‘n Amir were gone. ‘Figured he’d walk you home.”
“He didn’t.” Eddie corrects you.
“I got that,” You shoot back, “Listen, it ain’t my place to speak on this, but if there’s somethin’ goin’ on with the two of you, you need to leave me out of it. Be angry all you want, but don’t take it out on me. I had enough of that shit in New Orleans.”
“Canary–”
“–Good night, Eddison.” You sharply cut him off, and Eddie hears your footsteps fade in the distance before you suddenly stop to speak to someone else.
“Careful with him, Harper. He’s in a bad mood.” You grumble, which causes Harper to dryly chuckle.
“He’s always in a piss-poor mood… companion troubles?”
“Yeah, ‘n he’s takin’ out on me.”
“Same as usual,” Harper comments, and Eddie frowns in response, “Nice painting. Where’d you get that from?”
“Someone.”
“Someone?” She questions you further, but you don’t respond. “...Tell me it’s not another man.”
“Her name is River.” You excitedly giggle right afterwards. “She’s beautiful.”
“She treats you good?”
“Are you my mother?” You tease before Harper scoffs. “Yes. She offered to help me publish my novel.”
“Good for you, Mama.”
“What about you? How’s the coven treatin’ you?” You turn the interrogation back onto Harper. “Amir said you were takin’ the abuse in stride…”
“Drysdale says ‘m almost there, ‘n the coven should accept me as one of their own, soon.” She stops speaking for a moment. “Mama, ‘m fine. This is how the coven operates.”
“I don’t have to like it, though. I’ll support you through this, ‘n I want you to know that if you decide that enough is enough–”
“–I appreciate it, but ‘m good. I like the coven ‘n its members, ‘n they like ‘n accept me as I am.” Harper explains. “I want you there for the ceremony.”
“Just me?”
A knife is torn through Eddie’s being at Harper’s next words.
“Yeah, just you… I think.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll probably be there anyways, since Chairemi ‘n Amir have me workin’ like a dog, but I’ll show up for you. I always will, honey.”
“I know,” Harper says, “Thank you. I’ll talk to Eddie–”
“–you don’t have to–”
“–too damn bad.” Harper shoos you away before her fist pounds against the door. “You can open the door or not. I don’t fuckin’ care, but I need you to know that Canary loves you a lot, ‘n pushin’ her away isn’t goin’ to solve your problems. All it does is create more problems between you ‘n her, ‘n you don’t need any more bullshit in that department. Trust me.”
Eddie grabs a nearby cloth to clean his hands with as Harper continues on, without a response from his end.
“Or you can ignore me ‘n let your own feelings fester. That’s fine.” She deeply sighs. “We need to talk about Bruce since Drysdale asked me about him. I said he was a loner who had fickle moods, ‘n he switched between ‘em real fast.”
That man in the park had Volt’s eyes. Eddie swears by it.
“Just take a night off,” With shaky, somewhat clean hands, he begins to develop the film within his camera, “Too much detail will get confusin’–”
“–No, we should do this. We should be real careful, like you said,” Harper uses Eddie’s earlier sentiment against him, “Eddie?”
No answer.
“Fine. Play with your human pictures. Ignore this.” Harper angrily spits out. “Ignore us, ‘n see how far that gets you.”
~
Tonight was… different.
You didn’t know what to expect when you were invited out by Amir. Well, you did expect Eddie to take pictures of you while you weren’t looking, but you didn’t expect to run into another female vampire.
There was Lady Memoria, Chairemi, Connie, and Miranda from the coven, but they were… a bit much. The majority of the theater company was too much for you, as they constantly interrogated you about your life in America. You couldn’t tell them the truth because of Volt, so you had to lie about everything that you grew up with. Lies, lies, lies. You’ve said so much bullshit that you’re starting to wonder what’s true, and what’s not.
“Does this look okay?” You ask as you hang River’s piece in your writing corner, right above your desk and typewriter.
“Perfect.” Harper says as she pushes her bed upwards, revealing her coffin.
“You’re not lookin’.” You scrunch your nose as you adjust the artwork so it looks just right.
“‘Cause I don’t care,” Harper shrugs before she notices your small pout, “It was a gift to you from a girl you like. It has nothin’ to do with me.”
“It’s in your home, too.” You argue before she shakes her head.
“Not for long.” She mumbles under her breath as you admire the artistry once more.
Beautiful, like her.
River is a breath of fresh air. Honest, kind, and pretty… she reminds you of someone that you lost. Someone who wouldn’t want you to mourn her for the rest of your immortal life.
You know to be cautious of her immediate warmth, as well of her knowledge of intimate parts of your life, but you can’t help but hope that River will be the one to be fully transparent with you. It wasn’t Volt, it wasn’t Eddie — as much as that hurts to say — and it certainly won’t be Amir.
You’ll come to her place when Harper’s been fully accepted into the coven, and you actually have some free time that isn’t given to you because your husband has a thing for the coven leader, and the coven leader has… something for you.
Sure, you could be drawn into Amir’s allure, but he reminds you far too much of someone else. Someone who drew you right into his trap when you were too young, naive, and dumb to know any better. You won’t let that happen again.
“Nice of you to join us.” Harper speaks through gritted teeth as Eddie enters the bedroom area of the apartment.
“We’ll be in bed in a few minutes,” You stifle a yawn as you turn your transfixed gaze away from River’s artwork, “It’s almost–”
Your words escape you when Eddie wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. A quick kiss to your forehead jolts you into action, and you quickly reciprocate his embrace as Eddie squeezes your hips.
“Sorry, angel. You’re right.” He admits before you grin at him.
“‘M your wife. ‘M always right.” You snort with laughter as you feel the tension begin to unwind from his body. “What happened between you ‘n Amir, honey? I haven’t seen you this worked up since–”
“–I don’t wanna involve you, sweetheart.” Eddie kisses your cheek before he looks you in the eyes. “Whatever’s goin’ on between me ‘n Amir should stay between me ‘n him. I shouldn’t bring it home to you.”
What if it does pertain to me? What then?
“Are you sure it doesn’t involve me?” You air out your suspicion to Eddie, who pecks your lips in response.
“I’d tell you if it did.”
I want to trust you, Eddie, but… I don’t know. There’s something up with you, and I’ll figure out what it is before we end up like we did in New Orleans. I can’t do that again.
“You open to talkin’ ‘bout Bruce?” Harper waits for Eddie to nod before she continues on. “Okay. ‘M gonna say that the three of us rode around with him for a while.”
“We were on the open road, roamin’ America.” You say as you pull away from Eddie, unbuttoning his dress shirt so you can help him get ready for bed. If he won’t talk about what’s wrong so you can address it together, you’ll just have to silently take care of him until he confesses or falls asleep after tossing and turning all night, like usual. “We killed at truck stops ‘n motels–”
“–‘til he set himself on fire, one day. Scared the shit out of us.” Harper opens her coffin lid as you peel Eddie’s shirt off of his shoulders, and a soft squeak escapes you when Eddie picks you up with his hands.
“He did it with a lighter,” Eddie adds on before he sets you into your shared, larger coffin that you had already opened beforehand, “Held it up to a rag hangin’ out of his gas tank.”
“We thought we’d be on that road for a long time.” Harper pulls a fiercely red blanket over herself as Eddie checks the locks on the windows and doors, ensuring that you’re safe from the sun for yet another night. “His last words were… ‘Had enough of your gloomy faces.’”
“Good.” You agree before another yawn tears its way out of your throat, and you desperately reach for your husband when he closes in on your coffin, causing him to lightly chuckle.
“We spent all night together, ‘n you still miss me?” Eddie teases before a warm flush settles onto his face. “‘Missed you too, sweetheart. Now, c’mere.”
You scoot over so Eddie can climb in beside you, and you curl up into his side as he throws a blanket and his arm over you in one clean maneuver. He fixes your hair so he can see your face after you settle your head on the pillowcase.
“Y’know, Volt could have said, ‘Put your coffin on a boat. Go to Paris. There’s a beautiful coven there, ‘n I know that ‘cause I fuckin’ founded it.’” Harper takes a deep breath in, then out before she speaks again. “But he said the vampires out there are vicious.”
“Harper,” Eddie starts, looking deeply into your eyes, “Canary, I should tell you–”
“–And then I met the motherfucker,” Harper’s not done with her tirade, but you make a mental note to ask Eddie about what he was going to say at a later time and date, “and, yeah, Volt was right. …It was better when he broke my bones, crammed me under the floorboards.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s talking about Bruce. Not fantasy Bruce, but the Bruce she met.
The same motherfucker you and your husband buried for his crimes.
“I fought him, kicked him, clawed him, bit him. That was fine.” Harper goes quiet for a moment, as your eyes begin to water. Who could do such horrible things to your little girl? “It was when he had me pinned, and he’d tell me he loved me. Before, during, and after. …Before, during, after. That fucked me up.”
You hold a hand over your mouth, to stifle your sympathetic cries, as Eddie rubs slow, comforting circles into your back.
I’ve got you, mon ange.
“One day, he said, ‘Had enough of your gloomy face,’” She explains, “Drove off on a motorbike. ‘Thought I might as well go home, get Canary, ‘n head to Europe.”
“Harper–”
“–I eavesdropped on the coven before I left. Sounds like they’re gonna let me join at the end of the week,” Harper deeply sighs, “It’d be nice if you came, Eddie.”
A pin could drop and shatter the horrific silence that’s encapsulated the three of you. You sincerely hope one does.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He pecks the crown of your head before he carefully wipes the tears from your face.
With a sniffle, you pull the coffin lid down, trapping you and Eddie in a cage of dreadful darkness.
~
“We were circling each other.” Amir clarifies as Dolly leans back in her chair, preparing herself for another session down Falsified Lover’s Lane.
“I was putting him in a difficult position.” Eddie adds on before Amir locks eyes with her.
“I was supposed to be luring him in, but the opposite was happening. I started spending less time at the theater, and more nights strolling the boulevards with Eddie and Canary.” He says her name again, but it manages to invoke a small frown onto the elder vampire’s face. Why? Why her?
“The conversation was easy…”
Eddie’s still talking in the background, but Dolly finds herself more concerned with the chat window that’s suddenly been pulled up on her computer. There’s a conversation with a mysterious person called R, and the typing bubble appears next to their name before they send a message.
Continuing our conversation from the restaurant, honey. Under your last name. Peruse at your leisure.
Ah. R as in River. That’s fucking fantastic.
While Eddie jabbers on about something, River opens up her file system and navigates to a personal folder attached to her last name, and once she opens it, she scrolls to the bottom of the folder to find an unusual icon, with three triangles and an eye in the middle of them, named Bibliothéca Talamasca.
Fuck it. She’s already deep in the spider’s web — why not venture a little further into this mysterious organization that has had her computer bugged from the start?
She double-clicks on the icon, and twenty different folders open on her computer, all at once. Dolly tries to back out of them, by hitting the escape button a few times, but nothing seems to work.
“Something wrong, Dolly?”
Shit.
“Huh?” Dolly’s caught-off guard, but she isn’t able to recover as quickly as she did. “Oh, no, it’s… the computer. Somethin’ you were sayin’ made me think of…”
“Think what?” Amir presses, interested in why she wasn’t paying attention.
Fuck these vampires.
“Oh, it’s…” Dolly lightly taps her head, feigning forgetfulness. “It just flew out of my head there. It’s gone. So, you and Eddie were–”
“–Excuse the interruption,” Real Assad steps into the library, and Dolly’s never been so happy to see that man, “The lawyer for the buyer is ready for the teleconference.”
“The lawyer?” Eddie’s eyebrows furrow as Amir moves his eyes from Dolly to him, causing her to sigh in pure relief.
“It’s about the property in Munich.”
“Ah,” Eddie nods before he drums his fingers against the edge of the table, “Would you mind, Dolly?”
“I’ll use the restroom.” She lies as she glares at the files on her computer.
Eddie and Amir quickly excuse themselves from the space, following behind Assad as he exits the room, and Dolly’s quick to sort through the folders in front of her. They’re named rather accordingly: TdV Theatre Archives, TdV Media, Plays_Scripts, PCKnownMembers, PC KnownVictims, Plays_Scripts, and each has, at a minimum, twenty sub-folders.
What catches Dolly’s attention first, however, is a folder within the TdV Media folder labeled Media Coverage, Great Fire of 1950. Inside, there’s a few scanned files of newspapers that capture a fire that broke out in the building that housed the Theatre des Vampires in that very year.
Interesting. Neither of them brought up a fire.
The messaging window opens up again when River sends her another message, in all caps this time.
HERE TO HELP!!!
Dolly clicks the red button in the top-left corner with a small smile on her face. She’s a goddamn award-winning journalist, she can do a bit of investigative work by herself.
~
The performance goes mostly as planned, minus a small hiccup from Connie that earned her an off-stage scolding from Drysdale, and you are content to furiously type out a modernized version of whatever play sits in front of you in the backroom until Lady Memoria and Chance grab both of your arms and drag you towards the stage.
“Oh, ‘m not interested in actin’–”
“–you’re not interested in your own acting. We are.” Memoria says, and it’s clear by her death grip that you’re not getting out of this one.
Fuck me.
You worry endlessly about what your role in the play might be until Lady Memoria drops you off next to Harper, who excitedly grabs onto your arm once the pair of actors let go of you.
“Oh, you get to help me with the best part!” She half-squeals, until she’s shushed by Connie. “Sorry, sorry.”
You do fret about what her favorite part would be, and you’re right to do so as the coven’s human sacrifice, bound and gagged, is brought to you and your daughter. Once the final act begins, Connie whispers the human’s line to him before he’s shoved out onto the stage.
He performs the part perfectly, as did the woman on your first night in this theater, and Harper runs out to grab his right side as you calmly stroll to hold him from your left.
You scan the crowd, who utterly terrifies you, until you lock eyes with Eddie. The nausea swirling in your stomach subsides when he smiles at you, and you shoot him a quick wink before you’re shooed off-stage by Drysdale.
You watch the ending of the play unfold, and it’s the same performance, word-for-word, except that Drysdale seems to be looking exclusively at Amir, who stares back with a sharp intensity in his gaze. You don’t think much of it, as it’s not your place to do so, and you’re happy when that poor soul is finally put out of his misery when the coven tears into his flesh.
The melancholy performance given on stage doesn’t match the demeanor of the coven members off-stage, where they lift a blindfolded Harper up into the air while her wrists are tied to the arms of a chair.
You stand with Eddie and Amir, observing the glee of the bodies in the room as they chant your daughter’s nickname with acceptance and excitement — “Puce! Puce! Puce!” — and you can’t help but smile. Perhaps your worries were for nothing. Harper’s happy here, and the coven adores her in return.
“Your first night over the footlights.” Amir breaks through the crowd as they set Harper back onto the ground. “How did it feel?”
“Like home.” She grins, despite her lack of vision.
“Come,” Amir takes her hand in his before he leads her to an empty vanity, “I have something for you.”
He instructs her to sit when she reaches a chair near her new living area, and her blindfold is removed to reveal a small music box in front of her, decorated with tiny characters that you can’t make out from here.
“What is it, Maître?” Harper asks as Amir hands her a magnifying glass.
“It’s a flea circus,” He explains, “May it remind you of your humble beginnings. Would you have us?”
“Yes, Maître.”
You can see Harper’s bottom lip quiver with excitement as Amir retrieves the magnifying glass from her before he leads her back to her seat in the middle of the coven members.
“The Five Laws.” Memoria approaches with a large, old book before Amir speaks once more.
“Let the youngest,” He gestures to Drysdale, “read in the youngest.”
Drysdale takes the book from her arms before Amir walks towards the two of you.
“The ceremony is for members only. Shall we have a walk?”
You take Eddie’s arm, expecting to leave with him and Amir until Chairemi calls out to you.
“Not you, Biche.” She calmly says. “You can stay.”
“‘M not in the coven–”
“–have you not laundered our clothes, fixed our props, and reimagined our plays?” Drysdale asks. “You have proven yourself to us… unless you wish to rewrite our plays for the rest of your life?”
“No, thank you.” Your quick refusal of that offer causes a few of the coven members to giggle before Curt and Rod drag another chair into the middle of the circle of bodies. You’d like to walk forward, but you feel the need to direct your gaze towards Amir and Eddie. “Is it truly okay if I…?”
“If you would like to join us, you may. The coven would be more than happy to have you.” Amir takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of it before you slowly nod, and he leads you to your chair before he hurriedly escorts Eddie out of the room.
You’re not given the chance to say anything to him, but you’re sure that he’d be happy with this decision as long as you were happy with it.
Are you, though?
Back-to-back with Harper, you place your hand in hers as Drysdale reads from the large tome in his arms.
“The Five Laws. Law one: Each coven must have its leader, and only he might order the working of the Dark Trick upon a mortal. Will you abide?”
“I will.” Harper squeezes your hand, reminding you to answer.
“I will.”
“Law two: The Dark Gift must never be given to the maimed or to children. Will you abide?”
This time, you and Harper speak in unison.
“I will.”
“Law three: No vampire must ever commit to writing the history of the vampires. Will you abide?” Drysdale circles you and Harper, but his eyes never leave the page.
“I will.” Again, you and Harper share one mind, one heart, one voice.
“Law four: No vampire shall ever reveal his or her true nature to a mortal and let the mortal live. Will you abide?”
Harper’s hand shakes, and you squeeze her flesh in reassurance.
“I will.”
“Finally, Law five: No vampire may ever destroy another vampire,” Instantly, your gaze goes to that fucking painting of Volt, “except the coven master, who has the power of life and death over all his flock. Will you abide?”
You and Harper both hesitate on the law you’ve already broken.
“...I will.”
“It is the coven leader’s obligation to finally seek the destruction," Drysdale lays a hand over Harper’s heart, as Bathsheba does the same to you, and the rest of the coven places their hands all over the two of them so they’re completely intertwined with each other and you and Harper, “of all those who have broken these five laws. Do you abide by our laws?”
“I will.” You answer, alongside your daughter, before Drysdale grins.
“A flea and a doe no more.”
Drysdale reveals his fangs to you before he carves the flesh on his wrist open with his jagged teeth. He offers Harper a drink from his wrist before he offers you the same, and the rest of the coven follows shortly after. They don’t taste sweet, like the mortals do… it’s almost like you’re tasting water again. Refreshing, but there’s nothing to it.
Connie excitedly takes Harper by the shoulders and leads her over to her new coffin as Drysdale helps you up with an open hand and a wink, and when you join the rest of the coven by her coffin, she opens the lid to reveal… a soft, frilly white-and-blue dress that looks more fitting for a doll than a human.
Yet, when Harper puts the dress to her chest with a confused look on her face, you can tell that it’s her size.
I have a bad feeling about this.
“You didn’t think we were going to leave you in the wet room, did you?” Drysdale inquires. “You’re a star, Harper.”
“A new play for you and the leading ladies,” Chairemi then hands a clipboard that holds a freshly-written script to Harper, who immediately scans the papers over, “Haven’t had the time to develop a new play in years, but then your mother came along, and she’s been doing my grunt work for me while I worked on something new. …Thanks for that, by the way.”
In your head, you tell Chairemi to go fuck herself for off-loading her work onto your shoulders.
“Water under the bridge.” is what comes out of your mouth, since you don’t want to fuck this up for your daughter.
“My Baby Loves Windows?” She reads the title before Connie waves at her.
“I play your governess.”
“And I play your mother.” Memoria adds on as the smile evaporates from Harper’s face.
“...And I play the little girl?”
Your heart falls to the floor.
Shit, honey, I didn’t know that they’d… Oh, baby…
“You’ll be their little birdie for the next fifty years.” Drysdale confirms her role, despite the horror on her face, and the rest of the coven rushes in to congratulate her as you lock eyes with her.
Words fail you. You don’t know what to say to Harper to make everything better. Maybe, you say nothing at all because there isn’t a single fucking word that’ll wipe the pain off of her face.
However, you do nod at her, and she nods back at you. You have her back through whatever bullshit the coven’s about to put her through, and you know she’ll do the same for you.
~
Drysdale stalks about the stage, watching the human sacrifice nervously babble his lines, until Drysdale’s gaze catches on Eddie.
Look who’s graced us with his presence.
His thought is intended for an audience of one — Amir, the coven leader, the artistic director behind the Theatre Des Vampires.
What an honor.
Amir sits upon his wooden throne, on the balcony that juts out from the second floor. He doesn’t hesitate to respond to the man on stage.
He’s here in support of his girls. Finish the performance.
“Why don’t you tell us who you are?” Drysdale asks the human, briefly looking away from Amir to give a star-studded performance.
Did you read Le Monde today?
I have not.
A mutilated body was found in a park three nights ago. Crushed skull, puncture wounds on the neck, chest, and shoulder blades. Was that you?
Of course not.
Because everyone else was in coffin by curfew.
“Suppose we were to let you go?” Drysdale waves off Harper and the other female vampire, the one that the coven has grown fond of for her dazzling beauty and magnetic presence.
And our flea isn’t the type to wander in those parks by herself. The doe may, but she seems repulsed by that level of violent behavior, if her reaction to our plays is anything to go by–
–Speak plainly.
You’ve had your time to recruit. It’s not happening.
Drysdale circles the human as his gaze remains dialed in on Amir.
And what of the older American vampiress? She will not acquiesce to your abuse–
–she doesn’t have to. The coven has accepted her as she is. Besides, Chairemi offloading her work onto the poor thing is enough of a punishment, don’t you agree? She hardly has any time to spend with her dear family, and then there’s her own projects, which have been pushed to the side in favor of us. That’s the type of commitment we’re looking for.
But Eddie–
–He will be the ruin of us. Do what must be done.
Are you making demands?
Drysdale places his hand over the human’s chest, right where his heart lies.
The coven would like to know what you intend to do with him, beyond comping him a fifth row center aisle ticket?
And do you speak for the coven?
Drysdale grins as all eyes — all vampire eyes, the ones of importance — go to Amir. Bathsheba, Daisuke, and Artt stare at him from stage right, and Chairemi, Connie, Memoria, and Chance look up at their coven leader from stage left. In the pit, Miranda spares a glance away from her sheet music to watch Amir with steady eyes. Amir doesn’t look to the back of the house, but he knows Curt and Rod are looking his way as well.
All of that fades away, however, when Eddie’s eyes meet Amir’s. Amir, however, can’t meet his gaze for long before his eyes flick back to the stage and to Drysdale.
…After the ceremony. After the girls have committed themselves to us. Then, I’ll do what must be done. Does that satisfy?
You did in my maker for far less–
–Does that satisfy?
Drysdale’s fangs extend before he snarls at Amir.
It does, Maître. …All respects.
~
“What’s your plan, Eddie?”
Amir’s question rattles around Eddie’s head as they walk — Eddie in front, Amir behind him — through the Parisian sewers, towards the apartment that once housed three, but would now only belong to one.
Well, maybe one. It’s unclear how you will fit into all of this. Eddie hadn’t even been given a chance to talk you out of joining the coven, and even if he did, would it have changed your mind in the slightest?
Eddie is the one who can keep you safe. He’s kept you safe for the past twenty or so years. Why would you up and leave him for people you’ve known for less than a year? Are you that put-off by his previous behaviors?
Or, to Eddie’s absolute horror, maybe you’ve put the pieces together by yourself. You’ve figured out all of the lies he’s told, and this is your way of severing your ties with your husband.
It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re out of his reach, firmly placed within the coven’s clutches, and he has to figure out something for himself.
“Leave.”
A terrible plan, really, but what is he supposed to do? Stay and watch you drift further away from him?
Call Eddie selfish when it comes to you, because it’s true.
“Where will you go?” Amir asks.
“London doesn’t seem too bad,” Eddie half-heartedly answers, “If that place is too large, maybe Dublin?”
He doesn’t care, really. He just can’t be here.
“You left a body in the park.”
Eddie feels his shoulders tense up, but he continues to walk along the cold, wet floor, as if nothing is wrong.
“More reason I should leave.”
“You exposed us,” Amir clarifies, “Should I allow the London coven such exposure?”
Eddie has a sinking feeling about all of this as he spares a glance back at Amir, who stares at him with orange, emotionless eyes.
“You revealed yourself to the law firm of Roget and Abert–”
“–they do business with vampires.” Eddie cuts Amir off before he hears something begin to burn from behind him. Nothing can be set on fire in this damp, humid place. The source of heat has to be coming from Amir’s hand. “‘I will not harm you.’ Those were your first words to me.”
“‘My maker was a vampire named Bruce. Who’s Volt de Lioncourt?’ Your first words to the coven.” Amir fires back as sweat drips down Eddie’s neck.
Finally, he dares to look around once he reaches an open part of the sewer, and, as expected, Eddie sees a blooming flame trying to escape Amir’s palm.
“Where are we goin’?”
“We’re going to get lost, and end up back by the river. Like all our walks.” Amir says before he gestures to the left. Eddie, feeling more trapped than cattle being led to the slaughter, forces himself forward, one step at a time.
“Take my head off. I saw what fire does,” Eddie quietly confesses, thinking of Antoinette and her godawful screams as she burned to death, “I don’t wanna go out that way.”
“Any other requests?”
“Look after Harper ‘n Canary.”
“Harper doesn’t need looking after. She won’t be here very long.”
Amir’s words cause Eddie to stop in his tracks.
“What?”
“You made her at fourteen,” Amir hisses as he closes in on Eddie, “A most turbulent chemistry. Her mind, as fierce as it is now, will not endure. It will break apart in time.”
“You don’t know her.” Eddie shakily says as Amir runs a tender hand through Eddie’s hair.
“I don’t have to. I’ve seen it all before. I’ve seen too much, Eddie.” Amir pauses, for an elongated moment. “Canary will be fine, with the help of a female companion who matches her intellect, artistic ability, and ambition. Enduring through the hardest of times seems to be her best trait. She is powerful — more powerful than you or I could imagine.”
Amir extends his fingers, strengthening the raging flames in his hand.
“Why is it, Eddie, that those with the most power are often the weakest?”
“Don’t give up on Harper,” Eddie whispers, closing his eyes and bracing for the worst, “‘n tell Canary she’s beautiful. Tell her that every mornin’.”
Eddie hears the flames grow stronger, stronger, stronger–
–And then they die off, completely.
When Eddie turns to face Amir, the latter wears shame on his features before he flicks two of his fingers into the air, revealing a bit of Parisian night sky through a manhole that Amir opened with his mind.
Eddie exits the sewers first, completely befuddled by this turn of events, before Amir joins his side.
“You walked me home.”
“Did I?” Amir places his hands behind his back, a confident, cool air surrounding him. “‘Hadn’t noticed.”
“That’s my building,” Eddie points to the structure that contains his apartment, “over there–”
“–Did he break you, Eddie?” Amir interrupts him with a question that Eddie doesn’t even know the answer to himself. “Are you broken?”
“No,” Eddie honestly admits, “but I carry him. Canary does, too. I can feel it deep in her mind, ‘n I don’t know if I can… if I… the pain, the…”
“You will.” Amir reassures Eddie with a grimace. “I did.”
“You… ‘n him?”
“A century or so ago. Yesterday. What is time to a vampire?” Amir wonders, stepping forward so he can place a hand on Eddie’s cheek.
Time stills as Amir leans forward and presses his lips to Eddie’s, who responds in like and kisses him back. It’s natural, it’s fluid, it’s relieving.
Eddie breaks away first, walking towards his apartment with a newfound sense of purpose. He opens the door before he turns back to Amir.
“You wanna come upstairs?”
“Are you inviting me in?” Amir seems to be in disbelief as he stares back at Eddie.
“Depends,” Eddie can’t help but smirk to himself, “Are you gonna kill me?”
Amir doesn’t answer, choosing to swallow the spit that’s rising in his throat before he accepts Eddie’s invitation in. The two disappear behind a set of wooden doors, not to be seen until tomorrow at sundown.
An Interview with the Vampire — Chapter/Episode Twelve: feed us your girls [part one]
a/n: hi hi!!! I have been gone for a while, and for good reason! I graduated college last Saturday! :] I had to lock into school for a while, so I wasn't really working on de fics. I actually took a month off of writing this fic, so I'm currently praying that this chapter makes sense with everything else I've already written. also we get the vampire lestat in a month yay!!!!
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; vampire! amir x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! river x vampire! fem! reader
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
cws: smoking/cigarettes, crude/sexual humor, murder, gore, violence, blood, religious guilt, religious themes, age gap relationship, toxic/unhealthy relationship, mockery of the Christian faith, unreliable narrators, mentions of rape and sexual assault, domestic violence, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, fasting/starvation, assumed main character death, hallucinations, generalized descriptions of the horrors of war, spoilers for s2ep3 of amc’s iwtv! Some very disturbing/abusive/toxic behaviors will be discussed and possibly romanticized. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED‼️‼️‼️
summary: Dolly's got a lot on her plate, between a visitor she has when she escapes Eddie's penthouse suite, the information said visitor dumps on her for kicks, and Eddie and Amir's usual bullshit. In Paris, you, Eddie, and Harper are pulled in completely different directions. Harper wants to join the coven, you want to get out of the work that the coven's shoved onto you (and the appearance of an attractive female vampire may just offer you that out), and Eddie wants... well, what does he want? To keep you safe? To hold onto everything that he holds dear despite the lies that are barely keeping his family together? And what of his growing, dangerous attraction to Amir? ...Only time will tell. — 26.8k words overall! [read on ao3!]
“In middle school, you stole your dad’s Playboy magazines. You sold them at recess.”
“This time, I won’t save your life.”
“Azizam… She shouldn’t be here.”
Dolly finds herself crossing out a few notes on a scratch piece of paper, shaking her head at her lack of results.
These fuckin’ vampires…
It was real cute of Eddie and Amir to go swimming in the depths of her minds, in memories that should’ve never resurfaced. Where would they go next? A divorce that was pinned on her not carrying their second child to term? Perhaps it’d be the second divorce then, the one that made her daughters hate her guts. What’s too far for these fuckers?
And to think I escaped that penthouse for a chance to read these letters… I’m losing daylight. I have to push Eddie and Amir aside. Even though I’d love a chance to deck them.
Your letters. This big clue that was supposed to lead Eddie and Dolly to you ended up being all smoke and mirrors.
Go figure.
Yet, she’s still compelled to look through the hidden letters that Eddie kept stashed away. So maybe they’re a bit more… sensual than your previous works, but she’s not discovering anything out of the ordinary.
I’m missing something, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.
What is it, though? Your pen strokes are calm and collected, as they are when you’re in the calmer parts of your life. There’s no sense of hurry to these letters — you’re writing them because you love Eddie — but something’s still… off.
“A penny for your thoughts, honey?”
Fuck my life.
“River,” Dolly attempts to put her foot on the seat next to her, but River’s faster than she is, occupying the seat without a care in the world for Dolly’s scornful look, “you should be dead.”
“Four-hundred-and-eighty-years-old,” River hums as she watches the waiters flit about the busy restaurant, “didn’t you learn that vampires as old as Amir can–”
“–what the hell do you want?” Dolly harshly interrupts River, who gently picks up one of the letters with her fingers.
“You’re right, Dolly,” She murmurs, “There is something you’re missing about these letters.”
“Care to fill me in?”
“No,” God, if Dolly could deck this incredibly beautiful vampire, she would, “I cannot say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Dolly snorts as her eyes scan the page. “I agree with you. I can’t put my finger on what, but I know it has something to do with her and Eddie and the reason they haven’t talked. Unfortunately, I’m having a hard time getting through all of the porn.”
Dolly’s not gonna be able to look you in the eye after this, if she ever gets the chance to meet you in-person, because she knows way too much about your intimate life as it currently stands.
I was a brief part of that intimate life, but I’d rather keep my nose out of this poor woman’s business. It’s bad enough that Eddie’s scoured through your words however many times — my eyes don’t need to look at these words more than once.
“Think little of their contents, darling.” River attempts to place an arm over Dolly’s shoulder, but the latter brushes her off so she can return to her afternoon coffee alongside her brooding session.
“You are not helpin’–”
“–I see they’ve separated you from your laptop,” River’s eyes go down to the archaic forms of journalism — paper and pen — that Dolly is using, in the midst of the digital revolution, “You were off your game a touch yesterday. Perhaps, they believe you’ve been humbled. Clever on their own, but now there’s two of them. Of course, there were always two of them. You just came to that late.”
Jesus Christ.
“You fuckin’ with my head, too?”
“Keep your voice down and look away from me in disinterest.” River softly instructs as she places her hands on the table. “I am an insider for a watchful shop, the name of which has not yet come up in your conversations with them. I will not enter your mind if I do not have to. It is your place of rest, not my playground.”
“They have a stake in the story I’m writing,” Dolly picks up her mug, “You have me bugged, or you want me to think you do.”
“We were tracking nine-hundred of them last month. We’re tracking sixteen-hundred now,” River drops that piece of information on Dolly, all of a sudden, “The Great Conversion. It’s real. It’s happening.”
“Well, then, you have a more immediate problem than a book being researched,” Dolly surmises, “Your organization got a name?”
“Mrs. Molloy, you are not the first to attempt this. I could give you the names of four others who have, and they’re all dead or undead,” River warns, “Files have been placed, with proper encryption, on your comically vulnerable laptop. Most are primary sources that your infamous friends–”
“–anyone here a fan of intelligence officers?” Dolly speaks loudly, drawing the attention of all the people who are trying to enjoy their lunch at a fancy restaurant, “We got a live one–!”
“–Do stop by my room sometime, won’t you?” River’s fingers brush over the part of Dolly’s jacket that holds the key card, “Bring Eddison if you wish, but leave his guard dog at home.”
“Not a fan?” Dolly jokes.
“Are you?” River shoots back. “He seems to have you rattled.”
“They both do,” Dolly softly admits, “and you aren’t helpin’. Where’s Canary? Why all of this fuss to keep her location a secret? Does your organization deal in espionage as well as witness protection services?”
“Good day, Dolly,” River lightly pats her shoulder before she escapes into the afternoon sun, “I’ll see you soon.”
~
“How was your walkabout, Mrs. Molloy?” Amir asks as he hovers around the hanging bookshelves in Eddie’s library.
“Michelin fish in the desert. I burned my entire per diem.” Dolly plainly answers before she turns to Assad, who prepares a pitcher of water for her at the singular desk in the room, “How many people in the world know what you know, Assad? How many Assads, Assad?”
“I suspect just enough to help them stay hidden.” Assad presents the journals of interest to Dolly as she stares down at the note that reminds her to check her laptop for bugs.
“No, that’s how billionaire vampires do it. How does your average Jo-Mo vampire keep people like you in line?” Dolly boots up her laptop before she begins to search through her file system. “Unspoken threats?”
“The threat is always there,” Assad agrees as Dolly scrolls through her Downloads folder, “He could kill us both now, but he doesn’t. They are peaceful beings.”
“They drain and disappear us–”
“–They have a biological imperative that is in conflict with human mortality.” Assad feels the need to defend his… employers? What the fuck is he to Eddie and Amir, anyways? “But what is that mortality, other than rules agreed upon–”
“–Thank you, Assad,” Amir dismisses his assistant before he floats down from the shelves that are suspended from the ceiling, holding a small book in his possession as Dolly hides her notes from today under a pad of scrap paper, “a romantic answer to your question. The average vampire has minimal contact with humanity. When exposed, they feed or run or kill themselves.”
Dolly finds nothing on her laptop, so she quickly pivots and opens the voice recording software in order to start a new session.
“And I’d say we’re multi-millionaires. Not quite a billion,” Amir feels the need to make the distinction as Dolly makes a show of pressing the record button, “It was wrong of Eddie to enter your memories yesterday. You were invited here as a guest.”
“Cell phones–” Dolly starts before she’s interrupted.
“–You were rude, but he crossed a line–”
“–artificial intelligence, crunchin’ improbable data–”
“–Dolly, I offer you my sincerest of apologies–”
“–How do you hide from the cloud?” Finally, Dolly’s able to get the last word in as Amir stares at her computer.
“We should probably wait for him.”
Dolly shrugs.
“Probably.”
Amir’s lips quirk up in a smile that quickly fades from his face.
“He’ll awaken when the sun sleeps,” He pauses for a moment before he answers Dolly’s earlier query, “Your cell phones make you slaves to your fetishes, and data retrieval is primarily about profits, so I suspect no one at Amazon is trying to sell us blenders.”
“You kill,” Dolly dryly points out, “Nightly.”
“And, sometimes, you’ve watched that kill on the local news. You’ve never been easier to distract.” Amir offers a half-decent counterargument that Dolly can’t fully deny. “You’re at the height of wilful ignorance. We exploit it. This is — was — Volt’s prophetic vision.”
Dolly clicks her tongue.
“Volt de Lioncourt?”
“Yes,” Amir responds, “We were shadows, crouching behind stones, prior to his transformation.”
Dolly senses that there’s a deeper story here, so she does what any journalist of her stature and tenure would do — she digs.
“I’m listening,” She shrugs, “That’s my job, right?”
“It was fifteen-fifty-six when the Roman coven sent me to lead the shambolic Paris coven. A face from the subcontinent, French my fourth and poorest language,” Amir admits as he weaves this tale, “I had never led anything in my life. We called ourselves the Children of Darkness. We lived in squalor, hunted in shame, all in strict obedience to medieval laws put in place to protect us from humanity.”
A coven hidden underground. A single vampire, shackled in the middle of a burning fire. An offering to a God that thought of these disciplines as hellions.
A worn, tired man sits upon a wooden, creaky throne of false prophecies and fool’s gold, staring into the fire. Awaiting rescue. Awaiting a new dawn that felt far, far away.
“And though I managed to maintain discipline and humility for two-hundred-and-thirty-nine years as Satan’s fool, by the time Robespierre was beheaded, I was, by any measure, failing.”
“For violations of the first and fifth of the Great Laws,” A male discipline scornfully speaks to his fellow vampire, the one sentenced to death by fire, “death.”
“Our ways were finished,” Amir explains, “We were embers on a waning pyre. Volt was the wind to scatter.”
A barely-lifted hand causes flames to erupt all over the vampire’s body, and he shrieks before he’s burnt to ash.
The man on the throne, the one tired of existence as it was. Judge, jury, and executioner of the Great Laws.
Amir.
“I really gotta meet with this guy.” Dolly hums, absentmindedly doodling on some scrap paper as the voice recording on the computer does the hard work for her.
“I felt his presence before I saw him.” Amir confesses. “He was sired by one of my deserters. This was something… new. Something I hadn’t felt before.”
Amir stumbles into a theater, rubbing elbows with mortals. Mortals. The very beings that his people feasted upon in order to maintain their strength.
It is easy, far too easy, to play pretend as a regal, noble man for one night. To dress in fancy clothes and tied-up hair, instead of the ritualistic rags that the coven had insisted upon him.
Fawning women pay Amir no mind as he settles into one of the theater boxes.
“The fourth of our Great Laws was writ: ‘No vampire shall ever reveal his true nature to a mortal and let that mortal live.’” Amir wears a fond smile as he speaks. “And here he was, prancing and preening in front of five-hundred mortals a night, like some patronized, tarted-up dervish.”
This must be a cruel joke.
The man wears a stupid mask, cracking stupid jokes, shimmying his shoulders in the stupidest of ways as he captures the eyes and hearts of many.
Amir is among that many… not that he’d ever admit it.
“But when Eddie mentioned Volt’s turnin’...” Dolly hums, slightly more intrigued than she was before. “It kinda sounded like a horror show.”
“That may be,” Amir speculates as he rests his arm on the table, “but he made a remarkable recovery shortly thereafter. How else could you explain his hand feeding the audience? How words came out like canaries, summer fruit in the dead of winter. They were all in love with him. He had that effect on everyone. He…”
“Was a natural?” She guesses.
“Entirely unnatural.” Amir corrects Dolly. “Using the Dark Gift for what? His vanity? It was heresy. I had to bring him under my control by any means.”
You’re the bastard child of your Maker, one that I am all-too familiar with.
Volt’s confidence is quickly broken, the act falling from his shoulders as he scans the audience for whoever is drilling those words into his head.
I know you can hear me, my child.
Who calls me child?
Amir can tell that arrogance reeks from this one.
He’s died, hasn’t he?
Perhaps it isn’t the best idea to say such things when Volt is trying to perform, but Amir must get his point across in one way or another.
I can take care of you. I can teach you what he didn’t. Come to me.
Volt continues his performance, not missing a beat as his eyes finally connect with Amir’s.
Come to me.
Volt smiles, in a rather annoyingly handsome way, before he addresses the crowd with a dramatic, overstated bow that makes them guffaw at his absurdity.
Amir tilts his head in curiosity.
This one won’t be easy.
“I followed him for weeks. His rejections only inflamed me,” Amir’s orange eyes shine with a peculiar annoyance that Dolly’s never seen before, “and, the longer I allowed him to exist outside the coven, the more… unsettled my children became. They watched in secret, fascinated by his disregard for the laws I told them could never be broken.”
Amir watches from the shadows, his eyes staying pointed at two of his followers who are hidden behind a small concrete wall. These two, however, pay no attention to the coven leader who approaches them behind. Their gazes are entirely pointed on Volt and the man he greets when he exits his carriage in a fanciful manner.
“He took a mortal lover,” Amir hisses, “More heresy.”
“Home.”
A single command issues from Amir’s lips, and the vampires in front of him are quick to apologize before they scramble back into the darkness from whence they came. Amir stays focused on the pair of men — one older than the other — as they walk arm-in-arm down an abandoned street.
“I can scarcely remember my lines with you fiddling away in the pit.” Volt softly confesses, eyes full of adoration as he looks upon the mortal he’s with.
“The notes blur when your feet hit the board.” The mortal man whispers back, and Amir’s quick to follow them as he eavesdrops on their conversation. “We will be caught.”
“I sure hope so.” Volt smiles, his lavish red cape dragging across the ground as the other man brings a bottle of liquor to his lips. “Can you hear that?”
“Over the noise of your breathless ravings?” He teases, leaning closer to Volt. “How could I hear anything? …What is it?”
“Someone, out there, is watching me, Washford.”
“Everyone’s watching you, Volt, you’re an actor–”
“–He thinks I don’t know he’s there.” Volt specifies, and Amir finds himself repositioning, sliding against a shadowy wall since he aims to remain unseen.
“Is this more poetry?” Washford smiles, stopping in the middle of the road. “Come closer to my ear again… I only understand you when you’re close.”
Volt leans in to kiss him, but he decides to whisper words of warning that Amir is not privy to as he finally approaches the pair in the middle of the empty, dark road.
“Do you keep this boy as a reminder?” Amir asks.
“Volt,” Washford looks Amir up and down, “do you know him?”
“The loneliness you feel, he will not reach it.” He tries to be gentle and persuasive. “Be with your own.”
“And give up my patterned waistcoat? My jabot collar?” Volt vaguely gestures to the outfit that Amir’s wearing. “Live as a grub?”
“What is this, Volt–”
“–it’s nothing,” He reassures his lover before continuing to look down upon Amir, “He’s nothing. Good night, strange one.”
Volt does a mocking bow to Amir before he grabs Washford’s arm and attempts to lead him away.
“I’d tolerated his presence too long already,” Amir justifies his actions with simple words, “I had to act, or he’d destroy what little I had left.”
“Volt!” Amir calls out his name, disappearing when the pair turns backwards and reappearing in the other direction. “Here.”
Amir moves his fingers down, sending Volt to his knees before he pushes his hand towards Volt. Such an action causes Volt to fall against the ground, back-first, before he;s forced away from Washford and Amir.
“Volt?”
The innocence of mortality, wrapped up in a man that was easily knocked back by a wave of Amir’s hand.
“Washy!”
The distress in Volt’s voice is apparent as Amir snaps his fingers, freezing the world around the trio. Everything is at a standstill — the leaves no longer sway in the breeze, the galloping horses no longer round the corner, and the aimless chatter from around the corner no longer echoes down this street.
Pure, raw, ancient vampire power, by the likes of which a fledging version of Volt had never seen.
“You haven’t told him what you are, have you?” Amir guesses as Volt props himself up on his elbows.
“What power is this?” He’s quickly on his feet as he tries to understand the unimaginable. “I don’t have this power!”
“But you will.” Amir reassures Volt. “Your Maker is powerful. You waste your potential with the life you pursue.”
Volt notices that, like the rest of the world, Washford is frozen in place, looking similar to a dead body as he lays against the ground.
“Release him!” Volt demands, vampire teeth jutting out of his mouth as he repeats his words with more force and intention. “Release him!”
“There’s the blood-drinker!” Amir taunts Volt, fully expecting the charging, white-haired pulls that races towards him.
It’s almost fun to send him flying against a nearby wall, shattering the confidence of such an arrogant man with the power that Amir has.
Amir, then, calmly walks towards Washford as Volt lifts his head off of the ground.
“What is this? Who are you?” He questions as Amir hovers over Washford’s still body.
“I am Amir. I am your coven leader.” Amir picks up Washford with one arm as Volt cries out in dismay. “Bring your waistcoat to the grubs, won’t you?”
The screams of a forsaken fledging vampire echo throughout the night.
Amir pays such distress no mind, tying the mortal up at the altar of fire as the coven stares on in curiosity. He’s ducked back underground, to his nearly-disobedient followers who are eager to have a piece of such a mortal.
The coven leader doesn’t have to wait long — the door to their hidden alcove is kicked open by Volt, who carries a large cross upon his shoulders as he walks down a set of destroyed, crumbly stone stairs towards the coven and the mortal lover he’s so fascinated with.
“I am glad you came.” Amir extends an olive branch as Volt glances at the sad, lonesome group of vampires that are collected in such a small space. “He’s unharmed.”
“He’s bled,” Volt approaches an unconscious Washford, who wears small bite marks and wounds from vampires who were a little too impatient, “He does not wake.”
One of Amir’s vampires crawls towards Volt, in an attempt to make the unruly vampire submit, but Volt quickly holds the cross out to the coven member, who whimpers at the sight of the Holy Son upon that cross.
Volt laughs, clearly entertained by such a reaction.
“Is it fun, living in filth and stench such as this?” He asks the coven.
“We serve God,” A female vampire pipes up, “through Satan, through Amir, as we are meant to.”
“Oh,” Volt hums, “A muddy trinity.”
“You will bring down the wrath of God on us with your sins!” A male vampire, this time, chooses to make his voice known as he scolds Volt.
Volt quickly approaches that vampire, with the cross burdened on his shoulders as some sort of divine shield.
“And what are these crimes?”
The coven members are all-too-happy to point out Volt’s perceived crimes.
“You lay with a mortal!”
“You reveal our very nature to them with no consequences!”
“You walk in the temples of divinity!”
“Does he mean the sad man with the nails in his hands?” Volt points at the depiction of Jesus Christ before he haphazardly tosses the cross on the ground, causing it and the statue upon it to shatter into hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces. “It’s a fallen tree. Whittled by the simple for the simple.”
Volt picks up one of the hands that have broken off.
“The same tree made a table leg… made your flute there.” He points at the flutist near Amir before he throws the hand into the fire. “Crawl out of this prison he’s made for you.”
“You let it happen?” Dolly catches on, rather quickly, before Amir nods. “You led him there, so he could destroy it.”
“His words had been my thoughts for half a century.” He clarifies. “If it had come from me, the coven wouldn’t have believed it.”
“God, Satan, Amir?” Volt takes a unique pleasure in destroying the man on his throne of lies. “Does it feel true, hmm? The Gods are us. You are the Gods.”
Volt bends down, snapping the chains tying Washford down with his bare hands before he carries the mortal in his arms. He escapes the same way he came, alongside many vampiric brethren who were emboldened to do the same.
“My children left. They roamed the streets of Paris, wreaking havoc with mortals.” Amir reminisces rather fondly about this time, after losing his power over the coven. “Some could not reconcile the life I had made for them with the life Volt had told them was possible. They went mad and ended themselves. The only thing that kept me from the fire were the old rituals.”
Blood streaks down Amir’s arm as he mutters an old chant in a forgotten tongue. He drinks his own blood for a few moments, only stopping to light a torch behind him as he turns to face Volt.
He looks rather… different, now. White hair no longer proudly displayed along his shoulders — he wears it tied back with a neat, black bow — and his choice in clothing is rather muted and dull, unlike his usual stage outfits.
“Did something happen?” Volt asks nonchalantly.
“I could speak until the end of the world, and I could never tell you what you have destroyed here.” Amir sounds unlike himself, too — unsure of his posture, unsure of the unruly words that tumble out of his mouth.
“There’s no one but us.” Volt points out. “Satan is not listening.”
He slowly strolls towards Amir, who lets the younger vampire approach him with an unsettled look in his eyes.
“How do you make fire from air?” Volt questions the power that Amir has taken for granted. “How do you move objects with your mind?”
“He asks, dancing in the ashes.” Amir muses as Volt grabs his hand, bringing the ancient vampire’s fingers up to his lips for a gentle kiss before Volt bites Amir’s wrist.
Amir sighs — In relief? In dismay? In ecstasy? — as Volt slowly drinks from him.
“You turned your Washford into one of us?” Amir lets his hand fall to Volt’s upper chest once the latter has had his fill. “Did the boy take to the gift?”
Volt’s eyes are distant, filled with a fragileness that Amir can’t comfort away, even with the lightest of caresses from his thumb to Volt’s face.
“Too fragile.” Amir states. “I could have warned you.”
“He’ll rise out of it.” Volt sounds sure of himself, but Amir has seen vampires like Washford walk down this road before.
It never ends well for the cynical ones.
“He will not.” Amir places his hand slightly lower, almost gripping the side of Volt’s neck as he bares his fangs, eager for a taste of the vampire that’s plagued his mind.
When Amir’s teeth connect with the other side of Volt’s neck, Volt groans softly as his fingers pinch the fabric that hovers over Amir’s waist.
“I have an idea,” Volt whispers, “The crowd in a theater enters with their companions as they are seduced into a collective. They laugh together, weep together…”
“What is that to a vampire?” Amir asks.
“An opportunity.” Volt places his hands on both sides of Amir’s face. “Hamlet dies by a poisoned blade, but the actor lies before them, still breathing. In this temple, belief is protection. Announce you are a vampire, drink the blood in plain sight, direct your coven rituals — not in the sewer, but from the balcony rail.”
“I have no coven.” Amir mumbles. “You took that from me.”
“Au contraire, Maître.” Volt strokes Amir’s cheek before he walks away from the man. “They will come back to you.”
Genius is the only way to describe Volt’s idea. To hide in plain sight, as a theater company of vampires with an on-the-nose moniker. And, as Volt said, the vampires came back to the coven in droves to support a new way of life.
“Look how still they are,” Amir admires the crowd, one night after such reformations were made to the coven and its structure, “They really believe it’s a play. You’ve led a reformation, Volt.”
He turns to his companion, Volt, who happily occupies the balcony seat right next to him.
“Non,” Volt refuses to take all of the credit, “we did it together.”
“You make a better death.” Amir says as the actor on stage does his best to be a menacing figure of the end of one’s life.
“The scythe does all the work–”
“–a hundred nights in,” Amir furrows his brows as Volt places a hand on his lower back, “and you’ve grown bored.”
“Only with acting…” Volt’s fingers then trail up Amir’s neck before they land on his shoulder, “Shall we?”
“Here? Now?”
“It’s a roomy box.” Volt doesn’t seem to notice Washford’s burning gaze from the orchestra pit, but Amir sees it right away.
“He’s watching us–”
“–he should be watching his sheet music.”
Volt places a chaste kiss upon Amir’s neck.
“Volt…” Amir trails off, unable to gather the right words. “Je t’aime.”
“Je t'aime aussi.” Volt mumbles back before he leans in for a powerful kiss that sends both men tumbling to the floor, desperate to get each other’s clothes off as quickly as possible.
Dolly stares at Amir. He stares right back at her.
It’s silent in the room — a terse silence, but a silence nonetheless.
“That’s it?” Dolly’s in a little bit of disbelief. “You’re just gonna end it there?”
“They went at it on the floor,” Eddie explains as he calmly walks into the library, “Amir taught Volt how to read minds. And, a week later, Volt was gone.”
He places a gentle, reassuring hand upon Amir’s shoulder before he takes an empty seat at the library table.
“The question was ‘How do vampires hide from Google?’” Dolly’s a bit agitated as she speaks. “Not ‘How did Volt break his heart?’”
“But, because you were a good listener, you got answers to both.” Amir’s a little too self-satisfied for her liking. “When I went to open the theater the next night, I was met by the lawyer, Pierre Roget the First. He was waiting for me with a trunk full of cash and instructions to cover the theater’s cost in perpetuity.”
“Volt abandoned Washford, Amir, the coven,” Eddie lists off these grievanced parties, like they mean something to Dolly, “Volt is, was, and always will be, for Volt.”
“Never say I love you to a raging narcissist.” Dolly snarks a little — she can’t help herself, flashbacks of past traumas be damned – before Amir picks up his story.
“And I locked away those words for another hundred-and-fifty years,” Amir’s eyes flicker downwards before they’re cast upon Eddie’s form, “and then he and his bride arrived… and they shattered that lock. This is what… frightened me most about you and her–”
“–Canary,” Dolly’s getting real fed up with the two of them treating you like you’re some sort of boogeyman, hiding in the shadows and feasting upon their fear, “her name is Canary.”
~
“You, my dearest. You are everything. How could a man live with your divine presence in his life?”
You weave a tale of the imaginary kind on your typewriter, fingers splayed across the keys as you stare at the written drafts beside you. They’ve been improved upon, time and time again, but nothing has felt quite as real as seeing your writing on a typed page in front of you.
It almost gives you the confidence to believe that your dreams of being an author can be more than the fantasies of a naive, young girl.
The confession spawns from your fingers naturally, with minor tweaks to make the characters sound more human, more nuanced than their original iterations.
“Do you think there is a state, a country, a continent, a realm that you could hide from me in? The temptation would only grow with distance, not diminish. You are the object of my affection, the hauntingly beautiful spectre that possesses me at night. How could I not want you?”
You’re quickly drawn into these characters and their world — perhaps as an escape from yours?
