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Aug 16

torn on my teeth (dm week: day 1)

Daniel’s head is a metre from his body, and his eyes are closed. His left arm is by the door, and his skin is the colour of clouded sky, grey as ash or smoke- Armand takes a breath. Daniel is not dead, he decides. It is as easy as that.

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Daniel’s skin tears easily beneath Armand’s teeth. Oh, it is so fragile, so pliant. Strips of it come away as Armand bites into his neck. A chunk of it gets stuck between his teeth, and he runs his tongue over his fang, and unlodges it.

Once that piece of skin is on Armand’s tongue, he swallows it. This is a grotesque devouring, Armand thinks, but he does not stop drinking. He cannot.

From the jagged wound on Daniel’s neck, hot blood spills over Armand’s lips; it stains his chin, and coats his cheeks, until his face feels like it’s more blood than skin. Daniel’s blood drips down his neck, and Armand feels it dampen his collar, and then slip beneath the fabric of his shirt. As it touches the skin of Armand’s chest, it is warm and delicate as a caress. Messy, Armand thinks, it is all so messy. He is usually restrained, and yet in this moment his skin is sticky and his clothes are wet with the blood.

As he drinks, Armand thinks of a verse he was forced to memorise, upon his abduction from Venice. Hast thou found honey? Eat as much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be filled therewith, and vomit it. Have your fill, his captors told him. You are Satan’s fool, bring the meat to your children, have your fill, until you are sick with it

Yes, Armand thinks, sliding his bloodied hand through Daniel’s hair, he will have his fill, for this is the sweetest honey of all, the most loathsome and most delicious. He had forgotten how divine Daniel tasted. More than that, he had forgotten what it was like to sin, and with such abandon too. It has been centuries since he was violent like this.

Sense, Armand thinks, he must find his sense. But Daniel is still alive, isn’t he? He’s breathing faintly, and his skin is not yet pale, and that is all of the sense Armand needs.

His eyes flutter shut, and he is soothed by the hum of the plane, and Daniel’s hands clinging to his shirt. To push him back? To pull him in? Armand is unsure. Either way Daniel clutches him, and it does not matter why. It is a touch.

Stillness, then. Quiet settles around them, as Armand surrenders to his hunger. He drinks and he drinks… but why is he not full? Why is he not satisfied?

Daniel’s mind opens to him, and Armand sees flashes of his life, but these memories are nothing Armand hasn’t already seen. Wherever Daniel went, Armand was. Whatever he remembers of his life, Armand remembers too.

Ah, but there is still intimacy in it- and there are some things Armand doesn’t remember, those first two decades of Daniel’s youth he was not witness to. Daniel’s youth. His parents, two shadows in the kitchen; Daniel does not think of them often, only remembers the gruff sound of his father’s voice, the quiet hum of his mother’s…

Armand runs a thumb over Daniel’s hairline. Sweet boy, he thinks. His hunger sharpens. He wishes he could consume Daniel’s mind, too, and the intricate workings of his brain. He would bite into his memories, his thoughts- feast upon his heart-

Warm with the blood, aching with it, Armand rocks a little on the floor of the plane. Daniel is making lovely sounds. Armand does not stop. Daniel is softening, leaning against him, unable to hold his body up. Armand does not stop. Daniel’s breath is lighter, his skin is cooler. Armand does not stop. Not enough, not enough, he is almost full, he is nearly whole again, Daniel has almost cured of him of this strange affliction he has, which is a chronic emptiness. It is a terminal disease, he thinks, this nothingness. Daniel is healing him. Now, Armand can hunger. He can feast. He can-

Ah - he stops himself. He took too much. The blood was turning. Armand could feel it its taste becoming bitter. Beneath his teeth, Daniel was almost-

But the scent of death does not rise in the air. Armand can still hear Daniel’s heartbeat, faint but steady. A shock of relief makes him feel nauseous. He cannot let Daniel die, he would never let him die-

Daniel was brought to the brink of death, though, Armand thinks. He is on the verge now, teetering between this world and the next. Armand feels terrified of Daniel, of his heart, of himself. For a moment, he thinks again, Daniel was almost-

But he is not, Armand reminds himself, as he cuts open his wrist with his fingernail, and presses it gently to Daniel’s pale mouth. He is alive, and his lips are parting around the wound on Armand’s wrist, and he is coming back to the land of the living.

And yet, Armand thinks, he has been murdered.

It was almost-

Too late.

What have I done? Armand thinks, as Daniel swallows him down, And what did I almost do? And what will I do next?

As Armand leans down in the bowling alley, looking down at Daniel’s disembodied head, he remembers that moment on the plane. He can envision Daniel’s ashen skin, and the sound of his laboured breathing, and he can remember being stricken with the realisation Daniel was almost gone. Down into Hell, his soul would go, never to return. It was somewhere that Armand could not yet follow him.

Here he is now. Daniel’s head is a metre from his body, and his eyes are closed, and his left arm is by the door. His skin is the colour of clouded sky, grey as ash or smoke-

Armand takes a breath.

Daniel is not dead, he decides. It is as easy as that. Yes, he is motionless, and when Armand cups his cheek in his hand he does not stir, but no matter. He is not dead.

