I. Friday night: the last embrace...

The full moon in the air that night
Revealed her flesh of milky white.
His eyes transfixed upon her nape
He knew there would be no escape.
He placed his hand upon her cheek
And whispered softly, "Dominique..."
She gazed at him yet did not scream,
Was this the dream within a dream?
Assessing with fiery eyes of death
He contemplated her final breath.
But now within a single touch
He realized his love was far too much
To let this angel go the way
Of other young and countless prey.
Tonight his piercing teeth would miss
The mark of one last fatal kiss.
Instead her neck was met with lips
As he wrapped two arms around her hips.
Her body trembled to the core
As she reached inside the nightstand drawer;
And tears betrayed the impending loss
As she clutched the nine inch Celtic cross.
Her hand came down in a raging arc
That broke the silence of the dark.
And what began in sweet caress
Lay still in utter nothingness.
She wrapped him in the deerskin hide,
His bedroom eyes so blue and wide.
Quiet on her blood stained floor,
She cried till she could cry no more.


II. Thursday night: insomnia...

A sleepless night, how long will it last?
A haunting from her violent past.
A decade since he uttered her name,
A time when she was known as "the flame"
Though less to do with her auburn hair,
As the burning pyres that filled the air
In the village where creatures walked like men;
But could she truly kill again?
Dominique was gone; she was "Nikki" now;
And as much the beauty that age would allow.
The short red cut now long and blonde,
Yet she was certain the voice was Armand -
A dangerous spirit, a seductive guise,
Flashes of piercing steel blue eyes,
Who used to watch over in times of need
Until she learned of the nightly feed.
The midnight stalkings, a lonely cry,
The blood drained victims he left to die.
He got to her more than her heart could take,
Was she just a casualty caught in the wake?
Ten years to the day now the voice was back,
Returned for love or mortal attack?
And would tomorrow be the day
She lifts her hand for a final slay?


III. Wednesday night: slumber...

She lies beneath a clear dark sky,
Tonight would be the last goodbye.
A raging tide against the shore,
She hoped that he'd be back once more.
Just once she wished the morning alarms
Would find her waking in his arms.
Another night that fades to gray,
Another dream so far away.
A requiem with another tear,
Another wish that he were here.
Another dawn, another day,
A reminder that he could never stay.
Yet he has taken all control,
Her spirit, her heart, her very soul.
She lifts a finger to the mark
That feels cold now in the dark.
Her eyes are fixed on a star above,
Elusive as her sinner's love.
Weak and naked she lies in wait,
The passion lost to a sealed fate.
Just then a gust blows through the air,
And she awakens from her mad despair.
Shivering in a dampened sheet,
She reflects upon their final meet.


IV. Tuesday night: Alana...

She exited through the side playhouse door,
Just as she did every night before.
A nameless member of a traveling cast,
She wondered how many more shows she would last.
She suddenly froze as a shadow neared,
And out from the fog the stranger appeared.
His shoulder length hair was dark as the night,
The glow in his face was pale and white.
Her five-foot frame was no match for his size,
She slowly surrendered to the spell of his eyes.
He reached for her arm as she started to fall,
Embracing her body against the stone wall.
He shielded her inside his black leather coat,
His lips moving down from her cheek to her throat.
The pain was intense yet she made not a sound,
As droplets of blood splattered onto the ground.
He tore at her blouse as her flesh became cold,
Admiring his choice of this twenty year old.
He left her lifeless face down on the curb,
In a street full of homeless no one would disturb.
By daybreak commuters would notice and stare,
Her name was Alana but there was no one to care.