But you like your life. Although, you could do less with the coven nonsense. Amir and his kindred are… interesting, to say the least. They’re constantly pulling you aside to show you this or that part of the theater company, or to try to get a piece of what’s between your legs — Connie’s a nice woman, when she’s not trying to jump your bones — however, when you finally have some time to yourself, Amir or Chairemi throw an old play at you from their repertoire and kindly ask you to update it for them.
You came to study under a published playwright, not do unpaid labor. Yet, you do the work anyways, if only to keep Harper in the good graces of the coven leader and the coven as a whole. Somewhere, in the midst of your work, is a finished draft of a play that was older than your grandmama, if she was still kicking after all of these years.
“I… am unsure of what to say. You say so much, yet show so little. How am I to take you at your word?”
“Say nothing. Let me show you how I feel.”
“That is easy for you to say when you can just–”
“–He’s in Copenhagen, workin’ at a car factory,” Eddie, practicing his alibi for the coven, pulls you completely out of the moment, and your fingers cease their movement as your thoughts scatter in every direction but towards the piece of paper in front of you, “He hates his maker, takes the boat back to America. He gets me on an L train in Chicago.”
Right. If it’s not the wild assortment of coven members shoving you this or that way, it’s Amir and Chairemi throwing script after script of violent wordplay in front of your face. If it’s not them, then it’s your lovely companions trying to dig themselves out of a hole that they shoved you into face-first.
“I said outside of Chicago,” Harper’s stolen your vanity on your side of the room, so she can apply a bit of make-up before tonight’s performance, “He said he didn’t like big cities.”
“He gets me outside of Chicago,” Eddie murmurs as he aims the lens of his camera at some birds that linger outside of an open window, “A diner on the way to Gary.”
“Then, before you find me in Springfield–”
“–sellin’ chestnuts outside the train station–” Eddie cuts her off, reciting a story that they’ve gone over a hundred times by now.
“–by the train station.” Harper’s little corrections cause you to hum lightly — a careful warning to your companions to not turn these little disagreements into a full-blown argument — before you attempt to type on the keys once more.
“–have whatever you want. Men like you can have whatever you want, with no consequences–”
“Canary?” Eddie’s hand lands on your back — When did he get so close? Wasn’t he just at the window, a few steps away from your writing desk? — before he leans down to kiss the crown of your head. “You listenin’?”
“”Heard the story a thousand times over, my love,” You try to hide your growing frustration under a soft, sweet tone as you turn to face your husband, “‘m probably sayin’ it in my sleep.”
“I know, sweetheart,” His hand slides up to your shoulder, and you have to suppress a soft moan when his fingers begin to circle tense muscles that haven’t relaxed in months, “but I don’t want somethin’ to happen to you ‘cause we’re not on the same page about this stuff.”
“Perhaps this ruse is a bit too elaborate…” You mutter under your breath, trying to return to your work for the final time with minimal interruptions.
Maybe I can–
“The ruse only works if you participate, Mama.” Harper warns as you sigh before you pinch the bridge of your nose to work off a little stress.
One night of peace. One night to get more than a few sentences squeezed onto a page, where I can write my final draft at more than a snail’s pace. Ten pages, front-and-back, in almost half of a year is pathetic.
“Fine,” You give up on making any progress on your own work, quickly sorting through the wrinkled draft of your novel to find the play that Amir asked you to rewrite, “In another life, I was a young widow who was married off before she knew what marriage was. My first husband and I only spent seven years together before he died.”
“And?” Harper pulls her attention away from the mirror, looking directly at you as you repeat this falsified backstory for yourself that she crafted for you.
“I fell into hard times ‘n had little goin’ for me. Some poor old man took pity on me ‘n let me work as a cleaner in a small hostel that he owned, in exchange for a roof over my head, three meals a day, ‘n whatever change he could spare in the midst of the world’s hardest times,” You pause, and Eddie squeezes your shoulder in reassurance before you continue on, “I only worked there for a few weeks before Eddie ‘n Bruce came in. I thought they were odd, but they were nice ‘n tipped well, so I didn’t think much of their relationship with one another.”
“I saw her, one night, hidin’ in the shadows as she took the bedding off of a spare room. Bruce ‘n I weren’t on… speakin’ terms, so I wanted to find company elsewhere. I didn’t expect it to be Canary,” You feel Eddie’s breath on the side of your neck as he tilts your head towards him, making sure that you clearly hear the words that come next, “I thought she was beautiful in the moonlight. I knew I had to make you my wife when you smiled at me for the first time.”
Not her. Not Canary. You. Eddie’s not talking about this bullshit story — this is about the time you first met.
“You were everythin’ to me, ‘n I hardly knew you,” He whispers, “‘Couldn’t get you out of my mind. I begged Bruce to let me turn you, even though we were fightin’, and he agreed. If only to make me stay.”
“I was scared when you first showed me what you were. I thought you were gonna hurt me, but then you told me that you wanted to make me your bride.” Your nose brushes against his, and the temptation to kiss Eddie is strong. “You promised to keep me safe, ‘n you said I’d never have to work a day in my life. It was a dream life, compared to the marriage I was trapped in before.”
“You agreed, ‘n I would’ve turned you if I was strong enough. Bruce snuck in ‘n saved the day.” Eddie takes the plunge first, pressing his lips to yours as his free hand settles on your stomach. “We didn’t know ‘til later that you were expectin’–”
“–his baby, not yours. You were turned, ‘n you couldn’t…” You bite down on your bottom lip, feeling tears poke at the corner of your eyes. It hurts to lie about your daughter, that her father isn’t the man that you adore with all of your heart even though he is. “Our baby. She’s our baby, Eddie, I don’t wanna have another man’s baby–”
“–Mon ange, I know she’s mine,” Eddie speaks softly and slowly as his hand plays with a few strands of your hair, “but even if she wasn’t, any child of yours is one of mine, okay? That wouldn’t make me love you less. Nothin’ would make me love you less.”
“You ‘n I?” You sniffle before Eddie pecks your lips once more.
“Me ‘n you.” He takes your hands in his before he smothers them in messy kisses, bringing a gentle smile and sweet laughter to your lips as you kick your feet in excitement.
My love, my darling, my Eddie, I–
“Bruce kills himself in Cincinnati." Harper keeps the conversation on track as she picks through a few shades of lipstick.
Eddie wears a confused expression that makes you snicker before you wrap your arms around him, allowing your husband to drag you to your feet as he looks at Harper.
“What the hell do we know about Cincinnati?”
“What do they know about Cincinnati?” Harper counters.
“What’s he look like?” Eddie asks as if he doesn’t know. As if you both don’t know.
As if you both didn’t enjoy snapping that motherfucker’s neck in half after he–
“––they won’t ask that.” She seems rather confident while Eddie is unsure of himself as he cradles you in his arms.
“They will.” He presses further as Harper sets her lipstick of choice aside, reaching for a pencil to outline her eyelids with.
“It’s only been a few months, it’s enough.” She opens her mouth ajar, as you do when you use the eyeliner pencil, “‘m workin’ backstage tonight. I don’t wanna be late.”
“You’re the one who said he was our maker.”
“Eddie, drop it.” You glare at Eddie, who quickly surrenders to your will as he squeezes the flesh on your hips.
“I can use him like he used me. Y’know he kept me under the floorboards for a week?” Harper’s hand shakes as she tries to apply her lipstick, “I don’t know what it is that you need from me, Eddie. I remember what I remember, ‘n it’s enough to keep us safe.”
“I pry ‘cause ‘m worried about where this is headed,” Eddie speaks with more tact this time as he addresses Harper, “You might be havin’ a good time now, but there’s danger if they find out we lied.”
Danger? What danger? The only time you felt a bit of danger was from Eddie, after he spoke with Amir on the night that you, Eddie, and Harper went out with the coven on a hunt for the first night.
You’re past snooping in people’s minds — you don’t like it when others read your mind, so you’re trying to treat others the way you wanna be treated — but, for once, you’re tempted to do so. He’s hiding some sort of threat, veiled or unveiled, from you. You can’t help but wonder: is his secrecy meant to protect you and your daughter, or does he want to keep you ignorant?
I told myself I wouldn’t have a husband who lied to me, yet here he is, lying to me again.
Old habits die hard, so you’re willing to let Eddie string you along one last time before he reveals his hand to you. And he will, because God help him if he keeps a secret like this from you for years or decades or centuries.
“Maybe not Cincinnati,” Harper screws the lid back onto the lipstick before she glances in your direction, “How about Shreveport?”
An olive branch. A way for you to craft a different story from the one she’s been drilling in your head for months on end.
“Caddo Lake,” Eddie pulls the camera from his neck, setting it on your desk so he can embrace you fully, “My father took me there to fish. There’s a drawbridge there. He burned on the bridge.”
“Shreveport, Caddo Lake, burned himself on the bridge.” Harper repeats the story to herself before you all stare at the door once someone knocks at it four times. “You expectin’ someone?”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head as you break out of his hold, and he tries and fails to grab you as you race towards the front door, “Canary–”
“Amir.” You’re pleasantly surprised to see the coven leader welcoming himself into your humble abode.
“The door was ajar.” Amir says as the hair on the back of your neck rises.
Did he hear what we were talking about?
“If you open the doors and windows, you get a little breeze.” Eddie brushes past you so he can walk Amir to your bedroom.
You follow close behind the pair, right after they squeeze past you.
“Cavalier, but I’m sure you’re being careful.” Amir has this cautious, careful energy that you can’t quite read as he glances back at you. “Biche, I do believe you have something for me, no?”
Deer. You’re not quite sure what about your appearance gives off a doe-like vibe — Eddie says it’s your eyes, but that’s coming from the man who gets lost in them on a regular basis, so perhaps he isn’t the best source of practical knowledge when it comes to your appearance – but you don’t despise the nickname.
“Right here!” Harper, in your stead, presents him with your reworked play before she does a small curtsy. “Maître, welcome to our lair.”
“Shouldn’t you be in the lobby?” Amir questions.
“I got three minutes–”
“–Did I give you consent to look me in the eyes, puce?” Amir’s query causes Harper’s gaze to meet the floor immediately, and a frown settles on your lips as your spunky, confident daughter is so willing to let this man run all over her because he has a claim to power.
Who are you kidding? You have no room to talk, after all of the shit you dragged her through because you love Eddie and, at one time, you did love Volt.
Did he love me, though?
“No, Maître.” Harper quietly answers before you jump in to apologize on her behalf.
“It’s my fault, I was keepin’ her–”
“–have I been late once, Maître?”
There’s your daughter, your Harper.
“Have you been early once? …That would be the question I’d be asking myself.” Amir still takes her down a peg before she bows her head further, heels clicking furiously as she sprints towards the door.
“How’s she doin’, Maître?” You ask about your daughter when she’s out of earshot.
“Amir, azizam. For you and for him,” A subtle redirection before he actually addresses your question, “She’s taking the abuse in stride.”
“I’ve never seen her happier.” Eddie admits as Amir strolls around the apartment, looking between the photographs on the walls and your interpretation of a centuries-old play.
“The coven has grand designs for her.” He stops to admire the picture of you on your nightstand, the one of you facing towards a bright moon. “You’re drawn to portraiture as your wife is drawn to the fantastical side of writing.”
“It hides the cracks in the walls.” Eddie shrugs, following Amir’s movements with his eyes.
“These photos…” His fingers circle the moon in the picture, not daring to touch you, “Show me where you take them.”
You can sense a certain… tension between the two men, so you offer to excuse yourself to the night.
“I’ll present my work to Chairemi so she can make the necessary corrections–”
“–join us, won’t you?” Amir’s invitation is hard to turn down, especially when Eddie’s begging you with his eyes to go. “What is a photographer without his greatest muse?”
~
“Unconscious death is the fate of all mortals.”
I hide in the wings, maneuvering my small body into a bit of empty space before I watch Drysdale perform that bone-chillin’ monologue that he ends every performance with.
“Up, up, up.”
Tonight, his victim of choice is some older mortal man that Drysdale stalks around, ‘n I’d take a seat for the rest of the show if one of the coven members — Chairemi, I think? — didn’t shove me back towards the dressing room.
“Know your place, puce,” She whispers as a warning, not a punishment, “your time on the stage will come soon.”
Right. I haven’t earned my place in the coven yet. Yet, yet, yet. I’ve been takin’ care of their laundry, tidin’ up their spaces, ‘n takin’ their verbal ‘n physical blows on the chin for weeks. I hope they accept me as one of their own soon.
I tire of the company I have to return to every night. The shame and guilt that oozes out of their every action, towards the world and each other, bores me. I know it’s deeply ingrained in my mother, from the day she was turned, but she should no longer feel bound by the fear that gnaws at the back of her mind. We’re free of him, our shared tormentor. I wish to help her rise out of this state, but I do not believe I can do so alone.
My motivations for wantin’ to be a part of the coven are not entirely selfish — settin’ my mama up with someone who isn’t a gold-speckled piece of shit is a noble cause, right? Though, I’m unsure if any of these vampires are Canary’s type. They’re all a little… much.
“We are conscious death,” Drysdale’s voice echoes through a grainy speaker in the back of the dressing room, remindin’ me to get back to work before I get somethin’ besides a wooden chair thrown at me tonight, “and that would make you a groom. Do you know what it means to be loved by death?”
I know I’m supposed to be foldin’ laundry ‘n puttin’ it by everyone’s coffins, but I stop when I see a newspaper in the frame of a mirror.
Stage And Screen — Othelllo at The York Theatre Royal. May 13th, 1921.
My fingers reach out to touch the paper, but I stop when I hear the next part of the performance.
“No pain.” Drysdale whispers before his partner for the night echoes the sentiment back to him.
“No pain.”
I squeal like a little girl — a fitting reaction for a child-like body, but not for a woman of my mental age — as I softly speak to myself.
“This is my favorite part!” My hand goes to my heart as I say the words alongside Drysdale. “No pain.”
Artt is the only one still in the dressing room, so I turn to him so I can voice my thoughts aloud.
“How does he get them to beg for it?”
“Eyes down, Puce, eyes down.” Artt’s much nicer than the other coven members, and I take that scrap of kindness as a sign to obey as I tilt my head downwards.
It’s this big, suspenseful silence as I wait to hear the microphone pick up the gasps of surprise from the audience when they see Drysdale drain his victim… and the moment is totally ruined when I hear someone sneeze from backstage.
The star of the show himself storms towards his vanity once the show is done, with the perpetrator who ruined the show — Connie — on his heels.
“Did you fucking sneeze at the end?” Drysdale’s really mad as he hangs up his scythe, and I busy myself with a pile of misplaced clothing so I can eavesdrop without being told to shut my mouth or run off and make myself useful somewhere else.
“I tried to stifle it!” Connie argues, but he’s not having any of it.
“It’s the moment of quietus–”
“–it’s hay season!” She throws her hands into the air as Drysdale removes his cape from his shoulders.
“We’re not on a farm, Connie!”
“It still sounded terrifying, Mr. Drysdale,” I feel the need to make my opinion known as Chairemi beckons me forth to clean up the dead human that’s fallen right into the dressing room, “I got chills.”
“Of course you did,” He shrugs confidently, “because I’m a…”
“Fucking professional!” The company speaks the last part with him as I help Chairemi wrap this mortal in some spare cloth that we have laying around.
“Puce!” Chairemi lifts up one end of the blanket before I lift up the other.
“Comin’, ma’am.”
I help her take the body down into this basement-like place, where I always help her dispose of the bodies. When I first started workin’ backstage, she told me this was called the wet room.
She pointed out the cage in the corner of the room, where we kept the sacrifice until the end of the show, but she never talked about the crypts that sat along the back wall of the basement.
They must not be that important…
We haul the dead man towards the body box, which is a big metal box that helps us clean up our kills so the mortals don’t find out about us. Truly, a body in a box does nothin’, but what’s real interestin’ is that there’s a small metal shaft connectin’ this box to another box that’s in the middle of the room — the rat box, as Chairemi calls it.
I throw the mortal into the body box, closin’ the lid right afterwards. Switchin’ a lever causes the rats to scamper from their newly-opened rat box into the body box, and they feast upon the flesh of the mortal as I turn the lever back down, sealin’ off the rats and preventin’ them from escapin’.
Tomorrow, that’s the rat box, and the other box is the body box. Get that in your head, Harper!
“Rat box,” I point to the one in front of me before I gesture to the other, “Body box.”
“Good, puce,” She places her hands on her hips, “‘m glad you’re here.”
“You just want off of rat duty,” I glance at Chairemi, and she simply nods in agreement at my statement, “this is… new to me. We had an incinerator at home.”
“How’d that work?”
“Throw ‘em in. Watch ‘em burn.” I say as the rats suddenly go quiet.
I guess they’ve had their fill, huh?
“Hmm,” Chairemi wears an expression that I can’t quite read, “Feels a bit German to me. …Hey, have I ever shown you this door? It leads to the catacombs and the sewers, and I–”
I’m still thinkin’ about those crypts or vaults or whatever you’d call them that sit against the back wall. There’s gotta be fifty of ‘em, in five lines of ten, ‘n only some have writin’ on ‘em.
“What are these?” I dare to ask, after all of these weeks.
“Burial vaults. Coven members past. Mostly heretics and law breakers.” Chairemi explains.
“What are the laws?”
And have I broken any without even knowin’ it? …Fuck Volt for not tellin’ us any of this shit.
“Not until the ceremony, puce.” Chairemi throws a wink my way, leavin’ me to stare at the burial vaults ‘til I feel like comin’ up ‘n joinin’ the rest of the coven.
~
There’s nothing but the sound of gentle rainfall and three sets of feet walking in time together as you, Eddie, and Amir stroll down the streets of Paris. It’s quiet here, with the occasional car that crosses your path and splashes either Eddie or Amir with water — neither would dare to let you walk on the outside for that very reason — and Eddie finds himself enjoying the peacefulness that’s wrapped around this tender city.
“We like to walk a new part of the city every night,” You explain as Eddie fiddles with the lens on his camera, doing anything in his power to avoid the daunting, powerful, alluring gaze of the man next to you, “I enjoy gettin’ lost, but Eddie… not so much.”
Your hand remains situated on his forearm — a gentle reminder that his sweet Canary is beside him, always — before you giggle to yourself.
“Somehow, we always end up back by the river,” You nudge Eddie’s shoulder, immediately pulling him away from the camera so he can look you in the eyes, “mon amour, even though he’ll never admit it, likes takin’ pictures of me here. ‘Says I look prettiest when ‘m cast in the moonlight that reflects from the movin’ river.”
“Eddie has a good eye,” Amir finally manages to catch Eddie’s eye, and when he does, he smiles gently, causing Eddie’s face to heat up, “The waters of the Seine are contained and beautiful. A vein, winding through the heart of Paris.”
Amir takes your free hand so you can lift up the skirt of your dress as you walk down the stone stairway that leads to the scenic riverwalk that Eddie has taken far too many pictures of.
Well, the riverwalk is more of a background. You’re the main focus of his compositions, and that doesn’t change as he lingers towards the middle of the stairway, snapping a few quick photos of you as you beam at Amir.
If only I could make you see yourself through my eyes, mon ange. Then you’d understand how beautiful ‘n special you are to me.
“There’s much talk of your camera in the coven.” Amir looks up, offering a hand to Eddie that he does not take as you still fail to notice that you’re being photographed. “They say you’re mad in love with humanity, thieving their private moments with light and shadow. They pester Harper and Canary about it.”
“Humanity?” Eddie chuckles to himself. “You know it’s her. It’s always been her. …If they’re curious about what ‘m doin’, then they should ask me themselves.”
“How could they when you’re so rarely present?” Amir presses a kiss to the back of your hand, presenting Eddie with the perfect picture before you turn towards Eddie.
“Eddie!” You softly whine, nose crinkling in adorable frustration as he makes his way towards you and Amir. “You said you were gonna ask the next time you–”
“–you look good, sweetheart,” Eddie’s teeth chew on his bottom lip as he admires you, “can you blame me?”
“Absolutely!” You remark before you throw your arms around him, sweet laughter sending shivers down his spine, “My hair got messed up by the wind ‘n the rain, ‘n my make-up isn’t–”
“–Mrs. Watts, your husband has good taste in clothing and his opinions of you,” Amir slides his hands into his pocket, wearing an easy smile as he notices Eddie’s reddening face at the subtle flirtation, “He means well when he photographs you.”
“Thank you, Amir,” You bow your head before you turn your head to the side, intrigued by something in the distance, “excuse me for a moment, won’t you?”
Before Eddie or Amir can stop you, you’re off towards whatever caught your attention, leaving the two men by themselves once more.
“I… about me stoppin’ by, I–” Eddie feels himself stuttering over his words like a fool, as he did when he first met you and Volt, “I saw enough theater at home for several lifetimes. No offense.”
“None taken,” Amir begins to slowly walk towards you, and Eddie quickly follows suit, “Nothing worse than being dragged around unwillingly by a companion. This was… Bruce?”
Shit. I didn’t think he’d come up tonight.
“Yeah, Bruce.” Eddie gives a half-hearted answer, lifting his camera in front of his face once more to grab a few pictures of you facing away from him as you slowly approach the edge of the river.
“The opera-loving motorcyclist.” Amir seems amused while Eddie’s sweating bullets.
“Uh-huh.”
“You should talk with Curt and Rod about cameras,” Amir suggests, “They’re well-taught. Perhaps the three of you could–”
“–’m not doin’ the coven.” Eddie turns to look Amir straight in the eyes. “Neither is she, to save you the sales pitch–”
“–the coven’s already chosen your darling Canary,” Amir tilts his head in curiosity as you carefully sit at the edge of the riverwalk, watching boats float towards a nearby bridge, “I’m afraid that’s out of my control.”
“The coven has Harper.” Eddie’s making himself very clear on this — he won’t have you torn from his side, not if he can help it, “She’s happy, we’re happy. We’re not joiners.”
You weren’t a joiner, but you spent four or five nights a week at the coven, perfecting your craft. Eddie missed you terribly on those days, even though he had a chance to see you in the morning and in the evening.
Call him selfish, but a few hours of your time during the night wasn’t enough for him.
“Yes, you’ve made that clear enough.” Amir backs off, for the moment.
“So, if that’s why you’re here–”
“–it’s not the whole reason I’m here.” Again, Amir’s gaze is pointed at you.
“No?” Eddie asks, and he’s immediately annoyed when an unwelcome voice joins the conversation before he comes into Eddie’s view.
“No,” Volt shakes his head in an exaggerated motion, white curls bouncing this or that way, “It’s definitely not the whole reason he’s here.”
He’s not here. He can’t be here. He’s dead.
“I like you, and I like her.” Amir calmly says before this phantom of Volt scoffs in disbelief.
“I like you,” Eddie ignores Volt, “isn’t that obvious?”
Amir chuckles, his eyes flickering from you to Eddie, and then back to you.
“We really must work on blocking your thoughts.”
“Excuse me?” Eddie’s set on edge once more as Amir stops a few feet away from you, just out of earshot.
“I sense him now, in your mind,” He murmurs, leaning closer to Eddie, “but that is not the only thing I sense.”
“Maybe ‘m guardin’ my thoughts just fine,” Eddie’s playing defense, all of a sudden, “maybe, I let you into my head on purpose.”
“Oh, that’s nice, mon chéri,” Volt mockingly says, “lovely.”
“Regret, and sorrow, and guilt,” Amir reads Eddie like a book, “you say such lovely things to your bride, yet you feel such terrible things inside of you whenever you look in her direction.”
“She’s doin’ charity work by bein’ with me–”
“–you constantly think about the night she was turned,” Amir cuts him off, “you wonder what it would be like if things had happened differently, no? If life had other plans for your wife and the child inside of her?”
Amir carefully presents his hand, palm-up, to Eddie before Volt roars with laughter in the background.
“A cheap parlor trick, my darling Eddie, nothing to worry your head about–”
“–may I show you another life?” Amir presents Eddie with an offer that’s hard to refuse, especially as the latter looks at you and notices the way you hold your stomach as you watch a family with small children float past the two of you in a small boat. “Not magic, nor a trick of the mind. An alternate path forward.”
Eddie doesn’t think about the consequences of this action, how this could easily derail everything Harper’s built into her bulletproof plan. He tears his eyes away from you as his hand slides into Amir’s, and the rest of the world fades into nothingness.
“Leave her alone, Eddie. If not for the mercy of your own heart, then for me.”
“I can’t–”
“–Can’t or won’t? You can deny Volt. Tell him she slipped away from your reach.”
A split-second decision on the night of your twenty-first birthday. It’d be so easy to give into the hunger that churns inside of him, to the erratic impulses that a fledgling like Eddie has yet to control.
Yet, he hesitates, looking towards you. You’re shaking, scared shitless of the man who promised to keep you safe for the rest of your life.
Eddie hears soft creaking from the roof above him — he doesn’t have to kill Betty as she won’t make it out alive between the fire and Volt, so there’s no chance she’ll be able to spill his secret into the world — so he decides to back off.
One decision. A branching tree limb that takes you both down a different road.
“Eddie,” Tears spill from your eyes as your hands go to your stomach, protecting something that you’re not yet aware of, “please.”
He nods, slowly walking towards the door — towards you — and he’s surprised when you rush forward and embrace him. Mere moments before, you were telling him that you didn’t want to be his wife, and now you’re holding Eddie like the world would collapse if he left your side.
“Thank you,” You murmur as his hand goes to the back of your head, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“She’s not safe with you,” Betty hisses as you continue to cling to Eddie, “you can’t protect her from Volt or yourself. You’ll lose control, you’ll kill her–”
“–I won’t. She’s special to me,” He lets his fingers curl around a strand of your hair, “I’ll do anything for Canary. She’s gonna be fine. I’ll make sure that she’s fine.”
“You can’t make her love you–”
“–I don’t need Canary to love me,” Eddie kisses your forehead as his hands smooth out some wrinkles on the shoulders of your dress, “I want her to be here with me. I want her to be happy.”
“I wanna go home,” Your muffled cries are still heard by your lover, who hums in agreement, “Betty–”
That creaking roof finally gives way, and Eddie moves you both out of the room before burning piles of wood and ash can fall on top of you.
“Oh, Betty,” You push Eddie away, wiping the streams of water from your eyes as you stare into the fiery mess that was once Eddie’s office, “She’s–”
“–yeah.” Eddie confirms something that you already know, but it still hurts to see you struggling with so much sudden pain and grief. “Sweetheart, we need to go. I don’t wanna be around when Volt figures out what I’ve done.”
“He told you to kill Betty?” You whisper. “Fuckin’ asshole. He’s downstairs, ‘n there’s no other way out. How are we gonna–”
“–there’s somethin’ I never told you about.” Eddie takes your hand, pulling you along like you’re a marionette on a string. “Hell, I didn’t even know about it ‘til I saw Tony disappear into some door in the back of the building.”
“Another way out?”
“I think,” Eddie’s praying that he’s right as he leads you into Tony’s room, and he opens the door at the back of the room to reveal a small, dark stairwell that leads down to the first floor, “go on, mon ange. I’ll be right behind you.”
You walk a few steps forward, carefully lifting the skirt of your dress as you step through the doorframe before you look back at Eddie.
“You promise you won’t run off? You’re not gonna try to play hero and–”
“–no. We’re gettin’ the fuck out of here.” Eddie places a hand on the small of your back to gently push you closer to the top step. “I won’t leave you unless I have to.”
“Okay.” You still look unsure of yourself, but you descend down the stairs anyways, with Eddie hot on your tail. “We… we can’t go back home, can we?”
It breaks Eddie’s heart that you already know that the bar and the apartment that you’ve shared for months now is no longer a safe haven for you. You couldn’t go and grab your things, the material possessions that would bring you comfort in such a distressing time in your life. All you have is Eddie, and he’s no longer sure of your love for him as you avoid holding his hand while you open the door at the bottom of the steps.
The moon still hangs proudly in the sky, revealing a small staff-only parking lot that only houses a few cars tonight, owned by people who will no longer need them. Eddie takes your hand, remembering to apologize for touching you with your permission later, when you’re both safe and sound and away from the monster haunting Azalea Hall at the moment, before he leads you to Tony’s car.
“Eddie, you don’t have…” You trail off when Eddie opens the car door and grabs the keys that just sit on the driver’s seat, “Did you know that he just–”
“Tony’s predictable, Canary.” He murmurs, rushing over to your side of the car so he can help you into your seat, “It’s gonna be a long drive. You up for that?”
“Where are we goin’?” You tilt your head innocently as your hand cups Eddie’s face, thumb softly stroking his cheek. “My love, I’ve had enough surprises for one night. An honest answer would mean a lot to me right now.”
My love. You certainly know how to scramble his thoughts at the most inopportune of times, don’t you?
“My father gave me a place of my own for my eighteenth birthday, about an hour or two out of town,” Eddie glances up at the moon, praying that he has enough time to get you both there before the sun threatens to burn him up, “I hated livin’ there, not feelin’ like I earned it. I’ve thought about takin’ you there, but I… Fuck, sweetheart, I wanted us to build somethin’ of our own, y’know? Somethin’ that was ours, that’d always be ours–”
“–we can build that life for ourselves when we’re not running for our lives, hmm?” You hum before you press a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, with you bein’ a vampire ‘n me bein’ a human–”
“–we’ll figure it out, Canary–”
“–you’re gonna be honest with me, right?” You murmur as Eddie climbs into his seat. “No more bullshit, no more lies, no more games. Whatever Volt’s told you, I wanna know. The only way this is gonna work is if we’re honest with each other. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah,” He sticks the key in the ignition, exhaling in relief when the engine roars to life, “whatever you wanna know, pretty girl. ‘M an open book to you.”
“But you’ve been lyin’ ‘n keepin’ things from me.” Eddie sees the frown on your face, out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out of Azalea Hall’s parking lot, with the intention of never returning to this place even if it’s still left standing after tonight’s events. “You said you didn’t drain humans.”
“‘Didn’t wanna freak you out. Didn’t want you thinkin’ you were my next meal, sweetheart,” His hand drifts down to your left thigh, where you carefully place your hand on top of his once he makes contact with your skin, “No more humans, I swear.”
“Can you live off of animal blood?” Your nose crinkles with disgust at the thought. “If you’re gonna suffer, then I’d rather have you drink the human blood… just not around me, though.”
“I’ll figure out somethin’, Canary. Somethin’ that can work for both of us,” He watches as your free hand settles on your stomach, suddenly remembering that you hadn’t been feeling well before all of this shit went down, “How are you feelin’? You said you were sick earlier, that you were only keepin’ down water–”
“–’m fine.” You abrasively answer, choosing to look at the fading city lights instead of your lover. “It was nothin’. Probably some sort of seasonal illness or affliction.”
“Your heart beats faster when you’re lyin’ to me,” Eddie gives away your tell, causing your eyes to widen as your fingernails scratch the back of his hand, “Has this been goin’ on for a while?”
“I don’t… think so?” You softly answer, after a brief moment of contemplative silence. “I’ve been under so much stress with the wedding, ‘n I thought that everythin’ I’ve been feelin’ has to do with that.”
“Everythin’?” Eddie repeats. “Tell me what’s been goin’ on. What I’ve missed ‘cause I was dealin’ with Volt’s shit.”
“My wedding dress doesn’t fit me right, even though it’s in my size, ‘m tired ‘n sore all of the time, ‘n I can’t enjoy my favorite food ‘cause they make me sick at the thought of ‘em,” You list a few of your symptoms to Eddie, “That last thing only really ever happens in the mornin’, though. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today–”
“–why do you keep holdin’ your stomach like that?” He questions the habit that you’ve suddenly picked up in the last few weeks.
“I… Merde, I really don’t know.” Your eyes shine with tears as you glance at Eddie. “You think ‘m dyin’?”
“No, Canary, I…” He trails off to listen to your heartbeat once more.
And then it suddenly makes sense to him.
Not because of your heartbeat — that one is strong and thriving, as far as Eddie can tell.
It’s the additional, softer heartbeat that’s carefully tucked behind yours that helps him pull it all together, alongside the things you’ve told him.
God, how does he tell you, though?
“Mon ange,” Eddie tries a gentle approach as your hand rubs your stomach, the maternal instinct going into overdrive without you even knowing that you’re expecting, “you know I can hear your heartbeat, yeah?”
“You’ve done it before,” Your brows furrow, “what is this–”
“–I hear someone else’s heart beatin’.”
There’s silence as you consider his words before you tilt your head in confusion.
“Is someone followin’ us?” You ask sweetly, in that voice that makes Eddie want to throw his arms around you and hold you until all of the bad things in the world go away.
You’re so lovely, so kind, so wonderful… your son or daughter will be blessed with the best mother that’ll dote on them endlessly.
“Canary, my sweet girl,” Eddie brings your hand to his lips, dialing in on that fainter heartbeat that’s nearly drowned out by yours, “it’s comin’ from inside of you.”
“Me?” You murmur, and he pecks the back of your hand as you realize the cause of your aches and sickness. “I’m… with our… we’re gonna be…”
“It’s a lot to take in,” He settles for holding your hand as the buildings in the city of New Orleans slowly fade into the background, “but one thing’s for fuckin’ sure. You’re gonna be a really good mother to our baby.”
“Thank you,” You sniffle, completely overcome with emotion, “a baby… Oh, Eddie, I wouldn’t want to be any other way with any other man. ‘M so glad I have you.”
He couldn’t imagine any other woman carrying his child. How could he, when you’re the only one who’s made him want to have a family?
“I love you. I know I fucked up tonight, ‘n I’ve got a lot of shit to make up for, but I’ve got you,” Eddie says before he corrects himself, “both of you. We’re gonna be a strange family, but we’ll make it work. We always do.”
The rest of the drive is in pure silence that’s only interrupted by the occasional soft snore from you. You’ve been sleeping for a while, head resting on Eddie’s shoulder as he makes sure to avoid any holes or bumps in the road. You need all of the rest you can get, with a little one on the way.
Eddie can’t be bothered to wake you when you arrive at your destination — a small, two-story cottage in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana — so he carries you inside as the sun threatens to peek over the horizon.
“Tomorrow, we’ll get you all settled in.” He softly promises as he takes you into the bedroom, shutting all of the curtains and pinning them shut after he tucks you into bed. “My mother kept some spare dresses upstairs. We’ll find somethin’ pretty for you to wear while you’re growin’ our baby.”
He pulls some hair out of your face before the narcoleptic pull of the sun suddenly makes him sleepy.
“I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Eddie collapses before the sun fully rises, and when he wakes again, the moon is awake alongside him.
It’s been months since you’ve made your escape into the countryside. Months that were easily counted due to your growing stomach, and, once you gave birth, time would then be counted through your child’s major milestones.
You’re not there yet, even though you’d like to be. Eddie can tell that your patience is starting to wane as the days go on and your child is not any closer to meeting their parents.
“Eddie,” Your frown — a terrible sight for him to wake up to, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm repeatedly until you softly smile, “‘m so uncomfortable.”
“I know, sweetheart,” With sleep thick in his voice, Eddie glances up at his very pretty yet very overdue wife, “The baby’ll be here soon enough. Worryin’ yourself sick won’t help anythin’.”
“But I–”
“–Canary,” He sits up, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he places a careful hand on your stomach, “you need all of the rest you can get. You’re gonna regret wastin’ this time when you have a screamin’ infant in your arms.”
“I have so much to do,” You express your worries to your husband as he grins at the small kicks that he feels against the palm of his hand, “the nursery needs the finishin’ touches.”
“Pretty girl, did you rearrange everythin’ without me?” Eddie murmurs as he kisses up the skin of your arm, admiring the white dress that you’re wearing tonight.
“Just the clothes ‘n the smaller stuff,” You admit before you giggle to yourself, a warm smile resting upon your beautiful face, “I have a handsome husband that does the heavy liftin’ for me.”
“Attagirl.” He praises. “That dress looks good on you.”
“It barely fits–”
“–sweetheart, would it kill you to take the fuckin’ compliment for once?” Edie’s half-joking, half-serious as he kisses your cheek repeatedly, sneakily pulling some bedsheets over your legs as a way to tempt you into crawling into bed with him. “You’re beautiful, ‘n I don’t like hearin’ you talk like that. Not when you’re the mother of my child, my wife, my sunlight–”
“–You don’t… mind me lookin’ like this?” You look genuinely shocked, like you expected repulsion instead of fervent admiration. “You still want me?”
“I never stopped wanting you.” He answers before he seizes your lips with his own. “Canary, ‘m sorry that there have been people in your life who have made you think that you’re anythin’ less than perfect. You’re an angel of a woman, y’know that?”
“Perfect,” You softly repeat the word before you kiss him back, snuggling as close as your protruding stomach will allow you to, “you think I’m…?”
“Yes,” Eddie’s hands still on your waist, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, “fuck yes. You are perfect. I’ll tell you that every mornin’ ‘n night, when you’re sleepin’ right next to me, ‘n every time I fuck you ‘til you get it through that head of yours.”
“Don’t say things like that…” Your face flushes as you wear a downright gorgeous smile that illuminates the darkness of your shared bedroom. “You’e temptin’ me.”
“Am I?” He chuckles. “Hadn’t noticed.”
“Eddie,” You whine, placing your arms around his neck, “honey, I hope you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use elsewhere, ‘cause I can’t take anymore of your teasing. Not when ‘m like this.”
“Whatever Mama wants, Mama gets.” Eddie takes your hands before he pulls you on top of him, eliciting a delightful scream from you that fades into warm laughter. “Merde, I hope she has your laugh.”
“She?” You question. “How do you know we’re havin’ a girl?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe it’s the way your heart beats in-time with hers.”
“Is it weird, hearin’ your wife ‘n your baby’s hearts? I think I’d be quite maddenin’–”
“–it’s comfortin’.” Eddie answers as his hands slowly slip under the skirt of your dress. “Knowin’ you two are safe ‘n happy.”
“Of course ‘m happy,” You grin before you lean down and steal a kiss – and Eddie’s heart, while you’re at it – from him, “I have you. We have you, ‘n that’s all we need.”
Deep down, Eddie worries about the child growing inside of you, if they’ll accept or reject him for what he is. Not a monster, not a thing that goes bump in the night, and certainly not a human father that can chase his child around in the morning sunlight while you make breakfast for your little family.
He’ll miss those tender milestones and the small moments that mean nothing to an infant but everything to a sentimental mother, but he’d rather have a few hours every night with his family than have no family at all. You and Eddie would figure your circumstances out together, as you always did.
On a full moon, when the pale moonlight shone brightest into a spare bedroom that you prepared for this very purpose, a screaming infant entered this plane of existence, born from the love and affection that you shared with your husband before he was turned into a vampire.
You were exhausted, as anyone would be after giving birth, but you smiled so brightly at the little girl that you held in your arms. She was your mirror image, down to the color of her eyes and the shape of her nose. She even looked at Eddie with the same warm affection that you held for him.
He was well and truly spoiled by you. You gave him a gift – a part of you that you can never get back, a part of him that he never knew that he needed until he held his daughter in his arms. Eddie swore, on that very night, that the two of you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Everything his wife and daughter would ask for would be theirs, no questions asked.
A warm smile, followed by joyous laughter, was ever present on your face when you held your daughter in your arms. You were a natural, holding her on your hip with one arm as you flitted this or that way in your countryside home. Eddie could hardly keep up with the two of you — a humorous contradiction to the supposedly endless energy and lack of tiredness that he’s supposed to have as an immortal being.
Part of him, however, doesn’t mind staying behind, if only so he can watch you and your daughter go on with your lives. You two look so happy together, entertaining each other with tiny gasps and tender touches that are only understood by mother and daughter.
He can’t be a spectator forever — usually, the little girl in your arms clamors for her father’s attention once she spots him over your shoulder. Grabby hands are hard for any man to resist, especially when they come from a girl who looks far too much like the woman Eddie loves with all of his heart.
For now, she’d just let out a small yelp at the sight of Eddie, followed by a gummy smile that’d make you coo at your daughter as Eddie’s heart turned to mush at the domesticity displayed in his home. Soon, her screams of utter nonsense would turn into loving cries of ‘Mama!’ and ‘Daddy!’ that he couldn’t possibly hope to resist.
Those days are far from now, as your daughter isn’t even walking on her own two feet, but they’ll come around eventually, as all things do. Eddie pushes aside the thoughts of never experiencing this again with you, as your little girl would be your only child with him, before he lifts his daughter out of your arm and presses a few quick kisses to her chubby cheeks.
She babbles in pure excitement, kicking her feet in the air at the affection being thrown her way.
“She’s like her mama,” You murmur, eyes softening at the sight of your two loves, “always happy to see Daddy come home in one piece.”
“Pretty like her mama, too.” Eddie smiles when she wraps her whole hand around one of his fingers — God, he’d do anything for the two of you, “Did you two get into any trouble while I was out?”
“Nothin’ worth talkin’ about.” You wink at your daughter before you place a hand on her back. “Ain’t that right?”
She shakes her head enthusiastically, causing you both to chuckle.
“Trouble like your mama ‘n your daddy,” You wistfully say before you finally peck Eddie on the cheek, “you get enough to eat?”
“I manage,” He answers non-commitally before your eyebrows furrow, “sweetheart, I had plenty of blood. Enough for me to make it through the night.”
“I worry, my love,” You place a hand on his forearm, “that’s the only reason I ask.”
“I do enough worryin’ for the both of us,” Eddie lightly jokes before he kisses your lips, “‘m fine, Canary. I can take care of my own needs.”
“I wish it wasn’t like this, though,” You frown at your own words, “not that I don’t love you like this, I just–”
“–had somethin’ different in mind?” Eddie finishes your sentence, waiting for you to nod before he continues on. “You’re not the only one who thinks like that, mon ange.”
“I hate thinkin’ like that. I like how comfortable ‘n quiet our lives are, I…” You trail off, nervously playing with the strands of your hair, “I wish you could see the way your daughter smiles when she plays in the sun. I wish we could go out as a family during the day ‘n have a normal life, instead of bein’ stuck in here ‘cause we don’t know if he’s still around.”
“You still think about–”
“–what if he comes back for me, for you, for her, for us?” Anxious thought after anxious thought spills from your lips. “We still don’t understand what we were messin’ with when it came to him, Eddie. He’s stronger than either of us know, ‘n I don’t want our daughter in the middle of that.”
“Canary,” Eddie places a gentle hand on your face, wiping away the stray tears that threaten to fall down your cheek, “nothing’s gonna happen to you or to her, okay? Not while ‘m still kickin’. ‘N even if ‘m dead, I’ll fight like hell to make sure that the two of you won’t suffer the same fate.”
“Thank you.” You throw your arms around Eddie and your daughter, capturing them both in a hug that serves to, first and foremost, comfort you as you offer them some affection back. “I’d do anythin’ for her or for you–”
“–I wouldn’t ask you to.” He cuts you off as his arm wraps around your waist, supporting his little girl with the other, “I don’t want you to make yourself into a martyr.”
“You can’t do that either.” You whisper. “You can’t leave us ‘cause you think we’ll be better off without you. We aren’t. She needs her father, and I need my husband. ‘Don’t care that you’re not a human. I’d rather have this version of you than not have you at all.”
“Sounds like we have a deal.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “No martyrdom for Mr. or Mrs. Watts.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” You sniffle, putting on a brave face for your daughter, who smiles at you with no understanding of the conversation that just took place, “C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up ‘n ready for bed. Once you’re snuggled into your crib, your daddy ‘n I will read you that bedtime story you like–”
“–’m not doin’ the voices–”
“–that’s bullshit ‘n you know it,” You roll your eyes as your daughter giggles merrily when you snatch her from Eddie’s arms, “she looks at you with her big, pretty eyes ‘n you’re a goner.”
“She has your eyes, your smile, your laugh… how can I refuse her when she looks ‘n acts like you?” Eddie softens — he always does — when you take his hand and lead him towards the bath tub.
“You ‘n I can get whatever we want if we work together.” You scheme with an infant who has no idea of the death grip that she has on both of your hearts, but she nods along with your every word like she does understand you. “‘Cause your daddy loves us a lot.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
As much as he wants these days to last forever, time refuses to stand still. The seasons change, and your daughter grows up as the years pass him by. Soft cries for anyone transform into sweet pleas for her mother and father, and you nor Eddie can refuse her. That little girl is your everything, and he can’t possibly imagine a world without her.
He needs her sweet, unconditional love on nights like tonight, where he’s constantly reminded of the fact that time will come for his wife and his daughter as well. For now, the two of you are far from death’s clutches, but that swinging scythe of doom always lingers in the back of his mind.
Eddie slips out of his childhood home, leaning against the doorway as he watches you and your daughter stare at the plains that he explored in his youth. His little girl is situated upon your hip, as she’s too big to be held in your arms anymore, and Eddie can tell through your slightly slanted eyebrows that you’re struggling to hold her.
“Mama,” Your daughter’s sweet voice — eerily reminiscent of your own in its ability to pull at his heart strings — carries through the silent, dark night, “Why didn’t we see Grandma before Grandpa passed?”
“Your daddy doesn’t get along with his family.” You softly murmur back, as if the funeral crowd inside could hear you through the walls. “He’s bein’ the bigger person by showin’ up today.”
“Grandma talked to me ‘n Daddy a lot last night, but not you,” Observant and kind — two traits that your daughter inherited from you, not him, “Why is that?”
“It’s grown folks’ business,” You respond with the warm elegance that Eddie knows you for, but the truth is pulled from your lips when your daughter pouts at you, “She doesn’t approve of me. A long time ago, your grandma set up somethin’ between your father ‘n another woman, ‘n when it didn’t work out, she swore that she wouldn’t accept anyone as a daughter-in-law except that woman.”
Eddie scowls at the way the smile on your face falls when you mention this other woman. How could you envy a nameless woman when you are the sole object of Eddie’s wants and desires? You are everything Eddie could’ve asked for and so, so much more.
“Why?”
“You’re somethin’ tonight,” You tease your daughter by pulling on one of her feet, causing her to whine ever-so-slightly, “you must be sleepy, sweetheart. We can go home when–”
“–I’m here,” Eddie makes himself known by stepping forward as he speaks, “We can leave if she’s ready to go.”
“Eddie,” A soft sigh leaves your lips when he takes your daughter from your arms, and his earlier suspicions are confirmed when you slowly stretch your arms, trying to regain some feeling in them, “If your mother still needs you here, or if you’re not done with–”
“–If you’re not welcome here, then I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie brushes a piece of unruly hair out of his little girl’s face as she lays her head on his chest, “what kind of message am I sendin’ to her if I let my mother disrespect the woman I love?”
“My love,” You place a hand on Eddie’s face, thumb stroking the stubble on his face, “I don’t want you makin’ any rash decisions on my behalf.”
“Rash? Canary, sweetheart, you bring out the best in me,” Eddie quietly argues back, “I settled everythin’ a few hours ago.”
“I like where we’re stayin’, Eddie, ‘n she,” You pause to place a hand on your daughter’s back, rubbing comforting circles that quickly send the girl into a peaceful slumber, “she likes our little home. This place is too big, too–”
“–I told my mother I wasn’t interested in the property.”
“Really?” You’re rendered confused for a moment before you recover. “‘M… glad. I think it’s for the best that she keeps her distance from us.”
Your lips quirk downwards as your eyes meet Eddie’s.
“Did she say anything about your…?” You trail off, noticing how Eddie has his sunglasses tucked into his suit pocket. When the three of you had arrived, he used those small spectacles to hide the yellow tell-tale eyes that would alert the mourners of his… condition.
“No, but she didn’t like the color of my suit jacket,” Eddie jokes, which causes you to crack a small smile, “‘til I told her that her granddaughter was the one to pick it out for me.”
Eddie looks at his daughter, to get her opinion on the matter, but she’s fast asleep, knowing that both of her parents would do anything to keep her safe.
“There’s somethin’ on your mind.” You pivot after a moment of brief silence.
“You can’t know that–”
“–I’ve been married to you for half a decade, Eddie,” You deadpan after you cut him off, “I know your tells.”
“I don’t have tells–”
“–that’s what they all think.” You quip, amused with yourself. “Spit it out. Now.”
“I…” Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t want you to worry.”
“I don’t worry until you tell me not to worry.”
“Mon ange, I…” Eddie can’t find the words to tell you of the paralyzing fear that dominates his heart. How can he describe his harrowing fear of time and death without guilt tripping you into something you don’t want? “I don’t wanna lose you.”
“Honey, I’m here.” Your free hand goes to one of his forearms. “I won’t leave you.”
“I know you won’t,” His voice wavers, threatening to break with every word that leaves him, “but somethin’ you can’t control is gonna take you from me.”
“Ah,” You click your tongue, humming under your breath, “I figured you ‘n I would have this conversation. I thought it’d be later, rather than sooner, but…”
You roll your shoulders back, removing your hands from Eddie’s body to subtly fix the skirt of the black dress that covers the soft curves of your body before you talk once more.
“When our daughter’s older — much older,” You correct yourself before you continue on, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you turnin’ me.”
“Canary, I won’t force you–”
“–you aren’t. ‘M choosin’ to do this. I want to be with you, Eddie,” You calmly say, “Why won’t you accept the love you deserve?”
“‘M gonna use that against you in the future, sweetheart,” He smiles, more so when you press your lips to his, “You have plenty of time to change your mind–”
“–I won’t,” Confidence radiates from you as you speak, “‘m far too stubborn ‘n reckless for that.”
Eddie asks you that same question — if you’re sure that you want to become a vampire — month after month and year after year, but your answer never changes. He warns you of all of the horrible shit that Volt conveniently forgot to mention — the bloodlust, the literal death that your body must overcome as you’re transformed from human to this — and none of it dissuades you. You have your heart set on this and on him. You will choose Eddie over and over again, and he’d always pick you over anyone else in the world.
Even when you’re laid out in front of him, wearing one of those white nightgowns that Eddie always adored, he’s still hesitating. Years have past — there’s small lines around your eyes, and you’ve shaken most of your youthfulness in favor of a subtle maturity that wraps around your shoulders like a warm, comforting blanket. You’re still his Canary, through and through, but you’ve grown, and the life you’ve lived has changed you.
“One last chance, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs from the edge of the bed, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips so he can place a quick kiss to the skin of your palm, “you can back out of this.”
“I don’t wanna.” Stubborn in a way that only Eddie finds to be delightful, you refuse the out that he offers this. “I want to experience everything life has to offer with you.”
“Forever’s a long fuckin’ time.”
“We made it eighteen years,” You can’t help but grin as your words spill forth, “what’s another one-hundred and eighty?”
“Mama,” Your daughter steps forward, gently tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “he’s askin’ because he cares.”
Merde, that little girl, who isn’t very little anymore, looks exactly like you. Same eyes, same hair color, same smile, same no-good attitude that had Eddie wondering if she learned that from you over the years, or if it was a trait that you inherited from some woman in your family that you then passed down to your daughter.
Once upon a time, she was running around the bedroom like crazy, or pulling at Eddie’s bottom lip so she could see his fangs, or begging him to tell her all of the stories about his nighttime adventures when she saw him next. Those days are long, long gone, however, and the young woman in front of him displayed a level of calmness and grace unheard of for someone her age when she put two-and-two together about her father.
Sure, Eddie hadn’t hid anything from your daughter — you and Eddie had agreed that she could ask whatever questions she wanted to, and you’d both answer accordingly — but you were more freaked out than she was. Yet again, this was normal for her. She didn’t know a life where her first heartbreak came from argumentative, unloving parents. Acceptance, warmth, and love — pure, sweet love — flowed through your home with every word and action that her parents shared with each other and her.
“I know, baby, ‘n I love him for it,” Breathless, you let her fix your hair so your neck is fully exposed to Eddie, “you don’t have to be here for this.”
“We’re a family, Mama. I want to be here for you,” Once your little girl has finished her quick, precise movements, she grabs one of your hands before she intertwines her fingers with yours, “if you want him to stop, squeeze my hand, okay?”
“Okay,” You nod in agreement before you focus on Eddie, “‘m okay, my love.”
“I know,” He whispers before he allows his fangs to elongate and stick out of his mouth, “I love you, Canary. As a human, as a vampire, as a person, ‘n as my wife.”
“Love you too.” You say it back before Eddie sweetly kisses you, leading a trail of kisses from the corner of your mouth down the column of your neck before he lets his fangs sink into your flesh.
The sweet taste of your blood coats his tongue, and he greedily takes and takes from you until he hears your breath hitch. Pulling away from you, Eddie wipes a bit of blood from his lips before he pulls up the sleeve of his dress shirt. With his teeth, he creates a small indent on his wrist that leaks droplets of blood from the cut before he offers it to you.
Eddie watches as your fingers weakly curl around his arm before you bring his wrist to your mouth, and you drink from him with as much ease as he drank from you. He doesn’t harshly pull his wrist away from you; instead, he waits for you to release his wrist before he rolls his sleeve down once more.
“Honey?” You weakly call out for Eddie, and he can’t help but crash his lips into yours after he pulls you into his arms.
“Canary, angel,” His hand goes to your face, and he tilts your head up so your newly-orange eyes can meet his, “how are you feelin’?”
“Tired,” You sleepily blink, and a tiny yawn from you shows the fangs that are starting to form in your mouth, “‘n hungry.”
“That’s normal,” Eddie reassures you, “we’ll get you somethin’ to eat, sweetheart.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, of course,” He kisses you once more, “as much as you want, Canary–”
“–what did you see, azizam?”
“What?” Rudely pulled from his trance, Eddie’s barely able to tell where he is or who he’s with until he’s able to focus fully on Amir, and not on Volt, who barely lingers in the background.
He’s here, in Paris, with you and Amir — not in New Orleans, living a fantasy that was never the predestined path for you or Eddie.
Because I fucked it all up.
“Fine. Keep your secrets, Eddison.” Unbothered, Amir changes the subject. “The coven is envious of your independence. It’s a problem when you’re on the outside, looking in.”
“Your problem,” Eddie shrugs, pulling his camera in front of his face as an ample distraction from whatever Amir just showed him as well as the ghost of Volt that’s still in the background, “not mine. You want me ‘n Canary? We’re here, in the streets, cafés, and the bars. This whole goddamn city feels like it’s born again. No one’s tellin’ me what to do or when to do it. ‘M… ‘m tryin’ to find myself.”