Doctor Fareed, Armand calls telepathically. His voice does not waver. He is calm, he is steady. I require your assistance.

While he waits, Armand rubs his thumb over Daniel’s cheek, a warm, soothing touch. He ignores that Daniel’s skin is cool under his thumb.

“Rest.” Armand murmurs. “But not for long.”

It won’t be long at all, he decides, until Daniel wakes. He must. It does not matter that Armand cannot hear his heartbeat, or that Daniel’s chest does not rise and fall with a breath. It does not matter, either, that before he entered the bowling alley he felt the exact moment Daniel died. It was as if part of his soul was missing, as if his heart had been torn apart, pieces of it lost now without him. He had been so angry, when he felt it. The wrath and fury of God Himself-

But what is life, anyway? What is death? If Armand can be a God of death then perhaps, too, he can command the living. Out there in the darkness, Daniel’s soul patiently awaits his instructions. It does not belong to Hell, or the Devil. It belongs only to him.

Armand sits cross-legged in the aisle of the bowling alley, and gently places Daniel’s head on his lap. He murmurs a song, holding tightly onto the last shred of his sanity. The artificial lighting feels too bright, and the stillness of the bowling alley too quiet, but he waits patiently. There is no need to rush, he thinks. All is well.

“Doctor.” Armand greets calmly, tilting his head over his shoulder to acknowledge Fareed’s sudden presence. “Thank you for coming.”

He feels Fareed’s disgust and fear as he takes in the state of the bowling alley. Fareed’s heartbeat is a loud and frantic sound, and Armand despises it, because it is not Daniel’s.

“What are you waiting for?” Armand asks. “Examine the patient.”

“The patient.” Fareed says. He steadies his voice, and tries to sound calm, but Armand can tell he wants nothing more than to run. “Is dead.”

Armand slowly turns his head to meet Fareed’s gaze.

“A minor detail.” Armand says, low and quiet, and Fareed swallows. “What do you suggest as the course of treatment, doctor?”

“He is dead.” Fareed says again, “It’s absolute. You know that. There is no treatment-“

“I have his body.” Armand says. “I can obtain his soul. How do we combine the two?”

“We can’t-“

“It is not a matter of can or cannot.” Armand bites. “We will.”

“His body has died.” Fareed says. “Look at his skin. His unseeing eyes. You know when a vampire is dead, Armand.”

“An ailment like any other.” Armand says. “There will be way to restore him, I’m sure.”

“Mr. Molloy was a fledgling.” Fareed reminds him. “Three years old, yes? Even if we gave him the most ancient blood, there is no empirical evidence he could be restored, especially after what seems to be- at least twenty minutes, since decapitation?”

“Enough!” Armand slams a hand on the floor of the bowling alley. “I know you, Doctor Fareed. You would usually be more than willing to perform such a fascinating experiment. You only hesitate because I am the one asking you-“

“You have an attachment to the patient,” Fareed says gently, “I cannot trust that you will abide by our contract-“

“Then I will do it myself.” Armand cuts in coolly.

Freed stares at him for a moment. Then he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He says eventually. “Truly.”

“There is no loss.” Armand hisses.

Even if there is, he thinks, it does not matter, for Armand will crawl into Hell anyway, and he will be with Daniel there. The body is just a vessel. Reality will contort to his will. It must.

“Will you help me or not?” Armand asks. “Answer. Quickly.”

Fareed sighs.

“…I will assist.” He says.

“Then gather your tools.” Armand says, relieved, “And we shall begin.”

Fareed leaves quickly, and Armand rises to his feet with Daniel’s head in his arms. Strange, he thinks, to feel so alone again, when for the past few months-

There is no time to dwell, he thinks, no need to worry. Death is just another obstacle, and Armand has overcome so many.

In the cool, silent surgical room, Armand watches Fareed's stitches thread Daniel’s head to his neck.

He does not enjoy how Daniel looks like a piece of meat laid upon the surgical table. At times, Armand has to look away, and occupies himself with Fareed’s notes instead, refusing to acknowledge the smell of blood in the air, or the growing scent of death. It is repulsive, to a vampire. Armand has to swallow down his nausea. No matter, he thinks, all of this is temporary, so do not imagine Daniel’s decaying body, moulding, caving in on itself, eyes caved in-

Armand distracts himself by observing Fareed. He has never seen the doctor so unsettled. He is trembling as he works, and Armand fears he will make a mistake, and thus condemn Daniel to Hell with his shaking hands.

Still, Armand can understand his fear. Mortals who were in the middle of a surgical procedure are lying motionless around them on the floor. The door is bolted shut. Necessary, Armand thinks, but no less horrifying for the doctor, who is thinking about his own death as he tugs at the skin.

“The Talamasca,” Armand says. He sits down in a chair, and flicks through Fareed’s notebook absently, “They have been experimenting with swapping bodies, yes? Moving souls between vessels?”

“Living vessels.” Fareed says. “And their work is in its infancy-”

“The process should be more or less the same.” Armand cuts in.

“No,” Fareed says. “It is not.”

