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Chapter Text

Claudia perches on the edge of the dressmaker’s table, watching her girl come to life.

Madeleine dances around the room, exploring with her newfound senses, reaching out to touch the swathes of fabric, the grain of the wood paneling. Her skin is already losing its human flush and gaining the otherworldly glow of the undead. Claudia nearly laughs, feeling dizzy with joy. This thing that she’s wanted for so long, this strange girl, is finally hers.

Madeleine turns to her, eyes bright. “Everything is alive!”

“Yes.” Claudia can’t help but smile.

Beneath her joy lives a hot bitterness that she recognizes as jealousy; her memories of her own transformation are vague at best, lost in the mists of childhood. The strongest thing she can recall is being suddenly free from pain.

“We should hunt. Where do you wanna go?”

Madeleine steps closer, thrumming with suppressed excitement. “Dancing. I want to dance with you.”

“They won’t let me through the door.”

“In one of my dresses? They’ll beg you to stay.”

Madeleine begins rooting through her workshop, carelessly tossing aside her neatly organized garments. Claudia sits still, watching. Madeleine has designed dresses for her before, of course, women’s fashions sized to fit her, but nothing suitable for dancing. She can’t even picture herself in such a dress.

Her rage and doubt and bitterness, constant in the pit of her stomach, begin to bubble up again. She shoves them down forcefully

Madeleine produces a heap of scarlet silk and holds it up to Claudia with a triumphant grin. She reaches out to touch the delicate weave, running it between her fingers.

“It’s beautiful. Are you sure it will… fit?”

“It’s, ah, already sized to your measurements,” Madeleine says with faux casualness, busying herself with the fabric to avoid making eye contact.

Moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror, Claudia unbuttons her dress and lets it fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her underclothes. She steps out of the fabric and kicks it aside, eyeing herself critically.

A familiar surge of frustration fills her chest and throat, deep-seated hatred for her childish body. Madeleine comes up behind her, birdlike and tall enough to tower over her. Claudia meets her eye for a moment before looking away, feeling exposed.

She turns around to avoid the image of them juxtaposed in the mirror. It’s not worth comparing; she will never have Madeleine’s womanly elegance or sensuality.

Claudia holds out her arms, and Madeleine slips the red silk over her head. It’s smooth and cool against her skin. Madeleine circles around to stand behind her, and she feels the touch of light hands doing up a long row of buttons on her back.

The brush of Madeleine’s fingers against her bare skin, still warm with the last vestiges of humanity, makes her heart pick up.

Madeleine’s words come back to her, as they have many times since she spoke them: “Not yet.” Not romantic yet. She feels herself flush slightly. Madeleine’s blood courses through her veins, turning her hot under her careful hands.

She has watched Madeleine for months from the shadows, longing to be close to her, to feel her touch, to taste her, knowing all the while that she would never see Claudia as more than a foolish child. Now, revealed as a monstrous creature in a little girl’s skin, how does Madeleine see her?

She shivers slightly, trying to stand perfectly still as each pearl button slowly slips into its loop, feeling a bit like a living doll. Madeleine’s fingers brush the skin of her upper back, pausing for a moment to close the final clasp.

“Done,” Madeleine says finally, stepping back

Claudia stands still for a moment, not moving. The mirror at her back seems a deadly presence, there to destroy her claims of adulthood. Madeleine touches her shoulder lightly, jolting her back to the present.

“Trust me, Claudia.”

Claudia turns around, and her breath catches in her throat.

She thought Madeleine would try to create the appearance of a woman, using clever fabric and padding to invent a figure she would never have. Instead, the red silk falls elegantly from a wide neckline to a short hem. It comes in at the waist, but otherwise drapes loose and shiftlike, reminding Claudia of the dresses of her youth. A slit up the side shows off a scandalous bit of leg.

The color makes her skin glow, and it emphasizes what curves she has without being facetious. She cocks her hips, imagining the silk swirling around her as she dances. She looks fresh, youthful, sexy, without a trace of childishness.

She doesn’t understand how Madeleine repeatedly proves herself capable of taking the sharp, shattered pieces of her and fitting them together, using her careful hands to create something new. Cleaning up the mess of Claudia.

“This will be the fashion in five or ten years, non?” Madeleine says, sounding nervous. “If you don’t like it, I have other options…”

Claudia realizes that she’s been staring at herself too long. She turns to Madeleine, overwhelmed. How did she find this miracle worker, the first being to understand her so well?

“It’s – it’s perfect. I shouldn’t have doubted you. Thank you.”

Madeleine goes slightly pink. “Excellent. Shall we?”

The streets are full of mortals, stumbling in and out of bars and cafés, laughing and shoving and kissing. Claudia follows behind Madeleine, watching as she stops to take in the masses of life.