Without him, Eddie thinks as his gaze lingers on a flickering shadow of Volt that disappears when Eddie returns his gaze to Amir.
“Then what room is there left for me,” Amir steps closer, eyes going down to Eddie’s lips, “if you have not found yourself?”
“Oh, there’s room.” Eddie snaps one final picture of you before he brushes past Amir to call to his sweetheart. “Canary, mon ange, you ready to leave?”
You hum, letting your gaze leave the boats that pass by the riverside before you turn to Eddie.
“Yes, my love,” A sweet smile stretches across your features as you hold your hand out to Eddie, “There’s a bar nearby that I’d like to go to.”
Eddie hears Amir sigh, and a quick glance backwards shows Amir smiling before he shakes his head, clearly a little starstruck by the pair of vampires in front of him.
~
I should keep my head down and play the puce. Is it fuckin’ humiliatin’? Yes. Is it the only way I’ll be accepted into the coven?
…Unfortunately, yes.
However, tonight, after the body was taken care of, ‘n everyone else had cleared out of the back room, I couldn’t help but stroll up to Drysdale as he was touchin’ up his make-up. The question on my mind rolled out of my mouth before I could take it back.
“How do you do it?” I kept my eyes fixated on the floor, like always. “How do you get them to accept death?”
It always comes back to the mortals that we drain for life, doesn’t it? The mortals that my mother ‘n father feel so connected to, despite bein’ nothin’ like them.
The movement of Drysdale’s eyeshadow brush stops as he looks at me through the mirror’s reflection.
“They’ll never hear you in the front row with your head down.”
Slowly, my eyes dared to meet his, and he shot me a tiny wink before he continued to fix up his appearance. I don’t understand why the vampires do this. Their appearances are picture-perfect! They don’t have child-like features to hide with heavy make-up and an unhealthy dose of confidence.
Still, I cracked a smile when Drysdale spoke to me. ‘M startin’ to make headway with the coven, slowly but surely.
“First thing I do when I creak open the lid is have a chat with my scene partner for the night,” Drysdale explains, “Muck about in their heads, find their shame. In short, an actor prepares.”
Starin’ at that mirror of his, I was reminded of the newspaper article I saw hidin’ behind that very frame. In particular, the name of the actor featured in the play that the article references.
“Who’s Francis Naughton?”
Drysdale hesitates before he answers.
“The best Iago to walk the York Royal.”
My mouth dropped ever-so-slightly.
“That was you?”
“And what was your shabby life in Chicago like before the vampire Bruce bit down on your wee neck?” Drysdale pivots as he suddenly stands, digging in the rack of clothing that sits next to his vanity.
“I was in Springfield…” The rehearsed script comes to me easily, after weeks and weeks of practice. “Selling little trinkets at the train station.”
“You were an orphan?”
I frowned. I hadn’t considered myself an orphan since the fire had claimed the last of my blood relation. I had no need for blood relatives when I had my mother, the only family I needed in this endlessly hellhole that is life after death.
“You could say that.”
“And an orphan again. We have that in common.” Drysdale wistfully says as he points at me, then himself.
“I thought Maître made you?” I asked.
“And why would you say that?” He countered.
“Lady Memoria told me you were the youngest,” I told him as he threw a black cloak over his shoulders, “but you’re also the strongest. ‘Figured you got the best blood.”
“No,” Drysdale clicks his tongue in disapproval, “My maker lies in the walls downstairs. Maître put him there.”
“Sorry.” I forced out a blunt apology. The last thing I needed was to throw away the good will that I’ve earned with someone in the coven.
“Oh, don’t be,” He refuses my apology before he adjusts his cloak, making sure that it sits perfectly on his shoulders, “he deserved his death… and his blood was exquisite. I’m a good mimic, and I can fly.”
“And, you kill with panache.”
…Maybe I’m layin’ it on too thick here, but if I’ve learned anything from Canary, it’s that a little flattery in a sweet voice can go a long way.
“Hmm,” Drysdale smiles at my compliment before he interrogates me further, “And your dearly departed maker, what gifts did he bequeath to the moppet vampiress?”
…That fuckin’ asshole didn’t give me shit, besides trauma and pain and misery.
“He taught me how to lie well.” I said.
It wasn’t the vampiric talents that Volt taught me of; rather, I learned the most despicable parts of human nature from that piece of work.
“You’ll make a fine actor, then.” Drysdale moves past me, one foot on the stairs and a hand on the railing, before he turns to face me once more. “It’s Eddie who’s from Chicago, yes?”
“Canary is,” I corrected him, “Eddie’s from Gary, Indiana. It’s right outside of the city.”
Drysdale simply hums in response, his lips curling up into a wicked smile.
“Stick with it, Puce. You’re almost there.”
~
“‘M evil, evil as any vampire who has ever lived,” Eyes locked with Amir, you continue to argue your point as your fingers curl around the glass that holds — much to your disappointment — sparkling cider, “I’ve killed over ‘n over, ‘n I will do it again.”
“Why doesn’t that make you as evil as any vampire?” Amir manages to match wits with you in a way that Eddie dreams of doing. He hasn’t met another man who could hold such a conversation with you since… “Aren’t there gradations to evil? Is evil a great, perilous gulf one falls into with the first sin?”
The bar around you is surrounded with a lively ambiance from the chatty groups of humans that are scattered around your trio. They don’t seem to take notice of your depressing philosophical conversation, and, if they do, they choose to listen to the piano player in the corner of the room instead of you and Amir.
“I mean, kinda?” Your eyes go upwards, and your tongue briefly juts out of your mouth as you think of a response. “It’s not as logical as you’re sayin’, but it’s dark ‘n it’s empty, ‘n I can’t see the bottom of it.”
“But if evil is without gradation, and it does exist,” Amir leans back, seeming to allow the cigarette between his fingers to burn to a nub without taking a single puff from it, “in this state of evil, then, only one sin is needed. That’s your argument.”
“Perhaps,” You give a non-committal answer, which causes Amir’s eyebrows to scrunch in frustration while Eddie softly chuckles at your prodding behavior, “The original sin is a concept that I’m familiar with.”
“Your argument is based upon the assumption that God exists.”
“I don’t know that God exists,” You lean in, wearing a confident smile as you go toe-to-toe with Amir, ”’n from what I saw in that fuckin’ war? …He doesn’t. Not the version that I grew up with, at least.”
“Then, surely, there are degrees and variations to goodness?” Amir, finally, takes a puff from his cigarette before it burns out entirely. “The goodness of the child, which is innocence. The goodness of the nun, who lives a life of self-deprivation and service. The goodness of the saints, the goodness of the midwives… and how is this evil achieved? How does one fall from grace?”
“You think you know all of the answers, don’t you?” You joke before you place a hand on Eddie’s forearm, causing him to jolt to attention. “Mon amour?”
“Don’t mind me, sweetheart.” Eddie presses a kiss to your cheek before he places his hand over yours. “You two can have your fun.”
“Morality and its relationship to religion is hardly a topic I’d refer to as fun,” Your eyes narrow as you look to Amir once more, “this conversation is in reference to myself, by the way.”
“Noble, to hold yourself to a higher standard than others,” Amir notes, “and I don’t mean to offend–”
“–you haven’t.” You softly say. “Though, I suppose we’ve argued this to death, haven’t we?”
“Maybe,” His subtle refusal to concede makes you crack a grin that Eddie adores seeing on your face, “still, I feel the need to apologize for my blunder, even if you don’t consider it a blunder.”
Amir reaches into his coat pocket to grab a floral handkerchief that he then hands to you.
“I was gifted this, a long time ago, by someone who I think will interest you.” Amir explains as your fingers trace the intricate designs on the fabric. “She spends a lot of time traveling abroad, but her art gallery is here, in Paris.”
“She?” If you weren’t intrigued before, you’re certainly intrigued now.
“Yes, she,” Amir confirms, and you’re out of your seat before he can speak again, “three doors down, on your right.”
“Ah,” You hold the handkerchief to your chest before a small flush covers your cheeks, “Thank you, Maître.”
“Have fun, pretty girl,” Eddie wishes you well as you bend down and press a kiss to his lips, “‘n come home before the sun rises, okay?”
“Ever the dutiful husband, Eddison.” You murmur against his lips. “I will. …‘Surprised that’s the only warnin’ you’re givin’ me.”
“You’re a big girl, Canary. You can handle yourself.” Eddie whispers, causing you to shudder. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” You then move towards Amir, but you only press two polite kisses to either sides of his cheeks, and he repeats this gesture towards you, “‘n thank you for this. I… think it’s time for me to try again.”
Eddie knows who you’re thinking of when you stare at the floral patterns in your hands, but he senses appreciation and tenderness in place of the normal regret and anger that you feel whenever you think of the woman who you associate with all kinds of flowers.
“Canary is an ever-shifting tide,” Amir says after you exit the bar, with a bit more pep in your step then what you had when you entered the establishment earlier, “I don’t understand how you understand her.”
“I don’t. It’s a part of her charm.” Eddie snorts lightly. “Canary is a force of nature, whether she knows it or not.”
“Unpredictable, but controlled and calculated when it comes to you or Harper,” Amir brings his cigarette to his mouth once more, “interesting indeed.”
“I–” There’s some sort of argument on Eddie’s lips, but it dies when he recognizes the voice singing and playing the piano at the same time.
Fuck. It wasn’t him, but now it sounds like him–
It’s melodic, tranquil, and terrifying, accompanied by white hair and a distinct air that sends chills down Eddie’s spine.
“You little whore~”
Volt wouldn’t say that, but that sure fucking sounds like Volt — at least to Eddie, it does.
“You only want him ‘cause you’re feeling blue.”
Eddie shouldn’t turn his head towards the stage… yet he does.
“Come to me.”
Volt’s just as alluring as the day Eddie met him, even though this version of Volt isn’t real, for fuck’s sake.
“He’ll never run his fingers through your hair the way I do,” Volt temporarily pauses his singing to glance at Eddie with a small smile on his face, “That’s quite good, isn’t it, mon chéri?”
Eddie doesn’t respond; instead, he looks to Amir, who studies the former’s face with an innate curiosity that makes Eddie sweat a bit.
“You’ll fumble each other–”
Eddie?
“Impotent lovers…”
Volt adlibs in the background as Eddie puts out his cigarette on the ash tray sitting upon the table.
“What?” Eddie comes off harsher than expected, which makes the older vampire smile a bit.
“There he is again.” Amir senses Volt in Eddie’s mind, just as Volt tries to call out to him with his singing once more — an endless cacophony of ‘Come to me’s that sound more like torture than beautiful poetry.
“I’m sorry.”
“And we were having such a lovely few hours, no?” Amir drums his fingers against the table — not nervously, not cockily, but something else entirely.
“I was with,” God, Harper’s lies are hard to force out on the spot. Eddie doesn’t know how you and your daughter do it, night after night, “Bruce for twenty years.”
“Bruce?” Amir speaks Eddie’s “maker’s” name with an incredible amount of toxic vile as his expression flattens from teasing to stoic. “How long are we going to play games, Eddie?”
Eddie bites his tongue. He bites it hard — he swears to God, or Jesus, or whatever fucking divine entity will drag his ass to hell, right where he thinks he belongs, that he tries to keep this information to himself — but the truth comes flowing out anyways.
“Volt–”
“–Before you say it,” Volt’s apparition appears in your seat, all of a sudden, leaning in to tell Eddie something of dire importance, “let me tell you a little something about eighteenth-century Amir.”
“Volt.” Eddie repeats himself, causing Volt to dramatically deflate into his chair.
“Oh, dear. Here we go.”
“Finally.” Amir sounds exasperated as he stares at Eddie through half-hooded eyelids.
“I’m tired of holdin’ on to it,” Eddie quietly admits, “Volt and Canary were my companions in America.”
“And where is he now?” Amir presses.
“Hmm, still a bookbinder’s wife?” Deeply unamused, Volt’s ghastly lookalike still tries to help Eddie, despite his betrayal. “He knows.”
“You know where he is.” Eddie shakily says before Amir lightly scoffs.
“I want you to say it.”
There’s a million things Eddie could say to make the situation sound better than it was.
“I killed him, ‘n he fuckin’ had it comin’.”
That? …That is not one of them.
“Well, that’s debatable.” Even from the grave, Volt can disagree with everything Eddie says. Goody.
“I’ve known for months,” Amir reveals, “I’ve just waited for you to say it.”
“And that means what? You gotta kill me now?” Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unable to sit still under the heated, heavy spotlight that is Amir’s gaze before he considers the other people who will be impacted by what he’s just revealed. “What does that mean for my girls?”
“Did Canary help him? Did Harper?” Amir asks two simple questions that Volt immediately answers, but only for Eddie’s ears.
“The child of fire is a born killer, but the small bird is incapable of killing the flies it needs to eat in order to survive–”
“–No.”
If this boat is capsizing, Eddie won’t let you and Harper sink with him.
“You broke one of the Great Laws.” Amir calmly says.
“I don’t know any Great Laws. Volt never told me — us — shit!” Eddie raises his voice before Volt softens his.
“I told you I loved you–”
“–shut up.” Eddie hisses back, ignoring the strange looks he gets from the patrons that are sitting around him.
“Calm down.” Amir tries to stop something that’s already been set in motion, but he can’t.
No one can.
“And you said nothing back,” There’s an immeasurable amount of heartbreak in Volt’s voice as he speaks, “did you, Eddie?”
Grief. Pain. Heartbreak. Regret. Agony. Longing. Love. Lust. Horror. Trauma. Abuse. The cyclic nature of it all. The beating drum of time. The curse of immortality.
It all pours out of Eddie in one single phrase, directed towards the man he both hates and adores —
“Bordel de merde!”
— And he’s out the door before Amir can confront him.
~
“You are not French.”
“Is it the accent, the clothes, or the hair?” You joke back to the mysterious feminine voice as you continue to stare at the entrancing art piece in front of you.
It’s… for a lack of better words, abstract. Splotches of color poured onto a white canvas for the hell of it. You never expected to see something like this when you walked into this intimate little art gallery a few minutes ago.
Perhaps you’re drawn to the chaos of it all. Maybe there’s something calming in all of that — maybe it’s the way you know that the overlap of the red and blue streaks of paint will always create purple, or how you can make out a woman’s face, a pair of bunny ears, and a hand from the same set of brush strokes.
“Your mannerism, mademoiselle.” Heels click, signaling her approach, and you feel a wave of calmness crash over you once she stands at your side. “Americans carry themselves with a certain… openness that the French have not been able to afford for a long time.”
“You don’t sound French, either,” You accuse, immediately noticing how, for a lack of better words, rough her pronunciation of the word ‘mademoiselle’ was, “and it’s madame.”
“Married?” This mysterious woman’s eyes look you up and down as yours stay glued to the art piece in front of you. “You seem quite young.”
“‘M older than most would assume.” You say, trying to temper the anger that threatens to rise through your voice.
You’re not a child, and you weren’t turned as a child. Why, then, do some people insist on treating you like a child?
…You’ll never judge Harper for reacting harshly to this type of treatment. It fucking sucks.
“I think we have that in common.”
Her allure is too strong, so you dare to look over at the woman who’s standing beside you. Your fingers twist around the floral handkerchief in your hands as you admire the way her blue hair falls effortlessly down her shoulders. It nearly blends into the dress that is an identical shade of blue to her hair, the fabric falling all the way down to her feet.
She is beautiful. She’s the beauty you see in an advertisement or an old photograph or a ladies’ magazine or–
“–you’re staring, honey.” Her voice is smooth and soft, yet strong and sure. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes, uh…” You answer instantaneously, handing her the piece of decorated cloth that Amir gave you, “I was out with my husband and a… business partner, and the gentleman said to look for a woman who–”
“–Miss Canary, I am well aware of the nature of the developing relationship between Eddie and Amir,” The woman must notice the horror scrawled on your face as she quickly works to undo that with her next statement, “I am the… friend Amir told you about.”
“Does this friend have a name?” You bite your lip, playing a little coy as your eyes shine with enthusiasm.
“I see why your husband is so enthralled with you. You are a very enchanting person, Miss Canary.” She compliments you, causing your face to flush before she finally reveals her name to you. “My name is River.”
“River,” You slowly repeat her name, “It’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.”
“I do believe that I’m in the presence of a pretty girl as well,” River flirts right back with you, causing you to smile warmly as you contain a bit of shy laughter, “I see why Amir sent you to me.”
“‘M startin’ to get that, too,” You finally notice the harsh blueness of her eyes, once you’re done swooning, “‘n ‘m guessin’ that you’re a…?”
“Amir and I go back a long time.” River explains. “He ran the Parisian coven, while I had… other pursuits to attend to.”
“Like art?” You point to the piece in front of you. “It might seem like nothin’ to most people, but I see your vision, findin’ meanin’ in the nothingness that surrounds us.”
“Feel free to take it with you.”
“Excuse me?” You blink rapidly before you refuse River’s offer. “I couldn’t ask you to part with somethin’ like this ‘cause ‘m a little partial to it. You run an art gallery, Ms. River–”
“–and this piece has been sitting on this very wall for months. I think it needs a new home, with a woman who will cherish it for the rest of her life,” River walks forward and plucks the artwork off of the wall before she hands it to you, “this might be a selfish ask, but I do hope you’ll think of me whenever you find yourself transfixed by it.”
“I will.” You promise as you hold the canvas to your chest. “Thank you. It means a lot, that you’d trust me with somethin’ that you poured your heart ‘n soul into.”
“The person most suited to appreciate one’s art is another artist… or so I’m told,” River briefly stumbles over her words before she recovers, “I know of your own pursuits, Canary. I have connections — many connections — and I can help you publish your work.”
“Ms. River, that’s… too kind of you,” You narrow your eyes, suddenly feeling a little suspicious of her, “How do you know all of this, anyways?”
“My connections,” She gives a vague answer, “You don’t have to take me up on that offer, but I hope you’ll consider it if you plan on seeing me again. My handiness isn’t limited to my artwork, lapinou.”
“Ah!” Your face is hotter than a furnace as you immediately understand what she means. “I suppose I’ll have to see that in action, won’t I?”
“I suppose you will. I hear that a writer’s creativity is unmatched in all settings,” River laughs when you softly whine at her teasing, “You can find the address to my private studio on the back of the canvas. I think these matters are best discussed in a one-on-one setting.”
“I agree,” You say, but you can’t help but ask one last thing, “did you expect to meet me tonight?”
“Yesterday, today, tomorrow… they’re all the same, aren’t they?” River stares at her stained fingertips before she wipes them on the handkerchief in her hands. “I think we would’ve crossed paths naturally, but I wanted to speed up the process.”
“And this isn’t a–”
“–a trick, a game, a ruse, a test, a trap?” River tuts after the last option. “No. Not every vampire wishes to manipulate and gain power over his fellow blood-drinkers. Some of us still hold onto the parts that make us mortal. Our art, our stories, our loves…”
“I like you, Ms. River,” You confess, “and I sincerely hope you’re not fucking me over.”
“I hope so too, Ms. Canary,” River offers you a polite wave as you exit her gallery, “Good night, lapinou.”
read part two here!
Stayed up until 5 am finishing a final and I’m at that level of stress where you need ao3 before bed. Stumbled upon chapter 3 of Power Surges and all is well in the world🙏🙏Your writing is peak. I will probably be embarrassed tmr when i remember I sent this ok gn
What better way to relax then a little bit of fluff with the boys? 😌 I did read that fic a few times over while I was going through the horrors that was my last ever? exam week, so I'm happy that you got some enjoyment out of that little drabble :]
thank you so, so much for sending in an ask. I was in a writing slump for about a month, and thanks to this ask plus a few ao3 comments, I managed to finish a chapter of my latest series, so thank you for that <33
hopefully you're resting and enjoying some time off of school right now! I know I am. (when I'm not worrying my head off about landing a job since I'm out of school ;-;)
WIP Wednesday!
hello!!!! I am not dead. :] currently I am in the trenches between a sudden respiratory illness that took my family out of commission for a whole week and the last few weeks of the semester before I graduate college 😵💫 BUT I am slowly, albeit very slowly, making progress on the next IWTV chapter. please bare with me over the next few weeks as I try to get my life back together <33
tagged by @blackbirdofasgard!
small snippet from the next IWTV chapter, enjoy!!
“Eddie has a good eye,” Amir finally manages to catch Eddie’s eye, and when he does, he smiles gently, causing Eddie’s face to heat up, “The waters of the Seine are contained and beautiful. A vein, winding through the heart of Paris.”
Amir takes your free hand so you can lift up the skirt of your dress as you walk down the stone stairway that leads to the scenic riverwalk that Eddie has taken far too many pictures of.
Well, the riverwalk is more of a background. You’re the main focus of his compositions, and that doesn’t change as he lingers towards the middle of the stairway, snapping a few quick photos of you as you beam at Amir.
If only I could make you see yourself through my eyes, mon ange. Then you’d understand how beautiful ‘n special you are to me.
eyes without a face
a/n: this may be the last fic for a little while cause I got grabbed by the back of my neck before I was dragged into a new fandom LMAOOOO so now I have to get a fic idea or two out of my brain before I can refocus on the boys but trust I will be back!
relationship: ghostface! eddie x ghostface! volt x ghostface! afab! gn! reader
series masterlist || ao3 series
cws: this isn't exactly smut but it's pretty fucking close to it. HEAVY stalking themes, mentions of murder, blood, and gore with no explicit action done, intrusive, violent thoughts, possessive and obsession, makeout sessions, dom! wire action, someone gets a belt shoved in their mouth, the boys then get tied together with said belt LMAO, crude sexual humor
summary: eddie and volt find an old camera in that old storage unit. after reminiscing over old photos of you, they decide to put it into action once more. The result? It's much better than they would expect. — 4.6k words! [read on ao3!]
Inappropriate and disgusting.
That's what Eddie and Volt should be feeling as they stare at the boxes upon boxes of Polaroid photos of you.
Taken without consent, through a loving lens that was pointed at you and only you.
That camera — the one they swore to never pick up again after you were theirs — tempts Volt as he glances at the dates on the back of the square photographs.
“We didn't come for those.” Eddie grumbles as he, too, is enamored with their previous work.
Long ago, in a basement that was locked to you, these photos were proudly hung opposite the wall of those marked for death. Two shrines to you, with opposite meanings. One of life, one of death.
“Darling, what do you have in your hands?” Volt chuckles when Eddie blushes, quickly dropping the photos as he begins to wander around the storage unit for the item that they came here for.
They've both forgotten by now. Their minds are clear of any other objectives or goals when your name or face is mentioned or shown. You’re the shining star of their life, spark. Flaunt it!
“You took most of those photos.” Eddie points out. “I… like how they look in ‘em.”
“Of course you do! They're simply magnificent, and our spark's radiance is captured so well,” Volt excitedly shows one of his favorite images to Eddie, “do you remember this one?”
Eddie shakes his head, smiling ever-so-slightly after he snatches the photo from Volt's grasp.
You were wearing an oversized crew neck that belonged to Volt along with a pair of Eddie's pajama pants. You had a soft expression on your face as you were caught slumbering, cradling Volt's arm to your chest as he held you without the expectation of something in return.
Back then, a simple touch from you was enough to ignite their skin. What they wouldn't have done for a second of your time, or the smallest caress to their forearm as you walked past them…
It was a peaceful yet exciting night. You were preparing to leave this hellscape that you grew up in, with your best friends at your side, and you were thrilled at the idea of starting a new life with them.
That night, a week out from your departure date, you were clingier than usual. Perhaps it was the trace amounts of alcohol flowing through your system, but you were holding onto your boys like you needed them to breathe. Eddie and Volt needed you that badly, but they did their best to temper their desires as you nuzzled into their chest and placed chaste kisses on their cheeks.
You were going to be the death of them, little wire. How could give them such sweet affection yet be so clueless of their admiration, respect, and love for you?
Such a rare outburst of energy from you had tired you out, and between the warm bodies pinning you to the couch and the low volume of the TV that was playing some low-budget indie horror film, you were out like a light.
Volt slung an arm over you, admiring the way your fingers curled around his bicep as you used him as both a pillow and a blanket.
“Cute.” Eddie murmured, brushing some hair out of your face as you slept peacefully.
There was no worry of high school tormentors when you were with Eddie and Volt. They had taken care of an unfortunately large amount of bullies, with more to be disposed of in the future. Although you felt safe with your boys, those assholes still haunted your dreams and made your life a living hell, even after you graduated.
But a night of fitful sleep was not in the cards for you. Not on this very night. Tonight, you were allowed to rest, as you deserved to, and your boys weren't going to take that from you.
They were, however, going to snap a photo to… celebrate the occasion. Many photos were taken in a similar manner when you were unconscious, snuggling up to your boys as sweet nothings fell from your lips. Every single one was near and dear to their hearts, and those photos served as a reminder of why they killed all of those people.
Volt just had to wipe a little drool away, so you weren't embarrassed if this photo ever managed to make its way in front of your eyes.
Which it wouldn't, if they were careful enough.
“You picked one of mine on purpose.” Eddie shoots as he carefully sets the photo aside, as to not harm your pretty, sleeping face.
“You're in a foul mood, Eddison,” Volt hums as he selects yet another picture, “you want our little light to be here with us.”
“I miss them.” Eddie admits as he crouched down to look at the labels of a few boxes, trying to remember what they came into the storage unit for. “Is that such a fucking crime? …Wish they would've stayed with us.”
“I feel the same,” Volt murmurs before he chuckles under his breath, “ah, this one is adorable! Look at them, Eddie. Aren't they precious?”
“The one from under the gym bleachers,” Eddie guesses, not even looking away from the cardboard boxes, “you almost got us caught.”
It was far too easy to sneak out of class and set up the camera in-between the steel bleachers. Such an act was done under the pretense of keeping an eye on you as you interacted with your peers during gym class.
But, of course, if the camera happened to go off in the process and they caught a few photos of you as sweat caused your shirt and shorts to cling tightly to your body…
Staying out of the way was your survival tactic as your peers “accidentally” kicked soccer balls at your head. Deniability was the game, as any injuries could be brushed away as innocent actions, so you took yourself out of play. A bit of scolding from your teacher for not participating was fine by you, if it meant that you were spared from the bloody noses and endless bruises that cascaded down your arms and legs as a result of your peers’ harassment.
Eddie and Volt scowled as you awkwardly hugged yourself, trying to make yourself smaller to avoid garnering any attention from your peers. How dare they mock and belittle a god among mere, puny mortals?
Volt still snapped picture after picture, trying to find a flattering angle despite the misery that was scrawled across your face. An emotion that was quickly wiped away when someone offered to play with you, one-on-one, without throwing a ball at your head.
You lit up like a Christmas tree, happily accepting their invitation as you kicked the ball to your new friend, who chatted you up as you kicked the ball back-and-forth.
Numerous pictures of you smiling — a rare sight indeed, especially in these days — were taken that afternoon, although your boys disagreed on which one was the best.
“Darling, they look so divine in this one,” Volt's thumb carefully caresses your face, as if that singular touch would hurt you in real life if he applied too much pressure, “do you see how the sun is striking their features?”
“I like the one where they're pouting,” Eddie chuckled, “they're cute when they don't get their way.”
“Our spark is quite-”
“-You two spying on me?” You joked as both of your boys jumped at the sound of your voice. “Easy, killer, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you two working on that photography project that we were assigned?”
“Yes-”
“-No.”
The contradicting answers from Volt and Eddie caused your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.
“Okay,” You brushed off their weird behavior as you twiddle your thumbs, “uh, anyways, I was wondering if you guys wanted to skip last period since you're already here? I was thinking we could try that new restaurant in town, or we could go to that one spot where we…”
You rattled off endless memories as Volt distracted you with a few well-timed questions. You never noticed the photos that were taken that day, nor did you bring the matter to their attention ever again. Once again, your friends, then lovers, got away scot-free.
“You wanna know which one is my favorite?” Eddie asks, a light smile on his face from the flush that Volt wears in response, “check the bottom of the first box.”
“The one with the camera?” Volt questions. “There aren't any… oh. Oh.”
A soft pink hue spreads across his cheeks as he admires daring, scandalous, and undeniably stalker-ish photos of you.
Ones where you're caught changing, with a wide-open window that displays all to the world. Not that they'd allow any living person to grace their eyes upon your naked flesh — they'd be killed before they had a chance to act upon such improper and imprudent thoughts.
No, this was a simple act of observing your behavior. Nothing more, nothing less. Just, uh… don't ask them why they were taking photos of you for two hours straight when they could've knocked on your door and talked to you during that time.
You should really learn to close your bedroom window when you’re changing, live wire. While your neighbors aren’t really looking, someone else could be. Someone with nefarious intentions and far too much free time on their hands.
That’s not Eddie and Volt, though. They’re just watching out for you, spark! Every hour of every day may be a little excessive, but it’s all done out of love and heartfelt devotion to the cause of protecting you and your heart.
Repeated shuttering of the camera lens captured every motion of yours as you paced in your childhood bedroom. You still haven’t put a shirt on — to Volt and Eddie’s delight and dismay — and they were quick to duck into the foliage in your backyard as you peered out of your window.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, your focus went back to your bedroom as their eyes studied, dissected, and admired you, all in one go.
“Ah,” Eddie produces a sharp blade from one of the boxes, “thank God we have an extra. Hard to believe live wire lost theirs in some guy’s chest.”
“Uh-huh,” Volt hums as he holds the camera to his chest, “are you ready to go?”
“Are you seriously taking that-”
“-it wouldn’t hurt to see if it still works, right?” Volt winks at his companion. “C’mon, darling, we must capture our spark in action!”
~
A stakeout isn’t exactly the most romantic of dates, but Eddie and Volt manage to make such an occasion feel amorous through rose-tinted glasses.
Everything is romantic and passionate when it comes to you, live wire. Especially when it comes to the killing sprees!
Eddie’s parked the car as close as he can to the apartment building that holds Chance’s — God, why does it always have to be him? — apartment. Inside, you and your three annoyances that you call friends are hosting a GnG night since you couldn’t find an open room on campus.
Couldn’t find an open room? Really? That’s the shitty excuse he gave you in order to bring you back to his apartment, where he could-
They don’t like to think of those possibilities. Your love was assured and requited towards them. You’d never leave the loves of your life, the only two people in the world who would kill for you, for someone like Chance, right?
…Murder isn’t off the table when it comes to disposing of him.
Tonight, however, isn’t about the slaughter. After retrieving the camera, they parked as close as they could to his apartment. Thank God they put that tracker in your phone so they could find you anywhere, at any time.
They’ve come to get you, spark. You can come home and spend some time with your boyfriends because you want to do that as much as they do, right?
Your boys aren’t exactly sure which apartment is his until a curtain is pulled back on a second-story window, revealing your body to them in all of its glory.
With more clothes than they’d like, but that issue can be dealt with at home and in private.
You wear a cautious look on your face as you glance outside, not spotting Eddie’s car as he had turned off the headlights for that very purpose. The idea of the camera was to use it as a spyglass or binoculars, but Volt’s lost his way and he immediately starts snapping photos once you’re in sight.
“Volt-”
“-Eddie,” He repeats in a similar tone, “Look at them! Aren’t they spectacular?”
“I know they are,” Eddie grumbles before the lens shutters once more, “you’re going to get us caught.”
“They’ll never know we were here, darling.” Volt reassures his literal partner-in-crime. “Not until they need us to be.”
As if on cue, Eddie’s phone buzzes as you hold your phone up to your ear, and he rushes to answer, nearly dropping his phone in the process.
“Spark?”
“Hey,” Your voice is calm and smooth as you run your fingers through your hair, “Eddie, I’m sorry that I’m calling you so late-”
“-I’m still awake,” Eddie reassures you, “You need something?”
“Well, I…. I-” Volt watches you chew on your bottom lip through the lens, and he snaps a quick picture of your cute expression. “Can you come pick me up? I know I said I’d stay overnight, but I miss you and Volt. I wanna go home.”
“Home?” Eddie repeats in partial disbelief before he seizes the opportunity. “We’ll come and get you. Hold tight.”
“We? No, Eddie, you don’t have to wake Volt up-”
“-It’s too late for that, my light,” Volt speaks into the phone after Eddie hands it to him, “our minds stir when you aren’t with us. I’m afraid we would’ve answered your call at any hour. Especially the later ones.”
“Do you know where Chance lives? I can give you an address if you need it.”
Your hand falls to your waist, holding yourself as a poor substitute for your boyfriend’s touches as Volt tries to give an answer that won’t give away their exact location.
They’re already here, spark. If you turned your phone flashlight on, you’d see them.
“You’re only a few blocks away, dearest, I’m positive that we can-”
The address hurriedly spills from your lips anyways as you press your hand to the glass pane separating you from them.
“-I’ll watch for you.”
…Well, shit.
“You don’t have to, baby.” Eddie snatches the camera from Volt, who hums in disappointment. “Stay inside.”
“But-” You cut yourself off when you look towards the interior of the department. “Hey, I gotta go. Call me when you get here, yeah? Love you!”
Those two words that make their hearts sing are issued from your lips before you hang up the phone, running back towards your friends who seem more determined than ever to separate you from Volt and Eddie.
“Look at our spark,” Volt nudges Eddie’s shoulder to show him the various Polaroid pictures that he’s collected through an impromptu photograph session, “imagine how the lens would capture their naked beauty.”
“Stop-”
“-you’re thinking about them squirming underneath you as their face scrunches up. You’d be able to capture their essence — their beauty — for eternity.” Volt paints a lovely picture that makes Eddie softly groan as he looks at the camera in his hands. “Or, I could capture you while you’re in the midst of pleasuring our little wire.”
“Fuck, Volt,” Eddie starts the engine of his car, turning the headlights on before Volt reaches for his phone, “you’re gonna make me rip their clothes off the moment we get home.”
“Isn’t that the dream?” Volt hums before he looks out of the front window. “It seems like someone was eager to make an escape.”
“Eddie!” You’re so excited to see them as you stick your arms through the open window on Eddie’s side. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“You’re welcome,” He takes your hands in his, blushing when you lean in to kiss his lips, “you ready to go home?”
“Uh-huh,” You nod before your eyes meet Volt’s, “Whatcha got, honey?”
Volt answers you by taking a close-up, and you quickly hide your face with your hands as you softly whine.
“Stop it,” You groan as you throw your things in the back before you lean against Eddie's side of the car, “you know I don’t like people taking pictures of me. I had enough of it when we were kids.”
“You are effortlessly stunning, live wire,” Volt quickly scoops up the photos in his lap and places them in the glove compartment, “can't we memorialize such beauty in ink?”
“You can, I just…” You trail off as you open the door, and Eddie has enough foresight to move the seat back before you make a home for yourself on his lap, “Don't take photos of me without my permission, okay?”
They have hundreds, if not thousands, of photos that violate that very rule.
“Of course, darling,” Volt purrs as he places a supportive hand on your thigh, “You're tense.”
“There's a reason I decided to leave,” You roll your eyes before you place your hands on Eddie's shoulder, “and I'd like the two of you to help me forget it.”
…They can definitely do that.
~
“Volt, can you help me look for something?”
The man in question is off of the couch in mere seconds, nearly sprinting into your room because you beckoned him forth. Eddie chuckles at his partner’s eagerness, as if he wouldn’t have the same reaction to his name falling from your lips.
You’ve been in your room all morning as you chewed through hours upon hours of homework that was put on hold due to the murderous activities that you participated in last night.
Calculus can wait when you’ve got people to slice and dice!
So, hearing from you after an extended period of silence was like music to your lovers’ ears, and Volt slides inside of your room with practiced ease.
They miss you whenever you’re out of sight. Why must the simplest of things pull you away from them?
“My sweet spark, how may I be of assistance?” He asks before his eyes scan your body, feasting upon the lack of clothing that you wear upon your upper half.
“You helped me sort my laundry last time, yeah?” You flit about your room, throwing clothes out of your dressers as you wait for Volt to respond. “Do you know where that shirt went? The one I always wear on my days off, with the fancy design on it?”
“Ah…” A pink blush dusts Volt’s cheeks as you stop to stretch, subtly flexing your muscles in a way that makes Volt wish that he could run his tongue up and down the surface of your skin. “Have you tried your closet?”
“I haven’t, but I usually don’t put that shirt with my other clothes since I don’t wear it to school or work,” You speak your thoughts aloud as you wander to the other side of your room after sidestepping your boyfriend, who’s still shamelessly staring at you, “Oh, there it is!”
You toss the hanger aside before you throw the shirt on your body, and then you hug your savior before you look up at him with gooey, affectionate eyes.
“Is something the matter?” You run a finger down the middle of Volt’s chest, causing him to shudder. “You’ve barely spoken.”
“Would you like me to speak your praise into the air, as that is all that I can think of at the moment?” His hand falls to your waist, “Or, would you like to find a better use for my mouth?”
“Could I?” You tease, slowly backing towards your bed as you keep your eyes on me. “Why don’t you tell me what you could do with that mouth of yours?”
“Do you not wish to direct my every action and movement, spark? Does it not entice you to have me exactly as you wish?”
Volt’s words clearly entice you, as a sudden move from your end causes you to pin Volt against the bed.
“Oh, Volt, honey,” You play with a few strands of his white hair that have been splayed against your bedsheets, “can you handle what I have in mind for you?”
“Devious and darling,” Volt’s hands settle on your hips, “The perfect concoction to ruin us.”
“Mentally ruined,” You challenge, “and I think it’s about time that I physically ruined you, don’t you think?”
Yes. Absolutely. Why haven’t you done this sooner?
You and Volt are tearing at each other’s clothes, happily smashing your lips and bodies together as you ignore the sound of a door creaking open.
Eddie leans against the doorway as he observes the amorous sight in front of him. You and Volt are a living masterpiece as you move in perfect time with each other, anticipating the other’s movement before they can speak it into the air.
Surely, you wouldn’t notice him taking a few photos if you’re busy with Volt, right?
Eddie might not have Volt’s artistic eye — or an artistic bone to be found in his body — but Eddie can quickly figure out an angle that shows the best of you and Volt as you disrobe each other of your clothing.
You start with Volt, peeling his shirt off of his frame before your hands wander his expansive chest in pure excitement and lust. Kiss after kiss is placed on his chest, and your head moves lower and lower until your teeth pull on the belt of his pants.
“Mine,” You growl, batting away Volt’s hands when he attempts to assist you, “lay down. I’ve got this.”
Self-assured in killing AND in sexual situations — good for you!
You manage just fine on your own, pulling his leather belt off with just your teeth and tongue before you toss it onto the floor.
“May I ask what I’m in for,” Volt tilts his head at you, eyes shining with curiosity and adoration as he tries to decipher what’s going on in that mind of yours, “or, am I in the for the shock of my-”
He’s cut off by you shoving his belt into his mouth, and you laugh in manic excitement before your head snaps back towards Eddie.
“Put the camera away, Eddie,” You coo at him before you hold a hand out to your other boyfriend, “you won’t wanna miss this.”
“Live wire, I-”
“-I know what you and Volt have been doing with that camera. I’ve known it for months — do you really think I left my window open by accident?” You wear a devious smile as Eddie shuts the door behind him. “I’m not stupid. So, how long have you two been up to this, huh?”
Eddie awkwardly sets the camera on a nearby dresser as Volt locks eyes with you but doesn’t dare to answer as he’s already looking forward to the reward of behaving for you.
“Fine,” You cross your arms as you look from Volt to Eddie, “first one to answer gets to eat me out.”
“It started when we were kids.” Eddie quickly answers before Volt lets out a small whine.
“You’ll get your turn,” You softly chide Volt before you kiss him on the cheek and lay him against the bed with your hands on your shoulders, “if you’re really good, I’ll let Eddie come inside of me so you can have an extra special treat. Deal?”
Volt frantically nods his head as you turn your attention to Eddie.
“Now, Eddie,” You say his name with a certain emphasis that brings heat to his face, “why don’t you tell me what you did with those pictures, huh? Did you get off to them?”
“What do you want me to say, baby?” Eddie murmurs as he sits next to you and Volt, pulling you into his lap as he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder.
“The truth.” Your hand goes underneath his chin before you force him to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to lie to me. Not anymore.”
“Do you really want to know what we,” Eddie elects himself as the spokesperson since Volt’s a little… tied up at the moment, “do to those photos when you’re not around?”
His hands settle on your hips as his gaze softens — an opportunity for you to give them control, if that’s what you want.
“Knowing you two?” You chuckle as your lips sit next to the shell of Eddie’s ear. “This ought to be good.”
You don’t relinquish control; instead, you savour the way Eddie shivers as your hands trace down his back. He can sense there’s some sort of temptation inside of you to tear their clothes to shreds, as they do to you, but you take a gentler approach as you remove Eddie’s shirt from his body.
Your lips meet his in a ravenous kiss that you both melt into before you pull away, placing a finger on Eddie’s lips to stop him from taking anything else to you.
“Answer my question, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“It… wasn’t about the photos. We wanted you, spark.” Eddie softly groans when you move your fingers to the back of his neck, placing the tiniest amount of pressure on the sorest part of his body. “You were right there, and we couldn’t have you.”
“I wanted you,” You press a kiss to his forehead, “and Volt the whole time. I was so scared of what you’d think of me. That you’d hate me because I was a monster.”
Volt loudly hums, expressing his stark disapproval for your words as Eddie presses open-mouthed kisses to the column of your neck.
“We’re here,” He mumbles in-between kisses, “and we’re not going anywhere, you understand me? It’s us against the world.”
It really is, isn’t it?
It’s hard to decipher what’s going on in that mind of yours, besides beautiful displays of the most horrific of crimes, but you seem to like that answer as you softly chuckle to yourself.
“Don’t go. Even if I push you away, I don’t mean it.” You put your arms up so Eddie can remove the shirt that you just found, causing Volt to mumble his protests against the belt in his mouth. “Aww, honey, you got something you wanna say?”
You’re, for the moment, kind enough to pull the belt from his mouth — not without a little playful tugging on his end before his teeth let go of it — before you admire the accessory in your hand.
“We are yours, darling,” Volt props himself up on his elbows, willingly giving you his hand without questioning why you would need it, “yours to use and love and torture and adore.”
“Uh-huh.” You stick your tongue out in concentration as you grab Eddie’s hand next, and before either boy can object, you’ve tied their hands together using Volt’s belt. “Perfect.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie doesn’t understand the game you’re playing until you giggle like a maniac as you pull them both closer.
“I don’t know,” You raise an eyebrow as you look from Eddie to Volt, “why don’t you find out?”
You dissolve into pure laughter as the three of you collapse on the bed, content to explore each other’s bodies for the rest of the night.
They might not capture a picture of their spark when they’re happiest, but witnessing such a thing is enough to warm their hearts.
An Interview with the Vampire - Chapter/Episode Eleven: I'm the Powder, You're the Fuse [Part Two]
a/n: here's part two!
<- read part one!
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; vampire! amir x vampire! fem! reader
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
cws: period-typical misogyny, brothels, prostitution, alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, crude/sexual humor, murder, gore, violence, blood, religious guilt, religious themes, age gap relationship, soft dom! Eddie, sub! afab! reader, oral sex, consensual somnophilia, toxic/unhealthy relationship, insecurities about reader’s body, reader is mocked for their weight, implied behaviors associated with eating disorders, internalized misogyny, unreliable narrators, emetophobia warning, domestic violence is referenced, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, fasting/starvation, slut-shaming, assumed main character death, hallucinations, generalized descriptions of the horrors of war, spoilers for s2ep2 of amc’s iwtv! some very disturbing/abusive/toxic behaviors will be discussed and possibly romanticized. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED‼️‼️‼️
summary: Paris. The city of dreams. You, Eddie, and Harper have differing dreams from each other, but you all seem to be enjoying your time in the city. Then, one night, you and Eddie encounter, and your world flips upside down once more. You’re thrust into the limelight of Theatre Des Vampires with a coven that’s connected to a certain vampire more than you’d like. A dangerous game of cat and mouse ensues, and the most likely suspect gets caught in the rat trap. Dolly’s, uh… not buying this lovey-dovey shit. Eddie and Amir can say what they want, but the written words of you and your daughter tell a completely different story. She pokes, prods, and snarks like usual, until she goes a little too far. That’s when Eddie starts to poke at her memories, leading her down uncharted territory. - 28.9k overall! [read on ao3!]
“Real Assad. Just in time for the big meet cute,” Dolly chuckles when Eddie’s assistant sets down a black box in front of her, “What weirdness have you brought us today?”
“The Paris Albums, nineteen forty-six to nineteen forty-nine.” Assad sets down a pair of white gloves for Dolly to wear, and she happily discards them in favor of using her hands.
“Oh, you really shouldn’t wear gloves when handling historical documents, Real Assad. It reduces dexterity-”
“-it’s just Assad-”
“-makes it more likely that you’ll rip a page in the item being examined,” Dolly examines the first few photos of you and Harper after Assad opens the box, and she frowns when it’s immediately evident to her that your smiles are genuine, as are Harper’s blank stares and occasional grimaces, “So? What am I lookin’ at?”
“Thank you, Assad,” Eddie dismisses his assistant before he continues, “those photos recorded the passage of time. They’re outward evidence for what you’ve read, and what I’ve told you.”
“They do not lie,” Amir assures her, “but neither do they tell you a thorough story.”
Dolly continues to sort through the photos until she finds a still shot of a man that she doesn’t recognize, then another of a different man, and another, and another.
“Who are the young men? Vampires?”
“Those were our… young friends,” Eddie chuckles, “humans.”
“Some are very old now, most are dead.” Amir picks up, leaving little unsaid. “And some we simply drained for sport. Well… generally me. Eddie has his ways.”
Eddie softly smiles when Amir places a hand on his back, and Dolly can’t quite pick up what’s going on with them, so she goes back to the one account that she actually trusts — yours.
It was a quiet, still night in the park. Eddie held the umbrella for me, so my hand was free to hold his. No one thought differently of a husband and wife who walked together, in perfect harmony with their breaths and footsteps. Uncanny, maybe? But nothing more. Not anything that would draw suspicion.
I appreciated the lack of conversation from Eddie. His words usually only came after mine, and I was especially thankful for that on this very night. I had plenty to think on.
Harper’s words had struck a deep cord in me. What would my life be like if I hadn’t met Eddie when I was nineteen? Would I still be on the streets of New Orleans, or would I be living my life elsewhere? Would I still be alive, or would the cruelty and unfair ways of the world have taken my soul from this plane to the next before I had a chance to protest such treatment?
I really should stop thinking of such things. This is supposed to be us starting over, yet I’m bringing up old hatchets that have been buried for years. Focus on the good, Canary. There’s plenty of it around you, in your heart, and in your companions. You just have to be open to seeing it.
“You could tell from the way they walked,” Amir muses, snapping Dolly out of her reading-induced trance, “Americans.”
“I’m an American.” Her brows furrow. “What exactly is an American walk?”
“Two wars had left an impression on the French. There was no other way to describe it other than… optimistic.”
The roses are lovely this time of year. I hadn’t thought of them blooming — hadn’t thought of such frivolous things in years because of the war we were trapped in — but they were truly a sight for the eyes to feast upon. Speckles of red dust the green ferns that they rest against.
I should pester Eddie for more greenery in our little home. Surely, he would not mind yet another plant on the balcony, no?
My eyes were drawn to the fountain, despite the water falling around our feet. It stood unapologetically strong, blasting water into pretty arcs that reflected bits and pieces of the moonlight. Prismatic colors must be reflected in the strength of the sunlight, but that is a secret for the mortals to keep to themselves, I suppose.
All of this beauty in the world, all of these wonderful things springing up in my mind at once should’ve been a sign of what was to come that evening. Not an event, not another catastrophe caused by a natural force or a man that should be classified as one.
No, this was different. Pleasant, even. A reminder to never stop looking, even when all appears hopeless.
“When I read the minds of our neighbors, they often mentioned that park,” Eddie murmurs, watching Dolly’s eyes scan the pages of your diary, “She loved to look at the flowers that people had arranged-”
“-a florist would’ve drooled at the display on your balcony.” Amir chuckles, lightly patting Eddie’s leg. “I brought a bouquet of rhododendrons with me as a peace offering. …I had lost patience with the Americans, convinced we were being toyed with. I could hold back the coven only so long.”
“From kidnapping Mrs. Watts?” Dolly smiles, attempting a joke that falls right onto its face. “Oh, you were serious when you said that.”
“She was the topic of envy and desire, sometimes both,” Amir shrugs, “I heard of the park that the two were exploring. It was… well-known among young men and women for being a place of passion, if you will. It did not surprise me that the girl wasn’t with them.”
“A hook-up spot.” Dolly harshly corrects. “What was the plan?”
“My idea was to approach the eldest two vampires, and make them aware of the ways rogue vampires were dealt with in Paris.” He ignores Dolly, choosing to reminisce with his lover instead.
A dark stretch of path, illuminated by streetlights. Meaningless chatter shared between lovers. I do enjoy hearing Eddie’s thoughts, but… sometimes I don’t listen. A terrible thing for a wife to admit, I know. My husband is my world, and he would give me the world if it pleased me, but what pleases him? Eddie’s been a shell of himself since Volt…
I didn’t think I’d stumble upon the answer tonight. An answer that presented itself with flickering lamps and a chilly breeze that sent shivers down my spine. Eddie had an arm around my waist, a hand placed over mine on my stomach as we both protected our unborn child. Even in the dullest of moments, he thinks of her. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to want him to think of me in the same way.
Anyways, a man in a grey suit, with a matching grey hat, slowly strolled up to the two of us. He lacked the practice confidence of Volt, or the quiet self-assuredness that faded from Eddie’s walk as the years tore more and more of our souls out of our body. He looked…
I shouldn’t say it, but I must. These are my thoughts, and I should be honest with myself.
He looked like a boy, masquerading as a gentleman.
Dolly snorts at your first impression of Amir.
I sensed his ancient power right away. This was a being not to be trifled with. One of us, perhaps? I’d have to get a closer look at his eyes, to see if they’re like mine or Eddie’s.
“Eddie was… awkward.” Amir adds. “The girl was quiet and unsure of herself. Rocking back and forth on her feet, waiting for something to occur between us. They thought they could blend in as American tourists, disappearing into the landscape around them. It was absurd.”
Dolly flips the page, not asking for more of Amir’s monologue. He speaks anyway.
“I mean… the reports from my coven were not incorrect. Eddie’s wife was alarmingly beautiful in the muted lamplight. They did, however, fail to mention that her companion was equally enchanting-”
“‘-The vampire bored holes into my soul. I thought he was going to kill me and Eddie, right in the middle of the park, where anyone could see,’” Dolly reads from your diary, snatching the attention of both men, “‘Would this be our final moments? Would we be reunited with our tormentor in the afterlife so soon after his demise?’”
Eddie winces at the last sentence as Amir takes a deep breath in, then out. There’s pure silence for a few moments until Dolly starts up again.
“So? Who broke the ice? What were the first words of the ancient vampire to the future love of his life?”
“I… spoke to his heart.” Amir chuckles as Dolly notes the growing distance between the pair.
When the session started, Eddie and Amir were practically on top of each other, but as the story unfolded, they slid apart from each other.
More evidence that this is a fucking game of theirs.
“His heart, huh?” Dolly frowns, trying to remember where she’s heard that phrase before.
Canary called Eddie her heart in French, but he’d usually reply that she was his- …for fuck’s sake.
“Jesus Christ, you mean Canary-”
“-One could easily tell that she was everything to him-”
“-the love of your life,” Dolly turns to appeal to Eddie, “The man you’ve spent the last seventy-plus years with, flirted with your wife before he even thought about looking in your direction.”
“She drew that type of attention anywhere we went,” Eddie leans back, seemingly relaxed all of a sudden, “I thought he was just another mortal trying to get under Canary’s skirt.”
“Just another mortal, huh?” Amir glances at Dolly. “Did the orange eyes not give me away?”
“I was trying to protect my wife,” Eddie huffs, “‘didn’t give a shit about the color of your eyes.”
“You two certain squabble like an old married couple,” Dolly mutters under her breath before she continues her interrogation, “Amir, what were your first words to Canary?”
“I will not harm you,” The strange man with orange eyes like mine handed me a small card, “Come. And bring the petite beauty with you.”
Words failed to form in my mouth. He was odd, like Eddie. Perhaps he thought the same of me, since we stared at each other for what felt like eons. The man was handsome, but not like my Eddie. Clean, composed, practiced. Calculating and quite cold, by the lack of any emotion on his face.
My intrigue was met with its equal partner in his gaze. Was I scowling or frowning at this sudden interruption to a lovely night out in Paris? Were my eyes not gateways to my soul, and could he not find the warmth in my heart in them?
“You are most welcome to join,” He tapped the card in my hand before he looked at Eddie, “all three of you.”
The man turned away from us, leaving as quietly as he came. The streetlamps flicked once more — a sign of the power I felt, perhaps? — and we were left with nothing but questions for a man who was no longer there to answer them.
“I…”
What could I say to Eddie? My tongue was heavy as I looked at the business card in my hand. Eddie peered over my shoulder, looking for a name for the enchanting stranger we just crossed paths with.
Amir was on the first line, followed by Directeur Artistique on the next. Carefully, I flipped the card over to see an address for the Theatre Des Vampires.
Vampires. Multiple vampires. A company of vampires, if you were to believe the simple words on this plain, white piece of paper.
“He’s a vampire?” Eddie asked.
My darling, what else could he be?
“One of many,” I handed the card to him, so he could inspect it, “we have to tell our daughter.”
I was never in a rush in this city, as I wanted to trace every detail of this city into my mind, but I was dragging my poor husband through a familiar path back to our apartment. Could you blame me? This fairytale that we chased around for four years was now a reality. I didn’t have to choose between my happiness and my daughter’s. Both could co-exist at once!