“Raglan James avoided death, yes, with his, ah, switch?” Armand smiles humourlessly at the notebook in his hand. “Didn’t he?”

“That is classified information.” Fareed says, “And I did not tell you this. But hypothetically, if it was true, then he did it to escape death.”

“Details.” Armand hums. “I will iron them out later.”

Fareed pauses. He puts down his tools, and turns to Armand. Armand raises his eyebrows.

“What do you intend to do,” Fareed says, “Once I have put Mr. Molloy back together?”

“I will need your assistance,” Armand says.

“I would advise-”

“Your advice is unnecessary.” Armand waves a hand. “Ah, but there is something else I need. I will be obtaining a healthy body for Daniel, in case the process goes wrong.”

“Obtaining how?”

“The facial recognition software on my iPad is accurate enough. I am sure I can find a body that looks like his. Once I have it, I will need you to keep that body in good health.” Armand says. “Hopefully it is not necessary.”

“Okay.” Fareed says. “But you do realise there is no science in what you are trying to achieve?”

“Five centuries.” Armand says. “Have shown me that science is ever changing. So much we haven’t discovered yet, wouldn’t you agree, doctor?”

“I understand that.” Fareed says. He hesitates, again, conflicted now. Armand senses his curiousity, and it makes him smile, despite everything. “…From what I can gather, you’re going to try and put Mr. Molloy’s soul back into either his own body, or another living body, yes?”

“Yes.” Armand says, plainly, as if it is the simplest thing in the world.

Fareed stares at him, for a moment.

“Could I watch?” He asks, eventually, and Armand can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, alright. In fact you can do more than watch - your assistance during the resurrection would be most helpful.” He says. “You frighten me, sometimes, Doctor.”

“Likewise.” Fareed mutters, and turns back to the cadaver- Daniel’s body, Armand reminds himself sternly.

His eyes narrow when Fareed once more fumbles a stitch. The air cools, just a little, and Fareed’s jaw clenches as he senses Armand’s mood turn.

“Do you follow any sort of religious doctrine, Doctor?” Armand asks. He chances a glance at Daniel’s face, and feels a wave of sorrow so strong that his eyes burn.

Fareed hums.

“Not exactly.” He says, “Science does not give us a definitive answer, yet. There are arguments for either side.”

“Regardless of your beliefs,” Armand says. “One thing is certain.”

“Which is?”

“Daniel is in Hell right now.” Armand murmurs. “Iblīs has him, I am sure. So please, do your best work, or you will join him there.”

Fareed turns quickly back to Daniel’s body, and Armand hums to himself, pleased. He runs his fingers over Fareed’s handwriting. The memory of Louis’ disembodied head on the butcher’s table seems far away now. The plane feels as if it were… centuries ago. All there is now is the quiet surgical room, and Daniel’s body on the table, waiting for his soul to return. It will not be long, beloved. Armand thinks. He hopes Daniel can hear him, in Hell, and see how hard he is fighting to bring him to life.

“One more thing,” Fareed says, “Are you sure Daniel wants to be resurrected?”

Armand bursts out into laughter, at this.

“Doctor,” He says, shaking his head. “You spent a lot of time with Daniel, on that intrepid tour bus. I know you have grown…. fond of him. Do you not know him well enough?”

Fareed’s lips twitch. Yes, Armand thinks, yes.

“The boy,” Armand says warmly, “Is addicted to living, in all of its grotesque misery. He will thank me, Doctor. Do not concern yourself with issues of morality. Daniel definitely wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough.” Fareed says, and continues to piece together Daniel, limb by limb, skin fused to skin, until he is a stitched up, tattered, broken doll. Armand’s very own Frankenstein.

Daniel’s New York apartment has been… altered.

At the centre of the room, two chairs sit side by side in front of a circle of salt. Armand kneels behind one of them, and ties the knot around Raglan James’ wrists more firmly, his fingers delicate as they twirl around the rope and pull it tight. Raglan, his eyes wide and blank, does not stir. Armand rises, and turns to the other chair.

“You cannot do this.” The witch Merrick is biting at him, her eyes narrowed, her body fraught with tension. Armand tilts his head, and considers her silently. He is an artful predator. “First, those foolish men, forcing their daughter out of purgatory for their own satisfaction- and now you-”

“Cease your lecture.” Armand waves a hand in her direction, dismissive and unconcerned by her warning. Merrick glares at him, and Armand cannot help but feel respect for her. She is determined, at the very least, and exceptional at blocking her thoughts. “It will be done. You cannot convince me otherwise.”

He meets Fareed’s gaze across the room, and winks. Fareed nods back at him, and checks the vital of the old man that’s lying unconscious on the sofa. He is Daniel’s double, almost. Armand refuses to look at him. It is uncanny. Too similar, but not enough. He turns to Daniel’s real body, though it is no easier to look at.

Armand lay him in the middle of the circle, on his back, which is his preferred sleeping position. Armand knows this, just as he knows that he lied slightly to Fareed. Daniel will be glad to be alive, yes, but he will also be angry. Very angry. At Armand. At life. At the fact he was killed a mere three years into his new vampire life. His pride will be wounded, and surely Hell’s torture will have broken him even more than he already was.