“Everything is so bright,” Madeleine murmurs. “The colors, the lights… Will it always be like this?”

Forever and ever, Claudia projects into her mind. Madeleine glances at her sharply.

“How do you do that?”

Claudia explains, and then they’re sharing thoughts as they walk, laughing to themselves as they make up stories for the humans that they pass.

She must be having a torrid affair.

That dress is absolutely horrible, she looks like a cucumber.

Is he really thinking about horse-racing as she’s talking?

Eventually, they end up at a small building decorated with brightly colored lights. Claudia follows Madeleine inside and up a long set of stairs. They find a dark room full of dancing bodies, moving to the pulsing beat of the band.

Madeleine turns to her, eyes wide. I can feel the music in my bones.

Claudia grins and takes her hand.

The two of them swirl around the dance floor together, laughing, moving slightly faster than human speed as they follow the steps of the dance. Madeleine’s bright hair floats around her as she twirls, body lithe and deceptively delicate.

The crowd surges against them and then they’re pressed together, Madeleine’s skin cool against hers. Claudia’s hands find her small hips, and Madeleine grins, tossing her hair and draping her arms over Claudia’s shoulders.

Has she really done it? Turned this warm, fragile human into something cold and new?

Eyes sparkling, Madeleine leans closer, pressing her forehead to Claudia’s. We did it, she thinks. Claudia laughs, suddenly incandescently happy.

They’re interrupted abruptly by a mortal man cutting in to take Madeleine’s hand. Claudia steps back, standing still in the middle of the moving crowd as he pulls Madeleine away.

Madeleine follows him easily into the next dance, hand light in his. She catches Claudia’s eye over his shoulder and winks.

Watching them together, Claudia feels her rage begin to build up again, sending heat pulsing through her bloodstream. The mortal man dips Madeleine suddenly, making her laugh and clutch his arm. Claudia stands stock-still, letting the dancing mob push up against her hard body.

She imagines tearing him limb from limb, peeling his skin off, letting him bleed out in the middle of the street. She closes her eyes and takes a breath. A poison eating him from inside, his guts spilling out, ripping his head off, crushing his ribs. Eating his heart.

Madeleine belongs to her.

Before she can stop herself, she’s moving across the room to grab him and whisk him out the door, too fast for the other mortals to perceive. In seconds, she has him pressed up against the wall of the alleyway outside.

“Putain de merde!” He stares at her with wide, terrified eyes. She grins, exposing her fangs, and feels him break into a cold sweat.

“This one is mine, yes?”

Claudia turns to find Madeleine hovering behind her. She swallows down her bloodlust and takes a half-step back.

“…Yes.”

As Claudia watches, Madeleine slowly approaches the man and takes him in her arms. He stares into her eyes as she tucks her hair behind her ear and then, with the ease of a human biting into a peach, leans down and buries her teeth in his neck.

Claudia can feel it as he falls into the swoon, life draining away into Madeleine’s veins. As he becomes weaker, Madeleine’s presence grows stronger, until she’s pulsing with the energy of a newborn vampire. Claudia senses the mortal falling deeper towards the darkness. When he’s on the edge of the abyss, she reaches out and pulls Madeleine back.

Madeleine whips around to stare at her. “You have to stop before he dies, or you’ll die too,” Claudia explains.

Madeleine lets go of the corpse, letting it drop onto the pavement. Her eyes are bright and dilated, hair a frizzy cloud, lips and face dripping with blood. She’s so beautiful that Claudia’s heart hurts.

Madeleine laughs, exposing her gory teeth, and reaches out to cup Claudia’s face with one hand. It’s warm with fresh blood. Claudia stiffens at her touch, pulse picking up.

“I didn’t know it would be like this,” Madeleine says, voice a throaty whisper. “I could taste his life.”

God, Claudia loves her. She smiles at her helplessly.

Madeleine begins to move closer, but Claudia freezes, a cold chill washing over her. She can sense a dark presence, distant but growing nearer. She recognizes the being as Estelle. The coven has discovered them.

She turns back to Madeleine, taking a step away, and Madeleine lowers her hand.

“We’re in danger; we have to get out of Paris. Is there anything you need from your shop?”

“Of course not. Let’s go.”

Claudia stares at her for a moment. “You’ll leave it all behind, just like that?”

“Haven’t I made that clear?” Madeleine moves closer to her. “Claudia, none of that matters. My old life is gone. All I care about is my new life, with you.”

Her expression is painfully earnest. Claudia pushes down the hot bitterness deep in the pit of her stomach, trying to remember that Madeleine isn’t deceiving her.

“I don’t understand,” she says finally.

“What?”

