Chapter Text
It was hot and sweltering in the Santa Monica Clinic. Vandal was watching the flies buzz helplessly against the serving window of the blood bank. The filthy insects always seemed to find their way in, but never did manage to get out again. Vandal muttered under his breath. It was almost too hot to think straight. The air conditioning down here didn’t work for shit. You’d think it would cool down a little during the night, but it hardly ever did.
“Yo, dude!”
Great, just what he needed. Vandal took a deep breath. “Hello, Knox,” he said, forcing a grin.
“Oh man, it’s been too long, dude,” Knox said, a gormless smile plastered on his face.
“Has it?” Vandal said blankly, but Knox wasn’t listening. He was leaning against the window eagerly.
“It’s been crazy right?” he laughed. “First all that shit with that Sarcophagus, then the prince gets blown to bits… I guess that Maximilian guy is running things now.”
Vandal didn’t answer. Knox didn’t need replies, he never shut up as it was. There wasn’t one of his fellow ghouls that Vandal could really stand, but Knox was a particular tax on his patience. Not only was he an excitable moron, the Nosferatu blood in his system made him prone to scheming for information. Vandal had never once fallen for his act and the fact that Knox still tried annoyed him no end.
“Man,” Knox grinned. “My boss isn’t happy about it, neither is his boss. This Max dude is way smarter than LaCroix, you know.”
“What did you want again?” Vandal asked impatiently. He didn’t give a shit about politics and he couldn’t care less who ruled LA. Camarilla, Anarchs, it didn’t matter, they all bought blood. He guessed Knox wanted him to tell him what Therese thought about the current situation and he wasn’t going to humour him.
“What?” Knox said distractedly. “Oh, just a couple of blue blood packs. The boss sent me out to get some.”
Vandal silently gave him three blue blood packs and accepted his money.
“Thanks, man,” Knox grinned. “Hey, you – uh – don’t report all your clients to your boss, do you?”
“Only if there’s something the Queen Bitch needs to know,” Vandal said coldly.
“Right,” Knox laughed uncomfortably.
Vandal knew why, but he didn’t give a toss. Ghouls never spoke disrespectfully of their regnants. Fledgling vampires hated their sires more often than not, but not ghouls. Ghouls were supposed to be…well, not like him.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention me to, ehm, her,” Knox said, trying to keep smiling in the face of Vandal’s icy smirk. “Her and the boss don’t really get along and word on the street is that she’s been real ticked off since her sister left.”
Vandal gave him a vacant stare. He couldn’t stand Knox and he couldn’t stand his endless chatter. In fact, if Knox had been the ghoul to a less important bloodsucker he would have had him in his chair and drained months ago. When Therese had had her feud with Knox’ regnant Betram Tung he had secretly hoped she would order him to do something like that. But the Nosferatu were powerful allies and even more dangerous enemies and even when she was in a rage Therese never made a rash decision.
“Have you heard anything about that by the way?” Knox whispered eagerly. “About Jeanette coming back or something?”
“No,” Vandal said drily. He couldn’t even muster up the effort to lie.
To be honest, he hoped Jeanette wouldn’t come back. Therese had told him she had sent her away for good. Vandal didn’t believe that for a second, but the fact was that she was gone now and Vandal hoped it would stay that way. Life was…easier for him without Jeanette. She was too changeable, not at all like Therese. Some days she had hated him and called him a leech. On some nights she accused him of poisoning the blood he brought her and her sister. On others she smiled at him and batted her eyes, asking him if he didn’t like her much better than Therese. Vandal didn’t like her better than Therese, he was terrified of her. What he felt for Therese was exactly equal measures slavish love and vivid hate. But when Jeanette looked at him what he felt most of all was fear. Fear for her madness, that seemed so much more volatile than Therese’s, and fear for what she did to him. Because even though his mind cursed at him for his betrayal, his body responded to her like she was Therese. Her eyes were as enchanting, her blood smelled just as sweet. He always fought those feelings with everything he had and luckily Therese usually kept her sister away from him, but it still terrified him how close he was to submitting to Jeanette like he did to Therese. No, as far as he was concerned Jeanette could stay away forever.
