Edited: 01/13/23

“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him,” Darren chanted as he sunk into the window nook in the library. He could still hear Daniel with his curse of amplified vampire hearing, but just being out of the room was easing his mind. How could he do that to him? How could he say that word? It was as bad as the other F word…Fag…He was ripping him apart. Gutting him.

As Darren continued to paint his fingernails, his hands shook. He wasn’t going to cry. His tears for Daniel had dried up, but it didn’t stop the pain from swelling in his being or keep it from constricting around his heart. Inside, he was dying. Inside, he was crying. He thought he had done the right thing when embracing Daniel, but now he could see it was a big mistake. He just couldn’t leave him there, dead in his arms. He was so pale and so frail.

Recalling that day so long ago, Darren remembered everything had happened so fast. The Aborigines stormed the vampire lair, and it was total chaos. He saw the king being beheaded and his body burst into flames. The Aborigines also used boomerangs and stakes to impale the vampires. A stake was launched into Darren’s chest, barely missing his heart. Everything went black. When he came through, he saw dead bodies and piles of ash everywhere. The bodies belonged to fallen hunters, and the ashes were the remains of his kind. He needed blood to heal and the only person he thought could help him was Daniel. All he would need was a bit of blood to heal, that’s all.

Darren stumbled through the tunnels of Coober Pedy to his and Daniel’s underground hotel. He banged on Daniel’s door and called his name. He remembered Daniel opening the door and saying, “Darren, where the fuck have you been all week?” He hadn’t registered Darren’s state until it was too late. His long, elegant neck was exposed, and hunger struck. Darren needed it, he needed his life. Like an animal, a beast, Darren shredded Daniel’s throat and gulped down his blood. When his mind cleared and he saw what he had done, he sobbed and held Daniel as his life slipped away. He listened to his raspy and gurgling breaths. He watched life slip from his face and eyes. He was dead.

Darren always had a thing for Daniel. He couldn’t just let him die. Especially since it was his fault. Daniel was a prick, but he was still his friend and bandmate. He felt it was his duty to save him, so he did the only thing he could think of. He embraced him.

Darren and Daniel ran with the night. Fiends of hell. They had each other to rely on and no one else. They hid in abandoned structures during the day and one night, while lying in an old rickety basement waiting for dawn, Darren blurted out, “I’m gay.” He didn’t anticipate the response he got. Daniel’s beautiful lips, not as full as his, but still juicy nonetheless, pulled back into his charming smile with rows of gleaming teeth and said, “No shit, Darren. Everybody knows you’re gay except for you.” They laughed and Darren was glad Daniel hadn’t freaked out and run from him. He then dropped another bomb and told him how he felt about him and to that, Daniel said, “Well, shit, I’m dead, right? I’ll try anything once.” They fucked and there was bliss all over again. Darren’s heart was healed and saved. He spilled his guts to Daniel about how he was treated in school, about how he pleaded to his mother to take him to the hospital so the doctor could check him out for AIDS. His soul hurt and Daniel was there for him…Until he wasn’t…

One day, Daniel started acting strange toward Darren. He was barely speaking, they weren’t having sex, no touching, no kissing. Darren was too scared to ask him what was wrong. He remembered when his father got in those moods. It was just best to leave him alone. One day, Daniel went to check things out around the structure they were in, and he didn’t come back. Darren pined for him. He lay in the dilapidated shack becoming one with the structure. He fed off bush rats and other animals of the Australian habitat. That wasn’t nearly enough to sustain him, and he lay weak hoping for the end. His body was in so much pain and he just prayed for death, but that’s when a vampire found him.

McGregor was the only name the vampire went by. He was a member of The PIEN and worked in the law enforcement department, Le Baiser de La Mort. The two divisions of Le Baiser de La Mort were Les Gardiens de Sang and Les Limiers. Les Gardiens de Sang handled intra-species affairs and ensured that Les Lois de Vampires, unwritten laws that governed vampire society, were upheld. Les Limiers handled finding, locating, and eradicating hunters and Blood Reavers. McGregor was a member of Les Gardiens de Sang. As a mentor, he handled newly turned vampires who somehow got separated from their creators.