So Armand has (tenderly, of course, gently, with the upmost love) bound his wrists and ankles too. Just to ensure the process goes smoothly, of course. He will release him upon his resurrection, if all goes well. But for now, the most important thing is that Daniel lives. Anger, hatred- Armand can deal with those. He has been subjected to them often enough. Better Daniel is cruel, than dead. If it means he is no longer Armand’s companion, so be it. As long as he lives, Armand thinks, as long as he is here on this Earth again.

Armand smiles, slightly, at Daniel’s frozen corpse, which has begun to thaw, just in time for the seance-

And then he turns his gaze to Raglan. He kneels in front of him, and touches his face lightly, cupping it in the palm of his hand.

“Wake.” He murmurs. Raglan’s eyes become clear, and he struggles against his ropes- “Settle.”

Raglan is still again. His eyes are wide with fear, and fury, and intrigue, too.

“Speak.” Armand says.

“The vampire Armand.” Raglan says. His throat is hoarse, bruised from the grip of Armand’s hand earlier that day. “I was wondering when you’d have your revenge for Dubai.”

Armand hums. He tilts his head, enjoying the way Raglan trembles.

“This is not retribution.” He says gently. “In fact, I ought to thank you, Raglan James. You gave me Daniel. Destroying my relationship with Louis was the catalyst for something wonderful.”

“Oh, of course.” Raglan says, “It always comes down to you and Daniel Molloy, doesn’t it?”

He gives Armand a knowing look.

“You haven’t told him, yet, have you?” Raglan says, “About the other memories? The things he has forgotten? Oh, but the Talamasca have the photographs, we have so much evidence for those twelve years you took him as your lover- Say the word and we will drop them into his laptop, no problem at all-”

Armand hisses. Pain blooms in his chest, and makes him nauseous.

“Enough.” He says, low and quiet, and Raglan shivers. “Be mindful how you speak. I am willing to give you mercy for Dubai, but for the bowling alley, I will destroy you.””

“Our rules of engagement-”

“Poor, poor Alex.” Armand hums. “Used and discarded, over and over again. Oh, you delight in finding loop holes, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, then perhaps we should address the elephant in the room, while we are on the topic of bowling alleys-” Raglan coughs, blood spilling over his lips, “Is that Daniel Molloy’s corpse I see in front of me? In that salt circle?”

The word corpse casts a shadow over Armand’s face. Sorrow again, painful, never ending sorrow. It will ease, Armand thinks, it will not be long.

“It is.” Armand murmurs.

“What do you intend to do with it?” Raglan says, “With myself present, and the witch, and your pet doctor, I’m assuming-”

“Whatever you are assuming is correct.” Armand says. He stares at Raglan, searches his mind, but here is another mortal with strong barriers to their thoughts. “How do you do it, Raglan James?”

“What are we talking about, exactly?” Raglan says. Playing dumb, of course. Armand sighs.

“The more coy you are, the slower your death will be-”

“You’re asking about switching bodies, yes?” Raglan says, quickly. “It’s easy enough. But it requires psychic abilities, and two living bodies with souls housed inside. What you are proposing has never been attempted.”

“Until now.” Armand corrects, and then smiles. “How extraordinary that we get to witness it, yes?”

“It will not work.” Merrick cuts in, “And if it does, strange and unworldly things will happen-”

Armand’s head snaps towards her.

“Silence.” He hisses, but she resists him, her eyes sparking with rage.

“And he will suffer.” Merrick says, “And he will despise you for dragging his soul back to Earth, and you will not have him then, anyway.”

Armand rises, and looks down at her, his eyes dark now, his body thrumming with anger.

“I will say it only once more,” Armand says, “Silence.”

“You are desperate not to be alone.” Merrick says, her eyes glinting, knowing, “Centuries old, yet terrified of death. Still a child, yes, poor boy- Why not join him down there, instead? I am sure you would be much happier, child of Satan-”

Armand hisses, but he does not strike her. He moves quickly to the other side of the room instead, standing on the other side of the salt circle and staring down at Daniel’s body. He must not act impulsively. It is imperative that everything goes smoothly.

“Doctor,” Armand says calmly. He looks up, and Fareed meets his eyes. “All is present and correct?”

“We can proceed.” Fareed says.

“Very well.” Armand says. He walks around the circle of salt, laying items inside as he does so. Pieces of Daniel’s life that Armand took for himself, over the last 52 years. Newspaper clippings. A jacket he left in a hotel. Locks of hair, his memoir. A locket that holds a vial, inscribed with an A.

Merrick stares as he places the vial on the ground.

“You are blinded by love,” She says quietly, more gentle now, “It will destroy you.”

“Very well.” Armand says, and meets her gaze.

She shakes her head.

“And so you condemn us all.” She says. “If you achieve this, you will wreck havoc upon this mortal plane, Armand. Do you know that? The spirit world, once it sees a soul has been restored to its body, will revolt. Chaos. They will try to rise into this plane, and take over- so many hungry, desperate souls, wanting to live again-”

“That does not matter to me.”