I’ll have to figure out something for Eddie, though. His lips tell one story, but his eyes never lie. There’s a sadness that I can’t quite place. A mournfulness that he tries to hide from me. I fear I know my husband’s heart as if it’s my own. If Harper and I are to be satisfied, then there must be something for Eddie in Paris. By the way Eddie’s eyes gazed in excitement, I am positive that his thing may be the strange man — Amir, I must remember to refer to him by name when we next meet — we encountered.
Smooth jazz greeted my ears when I stormed into the apartment, and I was surprised to see Harper standing in the mirror, admiring herself in a satin, soft pink dress that was beautiful on her.
“Harper!” I held Eddie’s hand tight, the business card clutched in the other. “I found someone! Or they found me. Found us.”
Her eyes lit up with a youthful glow that hadn’t been in there for years as she snatched the card from my hand.
“Let me see,” She looked over the card as she set down her glass of wine, “Vampires. Real fuckin’ vampires. Are you-”
“-the name on the card, Amir? He was the one who gave it to us.” My eyes took in her outfit. “New dress?”
“Yeah. We made rent, so I decided to spoil myself,” Proudly, Harper did a little twirl, “you like it?”
“‘Course, I do, honey. The color suits you.”
“Is the other for Canary?” Eddie asked, holding up a dress that was sitting on my side of the bed. “She’s gonna look beautiful in it.”
False flattery won’t get you very far. The flattery that constantly falls from Eddie’s lip, as he paints a portrait of me that still doesn’t feel real despite his insistence on the matter, will, in fact, get him everything he’s ever wanted and so much more.
“Wear it tomorrow, Mama,” Harper grinned at me, “We have plans. Big plans.”
“Five months removed from their velvet-heeled arrival, the Americans were finally coming to Pigalle.” Amir drums his fingers against the side of the couch as Eddie rolls his eyes.
“The perfumed armpit of Paris. The night we came, the theater was half-full. A mixture of slavish devotees and over-served tourists.”
“We had become amusingly passé amongst the theater community and found a more receptive audience from our Anglican friends now invading Paris postwar.” Amir paints a prettier picture than Eddie. “Five out of every seven performances were in the King’s English.”
“Some had been there dozens of times… and some couldn’t care less what was spoken.” Eddie grimaces as Amir hums in partial agreement.
“They were all the same to us. Cattle for our nightly sabbath.”
“But we were there for the vampires,” Eddie continues, “and you could feel their numbers in the air.”
“You don’t sound thrilled, Eddison.” Dolly remarks as the man in question snorts.
“The plays were… weird?”
“The plays were timeless, updated for the age and all from our hundred-and-fifty repertoire.” Amir romanticizes his work as Eddie looks over in disbelief.
“They were weird! And they always ended in death or some kind of cruel, barely-motivated violence-”
“Life is cruel. Life is violent.” Amir gently taps his lover’s shoulder, “And your girls loved them, did they not?”
“Harper loved enjoy the plays,” Eddie glances away, “Canary, however-”
“-she was enthralled, just as your daughter was-”
“-you know damn well that she didn’t like the violence in them. My wife’s… gentle. She’s not like most vampires.”
Eddie and Amir have devolved into a small argument of their own making, leaving Dolly completely out of it.
“Yet she laughed and smiled when we did-”
“-that doesn’t prove anything-”
“-she had a great time!”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Sighing and shaking her head, Dolly picks up your journals once more. Your writing is a worthy escape from Eddie and Amir’s… whatever the fuck you want to call it.
~
“Entradas. Tickets. Des billets.”
A blonde woman with absurdly large, fake vampire teeth asks for your tickets, and Harper excitedly places her hands on the ticket booth as you present the attendant with the business card that Amir handed you.
While she examines the card, you take the time to cross-examine her. Her short hair is mostly hidden behind a black-and-gold striped cap, but your eyes are mostly drawn to the make-up that is caked on her face. You’re not one to judge, but her face looks three shades lighter than the skin tone that peeks through the sleeves of her red jacket.
Ah, she’s trying to pretend to be a vampire! But her eyes… they don’t belong to a mortal. So what’s with the disguise?
“Monsieur et Madame Watts,” The woman struggles to speak with those fake teeth in her mouth as she tucks the card in her pocket, pulling a ticket for the show out of thin air, “Our finest seats.”
She tears off the stub of your ticket before she hands the remainder to your husband, who tucks the ticket into his coat pocket.
“Harper-”
“-way ahead of you!” She’s halfway through the theater’s entrance — two double doors with pretty stained glass windows — causing you and Eddie to chuckle. “C’mon, slowpokes! Get a move on!”
“Mrs. Watts,” Eddie says with a teasing smirk, “shall we?”
“You’re makin’ me sound old!” You whine as you place your hand on his forearm, allowing him to guide you into the building. “Call me your wife or your sweetheart or your angel, but not that.”
“But you call me that-”
“-when you’re pissin’ me off,” You crinkle your nose at Eddie as you slip inside to join Harper, who bounces on the heels of her feet as she admires the entryway, “Keep it up, Eddison.”
“Fuck, you’re cute when you think you’re scary,” He smiles when you playfully backhand his chest, “C’mon, let’s find our seats.”
“I can be terrifying when I wanna be,” You look to your daughter for some back up, “right, ma petite?”
“Uh-huh.” Harper gives a non-committal answer as she strolls past the lovers in the entryway, not bothering to look at the amorous displays around her as she wanders towards the auditorium.
“You’re both cruel towards me.” You huff, turning your chin away from Eddie. “When I have been nothin’ but kind ‘n sweet towards you-”
“-bullshit, Canary, ‘n you know it. You’re tryin’ to manipulate me ‘cause you know you’re losin’-”
“-and it usually works.” You bemoan to your husband before you’re briefly stunned by the somewhat expansive auditorium that you’ve entered. “Woah.”
It isn’t like the opera halls that you were dragged to back in New Orleans, but there’s something charming and quaint about the wooden, tightly-packed seats before you. The crowd isn’t what you expect, with soldiers and their lovers in one-half of the room, patiently waiting for the show to start. The other half is filled with loyalists to the theater company, who are dressed in… peculiar outfits that must resemble the characters and plays that they adore so much.
Then, there’s the lovers in booths that are wearing poor excuses for clothing, to hide what can only be obscured by the dimming of lights, which signals that the production will begin soon. Harper rushes ahead, and you’d join her if you didn’t see something headed your way from the corner of your eye.
Huh?
Eddie pulls you to his chest as a drunken spectator throws a handful of popcorn across the aisle, and your hand slides down his arm so you can hold his hand.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your neck. “‘Didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, Eddie, ‘m fine. Thanks for lookin’ out for me.” You squeeze his hand before he kisses the back of your head.
“Always, mon ange.”
Without further incident, the three of you take your seats in uncomfortable wooden chairs that bother your back, but you say nothing when Harper beams at the curtain that’s drawn over the stage. You can’t ruin this because your body isn’t like hers, so you’ll just-
“-here, Canary,” Eddie drapes his overcoat on the back of the chair, causing you to sigh in relief when your body is comforted by his clothes instead of a hard wooden chair, “is that better?”
“Much,” You cuddle closer to Eddie after he not-so-subtly places an arm around your shoulder, “what would I do without you?”
“Be hopelessly lost without a naggin’ husband who loves you a lot?” He smirks when you cross your arms in disappointment. “Canary, you’re askin’ the wrong person that question. You’d be fine without me, but what the fuck would I do without you in my life? …And don’t tell me that I’d find another wife, ‘cause there will never be another woman like you, sweetheart.”
“If you hadn’t met me, you wouldn’t know that.” You point out.
“I don’t wanna think about that. ‘Can’t imagine wakin’ up to someone besides you in our coffin, or travelin’ the world with someone else by my side.” Eddie’s eyes soften when you gaze into them. “‘M nothin’ without you.”
“What about him?” Your eyes move past your husband, and he follows your gaze upwards as you stare at Amir, who peers down from a second-floor balcony at you and Eddie. “What do you make of him?”
“He’s… different.”
Non-committal, eyes averted, the faintest blush on his face… you’ve traveled down this road with Eddie before.
“You like him,” You poke his shoulder with your finger, “I like him too. He’s… reserved. Calmer, more controlled-”
“-you sound like you’re tryin’ to convince me of somethin’.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you?”
“Maybe… maybe not.” You shrug. “Find your own destiny, Eddie. It can’t be tied to me forever.”
“It… can’t?” Eddie’s a little upset by your statement, going only by the frown on his face, and you’re quick to reassure him of your love.
“We will always be companions ‘n lovers, okay? But you have to seek out more in life. Find somethin’ that makes you feel everythin’. Both the good ‘n the bad feelings.”
“But that’s you-”
“-shush!” Harper glares at you and Eddie as the lights flicker before the auditorium goes completely dark. “They’re startin’ soon!”
“Yes, ma’am.” You mumble, causing him to chuckle in response before you hear the beginning of an orchestral number.
Suddenly, the darkened lights flicker wildly, and the three of you look around in concern when you hear screams echo around the large building.
“Ladies and gentleman!” A commanding, strong voice echoes from behind the large, red curtain in front of you. “Mesdames et messieurs! Offal and offalesses!”
The curtain is slowly pulled to the side before a figure emerges center-stage. While the lights continue to blink and the screams go on in the background, you take in the man. He wears striped pants and a large, black cape that’s lined with orange fabric on the inside. A relaxed confidence is worn upon his shoulders — he’s performed this very act many, many times.
Sweetheart?
Your head snaps towards Eddie, who softly smiles at you.
Yeah?
Just checkin’ in. You’re squeezin’ my hand.
Your face flushes as you look down at your intertwined fingers, and his thumb strokes a patch of skin on your hand in reassurance.
I’m sorry, Eddie. I can let go-
-you don’t have to. I… I don’t want you to.
Even with the poor lighting, you can see the blush on his face.
I won’t, mon cœur.
You both turn your attention back to the stage, where a floodlight illuminates the actor’s form before a dramatic drumroll takes the place of the echoing screams.
“Welcome!” He holds his left arm in the air, showing off more details to his elaborate costume with the gesture. “To the displacement of reason, and the excretion of pathetic desires.”
The man’s right arm goes up as he speaks, making his cape looking like wings before he bows to the audience
“By that I mean,” He glances at a few people in the front row, who recite his monologue alongside him, “good evening!”
The actor snarls at the audience, who laughs in delight, as he hooks himself onto a rope that happens to drop from the ceiling at that very moment.
“What you’re about to see,” Both of his feet lift off of the ground as he appears to be pulled from the ground by that very rope, “is, for you, an outrage that masks a birth and a rebirth of what is…”
The rope’s limp. He’s really flyin’!
I know, Harper.
You smile when you see her grinning from ear-to-ear. When was the last time you saw a genuine smile from her that was not for your satisfaction?
“Instead of mere human drama,” The man flicks his fingers in disapproval as he floats towards Amir, landing on the other side of the balcony as the floodlight follows his every movement, “we here at Theatre Des Vampires delve into the underbelly of the human soul to present to you the highest form of art in the lowest of ways!”
Amir stands proudly, just out of the light’s reach as his companion places two fingers on Amir’s lips right after they touch his own. The crowd whoops and hollers as the actor sits on the railing.
“Have you repressions that need airing?” He chuckles. “Oh, you’ve come to the right place. Phobias toward your next of kin? Amis, we assist in turning down the sheets! Bloodlust?! Fear of the insane?! I salute your honesty… right after I take my boot from your arse.”
The people around you explode with laughter as you snatch a stray program off of the ground, trying to find the name of this talented actor that draws attention to himself with his wacky, over-the-top mannerisms.
“But seriously, mes amis, being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals,” He speaks with a distaste for mankind that dries your mouth out, “we can replicate the level of bilge necessary to disrupt your tiny ship called human decency.”
Drysdale, huh? An odd moniker for an odd man.
“In fact, we capsize it,” Drysdale flies back down to the stage, “So, if you don’t leave here tonight seeing the world upside down and liking very much what you see… and feel…”
He runs a dangerous hand down the side of his body, eliciting squeals from the excited women in the front row.
“Then, we here at Theatre Des Vampires have failed in our jobs which is, at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery while you cry and scream for more.”
“More!” The front two rows erupt in frantic applause as Drysdale unhooks himself from the rope with one hand.
He revels in the applause for a moment before he sticks a hand out, silencing the crowd with one single gesture. His eyes scan the crowd until he spots you, Eddie, and Harper amongst them.
“Everything you’re about to see… is real.” A message solely for the three of you, that you’re among fellow vampires. “Remember that when you leave here tonight. You are all complicit, repugnant…”
Drysdale pauses before he raises his voice in voluming, making everyone — including you — jump in surprise.
“And appalling!” A wry smile appears on his face as he continues on. “And I love you for it. And I welcome you… even as you disgust me!”
He bows once more, and the bright light cast upon him dims, signaling the end of Drysdale’s opening monologue. Everyone around you loses their fucking minds, clapping and cheering and celebrating as if the man in front of you was the one to end the war that had plagued the collective concious of the world for years on end.
You’re… unsure of your current emotions towards the production, as it’s nothing like the operas that you saw back in New Orleans. It’s… different.
On your left, Harper is fully drawn into the performance as playful piano music sets the mood for the next act. You haven’t seen her this focused in months, and you’d do anything to keep that smile on her face.
On your right, Eddie shoots you a perturbed look that makes you cover your mouth with your hand, so the actors don’t think that you’re laughing at them.
…What the fuck was that?
Theater, Eddie. You don’t like it?
It’s not for me. You?
I… don’t know. Harper seems to be enjoying herself, though.
Well, I’m glad she is.
Eddie presses a kiss to your temple as a small group of actors appear on the stage. They begin to recite a strange play about a favorite flower in a garden, but you’re more interested in the background that plays behind them.
The actors perform each act in front of a cinema screen, interacting with animations and bits of film in near perfect synchronization. The effect is wondrous, and it’s clear that the modern cinema has an enormous influence on the aesthetic of the theater company. The light of the projector on the faces of the actors lends a romantic air to their performances.
Between each play, you find great pleasure in gauging the wildly different reactions of your companions. Harper falls further into the allure while Eddie falls completely out of it, shifting uncomfortably until your eyes meet his.
You’re still in two minds about the violent, cruel natures of the plays that you’re witnessing. Sure, it’s representative of real life, but must they splash you with fake blood in order to get the point across? Harper just bought you this dress, and now it’s ruined because you didn’t bring an umbrella to an indoor show. Go fucking figure.
Eddie sighs in relief when the name projected onto the screen matches the name of the last play in the program, meaning that his torture — and Harper’s joy — will end soon.
The production begins with a man slicing a piece of wood on the screen using a prop axe, and he jumps in surprise when a hooded figure — Drysdale, you’d wager, since the man appeared to be the main male lead in all of the plays — resembling a reaper solemn walks across the stage.
“Woodcutter!” He bemoans, proudly displaying his scythe to the crowd. “Woodcutter!”
“Who are you?” The woodcutter asks, and his fear increases when a single finger from the reaper causes a small cat who was on the projection screen to die instantaneously.
“I am what you think I am, woodcutter.” Drysdale turns to his stage partner, who holds his axe with shaky hands.
“Go away-”
“-the clock in your heart,” Drysdale extends his free hand to him before he crushes air in-between his fingers, “the gears have stopped meshing.”
A gear appears on the man’s white shirt from the projection, and Drysdale goes to speak again before he’s interrupted by a crying, hysterical, half-dressed woman who runs in and collapses in the middle of the stage.
“Help me, someone!” She cries out, and your heart squeezes in your chest as noticeable discomfort settles on your features. “Please!”
“What is this?” The woodcutter is annoyed, and the projection screen is immediately pulled up as two women — more vampires like you — haul the mortal woman up to her feet. “She’s disrupted the performance.”
The mortal is bound and gagged before your very eyes, as Drysdale removes his hood, and the tiniest sound of disapproval from your lips has Eddie pulling you closer to him.
It’s alright, Canary. I’ve got you. Nothin’ will happen to you, or me, or Harper. It’s just a play.
Right… right. But what about her?
“No! No, no, no, no!” Drysdale gestures to one of the women, who you recognize as the one who gave Eddie your ticket inside. “Let her speak, Chairemi. Let her speak.”
Chairemi — a name you recite thrice, so you’ll know it when you’re properly introduced to her — removes her gag, lightly pushing the woman forward before she joins her other female companion at the side of the stage.
The mortal woman speaks garbled, hurried Dutch that you can’t fully decipher, but you can pick out the words ‘God, save me’ and ‘Please don’t kill me’ and a string of curses dedicated to an audience that refuses to let her speak.
Drysdale calmly approaches the woman before he scolds and shushes her, all in one go.
“Shush, shush, it’ll be alright. …Now, darling, this is an ‘English-only’ performance. Start again.”
Wracked with sobs, the mortal attempts to plead in her non-native tongue.
“My… my name…” She cries out, “I live in Antwerp. I was taken from my hotel room last night. These people… are vampires! True vampires! This… this is real! Call my husband!”
The audience laughs as Eddie spares a glance towards Amir, most likely nonverbally expressing his disapproval, alongside yours, of this very display.
This is cruel. A shiver runs down your spine because you recognize this cruelty, as you thought you left it in New Orleans. …You left him in New Orleans.
These vampires are supposed to be different. You’re tempted to grab Eddie’s hand and leave, if you weren’t glued to your seat because of the starstruck look on Harper’s face.
This isn’t about you. This is for her. Get that through your head… perhaps they won’t kill her?
“I’ll call him for you, baby!” A soldier from the audience jeers at her, and your hand leaves Eddie’s as the crowd, once happy and boisterous, now seems downright mean as they laugh at this woman’s agony.
You’ve been that woman before — in front of a four person audience, instead of a hundred — but you know what she’s feeling. The shame, the disgust, the self-hatred and loathing…
The mortal woman attempts to speak in Dutch again, but she can’t get more than a few words out before she’s choked up with endless tears that stream down her face. Drysdale flicks a few fingers in the air, and the actors that once populated the stage disappear without another word as all eyes go to him and the woman he’s holding hostage.
“Suppose we were to let you go.” He proposes as the curtain shuts behind him and the woman, causing her to whimper in fear as she begs for her life.
“Please! Yes, please-”
“-Yes?” Drysdale takes another step closer, and the woman doesn’t dare to move away from him. “Suppose the reaper had a heart that could resist your Belgian beauty. Someone would have to take your place.”
She nods in agreement until he starts to suggest alternative options.
“Your husband?” His eyebrows raise as the mortal shakes her head. “No? …Your son?”
“I… I can’t, and I wouldn’t.”
Eddie, honey-
-breathe, sweetheart. It’ll be okay.
A bit of alarm settles in your husband’s eyes as he realizes that you’re shaking.
She’s… she’s not wearing much clothing, and she’s begging him for her life!
Mon ange, that’s-
-how I was the night Volt died.
Your vision fogs with tears that are quickly wiped away by the pads of Eddie’s thumb.
C’mon, Canary, I’ll take you outside so you can-
-No. I can’t ruin this for Harper. She’s been fretting over me for years. She needs something for herself.
It’s not good for her if it’s hurting you.
I’ll be fine. My heart’s sensitive, Eddie. It’ll only harden up if you stop coddling me.
I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to end up like them or… him, Canary. That heart of yours is the best part of you.
Through your tears, you see Eddie trying to force a smile in order to mask his worry for you.
You are fuckin’ perfect the way you are, okay? Nothin’ that woman said that night changed how I felt about you. You’re still my wife, my angel, ‘n my Canary. That’ll never change. If this bothers you, then keep your eyes on me. I’ll get you — no, I’ll get us — through this. Whatever ‘this’ may be.
My love… thank you.
“How about…” Drysdale selects an audience member from the right side of the house, but you don’t care to see who it is as you bury your head into Eddie’s neck. “Him?”
The mortal woman hums in agreement as Drysdale’s voice moves closer to the three of you.
“Oh, dear man, whose flesh has run in every direction from his mustache, I want you to remember this… the next time you’re in the pew, when you turn to your neighbor and say, ‘Peace be unto you’, they’ll give you up in a wink!”
The erratic breathing of the woman on stage only seems to be matched by your own, as Eddie works to calm you down by gently rubbing your back and kissing the crown of your head.
I love you, sweetheart. I love you so fuckin’ much. I won’t let you go.
“It’s not his time, darling,” You dare to peek at the stage from the safety of Eddie’s arms as Drysdale shushes the crying mortal once more, “now, now. There, there. It must be you.”
He repeatedly pats the skin over her heart, which causes her tears to slow and her breathing to waver. Once she’s stable, Drysdale caresses her face with the back of his hand.
“Death awaits everyone everywhere. Why not here?” He turns to the crowd as the woman’s head droops. “Unconscious death is the fate of all mortals. …Up, up, up.”
Every time he repeats that word, the woman’s head rises bit-by-bit until she meets his burning gaze.
“We are conscious death… and that would make you a bride.”
Her eyes shut as Drysdale kisses her, fully submitting herself to his will as his other hand comes to her face.
“Do you know what it means to be loved by death?” You watch, breath caught in your throat as you can see, even from a fair distance away, his real vampire teeth extend from his mouth. “No pain.”
“No pain.” She softly repeats before he bites her.
The dramatic music in the background swells into a crescendo as you share an uneasy look with Eddie. You both know not to reveal your true nature to mortals, yet these vampires do so freely and without consequence.
Drysdale briefly drains her before he lets her go, backing away as a spotlight reveals a crowd of vampires, all dressed in white robes, who are eager for a piece of this mortal. With a wave of his hand, he calls his fellow vampires forth and they seize the shrieking woman before they sink their teeth into her flesh. She’s brought to the ground as the lights disappear from the stage, and your mouth hangs wide open when, a few moments later, the lights return and a dead corpse sits on stage.
The vampires have blood — real blood — covering their mouths as they stand in a straight line behind her, and Drysdale quickly returns to the stage so he can bow for the very last performance.
Half of the crowd thunderously applauses — Harper among them as she stands and cheers alongside the regulars in the crowd — and the other half, much like you and your husband, stare in utter disbelief.
You and Eddie have the same idea as you turn to each other with the same perplexed expression on your face, the same three words falling from your mouths as you try to wrap your heads around what you just saw.
“What the fuck?”
The company moves forward to hide the body from the audience’s view as they soak up the positive and negative attention that they’re receiving, and you begin to sweat a bit as Drysdale glances in your direction. You exhale, relieved that he just wants to shoot you a cheeky wink, and you chuckle to yourself before you stand and give a polite round of applause.
You don’t have to tell Eddie to stand — he does so, of his own free will — but you do look back at Amir, who smiles confidently when he notices that your eyes are on him. He moves his head to the left, inviting you to come somewhere with him after the mortal crowd disperses from the theater.
Eddie catches your hand before you can move towards Amir, and he quickly takes the lead as he throws his coat over your shoulders.
“Wherever we’re goin’,” He mumbles, “I want you to stay behind me.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You voice your agreement as you lace your fingers through his. “This place, and these people, give me a bad feelin’.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything, but you can tell by his uneasy gaze that the pit in your stomach is also in his.
Your trio joins Amir on the second-floor balcony of the auditorium, and he wordlessly leads you into the noisy dressing room behind the stage. You store your worries in the back of your mind — not too far away, as to keep your wits about you, but far enough for you to relax a little when Amir breaks the silence with an explanation on the origins of his coven.
“Our coven has been here since the reign of Charlemagne, but we only became a theater company after Danton was guillotined.” Amir’s French accent is thick in his voice as he leads the three of you down a rickety set of stairs, right into the middle of the room.
He claps his hands to draw the attention of his coven, a brief look of anger settling on his dazzling features.
“Ah! Do I hear French from the lips of an English company?” Immediately, all of the buzz in the room switches to English as Amir continues to address them. “Better, better. If you desire to seduce on stage, you must live it off-stage!”
The company — or coven, or whatever the hell they’re called — mutters brief thanks before a black-haired woman steps forward to speak with Amir.
“London was not made overnight, Maître.”
“And that is why several Toulousian G’s pricked my ear in act four.” Amir sternly addresses her before he turns to Drysdale and the woman he has on his lap, who are much more interested in each other than their coven leader. “Did you catch that, Englishman?”
“Oh, I did, Maître.” Drysdale purrs before he twirls a strand of his partner’s hair in-between his fingers.
Eddie keeps a protective hand around your waist as Harper beams with new life while she repeatedly squeezes your hand for reassurance.
“Otherwise, very committed tonight, Madame.” Amir gives his notes to the woman on Drysdale’s lap, who thanks him in French, before he speaks to the coven as a whole. “That goes for the entire company. Very committed tonight! Bravo! Brava!”
He then turns to the three of you, a gentle smile on his handsome features.
“Even as they wipe their greasepaint, as if this were an ordinary night-”
“-five months of nights.” Drysdale stands after his companion does the same, “five insolent months of nights, waiting for you to humble us with your appearance. I ask you, Maître, was it worth the wait?”
The company of vampires then crowd around the three of you, and you shyly hide behind Eddie as you feel them tear you apart with their eyes. There’s stiff, harsh silence spread across the room as you enter into a staring matching — your company versus theirs — and it feels like you’re suffocating-
A woman’s tittering causes everyone to groan before they scold her, and a male vampire to Eddie’s left decides to break through the murmuring crowd.
“The Americans are here!”
Everyone applauds and cheers, and you’re suddenly swarmed by a few vampires who are eager to hug you and kiss your cheeks. You, albeit hesitantly, allow them to do so as Eddie stands back and watches you and Harper absorb all of the attention and admiration.
As the company backs away from you and your daughter, Amir makes his way through the crowd, climbing a few stairs so he can stand tall over his coven.
“Eddie, Canary, and Harper,” He gestures to his coven, “The Theatre Des Vampires.”
“Fuck off!” Everyone greets you in a most unusual way before they bow to you, and you politely bow back as Amir introduces you to every vampire in front of you.
“Bathsheba, front of house,” The woman that was once hanging off of Drysdale like her life depended on it waves excitedly at you, “Daisuke, stage management. Artt designs our props and costumes-”
“-stunning work.” Harper politely pays Artt a compliment, and he nods back with a small smile on his face.
“Ah, Chairemi, playwright in residence,” Amir’s eyes linger on you as the blonde from earlier makes her way to the front of the crowd, “I do believe you’ll find good company in Mrs. Watts. Please take the time to show her your craft.”
A fellow author? A woman, nonetheless?
“I look forward to working with you!” Chairemi sticks her hand out to you, and you shake it before she grabs a basket of bloodied clothes and hurries into another room.
“Miranda runs our orchestra,” Amir continues with his introductions as Miranda salutes you with two fingers, “Curt and Rod, projections, scenery, swing actors.”
“They were beautiful.” You praise the pair, causing them to light up immediately.
“Thank you. I told you that color change was a good idea-” Curt says before Rod scoffs.
“-it looked like shit before I fixed it-”
“-No it didn’t-”
“-Yes it did!”
Amir coughs into his hand, and they stop fighting so he can speak once more.
“And, last but certainly not least, our core acting company,” He gestures to the four unnamed members — well, three unnamed members, since you figured out who Drysdale was already — of the company, “Lady Memoria, Chance, Connie, and Drysdale.”
“You were amazing!” Harper speaks highly of Drysdale, who chuckles in response.
“I was, wasn’t I?” He points to her outfit, then yours. “Love the dresses.”
“Mercí.” You thank him before Lady Memoria folds her arms over her long, black dress.
“Do all American vampiresses wear such colorful attire?” Her gaze is strong, and you fail to meet it as Eddie squeezes your hip.
“Harper ‘n Canary are the only American vampiresses,” He has that teasing look in his eyes, so your cheeks heat up in anticipation, “so I say that’s a yes.”
“And…” Connie, the other actress, slowly walks up to you, “are all American vampires as alluring as you?”
“Ah…” You giggle, nervously playing with a strand of your hair as Chance grabs Connie by the shoulder and reins her in.
“No,” Harper answers for you, “Canary was expelled for her beauty.”
Lord help your husband and your daughter when you get them back for this one.
“Oh, such a burden, beauty,” Drysdale dramatically combs a hand through his hair, causing the company of vampires to laugh, “who’s your Maker?”
…Fuck.
“My maker?” Eddie places a free hand to his chest as Drysdale nods.
“Bathsheba here does star charts for us all,” He explains, “Night you were made, phase of the moon, name of the maker.”
Panic erupts through your entire system, especially when Harper nudges your shoulder and subtly points out a painting on the wall.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Please, Drysdale,” Bathsheba butts into the conversation, “I don’t really need-”
“-Do you, Canary, and Harper share a Maker?” Drysdale continues his interrogation as you do your best to hide the terror that’s spreading from your head to your toes.
No, no, nononono. This isn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to go to Paris to escape-
“We did, yeah.” Eddie answers when you and Harper are both wordlessly staring at the fucking painting of that fucker.
If looks could kill, Harper would kill you again.
“His name was Bruce.” Your head snaps towards Harper when she lies through her teeth to the vampire coven.
What are you-
-keep your mind closed to them and, for the love of fucking God, make sure that Eddie does not fuck this up.
I… got it. I trust you… but him? Of all vampires, him-
-y’know any other ones?
…Nevermind.
That’s what I thought. Trust me, Mama. I’ve got this.
“Bruce, huh?” Drysdale lets the name roll off of his tongue before he smiles. “Is he Scottish?”
“He said he was from Copangahen. We met him on the road just outside of-”
“-Chicago.” Eddie grits his teeth as he locks eyes with Harper, who nods in agreement.
“We traveled a lot.”
“As you do, when the kills pile up.” Eddie’s hand moves to your back as he warmly looks at you. “That’s where I met Canary ‘n Harper.”
“We don’t like to talk about him much. He, uh… threw himself into a fire in front of us.” Harper gets choked up as she speaks on the matter, and you can imagine that she’s thinking of Stella at this moment instead of her supposed Maker.
“And, once again, Drysdale, it seems you’ve missed the vein and drawn air instead.” Amir harshly comments, which causes Drysdale to shrug.
“I got a question for ya.” Harper turns her attention back to the wall, and you place a hand on Eddie’s forearm in preparation.
Listen to me very carefully, Eddison.
Canary, what is this about? You look terrified-
-When you look up at that wall, you cannot think of the person you’re about to see. You can’t think about anything to do with him. If you do, it will put us in a dangerous spot. Do you understand me?
It can’t be that bad, sweetheart.
Eddie, I’m not joking. You have to get your shit together. You might get us killed if you don’t.
…Mon ange, you’re scarin’ me.
“Who’s that handsome,” Harper grits her teeth as her eyes go back up to that painting, “man on the wall up there?”
Keep your mind clear, my love. I’m right here.
Canary, I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle it.
With his eyes, Eddie traces your gaze to that very painting, and he freezes as he recognizes that face.
…Merde.
Eddison Watts-
-Canary, when did you-
-I told you to keep your mind-
-a fuckin’ warnin’ would’ve been nice-
-he’s just a painting on a wall. He can’t hurt us anymore. Close. Your. Mind.
“Ah! With us in spirit, always.” Amir looks pleased with himself as he gestures to the masterpiece that terrifies your little family to death. “Our co-founder and the finest actor to ever walk our stage — Volt de Lioncourt.”
~
“Should have seen that coming,” Dolly shakes her head in disbelief at the reveal of Volt’s painting in the dressing room, “did not see that one coming. Big red flag, huh?”
“The biggest.” Eddie answers as Dolly leans forward to search up something on her laptop.
“You must understand-”
“-Oh, I understand.” Dolly interrupts Amir as she searches through her music library, looking for the perfect track to use.
“In a community as small as ours,” Amir tries to explain his point of view, “such crossing of immortal paths is expected. Perhaps it’s more common than you would think.”
Dolly presses play on her laptop before sad piano music fills Eddie’s living room.
“And Juan looked up at the paintin’ and saw that Theresa’s dead husband was Roberto. He had eloped with his enemy’s widow,” Dolly rolls her eyes hard as she mocks the vampires, “it’s a telenovela! I mean, c’mon! Volt’s paintin’ on the wall! Are you kiddin’ me? Really?”
Dolly gasps in fake shock.
“Oh, and that means… that means you,” She makes a direct effort to point at Amir, “knew Volt before Eddie did!”
“Yes, Amir knew Volt.” Eddie confirms before Dolly’s eyes widen.
“Wait a minute-”
“-and, yes, he was briefly with Volt.”
Oh, this is fucking priceless!
“You both fucked Volt.” Dolly plainly states as Amir looks to clear the air.
“A hundred plus years apart-”
“-they didn’t get along-” Eddie tries to help before his lover overrides him once more.
“-he tasted like vermouth and annihilation.”
Dolly snorts with laughter.
“You shared a boyfriend-”
“-a girlfriend, too, if we’re getting technical.” Amir attempts to one-up Dolly, but Eddie gets the jump on him before she can do so.
“Canary’s my wife.” He grumbles. “Not my girlfriend.”
“The sentimental applies all the same, my love.” Amir lightly taps Eddie’s knee, and he seems less receptive to the gesture than he was before.
“This is fuckin’ great.” Dolly adjusts her glasses. “Forget the novel. I’m gonna make a killin’ when I sell the rights of this bullshit to CBS for some daytime soap opera for single moms over the age of thirty-”
“-I fucked Drysdale, too,” The coarse language from Amir’s mouth gives Dolly pause, “And Connie, and Lady Memoria. Even had an aerobic evening with Curt and Rod in the back row of a cinema watching Now, Voyager.”
“...You did?” Eddie mirrors Dolly’s confused look as he speaks.
“It’s repertory theater, Mrs. Molloy. It’s how one endures.” Amir says as Dolly shakes her head in disagreement, “And I don’t believe you are one to judge, my dear Eddie. What was it that you and your darling wife used to get up to on the balcony of yours-”
“-Volt’s appearance is important,” Eddie interrupts with a heavy flush on his face, and Dolly is very thankful as she does not wish to know any more about your sex life than she has to from reading your diaries and your letters, “just not in the way you think it is, Dolly.”
“Oh, I’m done thinkin’,” Dolly leans back in her seat, “Bring me the tequila and some popcorn, let’s flip to channel three-hundred-and-somethin’. It’s a Univision night!”
~
“I saw his stupid face up there and had to think of somethin’ quick.” Harper tries to explain her side of things, but Eddie refuses to hear her out or even let her into his darkroom as he spirals hard.
Volt wasn’t supposed to be a part of your new lives. Maybe as a bad memory or a haunting ghost that lingered in the back of your subconsciousness, but his traces were supposed to remain invisible to the naked eye.
Why, then, did the coven of vampires that Harper was so eager to meet have a fucking shrine to him?
“You couldn’t make up a name?” Eddie shoots back, and guilt settles in his stomach as he knows you’d disapprove of their arguing.
“Best lies got some truth to ‘em,” Harper reasons, “‘n that’s the only other vampire I knew besides you ‘n Mama. It’s gonna be fine, Eddie. Come out of that damn room before your wife paces holes into our carpet ‘cause she’s worried sick about you.”
“Yeah, it’ll all be fine. What about Volt?” Eddie busies his fingers with the film in his hands, but he can’t distract himself forever.
“He’s a hundred-something-year-old vampire in a painting.” Harper’s refusal to admit her perceived wrongdoings forces Eddie from his hiding place as he follows her into the bedroom.
“They got a fuckin’ shrine to Volt! What if they find out that we killed him?” Eddie throws his hands into the air before his eyes meet yours. “Canary.”
“Eddie!” Your heels frantically click against the ground as you approach Eddie, wrapping your arms around his neck before you press a kiss to his lips. “Merde, I’ve been worried about you. You locked yourself in there for hours, ‘n you blocked me out-”
“-one of us would have to tell ‘em about what we did that night.” Harper cuts you off as Eddie presses a brief kiss to your head before he breaks out of your embrace, causing hurt to reflect in your eyes.
Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be back for you in a minute.
“Or think it!” Eddie slams the doors to the balcony shut, not allowing rainfall to enter your home.
“Well, I thought it as soon as I saw his face in the frame, but there they were, invitin’ us back five minutes later-”
“-to kill us.” Eddie cuts her off as you linger near the hallway entrance, ready to flee if their verbal skirmish turns into something more.
“And, right after that, I invaded their thoughts and not one — not one of ‘em — thought anythin’ other than I want to lick those three, so we need to stay away from Connie if we can.” Harper folds her arms as she stands tall, watching Eddie throw a few pieces of firewood into the fireplace. “But they knew nothin’ and they’re gonna continue knowin’ nothin’ ‘cause you’re gonna keep that loose head of yours on tight ‘cause I wanna go back, Eddie.”
“Are you crazy?”
“What about the play?” Harper meets Eddie’s gaze, not daring to look away ,even when she sees her Maker’s anger reflected in them. “When they all pounced on that woman, ‘n drained her right in front of their dumb faces? Tell me you did not feel pride.”
“I did not feel pride.” He cannot believe what she’s saying — pride? Does she realize how much she sounds like him with one single word? “We did not feel pride.”
“Yes, you did! Past your empathy,” She sidesteps mentioning you in all of this, “for that woman, past your fear of bein’ exposed. Vampire pride. Those Frenchies love bein’ vampires, and they shamed us ‘cause we never felt that way and we fuckin’ should! …’m goin’ back with or without you ‘n Canary. I want more.”
“It’s not safe there. I won’t take my wife into somethin’ like that,” Eddie rolls up his sleeves before he slowly walks towards you, offering his hands to you as a silent apology for brushing you off earlier, “Those vampires scare me-”
“-what is there to be scared of?” Harper teasingly smiles. “Other than your own lust?”
“You felt my lust?”
“Amir?” Harper giggles as Eddie blushes. “‘Felt his, too. Now I know what two blood fat cocks slappin’ hands feel like so thank you for that.”
“Harper!” You scold your daughter. “Don’t say things like that-”
“-Don’t even get me started on you ‘n him.” She hisses as Eddie grabs your hands and leads you out of the room. “You two are insufferable! Go on, run away from this ‘n take your people pictures! Worship them in the red light all you want! I want to be with my own, ‘n I know you’ll want that too, Canary!”
“Eddie, please talk to me,” You speak only when he shuts the door behind you, casting you both in a red glow as you stand amongst his hanging photographs, “whatever it is, we can handle it together.”
“Seein’ him puts me on edge,” He murmurs when he drags you over to the loveseat, where he collapses on top of you, “You feelin’ the same?”
“I… it does.” You scratch your fingernails against the back of Eddie’s neck as he nuzzles his head into your chest. “But Volt’s not what’s botherin’ you, is it?”
“That’s all it is-”
“-when I said you liked Amir, I didn’t mean it in a friendly way,” You shoot straight with him, “it’s okay, Eddie. You don’t need my permission to fall in love again.”
“What if I lose myself in him?” Eddie’s breath catches as worry nestles in his gaze. “What if I lose you again?”
“You thinkin’ of me is enough. If you feel yourself headin’ down your road, hold onto that thought. Hold onto me.” You rub his shoulders as his hands travel up and down your sides. “I’ve got you, ‘n you got me. That’s how this marriage thing works, my love. You don’t have to be the strong one all of the time.”
I know, Canary, but… there’s something I have to do before I let myself fall down this rabbithole.
“Tomorrow, there’s somethin’ I have to take care of.” Eddie dances around his plans as he speaks with you. “Find yourself a good book ‘n stay in for the night, okay?”
“You gonna be gone the whole night?” You ask before he shakes his head.
“An hour or two. ‘Won’t be too long, pretty girl.” He presses kiss after kiss to the fabric underneath your breasts. “‘Can’t stand to be apart from you for more than that.”
“I love you, Eddie, ‘n I trust you. I know you’re gonna take care of me.” Your faith in him, which feels completely unearned at this point in time, warms his heart. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we get some rest ‘n talk in the mornin’, after you’re done with your mysterious adventure for the night?”
“It’s not that excitin’,” He admits, “just somethin’ I’ve wanted to do for a while.”
Fuck, Eddie yearns to tell you of his plan, but that singular admission places him in the middle of an interrogation that he does not have all of the answers for. He can’t tell you that he’s going somewhere to get confirmation of Volt’s death because you believe Volt to be truly, unquestionably dead. Then, you’d be pissed at him for lying to you for the umpteenth time, and if you pulled at the right string and caught Eddie in his web of lies?
He shudders at what you might think or do.
Therefore, when tomorrow’s sun sets below the horizon, he’s traveling alone to a law firm that Volt had offhandedly mentioned once or twice before.
“Roget and Associates, darling,” Volt placed a tender hand on Eddie’s knee, “if anything… unfortunate were to happen to me, go there first.”
~
“We were… close friends,” Eddie’s sweating bullets as he sits in the main office of the law firm, “We owned some real estate together. A townhouse on Royal Street in New Orleans. Maybe your records reflect that?”
The lawyer in front of him says nothing as he studies Eddie’s passport with a scrutinizing gaze.
“We were separated by the war. I had some work in Europe, ‘n I took my wife ‘n daughter with me. I… lost my American passport doing that work. I’m in the process of…”
Eddie sighs, shaking his head as he runs a nervous hand through his hair.
“‘M not here for money. ‘M here to know if you’ve heard from… him. If,” Eddie hesitates before the next phase stumbles out of his mouth, “if he is alive, and if so-”
“-We have not heard from Monsieur de Lioncourt since December of nineteen-forty, when we processed several wires for him, uh…” The lawyer trails off as he tries to remember the occasion, “for a party he was throwing.”
The lawyer slides Eddie’s passport towards him.
“I know who you are, Monsieur,” That sets Eddie’s nerves on edge, as if they could be any more fried than they already are, “and I know what you and your wife meant to our cherished client, Monsieur de Lioncourt.”
“You said…” Eddie takes a deep breath in, then out, “‘meant.’”
“Perhaps he is dead,” The man opposite Eddie takes off his glasses, “or ‘sleeping’, hmm? …I have no confirmation of his actual death, and cannot declare him legally dead for years, but seeing as you and your wife are now here in Paris…”
The lawyer produces a key from his pocket before he unlocks a drawer, handing Eddie a large wooden box with a key tied to the top with a string.
“And, given the fact that he has made no withdrawals from his account, it is confirmation enough for me to pass this box to you, as instructed in case of, uh…” He shrugs, “well. I have a client arriving in twenty minutes. You may have the office.”
Eddie retrieves the key from the box before he’s even left alone in the room, and once the door shuts, he inserts the key in the lock and throws the lid open.
Two letters, along with a hefty sum of money, rest inside of the box. Eddie tucks the one labeled Ma Chérie in his inner pocket of his jacket — whatever is written there is between you and Volt, not him — and his fingers twitch in anticipation as he looks at the other letter.
Mon Chéri. God, Eddie can hear Volt calling him that in the back of his mind.
Eddie breaks the fancy red seal as he opens the folded letter, and his eyes scan the contents for the briefest of moments before a phantom hand gently pulls the letter from his grasp.
“Hmm,” Volt hums, letting his digits brush against Eddie’s shoulder as he circles the latter’s chair, “In the event that you are reading this, something dreadful has occurred, which is not my own death, but rather the fact that we both exist in two different worlds.”
He’s not real. He can’t hurt you.
Volt looks pretty fucking real as he sits in a chair, staring at Eddie as he continues to talk.
“Do not waste your life, or Canary’s, seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this. Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt. Let treachery eat away at them from within.”
Eddie’s convinced that this has to be some sort of sick joke.
“And you… you should carry on with your living. Travel the world with your darling wife, and let your hearts guide you as you take on a new adventure as a pair rather than a trio,” Volt’s voice drops to a near whisper as he speaks, “Know this, mon trésor. You and Canary are the only beings I trust, and whom I love, above and beyond myself. All my love belongs to the two of you. You and your wife are its keepers.”
Eddie, finally, gains the courage to look Volt in the eyes as they both hold back tears.
“A veil will now forever separate our union, but it is a thin veil… and I am always on the other side, face pressed up against your longing.” The letter is set upon the table as Volt finishes. “Volt de Lioncourt.”
A resounding silence surrounds Eddie. He’s left alone with a monster of his own creation, a guilt he cannot partake in except for moments like this. Moments where he can freely let the tears fall without having to answer for his actions.
…That letter never finds its way home to you. Not until many, many years later.
~
“Volt, Volt, Volt,” Dolly stretches her arms as she folds one leg over the other, “Love of my life, or is it more rebound of my life with you two?”
“It’s a haunting memory Eddie just shared with you,” Amir talks in Eddie’s place, and the latter simply stares off into a void of nothingness, “What a comfort, your ability to continue pulling humor from his pain. Cathartic.”
“It’s a joke. It’s a joke.” Dolly defends herself — is he really getting on her ass for cracking a few jokes when they’re force-feeding her this French rom-com bullshit on a gold platter, “You serve it up-”
“-You’re in your third trimester.” Eddie’s eyes snap towards Dolly, and her eyes widen in response. “You step in gum on the corner of Rues Palatine and Servandoni-”
“-the old parlor trick, huh-”
“-You made Alec scrape it off with a credit card.”
“It’s not a credit card.” Dolly corrects Eddie. “We had no credit. It’s a library card.”
“You were wearing that short purple dress, the one that kept his eyes from wandering to other women-”
“-He said he liked the way I walked in it.” She hisses. “I felt confident in it. You try bein’ nine months pregnant. See how good you feel in your fuckin’ body.”
“You felt freer to hold his hand in Paris,” Eddie cocks his head to the side, “I wonder why that is?”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“Hittin’ the garage door, Eddie. All of my shit’s there,” Dolly sighs, knowing that she can’t stop the vampire from sorting through old, bad memories, “have at it!”
Her hand begins to tremor, and the other grips onto its companion tightly as Dolly’s composure begins to unravel rapidly.
“You worked so hard to get that table right in the corner, so you could pull out the ring.” Eddie’s digging deep, towards something that Dolly had buried deep in her mind so she wasn’t reminded of the embarrassment and rejection associated with it, “Just at the right moment to surprise him because he wouldn’t propose to you-”
“-and I did surprise him!”
“And what did he say when you finally asked him to marry you?”
Bright sunlight streaming through a window. Piercing orange eyes staring at her. An uncomfortable leather jacket worn by a twenty-something-year-old trying to be cool. Amir speaks to her in a low tone. The words — unrecognizable, but familiar.
Her gaze snaps to Amir, to the Berlin nighttime skyline plastered behind him. She’s here, in Berlin… but that memory isn’t from here.
It’s from San Francisco… but I never… how did he…?
Rattled, Dolly inhales some oxygen before she’s plunged back into that memory.
“In middle school, you stole your dad’s Playboy magazines,” Amir’s hair is curled to his shoulders, a grey dress shirt on his body, “you sold them at recess.”
“Dolly,” Eddie’s voice pulls her back into the present, “I’ll ask for a third time. What did Alec say when you finally asked him to marry you?”
“Eddie,” Amir, for once, is more of a calming agent rather than an agitator, “perhaps we should-”
“-he said no.” She weakly murmurs, shaking her head and looking away from him. “Ten years between us, a kid on the way, and he still said no. …You happy, jackass?”
“He… wanted to say yes,” Amir picks up the conversation as Dolly pulls on the back of her ponytail, “but he didn’t trust you. You hadn’t given him a reason to.”
“We can tell you what he thinks of you now, if he thinks of you.” Eddie feels the need to strike yet another dagger through Dolly’s skin before Amir jumps in right afterwards.
“Or, we could simply return to the interview. If you’re willing to ask your questions and then listen, which is your job.”
I… what is happening to me? Where has my mind gone? …Fuck, I don’t have the tapes anymore. How the hell am I supposed to remember what happened back then?
“Yes.” Defeated, Dolly picks up your journal as Amir triumphantly smiles.
“Good. So… do you have a question for Eddie?”
“Um…” She thickly swallows, too afraid to say anything remotely jagged or pointed towards them. “What happened next?”
~
“You should come on a hunt with us,” Amir’s hand settles on your forearm as you watch the performance from the second-floor balcony, “attending a month of performances has struck a certain chord with the coven.”
“Just me?” You ask, lowering your voice as you watch Connie and Chance recite some dark, disturbing play about graveyards and ghosts from memory. “What about-”
“-Harper and Eddie may come too,” He chuckles under his breath, “although Drysdale might have unkind words to say about your husband if he were to attend.”
“It was one night, ‘n Eddie’s not really into this theater stuff,” Your fingers trace the lines on the back of Amir’s hand, “can you blame him for noddin’ off?”
“I suppose not,” He hums, “but Drysdale has quite the opinion of you.”
“Your whole coven appears to.” A coy smile appears on your face. “‘M not one to read thoughts, but it’s kinda hard not to when all of ‘em want to tear my clothes off ‘n have a peek at what’s underneath.”
“Adventerous, spirited, and well-meaning,” Amir reassures you, “they like variety. It’s been a long time since Drysdale joined us.”
“He’s the youngest?” You ask as the aforementioned devil soaks up all of the attention on stage. “I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“He has a way of… not acting his age.”
You snicker at Amir’s comment before you look down at the crowd, catching Eddie’s eye for a moment.
He didn’t like it when you were dragged away from his side the moment you entered the theater, only to be placed next to Amir when the show began. You hadn’t understood what the idea of this meeting was until he inquired about some of your interests and previous experiences in the States, and you carefully navigated the conversation as Harper’s bullshit story for your vampiric life in Chicago spilt from your lips.
Everythin’ alright up there?
I’m fine, my love. Really. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.
I know you can, sweetheart. ‘Can’t you give me the chance to play the hero for once?
In your dreams, Eddison. You didn’t marry a damsel who needs you to save her.
“Can I ask you somethin’?” You murmur as your eyes go back to the stage. “‘N I want you to be honest with me.”
“As I said previously, you-”
“-what are your intentions with my husband?” Your head snaps towards Amir, who smiles softly.
“The same intentions I have with you, azizam.”
His gaze burns as it travels down your body, but you’re not a naive little girl anymore. You won’t be pulled in by flashy displays of affection and grand gestures of love. You’ve been down this road before. It didn’t end well.
“There was a man, a long time ago,” You emphasize the timing, as if that’ll further separate you from Volt, “who caught the attention of me ‘n my husband. I — we — lost ourselves and each other in him. I don’t wanna make that mistake again.”
“Canary,” You grit your teeth as Volt’s sweet-like-sugar voice drips into your ear, “it’s rude to speak ill of someone. Especially when they’re dead.”
Go fuck yourself.
“How can I do that if I’m dead-”
“-I assure you that I do not intend to separate you from your husband,” Amir squeezes your arm with his fingers, “many vampires, including myself, would kill to have the bond that the two of you share.”
No, you don’t. You don’t want the pain, the trauma, the misery, and the heartache that comes with it. The unification of two souls in a way that makes them incomplete without their other half. This is not ideal for anyone, but it’s my life. I deal with the hand I’ve been dealt.
“Amir, Amir, Amir,” Volt mumbles, leaning over your shoulder to gaze at the man in question, “would you like the full experience, or shall I save you the time and heartache by telling you what I know about him?”
You’re not real. You are a figment of my imagination. Fuck. Off.
“Don’t blame me when this goes poorly,” Volt drums his fingers against Amir’s shoulder as his voice fades into the background piano accompaniment, “because it will. Trust me.”
Yeah, I don’t think so.
“’M takin’ you at your word, ‘n ‘M choosin’ to trust you, but know this,” Suddenly, you sink your claws into his flesh as you glare at him, “if you fuck my husband or my daughter over, I will personally make sure that you come to regret that decision. Do we understand each other?”
“I don’t see what caused this-”
“-We can be romantically involved, but it will not be as it is with Eddie. I’ve made that mistake once, ‘n it won’t happen again.” The guardrails you’ve placed around your heart come racing out of your mouth. “One companion — one great love — is enough for me… unless you’re worthy of more.”
You stand, brushing Amir’s hand off of your dress before you slip past him, only pausing when you reach the top set of the stairs.
“We’ll be attending your hunt tomorrow,” A beautiful, nonthreatening smile appears on your features once you notice that Eddie’s looking your way, “‘N I trust that we can keep this between us, yes?”
“I…” Amir trails off before he nods. “Of course. Bonne nuit, ma biche.”
“Bonne nuit.” You calmly say before you retreat into the darkness of the theater.
~
“We’re ridin’ on these things?” You look very unsure of yourself as you walk towards the group of motorcycles and vampires that sit outside of Theatre Des Vampires. “I’ve never-”
“-Eddie and Harper will be on sidecars,” Amir explains as he places his hands on the motorcycle’s handlebars, “you, on the other hand, will be riding with me.”
Is this even safe?
It’ll be fine, sweetheart. You’re in good hands.
Eddie pecks your cheek before he grabs your hand and helps you onto the motorcycle.
“Wrap your arms around his waist,” Eddie runs a hand through your hair as you follow his instructions perfectly, “Just like that, Canary. If you get scared, close your eyes. Imagine you’re anywhere else in the world.”
“Okay.” You lean your head forward so you can kiss him. “J’taime, Eddie.”
“Love you too.” He mumbles back, avoiding Amir’s heavy gaze for a moment.
He backs away after you nod at him, and Eddie can’t help but stare in envy at your positioning. He doesn’t know if he wants to be you, Amir, or between the two of you as he watches Amir position your hands lower on his abdomen.
“I assure you, ma biche, I am a very good driver.” His wink causes you to giggle, and the two of you leave a plume of smoke in your wake before Eddie has a chance to climb into Artt’s sidecar.
Cruising through Parisian side streets, every vampire follows Amir’s lead carefully, not daring to overtake him as he cuts a clear path through any oncoming traffic or pedestrians. Screams and shouts of delight echo through the night as the coven indulges in a kind of ecstasy that Eddie’s never seen from them before. Sure, they’re animated on stage, but that isn’t real. This is.
These emotions — freedom from the constraints of society, rebellion of the traditional and acceptance of the unusual, vampiric pleasure that can only be chased through the most extreme of means — run high, and Eddie can’t help but pull his camera out so he can capture the euphoria that spreads throughout the coven.
This is what it means to belong. Perhaps he isn’t sold on the idea of joining the coven — he’s had enough of another vampire telling him what to do and when to do it — but he can certainly understand the appeal.
