Angelus has finally completed his little project. He brings her home nearly catatonic, and filthy with the wastes of an expiring mortal body. She barely reacts as I bathe her. I tell her I’m washing away her weakness and her fear. She tells me her name is Drusilla. Pale, naked, and huddled, she looks even smaller than her thin frame. She tells me I’m kind. I tell her I’m not.
I tell Angelus to find a girl her size, so that she can have clean clothing and something to eat. She drains the girl quickly, and stands up proud. Now I can see that she’s beautiful.
At dawn, she insists on sleeping with me between her and Angelus. I tell her he’s not that frightening. She curls up on me like I imagine a child would. The thought of it should repulse me, but it doesn’t.
She speaks in riddles. Angelus tells me he’s driven her mad. He’s very proud of himself. We go hunting as a trio. She’s an eager eater.
She and Angelus are fucking now. I can hear her howling through the thin walls. She’s vocal. I like it. When they finish, she comes in and sleeps with me. She holds me, and I lie awake.
We kill a tailor. She tells me I look like a duchess in my new clothes.
She sings songs to herself and dances. It makes me smile. It should make me want to murder her, but it makes me smile.
We go on a hunt without Angelus. She likes to play with her food. When we have a proper massacre, she’ll have such fun. We trade prey and she drinks from the holes I’ve made in his neck. She tells me it’s like we kissed. I ask her if she wants to, and she just laughs that giddy laugh of hers.
Angelus and I have sex for the first time since he sired her. I find myself bored by him, wondering what she’d be like instead.
She has the sight. I don’t know how I didn’t realize, but half her babbling is about things yet to come. She looks deep in my eyes and tells me not to go with the grey man. She tells me the grey man will lead me into ashes. She sobs. I hold her, and kiss her on the forehead, and tell her I’m not going anywhere.
Angelus brings both of us into bed with him. She and I barely touch.
It’s our first proper massacre. A whole banquet of aristocrats. She dances through the slaughter, gouging eyes and tearing off limbs. She doesn’t just drink their blood, she paints herself with it. Angelus licks it from her. I invite her to waltz between the corpses. She’s glowing with the heat of the kill, and as I hold her close she starts humming. Not in waltz time, of course. She breaks away from me, and she and Angelus dance. I hate to see it, a little.
That night, we sleep in our bloody clothes, and she begins to suckle the dried blood on the hem of my skirt. I ought to tear her off of me, but instead I stroke her hair.
Angelus is gone. I ask if she’d like to make love. She’s eager and clumsy, and she explores my whole body with her mouth. We spend the day naked, in and out of bath and bed. I think I might love her, a little.
When Angelus returns, he’s in tatters. We have to flee. Drusilla wails as the townsfolk throw torches at our carriage. Angelus scolds her, but I tell her not to worry.
We lay low. Angelus takes her to his bed, and I sit alone. I sneak off and masturbate, and think of how I wish it were her fingers instead of my own.
I go out and drink. Come home disheveled. I say things to Angelus that I don’t regret, even if they’re the sort of thing you regret. He tells me to go back to my Master. Perhaps I shall.
I leave. Drusilla kisses me goodbye. I don’t know how to tell her I may not return for a while. I don’t think she understands. As my ship departs England, I cry the tears of a lovesick idiot.
I butcher men creatively for my Master. He says I’m becoming more beautiful every day. I find I want to hurt my victims, not for pleasure, but because I am wrathful.
There’s a pretty plump thing in my Master’s service, now. She’s good with her tongue, and made of soft pillows. I kick her out of bed as soon as I’m done with her.
The pretty plump girl is called Charlotte. She hopes I can help her rise in my Master’s esteem. I doubt it, but I like the way her arse quivers when I strike it.
Charlotte’s an efficient killer, but she has no sense of fun. Angelus and Drusilla knew their way around a body; Charlotte just knows how to make one stop moving.
Sex with Charlotte is good, and sex with the wiry young man she sired is less so, but he’s pretty.
The wiry young man is named Victor. He’s got a big cock and no clue how to use it.
Victor has just heard of Slayers, and of course he wants to kill one. I tell him it’s not worth the trouble, that there are easier kills and they scream just as pleasantly. He wants to prove himself. Men.
Day 82: Charlotte and Victor are dust. I hop a steamboat and travel toward St. Louis.
Day 87: I am traveling east, leaving corpses and empty wine bottles in my wake. America has gotten very dull indeed. I am starting to forget Drusilla’s voice, and this makes me sad, like the idiot I am.
Everything in this part of the state of New York is named for the devil. You’d think it would be more fun.
Boston is tedium. I swim in the Charles and drink the Irish. I am reminded of Angelus every time one of them shrieks.
Drusilla’s tracked me to America. She says Angelus will be very pleased to see me.
Drusilla’s madder than I remember. Or, at least, she’s less present. She has a scar from where a peasant ran her through with a pitchfork. I tell Angelus he should take better care of her.
She’s taken to sleeping with me every night now. Her hands wander, but we don’t make love.
Now, we are making love. Four times today, in fact. She’s gotten much better at handling women. And it’s not in ways Angelus taught her. I shall have to ask about that.
I wonder if Angelus envies me when he hears us making love. I think that would only be fair.
I realize that I’ve been calling it ‘making love.’ I think I call it that because she’s the only one in the world I want to be gentle with. Even when I leave her bruised and scratched, I make sure to hold her and speak to her softly. Angelus is my child, and together we are glorious, but she is a beautiful poison berry. I think we could kill the world together, if we wanted to. Gut them all and suck the blood right from their hearts. I feel young and brutal again, with her. I know she belongs to Angelus, and I know he knows it. But we’re vampires. We take what we want. And I know she’s taken me.