Four lives.

Louis would have drunk down four if he could have, that first night. He's drunk thousands since.

His fingers remain, Louis drawn along in Daniel's wake as he sinks teeth into the throat of this last mortal. Fingertips running along his scalp, grounding. Anchoring.

I'm here, whispers in the back of his head. Stay with me.

Drawing Daniel's attention, a step back from the life dwindling away between his jaws.