Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Vampire Chronicles – The Interview ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

 

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Vampire Chronicles - The Interview

Chapter 4

“Not again!” Milliardo cursed and hit the dashboard with his fist as his car's engine suddenly died on him. As far as he could tell he was within a mile or less from the spot where the Ferrari had stalled the night before.

Well, at least this time I know the way, he thought sardonically as he removed the key from the ignition and climbed out of the car. The young man pulled out the emergency kit go grab the flashlight, only to find that the spot where it should have been was empty. Damn, tonight is not my night, is it?

He looked up into the night sky. A full moon was shining brightly and there was not a single cloud in sight. Looks like I'll be fine even without a light.

The journalist found what looked like a narrow path and started to follow it. If he was lucky it was going to lead him directly to Deerwood manor. After about fifteen minutes he slowed down and gazed around warily. For some reason he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Nonsense, he tried to tell himself. Because you know Treize was out here last night watching you, you imagine someone is here again.

Then there was a noise; it was the quiet cracking sound of a dry twig breaking beneath someone's footsteps. The journalist held his step, and suddenly two figures separated themselves from the shadows of the trees and he found himself facing two young men, about his age. One of them was brunet the other had short-cropped, blond hair. In the pale moonlight Milliardo noticed that both of their eyes were the color of amber, and the way they studied him sent a cold shiver down his spine.

“My my, what do we have here, Alex? I think we found ourselves a delicious meal.”

There are more of them? Milliardo swallowed as he slowly started to back away. No, definitely not my night.

“Mueller, you have no manners at all. Look what you did. You frightened him. Let me show you how it is done,” the other man's voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Hello Gorgeous, would you like to join us for dinner? And I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer,” he sneered, exposing a set of large fangs, while his companion burst out in laughter.

The journalist was still moving backward and the same time he reached into his pocket. He wasn't that stupid that we would have returned to this place without taking any precautions. Lucky for him the local gift store carried a nice selection of Christian jewelry and ornaments.

“You are hungry?” he asked as the man took another step toward him. “Then why don't you try your chops on this...?” He pulled out a silver cross and pointed it toward the vampire.

Alex hissed as he jerked back and Milliardo managed a smirk. Humans 1: Vampires 0

“That was a dirty trick,” the creature snarled. And as the moonlight reflected in those amber-colored eyes they sparkled with fury and ferocity.

The reporter's mouth was dry as desert sand. He threw a quick gaze over his shoulder, trying to consider if he should run or not. But run where; back to his car or toward the mansion?

Suddenly the blond vampire moved, so fast that it was all but a blur for Milliardo. He steeled himself, determined to not give up without a fight. But before he even knew what happened something hit the back of his neck hard enough to knock him out on the spot

“Nice move.” Alex grinned as the journalist collapsed onto the forest floor.

“Thanks.” his partner returned. “But you know the rules. I took him down, I get the first bite.”

“Alright, alright, just hurry up, I'm starving.”

The blond vampire ran his tongue over his fangs as he crouched down next to the unconscious young man. Suddenly there was some movement, something like a big, dark shadow shifting about. Mueller was picked up and tossed aside like a rag-doll. He flew several feet before he crashed into a tree and crumbled to the ground, dazed and confused.

Then a tall, tawny-haired figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Alex's eyes went wide as he recognized the master vampire. Treize slowly reached out, grabbed him by his throat and lifted him up like he weighed nothing.

“So, we meet again. I thought I'd told you not to set foot into my territory again.”

Alex snorted and tried to throw his head back in a gesture of defiance, but it was difficult to look dignified while dangling two feet over the ground.

“You are lucky, you caught me in a good mood tonight, so I'll let you live… for now.”

Meanwhile Mueller had regained his senses. With a low, angry growl he tried to stagger back to his feet. He was still kneeling when his gaze fell upon a thick, three-feet-long piece of wood. One side of the stick had a sharp and pointy edge, making it a perfect stake. He reached out. But before he could get his hands on the weapon he felt the coldness of a steel blade against his neck.

“Do you really want to die?” a voice asked almost softly.