Blurring streetlights, in shades of white, red, and green, make the perfect backdrop for Eddie’s masterpieces. He starts with the closest collection of vampires — Drysdale and Bathsheba, who are far more interested in each other than anything else going on around them — before he captures Harper, driven by Curt and Rod, passing by him. She grins, fangs proudly out, and Eddie finds himself wearing a smile as they maneuver right on past him.
The scenery quickly changes from closed-in streets and flashing lights galore to the humble, quiet warmth of a country road that’s lined with plenty of large, mighty trees. Sure, he’s gotten plenty of pictures of the other coven members, but his person hasn’t turned around yet.
C’mon, pretty girl, won’t you look back at me?
He’s finally in position, once Artt makes his way to the front of the pack, and you finally turn towards him with the cutest fucking smile on your face. You laugh when you notice what he’s doing, crinkling your nose and fixing your hair with one of your hands so it isn’t constantly blowing in your face.
Over the years, Eddie had forgotten what you looked like in the sunlight, but it had to pale in comparison to how the moon drenched you in its glow — a softer, kinder light for a woman who is both of those things and so much more. You look like heaven and temptation mixed together in a way that was destined to ruin him.
You ruin him.
Put your camera away, my American friend. Be one with us. If not for me, then for her.
Where are you takin’ us?
As far as our petrol will take us.
Amir revs his engine as he sails through the night, and Eddie decides to put his camera away — of his own volition, not because he was asked to by a very handsome man — as they finish the last leg of their journey.
A large, white house that looks more like a castle than a home comes into view, and Amir quickly parks his motorcycle in front of the manor, jumping off as he waits for the rest of the coven to arrive.
“The estate of the family De LaCroix,” He explains once everyone’s pulled up, “Whilst their countryman clutch ration cards, they’ve made quite a killing manipulating the black markets.”
Two guardsmen approach the gathering of vampires, and they shout in angry French until Amir casually strolls up to them.
“Drysdale, if you would-”
“-Gladly.” The aforementioned vampire walks forward, sticking his fingers in the neck of one of the men before they enter the skull of the other, “He’s going to give us the layout… Fourteen rooms. Twenty-one guests plus their hosts. Thirteen men, eight women, and… oh! Small firearms in the library bureau.”
“Enjoy yourselves.” Amir gestures for the coven to partake in the feast, and they charge into the manor without having to be told twice.
Harper goes to join them, but she stops, turning to face you, Eddie, and Amir.
“You comin’?” She asks Eddie, then you.
“I ate before the play. I’m gonna…” He trails off once he notices you stumbling off of the motorcycle. “Canary!”
“‘M dizzy. Must’ve been from the ride here.” You hold onto the seat for dear life as Amir reaches you first, helping you come to your feet as a supportive hand rests on your back. “Thank you.”
“There’s four men in the dining room,” He slowly helps you walk over to Harper, who takes your hand and listens to every word that falls from his lips, “the coven knows not to touch them.”
“I don’t need-”
“-you are — were — expecting, yes?” Amir glances at your stomach, and you protect it with your free hand. “The coven talks, and I listen when they aren’t rattling on about nonsense. Eat your fill, Canary. There’s plenty to go around.”
You bite your lip as Harper slowly leads you inside, and you nervously look back at Eddie before you enter the building.
You gonna be alright out here?
I, uh…
His eyebrows raise slightly as he gestures to Amir with his head, and you chuckle before you shake your head.
Have fun, my love. But not too much fun-
-go eat somethin’ ‘n get your nose of my business.
My business is your business, last I-
-now.
Fineeeee. I wanna hear about this later, though. No more secrets!
You and your daughter disappear inside of the building as Amir removes his red-tinted sunglasses from his face, tucking them into a pocket of his long, brown overcoat.
“I understand you supplement your diet.” Amir attempts to make polite conversation as Eddie shrugs his shoulders.
“I feast on humans every other night. It’s how I do things,” Eddie really doesn’t want to get into the semantics since they involve you, so he pivots, “You’re not gonna…?”
“I am now where I most want to be.” Amir offers him a cigarette and a lighter.
“Nice night.” Eddie stumbles hard when his fingers brush against the other vampire’s.
“Very nice.” Amir takes a puff of his cigarette before Eddie does the same.
You know what? Fuck it.
“You carry yourself well.” Eddie tries to get some sort of reading on Amir, who nods in appreciation.
“Mercí. I like how you withhold.” He pays Eddie a compliment back.
“‘Don’t know about that… cautious, maybe?”
“It’s alluring,” Amir’s words make Eddie’s cheeks heat up, “It’s practiced. I find myself thinking, ‘What is in there?’ …You share that quality with your wife.”
“We’ve been thinkin’ the same about you.” Eddie feels no need to lie when you and him have had honest conversations about Amir and how much you both like him. “‘Been thinkin’ about you often.”
You’re a bit more cautious and withdrawn then him, sure, but Eddie can see that familiar spark of curiosity and adoration in your gaze when you try to figure Amir out. You’re starting to fall into a hole that Eddie’s already accepted as his home.
“Tricky.” Amir says as the pleading of mortals is an… unusual accompaniment to their flirting attempts. “Us. Coven life can get… labyrinthian depths of… it can be tricky.”
He pauses, watching Harper grab a man that tries to escape from a second-story outside balcony, and the girl happily waves at the pair before she drags her kill inside.
“She is something, your Harper.” Amir smiles.
“A spark in the dark.” Eddie chuckles.
“Pity she was made so young,” He laments, “Imagine her in a body equal to her mind.”
Eddie doesn’t appreciate the insinuation attached to that comment — to his daughter.
“She’s managed through it-”
“-Particularly skilled at blocking her thoughts,” Amir points out, “You must work harder on that. I could help you hone that skill.”
“Really?” Eddie agrees, a little too excited at the thought of one-on-one time with the coven leader. “That’d be great.”
“Good,” Amir says before he drops a bomb on Eddie, “because I do believe I felt some trepidation when the name Volt was uttered.”
…Merde.
“Who?”
Nice response, dumbass.
“My dear American friend, who thinks of me often and who has… dominated my mind ever since I laid eyes upon him… don’t.” Amir’s gentle yet stern as he issues a warning in a low tone. “I don’t know the particulars of your acquaintance with him. You can tell me when you’re ready. But, a few of the coven can be volatile and quite unforgiving when lied to.”
Eddie says nothing, bringing his cigarette to his lips in stunned silence.
“Shut your mind if you hear his name again,” Amir glances away as he watches you walk out of the building with blood coating the front of your dress, “Also, may I suggest that you never visit, Roget, Abert, and Associates again. That sort of… inquiry can open all sorts of trouble.”
“As you suggest, maître.” That Southern politeness kicks in when Eddie knows he’s in deep shit, and Amir waves that name away as you approach them.
“Amir,” He corrects, “Maître is a coven endearment. Amir for you and for her.”
“Eddie!” You cry out his name before your hands come to his face, pulling him in for a desperately needed kiss that pulls his mind away from the worst possible outcomes of his conversation with Amir.
What have we gotten ourselves into?
“You get enough to eat?” He can taste the blood that coats your tongue, and he’d be tempted to savor such a delicacy if the rest of the coven wasn’t storming out of the building with a bound-and-gagged man thrown over Drysdale’s shoulder — for tomorrow’s show, no doubt.
“Plenty.” You grin at him, pecking his lips before you take a few bouncy steps towards Amir. “Thank you for invitin’ us out. I hope you’ll consider takin’ us out for another hunt soon.”
“Your company is enjoyed by my coven,” Amir takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, “and I’ve taken quite a liking to your… fighting spirit.”
“You ‘n Eddie are one in the same, then-”
“-This is fuckin’ perfect!” Harper squeals as she runs towards her sidecar. “I don’t wanna hunt alone again. I never want to leave. I love everybody and everythin’, in this every moment, right every now!”
“Good thing we’re stayin’ for the long haul, eh?” Your words cause the vampires around you and Harper to cheer, but you catch the lack of emotion in Eddie’s eyes before he can hide it from you. “Somethin’ wrong?”
Tell her the truth; otherwise, this gonna get out of control like it did the night you almost set her on fire, or those two weeks where she was out of it and you lied about being husband, or the night you couldn’t fucking burn Volt and you weaponized her hunger against-
“No,” Eddie lies through his teeth, mentally kicking himself all the while, “Everything’s fine.”
An Interview with the Vampire - Chapter/Episode Eleven: I'm the Powder, You're the Fuse [Part One]
a/n: splitting this into two parts because your favorite yapper, unsurprisingly, CANNOT stop yapping.
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; vampire! amir x vampire! fem! reader
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
cws: period-typical misogyny, brothels, prostitution, alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, crude/sexual humor, murder, gore, violence, blood, religious guilt, religious themes, age gap relationship, soft dom! Eddie, sub! afab! reader, oral sex, consensual somnophilia, toxic/unhealthy relationship, insecurities about reader’s body, reader is mocked for their weight, implied behaviors associated with eating disorders, internalized misogyny, unreliable narrators, emetophobia warning, domestic violence is referenced, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, fasting/starvation, slut-shaming, assumed main character death, hallucinations, generalized descriptions of the horrors of war, spoilers for s2ep2 of amc’s iwtv! some very disturbing/abusive/toxic behaviors will be discussed and possibly romanticized. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED‼️‼️‼️
summary: Paris. The city of dreams. You, Eddie, and Harper have differing dreams from each other, but you all seem to be enjoying your time in the city. Then, one night, you and Eddie encounter, and your world flips upside down once more. You’re thrust into the limelight of Theatre Des Vampires with a coven that’s connected to a certain vampire more than you’d like. A dangerous game of cat and mouse ensues, and the most likely suspect gets caught in the rat trap. Dolly’s, uh… not buying this lovey-dovey shit. Eddie and Amir can say what they want, but the written words of you and your daughter tell a completely different story. She pokes, prods, and snarks like usual, until she goes a little too far. That’s when Eddie starts to poke at her memories, leading her down uncharted territory. - 28.9k overall [read on ao3!]
Renommée des Arts — The Fame of Arts.
Your feet dangle off of the edge of the statue as you glance down at the mortals who pass you by. They’re beautiful, in how simplistic and complete their lives are, and you can’t help but be envious of them.
“Paris…” Eddie hums, glancing at Dolly as she jots down a few notes. “It’s hard to put into words now. For what Paris means to me now is… very different from what it meant to me then.”
Amir chuckles before he glances at Eddie.
“May I try?”
“Please, mon cher.”
“Paris was an awakening for Eddie, and a revolutionary experience for his darling wife.” Amir smiles when Eddie nods in approval. “Paris was a hunger.”
“Paris was many things, in those days,” Eddie sighs, “Setting aside certain events, it was a happier time for us.”
“Us?” Dolly barely glances up from her notebook. “You and your wife, or you and him?”
“It can’t be both, Dolly?” Amir proposes a question that she answers with a small snort.
Somethin’ ain’t right about them…
“The name alone, Paris-”
“-Paris sucks.” Dolly throws her notebook aside as she cuts Amir off.
“But you proposed to your first husband in Paris.” He points out, taking a bit of satisfaction in the way she recoils at the mention of her previous lover.
“And he divorced me in Staten Island,” Dolly tosses a snarky response his way, once again resuming their verbal conflict for yet another round, “Paris sucks.”
“Paris is a universe all to herself, hollowed and fashioned by history.” Amir smiles as Dolly reaches for your diary next.
On your right — Harper, who glances at the city with a far-off look in her eyes. She hasn’t been herself since Romania, and you don’t know what to do to bring her back. To see your darling daughter grappling with the same grief and hopelessness that dominated your first few years as a vampire is mortifying and humbling, all in one go. How does one reach out to another in that situation, when the first has yet to understand why she felt that way?
A hand on the small of her back is your chosen form of comfort, and it seems to work for the briefest of moments as she softly smiles at you. It’s gone in an instant, though, and she’s back to being hollow from the inside-out as she observes the Parisian streets from her vantage point.
Your gaze then shifts to the person on your left — Eddie. Your Eddie, who stirs such strong, beautiful, terrifying, and wonderful emotions inside you. Whose heart reflects your own misery and strife, and whose happiness comes alongside yours.
Harper had implied, in your last moments in New Orleans, that Eddie and Volt shared a heart. If that was the case, why, then, did you feel Eddie’s emotions as if they were your own? Why did your soul seem to yearn for him, at such a fundamental level that’s hard to explain in written words? Surely, if any of your trio were to share a heart, it’d be you and Eddie, right?
Eddie places an arm around your shoulder, shifting closer to you as he skims over a newspaper that details the aftershocks of a brutal war. Your head lands on his chest as your finger twirls around a strand of your hair, humming in contentment as he looks down at you.
“You feelin’ better, sweetheart?”
An easy question with a complicated answer. You want to say yes, because days in Paris were miles better than years wandering in war-torn foreign countries, but seeing your daughter so dejected makes you upset in ways that you can’t possibly explain to Eddie. Partially because there are no good words that’ll accurately express the joy and existential dread that somehow co–exist in your mind, and partially because it’ll spur another argument between the pair.
You love them both dearly, but would it fucking pain them to get along for five minutes? To speak to each other without slights being added into the conversation? You understand both sides of the story — Harper’s pissed at Eddie for what happened back in New Orleans and how he still carries Volt in his heart to this day, while Eddie’s upset with Harper for dragging you through literal hell-on-Earth for four years, and the only thing you had to show for it was an old world female vampire who went up in flames mere hours after you met her.
If it wasn’t arguing, it was an uncomfortable silence that was shared among the three of you, or one suffering in silence while you chatted to the other.
You’d say that the two of them act like father and daughter if both of them wouldn’t immediately protest in disagreement over such a statement.
“Macarons are bullshit, café culture is boring.” Dolly mumbles as she turns through page after page of turbulent, mixed emotions that don’t match the revolutionary experience that Amir’s trying to sell her.
“Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time,” Eddie explains as he squeezes Amir’s shoulder, “it was healing, just as Harper, Canary, and I were healing.”
“Oh, you and your daughter were really healing,” Dolly taps a page of your diary before she reads your words aloud, “‘My husband and daughter were heaven and hell, hot and cold, attraction and repulsion — two fundamental forces that would always oppose each other. They couldn’t agree on the simplest of things. If one said it was raining, the other would find a way to disprove the rainfall that pounded against our outstretched umbrellas. Did neither of them realize that their quarreling would tear my heart in two?’”
“We never saw eye-to-eye, especially after we fought in Romania-”
“-I got that.” Dolly glares at Eddie. “So, your relationship with your wife was healing, and your wife’s relationship with your daughter was healing. There was no love lost between you and Harper. That’s for fuckin’ sure.”
“Gotta pick twice the pockets in this town to get anywhere.” Harper adds a bit of commentary that makes you smile as she plays with some change in her hands.
Her voice is such a rare gift, as she often lives in isolating silence that you never understood the harm of until you were on the other side of it. Was she mad at you for staying with Eddie? Did she despise you for being unhappy until you stumbled into a place that was more suited for your tastes?
Why does your happiness have to come at the cost of hers? Why can’t you both be happy? Why is that such a large ask?
“Confiance en vaut plusieurs si on prend du temps pour la trouver.” Eddie murmurs, and your brows furrow as Harper stops counting coins to look at him.
“What?”
“Truth is more valuable if it takes you a few years to find it.”
His translation makes you giggle, as it isn’t fully accurate.
“Eddie,” You start, “my love, it’s-”
“-what you said is, ‘Trust is worth several if we take a few years to find it.’” Harper gleefully corrects Eddie, who scoffs.
“It’s been a few years. I’m rusty,” He, then, nudges your shoulder before he pecks your cheek, “‘heard you laugh at me, Canary. ‘M sorry that not all of us can be as pretty ‘n perfect as you are.”
You throw your head back and laugh gleefully as Eddie sprinkles kisses on the side of your face and down your neck.
“Lotta rust,” Harper interrupts as she pockets the coins and throws the coin purses off of the edge of the statue, “and ‘m lookin’ for francs and diamonds. Truth doesn’t pay the rent.”
And here they go again.
“No salt, no butter, can’t have milk unless you have a newborn,” Eddie reads off of the newspaper as you lay a comforting hand on his arm, “‘Hospitals are running low on plaster for a record number of broken bones due to decalcification and undernourishment.’ You want francs in pockets? You ain’t gonna find it here.”
“...Maybe we chose the wrong town.” Harper softly whispers, causing you to frown.
You’ve loved every minute you’ve spent in Paris. Sure, it wasn’t an extravagantly wealthy place, but it was full of life and culture that rejuvenated your body and gave you plenty of reasons to stay.
“‘Saw a woman tonight, in a patchy, five-year-old dress, puttin’ on a brand new lipstick,” You off-handedly mention, piquing Harper’s interest.
“And what’s that supposed to say, Mama?”
“‘Says Paris is on her way back,” Eddie answers for you, “Give her a little time.”
You place a hand on your husband’s cheek, pulling him closer to you so your lips can brush against his.
“What makes you think Paris is a woman?” You challenge as he softly chuckles after he presses his lips to yours.
“Now I know you’re hungry.” He smirks as you kiss his cheek.
“Tellin’ me what a woman is…” You roll your eyes as Harper throws a beautiful diamond ring your way. “I’ll tell you what a woman is.”
You place the ring on your right-hand, and Eddie quickly brings said hand to his lips so he can kiss the ring and the finger it belongs to.
Ah, yes, another part of the secret language that the two of you share. That one, however, is more of an apologetic ‘I’m sorry, mon ange, I won’t do it again’ rather than some sort of lovey-dovey confession. You still appreciate the gesture, placing your hand over your heart as Eddie offers you a hand to help you stand.
“Where do you want to hunt? Bourse looks dark.” He asks as your eyes scan the land cover in front of you.
“Always follow the blackouts,” Harper softly chides, “Blackouts are easy. No one questions if five bodies show up in the middle of the night. People are starvin’ to death in those areas.”
Maybe your improvement in mood can be attributed to the dramatic increase in your blood consumption. For the last few years, you were barely eating enough to survive, and now, armed with the knowledge of what your body truly needs, you were able to nourish yourself fully. It’s easier to think of happier things when your mind isn’t harassing you to drink more than your fill of blood.
“So you want a hard meal of francs ‘n diamonds, ‘n for heaven to open up ‘n rain down milk stoles, is that it?” Eddie carefully teases Harper, scanning her face for a displeasured expression that never comes; instead, to your absolute joy, she smiles at Eddie’s remark.
“That’d be a great start.”
“It’s custom and practice for traveling vampires to make themselves known to a local coven.” Amir folds one knee over the other as Eddie wears a semi-blank expression.
“We… didn’t get that memo,” He smiles when Amir looks his way, “De Gaulle’s Paris had Canary hypnotized, as I was to her. We didn’t have the time to-”
“-Ah! The whitest of lies that just turned eighty this past year,” Amir chuckles as he addresses Dolly directly, with much less aggression than their previous encounter, “do not leave Berlin until you’ve had him retract it.”
“Uh-huh.” Dolly pays both men no mind, now moving to her computer to shuffle through a few of her typed notes.
“Canary loved Paris. That’s the fucking truth,” Eddie argues, “she had a place where she could be herself. She wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder to see if someone was going to make an out-of-place comment about her body, or wave away her mind because she didn’t look like me.”
“Right, because sexism wasn’t a thing in mid-twentieth-century Europe.” Dolly rolls her eyes before the two men answer her.
“I didn’t say that-”
“-he didn’t say that.”
They speak together, with overlapping voices, like a well-oiled machine. A well-practiced machine, if Dolly’s truly being honest with herself.
Aren’t these two fucking cute? Speakin’ at the same time, askin’ each other for help tellin’ the story… yeah, I’m over it.
“Are you two gonna finish each other’s sentences for the whole session?” She wags an accusatory finger at Eddie and Amir as she leans forward in her chair.
“We’ve been together for seventy-seven years, Dolly.” Eddie clarifies as Amir cockily smiles.
“Fifty-two more than he shared with Volt,” Amir hums lightly, “shall we let the math of that settle before continuing?”
Dolly scrunches her nose at the pair.
“Keep sellin’ it.”
“We lived in a small apartment, somethin’ that could fit the three of us without drawing much attention to what we were,” Eddie continues on, despite the slight from the reporter, “we disposed of our kills properly-”
“-my coven had to constantly clean up for them.” Amir scoffs as Dolly glances at him.
“And yet you never made contact with him or Canary?” She asks as Eddie softly chuckles.
“Thank you. Five months of anxiety-producing choices, and not one ‘bonjour’ or ‘préparez-toi a mourir.’”
“Customs and practices.” Amir reminds Eddie with a loving pat on his leg.
“Parisian vampires are prideful monsters.”
“You and your girls,” Dolly takes note of how Amir doesn’t seem to like to address you or your daughter by your names unless he must, as the man in question speaks, “lived two kilometers from our theater in Pigalle.”
“Volt took me to hundreds of shows, I didn’t want to-”
“-a theater called Theatre Des Vampires,” Amir talks freely, as Eddie mockingly repeats the words he’s heard hundreds of times from Amir’s mouth, “A company that had been in existence for a hundred and fifty years!”
Amir laughs once he realizes what Eddie had been doing behind his back.
“Seventy-seven years, and it still feels like a slight.”
“Pride.” Eddie whispers as Dolly chooses to nod in agreement, giving up on deciphering whatever the fuck is going on with those two for the moment.
“The reports were confounding,” Amir states, “but they all agreed on one thing. My coven was enamored with the girl that hung off of the depressed American’s arm-”
“-is that what your coven called me?” Eddie wears a surprised expression as Amir waves away his shock.
“The younger girl and the man always wore dour expressions, but their mutual companion was a beauty for the ages,” Amir smiles fondly, “Eddie’s wife is smart, kind, funny, thoughtful, and she speaks fluent French… I think Drysdale and the others would’ve kidnapped her if I hadn’t stepped in. They were called La Beauté Américaine et ses deux compagnons ennuyeux by my coven.”
“You think I’m the boring one out of-”
“-two of the three American vampires proved to be as boring and plain as their soldiers and tourists were.” Amir finishes as Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Rude.”
“Okay,” Dolly politely claps her hands together, drawing the attention in the room back to her, “can we get back to our story, or are you two gonna squabble all-damn-night?”
~
Arm-in-arm with Eddie, you found yourself walking towards your small, second-floor apartment in Le Neuvième. It was far too easy to pretend to be well-off Americans, since that had been your position for most of your mortal and immortal life. Overpaying for black-market baguettes, letting Eddie and Harper stumble through some French while you giggled at their mistakes… it was the perfect cover.
Unlike your home in New Orleans, no bodies ever graced the door of your Parisian apartment. The sewers allowed for easy clean-up, so you could clean your hands in the river once the mortals were taken care of.
I don’t know if we’re properly taking care of them, but I trust Eddie when he says that we don’t have to worry about burning the bodies.
You’re the first of your trio to enter your home, as Eddie holds the door open for you and Harper. Sometimes, you wonder if he picked this place out for you since the wallpaper in each and every room is white with a different flower painted upon the blank canvas. Roses in the entryway, daisies in the bedroom, hydrangeas in a bathroom that’s become nothing more than an additional storage closet, and, finally, forget-me-nots placed upon the secondary bedroom that had become a darkroom since your husband had taken up photography as a hobby.
Nothing had excited you more than seeing your husband dip his toes into something creative. You and Harper were writers, even if she was more recreational while you sought to publish your now half-completed final draft of a novel that was romantic, sensual, terrifying, and real. A typewriter sped up the process, as you no longer had to write your corrections upon corrections in ink, and you were thrilled to start looking for publishers when the seasons changed and your novel was ready for a new, fresh set of eyes.
Perhaps I could ask Eddie to capture a picture for the front cover? He’s been practicing for a few months.
Originally, you thought the camera was a gift for you when Eddie walked through the front door with his new treasure.
“You pick somethin’ off of one of your kills?” You asked, noticing the camera in his hands as he shrugged his coat off of his shoulders.
“Yeah. ‘Took me a while to figure out how it worked, but…” Eddie trailed off before he pointed the lens at you.
You didn’t realize what he was doing until a multitude of photos were already taken through the shuttering lens, and you broke out in laughter before you charged towards Eddie, tackling him in a sweet hug as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“You’re supposed to take pictures of the landscape, fountains, monuments, ‘n a lot of other things that are pretty.” You said as you shyly hid your head in his chest. “Don’t waste all of your film on me.”
“By that logic, you’re the only thing I should be takin’ pictures of ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He chuckled as he placed a hand on your head before he pecked your forehead, “thanks for the idea, mon ange.”
“That’s not what I meant.” You huffed as his other arm went to one of your hips.
“I’ll need a lot of practice before I’m half-decent at this,” He softly explained, “that’s why I wanna take pictures of you. ‘Can’t mess up somethin’ that’s already perfect.”
“Eddison, you flatter me far too often-”
“-not flattery, Canary,” His eyes crinkled as he glanced at you, “just the truth.”
Being your husband’s muse took some getting used to. You tried dressing a little fancier, wearing a bit more make-up on your skin so you could hide the jagged, slightly faded mark on your left cheek but he wouldn’t have it.
“The pictures turn out better when you’re actin’ like yourself,” Eddie had said, “You look good when you’re wearing the clothes you like, ‘n the pictures show it.”
For someone who claims to not dabble in flattery or praise, he’s certainly good at it when he’s talking to you.
You love the photos that decorate the walls of your apartment, even though half of them are of your face. Sometimes you’re wearing a smile because of something Harper said that made you laugh. Other times, you’re looking off in the distance, studying something with a cute pout on your face as you try to decipher its meaning.
Your favorite photo, however, is sat next to your side of the bed. You, Eddie, and Harper had tried to sleep in separate rooms before Eddie found that camera; however, the three of you were tossing and turning all night, and you all quickly came to an agreement that you were to sleep in the same room to conserve everyone’s sanity and sleep schedules.
Harper’s twin-sized bed is off to the left, the covers neatly folded along the edge of the bed as pretty pink sheets reflect the moonlight that pours in from the balcony window. Closer to the middle of the bedroom is the queen-sized bed that’s decorated in bedding materials that are your favorite colors because God forbid Eddison pick out something that he likes for his living space.
The beds aren’t what they seem, as a gentle hand pushing the false bedding into the air will reveal a small coffin under Harper’s bed, and a much bigger coffin for you and Eddie under yours.
You greatly missed the days where the two of you could slumber next to each other, as Volt took your place in Eddie’s coffin during the last few months of his life, and now you could actually do so without the risk of accidentally shoving your knees into your husband’s back due to the lack of space.
You toss your coat on said bed, drawing closer to the only photo of yourself that you truly adore. It’s not a front facing shot of you — hell, you could barely tell it was you in the photo — but you still like the image as it is.
You were facing away from the lens, looking straight at the moon as its softer beams painted your figure in a heaven-sent glow. In this singular photo, you finally understood everyone’s praise when it came to your looks. You really were nothing special, but in the right lighting and with a dress that, perhaps, dipped down your back a little too low?
You are fucking magnificent.
“You don’t get enough of my face already?” You joke.
“I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful in all of ‘em,” Eddie murmurs into your ear as his hands wrap around your middle, “that’s why I have so many of you.”
You’ve been inseparable from your companions since you arrived on European soil, and you can’t remember a time in the past few years when you’ve been well and truly alone. The companionship is wonderful, especially when Eddie and Harper can, on the rare occasion, set aside their feuding and enjoy a bit of family time together. You don’t care that it distracts you from your novel or your journaling — you have decades upon decades to do such things.
Besides, the journals are for your own personal satisfaction. It’s not like anyone’s gonna read them, right?
“No,” Eddie honestly answers, making your face warm in response, “I see you every night, when you’re next to me, ‘n I see you in my dreams. Call me greedy, but that still ain’t enough for me.”
“You are greedy, mon cœur,” You place your hands over Eddie’s once you set the photo back onto the nightstand, guiding them further down your body, “greedy for my love, my attention, my heart, my body, my-”
“-we’re playin’ cards ‘til the sun comes up.” Harper charges into the room, making you startle and throw Eddie’s hands off your body as you nervously bite your lip and look away from him. “‘N no cheatin’ this time, Canary.”
“I don’t cheat!” Offended, you place a hand over your heart as you put on the tiniest pout that’ll have Eddie on his knees for you. “Eddie, honey, you know ‘m good at cards-”
“-I taught her how to play, ‘n she can beat my ass without readin’ my mind,” Eddie softly kisses your lips, smiling when your pout disappears afterwards, “she did it before we were vampires. Your mother used to hustle my old business partner for money, ‘n he fell for it every goddamn time.”
“Pride is a monster,” You warn as you drag a chair over to a small table, where Harper sits and waits for you and Eddie, “‘n a man’s pride is the biggest of all. It was Tony’s own damn fault if he thought that I was some dumb, naive little girl who happened to get lucky every time we played.”
“That’s my girl.” Eddie wears the same pride you just demeaned as you both take a seat at the table. “I think you’re the only person in the world who can say somethin’ mean with the prettiest smile on your face, sweetheart.”
“It’s not mean if it’s true.” You sneer before he tilts his head back and laughs.
“Keep talkin’, pretty girl. We’ll see where that attitude gets you.” He speaks in that soft, low, gooey tone that has your insides melting and your thighs squeezing together as you try to push out any and all inappropriate thoughts of him when you’re around your child.
The girl’s old enough to know what sex is, but you don’t want her in the middle of your trysts with Eddie. You feel like you’re back in your bar again, sneaking off while no one’s watching so the two of you can fully enjoy one another in private.
Stop it, stop it, get him out of your mind!
“What are we playin’?” You ask as you place your hands on the table.
“Thirty-one,” Harper misses the nervous glances that you and Eddie exchange, “since you cheat at poker, ‘n blackjack, ‘n-”
“-Again, I do not cheat!” You squawk, to the amusement of your two companions. “Deal the fuckin’ cards, ‘n then you can talk shit.”
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Eddie murmurs before he scowls when you lightly kick his shin with your foot, “for fuck’s sake, Canary.”
A soft squeal escapes your lips when Eddie reaches under the table and pinches some skin on your thigh with his fingers.
“Hey!” You attempt to lightly smack his shoulder, but he anticipates your movement and carefully pins your wrist to the table as he raises his eyebrows at you. “That’s unfair!”
“My love, that’s how I get you to do everythin’ for me.” You tease before you steal a quick kiss from his lips, causing Eddie to blush once he realizes that Harper’s been watching this whole exchange silently as she shuffles a deck of cards in her hands that she looted off of today’s meal.
“You wanna talk about playin’ fair, mon ange? You hit me first.” Eddie rolls his eyes as you softly pout. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t say no to you when you’re poutin’.”
You slide your hand into his, intertwining your fingers with his after he releases your hand from his grasp.
“Out of all of the women in the world, I had to choose the strangest one,” Eddie sighs before a gentle smile appears on his face, “Merde, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Canary.”
“Love you too, Eddie.” You squeeze his hand as you feel your face heat up, and Harper loudly clears her throat as she begins to deal.
“I think you two know me well enough,” She starts, “this isn’t for shits ‘n giggles. I wanna ask the two of you somethin’, but it’s personal and you can say no-”
“-ask away, ma fleur.” Sat in-between your daughter and your husband, you reach over to brush some hair out of her face. “We’re both open books, to each other and to you.”
Eddie briefly wears a grim expression that you can’t quite decipher before Harper takes a deep breath in, then out.
“What was your life like before me ‘n… him?” She sets the remaining cards in the middle of the table before she picks up her hand. “I read Canary’s diaries, as you both know, but I still don’t know anythin’ from before you ‘n Eddie got together.”
“I…” You begin to sweat, suddenly realizing that your daughter has read the pages where you describe your intimate encounters with Eddie and Volt in excruciating detail, “...I wasn’t really happy back then. I was naive, sheltered, ‘n so dumb-”
“-don’t talk about yourself like that.” Eddie cuts you off, a stern look sent your way as you quickly retract your statement.
“Sorry, mon chéri, but it’s kinda the truth. I didn’t know anythin’ ‘bout the real world ‘til my parents kicked me out of their home,” You chuckle as you notice Harper’s curious gaze, “I got caught with the gardener’s daughter. ‘Wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“What happened to her?” Harper asks a naive question that pulls at your heartstrings — an old wound that festers, feeling fresh whenever someone pokes at it.
“She died.” You plainly state. “Y’know Prissy, the girl from my diaries?”
“She was-” Harper stops, thinking to herself for a moment. “-she died the night I was turned.”
“I wrote about her a lot, tryin’ to cope with her death,” You bite your lip as you glance at Eddie, who makes sure to not meet your eyes as he pretends to be more interested in the fine-grained wooden table than you, at the moment, “‘Haven’t seen anyone besides your father since. Losin’ her was like losin’ a part of my heart ‘n a part of myself.”
“Your mother ‘n your father,” Your daughter pivots once she notices you wiping away some blood from your eyes, “they weren’t kind to you, were they?”
“I was one of many children.” You explain as Eddie’s hand creeps up your arm, occasionally squeezing your flesh as a reminder that he’s here for you. “Plenty were older than me, plenty were younger than me. ‘Wasn’t very good at anythin’, so they sold me off like prized cattle when I was deemed old enough to marry.”
“How old were you when your father…?” Harper trails off, throwing a card from her own hand into the discard pile after she takes a card from the deck.
“Fifteen.” You murmur. “But my mama wanted me to wait ‘til I was twenty. I thought she was lookin’ out for me, but I heard her talkin’ with my daddy one night. She told him that she interfered ‘cause she thought I wasn’t gonna carry a baby to full term. All of that fuss for a baby that didn’t even fuckin’ exist yet.”
You sigh, your hand coming down to cradle your stomach as Eddie gently rubs your shoulder.
“The man I was supposed to marry was nearly thirty years older than Eddie,” You words cause Harper to wince as she bangs her fist against the table, signaling for the round to come to end once you and Eddie draw one last time, “so who knows if I would’ve been able to give him an heir, anyways.”
“Your siblings?” Harper places her cards against the table as you pick up a two of hearts that you quickly discard.
“‘Didn’t talk to me after I left. I was close to the ones that were around my age, but my parents drew a line in the sand, ‘n they chose not to cross it.” You shrug. “I’ve kinda been on my own most of my life. I quickly learned that if I wanted a family of my own, I had to build it from scratch.”
“So you built one with Eddie.” Harper hums in understanding before she flips over her hand. “Twenty-five. You?”
“Twenty-seven.” A tiny smile appears on your face when she frowns. “Eddie?”
“Twenty-three-”
“-thank fuckin’ God.” She sighs in relief as she hands her cards, plus the untouched part of the deck and the discard pile, to Eddie.
“Canary,” He whispers your name, speaking to you in a soft tone, “I didn’t want you ‘cause you could give me a family. You were always gonna be enough for me. I love you ‘cause you’re smart, ‘n sweet, ‘n kind, ‘n you make me laugh.”
“But our baby-”
“-is a part of you, ‘n she makes me love you more ‘n more with every passin’ day,” Eddie’s words cause you to wipe bloody tears from your cheeks, “I was blessed with the best fuckin’ wife. ‘M sorry that the people who should’ve loved ‘n cared for you didn’t, ‘n I will spend the rest of my life makin’ up for their mistakes. You deserve more love than I can give you, sweetheart.”
“Eddie, honey, you’re makin’ me cry,” You choke out the words as Eddie sets the cards down to bring you into his arms, “You’re my home. You’re my person. You make me feel so safe ‘n loved, even when the rest of the world has gone to shit.”
“I know, pretty girl. ‘Can feel it every time you kiss or hug me,” Eddie tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear, “that’s all I want to be for you. Anythin’ you ever need is yours. I’ll find a way to make it yours. Nothin’ is too big of an ask for you.”
That’s why you love him so much. Not ‘cause he’s a man ripped from the pages of a romance novel, or ‘cause he sweeps you off of your feet every second of every day. Eddie’s your rock. The person you can hold onto when you need someone, who gets you without you havin’ to say a world.
You’ll find someone like that. …Maybe the Parisian streets have a companion for you.
No one will want to spend eternity with a woman trapped in a little girl’s body-
You don’t know that, Harper. Someone will find you to be everything that he’s ever wanted, and he’ll be the one to choose you. When the rest of the world turns their backs on you, he will not.
Just men?
No, Harper, not just men. Maybe your future companion is a woman, if you’re open to that.
…I think I am.
You have plenty of time, Harper. Don’t rush into anything. Let your heart and mind guide you to your person.
“Thank you, my love. Truly.” You kiss his cheek as your legs straddle his. “Harper, I hope you don’t mind me tappin’ out for a few rounds. That way, you don’t have to worry about me tryin’ to swindle you ‘n Eddie.”
“He’s soft on you,” Harper’s bark is back, as if you didn’t just have a sentimental conversation in your minds, “that’s why he’s off his game.”
“God forbid I love my wife.” Eddie chuckles, placing a warm hand on your back as he shifts you closer to him. “Do you want to change, or are you comfortable in what you’re wearin’?”
“This is fine,” You murmur before he kisses you, “just wanna be close to you.”
“If that’s what you want,” Eddie takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips, softly kissing the palm of your hand, “as long as you’re happy, ‘m happy.”
“I am.” You mutter as Eddie begins to shuffle the cards.
“Alright, Mama answered my question. Your turn, Eddie.” Harper quickly places the conversation back on track, according to her, before your husband shakes his head.
“My story’s better than hers, but not by much,” Eddie honestly admits, “I was an only child. My mother ‘n my father didn’t talk much after they had me. They slept in different rooms ‘til I got the fuck out of there. Not sure what happened to them afterwards, but ‘m sure it wasn’t anythin’ pleasant. Tried findin’ my way in the world ‘n found Tony instead, ‘n somehow I got pulled into doin’ the books for Azalea Hall.”
“The brothel where you met my mother,” Harper adds on, “was there another before her?”
“No one important. She wasn’t the girl who made my heart race when she smiled at me,” Eddie’s body heats up as you snuggle closer to him, “I wasn’t like this before I met Canary. Somethin’ changed in me… She made — makes — me a better person. ‘Can’t stand the thought of not havin’ her in my life.”
“You two really are companions, huh…” Harper folds her arms over her chest as you feel Eddie shift you in his arms so he can deal to her and himself. “Anythin’ you haven’t told each other?”
“We share a heart ‘n a mind, it’s hard for us to…” He trails off when he notices you looking away from him. “Canary, sweetheart-”
“-it’s nothin’-”
“-if it’s troublin’ you, it ain’t nothin’,” He grumbles, “you’ve been keepin’ somethin’ from me.”
“‘Didn’t wanna get anyone in trouble.” You watch as Eddie tilts his head closer to yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.
Eddie, it’s an embarrassin’ story ‘cause what was said to me was true-
-I fuckin’ guarantee it wasn’t. When was this?
When we were in Azalea Hall, and it’s not something I want to make a fuss about. It’s not the first time someone’s said somethin’ mean about my body to me-
“-Spill. Now.” His elongated fingernails go up and down your back. “I’ll get it out of you, one way or another.”
“There was a girl, one of Tony’s girls,” You begin to explain, “I didn’t think anythin’ of the way she looked at me, even though the other girls said it wasn’t good. Not ‘til she said somethin’ to my face.”
You really weren’t trying to cause any trouble. You stayed out of everyone’s way and simply observed those who came and went through the front doors of Azalea Hall, like Eddie asked you to.
There was a girl — not one of Tony’s favorites, but one he employed nonetheless — and her eyes always seemed to be on you. Watching your every move as you floated through packed room after packed room, seemingly trying to find a mistake in your appearance or words that would warrant a further investigation. Not that she needed a justifiable cause, since you found her rooting through your things one night, after you accompanied Eddie in his study until the moon was high in the sky.
“I got lost,” She said as she held a piece of your clothing in her hands, “Excuse me.”
You weren’t stupid. You knew that she didn’t accidentally stumble in there, and you were relieved to find your journals undisturbed. You couldn’t imagine what someone with a potential grudge against you would do with your deepest secrets and worst fears, expressed in plain language for anyone to exploit.
On the days preceding this incident, you decided to ask around, seeing if anyone knew why this woman would do such a thing. And, to your surprise and somewhat delight, most of Tony’s girls told you that she was jealous of Eddie’s specialized treatment towards you.
“What special treatment?” You naively asked, causing all of the girls to laugh as they waved you off.
There was no special treatment, as far as you knew, but you were ecstatic that Eddie could possibly be thinking of you as more than a mere girl that he employed.
Everything came to a head when Betty asked you to join the other girls for a late brunch one afternoon, as she wanted to celebrate the financial success of Azalea Hall in the past three months. She placed sole responsibility for that on your shoulders, but you shook your head in disagreement. You were doing your job, whispering state secrets in Eddie’s ear, and it was nothing more than that. You weren’t doing the hard work that Betty and the other girls did every night.
Still, you came down those stairs to join Betty and the others in one of the main rooms. You usually took your meals alone, or with Eddie and Tony when they had something to discuss with you about what you saw or overheard, so it was a bittersweet experience to sit around a table with a large group of people. It reminded you of a family that didn’t accept you for who you were, and how much you missed them despite that fact.
It was going smoothly — too smoothly, you realized after the fact — until that girl took a seat next to you after you gathered what you thought was a normal, healthy portion of food on your plate.
“You sure you can eat all of that?” She giggled, hiding her face behind her hands. “That’s a lot of food.”
“That’s what I normally eat for lunch.” You frowned at her slight, which you assumed to be accidental in the moment. “I skipped breakfast, so I might’ve grabbed a little more than I-”
“-I don’t think you need to eat breakfast.” The woman’s eyes trailed down your body, and your hands wrapped around your sides as you felt your heart constrict at her words.
“Excuse me?” You — a sweet, innocent version of you — still assumed the best of her, that she didn’t mean to say such a thing to you.
“I think you heard me,” Her fingers then suddenly jabbed into the space between your arms, grabbing at the fabric of your dress as she sneered at you, “aren’t these custom-made for your size?”
“I-” You were flabbergasted by her sheer audacity, “Are you really talkin’ to me that way?”
“‘M tryin’ to figure out what makes you so special, ‘cause it ain’t your looks, sweetheart,” The nickname from the girl’s lips is said with much more venom than you’re used to, “are you a good fuck? ‘Cause that’s the only reason that someone like Eddie would be interested in you.”
“Interested in me?” You repeated, keeping your voice down as a few eyes glanced in your direction. “He’s not, I can assure you of that-”
“-there has to be somethin’ interestin’ about Little Miss Piggy.” She interrupted you, and the last nail in the coffin was the mocking snort of a pig that fell from her lips.
You burst into tears, quickly rushing back up the stairs before anyone could come close to you. Endless thoughts and memories swirled around in your mind, of your mother and father saying similar things to you as you grew up.
No man would want to live with a woman who had an appetite like yours, your clothes would burst from the seams if you dared to have another serving of your favorite food, and your body was growing in all of the wrong places as they poked and prodded at your tummy.
You weren’t sure how you ended up at a toilet, nor the reason for you throwing up — was it anxiety of the past and the present, or did you make yourself sick to feel better in some fucked up way? — but the little food that was in your body quickly exited the space via your mouth.
Burning bile in your throat and fresh tears that cascaded down your cheek were your only friends until you felt someone’s fingers pull at the back of your corset.
“I’m here, honey. Just breathe,” Betty softly instructed as a sob ripped its way out of your throat, “You’ll be alright, Canary. Let me get this thing off of you, and then I’ll get your hair out of your face.”
A gasp of relief left you as the corset fell from your waist, and her hands gently pushed your hair out of your face before someone knocked on the door.
“Betty,” Eddie’s voice cut through the fatigue and fear of judgement in your mind, “tell me that it’s not her.”
“I don’t know what happened, but Canary…” She trailed off when the door slammed open, and she let out a noise of disapproval when your skittish self didn’t even jump at the sound, “at least the poor thing’s breathing on her own.”
“Canary,” He always spoke so gently to you, even when he was teasing you, “did you eat somethin’ bad? What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” You murmured as you wiped your tears away with your fingers, “I don’t feel good.”
“I see that,” He chuckled before he placed a hand on your back, “c’mere, sweetheart. I’ll carry you back to your room.”
“But tonight, I-”
“-tonight, you’re gonna sit your ass in bed and relax.” Eddie said, and you knew not to argue with his words. “Did you finish those books I got you?”
“A couple of ‘em,” You let Eddie wipe your lips with a handkerchief before you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I really liked Wuthering Heights, even though it ain’t a romance novel in the slightest-”
“-why didn’t you say somethin’ to me, Tony, or Betty? We would’ve-”
“-Betty got it out of me a few days later,” You admit cutting Eddie off as you pull yourself out of that memory, “‘didn’t see her much after that.”
“Y’know you’re beautiful, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, just for you to hear, “People can’t stop tellin’ me how lucky I am to have you. ‘Heard it all of the time, back when you were workin’ for me.”
“You fought off my potential suitors, huh?” A soft snort escapes you. “How noble of you.”
“I wanted you all to myself,” Eddie grumbles, “and that was, apparently, too much to ask. Everyone kept askin’ me about the pretty girl that I had taken underneath my wing.”
“‘N ‘m the greedy one,” You giggle, “alright, Eddison, do you have any life-changin’ secrets you want to share with the class?”
“Him?” Harper snorts. “He’s as interestin’ as a pile of bricks-”
“-be nice.” You jump in to scold your daughter. “The stage is yours, if you’re willin’.”
“You promise?” You sweetly gaze at your husband. “‘Cause I told you, when you first asked me to marry you, that I wouldn’t have a husband who lies to me. If there’s somethin’ on your chest, I-”
“You know everythin’ about me, Canary,” Eddie’s breath catches before he answers, “I have nothin’ to hide from you.”
“-I’d say it to you.” He squeezes your hip with his hand. “I won’t hide anythin’ from you.”
“Good.” You murmur as you peck Eddie’s lips. “We shouldn’t have any more secrets if we’re gonna be a proper family.”
You miss Harper’s piercing gaze and the way Eddie sweats underneath it as you slowly drift in and out of consciousness. Time slips away from you, and before you know it, you’re tucked into your shared coffin with Eddie, swaddled in blankets and your favorite pajamas as he peppers kisses on your face.
“Weren’t we just at the table?” You sleepily mumble as you roll over, subconsciously placing an arm around Eddie as he closes the lid to the coffin before he draws you closer.
“You fell asleep, mon ange. It’s almost sunrise,” He whispers into the crook of your neck, “rest.”
“Thank you for takin’ me here,” You yawn, stretching your toes as sleep threatens to consume you whole once more, “I like bein’ in Paris. Everyone’s nice, ‘n no one’s tryin’ to kill us.”
“That’s a plus, ain’t it?” Eddie laughs into your ear. “‘M happy that you’re smilin’ ‘n laughin’ again. It’s been so long since I’ve seen your pretty smile.”
“‘N now you see it every day,” You grin at him, even if he can’t see you in the darkness, “I hope Harper can find somethin’ for herself here. Even if it’s not other vampires.”
You too, Eddie. I know you take pictures, but there’s gotta be something here for you to hold onto. Something besides me.
“We’ll find ‘em here. We can’t be the only fuckin’ vampires in the world, besides…” Eddie trails off, not daring to mention him, “Let’s do somethin’ tomorrow. Go out for a walk, try somethin’ from one of those cafés you keep gawkin’ at-”
“-like a date?” You ask before Eddie nods. “You takin’ your camera?”
“‘Course I am. I have to take it with me if my muse is gonna be beside me-”
“-you’re ridiculous,” You poke his shoulder as your eyelids droop, “Good night, my love.”
“‘Night, sweetheart,” He brushes a piece of hair out of your face, waiting until he thinks you’re asleep to speak again, “Can’t wait to see you in the morning.”
~
With guilt gnawing at his consciousness, Eddie tosses and turns the whole night. He can’t stop thinking of the mountain of lies he rests upon while you slumber peacefully beside him.
He’d happily hold the world’s burdens, rolling Sisyphus’ boulder up that hill again and again, if it meant that you could rest for once. This, however, was different. He can’t shield you from the truth forever. You’ll reread your journals, realize the lies that were planted in your hunger-addled mind, and then hate him forever.
Lies about your marriage, lies about Volt and how he wasn’t the one to harm you on that night — it was Eddie — and lies about what happened the night Volt was ‘killed’.
Volt isn’t dead. Well, Eddie hopes that he’s dead, if that counts for anything.
“Eddie, darling, can you let me in?” Volt’s voice echoes throughout the coffin, despite coming from the outside.
Speak of the devil himself…
“A devil?” Volt chuckles. “I thought you didn’t believe in that Christian nonsense.”
“It’s a figure of fuckin’ speech.” Eddie loudly grumbles, his eyes widening when you begin to stir. “‘Wasn’t talkin’ to you, sweet girl. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“How is she taking to this adjustment in climate?” Volt continually pesters Eddie as he rubs your back, smiling contently when you nuzzle your head into the pillow. “Is it more to her liking than New Orleans?”
“You made New Orleans hell for her,” Eddie hisses under his breath, as to not disturb you once more, “she’s startin’ to make somethin’ for herself here. She’s writin’ again, ‘n I think she might talk to a publisher or two here-”
“-this dull chatter bores me. Why don’t we talk about you, Eddie?” Volt’s fingers drum against the coffin, and Eddie shutters, even though he knows that Volt can’t possibly be here… right?
“There’s nothin’ to talk about-”
“-when does this end with you? When will you stop lying to her and yourself?” Volt’s words spill Eddie’s thoughts into the world. “She will leave you, one day-”
“-you don’t know that-”
“-let the poor bird out of her cage.” Volt cuts Eddie off. “She never had the opportunity to explore the world for herself, as she was too wrapped in the affairs of men much older than her-”
“-you never cared about that!” Eddie whisper-yells back, not caring that he’s arguing with a phantom of his imagination.
“Did you?”
Eddie leaves Volt’s question unanswered.
“Did you stutter when her age was revealed to you by Tony, then Betty, then the two of them together when they realized the feelings that were stirring in her chest, as well as yours?” Volt unearths things that Eddie doesn’t want to ponder, but is forced to in this very moment. “A girl nearly half your age, that you employed, fell head-over-heels for the first man who showed her a crumb of kindness and respect. Any person would, but it was your responsibility to turn her away from you as the older, wiser, more responsible person in that relationship-”
“-I couldn’t do that.” Eddie mutters, in horror of himself. “I wanted her anyway.”
“You did, didn’t you?” Volt taunts. “And it haunted you for days, weeks, and months on end. You tried to push her away, but the pull towards her was strong. Far too strong.”
“Are you blamin’ me or tryin’ to help?” Eddie gruffly says.
“I don’t know, mon trésor, what would you like me to do?”
“Va te faire foutre.” Eddie responds, rolling onto his side so he can hold you to his chest. “Sans toi, je ne suis rien.”
You say nothing in response, and Eddie watches your chest rise and fall before he rapidly blinks and falls asleep next to you.
No dreams or nightmares haunt him on this night — weirdly, they’ve been absent since the day you trio arrived in Paris — but he is alarmed when he awakens and you’re not right next to him.
“Mon ange?” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes before he cracks the lid of the coffin open. “Sweetheart, come back to bed. We can sleep in for a little bit.”
There’s no saccharine ‘Coming, Eddie!’ that greets his ears, so Eddie must rise from his comfortable position in search of you.
A hand on his lips reveals that you had performed your usual morning ritual of kissing Eddie until he woke up because his lungs ran out of air.
It’s not like it bothered him — Merde, waking up to you smiling down on him after you repeatedly kissed him was like a fucking dream — but he’s a little upset that your morning affection didn’t rouse him from his sleep.
Usually, you’re the one with small indents on your lips, left by Eddie after he wanted to gain access to your mouth, but an index finger running along his bottom lip reveals that you were in a bit of a bitey mood this morning.
“She takes such good care of you, doesn’t she?” Volt’s presence in the room causes Eddie to startle, and he mumbles a string of curses as to not wake Harper.
The last thing he needs at the moment is her grilling him about losing track of you.
“When Canary figures out what you’ve done, she’s gonna hate you for this.”
Eddie flexes his fingers, trying to get the thought of Volt’s body and his hand around her neck out of his head.
“You didn’t enjoy the power that you felt in the moment, as the man of the house-”
“-no! I didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to hurt her but I… I couldn’t let her burn you.” Eddie scrunches his lips off to one side as he takes a deep breath in, then out.
“What if it had been Canary that night? What if the girl had been in her right mind?” Volt inquires.
“If you think, for a goddamn second, that I’d try to choke my fuckin’ wife out-”
“-you tried to set her on fire.” Volt shrugs. “I’d argue that was more harmful than a hand around the neck.”
“I swore I’d gain control over myself, ‘n I did. ‘Haven’t done anythin’ like that since we wrapped you in that carpet.”
“And it wasn’t even Persian…” Volt muses, looking at his fingernails in disinterest. “Have you tried the balcony? Canary likes to get some fresh air before she starts her day.”
“She… does?” Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion.
Surely, he’d notice something like that after knowing you for over twenty-five years, right?
“-oh, yes, she loves to stare at the moon as she plays with the skirt of her dress. Quite a beautiful sight, I must say,” Volt chuckles, “The fine details of a woman you cannot have haunt you the most. …Though, I suppose you’ve never had that problem since you give yourself freely to her, or you lie so you can have her freely-”
“-shut up.” Eddie throws the doors to the balcony open, after quickly checking that the sky was dark outside, and he’s disappointed when the only sign of you is a brief whiff of your perfume that Eddie catches on the gentle nighttime breeze that sweeps his hair back.
“Could she have flown off?”
“This isn’t fuckin’ funny.” Eddie grits his teeth, returning to the interior of the apartment after he briefly studies the pretty assortment of flowers that you placed in the railing planter that ran across the balcony’s railing. “Canary, sweetheart, you in here?”
Your lack of a response concerns him, especially when he spots your nightgown, draped across one of the chairs in the apartment.
Wasn’t that where my…
“Fuck, why didn’t I check there first?” Eddie lightly scolds himself, brushing past a confused Volt as he walks through the cramped hallway so he can access his darkroom.