“Alright, man,” Knox said. “Thanks for the stuff. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“I can hardly wait,” Vandal sneered. He gave Knox a sickly smile and said: “You can always come back early if you feel like parting with some of your own life liquid.”
“Oh man,” Knox snickered. “You have too many names for the red stuff, you should get out more dude.”
“Thanks,” Vandal said sourly and he watched Knox disappear down the hallway.
He sat down with an exasperated grunt. It was still so fucking hot. This damn night shift took forever. Knox had been his only customer in hours. Vandal glanced at the clock. It was actually early morning by now. Only one more hour to sunrise. That probably meant no more vampire clientele until next night. He grimaced. Not even their addiction to his godly nectar was enough to make them risk being out by daybreak. For a few more minutes he managed to stay put and then Vandal gave up and decided to go get a drink in the break room. He really needed a breather.
To his displeasure the break room wasn’t empty. As if having to deal with Knox wasn’t enough crap for one night. Still, it wasn’t exactly busy, there were only two people. Paige, one of the nurses, was there and she was talking to a young woman in a black suit he had never seen before.
“Vandal,” Paige said, surprised, but not displeased. “I should have known you’d still be here!”
“Ladies,” he nodded, forcing a smile.
He considered Paige to be an empty-headed nothing of a girl, but he always made sure to be nice to her. She was pretty and it did not do to be nasty to pretty girls. Especially pretty girls who were sleeping with the one of the principal surgeons of the hospital.
“This is Anna Deering,” Paige said, stepping aside. “She’s come to join the research team. Anna, this is Vandal Cleaver, he runs the blood bank.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Anna said and she held out her hand.
Vandal looked her up and down real quick. Next to red-haired Paige with her shapely form she was nothing special, but she had obviously put care into her appearance. Her long hair was tucked neatly into a bun in a way that reminded Vandal unpleasantly of Therese. If she had been as pale as Paige she would have looked eerily like his mistress, even the clothes kind of fit. Her suit was clearly freshly pressed and fit her extremely well. It was expensive, too expensive.
“Sorry,” he said, with a smile that showed his teeth. “I don’t shake hands.”
“Shame,” Anna said, her eyes locking with his for a moment.
Vandal turned away from her. “I only came in here to get a drink,” he said, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. “I’ll leave you ladies to your chat.”
“He’s an odd one,” he heard Paige say after he closed the door behind him. “Nice enough I think, but my friend Sarah says he gives her the creeps.”
He grimaced. Sarah was a frigid bitch. Just before he walked out of earshot he heard the research girl say: “He seems interesting, very…healthy.”
“Something wrong with that one,” Vandal muttered to himself. Research team… This place didn’t have a research team. There were a couple of morons that ran blood tests and the like, but that was it. If she was really here for research, with her expensive suit and her manicured nails, she would be the first.
He went back to work and sullenly waited for his shift to be over. When it was he went straight home and straight to bed. It had been years since the sunlight had still kept him up, by now he didn’t know any better than to sleep during the day.
♦♦♦
Therese Voerman liked to be on top of things and required Vandal to check in with her considerably more often than the necessary once a month. He always needed to make an appointment, however, if she didn’t summon him herself. The Asylum was the busiest club in Santa Monica and it was by no means Therese’s only business. She was always busy. Even so it was the rule rather than the exception that he met with her once every two weeks, either to bring her blood or to inform her about the state of affairs at the blood bank and this week was no different.
“I am pleased to hear that business is not slow,” Therese said, after looking over the figures Vandal had brought for her inspection.
“Not at all,” he said. “The crimson nectar of the gods is always in demand.”
“This little unrest in the top ranks of the Camarilla may yet turn out to my advantage,” she said smugly. “Too many of the Ventrue showed their true colours when Maximilian took their precious Prince’s place. He is well aware now of how little of them he can trust.”
“All the more reason to place his faith in you, Miss Voerman,” Vandal whispered.