Treize turned his head to see what was going on behind his back. Mueller was on his hands and knees, frozen, with Quatre's rapier pressed firmly against his throat, while Trowa was crouching down next to the unconscious journalist. The tawny-haired man dropped Alex like a sack of potatoes.

“Take your partner and get out of my sight, now,” he told him. “But mark my word; if I ever see either of you on my land again I'll rip out your heart and make you watch while I feed it to my dogs.” The threat was only intensified by the fact that the master vampire delivered it without even raising his voice. “Let him go, Quatre,” he ordered.

The blond complied. He pulled back the weapon but stopped short of sheathing it, just in case. But neither of the two rogue vampires seemed inclined to fight for their prey. As they took off, Treize turned toward Trowa. “How is he doing?”

“He is unconscious, but I can't see any wounds. So, I guess that's a good thing. I'll carry him back to the manor.”

“I'll take him.” Treize replied, his voice leaving no room for argument.

#

“Oh my, the wine really was a little strong it seems.”

“I'm sorry.”

He could feel a strong arm around his waist just as the world around him started to fade into black. When he regained his senses he was lying sprawled out on a very soft and comfortable surface. He could feel someone's presence and when he opened his eyes Treize was leaning over him, wearing only a pristine, white shirt with his black trousers. Startled he tried to move away but a pair of powerful hands grabbed his shoulders and held him in place, firmly but without force.

“Relax!” Treize told him. “This won't hurt much, trust me.”

There was something in his voice that made Milliardo believe him. He closed his eyes as the tawny-haired vampire dipped his head. He winced and dug his fingers into the soft, silky sheets as powerful jaws clamped down on his neck. There was a moment of sharp pain as those fangs broke the skin, but it only lasted for a few seconds before being replaced by a feeling of intense bliss like he had never experienced it before. A faint smell of blood reached his nose as the vampire started to feed.

Milliardo moaned. Without even knowing what he was doing he reached up. One of his hands found its way beneath Treize's shirt and started to explore the vampire's soft skin.

After a few moments Treize pulled back with a content smile. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over the long puncture wound, which almost instantly closed and his ministration.

“You are so beautiful and so tasty too.” he purred, as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees.

Milliardo, still riding the wave of rapture induced by the vampire's bite, looked up at him with half-lidded, pleasure clouded eyes...

Milliardo slowly started to stir. First his senses returned, then his memory. He was lying on his back on something soft; a pillow was propped under his head. The last thing he remembered was being attacked in the woods by two…vampires. Even now the thought that such creatures actually existed seemed outlandish. Where am I? Am I dead

He slowly opened his eyes and found himself lying in a large, four poster bed. The room seemed familiar, he realized as he let his gaze wander. This is Deerwood manor, isn't it? How did I get here?

Milliardo sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his neck which was still sore from when he had been hit during the attack. Whoever had brought him here and put him onto this bed had also removed his shoes. They were sitting neatly arranged, next to the nightstand.

The reporter rose, slipped on his shoes and tiptoed to the door. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened for a few moments. When he didn't hear anything he reached for the door handle. It almost surprised him to find that he wasn't locked in. Slowly and cautiously Milliardo opened the door. He listened again and looked around. Everything was quiet, almost as though he was alone in the large house.

He slipped out of his room and down the stairs. His gaze fell onto the heavy, oak door at the entrance. If he had wanted he could have just walked out, right then and there. But there was something that stopped him; reminded him that he had come here for a reason.

As he looked around he noticed another flight of stairs, leading down into... what he assumed to be the basement. The staircase itself lay in the dark but Milliardo could see flickering lights from below. Curiosity got the better of him and he carefully made his way down. His jaw almost dropped as he reached the foot of the stairs and found himself in a large, candlelit room. The walls were covered with dark tapestries and in the center of the room stood several large coffins.

It's a crypt!

Of course in a normal crypt one wouldn't expect to find the coffins open. Milliardo hesitated before moving closer. He held his step in front of the coffin in the center. It was the largest of the three and most the decorated one; carved from some kind of dark wood and lined with deep red velvet. The young man reached out and let his fingertips run over the soft lining, amazed and somewhat terrified at the same time.