“Any of this. I just… Why would you do this? Give up everything to save me?”

“Are you kidding?” Madeleine laughs, a cackle that makes her sound slightly mad. “Mon Dieu, Claudia, you saved me. No, not only that, but you gave me new life.”

Claudia swallows. How could they pull this off? The two of them, each so broken, hiding their pain behind thick carapaces. Monsters masquerading as girls. Could they save and be saved? Or do they only know how to hurt and be hurt?

Madeleine steps even closer, until she’s in Claudia’s space. She reaches out to grip her arm, fingers clutching her sleeve “Everyone you’ve ever known has betrayed you, non? I feel the same way. But this, you and I, we can build something different.”

“We may simply find new ways to wound each other.”

Madeleine hums, cocking her head slightly. “I’m willing to take the chance. Are you?”

I would do anything for you, Claudia wants to say. Instead, she nods silently, heart in her throat.

Madeleine reaches up to touch Claudia’s face again, gently. “I would do anything for you, too,” she murmurs. She leans down, and her lips find Claudia’s.

Claudia freezes for a moment, cold with shock. Madeleine is kissing her. Kissing her.

Then she surges up against her, clutching at Madeleine’s waist, so quickly that their noses bump. Madeleine laughs against her lips.

Her mouth is soft and hot and sweet with blood. Claudia pushes until her back hits the wall of the alleyway and tangles a hand in her hair. Madeleine’s warm hands pull her closer and her tongue slips between her lips, running over the sharp points of her teeth.

Claudia pulls back, and then leans forward to press her forehead to Madeleine’s chest, overwhelmed. “I didn’t realize…” she says, words muffled by her dress.

Madeleine cups the back of her head gently. “Claudia, I love you, but sometimes you are very dense.”

Claudia laughs. She grabs Madeleine’s face and leans up to kiss her again, quickly. You belong to me, she thinks, don’t forget it. Madeleine smiles against her lips.

She can feel the coven, racing closer through the narrow streets, perched on their humming motorbikes. She takes a deep breath and pulls back, looking up into Madeleine’s pale eyes.

“We need to run. The coven will find us soon.”

“Merde,” Madeleine groans. She squeezes Claudia’s arm, and then releases her, stepping away. “Let’s go.”

Claudia takes her hand, and they set off at vampiric speed, leaping up onto the roof of the building. Laughing, they fly from rooftop to rooftop, watching the lights and voices of the city twinkle and vanish.

Elated with newfound freedom, Claudia shouts “Goodbye, Paris!” her voice dissolving into the wind. Together, they disappear into the safety of the night.

They make it to a tiny town in the countryside before the sky begins to lighten. Travelling with Louis, Claudia often slept buried in the earth, letting the soil protect them from the harsh light of the sun. Madeleine deserves better.

An abandoned abbey on the outskirts of town seems the ideal place. Claudia wanders the halls, Madeleine trailing behind her, already slow with day-sleep. They find a loose stone in one of the cells that opens into an airtight storage area.

“It’s not very glamorous for your first day, but it’ll do.”

“It’s perfect,” Madeleine says, and bravely climbs down into the hole.

Claudia follows her, pulling the stone closed over their heads and bathing them in thick darkness. Their vampiric vision makes it seem more like twilight. Madeleine is a shadowy silhouette crouched against one end of the cell. She holds out a hand, staring at her own outstretched fingers.

“I can see!”

“Benefits of immortality.” Claudia curls up next to her, sitting back against the cool stone.

Madeleine leans into her, shoulders touching. “Will they let us go?”

“I doubt it.”

Madeleine sighs. She reaches out to wrap an arm over Claudia’s shoulders. Claudia stiffens slightly and then leans closer to curl into her side, relaxing into the warmth of her body. Her soft human limbs are beginning to harden, taking on the stonelike firmness of Claudia’s.

“What will we do?”

“We’ll escape, I’ll make sure of it.” Claudia says firmly. “We will be free.”

Madeleine rests her head on top of Claudia’s. “My brilliant girl. Of course we will.”

Smiling, Claudia closes her eyes and nestles her head in the crook of her neck. She smells like a heady mix of floral perfume and blood. Claudia presses a kiss to her sharp collarbone.

Madeleine’s hand cups Claudia’s jaw, and then she’s tilting her head up to kiss her.

Claudia tangles a hand in her hair and presses closer, lips parting, relishing the iron taste of her breath. Madeleine runs a warm hand up her thigh. It slips under the silk hem of her dress, making Claudia gasp into her mouth.

Claudia pulls back, flushed. “I – I don’t know if I –”

“That’s alright,” Madeleine says, and presses another quick kiss to her mouth. “Let’s sleep.”

