I Dream of Fangs

A Vampire The Masquerade: Bloodlines Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines. I only use Lacroix for my own personal fantasies, like the cheap floozy he is.

The first time I met the man named Sebastian Lacroix, I had awoken on the asphalt in the alley behind Big Lots N Stuff, where I worked nights. I did not remember how I had gotten there. Gravel dug into my back and the back of my head hurt where I had evidently slammed it into the ground on the way down.

When I opened my eyes he was staring down at me, sitting on his haunches at my side. He had the most intensely blue eyes I had ever seen on another person before. They were strangely illuminated in the alleyway, like stars set against the dim night sky.

Perhaps it was the flickering florescent light above the door to the building they were picking up light from, but we were at least 3 feet from there, and he was facing away from it. I couldn't figure how that could be.

Before long, he had opened his mouth, and my musings of how lovely his eyes looked were silenced by his ugly words.

"Get up," he snapped.

His piercing eyes disappeared for a moment and I felt his hands on my shoulders. I was lifted easily to my feet.

The alleyway spun around me, the dumpster, asphalt, brick building, all blurring together like they had been shoved together in a blender. I closed my eyes to the stranger, swaying.

"What happened?" I asked.

I needed to get inside, to lie down. Someone else would have to take care of the trash. When the dizziness subsided a little, I glanced over at the empty cardboard boxes and grabage bags stacked against the wall a few feet away. Maybe Shelly would get it.

The stranger was still staring at me when I tore my eyes away from the alleyway. He looked disheveled, the suit he was wearing torn in places. I gave him a few more moments to answer my question before turning to go inside.

As my fingertips brushed the metal doorknob, I felt a hand on my shoulder again stopping me from going any further.

I whirled around, "I'm sorry sir," I ground out, "But I'm going inside. I can send out the manager-"

"You cannot go in there," he said, effectively cutting me off. I noted his french accent and wondered if maybe this was some kind of cultural misunderstanding.

"I'm sick," I reiterated. Perhaps being honest would help the situation, "I need to lie down."

"You must come with me," he said.

A sudden bout of intense nausea crept up my throat, and I turned back towards the wall and pressed my hand against it to steady myself.

No, maybe not nausea... but something else. Something was wrong. I just couldn't quite make out what it was. The feeling was getting worse by the second.

"Please," I whined, the raw quality of my voice surprising me. I had never quite heard myself sound so desperate before.

"I'm so hungry."

Hungry? No, that wasn't right. Why had I said that? I wasn't hungry.

"I mean..." I tried to correct myself but somehow I'd forgotten what I was going to say.

"I know," the man said.

The door in front of me swung open and a coworker's face appeared. It was the new girl, the one whose name I had never gotten the chance to learn. The florescent light behind her momentarily blinded me.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, glancing between me and the customer behind me.

I shook my head no.

She looked concerned, opening the door further, "You don't look so good," she said, "Maybe you should come inside."

It was then that I noticed the soft peach-colored skin of her breast, peaking out from under her low-cut shirt. It twitched when she sucked a breath in, and I watched it, fixated. I didn't notice the odd turn my thoughts had taken, so absorbed in the appearance of her skin I was.

I didn't even notice I had moved until suddenly I was on the floor of the warehouse. I had lept through the door, pinning her down in front of me, her face inches from mine. How did that happen? I wasn't sure. I didn't remember doing it.

She began squirming beneath me, making noises. No, not noises, words. They were words, I reminded myself. Funny that I would forget something like that.

I held her hands above her head to stop their irritating movement. She was scratching at me, trying to hurt me for some odd reason. I had never done anything to her. Why was she being so weird; clawing at me and making those noises?

I couldn't really make out what she was saying, but my eyes trailed lower from her mouth to her neck, where the twitching was strong.

There was noise behind me. Someone was pulling at me. I ignored it.