“Tsk, Tsk, sneaking into other people's bedrooms...”

That voice! Milliardo jerked around with a start.

The tawny-haired vampire was standing at the foot of the stairs, a half amused, half mocking smirk on his lips.

“Don't come any closer!” the journalist warned as Treize took a step toward him. “I did some research. I know who... what you are.”

“And what exactly would that be?” the vampire took another step, and Milliardo reached into his pocket.

“Are you looking for your cross? I'm afraid you dropped it in the woods. You'll have to forgive me for not picking it up and bringing it along.”

“So you did bring me here?” The reporter was only conforming what he had suspected all along.

“But of course. I could not just leave you there, could I? This is the second time now. Don't you ever listen when people try to warn you? I thought I made it clear last night how dangerous the forest can be at this hour.”

Milliardo snorted. “Oh yes, you are a real Good Samarian, aren't you? For all I know you might have sent those two… creatures to attack me.”

“And why would I do that? What makes you even think that I have anything to do with them.”

“Why wouldn't you? After all, they are vampires, just like you.”

“Vampires, yes.” Treize confirmed as he settled down on the edge of one of the coffins. “Like me, I think not. We call them rogues.”

“Rogues?” Milliardo echoed. Part of him was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was standing here, having a conversation with a vampire.

“Yes, vampires exiled by their own clan. They are shunned by anyone else, so they become outsiders without territory and without status.”

“Exiled for what?”

“For some type of crime they committed.” The tawny-haired vampire shrugged. “Believe it or not, but we do live by strict laws. Break those laws and you will be punished. Exile is one of the harshest and most feared punishments. It is only used in severe cases.”

“What do vampires consider crimes?” The reporter snorted. “Murder doesn't seem to be one of them? You killed those girls I was with last night, didn't you?”

“That's a pretty harsh accusation. Considering that I opened my house to the three of you. Why would I want to kill them?”

“Because that's what vampires do, isn't it; kill people, feed on their blood?”

“Oh right, I forgot, you are an expert on vampires, right? You did research. Please enlighten me, what exactly does that mean? …aside from reading a few books and articles, written by people who never in their life even met one of us.”

Milliardo blinked. Did he detect a hint of bitterness and resentment in the vampire's voice?

“Well then, if I'm so wrong about this. You won't mind explaining a few things to me, would you? After all, what's better then hearing things from the hors…um vampire's mouth?”

Treize hesitated, but after a few moments he nodded. “Very well. But perhaps we should go upstairs were we can get a little more comfortable.”

“Fine.” The reporter agreed. He had to admit that he felt anything but comfortable down here.

“After you!” His `host' suggested with a polite gesture toward the stairs.

“No, after you.” Milliardo insisted.

The vampire shrugged and walked upstairs ahead of the blond journalist. They reached the first floor just as Treize's two companions, or `caregivers' how he had called them, came walking down the hall.

“Sire, there you are. We were looking for you.”

“Ah, Trowa; or was it Trinton, I forgot?!” the journalist remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Depends on who is asking,” the dark-haired vampire shot back.

“You have got to forgive his manors; he gets always a little… grumpy if he doesn't get enough sleep.” Treize remarked casually. “You two are going out?”

“Yes, we are going to make another round. If those two haven't fed yet they might actually return.”

“Good thinking.” The older vampire nodded seriously. “But be mindful, I don't trust them. And let Otto know to keep his eyes open during the day as well.”

“Yes, Sire.” Trowa acknowledged.

“Wait a second, you mean Deputy Otto also…he is…” Milliardo was so stunned he almost forgot to close his mouth.

“A vampire? Of course not.” Treize looked at him as if he had suggested that the moon was made of cheese.

“But he knows about this…about what you are?”

“That, I'm afraid, is something you'll have ask him about.”

#

“Can I get you something to drink?” Treize asked as he and the reporter settled down in the sitting room.

“No thanks, I think I pass. Somehow your wine didn't agree with me last night.”

The vampire chuckled. “I hope you are not suggesting that I had anything to do with that.”