Finding Darren in his pining state, McGregor got him up and to his car. Darren’s energy was gone. He could barely make it to the car, stumbling several times with McGregor picking him up. He didn’t know where he was being taken but he knew he was with another vampire. He didn’t even remember how long the trip took. All he remembered was waking up in a hotel and seeing Daniel’s face. There wasn’t any time to talk as McGregor instructed him to eat. There were four humans tied up in their room and Darren drained them all, their cries muffled by the gags in their mouths.

For days, Daniel and Darren didn’t talk, but then Darren had to know why he left him. Daniel said he got scared but wouldn’t say what had scared him. They fell in love again. McGregor became their mentor and Darren forgave Daniel. However, as he sat in the nook and covered his painted nails with a coating of matte topcoat, Darren now knew what that fear was. The fear of being gay and being with him.

Downstairs, Daniel was howling the lyrics of “I Don’t Know You Anymore” and Darren shook his head. “You’re goddamn right about that, you fucking soap dodger,” he replied to the coarse melody mocking Daniel’s English heritage as he had been born in England. It wasn’t that he had an issue with the English, he was just pissed.

Entering their bedroom, he sat at his vanity and put the nail polish away. He then dolled himself up with a bit of rose lip tint and black eyeliner. He combed his hair and spritzed on his favorite brand of unisex eau de toilette, Dorothy’s Secret. The name was a nod to the phrase “A Friend of Dorothy,” a furtive shibboleth used to discuss sexual orientations. He used to be close friends with the guy who created and owned the brand, Jason Mikkies, but that all changed when he was embraced by night. Shit, he wished he had hooked up with Jason instead of Daniel. What the fuck was he thinking?

Dressing in all black the way he enjoyed it, Darren wore a black ribbed, V-neck sweater, jeans, and boots. Anger was displayed in everything he did. He didn’t slide into his clothes, he yanked everything on. He did the same with his jewelry. Yanked the rings on, slapped the watch around his wrist, and… halted looking at the pair of huge Asscher-cut diamond earrings… Daniel had given them to him for their fifteenth anniversary. What the hell happened to them?

Looking at the bedroom window, Darren contemplated throwing the earrings out. As strong as he was, he wondered if he could break them. Looking back at the earrings he contemplated. Did he hate Daniel? He had chanted it. He had felt the heat of rage at what he said to him. Running his fingers over the stones he pressed his lips together so hard that they hurt. “Fuck him,” he muttered as he slid the earrings into his ears. After all, they were his now. “Dickhead.”

Lastly, Darren pulled on a beanie, a pair of sunglasses, and his charcoal gray hooded peacoat. Even though he hadn’t been in the spotlight for twenty-two years, he had to take care to conceal his identity, hence the sunglasses.

At the door, Darren laid his hand on the knob. He paused, trying to gather himself. He was going down there. Right now, Daniel was yelling “I Knew I Loved You.” Sighing, Darren gathered all of his nerves and left the room. He slowly and heavily managed the stairs and moved into the living room. Silence…

Daniel immediately dropped the tune and looked Darren up and down. Darren could tell by the look on his face that he was pleased by what he saw. A smirk tugged at the corner of Darren’s lips. However, Daniel was a prideful dick, psychotic, and an alcoholic. “I knew you loved me before you met me! Darren dreamed me to life!” he shouted.

Darren shook his head and moved to the door grasping the knob.

“Darren?” Daniel called him. Halting, Darren waited. “Did you love me before you met me?” He was fucking off the chain that night. “Did you dream me into life?”

Daniel just wouldn’t stop with the knife. He was slicing Darren up and down inside, carving his name on his spleen.

“You need help, Daniel,” Darren replied and turned the knob.

“Two beds and a coffee machine!” Daniel shouted. “One decaf and one with caffeine.”