They curl up together on the stone floor, holding each other, and let the call of the sun carry them down into the darkness.

Chapter Text

“They’re gonna burn us like witches.”

“Hmm,” Madeleine says, rooting around in the cabinets of her shop. She holds up two swatches of fabric. “Would you prefer to burn in yellow, or white?”

“Yellow,” Claudia decides. “White is too virginal.”

Madeleine barks out a laugh and lays out the fabric on her dressmaker’s table. Claudia comes up behind her, putting her hands on her waist and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Can you really have it done in time?”

“Not if you keep distracting me, ma chérie,” Madeleine turns around under her hands, smiling, and leans down to kiss her. Claudia pulls back, blood running cold.

“Don’t call me that.”

Madeleine blinks. “Pourquoi?”

“Don’t call me chérie.”

“Oh.” Madeleine’s voice is suddenly gentle. “I’m sorry.”

Claudia tries to push down the rage and fear building up in her chest. She sighs, closing her eyes and running a hand over her face.

“It’s just – my… my maker used to say that a lot. Whenever he talked to Louis, it was always mon cher this, mon cher that, it drove me crazy, and I – I’m sorry.” Feeling miserable, she stares down at her feet.

“Hey,” Madeleine says, and Claudia looks up at her. “You don’t need to apologize, I understand.”

“Thank you.” Claudia takes her hand and presses a kiss to the palm of it.

They keep bumping up against each other’s sharp edges, finding the wounds and broken parts, bones that were never set properly. They need time to heal, Claudia knows, but time is the one thing they might not have.

The dress is perfect, of course.

Claudia twirls, letting the wide skirt spin out around her, and Madeleine laughs.

“The most beautiful witch, my Claudia.”

Then Madeleine is there and they’re kissing, out of nowhere. Claudia cups her face and presses closer, lips moving against hers. She lets her walk her backward until she hits the dressmaker’s table.

Madeleine easily hoists her up to sit on it, yellow skirt hiked up around her hips. Claudia wraps her legs around her waist, pulling her closer to lick into her mouth, chasing the taste of fresh blood.

Madeleine lets out a small sound. Her hands trail down Claudia’s sides until they find her bare thighs, stilling when they reach the soft, downy skin.

Claudia pulls back from the kiss. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure?” Madeleine searches her eyes. Until now, Claudia has hesitated at anything more than necking.

“Yes, I want you to. This may be our last chance.”

Madeleine’s hands slide under Claudia’s dress. One slips between her legs, rubbing gently over her underwear, and Claudia gasps, tilting her hips up into the pressure.

Before Madeleine, her only sexual experiences have been horrific and traumatizing. She’s determined to change that, especially if she’s going to die tomorrow.

“Bedroom,” Claudia decides.

Madeleine easily sweeps her into her arms, making Claudia laugh and grab at her shoulders. In a flash of vampiric speed, they’re in the back room. Claudia lays back on Madeleine’s small bed, ruffled skirt spread around her. Madeleine’s quick hands reach for the buttons of her dress, but Claudia stops her.

“Leave it. We should break it in properly.”

Madeleine gives a delighted grin, bright hair mussed and floating around her face. “Whatever you desire, mon amour.”

Claudia reaches out to tangle her fingers in it and pulls her in for another kiss.

Then Madeleine is mouthing at Claudia’s collarbones and moving down to duck under the folds of her skirt. Her cool lips find the inside of Claudia’s thigh, making her shiver. Claudia grips at her hair, tugging slightly.

“Bite me.”

She feels the sharpness of teeth breaking sensitive skin and sinks back into the swoon. Before she lets it take her entirely, she reaches for Madeleine’s wrist. Madeleine submits easily, and Claudia brings it to her mouth, biting down on the blue vein.

The circuit of blood overwhelms her. She can feel the drag of Madeleine feeding, pulsing through her body, pulling on her heart. At the same time, she can taste the energy of her being, sense her vivacity, her love. Claudia lets herself fall deeper, guided by the synchronous pounding of their hearts.

Eventually, Madeleine pulls away, and Claudia releases her wrist. She sinks back onto the sheets, dizzy with love, and kisses Madeleine until both of their faces are gory with blood.

Long fingers caress the bones of her hips, pulling her underclothes down her thighs. Madeleine smiles at her wickedly and slips back under her skirt.

After, Madeleine lays in Claudia’s lap. Claudia pets her bright hair, playing with the messy waves.

“We must go soon. They will be waiting for us,” Madeleine says with a sigh.

“Let them wait.”

Madeleine smiles. She takes Claudia’s hand in hers and presses a kiss to it.

“Soon, this will all be over, and we can start our new life together.”

Claudia wants to believe it. Deep in her gut, below the anxiety and rage and frustration, she thinks she might.