Gods, he is so smooth. But then again he had a long time to practice, didn't he? Milliardo tried to tell himself to see this as just another interview, and not to let himself be fooled by the other man's silver tongue.

“You said you would be answering my questions honestly, right?”

“I'll try my best.”

“Alright, I'd like you to explain to me… If you are not killing them, why have people been dying right and left ever since you got here?”

“My dear Milliardo…I hope you don't mind me calling you that...” Treize draped one leg over the other and leaned back in his armchair. “People are dying everywhere, every day. That's part of human life, isn't it?”

Milliardo scowled at him. “You know exactly what I mean. I'm not talking about those who died of natural causes. I mean those whose deaths have been considered accidents. And please don't try to tell me again that they are all but a bunch of rumors and urban legends made up to please the tourists who come here to get scared. I'm talking about people like Nikolai Korsakov, Maria Perkins...”

“You have no idea how wrong you are if you think that I had anything to do with their deaths. Nikolai had always been careless. It was surprising that he didn't get killed earlier, if you ask me. Trust me; I'd know what I am talking about. He was my cousin after all. He was a drinker, a gambler and a womanizer. And when he returned from the tavern night after night, drunk as a pig, he insisted on riding his own horse rather than renting a carriage - did I mention he was cheap too? Back then this was quite common though, you could compare it with drunk-driving accidents nowadays.
As for Maria, if you want to hold someone responsible for her death, blame society who judged her too harshly. Her only crime was to fall in love with a man who didn't have an ounce of honor.”

“Yeah, but why wasn't there any blood found where she died?”

The vampire gave another shrug. “I'm no medial examiner, but if I remember right she died in the woods and it was raining that night. The blood had probably been washed away and seeped into the ground by the time she was found.”

Milliardo's eyes narrowed. He has an explanation for everything, doesn't he? “Fine, I'll give you that one. But what about Alfredo Rossellini; the roofer who died right here at this estate? The doctor found bite marks on his neck. How are you going to explain those away?”

“Bite marks?”

“A pair of strange puncture wounds in the back of his neck…” the reporter quoted.

“Those? Those were no bite marks.” Treize huffed. “Alfredo was nailing down support beams for the shingles on the roof. The poor man probably grabbed on to one of them when he lost his footing. But when he fell the plank came loose and dropped to the ground. He landed on it and impaled himself on a pair of nails sticking from the wood.”

Milliardo wasn't convinced. “The doctor never mentioned that in his report.”

“Of course not. By the time he arrived we had lifted the man up and carried him into the house. You don't believe me, do you?”

“I'm not sure,” the young man admitted.

“Fair enough.” The vampire spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. “But allow me to ask you one question. Why would I want to kill any of those people in the first place? As you mentioned earlier, we live on human blood. Killing those who provide what we need to survive would make as much sense, as for a dairy farmer to slaughter the cows that give him milk.”

Milliardo's eyes narrowed as he glared at Treize. The idea of being compared to a dairy cow did not go over too well.

“I'm sorry,” the vampire smiled wryly. “Not the best comparison, I realize.”

“But a point well taken,” the journalist admitted. “So, you are saying that you or your men had nothing to do with those deaths, or the deaths of the two girls from last night”

Treize shook his head. “Absolutely nothing. We took the three of you back to your cars before sunrise and under normal circumstances the two of them would have never remembered anything about the night and their stay here.”

The two of them... Milliardo frowned. What about me? Was I supposed to remember?

The vampire smiled softly, as though he was able to guess what the young man was thinking. “Like I mentioned, we don't get many interesting visitors out here. Usually there are two kinds of people; either those who are for one reason or another obsessed with us, or on the other side of the spectrum, those who are scared to death. Either way, they are usually utterly boring. But the moment I met you I knew you were different.”

Milliardo huffed. “So you spread little clues around like breadcrumbs, knowing I would pick them up and start looking for more.”

“I apologize, but you can't' blame me for wanting to see you again, can yon? And tell me, would you have believed me if I'd have told you the truth last night?”

“You played me!” the reporter accused. “You were in control the whole time, weren't you? And you are doing it again. I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions, remember?”