And then her neck was lodged in my mouth and I was tasting it. The skin was so much better than I had anticipated, a bright salty husk filled with the meat of her essence. I can't hold back any longer, I thought hazily.

I suckled at her neck like a infant, trying to find the spot where the blood would come out in easy thumps right into my mouth. I don't know how I knew it would, but when I found it, I sighed against her. My teeth bit down on that delicate tendril of blue vein, wrapping around her insides like a road map.

And then bright red was seeping to the floor, in my mouth and down my throat, down into her shirt, down into mine. Everywhere, it was everywhere. The slick nectar coated the floor beneath us in an ever-expanding puddle.

I couldn't stop until I was ripped away and dragged out of the store and back into the dark. My upper arms were being gripped so tightly it hurt. The pain cleared my head a little. Or maybe it was the full feeling of hot blood sloshing around in my stomach that woke my brain up from the trance it had been in.

I glanced into the open doorway, and my gaze landed on my coworker. She was just laying there, her entire upper body soaked in blood, unmoving except for the breath that shook through her every few seconds. Her eyes were filled with fright, the halo of blonde hair splayed onto the dirty floor around her head. She was watching us the way a wild deer would as it was being dragged into the forest by a wolf. She was afraid of me.

I lurched forward in the grip of the stranger and vomited red all over the concrete in front of me.

"For fuck's sake," I heard him say behind me.

And suddenly, violently, I was being dragged backwards away from the scene, my tennis shoes slipping on the gravel beneath my feet. I struggled against it, but to no avail. "Please," I sobbed, not really sure what I was begging for. I tried to look at the face of the person that was taking me deeper into the dark alleyway, but all I could see were the stars glaring down at me against the night sky.

When I awoke again, I found myself feeling much better than I previously had. The indescribable sensation in the pit of my stomach was gone, and instead I found a pleasing feeling of warmth had taken it's place.

I wiped my hand over my eye, rubbing the sleep out of it, but the feeling of cracking, peeling, blood made me immediately pull away.

I squinted at my hand. Blood had dried hard on it, brown and rough. Both of my hands, up my arms, my shirt, on my jeans, my mouth, face, neck. I closed my eyes, disgusted.

I was surely in jail by now. You don't grab people by the neck and assault them by ripping out their throat with your teeth and not be put in jail. In prison eventually. I would have to learn how to do it again to survive in prison. I would have to learn how to do it again. I didn't know what 'it' was, this disease, this... longing to hurt people, to see them bleed and then to taste their insides.

And I did want to hurt them. I remember the feeling of it, not malice exactly, but indifference towards the screams, the terror, the pain, the repulsion of seeing the innards of a person. I was like a serial killer. My humanity was all gone.

I wanted to sit there with my eyes closed longer and pretend that none of it existed, but the dried blood on my lips, between the cracks of my teeth prevented it. That was the only thing that propelled me into a sitting position, the overwhelming nasty irony rust smell, the taste and the desperation for water. I needed something to wash it away.

When I opened my eyes and looked around, I found myself not in a jail cell, but laying on a couch, next to a roaring fire. I sat up completely, running my fingers over the fine fabric of the couch. The room was massive, and the walls were decorated with what seemed to be gold plated molding outlining all the windows and doors. The floors were wooden, but were so shiny and reflective they seemed almost to be made of the same gold. For all it's luxuriousness, it was practically bare of furniture, save the couch and a desk facing away from the semi circle of tall windows.

Sitting at that desk was the man from the alleyway. He was turned away from me, towards the windows, holding a phone to his ear, his stature extremely tense. He was wearing a different suit now, this one a darker gray. His voice was getting louder and louder as he talked to the person on the phone and he seemed to be getting angrier and angrier.

"What do you mean it isn't there? What happened? Did it grow wings and flutter away out a window and into the sky?"

There was a brief pause in which the person on the other end of the line was talking into the phone at the same scathing decibel.