“Where will we go?”

Madeleine hums thoughtfully, turning to look up at her with a smile.

“America. I want to see America.”

They dress slowly, carefully preparing their masks of cheerful innocence. Louis and Armand are already waiting at the café for them, four cocktails sitting on the table.

It’s Louis’ pain that hurts the most, Claudia thinks. His betrayal. He screams for her as they pull the burlap sack over his head, screams himself hoarse, voice breaking on her name.

She stays silent.

Will it really work?

Hush, Claudia says, holding Madeleine close. Hide your thoughts like we practiced.

They clutch each other, curled up in the tiny space, Claudia hunched over Madeleine. Above them, she can feel the heat of the flames seeping through the wood, burning the skin of her back. The agonizing screams of the mortals onstage are intimately close, as if they’re crying directly to Claudia, and she can smell the sickly odor of charred flesh.

She buries her face in Madeleine’s hair and closes her eyes. She is nothing. She is void. She is not hiding in the trap room.

It’s a matter of moments before the human girls onstage are gone, burned to a crisp with gasoline and the flick of a match, like witches. Like Claudia and Madeleine were meant to, if Claudia hadn’t learned a few stage tricks during her time in the theatre.

The play draws to a close, and there’s the thump of human feet shuffling out of the theatre, the sound of their relieved laughter as they escape the tension of the trial onto the brightly lit Parisian street.

The coven begins to clean up.

Claudia can feel them moving, the old wooden beams of the building creaking around her with every step, hear their shrill voices. She holds onto Madeleine, not breathing, willing them to disappear.

They only have to make it until nightfall.

The miniature trap room is meant for holding corpses. The space is too small for them to move much, just large enough to fit the two of them curled together. Like a coffin, or a womb at the center of the theatre.

Claudia can feel Madeleine’s breath begin to slow, limbs freezing into the stonelike immobility of vampiric rest. As a fledgling, the sun holds too strong a pull for her to resist. Claudia’s brimming anxiety keeps her from considering sleep.

She can feel the movements of the coven, hear them arguing, Armand and Santiago circling each other like dogs. Lestat, sitting with them in cold silence.

Louis, buried and locked away, screaming for her.

Beneath her terror, a sick thrill fills her. What will he do now, Louis, with her well and truly gone? With his little lover proven a traitor?

The hours seem to slowly melt away. Claudia slips into something of a trance, keeping her mind silent of all but the wood around her, pressing into her skin, and the cold, still body protected beneath her. If she doesn’t think, they can’t find her.

One by one, the coven members return to their coffins. The youngest first, then the elders. Armand stays awake, sitting in the basement by Louis’ side.

As soon as she feels the sun hit the horizon, Claudia begins shaking Madeleine awake.

Up, get up. We gotta go!

Madeleine blinks her eyes open, pale irises glowing in the darkness.

…Claudia?

Quickly, they’ll be waking up for the night soon.

Slowly, Claudia slides open the trapdoor above their heads. They climb out, moving silently, and, with vampiric speed, make their way out of the haunted theatre and onto the dark street.

Holding hands, they race through the city, running for their lives. Down the curving alleyways and over the rooftops, they make their way to the Seine, where a riverboat is waiting for them.

On board, they watch the lights of Paris drop away from them as the barge heads for the coast.

“We did it,” Madeleine whispers, speaking aloud for the first time.

Claudia turns to her. “We’re dead girls walking.”

Eyes sparkling, Madeleine pulls her close. Claudia leans into her body, staring down at the dark water beneath their feet.

“You will haunt them, you know that?” Madeleine says. “They will never escape your ghost.”

“Good,” Claudia says, and she means it.

Chapter Text

Claudia bites her lip and raises her eyebrows, face stretching comically in the mirror as she brings the eyeliner pen to the corner of her eye. Carefully, elbow resting steadily on the bathroom sink, she brings it to her skin.

“Are you almost ready?”

“Fuck!” Startled, Claudia’s hand jerks and sends her liner smearing.

“Oh, sorry, ma belle. Here.” Madeleine grabs a Q-tip from the cup on the counter. With one hand on Claudia’s chin, she tilts her head to face her, and begins dabbing carefully at her eyelid.

Claudia rolls her eyes but gives in. Madeleine presses her hips back against the bathroom sink and leans close, cool breath making Claudia’s skin prickle. She takes the eyeliner from Claudia and easily draws a fluid flick at the corner of each eye.

“There.”

Claudia turns to look in the mirror again. Two delicate cat-eyes, perfectly symmetrical. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“A hundred years of practice,” Madeleine says, a smile in her voice. She presses a kiss to Claudia’s cheek. “Come. The night is waiting for us.”