“You’ve been fighting against The Great Conversion,” Raglan cuts in, surprised, “But you would let the world be destroyed by spirits, rather than your own kind?”

“I do not care.” Armand says. He suddenly feels like a boy, and turns away from them all. He cannot breathe. His eyes sting, and he closes them, tries to control himself. “Nothing matters, now.”

“Still a child.” Merrick says. “I can see you in your homeland, and in Venice, and in Paris, and in Dubai, and now here, in New York. A child still. Burn it down, build it up again. Your history is covered in ash.”

Armand fights back his tears. Is this what he is cursed to be? Louis said it too, he thinks. Right now he is a child trying to fix a broken toy. A boy trying to bend reality to his will.

So be it, Armand thinks. Daniel will live. Even if it destroys the fabric of reality, Daniel will live.

The gravity of the situation begins to dawn on Armand. He has been in denial, in the days since Daniel died, and he has been fooling himself that this will be easy. But it doesn’t matter. Soon all of it will be over, and in whatever form, Daniel will be here again. Sniping at him, narrowing his eyes, close to him, choosing him.

Yes, yes. It will all be over soon enough.

“Perhaps.” Armand agrees. “But it will be done. Would you begin, please, Merrick?”

“On your soul so be it.” Merrick says, and Armand smiles, for his soul is empty, an endless chasm of nothingness.

So begins the ritual. Armand does not listen to it, just paces around the circle. His heart begins to pound furiously. Daniel’s spirit will rise, so soon, and it will come- He keeps his eyes fixed on Merrick’s face.

Then- a glimmer of Daniel, there in her eyes-

“What the fuck-” Daniel says, through her mouth.

And Armand laughs, and laughs, for Daniel is returning to him, Armand can see his outline in the middle of the circle. The leather jacket Armand left beside his body rises into the air, and Daniel’s frame fills it.

Armand’s laughs dies down into a pleased smile. As Daniel shrugs the jacket onto his shoulders, he is every version of himself at once. A young man in San Francisco, an old man in Dubai, and a vampire in New York.

“Hello, Daniel.” Armand says, warmly.

Daniel turns around slowly in the circle. At last, the fragmented images of him settle into one - and he is the Daniel Molloy who wore this jacket, himself as he was in 1983. Young again, not yet greying. Two years before Armand erased his memory of their years together-

Armand swallows. He suddenly can’t look at the boy in the circle.

“Hello?” He asks in his youthful voice. “What’s going on? Everything’s- What the fuck-”

“It’s alright.” Armand says gently. “It’s alright, Daniel.”

“What the fuck?” Daniel says again. “Where am I? What is this?”

Armand looks up. He steps closer to the circle, softened by Daniel’s panic.

“All is well.” Armand says gently. “You are in your apartment in New York. It is me, Daniel. I have brought you back.”

Daniel looks around himself again. As he does, his phantom foot hits-

He looks down, and shouts out, backing up against the edge of the salt circle. But of course, he can’t escape it, and he hits the invisible barrier that prevents him from stepping outside of the circle.

“That’s my fucking body, oh my god-”

“Yes.” Armand says. He can’t stop looking at Daniel, now that he has let himself. Here, young again, as he was when they were-

Daniel is here. Alive. Here. At last. Speaking to him, looking at him, here-

“I’m dead.” Daniel says. He grabs at his phantom body, clutching at the jacket on his shoulders, “Oh, shit, and I was in- Fuck- Hell, right? Oh my god-”

“Ah.” Armand says, his lips twitching, “Are you surprised?”

Daniel’s face contorts.

“Pain-”

“Over now.” Armand cuts in quickly. “No more.”

“Fuck.” Daniel says. “It hurts.”

“No longer.” Armand says firmly. “You are here, Daniel, I will not allow anymore pain to come to you.”

Daniel shakes his head. He crouches down, staring at his dead body with suddenly blank eyes, and he appears terrified, trembling violently. Armand wants to go to him, to hold him, but it is too early. His spirit is too fragile, he needs time to process what’s happening.

“He has not been dead long.” Merrick says. “He will be confused, Armand, and his mind may break under the-”

“He will be fine.” Armand dismisses her. He crouches down on the other side of the circle, and holds out his hand to beckon Daniel, as if he is a scared dog. “Daniel. Hush. Peace. This is temporary.”

“Temporary?” Daniel laughs, suddenly, and Armand is pleased, for the coldness of that laugh proves Daniel is coming back to himself. “I’m fucking dead, this is my corpse-”

“Yes.” Armand says, “But not for long. I swear, Daniel, everything will be okay. I swear it.”

Daniel pauses. He takes a breath, as if he still has a body, and lungs- and he meets Armand’s eyes. He settles, a little, as he holds his gaze. Armand smiles.

“Better.” Armand says gently. “Good. Very good. Well done, Daniel. Calm yourself. You just need time. Process what has happened to you. And then I will explain what is going to happen next.”

“You.” Daniel says, quietly now. He touches the leather jacket that he’s wearing, brushes his hands over his own shoulders. “Armand. Armand.”

“Yes, Daniel, I am here.” Armand says. He tilts his head, his smile warming, his eyes softening. “I am here now. Shh. It’s alright.”