Therese looked at him and her lips curled into a smile. “Indeed,” she said with a self-satisfied hum.
He trembled while she looked at him and when she turned away his ribs seemed to contract around his heart. Standing with his hands behind his back, Vandal pressed the nails of his right hand into his left wrist. He tried to focus on the pain instead of on Therese. As long as he was in her presence it was impossible to think straight. He could feel the blood rushing to his head and there were voices hidden in its pulsing depth.
“Remind me, is it not your time to drink?” Therese asked suddenly.
Vandal’s heart leapt. The thought of tasting her blood again made him forget everything else. He wanted nothing more, but when he opened his mouth his strained voice answered meekly:
“Not for another week, ma’am.” He could no more lie to Therese than he could disobey her. Not while her eyes were fixed on him so brilliantly.
“You shall drink now,” Therese said. “I shall not have time for you again this week or the next.”
“You are not leaving?” Vandal blurted out. He was barely aware of how desperate he sounded, but the part of him that did hear, sent a stab of anger through his mind.
“That is none of your concern,” Therese said coldly. “You are to run the blood bank as usual. But I may not be here as often as I was before. If I am to impress upon Strauss how much a direct alliance with me would be to his benefit, I have to make myself seen as well as heard.”
Vandal bowed his head.
“Come,” Therese commanded and she beckoned him closer.
Eagerly he hurried towards her and watched with an increasingly dry mouth how she bit her own wrist with her ivory fangs. Therese held out her hand to him and he took hold of it, touching it as lightly as he could. He mumbled unintelligible words of thanks she did not listen to and then at last, finally, mercifully pressed his mouth against her cold, white skin.
There was nothing that compared to drinking Therese’s blood. No pure, unadulterated sensation he had ever felt while still a human, no dark pleasure ever acquired as a ghoul, that was superior to it. The perverseness of it wasn’t lost on him. He knew his lips were touching deceased flesh, that he was swallowing dead blood, but it gave him life and as it slipped down his throat it filled him with a delicious warmth.
“Enough,” Therese said.
It was the only order Vandal could never obey. He simply couldn’t stop. She knew he couldn’t and yet every time she demanded that he would, only to punish him when he failed to comply. With a sharp movement she pulled back her hand and pushed him away. He stumbled backwards miserably and muttered: “Forgive me, Miss Voerman.”
“Let me know how my business is doing,” Therese replied, ignoring his pleas. “I expect everything to go perfectly during my absence.”
“How long will you be gone, ma’am?” Vandal asked, breathless.
“I will not be gone,” Therese snapped. “I shall be going about my business. Now get out of my sight.”
Vandal obeyed, scrambling back to the blood bank as fast as he could. He had to go back to drop off some things, but his shift was already over. Thankfully he didn’t run into anyone in the hallways. Vandal had trouble coming across as tolerably normal as it was, when he had recently drunk it was nearly impossible.
He went home, head still swimming and heart still pounding. No matter how often he went through this he could not get used to it. It was perfect ecstasy with a side of utter torment. Therese flowed through his veins, making him invincible and infallible. With every step he felt stronger, with every breath he felt lighter. But every step brought him further away from her and every breath he took was one not used to speak her name. He was unworthy of her.
By the time he had locked his door behind him some of his thoughts were his own again. He was disgusted. He was furious. He was flawless and Therese had made him so. Vandal slammed his fist against the nearest solid object he could find. The force would have broken a human’s hand, but it was barely enough to give him enough pain to focus on. He let himself sink down on the cold floor and waited. Soon he would be in command of his own thoughts and feelings again, but for now there was nothing he could do except suffer through it. Over the years he had tried nearly everything, drugs, alcohol, whatever he could find, but nothing helped. Whatever he took, it only weakened his own control and strengthened Therese’s. He tried not to listen to the frantic voices in his head, singing her praises, and pressed his forehead against the cold floor. This was hell and Therese was his Hades and his Persephone. She was the very lifeblood in his veins and he fucking hated her.