Madeleine has a penchant for finding and repairing vintage deadstock. Tonight, they’re both dressed in black, the Valentino silk hugging Claudia’s hips. They run down the long staircase of their walk-up and set off into the evening.

The streets of Brooklyn are full of young people, dressed outlandishly, holding hands and smoking joints and listening to music on oversized headphones. Claudia and Madeleine follow the crowd until they reach a jazz bar, dimly lit and smoky.

They find a high-top in the corner to watch the show, ordering cocktails that sit untouched and melting on the table. Claudia leans into Madeleine’s side, running one finger along the condensation on the glass.

I want the saxophone player, Claudia thinks.

Not fair, you always get first pick!

Claudia pokes her in the hip, and Madeleine laughs.

After the show, they find a few of the band members outside smoking. Claudia bums a cigarette off the saxophonist, standing close to him and complimenting him on the performance, eyes wide and innocent.

As she’s aged, she’s learned to play with the boundary of adulthood. In this new era where youth is so commoditized, it’s possible to dance on the edge of jailbait, emphasizing her girlishness while still seeming attainable.

The saxophonist eats it up.

Before long, Claudia has him alone outside the building. He presses her back against the brick, leaning down to whisper something in her ear. She laces her fingers behind his head and pulls him in, just close enough to bring her mouth to his neck.

He collapses over her, and she holds him up easily, enjoying the honeyed taste of his life as she drinks him down. She feels the lifeblood flowing from him, tasting the energy of his mortality, his youth, gathering it into herself. His heartbeat begins to slow, skin growing pale and stiff. She lets him go, dropping the corpse to the ground and wiping the blood from her lips.

Done, she sends to Madeleine. Gotta get rid of the body.

My turn, Madeleine thinks.

Claudia disposes of the corpse and finds Madeleine chatting with a rather drunk girl from the bar. The girl is leaning heavily on Madeleine’s shoulder and laughing loudly, smelling of vodka and vomit.

Sometimes, Madeleine likes to play with her food.

They bring the mortal to another bar and order her water and French fries. She cries about her ex-boyfriend, makeup smearing down her face, and Madeleine hums sympathetically and rubs her back.

“Wanna come back to our apartment?” Claudia offers.

They’re halfway there when the mortal stops to vomit again, leaning over in an alleyway and retching. Madeleine holds her hair back and turns to Claudia.

Enough, Claudia thinks.

Madeleine shrugs carelessly. The girl rises to her feet, wiping her lips, and Madeleine turns her around and presses her back against the dumpster.

Claudia watches her feed. The sight always makes her a bit hot and bothered, Madeleine hunched over the mortal, monstrous and inhuman, pulling the life from her veins. She finishes and tosses her hair, shoves the body in the dumpster, and turns back to Claudia, eyes sparkling.

“Delicious,” Madeleine says aloud, and laughs. She steps closer to Claudia, stumbles slightly, and grabs for Claudia’s arm to steady herself. “Oh, goodness.”

“Are you drunk?” Claudia wraps an arm around her waist, reaching with one hand to fix Madeleine’s smeared lipstick.

Madeleine giggles under her breath and leans her forehead on Claudia’s shoulder. “Deliciously drunk.”

She presses her lips to Claudia’s neck, and then licks at her skin, tongue hot and wet with blood.

Okay, let’s go home, Claudia decides. Madeleine hums noncommittally and begins mouthing at her jaw.

Claudia slings Madeleine’s arm over her shoulders and they begin stumbling back to their apartment, Claudia nearly falling under her weight.

Madeleine keeps pressing kisses to her face and petting at her skin, relentless, slowing their progress. Just wait until we get back, Claudia thinks, I’ll get you for this. Madeleine laughs, playing with Claudia’s hair.

They pause outside a closed bookshop around the corner from their place. Madeleine pushes Claudia back against the window, kissing her messily, teeth bumping together. Claudia groans and kisses her back for a moment before pushing her away.

“Fine, I’ll wait,” Madeleine pouts. Then her eyes flick to something behind Claudia’s back and she freezes.

Before she can say anything, Claudia is turning around. Her blood runs cold.

In the window of the bookstore, on the bestseller’s table, is a novel titled Interview with the Vampire. Below the title reads “The dark tale of Louis de Pointe du Lac.”

“Claudia –” Madeleine starts, but Claudia is already using her strength to break the lock of the door. She steps inside, grabbing the book from the display, and is off down the street within seconds.

Madeleine follows just behind her, trying to speak to her, but the blood rushing in Claudia’s ears seems to block her out. What has Louis done?

She races back to their apartment, up the long flights of stairs and sits on the couch, barely noticing Madeleine hovering at her side.