V. Monday night: ten years to the day...

He came through the door of the smoky room,
A stranger in town, one might assume.
With haunting good looks and leather attire
One may have thought him a gun for hire.
He walked to the bar and stood between
Two patrons already drunk on the scene.
He focused his eyes on the end of the bar
Where the waitress was standing not very far.
It was late, and after a moment had passed,
The drunk on his left addressed him at last.
Commenting on the length of his hair,
The stranger ignored him and continued to stare
At the waitress announcing the evening's last call,
But the drunk was intent on inciting a brawl.
The stranger turned and in a flash,
The drunkard's head hit the bar with a crash.
His fractured nose began to bleed,
A most tempting sight for the stranger to heed.
He went outside and dialed the phone,
And whispered, "Dominique, are you alone?"
She knew the voice and the terror inside
Revealed the passion she could not hide.
"You have the wrong number," was her reply
And quickly hung up after saying goodbye.
He returned to the bar where the drunk was out cold
The bartender saying his return was quite bold.
With that he lifted the drunkard's head
Bit off his nose and sucked him dead.
He relished the horror, but just the same,
He left the building in the flash that he came.


VI. Ten years ago: the last goodbye...

She slowly awoke and could only remember,
Being mesmerized by the last glowing ember.
A crackling flame in the fireplace
Had cast a warm glow on his chiseled face.

She wondered how many dreams and fears
Went into this castle over 300 years.
She could not resist that last glass of wine,
A Chateau Lafite 1869.

But now her hands and feet were tied,
Confused by feelings of passion inside.
A slow rhythmic drip was the only sound
From this stone walled crypt; would she ever be found?

How much longer would he keep her alive?
Would the coroner dub her Jane Doe number five?
He sat at the table holding a quill,
The flickering candles sent her a chill.

She was wearing the chiffon evening gown,
From their night at the opera in the center of town.
He stood up and came to where she lay,
Did he know of her plans to move away?

She loved him and tonight was to be the goodbye,
But she realized now that tonight she might die.
For he knew of the burnings she left in her path,
Would she now be the victim of his virulent wrath?

She gasped as he pushed up her gown and felt
His fingers unclasping her garter belt.
His lips moved deliberately up her bare skin,
She could feel her wetness increasing within.

He caressed the satin between her thighs,
As she heard the ripping she just closed her eyes.
He moved up to her neck and straddled her now,
Submissive as far as the ties would allow.

He was deep inside her and the passion was fierce,
And then she screamed as she felt the first pierce.
He sucked on her flesh and they climaxed as one,
Removing his teeth long before he was done.

Exhausted, she slept and when she awoke,
His only trace was a black leather cloak.


VII. Ten years ago: the last goodbye... epilogue

Armand was gone as were the ties,
Eluding another untimely demise.
Her wrists were still visibly marked by the ropes,
Was it the end or beginning to her dreams and hopes?
She picked up the cloak and a little unstable,
She went over to Armand's writing table.
She found the note and still somewhat weak,
She began reading,

"My dear Dominique,
I have loved you for so very long,
But this is not where you belong.
I know you had planned to go away,
Rather than make me your final slay.
When you go upstairs, you will count, my love,
Six stones down from the mantel above.
Behind the stone is my gift to you,
It is yours for whatever you choose to do.
And one day I hope that you will see
How much you have truly meant to me.
And there will always be a bond,
Between us,
Your love in darkness,
Armand"

She rushed upstairs and removed the stone,
Feeling so very sad and alone.
She found the royal blue velvet pouch,
And emptied the contents on the couch.
The jewels caught the light and blinded her eyes,
50 cut diamonds five-karat in size.
She fell back as tears streamed down her face,
She needed to leave this gothic place.
The following morning she boarded a ship,
Bound for New York, a fourteen-day trip.
She lay on a deck chair and held on her lap,
Armand's velvet pouch and his black leather wrap.
In just a few weeks a new life would begin,
Her eyes knew the truth behind her sad grin.


VIII. Ten years ago: aftermath...

The notice arrived at the mayor's door,
To proceed as Armand had instructed before.
He was supposed to have traveled, an associate said,
Aboard the titanic and was now presumed dead.
There were only a handful of notices sent
For the reading of the last will and testament.
The mayor held up the letter and read,

"To my friends who presume that i am now dead,
I trust we will, though I know not when,
Have the occasion to be together again.
Until that day, there is much to be done,
Before you see the next rising sun.
I leave my vineyards and chateau by the shore,
To my friend and associate Lestat de Lioncourt
The remainder of my estate should I die alone
Will go to my beloved Dominique Perignon.
To honor my love, Lestat will rename
The labels of our finest champagne.
And to all my associates who have served me so well,
I bid you all a fond farewell"

Two days before, she returned to her room,
The overcast added to the cold ocean's gloom.
The note on the bed struck her hard with a fear
As she read the three words, "greetings, my dear..."
She examined the bottle he left on the table,
It was Dom Perignon, on a special gold label.


