I. News

"Sit down, Dominique; I have troubling news."
"Did something happen to one of the crews?"
"No, child. It's rather more personal than that.
You've heard of the Parisian master Lestat?"
"Of course; Sector One has been following him,
But their efforts so far have been rather grim."
"The special surveillance report has confirmed
That Lestat now resides with a friend whom he turned.
Here's the report; do you know the address?"
She read as her face became colorless.
"How long have you known? Has the edict been drawn?
Let me go down there tomorrow at dawn."
"I'm sorry, dear child, but I can't let you go,
This case is too personal as you already know.
Renard left this morning to handle the slay,
He'll be striking at dawn; what more can I say?
Promise me, Dominique, you won't get involved."
"I'm sorry; I know that I won't be absolved,
But I have to go do this and see with my eyes,
If the man whom I love is the man I despise."
"Just leave it alone, there is nothing to gain,
Haven't you already endured enough pain?
You are a slayer and have taken a vow,
Obstruction is something I cannot allow."
"You've been like a father, but I do love him still,
If you cannot forgive me, I know my God will."



II. Slay

"And your poor little weepy-eyed, Dominique,
Did you know that she wrote to you every week?
Reading her letters wasn't nearly as fun,
As the pleasure I got burning every last one.
She was walking around with her heart on her sleeve,
Trying to figure out why you would leave.
Did I mention your love is a slayer as well?
She's sent a whole bunch of your friends off to hell.
An exceptional student from an earlier day,
When I taught her to fuck and to live through a slay.
Look at you now, what a waste of a life,
I should end it all here with a stake and a knife.
But I love souvenirs from the famous undead,
So first I will cut off your legs and your head.
But what to cut first? How shall I decide?
Why not a coin toss to act as my guide!
It's a shame that I missed your companion Lestat,
But I have to say how much I enjoyed our chat."

Just as his fingers flipped up the gold coin,
The spring-loaded crossbow shot into his groin.
He lowered his eyes to the blood seeping stain,
And shrieked at the horror, collapsing in pain.
From out of the shadows she slowly emerged,
And moved to her prey as the fury now surged.
She stood over him with her heel on his throat.
Thinking about all the letters she wrote.
She pulled out her dagger to finish the kill,
The way he had taught her in a hand-to-hand drill.
"DON'T," came the voice she had wanted to hear,
In more than her dreams for well over a year.
"Take off these chains then go upstairs and wait,
Your friend and I have a few points to debate."
She freed Armand and in the dim candlelight,
She could see his complexion was now pasty white.
Their eyes met; she lifted her hand to his face,
Feeling the passion time could not erase.
She leaned into him as he stood by the wall,
Tracing his wounds from the earlier brawl.
"Go now, my love, and please leave us alone."
As she walked up the staircase she heard Renard groan.

From down in the crypt she could hear Renard's cries,
But all she could think of were the schemes and the lies.
Then there was silence; and when she looked up,
Armand stood before her with a blood flowing cup.


III. Dream

The curtains were drawn yet the first signs of light
Reminded the slayer she had been up all night.
Renard was now dead yet she didn't much care,
She blamed him for all of her pain and despair.
The man that she loved was now destined to be
Imprisoned to darkness eternally.
Sooner or later she would have to respond
To an order to slay her beloved Armand.
He slowly approached and was calling her name,
She wished just this once that she wasn't The Flame.
Closer and closer; he was whispering now,
She was sixteen again and remembering her vow.
Falling in deep to the spell of his eyes,
His voice was a spirit of fatal demise.
Closer and closer; she was trying to forget,
Cursing the day that the two of them met.
"Dominique," the voice seemed to resonate,
From the lips she had lost to a somber fate.
His voice was inside her; her passion alight,
And all she could do now was close her eyes tight.
"Nikki," he called in a heavier tone,
Without him life wasn't worth living alone.
"WAKE UP DOMINIQUE, YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"
He kissed her goodbye, "your lecture's at eight."
She opened her eyes and sat up in bed,
Feeling the pounding in the back of her head.
She remembered last night how she weathered the cold,
With the warmth of his body and some Cuervo Gold.
She looked at the clock; it was now 7:10,
She knew she was going to be late again.
She stood and relaxed in the shower's hot stream,
Thinking about the indelible dream.
The slaying, the Bishop, the fires - all gone,
Next month she will graduate from the Sorbonne.
She turned off the water and went back to bed,
Deciding to spend the day resting instead.
She reached for an aspirin in the night stand drawer,
Vowing she would never do shots anymore.
Just as she pondered the undead and the slayed,
She pricked her finger on what felt like a blade.
She looked in the drawer as she brushed back her hair,
Removing a crossbow with the greatest of care.
Under the bow with its strings neatly tied,
Was a blue velvet pouch filled with diamonds inside.
Attached to the string was a hand written note,
"Greetings, my dear..." was all that he wrote.

He awoke to the sound of the slamming door,
And the footsteps that followed on the stone crypt floor.
He often endured the recurring theme
Of this tormenting dream within a dream.
Clinging to mementos of irrecoverable days,
And haunted by the consequence of reckless ways.
From the day she left and was bound for the States,
He conspires a reunion but for now he just waits.
The coffin opened with the sound of a creak,
"You're back, Lestat, it's been over a week."
"I couldn't spoil your tete a tete
With that brutish Renard and your little slaymate.
I ran into a friend while traveling abroad,
He'll be staying a while; Armand, meet Jean-Claude."


IV. Return

One could not deny Jean-Claude's beauty and charm,
A laugh so infectious and enough to disarm.
Like a man in his 20's, three centuries wise,
With shoulder length hair and dark ocean blue eyes.
A silk ruffled shirt with a wide feathered hat;
He moved like a dancer, with the grace of a cat.
His black leather boots climbed his legs to the knees,
A nocturnal lover who knew just how to please.
From what he had learned of Armand's fleeting past,
He suspected Lestat had a hand in the cast.
He extended his hand to Armand as he rose,
Deciding how much of his past to disclose.

"The castle hasn't changed much in 300 years,
Nor the scars on the back of a little boy's fears;
I can see the resemblance in your face and your eyes,
And a vampire in the family comes as no surprise;
A pedigree of bloodsuckers of a different kind
And a more ruthless clan you'd be hard pressed to find;
The son of a peasant, I was sold like a pet,
As payment in full for my poor father's debt.
A companion I was, to the manor's young son,
And a whipping boy for all of the mischievous done.
They locked me down here and in darkness I'd weep,
How fitting this crypt is your chamber to sleep.
When I was Embraced, I could no longer stay;
And though I was schooled in the charmed gentry way,
I was never accepted to the manor born,
But after 300 years, I don't harbor much scorn."

"Though I cannot repair the inequities done,
I welcome you back as a native son.
My castle is yours for as long as you stay,
So please be my guest 'til you go on your way. "

"Thank you, Armand, you are gracious indeed,
Perhaps you will come out tonight for a feed.
Lestat has other plans so I am on my own,
And I'd rather you joined me than go out alone.
I know you are still getting used to the drill,
And Lestat tells me you have a rather strong will.
There's a maiden in town that I'd like you to meet,
A mortal whom I refer to as 'ma petite.'
Her passion for darkness is enough to delight,
An old vampire like me on a cold windy night.
So put on your cloak and let's go paint the town."

"Alright, Jean-Claude, I will be right down."