Reading at vampiric speed, she begins to consume the book, pages turning under her quick fingers. As she takes in the story, rage builds in her chest, bubbling up and threatening to boil over.

“Ugh!” Finished, Claudia throws the book aside. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a clatter. She buries her face in her hands.

“…Claudia?” Madeleine says hesitantly.

Claudia looks up, glaring at her. “He never saw me as anything more than a child,” she says coldly. “I was always his little girl.” Before Madeleine can speak, Claudia is on her feet, pacing around the room. “And Lestat was right! Louis begged for me to be turned, got down on his fucking knees and begged for my existence. What right did he have!”

She picks the book up off the floor and tosses it to Madeleine. “Read it for yourself.”

Madeleine sits down and begins paging through the book. As she reads, Claudia paces back and forth, muttering to herself under her breath.

“Lestat, Lestat, Armand, Armand. Never gave a fuck about me.”

Finally, Madeleine sets the book aside. “Claudia, it seems to me like he cares about you a lot.”

“He feels guilty,” Claudia snaps, turning on her. “I’m a wound to his conscience, nothing more.”

“Clearly, he sees you as a daughter.” Madeleine rises to her feet. “Perhaps you should meet with him. Tell him you’re alive.”

Claudia laughs harshly. “Meet with him! Fucking hell, Madeleine, did we read the same book?”

“Why would he do this interview, if not as a cry for attention?”

“He thinks I’m dead. He ain’t crying out to me.” Claudia crosses her arms over her chest. “Probably crying out to fucking Lestat, as usual. It’s funny how he hasn’t changed a bit.”

“It would benefit you both to work some of this out.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“I know you, Claudia, and I know this has been bothering you for the last seventy years! Clearly, it’s been haunting Louis even more!” Madeleine steps closer to her, but Claudia backs away, shaking her head.

“Maybe I want to haunt him!” Claudia spits at her, voice rising above human decibels. “Maybe I want to be a ghost! He doesn’t deserve to know I’m alive, not after how he treated me!”

“Merde, Claudia, now you do sound like a child!”

That hits like a knife to the gut. “Fuck you, Madeleine!” Claudia screams. She storms into their bedroom and slams the door behind her.

Claudia doesn’t admit Madeleine is right, exactly – she’s not capable of such a thing, neither of them are – but she does come around to see her point of view.

It takes them several months to find Louis.

For a while, all signs point to an elaborate tower in Dubai. When they get there, the building is cold and empty. They eat their human private investigators. The next ones manage to track down the author of the book, an arrogant fledgling who refuses to give them information as to Louis’ whereabouts.

“You could just reach out to him with your mind,” Madeleine points out, but Claudia insists that it will ruin the theatrical effect of their resurrection.

Eventually, they find the house in Washington State, a tiny cabin high up in a pine forest.

On foot, they climb up the long dirt road through the trees, shoes silent on the blanket of needles. Bright moonlight filters through the branches, lighting their way.

Claudia feels still and cold, isolated from the world around her. Madeleine follows her without a word.

They haven’t discussed what she’s going to say.

The house is nestled in the trees at the top of the hill. All the windows are dark but one, where they can see the flickering of candlelight. Claudia pauses for a moment outside to lower her mental shields.

He must be able to sense their presence, but the house stays still and silent.

Refusing to hesitate, Claudia approaches the front door and pushes it open. It creaks loudly, echoing through the dark living room. Madeleine follows her inside. Down a long hall, light shines from beneath a closed door.

Louis is sitting hunched over a desk, writing something by the light of a single candle. His hand moves furiously across the paper, scribbling out page after page of cramped, messy text. He doesn’t look up as Claudia and Madeleine step into the room.

The sight of him makes something catch in Claudia’s chest.

She clears her throat. “Louis.”

His hand pauses for a moment, shoulders stiffening infinitesimally, and then he continues writing. Claudia feels anger begin to build up in the pit of her stomach.

“What? You don’t think I’m real?”

“I know you’re not real,” Louis says without looking up. The familiar sound of his voice sends a prickle down Claudia’s spine.

Before Madeleine can stop her, she’s striding across the room and grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him roughly around. He stares up at her, shocked. He’s dressed in an old, holey sweatshirt and black pants, hairy messy, face drawn as if he hasn’t fed in days.

He looks her up and down, slowly, taking in her neat turtleneck and blue jeans, her braided hair.

“Usually you’re wearing yellow.”

“I’m not a hallucination, Louis, or a ghost, or whatever you want to call it,” Claudia snaps. “I’m here because I read your stupid book.”

“The interview?”

“No, your other self-pitying memoir," Claudia says, cold and sarcastic.

