Given the noise of the world, Daniel is right to imagine the chances of Armand finding his kill and attributing it as a message, or a gift, is low.
Except it isn't low. It's found like fresh rainwater collected in the leaves on a desert island, unlikely but looked for.
It justifies a return to America.
When vampires find little to live for, but don't yearn for death either, they go to the ground. They bury themselves and become as corpses until something awakens them. Armand has seen it a few times, here and there, and can't fathom it as anything but a kind of annihilation. He is not certain there would be anything now or in the future that would compel him to rise again. He's not sure how the others manage it.
But he does slip the leash of existence, some, once he lands again. Money, properties, assets dropped, discarded, to be picked up later, maybe. The sun can't hurt him and his ancient metabolism makes infrequent demands of him. He is in stasis without trying. He goes to where this grifter was killed.
And pulls something taut, as if testing distance. Daniel, not so far away. And now Daniel knows, he too isn't so far away.
Daniel has rented a car for his scenic route, and upon collecting it as the dusk darkens to night, the sound of a heartbeat from within the trunk greets him. Inside, a gift: here is a young-ish man in last night's club outfit. His hands and feet are secured in zipties, and shreds of fabric have been stuffed into his mouth, knotted in place. The MDMA in his system can't have been from a full twelve hours ago, still bright in his blood.
In a pocket, a little page fragment, an excerpt out of Journey to the End of the Night. Torn out as if along the edge of a ruler.
no subject
Except it isn't low. It's found like fresh rainwater collected in the leaves on a desert island, unlikely but looked for.
It justifies a return to America.
When vampires find little to live for, but don't yearn for death either, they go to the ground. They bury themselves and become as corpses until something awakens them. Armand has seen it a few times, here and there, and can't fathom it as anything but a kind of annihilation. He is not certain there would be anything now or in the future that would compel him to rise again. He's not sure how the others manage it.
But he does slip the leash of existence, some, once he lands again. Money, properties, assets dropped, discarded, to be picked up later, maybe. The sun can't hurt him and his ancient metabolism makes infrequent demands of him. He is in stasis without trying. He goes to where this grifter was killed.
And pulls something taut, as if testing distance. Daniel, not so far away. And now Daniel knows, he too isn't so far away.
Daniel has rented a car for his scenic route, and upon collecting it as the dusk darkens to night, the sound of a heartbeat from within the trunk greets him. Inside, a gift: here is a young-ish man in last night's club outfit. His hands and feet are secured in zipties, and shreds of fabric have been stuffed into his mouth, knotted in place. The MDMA in his system can't have been from a full twelve hours ago, still bright in his blood.
In a pocket, a little page fragment, an excerpt out of Journey to the End of the Night. Torn out as if along the edge of a ruler.