“Armand.” Daniel says again. “What happened?”

“The bowling alley.” Armand prompts gently.

“The bowling alley.” Daniel repeats. Realisation dawns slowly on his face. He turns his head to meet Raglan’s eyes. “Him. That asshole- Alex. Lestat’s fucking- head in a bowling bag.”

“Mhm.” Armand says, “Then a fight-”

“They played dirty.” Daniel says. He hisses, bites down on his anger, and turns back to Armand. “And I died. I died, Armand.”

“You did.” Armand says. He has to look away, then, and swallow his pain. “I am sorry that I was not there. I will never forgive myself for it.”

“I died.” Daniel says again. He looks off into the distance, his eyes suddenly far away. “And as my head was ripped from my fucking shoulders- Oh my god- I felt- my whole life, flashing before my eyes- everything, from start to finish, the whole lot, Armand- Jesus-”

“I know.” Armand says. “It’s okay. It’s over now. It’s okay.”

“My whole life.” Daniel says slowly. He takes a breath.

Armand feels the air shift. It grows cold and still. Suddenly, he cannot breathe, he cannot even blink-

“Armand.” Merrick warns. “Something is wrong. Something is-”

Daniel looks up at Armand sharply.

“My whole life.” He says, again. “All of it.”

Daniel stares at him, and Armand stares back, and Daniel’s face changes. He seems… his expression appears…

Different, Armand thinks.

Knowing.

Armand feels a lump in his throat. His eyes burn, and he looks down at his feet.

“Daniel.” Armand says, slowly, “Perhaps we should-”

“No.” Daniel says. Armand feels the weight of his gaze, burning on his skin, though still, he cannot look. “No, let’s keep going, let’s fucking- Get it all out there, Armand.”

Ah, Armand thinks to himself, a complication.

“Oh, dear.” Raglan taunts, across the circle, “Do you think he remembers now?”

Armand had not considered it.

In death, in resurrection-

Daniel’s altered memories, Armand thinks, as his mind died, they…

Could they have returned to him?

Does he remember?

Oh, does he remember?

Does he?

“Let us circle back,” Armand says, “To your death- and your resurrection-”

“Oh, but we’ve got time.” Daniel bites. He kicks at his body. His old body- his young spirit- Together as one in the circle of salt. “We’ve got nothing but time. I’m fucking dead.”

“Daniel.” Armand says. “You will live.”

Daniel hums. He is angry, Armand thinks, he is so angry- The room is vibrating with it-

“It is as I said.” Merrick says. “He will despise you.”

“Armand.” Fareed calls, as Raglan chuckles. “Do you think-”

“Silence.” Armand hisses. “All of you.”

The room grows still, and suddenly it is entirely empty, apart from himself and Daniel.

“Let me explain to you.” Armand says, “I will make amends. I- Daniel. Please.”

Daniel shakes his head. He rises, and as he stares at Armand, his eyes are so very clear. Armand feels a wave of relief, despite everything. He has held this secret in his soul for so very long. Here it is now, between them in the room. Daniel’s spirit remembers him.

“You know,” Daniel says, low and angry. He is vibrating with fury- But Armand knows him better. Such pain, in Daniel’s eyes. Such sorrow. “Those months, before I died- That shit we did together-”

“Daniel, please.”

“You didn’t once think to mention,” Daniel says, “That twelve fucking years of my life-”

The room erupts with noise and motion. Armand’s mind control breaks. Raglan’s chair falls backwards; Fareed is thrown to the wall. Armand takes a breath. They are alone no longer, and Daniel is vengeful.

“You were going to let me die.” Daniel says. “Without knowing-”

“I am sorry.” Armand says desperately. “Please. Please, let me speak, I will explain all of it-”

“Fuck off.” Daniel says. “Fuck you, fuck all of this- Why am I here, Armand, just send me back to hell, I’d be better off-”

“Enough.” Armand says wearily. “Enough.”

Armand breaks the salt circle, smudging it with the toe of his foot. Daniel’s eyes light up, with anger and fear and delight, and Armand steps into the circle.

“Armand.” Merrick says. “Don’t-”

Armand ignores her. He reaches out to Merrick and Raglan’s mind, and forces past their telepathic barriers, sending them into a deep slumber.

“Beloved.” Armand whispers, afterwards. “Forgive me.”

Daniel breathes heavily, and stares at him, but the room is still again, and Daniel’s anger has calmed. Armand steps closer to Daniel’s spirit, and Daniel steps backwards. Armand follows, closer, closer-

He reaches for him. He holds onto Daniel’s jacket, and clings to him. Mine, mine, mine.

“Forgive me.” Armand says. “For all I have done- Let me resurrect you- I am sorry, I am sorry, let me bring you to life again-”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Daniel asks. “You’re so insane- What the fuck-”

Armand falls to his knees, and presses his face to Daniel’s knees.

“I love you.” Armand says, “I love you, Daniel, I love you, I love you.”

Daniel is frozen still, and so Armand’s voice continues to spill out of him. Begging, pleading.