Madeleine steps forward to stand behind her. “We survived the fire,” she says simply. “We’ve been hiding from you for the last seventy years.”

Louis runs his hands over his face. “This is a new kind of fucked up.”

Claudia squeezes his shoulder, tightly, nails digging into his flesh. She reaches out with her mind, and feels the brush of his thoughts against hers, familiar still after so many years. He flinches, looking near tears.

I’m not an apparition, Louis. How can I prove it to you?

Louis stares at her for a moment, searching her expression. He reaches out a shaking hand to touch her cheek, fingers brushing gently against her skin, and then closes his eyes. A bloody tear drips down his face.

I wish I could believe you.

Claudia gives into her frustration and grabs for Louis’ forearm, holding it tightly. “Claudia-“ Madeleine starts, but she’s already bringing his wrist to her mouth and burying her teeth in his flesh.

In the rush of blood, she tries to show him the truth: how they survived the trial, their long boat ride back to America, decades spent in Philadelphia and Chicago and Montreal, eventually settling in Brooklyn. She can feel his shock, his incredulity slowly transforming into wonder.

She’s overwhelmed by the flood of his thoughts and finds herself sinking under the waves. She watches his years spent with Armand, traveling first, then haunting the nightlife of San Francisco and New York City, building the tower in Dubai. The slow dissolution of their companionship, built on lies and manipulation. Built on her murder.

And, after all that, Louis embracing Lestat in the middle of a hurricane, forgiving him for his crimes against them.

Disgusted, Claudia pulls back, dropping his arm and wiping the blood from her lips.

Louis blinks up at her, eyes round and wet. “…Claudia?”

“You spent seventy years fucking the man who killed me?” Claudia snaps, unable to hold back her anger.

Louis rises to his feet, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “You’re really here,” he murmurs. Then he’s pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest as he used to when she called him her father.

She stiffens, standing still and cold. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing his face to the top of her head and taking a deep, shaky breath. The familiar smell of him, the solidity of his arms around her, seems to cut through her rage and frustration, softening the turmoil inside of her.

Eventually, he pulls back, gripping her by the shoulders and staring at her. My baby girl, he thinks.

That snaps her out of it immediately.

“I’m not a baby.” Claudia takes a step back, forcing him to release her. “And I’m not here to absolve you. You stayed with Armand for decades, knowing that he killed me, and then immediately went back to Lestat, my other murderer?”

“I thought you were dead; I didn’t know…”

“Obviously.” Claudia glares at him. “The way you talked about me… You never stopped seeing me as a child. You’ve been hallucinating me, huh? I’m nothing but a symbol to you, a manifestation of your conscience.”

“But you’re alive,” Louis says. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Claudia. We can start over.”

“Start over! We’ve tried to start over before. Remember how that turned out?”

“Did you come here just to yell at me?”

“Are you fucking Lestat?”

Before Louis can respond, Madeleine steps forwards, brushing a reassuring hand against Claudia’s shoulder. Claudia takes a deep breath.

“It was my idea to reveal ourselves to you,” Madeleine says. “I thought you both deserved… closure.”

“Closure,” Louis repeats. He sits back down with a sigh, running his hand across his face. “Okay. Fine. You’re right, Claudia, I never stopped seeing you as my daughter and I probably never will. I raised you from childhood. I can’t help it. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Are you or are you not back with Lestat,” Claudia says coldly.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Jesus Christ, Louis, you never learn.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Louis says. “Maybe you’re right about everything. To be honest, Claudia, I don’t care! You’re alive! That’s all that matters to me.”

Claudia laughs roughly. She had forgotten how Louis manages to get under her skin like no one else, sending her constantly simmering rage into a boil, making her want to storm off and murder someone.

Madeleine reaches out with her mind, a soothing presence, cooling Claudia’s anger. “Okay,” Claudia says. “Okay. I am alive. That’s my gift to you, Louis, that you know I’m alive.” She steps back from him, taking Madeleine’s hand in hers and gripping it tightly.

“You’re leaving?” Louis sounds oddly hurt.

“Don’t tell Lestat about me,” Claudia continues. “I’m not ready to deal with him yet.”

Louis rises to his feet. “Don’t – we can’t just let you leave –”

“You’re not my father. You don’t get to decide that.”

Madeleine squeezes her hand. “Maybe we will see you again,” she says. “But I think Claudia needs time.”

“You’ve had seventy years!”

“Goodbye, Louis,” Claudia says.

He stares at her, visibly wrestling with the desire to force her to stay, to talk to him and reconcile. Finally, he gives in, sitting back in his chair with a little sigh. 

“I love you, Claudia.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves the room, hand clutched in Madeleine’s. Alone in the dark, silent house, Louis closes his eyes and feels their presence recede into the night.