"Do not come back to this office unless you are a cadaver in a body bag, you insequential waste of time!"

He turned abruptly and slammed the phone down onto it's holder situated on the desk, silently seething.

I stared, unable to do much else.

As if he could feel my gaze upon him, he looked up at me with cold calculating eyes, jaw set tight, lips drawn together in a sneer. I found myself unable to look at him. In light of what I had just done, the promise of violence in his eyes made me very uncomfortable.

"You are awake," he said in a sigh, like I was just another problem to deal with before his night could be over.

I stared at the floor, tracing the pattern of the wood with my eyes, busying myself. I hoped that he could tell me exactly what had happened in the alleyway, but I doubted it. There was no easy explanation for my descent into madness. Why he hadn't handed me over to the police was baffling, but all the same I was grateful. I wondered if my coworker was okay. I would have to face her when I went back to work and I didn't know what I would say. Maybe I would still end up going to jail, I didn't know, and although I was still quite frightened, I felt more hopeful. Hopeful and eager to put the entire night behind me.

I heard the echoing clips of his footsteps and looked up again. He was walking towards me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Juliet," I replied. My voice was croaky and I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how tired I was. I wondered wearily what time it was. Probably close to 3 or 4 in the morning.

"Thank you for..." I paused, unsure of what to say, "keeping me unharmed," I finally decided, and from harming others, I thought, "while I was passed out," I gave him a weak smile.

He didn't smile back or really respond in any other way. His eyes bounced around from object to object on his desk, perhaps considering whether or not he should begin doing something else while we talked.

I had expected him to volunteer information about himself, but he didn't seem too eager, "Who are you?" I finally asked tired of waiting.

He decided on shuffling papers absently, distracted he replied, "I am Sebastian Lacroix, CEO of the Lacroix Foundation."

I couldn't help but think he looked a little young to be a CEO. He had high cheekbones but an otherwise very rounded cheek structure and he looked to be about 25, perhaps 30 at the very most. His voice and posture, however, demanded respect. He seemed intelligent, wordy and well versed in English despite the prominent French accent. He had bright red hair that was slicked back aside from a lone piece of bang that seemed to want to resist and curl inward towards his face. His skin was sallow, almost gray looking compared to the noticeably much warmer surroundings.

"I have a bit of bad news for you" he said, interrupting my train of thought, "As it happens you are now a cainite."

There was a short moment of silence in which if you listened carefully enough you could probably hear my brain short-circuiting.

"What?"

"A vampire, a member of the living undead," he continued.

I stared at him as if he gotten on all fours had begun barking like a dog.

"A vampire," I said incredulously after another moment of awkward silence.

He sighed, as if this were the very last thing on earth he wanted to be doing right now. "I understand how difficult to comprehend this might be for you," he continued in a rather bored, unconvincing tone.

That's when I noticed his teeth. Further back and only really noticeable when he drew his lips back, there were two pointed teeth, two too pointed teeth. I felt my heart begin to race. This guy was obviously some sort of freak- the kind of freak that went out of his way to get realistic vampire teeth permanently afixed to his own.

As my brain spun into high gear, I wondered how many other more niave women he had brought here. I imagined that as handsome as he was and obviously rich, he could probably get them to do whatever he wanted. They would be terrified when he convinced them they were vampires. Admittedly, he was not very charming, but maybe they could bypass that.

This entire thing was beginning to look far too contrived. Maybe my coworker had even been in on it. And perhaps the hazy "feeding" could be explained too, in some way. Could date-rape drugs make a person believe they had done something like that? No wonder the "blood" had tasted good- it was clearly fake!

"Okay," I said with a self-satisfied smile, my voice sarcastic, "I'm a vampire now. I'm so scared. What should I do?"

Mr. Lacroix gave me a long deadpan look, as if I were neither funny nor convincing.