“You were dead.” Armand says. “You left me, you were gone, dead, what was I supposed to do but bring you back- I have your body, Daniel- Please. Please. I love you, I love you so much. I need you.”

“Armand.” Daniel chokes on something. “You are so fucking-”

“I know, I know, I know-”

At last, Daniel crouches down in front of him, and Armand cries out and reaches for him. Daniel leans back, slightly, so that they are still looking at each other.

“You’re so messed up.” Daniel says. “Look at my body, Jesus Christ- did you stitch it up?”

Armand nods, his eyes burning, his body trembling

“What the fuck, Armand?” Daniel says. “And now what? How are you gonna bring me back to life, huh? Crazy bastard.”

“Ah- It is a long story, but the Talamsca- Raglan James- He has the ability to swap bodies- His soul resides in someone else’s body- So perhaps, your soul-”

“Raglan what?”

“And though it has never been attempted with living bodies,” Armand says, ignoring him, “I am going to restore your soul to your body. I’m going to bring you back to me.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” Armand says quietly. Then, a glimmer of truth, “In truth, Daniel, I don’t think so, but I will make it possible.”

Daniel stares at him. At last, he softens.

“Shit.” Daniel says. “Armand, what the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Armand says, truthfully.

“…You really meant all that love bullshit, huh?” Daniel asks, his eyes warm now, and Armand laughs tearily.

“I cannot lose you.” Armand says. “I will not.”

Daniel shakes his head. He reaches out, and cups Armand’s face in his hand, and Armand - desperately relieved, aching to be touched - leans into it. It is a strange, to feel the touch of a spirit, but Armand doesn’t mind.

“The devil will not have you.” Armand breathe. “You are mine, Daniel.”

“Yeah?” Daniel asks, in that light, irritating way, and Armand feels overcome with tenderness, and affection.

“Yeah.” Armand mimics back. He smiles warmly, and a matching smile twitches on Daniel’s lips. “Let me bring you back to me.”

“Fuck.” Daniel says. “Sure. Right. Okay.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.” Daniel nods. “Do it. I wasn’t ready to die, anyway.”

“No.” Armand agrees. He takes a breath, calm now, and wipes his eyes. He rises, and steps outside of the circle. “Fareed, prepare the other body, in case-”

“It is ready.” Fareed says. His voice is faint and weak. Armand glances at him. Heal, he thinks, and Fareed’s broken arm resets itself.

“Thank you.” Fareed says, surprised.

“It is the least I can do, Doctor.” Armand says warmly. “How long until Daniel’s body is defrosted?”

“One minute.” Fareed says. “And fourty seconds.”

“Perfect.” Armand says. “I will attempt it now.”

He begins the timer on his apple watch, and holds out his hand. Fareed walks on shaky feet to Armand, and places the blade in his hand. Armand nods, and they hold each other’s gaze for a moment.

“Thank you.” Armand says.

Fareed shakes his head.

“Please, don’t.” He says, but kindly.

“Can someone actually tell me,” Daniel says, “What the fuck is about to happen-”

“Ah.” Armand says, warmly, “I will explain, Daniel, but do bear in mind this is an… experiment. We do not technically know what is going to happen.”

“Great.” Daniel mutters. “Really reassuring, babe.”

Armand kneels down beside his body.

“First,” Armand says, “Your body was frozen, to ensure it would not decay.”

He strokes his hand over Daniel’s hair.

“Stitched together,” He murmurs, “Good as new. Next-”

Armand gestures to Fareed, who has begun to potter around Daniel’s sitting room.

“A few things,” Armand says, as Fareed begins to set up the equipment around the circle. A chair, an IV drip- “The doctor is going to transfuse a lot of substances into your body. Adrenaline, antibodies-”

“A defibrillator.” Fareed adds, “For we theorised that the electric shock will interact with the electric current of your spirit- I have been testing you, while you spoke with Armand, and your soul is pure electricity. Static matter.”

“Okay.” Daniel says slowly, “And the knife?”

“Vampiric blood is restorative.” Armand says, “It will, I hope, provide some healing quality. And it is also-”

Armand hesitates. His eyes flicker over Daniel’s face.

“Well.” He says softly, “You remember now, don’t you? How you were… partial, to my blood, as a mortal? I was hoping your body may… react to it.”

Daniel’s swallows.

“Can we, uh, not talk about that, right now?” Daniel says, “Doctor Fareed is literally hooking my corpse up to an IV right now, Armand.”

“Yes.” Armand clears his throat. “Well, that is all. Are you ready, Daniel?”

“No.” Daniel says.

“Me neither.” Fareed says. Armand smiles.

“Well,” Armand says, “Nor am I, but here we are. Begin the transfusion, doctor. It is time to bring our dear Mr. Molloy back to us.”

Armand puts the blade to his skin. Daniel’s spirit reaches out, and places a hand upon his own on the hilt of the blade.

“Hey.” Daniel murmurs.

Armand looks up, and blinks at him. Startled. Catlike. Daniel gazes at him.

“Yes, Daniel?” Armand asks.

“If this doesn’t work,” Daniel says. He doesn’t break Armand’s stare, even as he swallows, even as his hand shakes on top of Armand’s. “If- If for whatever reason-”

“Hush.” Armand cuts in. “It will work.”