Eddie hurriedly opens then shuts the door, so as to not ruin the photos that are still developing on the paper, and a warm smile spreads across his face when he sees you curled up in the corner of the room.
He loves you, he truly does, but he had to bring a small loveseat and an assortment of blankets and throw pillows into the room so you had some place to sit while he messed with the film from his camera. You wanted to cling to his side, and Eddie would’ve loved nothing more, but he wanted these photos of you to turn out right. So, he had to place his greatest temptation out of arm’s reach, but close enough where he could have you if the need arose.
And, based on how often those very pillows and blankets were messed up, that need was very, very often.
Could you blame him? How could he resist you in a state like this, when you’re wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing more, with your legs slightly parted so he can stare at your thighs in all of their glory?
“Eddie.” You mumble, softly moving your head to the left, then to the right. “Eddie, my love…”
“Mon ange,” He murmurs his favorite sweet nickname for you as he slowly approaches, making sure that his feet don’t hit a single creaky floorboard, “you sleepin’?”
“Canary, ‘m here.” When Eddie’s close enough, he takes one of your hands in his. “You doin’ alright?”
“Oh, mon cœur,” A moan from your lips causes Eddie to blush heavily, “don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Now you’re really tempting him into taking you up on that offer.
“I know you’re starin’ at me,” You narrowed your sleepy eyes at Eddie, “are you hungry for me?”
You lifted a leg up, exposing your unclothed sex to him as you softly yawned.
“Pretty girl, you’re tired. I don’t wanna-”
“-you can have me whenever you want me, Eddie.” You gazed at him with admiration in your eyes. “I know you’ll be gentle. It’d be cruel of me to deny you of somethin’ that you really want, just ‘cause ‘m asleep.”
“I don’t want it to be like that, though.” Eddie tried to hide his warm cheeks behind his hand, but you pulled it away from his face with your hand.
“Maybe I wanna wake up with your head between my thighs,” You grinned at Eddie, “you ever think of that?”
After coming to a sleepy agreement that involved you promising Eddie that you’d ride him, even if he was tired so you could rock yourself back to sleep or get yourself off, you both fell asleep and hadn’t broached the subject since.
Not until Eddie sees you in his shirt, with his name falling from your lips as your mind and body are possessed by him. He needs your slick to run all over his tongue, to feel you shiver and shake and whine and come undone for him and only him.
Most of all, Eddie feels the need to confess for his sins, and what better place to do so than the altar to his beloved goddess?
“Sweetheart,” Eddie softly murmurs before he presses a kiss to your forehead, and he smiles ever-so-slightly when your hand squeezes his, “my sweetheart. I love you so fuckin’ much. ‘Can’t possibly resist you when you look like this. ‘M gonna do all of the hard work so you can relax, okay?”
Eddie’s grateful that he doesn’t receive an answer from you, and he kisses your lips to make sure that you’re asleep before his free hand works to undo the buttons on your shirt.
“‘M sorry for everythin’ I’ve done, Canary,” Eddie places kiss after kiss down your stomach, where the buttons once hid your skin from his hungry gaze, “‘n ‘m sorry for lyin’ to you. I wish I didn’t have to, but I don’t wanna break your heart. ‘Don’t wanna be the one who breaks your heart.”
“Eddie,” Your other hand tangles in his hair as you continue to talk in your sleep, “the baby…”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you,” He nuzzles his head into your stomach, to show love for the child he’ll never meet as well as the woman he adores in fervent worship, “You’re so sweet, mon ange. You put everyone’s happiness above your own, ‘n, as much as it bothers me when you don’t take care of yourself, that’s what makes you… you.”
“I love you.” Your body heats up at the confession that you whisper to him. “‘M sorry that I’ve hurt your heart. …‘Didn’t wanna hurt myself. I was just mad at you, ‘n I didn’t know how to express myself.”
“I know, Canary,” Eddie briefly peppers your hand with kisses before he continues his loving assault on your stomach, moving closer to the one thing besides blood that he’s ravenous for, “I don’t wanna fight like that anymore. Not with you. It’s gonna be you ‘n I ‘til the end of time, ‘n I’ll do whatever it takes to get us through.”
He doesn’t bother removing your underwear as he continues to cover your body in his kisses, paying close attention to your clothed cunt that is concealed by soaked underwear.
“Did you wake up thinkin’ about me?” He teases as he tugs at the band of your underwear. “Did you try to cool off by standin’ on the balcony? …Didn’t work, sweet girl, did it?”
You whine when Eddie places two fingers on your sex, applying a bit of pressure that makes you melt into his touch.
“You put somethin’ of mine on so you could finger yourself in it, foolin’ yourself into believin’ that it was my hand,” He chuckles as his hand carefully pushes your thighs apart, giving him room to sit on his knees as your legs are draped over the loveseat, “you know you can wake me up if you’re feelin’ like that, right? You don’t have to wander off when that happens. ‘Would’ve happily given you what you wanted.”
Eddie’s fingernails scrape against your inner thighs as he pulls your underwear down your legs, and he watches with careful eyes as you arch your back.
“My pretty, sensitive girl who can’t help but react every time I touch her,” To prove his point, Eddie bites down on the flesh of your thigh, causing you to moan, “Merde, you’re so good for me, Canary. You know that you drive me crazy, ‘n you use it to pull me along, like ‘m a fuckin’ dog.”
An obedient dog, but a dog nonetheless.
“‘Don’t wanna wake you, sweetheart,” His thumb runs against the indent that he just made with his teeth, “I’ll be gentle, but ‘m gonna have my fill of you. All you have to do is relax. Can you do that for me?”
“S’il te plaît, s’il te plaît, je serai une bonne fille.” You beg of Eddie, who shakes his head as admiration shines in his irises.
“You don’t have to be good,” He murmurs as he eyes the slick that coats your upper inner thighs, “You just have to be mine.”
“Yours?” You softly repeat, and Eddie’s briefly stunned, worried that you’re simply pretending to be asleep until you speak again. “Yes, my love, make me yours.”
“Is that what ‘m doin’ to you? Am I makin’ you feel loved ‘n respected as I hold you?” For the smallest of moments, Eddie’s jealous of a dream version of himself as he eagerly throws your legs over his shoulders. “When you wake up, ‘m gonna make you tell me what you're dreamin’ about. Not so I can tease you or make fun of you. ‘Just wanna make your dreams a reality, Canary. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
You mumble something incoherent under your breath, and Eddie takes that as a sign to begin devouring you.
After all of this time, and after all of these years, he’s still not tired of your taste. How could he be, when you are the most divine thing he’s ever partaken in? Forget bread and wine split at the altar of God for communion — eating you out is his communion. His oath to be your companion, forever and ever and ever, until death do you part.
Even then, he’ll find you in the afterlife. No ethereal realm of an all-powerful being will keep Eddison Watts from you. You won’t be separated from him. Not if Eddie has any say over it.
Soft moans, falling from your lips over and over again, pull his attention towards you once more. His tongue repeats similar motions in a pattern that he’s traced inside of your cunt hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Eddie knows what you like, and what’ll coat his face in your delicious release the fastest. He’s mapped your body in his brain, so he’ll never forget how to pleasure the object of his utmost affection.
He swears he hasn’t been at this very long — he’s not even out of breath when you come, legs shaking as your chest rises and falls at irregular intervals — so he continues to lap at your folds, ignoring your tiny whines of protest.
“Eddie, honey…” You purr, rolling your hips forward so your sex grinds against his nose, “I already came.”
“Gonna make you come again ‘n again ‘n again, ‘til ‘m full,” He groans as he licks his lips, breaking away from you for that boring air he must ingest to keep himself alive, “it’ll be a while, though. ‘M fuckin’ starvin’.”
“Take as much as you want,” You whisper, head lolling back as you let your neck rest on a pillow that he arranged for you, “‘m gonna fall asleep.”
“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl,” Eddie praises, “you know what you deserve. You know you deserve to be spoiled ‘n loved, don’t you? My angel won’t have to lift a finger unless she wants to.”
Dulcet, barely audible humming is all he gets for an answer as your fingers comb through his hair, encouraging him to dive deeper and further into you.
“Love you, Canary,” He murmurs his affection straight into your cunt, as if it’ll travel up your bloodstream and settle in your heart so you’ll always feel his love and affection for you, “always. You’re the only person I’d do this for. ‘Wouldn’t have thought of leavin’ New Orleans if it wasn’t for you. I’d follow you anywhere, sweetheart.”
“Ah,” A soft gasp leaves you as you begin to stir, “fuck. ‘Feels good…”
“Mon bel ange, go back to sleep,” Eddie encourages as your chest heaves, signaling that his tongue is close to bringing you another climax, “I’ll wake you when ‘m done.”
“‘M hungry,” You mumble, slowly blinking until your soft, welcoming, beautiful orange eyes are revealed to him, “Eddie? …Where am- Merde!”
You scream — an angel crying to the heavens — before you collapse onto the loveseat, completely spent after just regaining consciousness.
“Did I wake you?” Eddie cleans up his mess — starting with your sex, then your legs, and then, finally, his face. “‘M sorry, Canary. I missed you.”
“You sleep next to me every night, mon chou,” You tease, opening your arms so Eddie can settle in your embrace, “I see you kept yourself busy. Didn’t your mother tell you not to disrobe a lady while she was sleepin’?”
“My wife was wearin’ my clothes. ‘Needed to do somethin’ before I lost my mind,” He licks his lips as his fingers trace small circles on your stomach, “how are you feelin’?”
“Hungry ‘n sore,” You giggle to yourself, “so the same as usual.”
“Sore?” Eddie questions. “Where?”
“I, uh…” Your face flushes. “It’s a little embarrassin’.”
His hands crawl up your chest, knowing exactly where you need him to be.
“It’s alright, Canary. Your body doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable,” Eddie smiles when you sigh in relief after he slowly kneads your breasts, “better?”
“Much,” Your fingers dance along his shoulders to their own unique rhythm, “thank you. …I swear, it’s somethin’ new every day. Is it too damn much to ask to be a normal vampire for one day?”
“You are a normal vampire.” Eddie argues, brows furrowing when you shake your head.
“I was talkin’ about havin’ a normal appetite, ‘n feelin’ full after one human. To feel strong ‘n not sickly, y’know?” You frown. “I wanna be like you ‘n Harper. Not forever, but just once.”
God, if Eddie could grant you his wish, he would. He wonders how different your life would be if you weren’t eternally with child. Would you be happier, living without the burden of her, or would you be more mournful of the children you never got to have?
“‘M thinkin’ out loud, my love, don’t take me seriously,” You warn as you press a kiss to his forehead after you brush some of his hair from the area, “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have our baby. She keeps me mortal.”
“You keep me mortal.”
“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” You joke, laughing at your own comment, “C’mon, we should get dressed before-”
“-hey,” Harper’s fist pound against the door, causing Eddie to quickly button your — his — shirt, “there’s this café down the street I wanna check out. Get dressed. We’re leavin’ in thirty.”
~
In New Orleans, such an outing with you, Eddie, and Harper would cause people to gossip and stare. People knew of the hideaways that lived in Volt’s townhouse, but not of their lives and the misfortune that such a living arrangement caused.
In Paris, as the three of you sit on a table outside of a corner café, no one blinks as they pass you by. A man at the table behind Harper reads the news, shaking his head as he thinks of where his next meal will come from. On the other side of your table is a young couple, one that reminds you of an innocent love towards Eddie that feels centuries old by now, and they sweetly discuss what to order as they both think of their adoration for each other.
Eddie fiddles with the camera in his hands, paying no mind to Harper, who tilts her head in interest.
What are you lookin’ for when you take a picture?
Eddie shrugs.
I don’t know. A surprise, maybe?
You place your elbows on the table, before allowing your fingers to form a bridge that lets your head rest for a moment. A small piece of hair falls in your face, and you pucker your lips in order to blow it out of your way.
Somethin’ off. Like a hat that’s too small for a head. Or someone realizin’ they forgot to do somethin’ and they stop.
Your nose scrunches when that unruly piece of hair clouds your vision once more.
Maybe you wonder about what got ‘em here. How’d they end up in Paris, of all places? Crossin’ paths with three unfortunate vampires-
“-sometimes I want the short answer, Eddie.” A bit of snark enters Harper’s voice as Eddie sets the camera down in favor of lighting a cigarette. “You listen to their thoughts. You know what’s comin’.”
Harper smiles at you, failing to distract you as she steals the wallet from the man behind her.
I saw that.
You didn’t see shit.
You and Harper giggle to yourselves, blocking out Eddie like it was natural as he addresses Harper.
“Well, if you knew the answer, why did you ask?” He blows smoke away from you, never wanting to constrict your breathing with the fumes from the cigarette.
“Is the comin’ together random, or is it choreographed?” She shoots back, and the pair shares a tense gaze that you can’t quite decipher.
Will these two devolve into another argument, where they scream at each other like they did in Romania, or will they continue to throw slights until one falls into silence, unable to answer the other’s call?
You two, please-
“-Maybe I wanna think ‘m deeper than I am.” He jokes as he lovingly glances at you. “Someone’s gotta keep your mother entertained.”
“Is that how you sell yourself?” Harper quirks an eyebrow up as Eddie sighs.
“‘M just tryin’ to get through the nights. Find somethin’ of my own to pursue,” He dangles the cigarette between two of his fingers, picking up his camera to take a sneaky photo of you, “Fine. You caught me. I shortcut it. Take the win.”
C’mon. Give it up for one night. If not for each other, then for me.
The shutter on the camera clicks, and your eyes widen when you realize that the lens is pointed your way.
“Eddison-!”
“-Canary.” He says your name with an affection that almost wipes you of your growing annoyance with him and Harper. “Sweetheart-”
“-enough.” You say with a finality that has both of your companions on edge. “‘M done with this. Whatever game you’re playin’, it ends tonight, you understand me?”
“It’s him, Mama, he-”
“-I know, baby,” Your hand falls to Harper’s forearm so you can squeeze it in support, “think what you’d like of him. ‘M not sayin’ you two have to be father ‘n daughter again. But, for my sanity, I need you two to, at least, be civil with one another.”
“We haven’t fought since-”
“-Romania,” You jump in to cut Eddie off, “but I’ve noticed the way you two talk to each other. You get awfully close to that sort of argument, don’t you? If it’s not arguin’, it’s petty slights that you think ‘m too stupid to notice. Or, even better yet, you two fight for my attention, ‘n then you silently pout when you don’t get it.”
“I don’t…” Harper trails off, realizing that she’s caught. “Shit.”
“Say what you want to each other when ‘m not in the room.” You close your eyes as a breath of relief escapes you, since those suffocating words finally exited your chest. “But, for fuck’s sake, can we try to act like a family for one goddamn night?”
A beat of silence wraps around your little family as your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to snap at them, but sometimes they leave you no choice.
“Alright,” Harper adjusts her red-checkered jacket before she turns to you, “we’ll make this a family interrogation, then-”
“-I didn’t say that-”
“-who are you, Canary?” A simple, poignant question from your daughter sends you reeling.
Who are you?
What are you, if not a lump sum of all of the horrible shit that’s happened to you? A poorly-stitched together doll who’s trying to find crumbs of joy in the endless shithole that is her immortal life?
Sure, you’re happy now, but you know how this cycle ends — with heartbreak and disaster. Something will throw you overboard once more, and you’ll be drowning in those horrible feelings once more. You’re doomed to repeat terrible patterns that were defined by your parents long before you came into existence.
…Perhaps you’re more than that. You could be a fighter, a survivor, a persistent bother that will never be silenced or completely shut down. You lived through every dark night of your life. What’s stopping you from doing that again and again?
Then, there’s the endless titles you carry upon your shoulders. Wife, lover, mon ange, mon chérie, mother-
Mother. That’s the one.
“‘M your mother.” You smile at Harper, who seems dissatisfied with your answer.
“Who are you outside of me?” She pelts you with one question, then another. “If there was no me, no Eddie, no… him, who would you be? What do you want?”
Harper snatches the camera from Eddie’s grasp before he has a chance to react, pointing the lens at you as you ponder her endless stream of queries.
What do I want? …A chance to live like a mortal woman. Go to college, get a degree, explore the world through my eyes and no one else’s… Get a taste of what it feels like to have the wind blow through your hair while you’re sitting in the back of the car, only worrying about smashing your head when you fall out because it might kill you, and death’s the only thing you’re scared of.
“And, most importantly, how are you gonna get there, Mama?”
Publish my book. Figure out a way to have my voice heard. Not just one novel, and not just one about my pain. We’ve lived many lifetimes in twenty-five years. I’d like to explore them all in written word.
She snaps a photo of you next as you’re deep in thought.
“I don’t know,” You slip your hand into Eddie’s before you grin at both of them, “but I think it’s in Paris, with the two of you.”
~
“She had a point,” Dolly chuckles as she reads two familiar words from Harper’s diary, “‘Paris sucked.’”
“I believe you’re projecting, Mrs. Molloy-”
“-Harper was miserable, but she didn’t want to fuck with Canary’s fantasies and Eddie’s delusions.” Dolly adjusts her glances, not daring to look at the ancient vampire she continues to interrupt and override. “I mean, c’mon, Eddie. She was obviously pretendin’ to be happy to keep Canary happy. That’s what you both wanted, right?”
“Harper wanted to give us permission to explore a life apart from her-”
“-but not apart from each other, apparently,” Dolly murmurs under her breath as Amir appears to peer into her soul, trying to find a weak spot that isn’t there, “did you even give the girl a chance to breath on her own in-”
“-it’s Alec, Eddie, not Harper.” Amir barges in, and she freezes in her tracks at the mention of his first name.
“Excuse me?”
“Ah,” Eddie briefly smiles, squeezing Amir’s shoulder as the pair stay close to one another, “you’ve thinking about your time in Paris.”
“No, it’s Harper. It’s her journal,” Dolly argues as she really doesn’t want to discuss that topic right now, “See? Here, she wrote, ‘Canary needs Paris. I don’t…’”
“Nineteen eighty-five,” Eddie calmly says, “you and Alec were at a brassiere, talking past each other, and you let it slip that you were pregnant.”
“The fishing rod in the head again?” She rolls her eyes. “That’s low-hangin’ fruit, even for you.”
“And he says, ‘Yeah, let’s talk about it later tonight.’”
“I’ve got to knock out a chapter. One a week,” Dolly fills in the memory for Eddie, reluctantly going along with his pestering, “We leave before the bill is paid, I never finish the novel. I think it was the yeah that pissed me off the most. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Eddie agrees before Dolly resumes her verbal reading of Harper’s novel.
“‘Canary needs Paris. I don’t know what I need…”
~
Canary needs Paris. I don’t know what I need. Maybe a new brain in my head.
Why can’t I tell her this? …I suppose ‘m afraid my joylessness will take away her happiness, ‘n maybe I don’t want her feelings to depend on mine anymore. Maybe I want to be joyfully joyless. A forever switch of wild opposites at play.
I departed from Mama ‘n Eddie soon after I took that picture of her. She always smiled when he or I were behind the camera, but no one else could pull that emotion from her. Were we really the true sources of her happiness, or did she not wish to have her joy be contained in the rolls of film that Eddie messed with every night?
My head is filled with these thoughts — conflictin’ thoughts that confuse and confound me — but I remember that Mama had a lot of these thoughts when she was in her thirties, too. She was confused about the world around her, why her life was so unfair, ‘n how badly she wanted to be a mortal again, with a baby in her arms.
Did I want the same? …Perhaps, perhaps not. An older body would be nice, but I’ve grown too accustomed to bein’ a vampire to give it up. So, here I am, at a standstill. Not quite a girl, not yet a woman.
Readin’ my own words over… God, I sound ancient. Maybe a walk will be good for my mind ‘n my body. Canary ‘n Eddie will be fine. They have each other. They’ll always have each other. Even if hell ‘n heaven collided into Earth, they’d find a way to survive it ‘n come back to each other.
I was lucky to have my umbrella, as the sky projected my feelings down onto the Parisian streets. Walkin’ in heels while it rained wasn’t my favorite activity, but I liked the contemplative silence that the weather gave me. No one’s askin’ where my parents are. They’re just tryin’ to get out of the downpour before it gets any worse.
I stumbled upon a street that I haven’t been down before, ‘n I decided to let my feet carry me down the cobbled road. Most of the shops that ran along the side were dark, ‘n there was little to illuminate my path besides flickerin’ streetlights that’ll go out at any moment.
Nothin’ caught my attention ‘til I saw a button-down pink dress in the front window of a tailor’s shop. Since the mannequin was lookin’ down on me, I knew I’d need to have the hems brought up so I wouldn’t ruin the white-laced trim that traced a small circle around the bottom of the dress.
Pitter-patter, the rain went, as I stepped forward once more. This time, I was given a view into the store. Lavish was scrawled in fancy writin’ across the glass door, but that wasn’t the thing that caught my eye.
It was the woman, hidden in the back corner of the store. Her hair was red, like mine. Her clothes were plain, like mine. There was somethin’ about her, the way she fed the cloth into her sewin’ machine…
The streetlights went out, ‘n a man who was caught in the rain threw out every French curse word he knew as he ran away. I could hear his complaints from his mouth and his thoughts, but I didn’t care for ‘em.
The intriguin’ woman in front of me calmly lit a match, lightin’ her way forward as she continued to work on her masterpiece. She didn’t care for the blackout, or for the man who warned me to stay away from her as he raised his arm up into the air, starin’ into her shop.
“You stay away from her,” He said in French, “She’s nothing but trouble.”
My eyes drifted to the display in the other window, where a mannequin wore a dress in Canary’s favorite color. I didn’t have to stare very long — she looked to be about her size, ‘n that dressmaker in the back would only have to let out the stomach a little bit for my mama’s…
Goin’ against the words of a man, as I often did, I closed my umbrella and let myself into her shop. I peeked behind the curtain that was dividin’ the mannequin from the rest of her shop, so I could have a closer look at that pretty pink dress.
The woman quickly rushed up to me, mutterin’ angrily in French that she was closed. I reassured her that I wouldn’t be long, but she then batted my hand away, tellin’ me that the dress was made of silk ‘n that a drop of water would ruin it.
I tried to apologize, but then she started talkin’ about me playin’ dress-up in here. Unbelievable! Nearly halfway to forty, ‘n this woman’s askin’ me to leave ‘cause she thinks I wanna play with dolls in her store.
Fine. I’d pivot. I asked her about the other dress, the one for my mother, ‘n if she could let it out.
She chuckled as she played with one of the braids in her hair.
“American?” The dressmaker didn’t let me answer. “Your French is ugly.”
“You can let it out for me, yes?” I then pointed to the other dress. “Need some work done on the silk one, too. You do alterations?”
“Don’t pretend to be something you’re not,” She calmly reassured me as she gathered some spare blue fabric in her arms from a nearby counter, “Believe me, it’ll happen soon enough.”
I frowned, lightly kickin’ the flooring with my foot.
“Never thought about choosin’ to pretend,” I told the red-headed lady that piqued my curiosity, “Life hasn’t been kind enough to allow me that.”
Her head snapped towards me, ‘n now she was curious about a little girl who sounds far too old for her body.
That’s what I am, ain’t I?
“Maybe if it had been,” I shrugged, “I’d be a lonely dressmaker in an empty shop, denyin’ my only potential customer.”
“Respect my time,” The dressmaker gestured to the darkness of the outside world, which was suddenly less dark since the moment she stuck her arm into the air, the lights jumped back on, “No-”
Despite it all, despite my pesterin’, the red-headed dressmaker smiled as she shook her head ‘n waved me further into her shop.
“-the two dresses, for me ‘n my mother,” I slammed a handful of French currency, plus a golden bracelet that I stole off of a lady that I drained, on the counter, “‘n we’ll need some gloves. ‘M thinkin’ white.”
[read part two here!]
WIP Wednesday~!
thank you @blackbirdofasgard for tagging me!
cws: vampire stuff & fem! reader in first snippet, ghostface au! and stalking in second snippet, medical stuff in third snippet, and they're all screenshots of first drafts so if you see bad grammar... no u don't? LMAO
IWTV CH. 11:
GHOSTFACE ONE-SHOT:
SUPER SECRET THIRD THING NOT FOR DATE EVERYTHING:
don't stop when you hear me callin'
a/n: I SWEAR I had this done on March 13th for Friday the 13th but then my fucking INTERNET WENT OUT ;-; truly I am having a TIME rn so let's all pretend it's Friday the 13th for my sanity <33 also this fic is a part two (of sorts) to tag, you're it!
relationship: ghostface! eddie x ghostface! volt x ghostface! afab! gn! reader
series masterlist || ao3 series
cws: this is SMUT - you have been warned! one-shot that's a part of my ghostface! au, soft dom! Eddie, switch/service top! Volt, switch! reader, blood, murder, gore, canon-typical violence, reader suffers from intrusive thoughts, alcohol, mentions of stalking, toxic relationship behaviors, vaginal fingering, crude sexual humor, biting/marking/hickeys, possessive sex, edging, semi-public sex, dry humping/grinding, sexual fantasies, cumming-in-pants, jealous sex, car sex, p-in-v sex (wrap it before you tap it!), eating come out of a vagina, oral sex (afab! receiving), other freaky shit I can’t hope to describe
summary: your boyfriends won't let you have your way with your kills or your sex life. you think it's about time that they realize how frustrating that is, and how better than a bit of teasing and one-on-one time? - 9.3k words! [read on ao3!]
Your boyfriends are fucking cheaters.
They cheated when they chased you through the forest and used a tracker to find your exact location. They manipulated you, using your love for them as a way to bribe you into doing what they wanted. The most unforgivable offense, however, was cheating you of your kills. They claimed bullshit like “He's already dead, darling, no need to drag it on further” and “C'mon, spark, there's plenty of other people for you to hurt. You don't have to be so focused on that one.”
You're still pissed about that first one. If they’d played fair, you would've outrun them with no issues! Then, you would've been able to have your way with your boys.
Because of this sudden realization, you're in a sour mood. Not even the plunging of a bloody knife through someone's chest repeatedly, splattering blood all over your Ghostface ensemble, is able to cheer you up.
You're not even tempted to do any overkill. Man, you're really off your game!
“My sweet spark, would you like to-”
“-I'll meet you in the car.” You brush past Volt, making sure to clear the woman's face as you step on the grass.
You hear him hum in disapproval, and your mind stirs with anger towards your boys as you pull your mask from your face.
Why do this? Do they still see you as a pupil and not their equal? You're faster, more efficient, and brutal in ways they can't even imagine until it's on full display in front of them.
You're passenger royalty, but you choose to take a seat in the back of Eddie's car after you toss your blood attire, along with your favorite knife, into the trunk.
What is it about you that makes them want to bend the rules and not obey your will? Is it their defiant nature, or is it something deep and innate in-
“Out.” Eddie opens the left-side car door, moving away so he doesn’t block your exit.
“I’m fine back here-”
“Get out before Volt drags your ass to the front seat.” He huffs, a teasing smile on his face as a memory of a past version of you refusing to sit in your rightful seat flickers in front of his eyes. “Come on out, spark. I’ve got something for you if you’ll listen to me.”
What are you, a child who needs to be goaded into doing what’s asked of them?
“I’m not in the mood.” You grumble, making an effort to huff loudly before you climb out of the vehicle.
Yes. Yes, you are.
“...I got that.” He shuts the car door as soon as you’re out, and, like any gentleman, he walks you to the other side before he opens that door for you. “What’s on your mind?”
“‘Don’t wanna talk about it,” You murmur as you reach into the glove box, and you’re pleasantly surprised when your fingers wrap around the neck of a bottle, “you didn’t-”
“-I always keep a bottle of your favorite liquor stashed away,” A blush races across Eddie’s face as he leans against the door of the car, “for emergencies.”
“Oh, Eddie, you’re the best!” Your anger slips away for a moment as you unscrew the cap from the bottle. “It’s been a long time since we did something like this.”
“Do you even remember when that was?” He chuckles as you take a small sip, relaxing when the alcohol hits your tongue. “You got wasted-”
“-we were about to graduate, and I wanted to live a little,” You frown as the memory resurfaces in your mind, “it's one of the few good memories I have from that part of my life.”
You threw yourself at Eddie and Volt, trying to stick your tongue down their throats as they did their best to be respectful towards you. …hey, they’re serial killers and stalkers, not monsters!
“You like it?” Eddie pivots once he notices the ashen look on your face.
“Yeah, it’s nice.” You admire the label on the bottle before you take another shot. “I don’t like to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but it helps take the edge off, y’know?”
“An edge that we caused.” Edde correctly guesses as you hold the liquor bottle close, cradling it to your chest. “Live wire, whatever it is, we’ll fix it. ‘Doesn’t matter how long it’ll take, or how hard it might be-”
“-it’s not a one-time thing.” Your lips twist off to the side as your fingernails clank against the glass. “A pattern of behavior, really. …Something I just realized.”
“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, and you’re not given a chance to answer as Volt rushes up to the two of you.
“Dearests, I hope I’m not interrupting,” He exchanges a nervous glance with Eddie, who shrugs before he heads towards the driver’s seat, “how are you feeling?”
“I… I think we need to talk about something. All three of us.” You chew on your bottom lip as Volt leans down and pecks your cheek.
“Nothing terrible, I assume?”
“No, it’s just… frustration.” You pinch some skin on your forearm. “I should’ve said something sooner, but I didn’t know how I felt until a little bit ago. …It’s weird that I only think straight when I’m stabbing someone else.”
Whoops! You’re letting things spill. I wonder how long it’ll take for you to confess your big secret! …No, not the one about you thinking about killing people. The other one. A hunger that cannot be quenched with the simple act of slicing through flesh and bone.
You slap your hand over your mouth, not meaning to let that one loose, before Volt places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
“Whatever you need, my light, consider it done. We’re here for you.”
How does one tell their boyfriends that the problem is them? You’re mad because they cheat you of your well-earned opportunities to maim and kill. Do they do so because they think you’re incapable of handling yourself, or because they want to rig the game in their favor so they always get what they want from you, instead of the other way around?
You won that game of chase on a technicality, since they were dirty cheaters, and you’re tired of not having your way with Volt and Eddie.
You have plenty of fun ideas on how to make them bend to your will in the most pleasurable of ways.
After a quick pit-stop to discard a few dismembered limbs, as well as any major pieces of evidence from the crime scene, you arrive home with two doting yet extremely worried boyfriends.
Their minds are spiraling with thoughts of you abandoning them for another, but that would never happen, right? …Right, spark?
They'll kill whoever is pulling your heart away from them. You won't even know it was on purpose. They're very good at making purposeful actions look like accidents.
Your brooding isn't as strong as you'd like it to be, since your heart is still oh-so-partial to your boys, but you can still make a conscious effort to slip out of their arms any time they try to hold you. Depriving Eddie and Volt of the thing they crave most — your attention and approval — seems like the most effective way of getting your point across.
The first name that spills from your lips is gonna have a fucking shitstorm headed their way, for causing you to be so callous and cold towards your lovers. You're not like this. This isn't you — someone must be pulling the strings behind-the-scenes to make you act in such a way!
You hit their breaking point when you tilt your head away from Volt, so his lips press against your cheek instead of your mouth, and then you dare to move away from them, claiming that you're exhausted and that you need some rest.
An arm extends across the doorway, blocking your access into the living room and hallway that leads into your bedroom, and your eyes trace along the clothed muscles to find Volt’s eyes ripping you to shreds as he analyzes your every twitch and movement.
“My sweet spark, I do believe that you had something to speak with us about, no?”
“It’s better left for the morning…” You trail off when Eddie’s hands fall down your sides, which makes you realize that you are trapped between the two men that you adore.
A bit of fear begins to race around your system — Is this how your victims feel before you slice them open? — as you realize that you’re not getting out of this without addressing the elephant in the room.
“Spit it out, live wire.” Eddie pulls you to his chest, and his eyes bore holes into your skin as you briefly lock eyes with him.
“I don’t wanna-”
“-Spit. It. Out.” He grumbles in a low tone, “or I’ll find a way to get it out of you.”
Oh, now that doesn’t sound too bad, does it?
You shiver at the thought of what that might entail, but their matching burning gazes force the words out of your mouth.
“I’m upset with you and Volt.”
“No shit-”
“-you lie and you cheat and you manipulate me.” You cross your arms over your chest. “You control every aspect of my life and it’s suffocating. Everything always goes your way, and I don’t ever get what I want unless you want that too.”
Ah, yes, the one that stomps their feet and spits out vile words when they’re upset at the smallest of inconveniences is calling out their toxic behavior… good for you, little wire!
You think you went too far, especially when you see that your boyfriends look more and more like wounded puppies with every passing moment, so you try to excuse yourself once more as guilt creeps into your mind.
Now look at what you’ve done! You won’t have anyone to help enact your delicious plots of revenge with!
“Darling, wait,” Volt grabs your hand before you have a chance to flee from him and Eddie for the night, “do you think we impose our will onto you? Do you honestly believe that you have no say in our affairs or your relationship with us?”
Deep down, you suppose that’s the answer for your strong feelings, so you nod in agreement.
You won that game of chase if they played fair, goddamnit!
“Speak your mind to us, live wire. You are our whole reason for existing. Nothing in our lives would be complete without you in it,” Volt places a hand on the back of your head, and you feel tears prick at your eyes as he draws you closer with a single, fluid motion, “We do not intend to be overbearing when it comes to you. After everything that’s happened to you, we’re a bit… overprotective of what’s ours. I’m sure you can sympathize.”
You’re just as protective and possessive of them, aren’t you?
“Something happened recently,” Eddie assumes, “something that bothered you-”
“-you cheated when you were chasing me down, that night we killed that guy in the forest-”
“-I fucking knew it-” Eddie cuts you off, before he’s silenced by his other partner.
“-not the time, Eddison.” Volt chides him. “I do believe, however, that there was no rule stated about us using your phone to track you down.”
“I never said you could use your phone.” You argue back, crinkling your nose into Volt’s chest when he has the audacity to laugh at you. “I could’ve made it out of that forest, if you two played fair.”
“Spark, how the hell were you going to get yourself out of that tree?” Eddie asks, lightly smirking when he’s got your logic cornered.
“I… would’ve figured it out.”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Eddie chuckles as he places a hand on the small of your back. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“No. You got to have me as you wanted me.” You whine when Eddie runs his thumb up your spine, causing you to pout as you gaze at Volt. “I won on a technicality-”
“-you want to have your way with us, don't you?” Volt’s lips curl into a smile when you bashfully look away from him and Eddie. “Darling, we are yours for the taking. You can have us any way you want us.”
“Really?” You softly ask before Eddie hums.
“Really, spark,” His hand then goes to your jaw, to tilt your head towards him so his lips can brush against your mouth, “you got something in mind for tonight?”
Tonight? Perhaps not, since they’re expecting some sort of counterattack. You want them when they are least expecting it, so you can feast upon their vulnerabilities and make them beg for the god that they claim to worship with such acts of frivolous brutality.
“Later,” You push the words out as you savor the act of three bodies melting into one, “but I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this for a while.”
~
Your plot stays close to your chest, and those schemes of yours are locked inside of your dangerous mind until you’re invited out to yet another college party by Beverly and Kopi, your next-door neighbors.
Hopefully this one ends with more than one body dropping to the ground!
Ah, yes, a gathering like this always reminds you of your first kill, the first taste of blood that got you hooked on the act of murdering others. Perhaps you’d get the chance to re-do such a feat, so you could improve upon your previous actions.
You’d be less of a fucking wimp this time. You’d have no concerns about what Eddie and Volt think of you, since they have the same violent urges that compel you to act. You could have a party of your own, with your only guests being a mountain of corpses! People would be dying to get in there!
…No laughs for that one? Really? I thought that was a good joke!
You arrive with Eddie and Volt on your arms — or you on theirs? Does the direction of the possession really matter if you’re equally possessive over each other? — and you think you’re going to have a few drinks with your lovers before you sneak off to do something more… fun.
By fun you mean killing people, right?
However, life has other plans, and Zoey — wow, isn’t this deja vu from that night? — is quick to drag you away from your boyfriends, leaving them to their own devices as you disappear into the small crowd.
Zoey’s great company, chatting your ear off as she refills your glass with your drink of choice, and she’s clearly intoxicated as she slurs her words and stumbles in her heels. You grab her by the waist, to steady the poor girl before she takes an unfortunate tumble, and she thanks you by inviting you to play some sort of game with an empty beer bottle and a small group of faces that you both do and don’t recognize.
You accept, thinking only innocent thoughts as the two of you sit next to each other on a floor that you pray is cleaner than the ground outside. You wave at Chance, who’s smushed between his bickering friends, Parker and Penelope, and he shyly waves back at you with a small red blush on his face.
Oh, you don’t know, do you? How sweet.
Before Zoey has a chance to set the bottle on the floor, someone’s large shadow is cast over you, blocking the light from hitting your eyes until you look up at him.
“Volt!” You’re excited to see him, after being torn from his side the moment you stepped in the house, but he doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm as he wears a small frown on his face.
“A moment, live wire?” Volt asks, offering you his hand so you can stand with no issue.
“Of course,” You squeeze Zoey’s shoulder before he wraps an arm around you and ushers you away from your friend, “don’t have too much fun without me!”
“I will,” Zoey purses her lips as she looks down in confusion, “or I won’t? Which one means that I will have fun, but not too much fun without them?”
Sweet, innocent Zoey… she has no idea that she’ll die by your hand!
Volt pulls you along, leading you into a spare bedroom before he locks the door behind you.
“Honey, what is this-” You pause when Volt pins you to the wooden door, spoiling you with hungry kiss after hungry kiss that makes you feel truly wanted by him, “-oh.”
“I couldn’t let them take you from us,” Volt murmurs as your fingers find their way into his curly white locks, “Our little spark can have everything they want from us, but is everything not enough for you? What else can we do so your eyes only gaze upon us?”
There are many, many possible options you could explore-
“Fuck me,” You answer quite confidently, “but we do it my way.”
Or we could go back to sex. That’s fine. I like that option!
“Is that all?” Volt’s hands slide up your shirt as you subconsciously raise your arms, so he can remove the fabric that separates your body from his. “You want to direct my actions, so that I have the opportunity to make you ours — forever ours — again and again and again… Darling, you should’ve said something sooner.”
He wears a wolf-like grin before you smash your lips against his, pulling on the collar of his shirt as his hands roam your abdomen.
“My light, I will gladly partake in the art of pleasuring you.” He chuckles when his trail of kisses down your neck causes you to whine softly. “Tell me your deepest desires and strongest wishes. I’ll make them all come true.”
While Volt’s romantic talk would normally pull at your heartstrings, you’re more concerned with the poetic art of getting yourself off, so you take his hand and harshly guide it towards your hole. Volt matches your eagerness by creating fast, frenzied hickeys across your exposed collarbones as one of his fingers circles your entrance.
“Make sure everyone at this goddamn party knows that I’m yours,” You groan when Volt’s finger slips inside of you, “that no one will ever take yours and Eddie’s place. No one will love me or fuck me the way that you do, Volt.”
“You know just what to say, don’t you, darling?” Volt purrs, grinning like an idiot when you’re made speechless by the rhythm of his finger pumping in and out of your hole. “This doesn’t seem any different from when we have you-”
Volt whimpers when your lips meet his and you shove your tongue down his throat as he continues to fuck you on his fingers. You’re so used to both of your boys being so composed and calm when they pleasure you, and you’d like them to feel that intrinsic, carnal need that you feel every time you sleep with them.
You’ll play the long game, if you must. Days and weeks of this, of pulling them closer and closer to the edge until they can't help but rip your clothes off the moment they see you. Perhaps edging them is a bit cruel, but all’s fair in love and war, huh?
He has no idea of your plans, simply reveling in the affection that you’re pouring into his heart and soul as he slides two more fingers inside of your cunt before he sets a more brutal pace with his digits.
“Volt!” You shriek in delight, not bothering to slap a hand over your mouth since you’re still pinned to the door, and everyone who isn’t drunk or stoned out of their minds heard you the first time.
The music isn’t even playing that loud… the two of you are playing a dangerous game, fucking in someone else’s room. Tsk, tsk, tsk!
You wrap a shaky leg around Volt’s middle, giving him more access to your body as you steady yourself by placing two hands on his shoulders.
“You do little to satiate my hunger for you, spark,” Volt whispers as you feel an orgasm build inside of you, “every hushed breath, every quiet noise, every moan of my name makes me fall deeper into the endless abyss that is you. I wish I could pause time and spend eternity making you feel like the god that you are.”
You certainly feel like you’re in heaven, with how Volt’s moving his fingers and making you feel more alive than the act of slicing someone’s throat does, but you still manage to hold on to your mission in the back of your mind.
No matter how much he begs, you can’t let him have his way with you. Even if that’s what you want. This is a lesson for them to let you have your way with them more often. Make sure that it’s effective.
With your head tilted towards those very heavens that Volt claims that you’re a part of, you cry out his name one final time as your slick coats his hand and your underwear. You feel dizzy as you press your forehead to Volt’s, peppering his face with soft kisses as he removes his hand from your sex.
“Eddie’s obsession with your taste is warranted, darling,” Volt places one of his fingers in his mouth, cleaning it off with his tongue before he offers the others to you, “perhaps you’d like to know why he can’t think of anything but you when he’s partaking in his favorite meal.”
Adventure and thrill-seeking runs in your blood, dearest. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to taste yourself on his fingers?
You nod, allowing Volt to feed you your own release, and you can’t help but moan as your tongue runs over his digits.
“Fuck, that’s good.” You kiss Volt’s hand, causing him to softly blush before he pulls his fingers away from your lips.
“Perhaps now we can-”
The sound of three sharp knocks on the door sends you scrambling as you try to find your shirt in someone else’s home. You’re barely able to make yourself look presentable as Volt cracks the door open.
“Ah, Beverly! What a delight,” Volt’s gritting his teeth as you fix the collar of your shirt, proudly displaying the marks he gave you, “can I help you with something?”
“Eddie wanted me to grab them,” You hear Beverly calmly address Volt as she tries to peer into the bedroom, “we’re having a bit of a… competition, and we wanted an unbiased third party. As unbiased of a third party as we could get, because Eddie claimed that Kopi picking me over him was unfair-”
“-we’re in the middle of something-”
“-we heard.” She sternly says before she chuckles. “You’ve got quite the vocalist on your hands. Hey, if you’re in there, I need you center-stage in fifteen-”
“-I can be there now.” You smoothly enter the conversation, pecking Volt on the cheek before you force the door to open all of the way. “We’re done here.”
“Are you sure? Volt seems a little-”
“-he’s fine.” You reassure Beverly before you kiss Volt, and you’re almost tempted to shut the door in her face when Volt moans into your mouth.
It’s a desperate, last-ditch attempt on his part to get you to stay and make love to him until you’re both seeing stars.
But that’s not what you want, is it? You want more of him whining into your mouth, bucking his hips into you as he chases after a release that you will not allow him to have until you have your own-
“Coming?” She asks, and you have to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing.
The humor of a pre-pubescent boy with the killer instincts of a full-grown adult. You are stranger than strange, spark.
“Of course!” You smile innocently before you peck Volt’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, honey.”
“But spark-”
“-later.” You’re firm in your answer before you slip out of the bedroom to see a chuckling Beverly.
“Whatever weird sex thing you two are doing, keep me out of it.” She jokes, causing your face to warm as she leads you into the small kitchen area. “I think Eddie was about to tear down the door so he could have a piece of you-”
“-Beverly!” You squeal, smacking her arm with your palm before she presents you with two drinks.
“Take a sip of each, then tell me which one is better,” Beverly stands off to the side as a hand rests on your lower back, “no manipulating the judge, Eddison!”
“I miss my partner.” He grumbles as he leans against the counter, watching you with curious eyes as your fingers wrap around one of the cups. “You feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m…” You trail off when Eddie traces Volt’s marks on your neck with his fingers, “are they-”
“-visible?” He chuckles as you drink from the first glass. “Yeah. ‘Would’ve made ‘em bigger, if I was the one marking you up.”
Beverly sticks her tongue out in disgust, shaking her head as her arms come across her chest.
“What do you think?” She pivots away from your topic of conversation, redirecting your attention to the drink on your hand.
“It’s… nice.” You shrug while giving a non-committal answer. “Not my type of drink, though.”
“You said they would be impartial-”
“-we made the same fucking drink, Bev,” Eddie chuckles before he rests his head on your shoulder, “try the other one, live wire.”
“It’s yours.” You push Beverly’s drink away so you can pick up the one made by your boyfriend. “You put something special in it?”
“Maybe.” He raises his eyebrows when you look back at him, and you can’t help but laugh as you drink through a straw.
This one doesn’t have that edge that puts you off of the first. It’s perfectly fit to your tastes, which is strange. The two drinks should have similar flavor profiles.
He made it for you.
“You swapped out a few ingredients, and then you added some food coloring to make them look alike.” You proudly say, setting your drink down as Beverly throws her hands into the air.
“You are such a fucking cheater, Eddie!” She storms out of the room, leaving you alone with Eddie.
Hey, at least someone agrees with you!
He takes full advantage of the lack of prying eyes in the room as he places kiss after kiss on the trail of marks that Volt left on your neck. You giggle as his arm wraps around your waist, and you place a loud smooch on his cheek that causes him to blush a fiery-red color as he pulls away from you.
“Did Volt tell you why he pulled you away?” Eddie’s voice drips into your eardrum, causing you to shudder as he squeezes the flesh of your hips with his hands. “ Was it before or after he fucked you?”
“He never said a word…” You bite your lip as you shyly look away from him, “but I didn’t really give him a chance to.”
I wonder… would he have told you of the jealousy that grew in their hearts once they saw you in that circle? The hatred that made Eddie push Volt in your direction once he saw you wave at Chance? Or do you let old grudges stay buried until new ones come along to distract you?
“Couldn’t wait until you got to the car, could you? You begged him to take you right then and there,” Eddie laughs when your shivers give you away, “is that what you want? For us to take you where everyone can see?”
“No, I…” Your mouth dries out at the thought, “I wanted to have him my way.”
“Ah,” Eddie hums in understanding, “you made him beg for you.”
“Not at the start,” You tease with a sly smile, “but that’s how I left him.”
Eddie’s tongue pokes his cheek as he narrows his eyes at you.
“Spark, I don’t know what game you’re playing with us, but it won’t end like you think it will.”
“It won’t? Why not?” Suddenly, you turn on your heel so you’re facing Eddie head-on. “Do you think you’re immune to my charms?”
“Volt gives in to you, spark-”
“-you do too, don’t you?” You place your hands on Eddie’s chest, blinking innocently as you stare into his eyes, “Now it sounds like you’re challenging me.”
“Does it?” He leans in, brushing his lips against yours before he pulls your chest close to his, eliminating any potential space between the two of you.
“Oh, I am going to have so much fun breaking you, baby.” You say before you throw yourself at Eddie, taking kiss after kiss from him as his hands try to find their proper placement on your body.
“Fuck, live wire-” Is all Eddie’s able to get out as you continue your affectionate assault on him.
Your arms wrap around his neck as he stumbles backwards, and the two of you land in a conveniently-placed barstool that allows you to climb into Eddie’s lap once he’s settled.
“You’re not complaining now, are you?” You jest as Eddie looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
“Why would I?” He watches with rapt attention as you place your legs on either side of his, fully trapping him in his seat. “What’s going on in your head, baby? What do you want from me?”
“Lots of things,” You bite your lip to hide your giggles, “but let’s start with the simplest.”
You slide your hips closer to his, and he lets out a variety of curses when you begin to grind against his cock with your clothed sex.
“Shit,” He breathes out as his hands run up and down your side, “you really want to do this here? This isn’t like that time in forest, spark, someone could walk in and-”
“-maybe I want them to. Maybe I want someone to see us together so they know that you and Volt are the only ones who can touch me like this.”
You softly whimper when you roll your hips forward again, relieving some of the pressure that’s starting to build in your abdomen.
“You want me to watch, or-”
“-what’s the fun in that?” Your nose brushes against his as you both wear a playful smile on your faces. “It’s always better when we’re both participating.”
“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble with that attitude,” Eddie lightly chuckles before he begins to rut into you, causing you to loudly moan, “but not tonight.”
“Eddie, please-”
“-I’ve got you,” He hurriedly reassures you that he’s here as your bodies begin to press against each other, to the rhythm of your drumming hearts, “Is this what you had in mind when you brought us here?”
“No,” Your lips curl up into a smile, “I’m just an opportunist.”
Eddie tilts his head back, letting genuine laughter fall from his lips, as your mind fills with thoughts of him actually fucking you, rather than the grinding that you’re both participating in.
“Spark, I can’t get enough of you.”
Eddie’s words go in one ear and right out the other as his dick hits your sweet spot, causing your toes to curl as his hands hold onto your thighs for dear life.
“Look what you do to me — to us,” He waits for your dazed eyes to meet his before he starts to speak again, “how am I supposed to think straight when you’re squeezing me so tightly?”
“Eddie, please.” You claw at his chest, desperate for some form of relief. “Go faster, I can’t-”
“-You can take it, live wire. Just keep your eyes on me.” Eddie leans down, sweat dripping off of his body and onto yours, before he captures your lips in a kiss. “I love you. Don’t forget that.”
“Eddie!” Your fantasy, mixed with the pleasure of your bodies rubbing up against each other, sends you flying over the edge. “I love you. I love you so much, don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me-”
“-I’m here, spark,” His hand comes to your cheek as you continue to babble on and on, “hey. It’s alright. We’re here for you. We’re not gonna leave you.”
“It’d be in poor taste to leave you alone,” Volt jumps into the conversation, leaning against the doorway with a shit-eating smile on his face, “especially when you’re so desperate for us.”
They both feel the same way for you. You can exploit this, if you wish.
“I…” You trail off when Eddie presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Thank you.”
Eddie hums in response, and your eyes are drawn to the wet spot on his — and your — pants as Volt strolls over to you.
“I think we have quite the surprise waiting for us at home, no?” Volt places his hands on your shoulders, carefully massaging them so you can relax into his touch.
You go to respond, but a small yawn forces its way out of your lips before you rest your head on Eddie’s chest.
“I’m tired.” You mumble, and four sets of arms work to carry you back to the car so you can rest in peace. “Another night, perhaps?”
And another. And another. And another. You’ll be torturing them for quite some time, spark. I wonder when they’ll snap?
~
It’s unbearably hot in this fucking bar.
It wasn’t the owner’s fault that every AC unit in the building decided to fail, but they certainly could go about replacing it with a little more haste.
During the hottest month of the year, too? C’mon, you gotta get your shit together!
The first night was miserable, as you were dressed in clothes that covered you from head-to-toe, expecting the cool air to blast all over the bar as you waited on your tables.
That was not the case, and you came home as nothing more than a pile of wet clothing and sweaty muscles, swearing to dress better once your next shift rolled around.
Eddie — thank God that your boyfriends work at the same bar so they can give you a heads-up if shit is going sideways — sends you a quick text, warning you that the bar is even warmer today.
Fantastic. Guess you’ll have to wear shorts and a tank-top to work since you’ll melt in clothes that are any longer. The dress code had gone out the window since that very night, and many of your co-workers were dressed in similar outfits to yours as you strolled through the doors of the establishment.
You don’t see Eddie and Volt as you roam around the bar, crinkling your nose in slight disappointment as you head to the back to clock in. You quickly drop off your things before you fix your hair and prepare yourself for another hot, sweaty, and shitty shift.
The night drags on, and you’re often fanning yourself with your hand or your serving tray so you can keep your body temperature down. You’re polite yet apologetic with your customers about your circumstances, and most of them are friendly and sympathetic in return.
Well, all except one.
He’s not mean, just a little… friendlier than friendly, y’know?
“You doing alright?” A male customer around your age grabs onto your arm as you try to walk past his table.
You should slice his arm off for touching you!
“Yeah, I’m just a little warm,” You force a smile onto your face, “Could you-”
“-oh shit, sorry.” He lets go of your arm before he chuckles lightly. “I thought you were gonna go down. You look a little faint.”
“I’ll be fine.” You brush off his worries. “But I appreciate the concern.”
“Yeah, no problem,” He shrugs, drumming his fingers against the table as he awkwardly looks around, “do you go to school around here?”
“Uh-huh,” You nod as you hold your tray to your chest, tracing the edges with your fingers, “I live here, too.”
You both stare at each other until you realize that he’s waiting for you to ask him something in return.
Killing is your strong suit. Socializing? That’s better left to people with uninteresting, boring lives.
“Do you, umm-”
“-I live in one of the frat houses on-campus. Civil Engineering major,” The college boy smiles at you, “what are you going for?”
You confidently tell him your major before you, in your peripheral vision, see one of your tables waving you down in the distance.
“Sorry, I have to go-”
“-feel free to stop by when you have a free moment,” His eyes eat you up before he tilts his head towards the seat on the opposite side of the table, “I’ll grab an extra glass of water, and we can chat a bit more… if you’d like?”
“Yeah, a break would be amazing.” You groan as you wipe some sweat from your forehead. “Excuse me.”
You quickly attend to the needs of your other tables with a bit of pep in your step. You’re very excited to get off your feet and enjoy a nice, cool glass of water.
They’re watching, spark. Tread carefully.
“You didn’t melt?” Your new friend jokes as you take a seat next to them, sighing in relief when your feet are off of the ground.
“Not yet,” You chuckle under your breath, “but I might be a puddle on the floor by the end of my shift.”
“That’d be a shame.” His teeth bite down on his bottom lip as your brows furrow in confusion.
“Why is that?”
“Well, if you’re not busy, then maybe we could-”
“-one of the bartenders are looking for you.” A fellow server interrupts your friendly — Jesus Christ, you cannot be that stupid. — chat. “You know which one.”
“I do?” You think to yourself before your eyes widen in realization. “Oh, you mean Eddie.”
“Yes, I mean the one who always watches you like a hawk when you’re out on the floor,” They laugh as you quickly stand, “He looks like he’s about to tear this guy into pieces.”
“Eddie’s overprotective of me,” You explain before you move past your co-worker and the customer who’s still looking at you, even as you leave his side, “I should see what he wants. Chat later?”