Darren’s hand shook on the knob and slowly he turned and looked at Daniel. “How could you?” he asked with his voice shaking. He didn’t wait for an answer. He snatched the door open and ran out slamming it behind him.

Leaning against the door, Darren tried to calm down as he shook. He was an old enough vampire to breathe, and so he inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to calm himself. The ability was used for tricking prey and also included making his heart beat and feeling warm to the touch. However, the breathing ability was also therapeutic.

Darren felt sick. His stomach was flip-flopping and wobbling. He hoped the blood he drank wouldn’t come up. Slowly, he pushed away from the door and inched down the hall one foot at a time. The more distance he put between himself and Daniel, the better he felt.

“Are you all right, sir?” the elevator attendant asked. He was a human servant dressed in a stupid ass doorman outfit, complete with white gloves and those dumbass round hats.

Darren was not in a good mood so he might as well take it out on a human. “Yes!” he snarled.

“Going down, sir?” the servant asked without displaying any sign that he was bothered by Darren’s hostilities.

“Obviously.” Darren eyed his neck. Maybe if he ripped his throat out…

“Yes, sir,” the servant replied and pressed the down button.

Darren turned away from the attendant. This wasn’t him. He needed to calm down. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to gain control. He couldn’t let Daniel win. He couldn’t let him break him. Mind over matter, he willed himself, and soon, he was opening his eyes and was himself again.

“Sir, are you sure you’re okay?” the servant asked.

“Ah, yes,” Darren said and nodded. “Thanks for asking.” When the elevator dinged, he removed some bills from his pocket and placed them in the man’s hand.

“Thank you, sir,” the attendant replied.

Darren nodded his head to the servant and stepped onto the elevator when the doors opened. He told the elevator operator to take him to the lobby and once there, he offered him some bills as well. Usually, he would take a long stroll across the lobby, but he just wanted to get the fuck away from Rafinesque Place. Thrusting his hands into his coat pockets, he moved fast across the tile to the other side where he took the stairs down to the basement.

The noise of chatter coming from the whorehouse, the bar, and the restaurant annoyed Darren. After all these years he still wasn’t used to his heightened sense of hearing. Reaching the door leading to the underground tunnel, he waited for the servant to open it, and just like he did with the others, he gave him money and passed on.

Where was he going? Darren stood in the dark tunnel with its earthen floor and mucky sweaty old dark walls. The entire tunnel was fashioned out of brick and had been standing for centuries. It was ingenious how organized vampire society was. Never once has anyone in New York City ever discovered the tunnels. The vampire tunnels were never disturbed even when the subway tunnels were put in place. The simple reason was that vampires had a hand in every facet of human life. They had human servants on every level of government and industry. Remarkable.

Now, where was Darren going? He could honestly use a drink even though he didn’t drink much. Maybe he’d get a junior vodka red, which was the same as a junior blood wine, except with vodka. Raw was the closest, but Darren didn’t want to go there except on days when he was working. Benton Pigglewidth, oh, sorry, Piggles, as he liked to be called, just creeped him the fuck out. However, it was the closest. Maybe he wouldn’t see him that night.

It would take about forty to fifty minutes to get to Raw by car, and longer than that if walking. Also, Raw was a closed establishment, which meant it was housed in an abandoned and boarded-up property, and the only way in was through the tunnels. So, Darren did the only logical thing a vampire would do. He ran…like, really, really, really fucking fast. He was nothing but a streak of black zipping through the tunnels.

It took Darren awhile to get used to moving fast. The thought that if he were human again, his body would break down because it was impossible kept plaguing his mind. The human body just wasn’t built to move at that rate and velocity. So, yeah, Iron Man was full of shit. Just about as full of shit as Daniel was, and the further Darren ran from him, the better he felt.

Le Baiser de La Mort: French. The Kiss of Death
Les Limiers: French. The Bloodhounds
Les Lois de Vampires: French. The Vampiric Laws