Work Text:
I don’t need you, come in smaller portions
I will find devotion somewhere else
I’ve been searching for a lighthouse
I’ve been swimming head up then down
-Lighthouse, Akine
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“Fuck,” Celeste says upon waking on the marble floor, body aching in a way that reminded her of when she was fifteen and a track star.
Back then—when she wore her pain as a trophy and could smile through the stress fracture in her right knee if it meant she would get even a scrap of praise from her parents, her body nothing but a vehicle for dreams that did not belong to her—an ache would be savored. But Celeste hasn’t been that girl in a long time. Pain only brings the trauma of her childhood to the surface, breaking the still waters of her conscience with a shuddering exhale.
Forcing herself to rise into a sitting position, the haze of insentience suddenly bleeds into alertness at the cloying scent of dead blood. Celeste gags, throwing a hand over her mouth and nose. She had never been surrounded by this many dead bodies at once. It looked like she was the only one left alive—but hopefully Guillermo and Sam had survived too, assuming Houston wouldn’t have bothered to pick them off once they escaped the apartment.
“Houston?” Celeste calls out, expecting the vampire child to be somewhere around the corner, an iPad in hand, ready to add further insult to injury. Why else would Houston let her live other than to torture her further?
She didn’t have that close of a relationship with her vampiric master. It was almost impossible with a vampire like Houston, jaded with her lot as a physically eternal child, unable to shake off the cobwebbed vestments of childhood no matter how long she lived. Houston was both jealous and critical of Celeste, of the way she could grow older, able to wear the years of her life in the crinkle of her crow’s feet and barest hint of grey hair near the crown of her head. She would almost feel pity for the vampire if she could, if pity didn’t automatically result in the life being drained out of her.
The thing about vampires turned at a young age was that their age would always be a tetchy subject—the subject most likely to result in a dead familiar and an unmarked grave. Celeste still thought about the other familiar that lasted a few months as Houston’s ‘father.’ He was nice enough, but had been awful at the grisly aspects of the job. It was no wonder that Houston snapped his neck after an off-hand comment about enrolling her in grade school, something that he probably meant as a joke, but served as good of an excuse as anything for the vampire to end her contract with the man… permanently.
Celeste could almost hear Houston now—the girlish voice of a twelve-year old tempered by an ancient, deathless stare.
“Poor Celeste… did you really think I’d let you live after a stunt like that?”
But there is no answering voice. The apartment is as quiet as a sepulcher. It is only when she goes to bite her lip and winces in pain at the lancing sharpness of her left canine that she notices the twin pinpricks on her wrist. They easily shone through the clotted blood that coated her arm. Celeste licks the blood from her slowly healing lip, surprised to find that it tasted as metallic and bitter as it did when she was human.
So she had been turned. She should be happy—it’s all she’s ever wanted since she found out that vampires existed. So where was the elation? Where was the urge to explore her powers, to turn into a bat, to hypnotize some hapless human, to bite into an unyielding throat? Why did she only feel a near nauseating sense of dread?
**
It’s a stupid idea, but it was also a marginally better idea than waiting another few nights alone in a corpse-covered apartment for her master—sire, Celeste corrects, the realization sending a cold child down her spine.
She rings the doorbell, the whistling chime almost whimsical in comparison to the dreary rainy night.
There are a few moments of muffled bickering before the door swings open.
“Celeste?” Guillermo asks, brows furrowing. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Hey, Guillermo…” Celeste replies, flashing her fangs in a bashful grin. What a picture she must make, she thinks, covered head-to-toe in blood that wasn’t her own. “Do you mind inviting me in?”
**
Nandor closes the door to the library once Guillermo and Celeste shuffle in.
Celeste steadies the towel wrapped over her hair with one hand as she takes a seat in an armchair. The hot shower had been wonderfully therapeutic in her newly undead state, the water warming away the chill that had burrowed deep into her marrow. She could feel it creeping in again now, the unnatural coldness that reminded her faintly of splashing into a pool or walking through the rain.
Nandor and Guillermo sit opposite of her on the chaise lounge, just enough space between them to keep from accidentally brushing against each other.