You don’t leave him time to respond, rushing to the bar with a renewed sense of spirit as you spot Eddie as he leans against the bar and quietly talks with one of the other bartenders. His sleeves are rolled up, giving your eyes VIP access to his hands and forearms that flex with every motion of his fingers.
Much of your time is spent thinking about those hands, no?
“Eddie,” You place your hands on the bartop, leaning over the surface as you draw his attention towards you, “what’s up? Someone said you were-”
“-I was looking for you,” He calmly strolls over to you as he throws a bar towel over his shoulder, “was that guy bothering you?”
“No, he just asked me to sit with him.” You shrug as Eddie pecks your cheek before he places a hand on your forearm.
“Spark,” He murmurs against your skin, “do you know why he asked you to sit with him?”
You should, but you don’t.
“...No?” You scrunch your nose when Eddie tilts his head downwards and begins to laugh. “Hey, don’t make fun of me. You know I’m not good with people.”
“Baby, he was flirting with you,” He lightly pulls on a strand of your hair as your eyes widen, “you weren’t interested, were you?”
“He was?” You’re bewildered by the thought. “You know I’m not interested in anyone except you and Volt. Why would I? You two are enough for me.”
You’re not half-bad at reassuring them that you’ll stay, even when others try to pull you apart. They wouldn’t get a chance to, since your boys would just stab the shit out of them before they got too close to you!
“He’s looking at us,” Eddie whispers before you kiss his lips, causing a soft flush to appear on his face, “live wire, what are you-”
“-he won’t flirt with me if he knows we’re together, right?” You kiss him again, to prove your point. “This is your chance to make me yours, Eddie.”
You don’t need to tell your boyfriend twice.
“I’m taking my fifteen.” He yells to the bar manager before his attention goes back to you. “Car. Now.”
“You’ve got something in mind.” You whisper before he presses his lips to yours.
“You asked for this, live wire. Don’t forget that.”
With a hand on your shoulder, Eddie ushers you towards the car, and you’re quick to arrange the pillows and blankets in the backseat before you climb on top of them. Your hands work to pull off your top as he joins you in the back.
“You set a timer?”
“I don’t need to,” He murmurs, eyes dripping with lust as one of his hands runs up your exposed chest, “I can make you come in five minutes. Three times five is fifteen, last time I checked.”
“Fuck, Eddie,” You hungrily kiss him as his hands work to remove your pants from your body, “can I ride you?”
Eddie chuckles in a low tone.
“Whatever you want, spark.”
You like the sound of that, don’t you?
“I want you.” You bite down on his bottom lip, slipping your tongue in his mouth as you wriggle out of your bottoms. “I’m fucking feral when it comes to you and Volt.”
…No shit. Have you seen the way you stab people?
“I know. ‘Saw you looking at my arms. Were you thinking about this?” Eddie asks after he slips three fingers inside of your dripping cunt.
“Yes, yes, yes-”
“-that’s not what I had in mind, baby,” He softly admits, in-between desperate kisses, “but I have to get you ready for me.”
“I can take it-”
“-I’m sure you can, but I don’t want it to hurt.” He breathes his worries into the air as he lays back on the pillows, still fingering you in preparation. “Be patient, spark. You can do that for me, right?”
“Yeah,” Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod as you free his cock from his pants, “but I don’t know how long I can last.”
“Just a little longer,” Eddie waits for you to quietly mewl before he pulls his fingers from your hole, “there. Now, be- shit!”
He loudly curses when he feels your walls squeeze his dick, and his fingers eagerly dig into the flesh of your thighs as you enjoy the feeling of being so full of him.
“Three times,” You breathily say before you begin to bounce on his cock, “that’s what I’m getting out of you.”
“Fuck,” Eddie shudders as he locks eyes with you, “don’t stop.”
“Why would I?” You throw a teasing remark his way before your eyes roll back into your head. “God, Eddie, you make me feel so good. ‘Can’t believe we haven’t done this more often.”
“If you moan any louder,” Eddie tries to take back the reins of control with a small, loving slight, “we’re gonna get caught-”
“-you park away from the streetlamps for a reason.” You shoot back as you increase the messy pace of your hips. “You want privacy, so you can claim me in private and then show me off in public… tell me that I’m wrong.”
Eddie lets a small smile slip onto his face.
“Let’s see if you still have that attitude after you’re done with me,” He challenges, “I bet you’ll only be thinking of me as you stumble back into that fucking bar-”
“-and you’ll be thinking of this,” You place your hands on top of his, intertwining your fingers with his after he gives your thighs one last squeeze, “You’ll be drooling at the thought of tasting me.”
“You are unbelievable,” He scoffs, “‘Got me thinking about the way you taste when you’re bouncing on my cock. Do you know how fucking addictive you are? ‘Could spend the whole day fucking you, and I still would want more.”
“Eddie,” Your hips stutter as a knot threatens to snap in your stomach, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”
“-that’s it, spark.” Eddie’s words successfully coax an orgasm out of you. “I’ll make you ours.”
You pant, shivering as you feel his come coat your insides. You really are theirs — who else would they lay claim to in such an intimate way?
“Thank you,” You lean down to kiss his lips with a mischievous look in your eyes, “but we’re not done yet.”
Oh, you’ll get your way with your boys, alright.
You and Eddie awkwardly shuffle into the bar after two more rounds, lips bitten and cheeks flushed as you look anywhere in the world but at each other. Your clothing is in one piece, at least — just don’t look in a mirror and admire your hair or neck for too long.
What can they say? They like to leave bits and pieces of themselves all over you. Until there’s a ring on your finger, that’s the best way they can subtly tell others that you’re taken.
You resume where you left off, serving your tables with more warmth pooling in your belly as you sneak the occasional glance at Eddie, who meets your eyes and shoots you a small wink when he’s not busy cleaning bar glasses. Every single time, you giggle under your breath like a school child who has their crush’s attention for their very first time.
You like to be admired by them. Whether you’re wearing blood or nothing at all, you’re always the apple of their eye.
A light tap on your shoulder disturbs your sweet fantasies, and you’re in half a mind to lecture the person that’s bothering you until you realize that it’s your little friend from earlier.
The one that Eddie and Volt are planning to kill, once you glance the other direction and become too busy to notice their mutual murderous gazes.
“Can I help you-”
“-there’s, uh… the, um-” He stammers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he vaguely gestures to your leg, “there’s something running your leg.”
“Huh?” Your gaze turns downwards, and, sure enough, there’s a small stream of Eddie’s come dripping down your leg, directly from your cunt. “Oh, shit!”
You go to wipe the liquid up with your fingers, since your shorts won’t cover the trickle that’s falling down your thigh, but a towel and someone else’s hand cleans Eddie’s seed from your body.
“There you go, darling,” Volt’s voice is soothing to your ears, and his hand on your back is somewhat needed as you’re still a little wobbly on your feet from your amorous encounter with Eddie, “isn’t that better?”
“Thanks, honey.” You peck Volt on the lips before he pulls you closer, peppering a few kisses to the crown of your head.
“Anytime, little wire.” He murmurs before he addresses the elephant in the room. “Excuse us. My partner needs some assistance in cleaning up after themselves.”
But it was Eddie who made the mess!
You wait until you’re out of earshot of anyone to plead your case to Volt, who leads you into one of the bar’s backrooms.
“Eddie tried to keep it all inside of me, I swear-”
“-my light, I’m not upset with you,” With your hands in his, he guides you to a metal chair before he tugs your shorts down your thighs, “I’m disappointed that the two of you didn’t send an invitation my way.”
“Eddie dragged me out of the bar before I could get another word in-”
“-you don’t usually pin the blame on Eddison, my light,” He wears a playful grin as he sits on his knees, continuing to pull your bottoms from your body, “is that truly what happened?”
You sigh, accepting that you’re not getting out of this one unscathed.
“I called his bluff,” You fold your arms over your chest as Volt’s fingers tangle themselves in the band of your underwear, “and you can guess what happened.”
“Spare me no details, I-” He pauses when he sees, once he pulls down your underwear, that your hole is stuffed with Eddie’s come. “Ah. He really made you his-”
“-ours.” Your hand goes to his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “He wanted everyone to know that I belonged to you and him. I think he did a pretty damn good job of it. The guy who was flirting with me seemed pretty spooked when he saw that.”
“He knew better than to take us from you,” Volt ominously says, “you will always be ours, as we are yours to use and consume. You are our universe, our sole reason for acting in such murderous ways. Your will is ours, dearest. Use me — use us — as a way of enacting it.”
“What if my will isn’t all about murder?” You tilt your head at Volt as he eyes the twin streams of come that trail down both of your thighs. “What if I want you to drown in me? To make yourselves a part of me, so I don’t know where you and Eddie end and I begin? What then?” “Then,” He pauses, raising his eyebrows for dramatic effect, “I’d tell you to command me as you wish. Make me act in the ways that are most desirable to you.”
“I would do that,” You giggle, still a little loopy from your three previous orgasms, as you spread your legs for Volt, “but I think you know what to do.”
Without a word of argument, Volt’s tongue runs up your left thigh, then your right to collect all of Eddie’s seed into his mouth. He whines at the taste, especially when you tangle your fingers into his hair to force him closer to your hole.
“Be a good boy and eat me out.”
Volt’s lapping at the mixture of your fluids and Eddie’s release at a speed that’s unknown to man until this very moment. He’s very eager to sample such a divine cocktail, and there’s plenty for him to devour as you know Eddie didn’t let a single drop go to waste.
“You did a really good job, spark,” Eddie presses a few messy kisses to the side of your face before he shoves his cum back inside of your hole with two of his fingers, “but I need you to keep this inside of you.”
Tiny, pathetic whines leave your lips at occasional intervals as your thighs wrap around Volt’s head. He happily accepts the suffocation, moaning a soft ‘thank you, my sweet spark’ when you squeeze his head with your thighs.
“You’re so handsome when you’re in-between my legs,” You’re not cruel as you encourage Volt to take and take and take from you as his tongue dives into the most sensitive parts of your anatomy, “so pretty when you’re red in the face. Is it because of me, or because of the lack of air?”
Cruelty is reserved for your victims. You might be a teasing little shit to your lovers, but it doesn’t really go beyond that. They might think so, after you push them to their limits, but you know they’ll take what they want from you once they’re fed up with your antics.
Volt doesn’t answer, too content with eating you out as whimper after whimper from you only makes him more eager to please you, and you find yourself approaching a precipice of pleasure as your legs begin to shake.
“Volt, I need you… Please, honey, don’t stop until I… I-” You’re cut off by an animalistic moan that tears its way out of your threat. “Fuck, Volt!”
You run your fingers through Volt’s curls, allowing yourself to rest against the back of the chair as Volt rests his head on one of your thighs as he glances up at you. You have to bite your lip to contain a whimper at the sight of Eddie’s come and your slick coating his lips.
That’d be his lip gloss of choice, if he could wear that all of the time.
“My light, my darling, my divine spark, you are delectable-”
“-ah, ah, ah,” You scold Volt, harshly tugging on a few strands of his hair, “did I tell you you could stop?”
~
Your way.
Eddie and Volt had thought, rather naively, that your way would be similar — if not identical — to their way. Maybe you’d take charge in bed, and order them around a bit more as they pleasured you in all of the ways you deserved.
Alas, that was not what you had in mind. For the last few weeks, you’ve been torturing your boyfriends. Riling them up with small touches and sweet kisses before you’re pulled away by work or school obligations, denying them what they want most as you redirect their attention elsewhere, and, worst of all, slipping away when they need you to get them off.
It’s been three weeks, twenty-one days, five-hundred-and-four hours. Volt and Eddie have had enough.
Perhaps it was in poor taste to swipe your pajamas from the bathroom counter while you were showering, to force a confrontation between you and them, but what else could they do? You managed to stay out of their reach, no matter how tightly they held on to you, and they’re sick of not having you as they want you.
Do you not see how desperate they are for your attention and affections? It’s rather mean of you to deny them the satisfaction of claiming you in more than one way. They want you so badly that it might break them. You might break them.
With damp hair, you innocently stroll into your room to find your clothes, with a towel wrapped around your middle for modesty. You look around, completely confused until Volt pins you to the bed before he removes the bath towel from your body.
“Surprise, spark,” Eddie combs a bit of hair out of your face as Volt’s hands wander all over your body, “Do you know what you’ve been doing to us?”
“Naughty little spark, abandoning us in our most dire moments,” Volt tuts as he leads a trail of kisses down your neck and chest, “you insist on inflicting this torture on us. Why, darling? Why must you be so cruel?”
“I was having a bit of fun,” Your lips curl into a smile as you use your arms to hide your naked chest, “what? You don't like it when I bend the rules a little, even when I think it benefits you?”
“Live wire, what are you-” Eddie cuts himself off as his eyes widen in realization. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah, it's not exactly fun to have someone take your autonomy away from you, especially when it's something you enjoy,” You move your head up to kiss Eddie on the lips before you gesture to Volt to come closer, “I trust that you've both learned your lesson?”
“Loud and clear, my light,” Volt chuckles as his mouth presses against yours, “I don't suppose there's any way we can make it up to you?”
“I think we all have some interesting ideas,” You playfully bite your lip, “how about we do a little of what you want, and a little of what I want?”
…You don't have to ask your boys twice.
You three always work best when you're a collaborative force — whether you're maiming or fucking, a little bit of trust goes a long way.
Heyyyyyy diva, is the request still open🥺?
hey hun! thanks for sending in an ask! ❤️
yes, requests are still open! I am VERY behind because I've been working on my personal projects/wips as well as finishing up my last semester of uni, but I HAVE seen everyone's requests and I will get to them when my life is significantly less chaotic 💞
also, I haven't mentioned this previous, but I'd like to put it out there so I know I've mentioned it at least once. For all of my longer AU fics going forward, as soon as I finish with the main story, you can send in requests for that AU! ex. — your will is not your own is done, so you can send in Ghostface! Breaker Box Boys x Reader requests. <3 IWTV is the main fic and it's a wip, so I won't be doing any requests for the fic until it's done (IWTV and done in the same sentence feels like a fucking fever dream holy shit :FLAJFLKJFDS)
it's a bad idea, right? (fuck it, it's fine)
a/n: a small drabble for y'all before I begin the second-half of my last semester of college. Please get me OUT of here, i'm so ready to be DONE
relationship: mainly eddie x afab! gn! reader, implied eddie x volt x afab! gn! reader
cws: this is SMUT - you have been warned. light sub/dom dynamics, drunk sex, oral sex (afab! reader recieves), more munch! eddie because my horny nonsense demands to have an outlet JDJDJDJ
summary: getting drunk with eddie watts only ends in one way, and it's guaranteed that you'll like the journey and the destination. - 1.2k words! [read on ao3!]
This is a bad idea.
You can feel your drunken self holding onto some sense of logic with that thought.
This is a bad, bad idea… fuck it, I’m doing it anyway.
You immediately discard that logic in favor of reminiscing about how you got into this very position, where you’re plastered out of your mind and thinking about tearing Eddie’s shirt off as he leans towards you.
“You don't have any room for this.” You set the bourbon bottle down in front of Eddie, blowing a bit of hair out of your face before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Find room.” He huffed, head bowed in concentration as he studied the inventory sheet on the bar top.
“I tried, baby,” You began to massage his shoulders, eliciting a groan of relief from him, “why don't we take a break?”
“You've got something in mind.” Eddie guessed as you looked away from his piercing steel-grey eyes. “Spill, spark.”
“If we can't find room,” You hummed, “why don't we make room?”
Eddie chuckled.
“You think we can finish this whole bottle?”
“Not this bottle,” Your nails raked down the back of his neck, causing him to shiver, “but I think we can finish a nearly-empty bottle or two.”
“You're trying to distract me with a drink.” Eddie accused, and you leaned over his shoulders to look at him.
“Is it working?”
You saw the tiniest smirk on his face as he glanced up at you.
“...Maybe.”
You were fine after the vodka, a little buzzed once you finished the whiskey, and you were completely gone by the time you had a few glasses of that new bourbon.
Eddie wasn't doing much better, if his rosy cheeks were anything to go by, and you've both been sneaking glances at each other as pleasant conversation flows like the smooth liquor falling down your throat.
“Never seen you like this,” Eddie murmurs, soft, glazed-over eyes glancing at you as an affectionate hand goes to your forearm, “you're always wound-up tight. It’s nice to see you relax.”
“Same goes for you, Eddie,” You point out the hypocrisy before you softly chuckle, “I, uh… don't get drunk too often, unless I'm with someone I trust.”
“You trust me?” Eddie's blush grows impossibly larger as you slowly nod.
“You and Volt,” The words spill from your lips before you have a chance to catch them, “it's like I met another part of my soul when I met the two of you.”
“Stop it,” He quietly whines, “you sound like Volt.”
“I know I do, but I'm missing the charming attitude, pretty white hair, and gorgeous eyes-”
“-I like you the way you are.” Eddie whispers, cutting you off before you shyly look away from him with a warm flush on your face.
It's at this moment that you flirt with another bad idea — this one in particular tells you to climb into Eddie's lap and make out with him until the sun rises in the sky — especially when this version of Eddie looks at you like you painted the stars in the sky.
Well, Eddie normally does, but then he would usually glance away with a blush on his face; however, he’s currently employing a drunken, persistent, lingering gaze that undresses you in all of the right ways.
I need to make out with him. Now.
“Can I kiss you?” You're normally much less blunt, but the dull buzzing in the back of your head has stripped you of your tactful edge. “Sorry, that was-”
“-Yes.”
Did he just say yes?
“Wait, what?”
“I said yes, baby,” His hands eagerly reach for your hips, “now, c'mere before I change my mind.”
You laugh in delirious excitement as your arms wrap around Eddie's neck, and your thighs squeeze his legs after you sit in his lap.
A gentle kiss fails to satiate the hunger you have for him, so you steal messy kiss after messy kiss from his lips. Eddie matches your intensity with equal fervor, and his hands are reaching for any part of your clothing or body that’ll allow him to close the barely-existent distance between the two of you.
This is everything I hoped for and so, so much more.
“Fuck, spark,” He pants, wearing a light smile as he places his forehead against yours, “I love you.”
“You're drunk,” You point out, “you only say shit like that when you've been-”
“-You're clingy when you're drunk,” Eddie chuckles before he plants a few wet kisses down your neck, “hornier than usual, too.”
“Hey!” You whine as Eddie places his hands on your hips, just so he can quickly stand and pin you against the bar top. “Eddie-”
“-I'm starving.” His fingers pull at the waistband of your pants before you grab his collar and pull him in for yet another kiss.
“We can grab something from the-”
“-You, baby. I'm always hungry for you.” He nervously chews on his bottom lip. “Can I have you as a snack?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes-
“-Yeah.” You nod, breath caught in your throat as Eddie leans in and kisses you. “But I thought you said no-”
“-my bar, my live wire, my rules.” Eddie calmly states as he removes your underwear and pants in one effortless motion. “I'll clean up the mess you'll make.”
“Who says that I'll make a mess?” You tease, running your hand through Eddie's hair and wires as he drops to his knees.
He laughs as he eyes the slick that's falling down your legs.
“Me. I'll make a mess of you, spark.”
Eddie's tongue runs up one thigh, then down the other, before he laps at your cunt mercilessly. You can feel him poke and produce at every bundle of nerves in your hole as he tries to discover the one that'll make you come the fastest.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” You speak his name in a rhythmic chant as you feel a warmth pool in the lowest part of your stomach. “‘Can't think when you do that.”
“Then don't.” He offers you a simple solution in-between gasps of air. “Focus on me. I'm right here, spark.”
“Okay.” You murmur before a few small licks to your sex elicit a mewl from your mouth. “Please don't stop.”
“Not a fucking thing in the world could pull me away from you.” Eddie reassures you before he dives in once more.
One of your hands plays with a few strands of his hair as the fingers on your other hand curl around the bar top, keeping you upright as you let moan after moan escape your lips.
More, more, more. You need more of this, more of what Eddie's freely giving you as he devours his favorite meal in the whole fucking world, and your legs begin to shake as a tell-tale sign of an incoming orgasm.
“Close, live wire?” He asks before he answers his own question. “I know you are. Be a good little spark and come for me, yeah?”
Edfie's wish is your command as you sharply cry out his name, a wave of pure pleasure washing over you as your slick coats his lips and nose.
“Thank you,” He whispers as his tongue runs against his bottom lip, “should've had you as a chaser. You would've tasted good with the whiskey.”
“You still can,” You open your legs a little wider as Eddie gently squeezes your thighs, “as long as you make me come again, and again, and again.”
An Interview with the Vampire - Chapter/Episode Ten: Can You Find Me?
a/n: this chapter isn't as much of a nail-biter as the previous ones are, but I think it's got some interesting stuff to latch onto as we move into the second-half of our narrative! also rip to the de characters I use as side characters in this fic, I promise it is NOT personal LMAO
relationship: vampire! volt x vampire! eddie x vampire! fem! reader; vampire! eddie x vampire! amir; (implied) vampire! river x vampire! fem! reader
series masterlist! || french translations (I do not speak fluent french, so any corrections would be appreciated!)
cws: alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, crude/sexual humor, murder, gore, violence, blood, religious guilt, religious themes, age gap relationship, toxic/unhealthy relationship, insecurities about reader’s body, internalized misogyny, unreliable narrators, emetophobia warning, reader suffers from depressive episodes and suicidal ideation, domestic violence is referenced, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, fasting/starvation, slut-shaming, assumed main character death, hallucinations, generalized descriptions of the horrors of war spoilers for s2ep1 of amc’s iwtv! some very disturbing/abusive/toxic behaviors will be discussed and possibly romanticized. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED‼️‼️‼️
summary: Europe in the early 1940s is anything but a cakewalk for you, Harper, and Eddie. After four years of nothing but dead ends and dodging endless warfare, you finally encounter one of the old world vampires that Harper’s been so fascinated with. It, uh… doesn’t go well. Dolly’s got her hands full with three vampires. River’s an unfolding mystery, Amir’s vexing her at every possible opportunity, and Eddie’s… Eddie. Dolly’s tired of being lied to, especially when Eddie and Amir put up a lovey-dovey front as they begin to set the scene for Paris in the mid-to-late 1940s. - 17.8k words! [read on ao3!]
“Canary,” One of Eddie’s hands goes over his heart, while the other is being held in Amir’s for support, “is she…?”
“Alive?” River hums, holding a wide-ruled notebook to her chest before she nods. “You would’ve felt her loss in your heart, the same way you felt-”
“-did she hurt herself?”
“No, Eddie, she’s…” River drums her fingers over the cover of the spiraled notebook. “Better. Her mind has healed with the passage of time.”
“But Canary’s not here.” Dolly points out, slowly backing towards the table so she can grab your hidden letters.
She, of course, noticed that you exchanged letters with Eddie at regular intervals, given that the dates listed at the top were somewhat accurate, but she didn’t think that any were missing from his collection. It’s far too easy to slip them in a pocket of her jacket for later reading when River and Amir are glaring at each other with pure vile in their gazes.
“I couldn’t let her come to Berlin. Not until I knew it was safe.” River clarifies, holding out the notebook for Eddie to examine. “She never stopped writing to you, Eddison. She just stopped sending them in the mail, after-”
“-we have a spare bedroom prepared for you,” Amir cuts her off, “if you would like to stay with us.”
“I’ll pass. I’m only here to see if anything has changed in fifty years,” River lets go of the book once Eddie has it in his hands, “but, according to Dolly’s thoughts, it seems like it hasn’t. You’re still lying to Canary and yourself, Eddie.”
“She still thinks of me?” He asks as he opens your notebook, eyes watering as he glances at your words.
“Canary never stopped. She might’ve cut off your access to her thoughts, but she still thinks of you. Quite fondly, I might add,” River briefly smiles before she pulls a hotel key card from the matching blue purse that hangs off of her shoulder, “that notebook only contains a few months of letters. I have a suitcase full of her writing, all dedicated to you, and I’d be happy to hand them over.”
She calmly walks over to Dolly before she slips the rectangular card into her hand.
“You can find me here, honey. Bring Eddie and only Eddie,” River warns, “when you need a break from your interview with those two.”
No love lost between her and Amir, huh? Wonder what’s up with that?
“Good to see you too, River,” Dolly looks away, ignoring the heat that rises on her cheeks, “I’ll… think on it.”
“Please do. Canary hasn’t been the only one haunted by a past lover for the last fifty years.”
With a small wink, River leaves everyone in the wake of her carnage, casually walking out of the room as if she didn’t just drop a nuke on everyone.
“River must handle Canary’s,” Amir says your name with a certain level of passion that makes Dolly narrow her eyebrows at him, “affairs, as I handle Eddie’s. Azizam, I do believe that it’s in your best interest to hand over that-”
“-No.” Eddie looks up from your writing, holding your words close to his chest as a poor substitute for holding you, “River gave it to Dolly for a reason. I… whenever you’re ready, I-”
“-let’s take a break,” Dolly suggests, cutting Eddie off, “I think we’re all a little… worked up over everythin’ that’s happened. We can reconvene over a late dinner tomorrow, when I’ve had the chance to catch up on your girls’ journals.”
“I’d like that.” Eddie murmurs. “I have some reading of my own to do… Amir?”
The man in question glances at Dolly, then Eddie with an unsteady look in his eyes.
“If that’s what you think is best, my love.”
~
Through my darkest nights, through your brightest mornings-
“-through our harshest afternoons,” Your voice appears in Eddie’s ears as he devours every word you’ve written, “we’ve lived through it all. There is not another person I wish to weather the storm of life with than you, Eddie.”
“Where are you, sweetheart? I can’t find you.” He allows an illusion of his mind, an apparition of you that he’s created to cope with your absence, to snatch the notebook from his hands, “‘Can’t feel you out there, can’t hear what you’re thinking, can’t imagine what you’re doing with your life-”
“-I know you’ll find your way back to me, my love.” This hauntingly beautiful version of you sits next to Eddie in his bed, and you rest your head on his shoulder before you softly sigh. “Free yourself from this coffin of your own design. Step into the night and embrace everything that you’ve been running from.”
“Mon ange, I’ve tried everythin’. You’re like a ghost. All of your letters are sent from various P.O. boxes that have fake addresses attached to them, you don’t own any property or have any bank accounts tied to your name-”
“-why would I make it easy for you? Maybe I want you to chase after me, like you did all of those years ago,” You giggle, allowing your hand to caress Eddie’s face, and he frowns when he can’t feel your warmth because you’re not with him, “everything you need is in my letters.”
“We just talked about our lives and the shit we went through, Canary. There’s nothing in there to help me find you.”
“The stamps,” You point out, “although your assistant figured that one out after Amir meddled in our affairs and hid them from you-”
“-he apologized for that.” Eddie interrupts you, causing your nose to scrunch in disapproval.
“You saw something in the last letter I sent you, but Amir and Dolly distracted you,” You whisper as that realization dawns on Eddie, “find that missing piece. It’ll help restore your memories. I promise you that everything will fall into place soon.”
“You said Dolly would help, and she’s spent twelve days tearing into me with nothing to show for it.” He frowns, placing a hand on your stomach even though he’s talking to a ghost of his wife.
“She’s cruel but effective. Has she not helped you properly remember the night I was turned, and the night we attempted to kill Volt?” You ask.
“I know, it’s just… how could I forget something about you, Canary? I’ve memorized every outfit you wore, every word you said, every time you smiled at me…” He trails off as you climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to remember it all. The good and the bad.”
“You will, Eddie. In due time.” You reassure your husband before your lips ghost his. “You need rest. …Tell Dolly of your change in memory when it comes to Volt’s ‘death’ tomorrow. Allow her to de-mystify Paris for you.”
“Paris… it wasn’t how I-” Eddie pauses as he imagines you leaning in and kissing him. “-Canary.”
“I love you, Eddie. I wrote it over a hundred times in that one notebook,” You shyly smile at him, “you’ll always be my husband.”
“I wish you were here with me.” He murmurs as you slowly start to fade into nothingness.
“I often think the same,” You climb off of his lap before you disappear from his sight, but not without one final interjection, “Eddie, please find me. My heart breaks every moment that we’re apart.”
His hand extends to you, but you’re already gone. Eddie thought that your appearance in Berlin would end these delusional fantasies of his, but that hadn’t gone to plan, and now he’s stuck at another dead end when it comes to you.
“I will, Canary,” A tear falls down Eddie’s cheek as he reaches for your notebook once more, “I’ll find you, and I won’t leave your side. Not now, not ever.”
~
This isn’t real.
Eddie has to keep reminding himself of this simple fact, that he’s living in a fantasy of his mind’s creation in order to deal with the shitty reality that he’s currently trapped in.
God, it’d be so easy to pretend like this was his life, though. That Eddie’s hardest problem was the sun rising, making him squint his eyes as he glances at the liquor bottles on the shelf.
Out of pure self-preservation, he moves out of the way of the sun’s deadly beams. It’s all too natural to avoid sunlight after two decades of doing so, but this isn’t real life. He isn’t a vampire.
A curious hand extends, brushing against the sunlight, and Eddie watches as a golden hue merely reflects off of his hand. There’s no ash and brimstone, no stabbing pain, no death to be seen. It’s just the sun illuminating the streets of New Orleans.
An easy breath escapes him as he looks at the papers in his hands. He couldn’t sleep, as he had been a night owl since his days at Azalea Hall and he had yet to break the habit after leaving the establishment. Eddie tires himself out with busywork, so getting ahead on this month’s inventory seemed like a no-brainer.
The ceiling above him creaks — a loose floorboard that Eddie should repair before your apartment becomes crowded with another life — and, once the sound reaches his ears, he throws the bundle of papers down so he can climb the stairs to the bar’s second-floor apartment.
Eddie’s lived in this dream for a thousand nights, so he knows what’s to come. He’s let these events play out a number of times, but he prefers the outcome when he interferes, rather than being a passive observer.
The door to the apartment swings open, as soon as he reaches the top step, and a confused, befuddled version of you greets him.
“Eddie, what are you doin’ up so early? The sun’s barely peakin’ through our blinds-”
“-’couldn’t sleep.” He confesses, admiring you with a soft, tender look in his eyes. “Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that, considerin’ your condition?”
“Your baby woke me up,” You complain, rubbing your protruding middle that would never reach that size in reality, “‘n ‘m hungry.”
“Want me to make you somethin’?” He asks as his hands go to your belly, and he grins like an idiot when he can feel small, featherlight kicks against his palms.
“Could you, mon cœur?” You tilt your head at Eddie, and he responds with a sweet kiss to your lips.
“‘Course, sweetheart. You cravin’ somethin’ sweet, or…?”
You rattle off a list of your favorite breakfast foods as he grabs your hand and leads you to a kitchen chair. You’re nearly full-term, so a sigh of relief leaves your lips when you’re able to get off of your poor, aching feet for a while.
“How are you feelin’, Canary?” Eddie gathers the needed ingredients, glancing back at you to see a content smile on your face, before he turns towards the stove once more. “Are the aches ‘n pains goin’ away?”
“They do, but then new ones appear in their place,” You chuckle, “if it’s not my feet, it’s my back. If it’s not my back, then it’s my hips or my neck. If it’s not anythin’, then your baby is tryin’ to escape my womb by kickin’ the shit out of me.”
“She’s always my baby when she’s annoyin’ you,” Eddie jokes, shaking his head, “‘Can’t believe she’s almost here.”
“Eddie, we don’t know if we’re havin’ a girl or a boy yet-”
“-trust me, mon ange. You’re gonna have a little girl — our little girl — ‘n we’re gonna be a family.” His reassurances make you smile, and a hand casually strokes your stomach as Eddie grabs a plate from the cupboards.
“A family…” A soft gasp escapes you before you burst into tears. “Oh, Eddie, we’re really gonna be a family!”
“Canary, pretty girl, don’t cry.” He shuts the heat on the stove off before he walks over and comforts you with small, gentle shoulder squeezes. “You’ve always been my family, y’know that?”
“I know, it’s just…” You wipe the water falling from your eyes away with your hands. “We get to do this right. We both had such shitty upbringings, ‘n our baby doesn’t have to deal with that. Her mama ‘n daddy love each other, ‘n they don’t fight or argue or cuss-”
“-’m pretty sure we’ve done all of those things, sweetheart-”
“-but not like my family did. We argue about silly things, ‘n then we make up right after. My parents never did that,” You frown, “I don’t wanna be like that with you, Eddie.”
“We won’t. It’s you ‘n I, ‘til the end.” He promises as you press a kiss to his cheek.
“Eddie, I love-”
The sound of wood crashing against the ground pulls Eddie from his slumber, from the safety of a dream that can only be just that, as he stares at a disapproving Harper.
“Get up.”
A stern command, issued with a terse glare, before Harper holds her hand out. Eddie knows better — that level of kindness isn’t reserved for him, not after his little stunt in New Orleans with Volt — and he places a gentle hand on your back as you worm your way out of the cramped coffin.
You. Fuck, the last few years have sucked for you. Europe was supposed to be different, supposed to be the start of something new, but it was more of the same miserable bullshit for you.
Eddie didn’t want to be right. He wanted you to thrive in this war-torn hellscape, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. You had known a life of comforts that was only afforded to the rich and powerful, but that’s what you fucking deserved after all of the shit that Eddie and Volt put you through. You could rest when you needed to, be as picky as your body needed you to be with the humans you drained since there was plenty to choose from, and you had time to pursue the things that you loved doing.
None of that could be accomplished in the middle of an active warzone.
Move, move, move. Harper had a checklist, and she would be damned if your condition got in the way of her goals. Eddie sometimes wondered if she even cared, if she dared to look back on the days that Eddie had to carry you across the muddy, abandoned plains because your body simply couldn’t do it.
It would’ve been too much for anyone, let alone you. You, of all people, deserved a lovely European vacation where you could put your feet up and take a break while your body recovered from the strain it had been under for years.
“Can you walk?” Harper asks, wiping some dirt from her face that probably fell in as she slumbered in her wooden coffin.
She refused to sleep in the same coffin as Eddie, claiming that the small space was too cramped with three people, so she settled on sleeping in two coffins, side-by-side, every night. Like clockwork, she’d tear off the lid to hers, then storm over to yours to awaken the two of you as soon as the sun set. Then, you’d be off as Harper tried to find her ancient vampires that Eddie was convinced were nothing but a fairy tale that she read about in a book when she was younger.
If there were any vampires, they would’ve shown their faces by now. He feels like they’re chasing after a non-existent boogeyman — one that’s draining the life from your face with every passing day.
War isn’t kind to anyone, but it sure as hell didn’t have to be so fucking rough with you. You saw unimaginable horrors, things that would permanently scar anyone, and it tore your kind, sweet, gentle heart to bits.
There was a time, long ago, when you were excited to be out of New Orleans. Where you enjoyed chasing Harper around as she looked for other vampires. But when days, months, and years passed by with no sign of vampiric life, you lost hope. You lost that spark, that light in your eyes that made Eddie fall in love with you.
Perhaps it was torn from you, when Antoinette ripped you of your dignity and shamed you in front of your family, and you simply pretended to be happy until the mask slipped off one day, and you didn’t bother putting it back on anymore.
It didn’t matter to Eddie. He would hold you every night, brush away the spare tears, cuddle you and whisper sweet nothings in your ears as nightmares haunted your resting moments, and care for you when your body was unable to function on its own. Eddie’s going to find a way out of this hell, then bring you somewhere that’ll allow your mind and body the rest it deserves.
Canary, please take a moment to-
“I’m… fine.” You murmur, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you stumble backwards.
“Canary!” Eddie dashes out of the coffin to catch you, and he takes you in his arms as a hand brushes some loose strands of hair out of your face.
“I’m fine.” You softly repeat, not convincing Eddie or Harper as you nuzzle your head into his chest.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Eddie whispers, pecking your forehead before he glances at Harper.
She huffs, turning on her heel before she wanders towards some soldiers who are patrolling this area.
You need good blood. Not the sickly, miserable blood that Eddie and Harper can manage off of. You can barely drain one human before you’re throwing up the blood you need into a nearby bush. He hates that he has to force-feed you in order to keep you alive, but someone’s gotta do it.
“Mon ange,” Eddie lowers the volume of his voice as he watches Harper tear into a soldier from a distance, “‘m tired of seein’ you like this. I miss your smile ‘n your laugh. I miss you.”
You chew on your bottom lip, a fang jutting out of your mouth as you pick up the scent of blood in the air.
“It’s been years. Harper needs to let this go-”
“-No.” You weakly respond. “She hasn’t had anythin’ for herself-”
“-what about you, Canary? When are you gonna take somethin’ for yourself?” Eddie pauses, waiting for an answer that never comes. “You need rest. Someplace quiet, where I can run you a warm bath ‘n get this shit off of you.”
“...’m not the only one who reeks.” You mumble, causing Eddie to snort under this breath.
“Attagirl.” He’s reassured, for the moment, that his sweet yet sassy, loveable yet snarky, kind yet defiant wife was still in there.
Your heart isn’t gone — it’s just buried under a few layers of dirt, and your darling husband is ready to dig you out of that grave. You just have to stick your hand out of the rubble so he knows where to find you.
“Mama!” Harper calls to you, and you raise your hand in the hair so you can catch the freshly-prepared human heart that she tosses your way.
After much trial and error, with you spewing more blood than you could keep down, your companions discovered that you could, at least, drink the blood straight from still-beating hearts with little-to-no-difficulty. You were on a timer, though, since the heart would stop beating a few minutes after it was ripped from someone’s chest.
You didn’t seem to reach that limit, as your fangs always stole all of the blood from the organ before it stopped beating in your hands. You’re not self-conscious about the way you eat, letting blood spill all over the rags you call clothes, before you throw the shriveled organ off to the side.
“Taste good?” He asks as you tilt your head back, squeezing the palm of your hand with your fingers as you feel some energy return to your body.
“Not my favorite,” You kick your feet ever-so-slightly until Eddie will put you down, “but it’s enough. If I can keep it down, it’ll always be enough.”
He frowns, not daring to hide his disappointment from you. He doesn’t like the way you’ve blindedly accepted this life for your daughter’s sake. You deserve all of the best things in the world — things that Eddie can’t give you because you’re wandering through European countries aimlessly, looking for a myth that Harper’s accepted as the truth.
“Hand it over.” Harper slings a bag, no doubt filled with the remains of the man she just drained, over her shoulder as she approaches you.
You toss her the heart, and she throws it in the bag before she lights the cigarette that dangles from her teeth.
She shouldn’t be-
-she’s thirty-three, Eddison. Let her act her age.
Eddie relents, which is a habit he should most certainly kick if he wants to put his foot down and end your suffering once and for all. Harper quietly takes your hand, and the two of you wander off in the direction of the moon, leaving Eddie to his thoughts.
I’ll find a way out of here. Not just for you, Canary. For us. For her.
…But not just his thoughts. As soon as the two of you are out of earshot, someone else decides to make an appearance so he can haunt Eddie’s waking moments.
“Four years of grim wayfaring,” Volt murmurs into Eddie’s ear, causing the latter to jump in fright, “and still no sight of the benevolent vampire. So, how does denial manifest itself tonight? Sniffing German brandy?”
“You’re not here,” Eddie grumbles to the ghastly version of his lover, who appears to him in a white shirt, sporting a gaping neck wound that leaks blood all over his attire and the grass, “‘m just fucked in the head.”
“Quite fucked,” He agrees, which makes Eddie sure that he’s losing his mind because Volt would never say that, “Was she worth it?”
“Yes, she’s-”
“-not Canary,” Volt raises an arm, pointing right at Harper, “her.”
…Eddie doesn’t answer.
“Tell me you believe that she was worth it. Say ‘I do’,” Volt chooses to taunt in the space of Eddie’s silence, walking alongside Eddie as if he’s actually there, “I do, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do-”
“-stop!” He yells, regretting such an outburst the moment you look back at him.
My love?
“My love, I do, I do, I-” Volt stops, choking on the blood that escapes his throat until a fucking bat flies out of his mouth, “Oh. Purgatory is a lovely room for music. I have a new piece, Concerto for Gashed Throat and Orchestra.”
“‘M sorry-”
“-don’t say it again,” Volt waves Eddie’s sorrow off, “you ruin it with remorse. It was a perfect betrayal. You gave me a death of distinction.”
“Trucks are comin’!” Harper yells, her sharp gaze cutting through the hazy nighttime air. “We gotta get out of the way.”
“Are you gonna-”
“-But, to answer your question,” Volt moves in-step with Eddie, moving into the shadows as a distant explosion rocks the Earth below him, “I will kill you.”
“If you were,” Eddie hesitates as he speaks the word, “alive, you would’ve done it already.”
Eddie? What’s goin’ on? I can feel somethin’ in your mind. Somethin’ dark. I don’t like it.
Volt hums, placing a gentle hand on Eddie’s cheek.
“Oh, mon trésor,” A thumb races across Eddie’s bottom lip, “I’m merely waiting until you’re happy. So hurry up, Eddison.”
Volt offers Eddie a parting kiss before he fades into the oncoming fog, and Eddie’s left with more questions than answers until Harper tosses a bag at his feet.
“You take the body,” She directs with no room to argue or fuss, “I’ll grab our shit.”
Harper turns on her heel, grabbing the two small bags that you three called your possessions from your shoulders before she leads you and Eddie to a quiet, abandoned house with a blown-off roof.
Without saying another word to Eddie, your daughter lights a small fire that can quickly burn the evidence of your kills. Harper offers you one of your journals, but you shake your head, choosing to sit between the pair as a physical buffer.
Your hands are warmed by the fire, and your cheeks are cast in a heavenly glow as you avoid Eddie’s direct gaze. There’s a tiny smile threatening to escape your lips, and that singular beam of hope reminds Eddie of what he’s fighting for.
He needs to say something to Harper, but what does he say to a daughter that he betrayed that no longer wishes to speak to him?
You catch Harper’s eye, and the two of you silently communicate with each other — Eddie’s starting to understand why you felt so alone when he and Harper were blocking you out — before Harper nods, scooting her seat away from the two of you with a frown on her face.
“‘M cold.” You remark, choosing to carefully look at Eddie before you roll your shoulders back. “Hold me?”
You hadn’t asked for affection in years, simply taking what your husband offered you in your moments of crisis and need without anything to offer him in return, so to say that he is giddy is an understatement.
“Yeah,” Eddie moves closer to you, wrapping an arm around your side as you set your head on his shoulder, “anythin’ you want, sweetheart.”
“Blood’s miserable here. ‘Been thinkin’ that’s why we can’t get warm.” Your eyes flicker over to your daughter, who wears a scorned expression on her face as she places her hands near the fire. “I… ‘m miserable here.”
That draws Harper’s attention to you, but she turns away once she notices Eddie looking at her.
Harper, just give me an inch-
-No. ‘Give you an inch, ‘n you take a mile. Enjoy your wife, even though you don’t deserve her.
“-’n… Eddie?”
“Canary,” He plays with some stray ends of your hair, pretending like Harper’s words don’t hurt, “sorry, mon ange, I wasn’t-”
“-air raids.” Harper’s ears perk up as she picks up on a soft whirring that Eddie starts to hear once the plane draws closer.
If it’s not trucks, it’s air raids. If it’s not air raids, then it’s the silent tension between the three of you that strangles you all in your every waking moment. Four fucking years of hell on Earth as Harper continues to cross places off of her checklist.
Eddie’s been dragged over every part of Europe, or what feels like every part of Europe but the nice ones where people can relax, by an adventure-seeking Harper, who refuses to see the abandoned tombs and decaying vampiric bones as anything but a good sign.
“We’re gettin’ close!” She’d say.
Close to what? Driving each other insane?
Romania’s one of the last places on her list, a list that she proudly displays as the three of you make a mad dash out of the building before it’s blown to smithereens. She leads you to a paved road, where you would’ve collapsed on the ground if it hadn’t been for Eddie’s hand around your stomach.
“She needs more blood-”
“-one a night is all we can do. If too many soldiers go missing, people start askin’ questions…” Harper interrupts Eddie to place one of her small hands on your cheek. “Just… try to keep down. If not for me, then for him.”
You nod, panting with every breath as Eddie helps you along the road. The countryside looks like more of the same to him — forest in every direction with the distinct smell of death in the air — until your unholy trio stumbles upon the outskirts of a small town, where soldiers are shooting round after round into corpses before they load them into coffins.
Why are they shooting up coffins?
Harper asks, gazing towards Eddie as you flinch at the sound of gunfire.
I don’t know, but we should keep movin’. Don’t wanna get caught in-
-let’s go further into town.
She runs ahead, her curiosity leading her once more as Eddie squeezes your hand in support.
One foot in front of the other, mon ange. That’s how we’re gonna make it through this.
I’ll try, Eddie, I just…
You shake your head as the thought refuses to form in your mind.
We can talk when we’re safe.
With your hand in his, Eddie leads you into town, where Harper excitedly looks around at the various homes and shops that look completely abandoned by their owners.
Window shuttered, doors bolted.
It’s just like every other village we’ve seen. Folks left when the Russian rolled in.
Folks left? So who ran garlic ‘round these doors? Who nailed the crucifix to the wall?
Harper runs her fingers over a wooden crucifix as Eddie rolls his eyes, his patience with her starting to wane as you lean against him for support.
Why don’t you knock and ask?
Just like in the books, they think garlic protects them.
Your books?
He’s never understood your frustration with him reading books about women’s health until this very moment.
They think we hate Jesus-
-Don’t start back with your books! Your books are bullshit.
There’s a vampire here. I know it.
“Another crucifix.” She presents her find to you, and your fingers weakly curl around the wooden symbol of faith before you throw it behind you, nudging Eddie’s soldier with your own.
Russian soldiers ahead.
Oh shit-
-Don’t say anythin’ about anythin’.
Harper works to grab your falsified paperwork from her bag, quickly sorting through your journals and hers as Eddie’s hand drops to your stomach.
We can’t keep doin’ this, Eddie. I can’t keep doin’ this. I don’t like usin’ our baby to trick ‘em into lettin’ us through.
I know, sweetheart, but tellin’ the soldiers you need care is the only way we’ve been able to get over the borders-
-Harper kills ‘em right after, so what’s the purpose? To torture me further, like I don’t spend every goddamn night thinkin’ about how I’d rather be in New Orleans with my daughter?
Canary, I-
-She would’ve been twenty-two.
Eddie can’t read the emotion in your eyes — pain, misery, loss, and anguish combined into one unholy cocktail that serves to break your heart over and over again — but he knows that same feeling is mirrored in his own gaze.
Say somethin’ to Harper. She won’t listen to me, but you-
-one more round. One more goose chase. Let her try to find what she’s been lookin’ for, ‘n figure out a plan for what we’re gonna do if she doesn’t find ‘em.
Anywhere, mon ange. Name it.
Not here. I don’t care where we go. I need somethin’ of my own. A place where I can figure out what the fuck ‘m supposed to be doin’ with my life.
When you have a destination in mind, Canary, you let me know.
Harper converses with the two patrolling soldiers in a language Eddie doesn’t understand that she picked up from the soldiers that she drained every night. Her brilliance reminds him of yours as she picked up a multitude of languages in such a short span of time.
What he can pick up, however, is that your papers are not good, and that you’ll have to come with them if-
A muscular woman with short blue-ish, grey-ish hair steps in, speaking fluent Russian that puts Harper’s to shame. She speaks quite angrily to them, until the soldiers toss down your forged passports and forcibly grab one of the pheasants from her clutches as your price for staying in the country.
Once the pair of men are out of your sight, the woman folds her arms and begins to scold you three in her native tongue until she realizes that you have no idea what she’s saying.
“Americans,” She sighs, her Russian accent thick in her voice, “yes?”
Eddie nods, feeling relief course through his system. It’s been ages since he’s heard someone else speak a language that he knows, besides his two companions that barely speak in general.
“Okay,” The Russian woman begins to walk forward, gesturing for your party to come with her, “With the war, we all have a sad story. Are you… understanding my English?”
“It’s perfect.” You compliment, and the woman wears a soft red blush at your praise.
“Dasha.” She offers you her name, and you hesitate, looking to Eddie for reassurance.
You ‘n Harper need to make somethin’ up.
What about you?
…Have you forgotten, Eddison? Canary’s not my real name.
“Canary.”
“Like the…” Dasha flaps her arms in a manner similar to a bird, causing you to giggle under your breath.
“Exactly,” You, then, turn to Harper, “this is-”
“-Mary,” Harper lies as she plasters on a fake smile, “‘n this is my father, Robert.”
“We’re tired. We could use a place to sleep.” Eddie explains before he reaches for one of the sacks on Harper’s shoulders. “We have somethin’ to thank you with, for savin’ us back there.”
Two bottles lightly tap against each other as Eddie shows the neck of one of them to Dasha, and her eyes light up at the sight of alcohol.
“Vodka?”
“Oh, yeah.” Eddie allows himself to genuinely smile for the first time in years, and Dasha laughs in response.
“You will make lots of friends.”
She leads your trio into a large building that was once a mighty factory, and once you’re inside, you’re gawked at by people who are crammed together like sardines in beds that take up nearly every part of the room.
“There’s no more beds. You’ll have to sleep in the boiler room,” Dasha instructs as you shyly hide behind Eddie, not used to having so many eyes on you, “It’s warm, but the boiler’s loud.”
“Thank you.” You speak first as she leads you, Eddie, and Harper through a small walkway before she stops halfway through the room.
“Americans!” Dasha announces before she speaks in another language, announcing that you have vodka and cigarettes on you.
The room goes silent as everyone’s eyes are eating the three of you alive.
“They are not used to seeing… woman with good looks.” Dasha explains with a small wink, and your face heats up as Eddie softly chuckles.
“There’s a lot of people here.”
“Most are from town, some can’t go home. Their home is gone.” She takes on a somber tone as she anticipates your question before it leaves your lips. “I turned my back on my home, so now I’m here.”
“You’re not Romanian,” Harper points out as Dasha nods, “how come y’all are livin’ out here?”
“Stone walls and metal doors. It keeps the war out, and it keeps good people inside.”
Eddie takes Harper’s bags from her, setting them on a nearby chair as the three of you collapse into your seats, relaxing by a small makeshift kitchen in the far right corner of the large production floor.
“Is somethin’ goin’ on out in the woods?” Eddie dares to ask.
“Bombs in the ground, wolves, maybe German soldiers who haven’t gotten the news yet,” Her voice softens as fear enters her eyes, “or something worse.”
Or maybe vampires-
-Harper, let it go for one night. For your mother’s sake. She needs a little time to rest ‘n not think about everythin’ that you’ve got goin’ on in your head.
Harper shrugs as Eddie helps you out of your coat before he slips out of his.
Look, those Romanian soldiers have garlic around their neck-
-Harper, what did I just say?
“Soup for cigarettes. It’s a bad trade for you,” Dasha hands you a bowl with an extra serving in it before she places half-filled bowls in front of Eddie and Harper, “but God will forget when you die. …God will not forget, is what I meant to say.”
“Thank you for the food.” You wear a graceful smile on your face before you stir the soup with a bent metal spoon.
You two better eat. It was very nice of her to offer us somethin’ in exchange for our goods.
You don’t have to speak your wishes into the world twice — Eddie and Harper have full spoons by the time you have yours in your mouth.
Tastes like nothin’, but I’d feel bad lettin’ it go to waste.
“Americans?” A stocky, tall man with brown hair peeking out of his cowboy hat approaches the three of you. “‘Haven’t heard a word of English in half a year. Say somethin’, anythin’.”
“Uh, …somethin’, anythin’?” Eddie jokes, holding out his hand for the man to shake.
“Southerns, eh?” He smiles, wrapping an arm around Dasha as she comes to his side.
“Be nice, Abel. ‘Don’t scare off your new friends before you get the chance to meet them.” Dasha jests before she turns her cheek, lightly tapping the area so Abel knows where to kiss her.
“I’ve been teachin’ my darlin’ English when I have the time to. ‘Hard to get anythin’ done when I’m so enamored with her.” Abel laughs as you tilt your head at the pair, studying their dynamic with a certain focus that Eddie’s not used to seeing from you.
“Ah,” Your lips curl into a playful smile, “you’re a Northerner. ‘Can hear it in your vowels.”
“Midwest, actually,” He tips his hat to you, “who are you?”
“This is Robert-” Dasha starts with an introduction before Eddie interrupts her.
“-Eddie.” He waves away the fake name, causing you and Harper to glare at him. “And this is my wife, Canary.”
“...You’re jokin’,” He smiles, leaving Dasha to sit across from you and Eddie at the table, “or you’re not.”
“It was a nickname from my youth, ‘n it stuck.” You slip in a little white lie as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Canaries are fancy birds, so you must come from money-”
“-why don’t we have a drink?” Eddie grabs one of the vodka bottles, and that ends any line of inquiry as Abel gladly takes it from his hands.
Thank God.
He’s smart. We’re gonna get caught in a lie.
“What’s your name?” He turns his attention to Harper, who has been quietly sitting at the end of the table.
“Mary.” She answers before Abel gestures to a small boy who’s been hovering in the background for most of your conversation.
“Andrei,” He says the boy’s name as he grabs three empty glasses from the middle of the table, “maybe you can take Mary here to meet the other children.”
“‘M fine, sir, thank you.” Harper tries to be grateful, shoving down her resentment at being referred to as a child in passing before Eddie locks eyes with her.
“I don’t think it’s a half-bad idea-” He pauses when you kick his shin, gritting his teeth in pain before he continues on, “for her to meet the other children. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”
“I-” You’re about to lay into Eddie — he can tell just by the look in your eyes — before you realize why he wants her to go meet with the other children, “ah. The other children are quite perceptive, ma petite fleur. I bet they know everythin’ about this place.”
Andrei tilts his head to the left, and Harper quickly stands, following the boy out of the building and into the welcoming darkness.
~
I should’ve burned that fucker along with his Maker. I should’ve put my foot down ‘n done what I told him I’d do if he disobeyed me.
For fuck’s sake, I wanted to trust him. I thought I could trust him. Was I naive once more? A foolish little girl who still hasn’t learned her lesson?