IX. Iceberg...

She closed her eyes as if to sleep,
Falling further through the cold dark deep.
The fractured bow continued to sink,
And in a dream she started to think
How she would silently rest among the dead
With the mighty ocean rushing through her head.
It was then she felt the unnatural force,
Embraced in an upward spiral course.
Was it demon or angel that held her tight?
As she emerged from the deep in the cool calm night.

He jumped in to lift her into the boat,
Sending his satchel of watches and gemstones afloat.
"You are quite lucky, my dear mademoiselle,"
He said as the boat braved another swell.
"Thank you, monsieur," she returned the smile.
They were silent as the lifeboat drifted a while.
"All to my name is right here in my pocket,"
She admired the square faced watch and the locket.
"The life of a watchmaker from the town of Marseilles,
My name is Louis Cartier.
I had hoped to open my shop, and to start
I was going to sell from a street peddler's cart.
But my watches and pendants are gone to the sea,
And who would hire an old man like me?
Now I could never recover the cost,
I am sad to say my business is lost."

She handed him the pouch and said, "s'il vous plait,
I want you to have these monsieur Cartier."
"Five karats at least if I had to measure!
Just how did you come by such a king's treasure?"
"They are mine I assure you, to do as I choose.
You saved my life and you cannot lose
The spirit and will that brought you here
To succeed at your craft that you hold so dear.
We'll work together and the world will know
Your name on your watches wherever you go.
When we get to New York please allow me to say
That you are my guardian and my name is Cartier."

Below the surface and out of sight,
A frenzy of feeding continued through the night.
A buffet by the hundreds for the creatures of dark,
The official report would say victims of shark.
Startled, she felt like she had been kissed
By an invisible lover, but it was only the mist.
Just then from the distance across the sky,
A soaring bat had caught her eye.
She stared as she breathed in the salty air,
And sensed that Armand was with her there.


X. Born to darkness...

By the time Armand turned twenty-five,
His wanton indifference barely kept him alive.
An orphan raised on his uncle's estate,
A charmed life with a sealed fate.
Armand was a Rothschild aristocrat
His only tie now was to his maker Lestat.
Born to darkness in 1909,
The last year he tasted his vineyard's best wine.
Arrogant and reckless, he was not one to run,
Even facing the wrong end of a husband's gun.
He was alone that night and getting undressed
When the fatal shot caught him square in the chest.
The gunman didn't live to see him die
His neck was broken and his blood sucked dry.
Lestat knelt beside his dying friend,
Not wanting this to be the end.
He enjoyed the lifestyle and favors that came
From befriending Armand to whom it was all a game.
He knew nothing of Lestat's darker side,
Just a dandy whose advances Armand had denied.
He looked up at Lestat and with fading breath,
Asked that he save him from this untimely death.
He whispered in his companion's ear,
"Armand, my friend, you have nothing to fear.
I will not let you die like this,"
He lifted his hand and gave it a kiss.
He caressed his cheek and cradled his head,
In another few moments he would join the undead.
Lestat lowered his mouth to the gunshot hole,
And drained Armand's blood along with his soul.
He then pricked his wrist and let Armand sip
The blood that flowed out in a steady drip.
When he awoke he no longer felt the pain,
But an unnatural spirit flowing through every vein.
Yet Lestat saw the torment in his eyes
When he knew he had seen his last sunrise.
They would sit and dine on empty plates,
And drink the blood of unsuspecting mates.
No longer would women share his bed,
His lust for life now was for killing instead.
The chateau's stone crypt now his hideaway,
Never again to see the light of day.