The old Celeste, the human one, would have made a teasing comment. But she is no longer human and her body still aches as if she’s sick with the flu and all of her charisma and charm has seemingly been drained out of her along with her blood.
Celeste tunes in and out of the ensuing conversation, letting Nandor prattle on about vampire-this and vampire-that. Exhaustion had finally set in, making it a monumental effort to not simply pass out in the chair. Despite this, she was still catching the gist of what the vampire was saying.
Nandor knew all along that Celeste wasn’t a vampire until, well, now. A blatant lie. Guillermo had given her a brief synopsis of what occurred when he ran from the apartment with Sam. He had told her all this after handing her some towels and a spare set of sleepwear from one of the female familiars of Nadja and Laszlo’s that died recently. It was apparent that Nandor had been oblivious about Celeste’s ruse until Guillermo admitted the truth.
Celeste was newly turned—most likely by Houston. Duh.
Other vampires had found out about the carnage at the apartment from Houston herself. Yikes.
They were not happy about their familiars being tricked and then killed. Obviously.
“Yes,” Nandor continues, oblivious to the fact that Celeste hasn’t really been listening to anything he’s said for the last five minutes or so. “So many vampires were angry with your Master. But vampires cannot go killing other vampires for the sake of their familiars.”
Guillermo gives something like an amused snort and meets Nandor’s gaze. A brief flicker of a smile slips past the vampire’s lips before he grows serious again. Celeste is, once again, reminded of just how close Guillermo and his master are.
When Nandor had showed up at her apartment door to see Guillermo when Celeste was still just pretending to be a vampire, it had struck her as unusual. None of the other familiars’ ex-masters came to visit them. At the time, she had been more worried about Nandor realizing she wasn’t actually a real vampire than psychoanalyzing the relationship between Guillermo and his awkward vampiric master. The fake blood vaping had been risky, but it had done the job—older vampires were too out of touch with the modern world to even really question it.
“As I was saying… vampires would prefer killing humans in place of an actual vampire. And since you had tricked all their familiars into coming to work for you in the first place, they would have retaliated against you instead of Houston.”
In some bizarre way, Houston had turned her to protect her, Celeste realizes.
“So, basically vamps would have come for my head if I was still human?”
Nandor nods. “More or less. Now that there are no humans to blame, I am not sure what the other vampires might do. Will they go after you or Houston? Or, a third option: will they perhaps go and put all this energy into something productive like finding replacement familiars? It’s not like there is a shortage of humans looking to be vampires or anything.”
Celeste mulls it over in her head. Houston had fled soon after turning her. She had assumed it had been an obvious sign of abandonment. But what if it wasn’t? When Guillermo leads her to the spare coffins in the basement all Celeste can think about is that she needs to find Houston—wherever she was.
“Good night, Celeste,” Guillermo says softly, hands resting on the edge of the coffin.
Before she can think better of it, Celeste leans forward, placing her hand gently over Guillermo’s knuckles. It’s the first time that she notices the blood on his hands—as if he had just gotten into a fight. Perhaps a victim had gotten a bit rowdy? It wouldn’t surprise her if that were the case. “Thank you, Guillermo. Really. For everything, And I’m sorry about before—I shouldn’t have lied to you. I hope I can make it up to you eventually.”
Guillermo chuckles. “Well, if you ever wanted to turn me into a vampire—“
Celeste interrupts him with a wave of her hand. “Sorry, but that’s one thing I can’t do. I think it’d be more meaningful if Nandor did that, y’know? You two seem really close.” She pats his hand in apology before reaching up to shut the coffin lid.
She can hear Guillermo amble away with a tired sigh, the sound of his heart echoing up the stairwell.
It was a good reminder that she also needed to find her first meal soon—otherwise, Guillermo was looking particular tasty and she didn’t want to kill him. Of all the people that came to the familiar gatherings, Guillermo had been the only one who had actively tried to help her when she vented about her issues with corpse disposal.
And, secretly, she thought that Nandor would probably kill her if she so much as took a little sip from his familiar.
**
So Celeste goes searching for her ex-master.
