Chapter Text
“How do you do it?” The echo of his voice in the room was loud, and he could hear the half-veiled fear in it, “Do you… train them?”
The vampire standing with his back to him chuckled, his hands busy as he cleaned off the blood from his fingers. The permeating iron smell was heavy in the air, and Guy felt his insides turn at the rawness of it, at the knowledge that this blood was simply food to the creature before him. A real vampire, cleaning off real blood off his hands, perhaps not licking it off out of the remnant of the human gesture of propriety.
“It’s cold,” the voice was low, but crystal clear to him, like a whisper against his ear. “I don’t like cold blood.”
He took a deep breath in, trying to calm his quickening heartbeat. The vampire had read his mind, and he hadn’t even noticed. He had left no remnant of his conscience in his mind; he had not left a footprint on it. For someone like him, a freak like Guy, not knowing when someone was listening to the inner workings of his mind was a first.
The man—the dead creature—turned slowly, blue eyes burning as his lips rose in a slow smile.
“Not pleasant, huh?” sibilant consonants holding him in place, the chair under him his only support against the power before him, “This is what it is to have the power to take anyone by surprise. But you already know that, don’t you? You thought I didn’t know you’ve been watching. You thought I couldn’t feel your mind trying to sneak into mine.”
“It wasn’t-”
“On purpose?” The smile turned to a smirk as the vampire dropped the bloodied cloth to the side, “Of course it wasn’t. Only an amateur would try it on purpose. And only an idiot would try it on me.”
Jasper, for that was his name according to the Talamasca, took two measured steps towards him, his body gliding sensually in the confined space. There was something in the way he moved, something Burton hadn’t had, something unnaturally seductive, to the point of being hypnotic. Guy could feel the power in him, the weight of something unnamed inside him, the silent dominion of the body that could and had to overcome lesser ones to survive.
“How do you do it?” he repeated, blurting the words out to try to keep his fear at bay. “Is it sound? Is it rhythm?”
Jasper tilted his head, looking down at him as he bit his lip and lifted his left shoulder slightly.
“Is it the blood I gave them?” The vampire shrugged and threw his hand up in the air, nonchalant but still seductive. “Is it the torture I inflict upon their minds? Does it matter?”
Guy shifted in the chair, suddenly uncomfortable in the position, his neck cramping as he looked up at Jasper. He was painfully aware of the mismatched position he was in, of the lack of control he had over the space and the moment. He knew nothing about this, about vampires or about Jasper’s trained or untrained attackers, the ones that went rogue with a simple click. Who was he to know anyway? Why was he so curious about this vampire’s power? He would lose nothing if he simply walked away from this; he could still build a life outside of all this, and he could still return to the lie he had been told since childhood. He could still be the freak-
“Oh, stop that,” Jasper threw him an exasperated look, rolling his eyes at him, “This is not a freak contest. You’re just a curious kid, and you’re bleeding.”
He lifted a hand, and Guy instinctively sat back in the chair, suddenly reminded of the permeating iron smell in the room. The creature before him was not human, no matter how human he looked and sounded. Jasper smirked and rolled his eyes again, showing him his palm.
“Just a hand, kid,” he slowly lifted it to his mouth, biting down into his thumb with the flash of a sharp fang that made Guy recoil even more.
As Jasper moved to grab his face, he jumped back, trying to get as far away from him as humanly possible, fear and confusion singing along in his veins, next to a curiosity he couldn’t deny. The smell of his blood was heavy, overpowering, and it woke something in him that screamed both ‘danger’ and ‘come forth’ into his mind.
“Do you want a scar?” the voice was suddenly softer, suddenly as pliant as molten glass. “It doesn’t hurt.” Somehow Jasper’s hand was on his hair, fingers entwining into his curls as he slowly lifted the bleeding thumb towards him. “Just… trust me.”
The softest of touches, as his thumb caressed the small cut on his forehead, the blood on his thumb entering the wound and burning slightly, like the welcoming heat of a hearth in winter. It ached, but without the echo of any pain. He felt the pulse travel through him, as definitive as any pleasure he had ever felt. Jasper’s blue eyes were on him as he slowly lifted his hand, caressing his curls before releasing the grip on his skull.
“See?” A little smile on his lips. “It’s easier if you trust me.”
Guy lifted a hand to his forehead, and he traced the now closed wound. Only dried blood on his skin now. And Jasper’s blood? Jasper’s blood was now inside him. How had he just sat there and taken it? What power had he to make him comply without resistance? He felt the fear turn to panic, suddenly uncertain of what he wanted or where he wanted to be.
“Answer the question,” his voice shook, but he knew he had to repeat himself; he had to convince himself he had some power here. “How do you do-”
“A thank you would be welcomed, but since you are desperate to know,” Jasper walked back slowly, turning towards the window before throwing him an exasperated look over his shoulder. “My blood—our blood now, I guess, since you have some of it inside you—is… addictive. And you can make anyone do anything, kid. If you get them addicted to something only you can provide.”
Guy scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat back, his heart pounding in his ears as he tried to appear as calm as he did not feel. But he had enough mind in him to think of Jasper’s words and deem them a cliché. And here he thought he was talking to a wise immortal, someone old enough to have a nuanced and interesting method behind the domineering spirit.
A gust of air, and suddenly Jasper was before him, in the blink of an eye. He had moved too fast for his eyes to follow, and Guy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Parlor trick Burton had also played for him, but no less unnatural this time around, and no less unnerving.
“You think that’s unoriginal?" Jasper’s softness was gone, his voice hard as he stared down at him, “You think I cannot count the beatings of your heart and find the exact rhythm between your heartbeats?” He was slowly bending now, one hand to the back of Guy’s chair, his face slowly leveling and closing in on him, “You think I cannot find the exact pause, the exact void in your body’s mortal rhythm, and hold it in my hand? It is simply observation.” His face was too close, his blue eyes holding him. He could not move his body under his gaze. He knew Jasper was living, but not alive. “You read minds, little man. You think you’re a freak for hearing the pulsing of another’s mind in yours. But I… I can hold your very breath on the tips of my fingers. Just one click, one snap, and your body is completely mine.”
The sharpened breaths in his chest were loud, too loud, in the cramped little room. And in the echo of Jasper’s dying words, Guy realized the body before him was not breathing. He was dead. He was undead.
Panic turned to dread. Was he going to die in this room?
The mouth before him opened, too close to his face, and the sharp fangs shone in the half light.
“Do you want me to show you what I can do with your body?” The words caressed his ears.
“You’d need my permission.” Guy breathed out, remembering the old tales from the movies.
The lips turned upward, the predator’s smile displaying its fangs to the prey.
“I already got it, kid,” words whispered directly into his mind. “The moment your wound drank up my blood, you allowed me in.”