“If it doesn’t.” Daniel says. Armand looks away from him, can’t stand the idea of it, will not allow it, cannot- “I can’t die without- Armand, look at me.”

Armand meets his gaze.

“You know, right?” Daniel asks quietly. “Do you know?”

Armand searches his eyes.

“What?” He asks, at last.

Daniel’s gaze softens. He shuffles closer, his phantom knees ghosting against Armand’s. A spot of warmth, the two of them crouched over Daniel’s body on the ground. Armand startles, and cuts his arm, a little, but the sting of it doesn’t distract him, for Daniel is looking at him like-

Like-

Armand does not register Fareed using the defibrillator, or the drip of the IV. He does not see anything but Daniel’s face.

“You,” Daniel says, “Were- Are- The best fucking thing-”

Daniel shakes his head, looks down.

“The best thing.” Daniel murmurs.

He nudges Armand’s hand, and Armand slides the knife along his wrist, cutting open the skin. The blade creates a deep, gaping wound, and it spills over with blood, with pain, gushing onto Daniel’s body, over his face, his mouth- Armand is reminded of the plane, again. He brought death. He brings life. God of all things. Daniel’s God, his guard, his keeper.

“And I-” Daniel swallows. “Armand-”

“Armand.” Fareed cuts in sternly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to proceed with the next step.”

Armand blinks. He has to drag his eyes away from Daniel’s phantom face, and instead he focuses on parting Daniel’s real lips with his fingers, and forcing the blood into his cold mouth.

“We will speak later, beloved,” Armand says, his voice cracking around the final word, “But right now, I need you to concentrate. Imagine yourself in your body, again- Imagine it for me, in vivid detail, and take your spirit body, and lay it upon your physical body- Go inside of it again- It will house your soul.”

There is a spark of electricity in the room as Daniel follows the instructions, and lays himself upon the body. Armand feels a thrill of excitement. The air crackles with it.

“Is it working?” He asks, glancing at Fareed.

“Something is happening,” Fareed says, “I’m not sure-”

The lights in the apartment go out.

Armand stares, in the dark, as Daniel’s corpse begins to move.

It contorts, its back arching, its mouth opening. It’s ropes break and snap. It is covered in Armand’s blood, and its skin is sparkling with electricity, and Armand stares and thinks it is awful, and beautiful, and whatever it is, it is Daniel.

“Oh my.” Fareed breathes.

The body falls back onto the ground, silent and still. Armand stares. He crawls to it, leans over its face.

“Daniel?” He whispers.

The body- Its face-

Daniel’s eyes open. They are… changed. No longer golden, like his own, but jet black. Ah, no, Armand thinks, there are specks of gold- glimmers of amber still there, in that darkness- Armand is glad for it. He scans Daniel’s body curiously.

He seems… different, Armand thinks. Not vampire, but not human, either. Something…

Strange.

Otherworldly.

Something wrong, Merrick’s voice chimes in his mind, but Armand ignores it. He stares into Daniel’s changed eyes.

“Daniel.” He says again. “Can you hear me? Do you see me?”

The creature- Daniel- stirs, and sits up. Armand follows it, grabs at it’s-Daniel’s cheeks, forcing him to meet his eyes. Daniel’s skin is hot, Armand thinks, and he feels a strange crackle beneath his palms. Like- an electric current. It makes Armand shiver.

“Daniel.” Armand says. “Beloved.”

Finally- Daniel looks at him. Ah, recognition, Armand thinks. The monster knows him. It smiles. It remembers him. Yes, yes-

“You are alive.” Armand says. “You are alive- I did it-“

“Armand.” Daniel says. His voice is hoarse, but it does not sound- too different- it crackles, a little, but Armand doesn’t mind it.

“Thank goodness.” Armand breathes. He clutches Daniel to his chest, and a sob rises in his throat, because though he vowed he would bring Daniel back, some part of him hadn’t believed it.

Daniel was dead. He had been dead. And now-

He is here. His hands are rising to hold Armand’s back. Home again. Yes, yes, his beloved is here, and he will never leave him again.

“You have returned to me.” Armand murmurs into his hair, “You will live forever.”

And then Armand cries, and cries, and cries, for all that he lost, and all that he has gained.

“Daniel.” He weeps. “Daniel.”

Daniel holds him close.

“It’s okay.” Daniel murmurs, into his chest. “I’m here now. It’s okay.”

And it is, Armand thinks, and it will always be.

Oh, Daniel is thinking, He really does love me.

Delight settles in Armand’s chest, and lights him up. He heard the thought! Daniel’s mind- It is his again! He can hear him!

Daniel is no longer his fledgling.

Amends, Armand thinks, have finally been made.

Sorrow, after pleasure, is a complicated thing. Once, he was Daniel’s maker. And once again, Armand has made him into something new. Now- What sort of creature is Daniel? And in turn, what sort of creature is Armand?

It does not matter, Armand decides.

I do love you, Armand thinks in Daniel’s head, I love you, I love you, I love you-

What else is there, other than that?

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