She tries all of Houston’s favorite feeding spots to no avail. She gets a few good meals in though—so far, she’s only killed morally bankrupt men, but that’s less of a conscious choice and more of a pleasant byproduct of trying to trace Houston’s steps.
Questions of morality had never been high on her list when she thought about being a vampire, but somehow, she’s managed to exist as a blood-drinking creature of the night without straying too far from conventional human norms. No one would honestly bat an eye at her killing perverts and murderers—they might try and take some higher moral stance, but at the end of the day, didn’t everyone secretly dream of being able to do what she was doing? Killing the worst of the worst with no fear of ramification or death?
It’s almost funny to think that her moral compass had been arguably worse as a human than it was as a newly turned vampire.
Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months before she finally tracks down Houston. On a whim, she had tried the park where she had first met Houston nearly a decade ago, back when she was still young and starry-eyed and adamant on finally meeting a vampire that would take her on as a familiar.
Celeste approaches the park bench once the man Houston was feeding on is long dead. The other vampire tosses the body to the ground like a sack of feathers as she looks at her pink, manicured nails in a show of obvious boredom.
“Celeste,” the girl says, intonation flat and unreadable. Her blond hair is pulled into a high ponytail, but a few stray locks have managed to escape the polka-dotted scrunchie.
Celeste resists the urge to reach out and fix the subtle fly-aways. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was that she had always made sure that Houston looked presentable—making sure she dressed for her age while blending in with the current human trends. She knows how particular Houston was with her hair, how it was the one true aspect of her physical image that she loved. While most vampires hated that their reflection could not be seen in a mirror, Houston had likely seen it as a gift as the years rolled away and she remained unchanged, Celeste imagined.
“Houston,” she replies, the name fitting uncomfortably in her mouth. There was a slight thrill in calling her by name, but Celeste refuses to let it show. She gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “I always knew you liked this park the best.”
“Whatever. Is there something you want? Or did you decide to stalk me for fun?”
Celeste frowns. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t think I need to do anything.”
“Look,” Celeste sighs, feeling her patience wear thin. Houston wasn’t really a child by any means, but she still managed to push her buttons in the way only a child could. “I’m sorry that I pretended to be a vampire and set this whole shit-show into motion, but I was tired. As much as I care about you, I was tired of being strung along. I just wanted to feel what it was like to be a vampire, even if it was only for a little while.”
Houston is silent for a long time before she speaks, eyes glowing silver in the moonlight. “You really thought I wouldn’t turn you?”
Celeste almost thought she heard a hint of sadness in Houston’s voice. She folds her arms over her chest. “No vampire turns their familiar. We all know it’s true.”
“You’re right. No vampire turns their familiar. You were fired the moment I realized what sort of stunt you pulled while I was away.”
Celeste smiles. That was as close as Houston got to joking around with her in months. “Thank you, Houston. For turning me instead of letting me get ripped apart by a bunch of angry, familiar-less vampires.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Houston replies coldly, rising from the wooden bench without sparing Celeste a glance.
Celeste immediately deflates. It didn’t matter what she thought. It didn’t matter that she wanted Houston to teach her all about being a vampire. If Houston wanted to abandon her, to continue to be a dead-beat sire and leave Celeste to her own devices, she couldn’t stop her.
“Are you coming or not?” Houston snaps, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. The vampire’s voice, pitched higher into a familiar whine, brought back a flood of memories. Most were good, despite everything. Houston had already turned away, ponytail swishing down her back, but Celeste likes to think that the vampire is trying to hide a smile.
It’s only when she easily matches Houston’s strides to walk beside her that Celeste grins widely, showing off her fangs. Houston rolls her eyes at Celeste’s giddy expression.
“Of course.”
It’s still too early to tell, but Celeste can imagine that in a couple of years—or maybe decades, depending on how stubborn Houston decides to be—she could make her dream of having a vampire commune a reality. She’d hand-pick familiars that she would want to turn into vampires to live with her in her coven, making a community with all the outlandish things she had said she wanted when she pretended to be a vampire—even the vampire origami and vampire math. The only difference from what she envisioned in her daydreams being that Houston was there with her.