"I would suggest you begin treating me with respect. I am your sire now, and the only person with the knowledge you will need to care for yourself. Unless you want a repeat episode of tonight," he said it as if it were something as basic as brushing my teeth and I was too stupid or too young to understand it.

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, don't you want to fuck me? Isn't that your whole plan? Pretend you're a vampire and the stupid women spread their legs?" I had never been quite so vulgar before, especially not to an almost total stranger, but I was beginning to feel angry that he would put me through all of this for such a revolting reason.

For a while, I had actually believed I'd hurt someone. That girl had looked terrified, shaking, bleeding on the floor... I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. No, it was all fake.

His eyes narrowed, breathing quickening. He was beginning to look angry.

I swallowed and tried to regain my composure. Letting him see what an affect his overblown temper had was not going to help the situation. Besides that, he could be insane enough to be dangerous.

"Well, I hate to have wasted your time. Looks like you'll have to find another victim to play vampires with," I said, getting up from the chair. "Hope you don't mind me stopping in a bathroom to wash off the ketchup or whatever it is you used," I motioned to the red substance that coated me nose down, "Oh, and thanks for ruining a shirt. Really nice of you."

I didn't wait for an answer, just began walking towards the doors at the back of the room.

It wasn't until I was halfway across the room that he even said anything, and it wasn't much at that. Nonetheless, it had an immediate effect and I stopped dead in my tracks. I think anybody would've.

"If you leave this room, you will be hunted." His voice was cold and unforgiving.

Was he threatening me? I flung around on my heels. He hadn't moved an inch. I gritted my teeth together.

"Just stop already! Just drop it! It's over! I figured it out! So just let me go home unharmed and I promise I won't go to the police," I couldn't help the edge of desperation from creeping into my voice.

He looked a bit more angry at my outburst, a bit more violent if it was possible.

"Look at your own teeth," he said heatedly.

What?

I stared at him for a moment before slowly bringing my fingers into my mouth, ignoring the nasty taste of dried blood. I pressed my thumbs along the ridge of my teeth, and stopped at the canines amazed to find them sharp and pointed like his. I felt a prick and winced. They were so sharp in fact that they had cut my thumb. I stared at the drop of blood dumbly.

"Do you think I had a dentist come to fashion a prosthetic? Hmm? While you were unconscious?"

"I..I don't kno-"

He cut me off, "Look around this room!" He stretched his arm out in a sweeping motion, "I am one of perhaps 10 creatures in this city intelligent enough to create a net worth of over 5 million dollars. Do I look immature to you? Deranged?"

I shook my head no, if only to make him stop his frightening tirade.

"What about your..." he shook his head, apparently searching for the right words, "juvenile outburst?" he finally said, voice dripping with contempt. "Do you suppose that I faked that child's innards as you ripped them out?"

I shut my eyes, willing his words away.

"You will not leave this building, and risk both the masquerade and my reputation in this city. Do I make myself clear?"

"Fine."

"There is a restroom across the hall," he said, and his voice was much more subdued now, "Do not attempt to escape through the window unless you intend to kill yourself. We are many stories up."

I crossed the gap and pulled the doors that led out of that room open so forcefully, I heard them bounce against the rubber stopper on the wall.

I sat against the wall in the empty bathroom for the next hour before I could begin washing myself, too afraid to face the person in the mirror.

The idea of being human used to be so simple. I had never really thought about it much until the night I had become one of the undead. Humans lead such effortless lives. They breathe, eat, sleep and eventually and assuredly die. They are like beautiful monocarpic flowers that bloom once, and then right at their prime, fall limp.

Just that night, I had shoved my teeth into a woman. Reflected in her dark eyes was the horrible creature I had become. The way I looked at her, full of greedy hunger, was a look I never wanted to give another human being for the rest of my life, but it was not something I could avoid anymore.

Even despite the changes, I found myself thinking more and more about my humanity, the word rolling around in my head constantly in my first few nights alone with it. It sat heavily on everything I thought and did. Humanity.