Eddie is — was — my father, but now I don’t know what to think of him. We’re not companions, since that spot is reserved for the one and only Canary Watts. My mother, who’s the whole goddamn reason ‘m out here.
It’s not just for me. ‘M not out here tryin’ to find other vampires to make me happy. Sure, I’d like to meet one other vampire, besides my mama, who ain’t a fuckin’ piece of work, but she needs to see that there are other vampires out there besides me ‘n, most certainly, besides him.
Canary needs a new companion. Someone who’s gonna love her as hard as Eddie does, but then actually protect her when the time comes. He’s failed the test, again ‘n again, ‘n ‘m done givin’ him second chances. This old world vampire may not be the one, but they could lead us to another, and then another, and then another, who might be the one.
There’s gotta be another vampire who’s not as much of a fuck-up as Eddie is. ‘Can’t wait for Canary to wake up ‘n dump that dead weight on the nearest side street.
Andrei’s takin’ me outside, where the other children chat amongst themselves ‘n paint their hands with strange colors. They speak in Romanian, singin’ of a woman named Anna who lives in the forest. …A vampire, perhaps?
They think it’s a game, to run through the small hole in the wall and place their painted hands against the bark of an old tree, but ‘m done pretendin’ to be a child. The rest of the children look at me strangely, and one tries to get in my way, but I push ‘em out of the way with a hand on his forehead before I slip into the forest.
I see that the other children haven’t gotten very far, with their colored handprints only on the first few sets of trees, but I dare to venture further. There’s no nit-pickin’ husband or sickly, slowly losing-her-way wife that I have to pull behind me. I can wander and explore and find what ‘m-
A twig snapped. Something’s out here with me.
I look to my left, and I sigh in disappointment. Just a fuckin’ doe. Poor thing’s starved, ‘n it runs off as soon as it looks my way.
There are lights up ahead, and the faint sound of two Russian soldiers talkin’ make me nervous, until I hear somethin’ — someone — snarl at ‘em.
Not a human. Not an animal. Somethin’ different. Someone like me.
It hisses again, before one of the soldiers is thrown twenty or thirty feet into the air. The other tries to run off, but he’s thrown against a nearby tree, killing him on impact.
The Russian that’s still livin’ is slowly approached by a shrouded figure, who ‘m prayin’ is a vampire, before he’s lifted by the neck and pinned to the tree. I hear the man groan in pain as I shine the dead man’s light on him, and, to my absolute pleasure, I see blood drippin’ down its chin.
There’s vampires out here! Real fuckin’ vampires. This one doesn’t look… human, with its skull sticking out and splotches of hair growin’ from the parts of its skin that it still has, but it’s a goddamn vampire. Finally!
I try talkin’ to him — her? them? — in Romanian, but he doesn’t listen to me as he drains the man. I present my fangs before I try speakin’ to him in my mind.
Can you hear me?
His head snaps towards me, and I see the man go limp in the vampire’s hold.
I think he’s dead. You shouldn’t drink from the dead ones-
The vampire rushes up to me, clawing me in the face before he runs off with the non-drained human.
I did it. I found ‘em! There are other vampires out there!
I don’t care that the vampire doesn't look human. He’s a vampire! He doesn't have to be like the mortals!
…I have to go back ‘n tell Mama. She’ll be so happy when she sees ‘em!
~
“Your daughter,” Abel watches as Harper leaves the building, “and your wife, they’re quite-”
“-Canary’s my second wife,” Another falsehood spills from Eddie’s lips, but this one feels the most egregious because you will be his first and only wife, “Harper’s mother died a few years back, when the war first began.”
He has a comforting arm around your shoulders as you play with the frayed skirt of your dress, keeping your eyes downwards as Eddie pecks your cheek.
“How’d you end up in hell on Earth if you’re all Americans-”
“-my mother’s from Paris. ‘Been visitin’ some family since I didn’t have any marriage prospects in the States,” You frown as you contribute more lies into the conversation, “I was out one night, ‘n some men cornered me in a back alleyway. Eddie found me before anythin’ foul could happen, ‘n I…”
You bite your lip, softly smiling at Abel.
“He takes good care of me.” Your hand slips under the table before you squeeze Eddie’s hand. “Best husband I could’ve asked for.”
“You come here looking for a doctor?” Abel asks, noticing how your other hand lingers on your stomach.
“Abel.” One word from Dasha, and he’s reconsidering his line of questioning. “It’s impolite to say such things.”
“She’s obviously carryin’ a-”
“-Abel.” She brings an empty glass to the table as she sits in Harper’s abandoned seat. “Water?”
“Please?” You pair your request with a smile that has Eddie tripping over himself, and he presses a kiss to your temple as Dasha fills your glass with water.
“She’s been tired, with all of the travelin’ we’ve been doin’ to find a doctor that’s takin’ non-war patients,” More bullshit spews forth from Eddie, “but don’t let her fool you. My sweetheart’s a spitfire when she wants to be.”
“I’m familiar with the type.” Abel glances over at Dasha, who rolls her eyes.
“Are you also familiar with the boot I’m about to shove up your-”
“-cheers!” Abel clinks his glass to Eddie’s before he swallows his glassful of vodka in one go.
“Why are they firin’ into coffins?” He asks, sliding his glass over to you when Dasha and Abel aren’t looking so you can have a little alcohol — a little something — for yourself.
Thank you, my love. Not the best tastin’ stuff, but it’s somethin’.
“Farm boys commanded by farm boys,” Abel drums his fingers on the glass, “and the superstitions of a backward country. There’s a mad fog in the dirt, trees, and rivers. I keep my trousers pinned at the ankle when I sleep for fear it will get me too.”
“This is an old country with old things in it.” Dasha explains as you calmly sip on your glass of water.
They’re talkin’ about us. They think we’re monsters.
We’re not. You’re not.
Only a monster needs to drain three men a night in order to feel somethin’ other than hunger and misery.
Eddie’s hand finds your thigh, giving it a small, loving squeeze after he moves his chair closer to yours.
Is that what you think you are? A pretty, sweet girl who’d give the clothes off of her back to anyone if they asked is a monster ‘n a thing to be feared? No. You’re not hideous or disgusting or gluttonous or terrifying. You are givin’ your body ‘n mind the blood it needs to function properly. That’s all it is.
But Eddie-
-We’re done havin’ this conversation. I won’t hear my wife talk about herself like that. I don’t know what Antoinette told you that night, ‘n I certainly don’t want to know, but everythin’ she said was bullshit. She was jealous of you, sweetheart. Jealous that you were adored by me ‘n Volt, ‘n she took it out on you.
You bring your hand to your eyes to wipe away a bloody tear before Dasha or Abel can spot it.
…Thank you.
Always, Canary. Always.
“More mad fog,” Abel sighs as Eddie refocuses on the conversation at-hand, “and she’s currently village prefect.”
“I believe you.” You calmly say, nodding at the woman as Abel reaches for the half-empty bottle of vodka.
“Oh, I do too. I believe everything you say,” Abel leans in, kissing Dasha on the lips before he grins at her, “marry me.”
“When the priest comes back.” Dasha takes a shot of vodka before she wanders off to fix a crackling radio that plays in the background.
“That’s our inside joke,” Abel watches her as she messes with a few dials on the machine, trying to get a clear sound to come through the airwaves, “the priest was dragged away by our Soviet friends. …And by dragged, I mean, tied to a truck and dragged.”
You wince, bringing your hands to your chest as sadness flickers in your eyes. Even after seeing so much unnamed death in the mountains of bodies that you passed by, you still found room in your heart to care for a priest who you never knew the name of.
Your heart is too warm, too caring, too fragile for a place like this. It’s broken your spirits, and Eddie can’t watch you go through any more heartbreak. He won’t let Harper talk you into any more expeditions. This ends tonight.
“What’s brought you to Europe?” You ask, pivoting the conversation away from more talk of death.
“‘Worked for the Cincinnati Enquirer, and I ended up being the lucky one who got shipped over here to cover the war,” Abel brings the glass to his lips, “I think they forgot about me. ‘Haven’t heard from them in years.”
The room grows silent when Dasha gets the radio to work, and it begins to blast good news about a war that’s been nothing but doom, gloom, and torture for the poor souls who are trapped in this very building.
“The triumph over Hitler’s evil can be felt throughout France, and in no more fantastic an example than the priceless works of art being bundled up in the countryside, lifted onto trucks, and returned to their rightful place in Paris.”
Paris? Fuck, the answer’s been right in front of Eddie for years. A central hub of fashion and the arts — Paris would be perfect for you!
“And we of the BBC World Service, speaking for the rest of the western world, send a most grateful thank you to our allies in France with one of your very own.”
Dasha works to translate the news in Romanian to the company who’s gathered in the center of the room while Abel finishes the last of the vodka with a cheerful smile on his face.
“‘Think Dasha could use a hand getting tomorrow’s dinner ready,” He addresses you directly, causing you to look at him in confusion, “mind givin’ her a hand?”
“She’s not-”
“-go on.” Abel’s sudden sternness causes you to startle, and you quickly collect your empty glass of water before you stand and peck the crown of Eddie’s head.
If he tries anythin’ with you-
-put your fangs away, mon ange. I can handle myself.
Your hand traces the outline of his shoulders before you stroll towards the kitchen, and Abel only speaks once he thinks you’re out of earshot.
“Are you a Red, Eddie?”
“Hmm?” Eddie plays dumb, pretending like he doesn’t understand the gravity of the question he was just asked.
“Are you a Red?” Abel repeats himself, grabbing a cigarette from the middle of the table before he lights it. “No judgement. It’s just a simple question.”
“I am,” Eddie leans forward, placing his folded elbows on the table, “a magical vodka Southerner, who’s havin’ the first alright night in quite a while. C’mon-”
“-you’re either a deserter or a Bolshevik,” Abel cuts through Eddie’s joke, shooting for a straight answer from him, “which is it?”
“This is why he has no friends.” Dasha interjects, collecting the empty glasses before she joins you in the kitchen area.
“I told you already. We’re just lookin’ for a doctor for my wife-”
“-your wife is clearly from money. She was uncomfortable the moment she stepped into this place,” Abel points out his observations to Eddie, who can’t help but glance at you as you make polite conversation with Dasha, “You could’ve brought a doctor in from anywhere in Europe for her, but you’re here, instead-”
“-there’s a lady singin’ on the radio, ‘n I’d like to hear her-”
“-you two are comfortable with each other,” Abel continues on, cutting Eddie off with a half-hearted shrug, “like old lovers. You know each other’s habits quite well, as you can read each other from a glance, but Mrs. Watts doesn’t seem much older than-”
“-this is a road you really don’t wanna go down.” Eddie offers a stiff warning to his companion, who shrugs before he blows out a small puff of smoke.
“I like you. You seem like a good man,” Abel leans back in his chair, “so heed my advice. If you’re AWOL, turn back around and take your punishment. It’ll be paradise in comparison to Uncle Joseph’s utopia. Find a nice place to store your wife and daughter so they aren’t victims of the fallout of your actions.”
Eddie knows it’s far too late for that.
“That’s it?” He asks half-heartedly, noticing how Abel’s eyes are glazed-over.
“That’s it.”
Eddie snatches the bottle from Abel’s hands, setting it upside-down before he stands and walks over to you.
“That was unkind-”
“-’m cuttin’ you off ‘n takin’ my wife for a dance,” Eddie rolls his eyes before he lightly taps your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the vegetables you were chopping, “feelin’ up for it, sweetheart?”
You nod in excitement, placing your hand in your husband’s as he leads you to a tiny empty space where he can sway you from side-to-side. You let yourself laugh freely when Eddie spins you around, and he’s never been more thankful for you than in this very moment.
His shining light, the beacon of hope that’s been getting him through the last few years. You’re starting to act like yourself again, and Eddie wants — needs — you to stay like this. For him and yourself.
“If you’re a Bolshevik,” Abel interrupts your domestic moment with more of his commentary, “you’re making a fool’s bet.”
“You really want to marry him?” You tease Dasha, who places her hands on her hips.
“He’s got the big one down the pants.”
You and Eddie both chuckle at her response before you lean in and kiss Eddie on the lips.
“I love you, Eddie,” Your eyes shine with a familiar warmth that Eddie’s missed so much, “‘n I want you to know that-”
“-Mama! Daddy!” Harper yells as she enters the space, holding her arm and pretending to be hurt. “I fell out of a tree.”
Boiler room. Now.
“Harper!” You rush over to her, placing a hand around her shoulders before she escorts you into that very room.
Just like that, you’re gone. There’s a blank look on your face when Eddie shuts the door, leaving the three of you completely alone with the loud, warm machinery that surrounds you.
Canary, my angel… don’t go. Stay with me. Stay in my heart, where you belong.
“I saw somethin’ out there,” Harper lays on the floor, and you shift uncomfortably, looking to the side as she talks, “it was this big grayish thing, and clothes were rottin’ off it like it died in ‘em.”
She pauses, waiting for you or Eddie to answer before she holds her arm in the air.
“One of you has to break my shoulder,” She says, and Eddie steps in to do the job, taking her hand in his as his boot gently sits on her right shoulder, “Do it!”
Eddie winces when the sharp movement from his hand causes a bone to snap, which makes Harper cry out in pain while you face scrunches in discomfort at the sound of her agony.
“It was strong, and it killed,” Harper’s vibrating with excitement as she throws her broken arm around in a circle, “and it carried off its kill.”
This is the price he has to pay. Harper’s happiness for yours. You’d tell him that such a sacrifice was worth it, that any mother would throw her head on a blade for her daughter, but that’s not what you deserve.
“Was it a vampire?” He asks, throwing your bags down in slight frustration.
“It had fangs,” She says, like it was oh-so-obvious, “what else would it be?”
Eddie gathers the assortment of blankets and pillows that Dasha left for the three of you, and he attempts to make a comfortable resting place for you as he converses with Harper.
“A snake, a baboon-”
“-baboons?!” Harper looks at him in utter disbelief.
“Baboons have fangs-”
“-we’re in Romania! There’s no fuckin’ baboons here!” Harper then appeals to you. “Mama, please-”
“-did it speak?” Eddie jumps in, tossing your coats on a nearby railing. “Did you try telepathy?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, it spoke?” He’s starting to grow aggravated with her, and years of resentment are starting to flow out of his mouth when he speaks with Harper.
“Yes, I tried telepathy-”
“-so it didn’t speak.” Eddie grumbles.
“I think it was sick,” She then crosses her arms as she stares at him, “why are you laughin’ with them, ‘n givin’ out your real name? You even notice, while you’re makin’ friends, everyone’s got a crucifix ‘n they’re wearin’ garlic-”
“-Canary’s sick. She needed a night — one goddamn night — where she could relax ‘n enjoy herself. She can’t keep goin’ like this. I can’t watch my wife fade into nothin’ right in front of my eyes,” Eddie lets that point rest in silence before he addresses Harper’s concerns, “Mortals are scared of vampires in a part of the world known for vampires. That ain’t evidence of an actual vampire-”
“-there’s one of us out there!” Harper yells, getting into his face as you slowly back into a corner of the room, “But if he can’t take you ballroom dancin’ ‘n tell you you’re handsome, hell with him! Is that it?”
And now she’s bringing Volt into this. Great. Just great.
“Hello, grudge-”
“-No!” Harper exclaims. “I forgave you for messin’ up my plan for gettin’ me ‘n my mama out of there. I did not forgive you for bringin’ him with you.”
“Volt’s in a landfill, with four years of garbage on top-”
“-in here!” She points at Eddie’s chest. “You carry him in here. You slow us down because he lingers in your heart!”
“What were you gonna ask that vampire, if he could talk?” Eddie changes the subject, doing his best not to lash out at Harper’s correct observation.
Especially not in front of you. You haven’t brought up that night, where Eddie had a hand around Harper’s throat.
He refuses to say anything if you do the same. It’s best to let dead things lie where they are, no?
“You change the subject when the truth blinds you.” Harper accuses.
“Who made you? And then what? Who made the one that made you?” Eddie wipes his mouth with his hand as he taps his foot against the ground impatiently. “Fuck, Harper, what are we lookin’ for here? Adam and Eve of the damned? …God? Are we lookin’ for God, Harper?”
She sneers at him, grabbing a blanket and pillow of her own before she goes to the other side of the room. Eddie sighs, feeling the fight leave him as he’s pulled towards the makeshift bed on the floor. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. He just wants to sleep.
“Just leave it alone for the night-”
“-one vampire besides her,” Harper hisses before she looks at you, “‘m lookin’ for one good vampire besides Canary. I’ve met four other vampires in my life, and you’ve all been the worst: Volt, Antoinette, the motherfucker, and you. I refuse to believe that my mama is the only kind-hearted soul in the world. There has to be another vampire out there that ain’t a goddamn bastard!”
She refuses to elaborate further, making a nest for herself before she collapses into the soft bedsheets in exhaustion.
“...Eddie?”
Merde, you saw all of that-
“I don’t think you’re a bastard.” You murmur, playing with a few strands of your hair as you slowly walk towards him. “You’re a good vampire. I know you struggle with makin’ the right decision at times, but you don’t do it ‘cause you’re mean ‘n cruel. You wouldn’t hurt her — hurt us — like that. Like Volt did.”
Guilt crawls up Eddie’s throat, and a confession of what happened four years ago nearly slips out of his lips, but he shoves it back in before he can ruin your peace of mind.
“That night, Antoinette…” You pause, a deep hurt lingering in your eyes, “she held a knife to my throat before she woke me up. ‘Told me a bunch of horrible things that I didn’t want to believe, but I felt… I felt like they were true.”
“Canary-”
“-she told me that you never loved me. That you’d never love me, ‘cause I wasn’t pretty enough for you.” You sniffle, letting unshed tears fall from your eyes. “Antoinette saw me as a mistake. A plaything to get used and then thrown aside when somethin’ better came along. I know I was made for you, to keep you ‘n Volt together, but I… would you throw me away if someone else came along? Someone who was everythin’ you ever dreamed of, ‘n their body and their hunger was fuckin’ normal-”
“-that’s you, Canary. That’s always been you. There is not another vampire I’d rather spend eternity with than you, mon ange.” Eddie holds his hands out to you, waiting for you to take them before he pulls you into his arms. “I don’t care what Volt’s mistress said about you. She doesn’t get to say how I feel about you.”
With his hands still on your waist, Eddie brings himself to his knees.
“Why would I ever throw away the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me? Why would I give up my stunnin’ wife, who can’t help but draw attention to herself,” He chuckles as he squeezes your hips, “Maybe Volt made you a vampire for me, or maybe God sent down his prettiest angel to watch over me, or maybe we’re both the unluckiest people alive ‘n that’s how we ended up here. It doesn’t matter to me, Canary. Not when I have you. I will choose you over everyone else in the world.”
“If you had the choice of another companion-”
“-I’d never choose anyone but you.” Eddie hears you sigh in relief when he answers your question. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”
“I’d choose you, Eddie,” You whisper before you burst into tears, “‘n it makes me so happy that you feel the same way.”
You tackle Eddie into the bedsheets, desperate to feel his love and comfort, and he repeatedly kisses the side of your face as his hand strokes your back.
“I’d watch it all burn with you,” He murmurs into your ear, “Putain de merde, I’d burn it all down for you. Everythin’ that’s hurt you in the past, ‘n everythin’ that thinks about hurtin’ you in the future.”
But not Volt. He couldn’t burn Volt.
“‘M ready to start a new chapter of my life,” You whisper back after an elongated period of silence, “I need somethin’ to go my way.”
“That’s a problem for tomorrow.” Eddie lazily throws a bedsheet over the two of you, and you cuddle closer to him as a result. “You get some rest, ‘n we’ll figure out somethin’ in the mornin’.”
“Somethin’ that’s mine?”
“Somethin’ that’s all yours, Canary.” Eddie reassures you before you both drift off to sleep.
~
“My dreams were… weird, during those years. Like mismatched puzzle pieces of a life that was just out of reach,” Eddie explains as Dolly lackadaisically flips through Harper’s journals, “I think it was my way of coping with the horrors I’d — we’d — seen.”
“Your poorly-timed European holiday was-”
“-that’s the voice of the vampire Amir,” Dolly interjects to speak to her recording software, “disregard anythin’ he says, as he remains off the record.”
“It’s Eddie’s interview, Mrs. Molloy.” Amir states with a confident air that makes her grit her teeth.
“You’re at the table.”
“I’m in our dining room.” He clarifies, causing Dolly to roll her eyes.
“You’re not dining.” She hisses before she remembers to take a bite of her freshly-prepared salmon.
“Ancient vampires don’t need blood as often.” Eddie murmurs, staring directly at his intertwined fingers that rest at the table.
“Intriguing,” She leans forward to make direct eye contact with Amir, “and disregarding.”
“I’d like to thank you,” Eddie breaks the tense silence from Dolly and Amir’s standoff, “for the memories you’ve helped restore. It helps me understand what Harper and Canary were feeling all of those years ago.”
“And I want to thank you, Eddie, for yesterday’s eight hours on how to avoid the sun and torpedoes while cruising the Mediterranean war theater,” The sarcasm flows naturally from Dolly, “And tonight’s four hours and countin’ on chasin’ old world vamps who never materialize.”
She pushes her glass to the side, allowing Eddie’s assistant, who Dolly has dubbed Real Assad, to take her dish from her.
“You ever read Moby Dick, Real Assad?” She asks as the man swiftly collects Eddie’s empty goblet of blood next.
“I am here to serve-”
“-yeah, sure, whatever,” Dolly can’t help but chuckle, “I’m sorry, darlin’, but this is so weird. Where did they send you when Amir was playing your role? Is there a panic room behind the stolen Rembrandt?”
“Mon chéri ran a theater company for a hundred and fifty years, Dolly-”
“-ton chéri was in a box, pondering a premeditated neck wound, according to Harper.” Dolly tosses Harper’s diary his way before she takes another bite of food. “She wrote it. Let’s choose to believe it.”
“Unworthy in San Francisco, unworthy in Berlin,” Amir locks eyes with Dolly before he glances down at her small standing microphone, “disregard.”
Dolly hums, allowing a brief silence to encapsulate the trio as Assad leaves the room with the dirty dishes, then returns with a drink cart so he can make Dolly’s nightly martini.
“Y’know, Real Assad, I’m pretty good at my job,” She turns towards the man, who pays her no mind, “a bright young reporter with a point of view. Interviewed a fallen Catholic archbishop, four Enron vice presidents, and if they’ve got somethin’ to hide, they always start with some sort of disguise.”
She pauses for a moment.
“Not literally, not some dumb Halloween costume with gloves and contact lenses.” Dolly sneers at Amir, who places his head in one of his hands as he tilts his head at her, “They tell jokes. They’re charming. And then, at some crisis point, when I get close, it drops away, and I see a flash of the truth.”
To say that she’s pissed about being swindled and lied to, yet again, would be an understatement.
“Amir didn’t want me to do the interview-”
“-still don’t.” Amir cuts Eddie off, typing something on the tablet in front of him before Dolly continues to speak.
“But he wanted to be close to it. Right, Real Assad?” Dolly swaps her now-empty dinner plate with a martini glass that Assad has in his hands. “I mean, hey, whatever it is they’re trying to hide, I’m probably not gonna crack it, which is… y’know, who cares? It happens all the time. But I wanna ask you, as a member of the inferior species, why say, ‘Hey, vampires are real. Here’s almost all the story?’”
“Thank you, Assad.” Eddie politely dismisses his staff member, who bows before he exits the room.
“That’s why I’m comin’ after you, Real Assad,” Dolly calls out, “you I can fuckin’ break!”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Having enough of her verbal lashings, Amir packs up his things quite hastily before he leaves in a similar manner.
“So,” Dolly wastes no time in pivoting back to her interview, once she’s sure that the vampire is out of earshot, “memories seem to keep bubblin’ up for you. You keep correctin’ yourself, in ways that both contradict and match Harper’s journals.”
“I want to remember. Not for me,” Eddie’s fingers drum against the long, black table, “for her.”
“I, uh…” Dolly’s still unsure of how to approach the subject of River’s arrival in your place, even forty-eight hours after the incident, “Listen, I’m sorry about that mess-”
“-River’s right.” He whispers, barely audible over the soft whirring of Dolly’s laptop, “I haven’t proven to her that Canary would be safe here.”
“Was there anythin’ in her writin’ that would help pinpoint her exact location?” She tries to help, even when Eddie shakes his head.
“She mostly writes about the time we spent in New Orleans and Paris, as she did in her earlier letters. You’re welcome to look through it-”
“-no. I think those words were meant for your eyes only.” Dolly winces as she remembers reading one of those hidden letters that she stole from Eddie’s library, where you wrote in explicit detail about what you’d like to do with your husband when you’re reunited. “I’ve invaded that poor woman’s life enough. Maybe we could talk to-”
“-She didn’t ask for any of this. It’s fucking selfish of me to bring Canary back to Berlin, when I haven’t changed since that night in San Francisco.” Eddie wipes a few bloody tears from his eyes before Dolly pauses the recording.
“It’s gettin’ late, Eddie. We can take a break and resume tomorrow-”
“-No.” He’s staunch in his refusal. “I won’t hide from this — from the shitty things I did to her — anymore.”
~
“Daddy!”
Eddie groans, awoken by a small child jumping on his chest before she hugs him tightly.
“Ma puce,” He murmurs, rubbing sleep from his eyes as she excitedly looks at him, “it’s early. Your mother ‘n I are still tryin’ to sleep.”
“Sun’s up-”
“-but we’re not.” Eddie squabbles with his daughter, who crinkles her nose in a way that reminds him of you. “Go back to bed.”
Your little girl is your clone. A perfect copy of you minus the steel-grey eyes that she inherited from her father.
“But I don’t wanna!” She cries, whining loudly before she folds her small arms over her chest. “Mama, get Daddy up for me.”
“Leave her out of this, she needs her sleep-”
“-honey?” You arise from your side of the bed, with messy hair and scrunched-up clothes from a good night’s sleep. “Is somethin’ wrong? Did you have another nightmare?”
“No. Daddy’s bein’ stubborn ‘n he refuses to get out of bed.”
You snort with laughter, covering your face with your hands to hide your snickers as Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Sweetheart, that’s not what happened-”
“-You’re not tired?” You softly ask, waiting for your little girl to shake her head before you bring her into your arms. “Why don’t you lay with your father ‘n I, ‘n we’ll see if that helps you go back to sleep?”
“...Okay.” She hesitantly agrees, and you wait for her to make herself comfortable on your pillow before you wrap an arm around her.
Before you lay back down, you lean over to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips.
“‘M sorry that she wakes you up every mornin’. I don’t know why she does that-”
“-I told her that the only good reason to wake you up is if the world is endin’.” He says before your eyes widen.
“Eddison-!”
“-she’s sleepin’, mon ange.” Eddie softly hushes you before your daughter shakes her head, trying to hide the big yawn that escapes her lips.
“No, ‘m not.” She blinks slowly before she allows to sleep to overcome her small body.
“You work late nights at the bar, ‘n it ain’t fair that you have to get up early to take care of her as well.” You lament, a small frown appearing on your face that Eddie wipes away with a few kisses to your cheek. “You need rest, Eddie. I get plenty of it since I take naps with her-”
“-You take care of our daughter while ‘m busy with work,” Eddie tucks the three of you into bed before he places a protective arm around you and your little girl, “plus you carried her for nine months. This is the least I can do.”
“She’s five years old, my love. That was a long time ago-”
“-’feels like yesterday, though,” He brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, “I remember bein’ able to hold her with one arm. Now she’s doin’ laps around both of us.”
You giggle before you peck the top of your child’s head.
“She’s beautiful ‘n chaotic-”
“-reminds me of someone I know.” He jokes, earning him a small pinch to his forearm. “When you do shit like that, Canary, you’re only provin’ my point.”
“You love every minute of it.” You tease before Eddie brushes his lips against yours.
“I do, don’t I? I-”
“Eddie?”
The sound of your voice — your actual voice, not some dreamy version of you — pulls Eddie from the world of the unconscious.
“Sweetheart?” His hands go to your waist, pulling you close so he can savor your warmth. “You’re supposed to be sleepin’ in-”
“-there’s yellin’ goin’ on out there,” You wring your hands with an unsettled look on your face, “it’s scarin’ me.”
“Ignore it, pretty girl.” Eddie’s ready to go back to sleep, to go back to a happy little family that never gets to exist, “C’mere, you can block it out by buryin’ your head in my chest.”
“Yeah, I’d like that-”
“-there’s soldiers out there.” Harper looks spooked as she throws her bedding into a dark corner. “We should investigate.”
“Harper, baby, please.” Your begging brings her pause. “‘M so tired.”
“One more night,” Harper has guilt written all over his face, “gimme one last chance. I know what I saw last night. We can find other vampires out there-”
“-one more try,” Your hand goes to Eddie’s face before you softly kiss his lips, “then you can take us to a place where we can rest.”
The three of you change into the only spare outfits you own, packing up your things before you join the madness on the abandoned factory’s main floor. A bunch of soldiers and people holding crucifixes swarm a moaning woman in the middle of the room, and Eddie’s deeply concerned when Abel approaches him for help.
“Eddie, please, help bring some damn sanity to the room!”
You gasp in horror, recognizing the woman laying on the table in excruciating pain from the two holes in her neck that are leaking out blood.
It’s Dasha.
People are screaming profanities at her, demanding that she die because she was out setting traps at the wrong time of the night.
That wound on her neck… no animal could’ve caused that. Harper must’ve seen a vampire last night, and that creature harmed this poor woman.
“They think she’s a monster.” Abel places his hands on Dasha’s shoulders, trying to comfort her as he muscles away a few soldiers. “Eddie, or Robert, or whoever the hell you are, just help me!”
He has to be restrained by a small army of soldiers, and a gun to Abel’s face keeps him quiet as a man approaches a groaning, squirming Dasha with a wooden spear in his hand.
Eddie places a hand over your stomach to keep you behind him, and hurt settles in your eyes as you nod, understanding that you can’t interfere without putting your own head on the chopping block.
We have to go.
Harper turns away, moving in the opposite direction of the rampaging crowd as she doesn’t spare you or Eddie another glance.
You two comin’ or what?
Eddie takes your hand as a woman from the crowd approaches Dasha with a very large axe, and the intent of such a weapon is extremely obvious.
They’re gonna chop her head off-
-we should go. I don’t wanna see this.
“Eddie, for God’s sake, do something!” Abel pleads.
Another haunting voice to add to Eddie’s collection, besides your screams on the night you were turned and Harper’s shrieks of agony on the night Dirk died.
The axe is raised into the air, and you take in a shuddering breath before you pull Eddie into the safety of the crowd.
We can’t get involved in human affairs. I don’t want her to die, but we’ll die alongside her if we interfere.
I don’t like the way you’re talkin’. ‘Doesn’t sound like you, Canary.
You think I want this? Eddie, I’d love to jump in ‘n help her, but I don’t wanna die like that.
…You, of all people, should know that you have to let bad things happen to good people in order to save your own hide.
I never wanted to hurt you or Harper-
-but you did, ‘n you made us into monsters like you. We’re nothin’ but shitty reflections of your own behaviors.
The axe crashes against the table, and Eddie can only envision the way Dasha’s head rolls onto the floor as he hears a small thud once it hits the ground.
Fuck, I hate what this place has made us into.
This place? Eddie, take a look in a fuckin’ mirror. This is who you’ve always been. Why do you hesitate to turn your back on him when you turned your back on us so many goddamn times?
You lead Eddie to Harper’s side, and the three of you quietly exit the building as Harper guides the two of you into the forest. You stumble upon a drunken soldier, and it’s far too easy to set him up as bait by tearing part of his leg off before you throw him into a clearing in the middle of the forest.
Soon enough, some unholy amalgamation of flesh, clothes, and bones climbs on top of the male soldier, causing him to scream in terror as this… thing drains all of his blood.
Harper smiles proudly, and she can’t help but look at you and Eddie, who wear matching confused, concerned, and horrified expressions.
“Get behind me.” Eddie utters a small command, and you nod your head, willingly falling behind him and Harper as they approach the supposed vampire.
“That look like a baboon to you?” She’s all too cocky as she closes in on it, and it snarls when your trio threatens to lay claim on its meal. “It’s okay, he’s yours. We don’t want him.”
What the fuck am I lookin’ at?
“What the hell is that?” Eddie speaks your question into the nighttime air before Harper responds.
“It’s… a vampire!”
No vampire that Eddie’s ever encountered has had its flesh rotting off of its bones.
“No, we’re,” He vaguely gestures to you, Harper, and himself, “vampires. That’s a… fuckin’ catfish with teeth.”
The so-called vampire hisses at Eddie once again, warning the three of you to back off before it strikes.
“It doesn’t like us.” Eddie quickly looks back to see you hidden behind a large tree trunk.
Don’t move a muscle ‘til this thing is gone or in the ground, you hear me?
I don’t judge on appearances, but… shit, Eddie. That poor thing’s sick ‘cause of the blood it’s drinkin’.
Stay back.
I promise you, my love, I’m not gettin’ any closer than I have to.
“Us, ‘n you,” Harper gleefully tries to communicate with the creature, “we’re the same.”
“We’re not the same, not even close-”
You shriek when Eddie’s tackled to the ground by a different vampire, one that looks more like a human than her companion, and her hands go to Eddie’s neck as Harper grabs the soldier’s gun and fires a few shots in their direction.
“Get off of him!” She screams before her attention is directed towards the other vampire, who’s charging towards you. “No! You can’t hurt her!”
Using a leg wrapped around the older woman’s middle, Eddie flips the female vampire onto her back before he pins her arms to the ground.
“I don’t wanna hurt you-”
A godawful sound emanates from your direction, and his head snaps towards you as Harper holds two eyeballs in her hands. She drops them to the ground, quickly wiping her hands of any spare blood that may have come from the other vampire’s eye sockets, and said creature holds its face as it screeches in agony at the loss of its sight.
“Eddie!” You call out for him once the female vampire wriggles her way out of his reach so she can comfort her — as Eddie would assume from the way she gently strokes its three strands of hair — fledgling. “Mon cœur, are you alright?”
“Out of breath,” He chuckles, taking a few deep breaths in as you sit next to him and run your fingers through his hair, “haven’t fought like that in years.”
“You don’t fight like that, period.” You frown as Eddie shifts closer to you.
“Did you get hurt?”
“No, Harper got ‘em before he could reach me. ‘Scared the shit out of me, though.” You confess as his stubble brushes against your cheek. “Eddie, what are you doin’?”
“We’re never gonna meet a group of vampires who don’t want to kill us, will we?” He chuckles after he pecks your cheek, causing you to giggle in response.
“There’s gotta be one vampire out there who thinks we’re alright.”
“Alright? Sweetheart, I’ll take one who doesn’t try to strangle me.” Eddie presses a kiss to your cheek. “So far, there’s only one who’s made that list.”
“Me?” Your fingers trace small lines down his neck as you speak. “I don’t know, honey. Night’s still young.”
“Damn, not even you?” He jokes, and it feels good to fall back into your old, playful routines. “‘Can’t even catch a break from my pretty wife-”
The female vampire spits some angry Romanian out at Harper before she brings a rock above her head, striking the writhing male vampire until he stops moving completely.
“A woman vampire.” Harper’s mesmerized as the aforementioned creature of the night stumbles back into the safety of the forest. “An angry woman vampire. A mother.”
“Reminds me of someone I know-”
“-you better be talkin’ about the ‘mother’ part, Eddison.” You flick his shoulder with two fingers before you offer him a hand up. “I think we have a vampire to chase, no?”
With renewed spirit, your party tracks the female vampire as she slowly meanders through the forest. Harper leads the charge, and Eddie holds your hand, walking alongside you as you sneak glances at him, and he does the same to you.
Merde, you’re beautiful when you’re happy, wearing a soft smile that could illuminate Eddie’s path forward for the rest of his life. Maybe you’re only happy because Harper’s happy, but it’s something, and he’ll take whatever he can get from you.
Your threesome stumbles upon a small castle with impressive yet decrypt and worn-down architecture. At one time, this had been a place of great power and fear, but now it seems to be nothing but an eyesore and a poor reminder of what once was.
Eddie prays that this isn’t an omen of what’s to come.
Dead bodies are scattered through the interior of the castle, and this woman clearly doesn’t worry about discarding her kills in the same way your family does. You startle when a body shudders with the last breath of life, hiding behind your husband until it stops moving.
I don’t like this.
Now you sound like yourself — disgusted by bodies and the horrors of the world, rather than accepting of them — and Eddie’s quick to offer you a solution.
Don’t look at ‘em. Look at me, Canary. I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.
Thank you, Eddie.
He squeezes your hand as Harper wanders into a large, open dining room where that same female vampire attempts to turn a Russian soldier into one of you. The two women exchange words in Romanian, and Eddie’s able to pick up very little of it, besides a single phrase that he manages to piece together.
“We own the night.”
“Yes.” Harper answers, and she looks to you and Eddie for a similar response.
“Yes.” You both say, and you wrap your arms around Eddie’s stomach as you peek over his shoulder.
She doesn't look like her fledglings. She looks human.
‘Could’ve told you that when she lunged at me-
-I’ll translate for you ‘n Canary.
Harper shuts Eddie down, nodding along to the unnamed vampire’s words as she talks.
Long centuries, into the villages, into their hovels, drinking, drinking, drinking. They don’t want life anymore… I told her that it might be related to the blood. Tell her about the blood.
In Romanian?
Say it in English.
“The blood is bad here.” Eddie steps forward, his eyes being drawn past the woman as he looks at the large fireplace that could swallow a full-grown adult in flames if they jumped into it.
I have a bad feeling about where this is going…
Harper speaks his words in Romanian, and you follow his observations with one of your own.
“The humans carry too much sadness ‘n pain in their hearts,” You pause to give Harper time to speak to the vampire, “We feel it when we drink from ‘em. It’s hard for us to get warm, ‘n our bodies hurt. I have some aches ‘n pains, ‘n they’ve only gotten worse when I drink from these humans. …Maybe you need better blood.”
The old world female vampire throws her failed fledgling off of the table as she sings a small melody in her native tongue. The jagged hems of her grey dress drag along the ground as she approaches the large fireplace.
I’m askin’ her how many of us there are left… she told me that I killed her last out in the forest.
Harper sits next to the woman as she stares off into the distance, possessed by a memory that you and Eddie aren’t privy to.
I asked her again, ‘n she said that all of them are dead now.
She pulls up the sleeve of her jacket, and Eddie places a hand on your forearm in support as Harper cuts her arm open with her fingernail.
The old world vampire accepts Harper’s open invitation to drink, and she places a bloody finger over her lips as she tastes Harper’s blood.
My blood tastes like the cream at the top of a milk bucket, according to her… She talks of a Devil’s Road, nights of laughter and time spent together… ‘m invitin’ her to come back to the States with us.
“Home?” Your eyes light up, and you giggle happily as you peck his cheek. “Are we gonna go home, Eddie?”
New Orleans isn’t an option, for obvious reasons, but perhaps you could travel to the West Coast and enjoy vampiric life there.
She says she’ll come with us, to drink the blood and grow strong again, before she tells us her story. Then, we can tell her ours. Killin’ for the small comforts, waitin’ for her children to join us there. The wind in our hair, ‘n the blades of feet beneath our grass. …We have somebody else, Canary. Someone else we can count on.
“Stella.” With cracked lips, Stella introduces herself to Harper.
“Harper,” She repeats before she points to you, “‘n that’s my mama, Canary. The man with us is Eddie.”
Stella tilts her head, a few curly strands of hair falling in front of her misty eyes.
“We own… nothing.”
The past four years of hunting for another like the three of you go up in flames with the old world vampire when she hurls herself into the fire, shrieking as it spreads over her skin and clothing.
“Oh.” You murmur, trying to process what you’re seeing before you burst into tears.
“Fuck, Canary, Harper…” He can’t look away from Stella, even when your fingernails dig into your skin as you bury your head into his back, “‘m sorry.”
Harper says nothing, slowly standing before she brushes past you and Eddie with water in her eyes.
“Figure out where we’re goin’,” She says before she slips out of the room, “it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
~
“Eddie, we’ve received an aggressive offer for the property on the coast of…”
Amir’s words blur into the buzzing, all-consuming thrum of thoughts that are rattling around Eddie’s mind.
How could he possibly forget about choking out his own daughter? Or, going even further back, how could he forget the night of your turning, making it a much calmer, cleaner affair then it really was?
“I will torment you for the rest of your life, Eddison. You will never know a moment of restfulness from this day forward. I will haunt you, long after I leave you and Volt behind.”
“You already haunt me, Canary.”
“Not like that, mon amour. You will see me in every reflection, every book, every picture — everythin’. Everythin’ in the world will remind you of me, and it will make you fuckin’ miserable for the rest of your goddamn life.”
He wonders if you knew of the future long before it was foretold in the stars. That you’d be separated due to a harsh disagreement, and he’d be haunted by your likeness until it drew him into the sun or, a possibility that’s growing more unlikely with every passing moment, you two were reunited.
“The pages of Canary’s diaries.” Eddie murmurs as he throws on a simple black t-shirt for bed. “The ones she tore out. What happened to them?”
“I…” Amir briefly looks away from his tablet, a bit of concern resting on his features. “They’re filed away with the ones we took out of Harper’s diaries-”
“-I’d like to see them.”
“We made an agreement.” Amir casually sits up as Eddie slowly approaches the bed.
“I don’t know what else is blurred or misremembered.”
“My name is in some of those pages-”
“-I sit across from Dolly and suffer through my memories, memories that aren’t even fucking real.” Eddie sighs before he glances at Amir. “I won’t share them with her, but I need to read them again. Even if they hurt me.”
Eddie tries to relax as his head hits the pillow, but he can’t. Not when you and Harper haunt his every thought and motion.
“Eddie, may I make an observation-”
“-I’ve lost control of the interview.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s skilled at winding me up. Dolly digs through my mind until she finds what she’s looking for.”
“She wants you in pieces for the privilege of putting them back together as she sees fit.” Amir sets his tablet aside before he intertwines his fingers on his lap.
“It’s her job-”
“-It’s her drug.” Amir argues back. “She’s reveling in it. We can get her back on a flight to the States-”
“-No. Dolly's our way to River, and River, in some way, will lead us to Canary,” Eddie drums his fingers against the mattress, “we’re close. I know it.”
I’ll find you through your letters, sweetheart. I won’t let the pain that we shared drive a wedge between us anymore.
“...I’ll have Assad assemble the pages.” Amir looks off to the distant, an undistinguishable emotion in his eyes, before he presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips.
With a snap of his fingers, the lights in the room dim. There’s a brief silence settled between the pair, as large as the space between them in bed, before Amir speaks once again.
“There’s a way we can take back control of the interview. We will have her saying what comes next, in no time.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“We do it together,” Amir smiles, “like everything we’ve done for the past seventy years.”
~
Dolly begins to set up her recording equipment for the day, whistling a small tune under her breath as she adjusts her microphone so it can capture everyone’s voice properly, before she’s interrupted by the sound of two sets of footsteps.
Look who’s fashionably late!
Her head snaps towards the entrance of the living room, where Eddie and Amir walk into the room holding hands.
…Okay. These two were previously sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table during their last two sessions, and now Eddie happily throws an arm around Amir’s shoulder as they sit on the couch perpendicular to Dolly. This sort of lovey-dovey behavior certainly wasn’t typical of Eddie, unless it was pointed towards you.
Oh, this is real fucking cute.
This is an act, obviously. A farce meant to deceive and dissuade Dolly from digging through the bullshit that they both shove her way.
“Good mornin’, I…” She has a snarky comment sitting on her tongue, but she chooses to let this bit play out for a while, “So, fellas, what’s up?”
“You have our attention.” Eddie says with a confidence that she hasn’t felt from him since their first session.
“Yeah?” Dolly’s eyebrows furrow as Amir glances at her.
“Yeah.”
“On the record?” She asks.
Amir simply nods before Eddie squeezes his shoulder in support.
Have I lost my goddamn mind? What is happening?
“Y’know what? Fuck it.” Dolly murmurs under her breath before she shrugs her shoulders and starts the recording, “Umm… Session fifteen with the vampire Eddie Watts and the vampire Amir.”
Dolly grabs a program for the Theatre de Vampires and tosses it on the coffee table, right in front of the vampire lovers.
“You took your girls west.” She points at the French lettering that advertises the headlining show to its readers.
“Harper was broken. She had left a part of herself in Romania.” Eddie explains. “Canary was starting to fall back into bad habits since Harper was struggling, so I knew I had to steer them away from that place. …I chose a city that spoke to Canary’s heart when we were in New Orleans.”
Amir places a tender hand on Eddie’s knees.
“Members of my coven sensed-”
“-uh, uh, uh,” Dolly tuts before she raises a finger to shush Amir, “we’ll get to you.”
A bit of anger flashes in his eyes before he mellows out, gesturing for Eddie to continue.
“We traveled into Paris by a covered caravan, on the tails of a war that had just ended. The girls had not spoken to me in weeks, and they were attached to the hip, so it was impossible to get one of them alone,” Eddie chuckles lightly, shaking his head, “until the night we traveled into the city.”
~
It’s been a long four years for you. Five, if you count all of the nonsense that’s happened in New Orleans with Volt and the New Year’s Eve gala and the unending hunger that made your mind question if you remembered that night as well as your companions did.
Tired. You’re so goddamn tired of running from bombs and people who believe that you, Eddie, and Harper are nothing more than monsters.
All you wanted was a moment of rest and respite. One night where it feels like everything’s going to be fine. Eddie told you that your life was going to get better when Volt was gone, but that improvement has yet to be seen. You traded a domineering, overbearing hand for more
death than words could describe — how was that an improvement?
You don’t know where Eddie’s taking you and a slumbering Harper, who softly snores as she rests her head on your shoulder, but you can only hope that it has a better outcome than Romania. You can’t go through that shit again, not without it permanently damaging your psyche.
Eddie’s an opportunist, and you know he’s been looking for a way into your heart since that night at Stella’s castle. You both had thought that there was space carved for him once more, when he managed to pull you from the unending, merciless tides of suffering that you found yourself drowning in, but then that hole in your heart closed when Stella killed herself.
Journaling would’ve helped you process your feelings, but it felt in poor taste to bitch and moan about your own miniscule problems while you, your husband, and your daughter were marching past mountains of corpses every night.
So, you shoved it all deep inside of you. You placed all of that pain into your heart, hoping that it wouldn’t make you into the mortal abominations that reign such terror over the Earth, but you felt yourself starting to not care. You got used to the pain, the agony, the hunger that you felt each and every night.
“Ma belle, you must drain one to survive, two to feel less hungry than most other days, and three to be completely yourself.”
And, as if your life couldn’t get any more terrible, you started to see Volt around every corner. He was hiding in the nooks and crannies of your mind until he had the perfect opportunity to jump out at you.
He wasn’t here — Eddie reassured you, on many occasions, that Volt was dead — so this must be some fucked-up form of grief for a man that you had many mixed feelings towards. You didn’t want to see him, to be reminded that you are so fundamentally different from your companions for a reason that’s completely out of your control, but he’s in your mind, and you have to deal with his presence when he happens to show up.
Even worse, you can feel Volt in Eddie’s mind, too. You don’t say anything, especially when his version of Volt is tainted with guilt, anger, and resentment that you don’t want to address at the present moment, but it’s oddly comforting to know you’re not alone in your suffering. Eddie can’t help you deal with the unfortunate symptoms of being an undead woman with child, or help you conquer the doubts in your mind when it comes to your monstrous appearance, but he can, at least, understand some of the shared trauma that's been inflicted on your little family.
“I wanna say somethin’ to you.” Eddie speaks in a low tone, so as to not wake Harper, as the caravan travels through the bumpy, uneven streets of Paris. “I don’t need to hear anythin’ back. I just need you to hear me.”
You look away, maintaining the silence you’ve kept with Eddie after your hopes for a better future went up in flames with the old world vampire. You share a coffin and a heart with your husband, but there’s something in the way. Something that’s either within you, or it’s a past transgression of his that your mind has prevented you from seeing in full detail besides the pain he caused your poor, barely-stitched-together heart. You want to trust him, to love him fully, but you need to move past that unknown hurdle together.
Hopefully I figure it out soon, ‘cause I hate feelin’ like this towards Eddie.
Perhaps his words might help you do so.
Eddie’s knees knock against yours as he holds his hand out to you, and you accept the offer hesitantly, intertwining your fingers with his.
“Hard words and soft words,” Eddie stares right through you, slicing through your skin and bones until he hits the most sensitive parts of you, “The hard first. Our life is shit. It’s been shit. It is shit. It’s gonna be shit again, ‘n I can’t control that, even though I’d like to. Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself, sweetheart.”
He’s right. Everything’s been fucking awful since the day you were turned, and that shitstorm has continued on for twenty-four years and counting. ‘Woe-is-me’ isn’t the way out of this. You have to keep pushing forward. Fight the abyss that your mind threatens to collapse into, and try to find yourself through the grief and pain that’s been tying you down for years.
“No one’s watchin’ us. No one cares. A shit life beats no life.” Eddie squeezes your hand, and you feel ashamed at the amount of times that you’ve threatened to end your own life because of the misery that you felt you’d never escape from.
But you did escape from it, time and time again. You found a new normal — a new happiness that wasn’t the same, but it was still yours. Who says you can’t do that again? One last trick up your sleeve before the curtain’s called on the story of your life. The final act, the epilogue of the film of your life. The part where you get to actually fucking live.
“But where we’re goin’ now, we can’t be runnin’ away again.” Eddie’s so gentle with you, placing his other hand on top of yours as he leans towards you. “‘Doesn’t mean we forget what we saw. I wouldn’t expect you to do that, Canary. We saw shit that we can’t unsee. Terrible things that I don’t wanna think about anymore. You saw what Stella did in front of us. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want that to feel like your only option, ‘cause it’s not.”
He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath in before he softly exhales.
“If I see you goin’ that way, ‘m gonna pull you back. I don’t need that from you. As long as I walk the Earth, I’ll never taste the fire. That’s a promise, mon ange.”
Your eyes dart around before they meet his, and Eddie briefly smiles at you as his thumbs rub against the back of your hands.
“We’ll find other vampires like us. And if it ain’t here, ‘cause life is shit, or I fuck it up again, we’ll go to the next place,” His gaze flickers to Harper before he looks into your soul once more, “She's right, sweetheart. You can’t be the only good vampire in this world.”
Eddie brings your hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on each and every one of your fingers before he speaks to you.
“Soft words,” He murmurs, not looking away from you for one moment, “If you were the last vampire on Earth, it would be enough. You will always be enough for me. There’s not another goddamn person I’d do this with then you, okay? There is no me without you, Canary.”
He places your palm against his face, and a small, bloody tear runs down his cheek when your thumb strokes his skin.
“I’ve done a lot of dumb shit, ‘n made plenty of choices that I’ve regretted,” Eddie says, “You won’t ever be one of them. I would choose you, again ‘n again, even if this is where we end up after everythin’ is said ‘n done. Knowin’ you ‘n lovin’ you has been the privilege of a fuckin’ lifetime. …I love you, mon ange. I know I tell you every mornin’ ‘n every night, but I can’t say it as often as I’d like to. If I did, it’d be the only thing I’d say to you.”
I forgive you, Eddie. Whatever you did to make me feel this way, it’s wiped from the slate of my mind. We can begin again, for the very last time.
You feel like you’re going to throw up. Not from the blood or your baby, but from the yearning that you feel for the man who’s sitting across from you. There’s so much between the two of you, and you can’t imagine being in this position with anyone else.
There’s no Eddie without Canary, and no Canary without Eddie. A singular unit, an undividable atom, a thing that can be tried and tested but never truly broken.
“It’s always gonna be me ‘n you, pretty girl. Us against the world.” His shoulders slump when you wipe the tears from his face with your fingers. “You ‘n me.”
“Do you believe him?” A phantom of Volt, with his neck cut open, appears next to Harper. “What will make this apology different from the others, I wonder?”
This will be his last.
“Or what? What consequences await a man who’s never truly had to face a reckoning for his-”
“-okay.” A simple word from your lips pushes Volt out of your mind.
“Okay,” Eddie mumbles, “We’re gonna be okay.”
At that very moment, the caravan comes to a halt, and you gently shake Harper to rouse her from her slumber before you stand toe-to-toe with Eddie. You kiss him, feeling warmth and tender affection settle in your heart as his free hand comes to the small of your back.
It’s not electrifying, or sexy, or needy, or vaguely romantic. It is, however, some form of affection that is yours. A gift to your husband for taking care of you, even when you wished he would leave you to burn in the sun and carry on without you.
“We’re gonna be okay.” You repeat his words against his lips after Eddie steals another kiss from you. “I love you.”
With Eddie’s assistance, you climb out of the vehicle as Harper gathers your few remaining possessions — your diaries, her diaries, and a draft of a novel that you haven’t thought about in years — in her arms. You used to have more, but as you drifted further from your docking point, you shed more and more of your personal effects until you only had parts of yourself to give to the wasteland. It greedily consumed those, too.
Things, however, don’t seem to matter when the three of you are dumped into the bustling streets of Paris. There’s plenty to explore as there are brightly lit shops and dark alleyways that seem to beckon to you from every possible direction.
In your heart, you feel something different. This will be different. Paris won’t be like New Orleans, where your family suffered so much at the hands of Volt. You’ll make sure of it.
“Woah.” Harper’s eyes are wide-open as she spins in a circle, admiring everything she can see while she stands on her tippy-toes.
Eddie’s similarly star-strucking, gazing at every object that moves in his peripheral vision before his gaze lands on la prunelle de ses yeux — the apple of his eye — you.
You recover from your wonder first, looping your arm through Eddie’s arm, then Harper’s before you lead the charge through the Parisian streets for your next great adventure.
It’s been a while since I dragged these two around. I missed seeing both of them smile at me as I told ‘em what to do.
“C’mon, you two,” You feel like you’re dragging two sacks of potatoes behind you as your companions tilt their heads at you in unison, refusing to move until you give them permission to do so, “Paris ain’t gonna explore itself!”