Treize sighed. “Very well, what other questions do you have?”

“If not you, could it be that those two... Rogues had anything to do with Sylvia and Hilde's deaths?”

“I seriously doubt it. They have been causing trouble for a few weeks now, but Trowa had traced their tracks to the southern part of my territory. He was following their trail that morning, that's why he was still awake when the accident happened. And I'm afraid that's all it was, just a terrible accident.”

It is possible, he had to admit. The streets were still wet from the rain that morning, hitting some standing water, loosing control; it could have happened that way. It would not have been the first time and not the last for sure. Dr. Po's finding of massive blood loss due to internal injures and series head trauma fit the scenario too. And for some reason Milliardo felt some sense of relief. Not that it made any difference, it didn't bring the girls back or anything, but at least he knew it didn't have anything to do with him hinging them to this house. What that what he was really out to proof? This wasn't about vampires or serial killers, it was about his own feelings of guilt, he suddenly realized.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, “he nodded. “I'm fine. But since we are still talking about accidents; what about your own; the one that was supposed to have killed you five years ago.”

Treize looked surprised for a few moments then laughed. “Oh that?! I wouldn't exactly call it an 'accident'. It was more an attempted murder, I guess.”

Milliardo blinked in surprise. Now that was a little unexpected. “Are you saying that hunter meant to shoot you?”

“Well, most hunters I know don't have silver bullets in their guns when they are tracking deer.”

Silver bullets?! “A silver bullet is one of the few things that can kill a vampire, so why are you not dead?” the young man asked.

“I might not be, if not for poor marksmanship. The first shot caught me quite by surprise.” the vampire recounted. “I always felt relaxed and let my guard down around here.”

“But why did you fake your own death? I don't get it.” The journalist remembered reading that it wasn't the bullet that had killed the duke, but an infection of the wound a few weeks later.

Treize shrugged. “I just took advantage of the situation. It was getting time for me to make my exit anyway, so why not die. As you probably can guess, we can only live among humans for so long before they start noticing that something isn't right.”

That made sense of course. “I suppose though. Even facelifts and botox can only be used as an excuse for so long.” Milliardo grinned. He was not sure why, but there was something about the older man... vampire, that made him feel quite related and at ease. Any apprehension he had earlier had melted away like snow in spring.

“Yes, and back then we didn't even have those options.” Treize chuckled quietly. But then he grew serious again. “I'm afraid we will have to end and our little chat. The sun is going to rise soon; I'll take you back to your car.”

#

It was just before dawn, the darkest hour of the night, when they arrived at the place were Milliardo had left the Ferrari.

“I need to thank you.” Treize said as the reporter climbed behind the wheel of his car. “I haven't had such a pleasant and intelligent conversation in a very long time.”

“Thank you, I enjoyed it too. But I was wondering... I till have a lot of unanswered questions. If you don t mind, I'd like to come back tonight.”

“No!” The vampire's voice was sharp enough to startle the young man. Treize must have realized it too, because he added much softer and more subtle. “It would be too dangerous.”

“Don't worry, I've learned my lesson: I would make sure to be at the manor before the sun sets.” Milliardo assured him.

“No,” he repeated. “Not tonight. Tonight not even I would be able to protect you.” He leaned down, one arm propped against the window, so that he was face to face with the journalist. “Milliardo, I want you to promise me not to come anywhere near Deerwood tonight.”

Milliardo blinked in surprise. There was almost something akin to desperation in the vampire's voice. “Alright,” he promised. “I'll stay away. You have nothing to worry about.”

Treize nodded as he straightened. “Then I shall leave you now.”

“Wait!” There was still something that was troubling the young man. “Thanks to your `breadcrumbs' my memories of last night have slowly returned. But for some reason I still can't remember what happened after I dropped the wineglass and you offered to take me upstairs.”

The vampire's lips curled into a soft smile. “Are you sure?”

What kind of an answer is that? Frowning to himself, Milliardo gazed down as he put the key in the ignition. When he looked up again Treize was gone, the place where he stood just a moment ago empty.

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T.B.C.

 

Author's Note: