My Guardian Angel, the Vampire

I saw him for the first time in twenty years during my last real date with Laurent, in Café Ambré. I stood, turned for my coat, and bumped into the man walking by.

"Sorry," we said in unison, and our eyes locked.

His were orange.

He was already disappearing amongst the crowd. Laurent was calling my name. I ignored him, manoeuvered my way toward the stranger, reached out, grabbed his arm. He stopped, allowed me to turn him around.

I knew those eyes.

"Have we met before?"

He smiled, slow and warm. My heart stopped.

Fangs, grazing his lower lip.

I should have been scared, but I felt... safe. His eyes twinkled knowingly, and then, just like that, he was gone, and my fingers clutched the empty air.

I elbowed my way back through the café and out the door.

"Eloise! Wait!" Laurent caught up with me, panting, my coat in his arms. "What's going on?"

"I know that man."

"Where from?"

I shook my head. "It's been twenty years. He— he looks the same."

Worry etched into his brow. "Eloise, what are you saying?"

"He's—" I stopped. Turned to him. "He looks exactly like the man who killed my parents." His face paled. "And—"

"'And'?!"

"I saw his fangs, Laurent."

Laurent pursed his lips. "Eloise, not this again—"

"I mean, just then. At the café. He… showed them to me."

Laurent eyed me, fear mingling with worry. I reclaimed my coat, rummaging inside its pockets.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to work."

"It's the middle of the night—!"

I pulled out my keys and turned the corner.

Laurent didn't follow.

*****

In my bookshop, L’amoureuse des Livres, I pulled out every single book regarding local legends, mythical creatures. Vampires. It was hours before I found anything useful. I called Laurent.

"Eloise?"

"I found something. I'll pick you up tomorrow at sunset."

Silence, then, "Eloise, it's four in the morning."

I glanced at my watch. So it was. "Sorry. I— I didn't realise."

A sigh. "I'll be ready. Go to bed."

*****

"So, what are we doing here?"

Laurent and I were parked on the end of Sanguine Boulevard.

"We're going door-to-door."

"Why?"

I handed him one of the books I'd studied that morning, The Vampire of Éternellement Point. "This book was written by a local paranormal investigator, Darian Clement, claiming that a vampire lives in this town. On this very street." Laurent shot me a dubious glance. I pressed on. "The vampire's name is Antoine. He's described as—" I grabbed the book from Laurent, flipped to one of the pages I'd marked— "'a tall, lithe figure, dark wavy hair slicked back, eyes an unnatural amber.' Tall, wavy black hair, orange eyes. Just like the man who killed my parents and the man from the café. And, considering that this street is only—"

"Two streets away from your childhood home…"

"Exactly!"

"And… what's this reporter doing now?"

"He's um… he's missing, presumed dead—" Laurent let out a breath and I blushed. "He disappeared shortly after this book was published."

"And you're still looking into this, why?"

Despite his admonishment, I beamed. "So, you believe Antoine killed him for spilling his secrets—?"

"No! I just—" Laurent sighed, dragged his hand down his face. "I'm worried about you, Eloise. I don’t want you getting killed!"

I stepped out of the car. "I won't."

He followed suit. "How do you know?"

"Antoine could have killed me when I was five, but he didn't." I approached the first door. "He saved me, Laurent. Not only from the fire. He saved me from them."

My parents: my father, who would chain me to a table in the shed whenever I'd eaten too much chocolate or fallen asleep in front of the TV, and my mother, who'd enjoyed putting out her cigarettes on my arms and legs.

The official story goes that I'd burned down the garden shed, killing my abusive parents within, then, worried about the consequences, fabricated the story of the tall man with wavy black hair and orange eyes and fangs, who had sucked both my parents dry in front of me, then carried me out of the burning shed, the blaze started by the cigarette my mother had been smoking, and put me down on the neighbour's porch, his gentle voice saying, "Don't worry, Eloise. You're safe now. I promise," before disappearing into the night.

Nobody believed me except Laurent. But even he drew the line at fangs and bloodsucking, attributing them to a child's overactive imagination.

"What will you do if you find him?"

"I'm going to talk to him."

"You're not serious."

"I need answers, Laurent."

"At the expense of your life?"

I ignored him and knocked on the door.

*****

"This is a waste of time," Laurent said as I knocked on the eleventh door.

"Am I risking my life or wasting my time? It can't be both."

I felt Laurent's glare as the door swung open, revealing a smartly dressed man in all-black.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello!" I plastered on my customer-service smile. "Are you the owner of this establishment?"

"I work for him. State your business."

"We sell tinted windows." His smile was plastic. I forced my voice to remain cheery. "Heavily… tinted. Block out the sun nearly completely—"

I froze, my voice dying in my throat.

There he was, at the end of the corridor, orange eyes piercing mine even from this distance, penetrating my very mind and soul—

I was in my childhood backyard. An intense heat on my back— the garden shed up in flames. In my arms, a girl with big brown liquid eyes, bruises on her wrists, burns on her arms. It was me. I was looking at me, through his eyes, the day he saved me. Then we were on the neighbour's porch, and I was putting her down and tucking her hair behind her ears and saying in his quiet voice, "Don't worry, Eloise. You're safe now. I promise—"

"We're not interested." Back on the doorstep, the man in black was closing the door. "Please leave and never come back."

"Wait—!"

The latch slid shut.

"It's him," I breathed.

"Eloise?" Laurent's fingers grazed my arm. "Are you alright? You look pale."

"It was Antoine. He killed my parents."

"You're sure?"

"I saw it. He— he showed me."

"Just then?" I started down the street to my car. "Showed you what?" Laurent called.

"I need to speak with him. Alone. Catch him while he's out."

"How are you going to do that?"

"A stakeout."

Laurent stared at me. "You mean— you mean stalking. You're going to stalk a killer."

I got in the car. "He'll need to eat, right? Hunt? He'll have to come out at some point."

*****

We were parked amongst the bushes across the street from Antoine's house. I was alone; Laurent had left ten minutes prior to get snacks. Movement from the house: the man who worked for Antoine getting into his car, driving down the street… the same way Laurent had gone. My pulse quickened. I turned my attention back to the house— a great rev then a loud thud— my heart leapt into my throat. I opened my door, but the car was coming back and I shut it again, shrinking behind the steering wheel. Antoine's worker parked and returned inside. I waited another ten seconds before leaping out of the car and down the street. There was a small mound on the side of the road, a huddled form with blonde hair shining under the light of a streetlamp. My heart stopped, my blood growing cold.

It was Laurent.

*****

In the emergency department, doctors swarmed around us as Laurent was laid on a stretcher and pushed through the double doors.

"Will he survive?" I cried to the one closest to me.

The look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

*****

To my relief, the car was missing from the driveway when I returned.

I pounded on the front door so hard my fist ached. He pulled it open, orange eyes growing wide as he took in the sight of me.

"Eloise?" he whispered. "You're covered in blood—"

"I need your help." Without thinking, I reached out with a hand still sticky with drying blood and grabbed his, clean and soft, before leading him down the driveway to my car. "Get in."

The passenger seat was soaked in blood.

"What happened?"

"Laurent's in the hospital." I started the engine. "We need to go. Now."

*****

We sped down the street, Antoine's gaze on the side of my face. "Eloise, tell me what happened."

"The man who works for you—" my voice was low, accusing. "He ran him over—!"

"Marcel?" He looked horrified. "He doesn’t work for me. He's another vampire. He was sent to keep me in check."

There it was. Confirmation that I had been right all along, so nonchalantly put; "another vampire". I would have laughed if Laurent's blood wasn't crusting upon my skin.

"Keeping you in check—?"

"He's against my making myself known to you."

Making himself known… "You've been watching me."

A nervous chuckle. I caught another glimpse of his fangs. "More... watching over you."

I scoffed. "My guardian angel, the vampire?"

He nodded. "Did you think it was mere coincidence, our bumping into each other at Café Ambré?"

When he put it like that—

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "This is all my fault. I refused to let him kill you, and his price was that I never saw you again. This— this was an example. A warning—"

"Why does he want to kill me?!" I cried. "I'm nobody!"

"You're a loose end. I should have killed you twenty years ago."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was going to." His voice dropped, barely audible over the screeching tyres. "But when you looked at me…" He paused, his eyes glazing over. "Most people look at me with fear in their eyes. But you… you looked at me like I was your saviour."

Tears dripped into my lap. "You were," I whispered. A tiny smile flickered across his face.

The thought hit me like a revelation: this vampire cared for me. He'd fought against his very nature to save me, stood against his own kind to protect me.

He would help me now. I was sure of it.

"I need you to save Laurent."

We careened to a halt outside the hospital. I switched off the engine, turned to him. His face had fallen.

"Heal him. You can do that, can't you?"

He stared straight ahead. "I can, but…"

"Please, Antoine. I'll do anything—" At the mention of his name, his gaze snapped to mine, anguished. "I'll give you whatever you want—!"

"Eloise—"

"What do you want with me, Antoine—?!"

"To make you a vampire!"

I froze.

The life of a vampire. Killing every day just to survive… strength, flight, speed, telekinesis…

Immortality.

An eternal life... With Laurent.

It was my fault he was in the hospital. But now... I could fix it.

"Okay."

Antoine eyed me. "You're sure?"

I nodded frantically. "Yes. But Laurent first."

His eyes widened. He looked torn. "Eloise—"

"Turn him into a vampire."

Silence, save for my ragged breathing. Antoine stared at me, his eyes silently pleading.

"Do it for me," I whispered. Even as the words left my lips, I knew he couldn't refuse. "Please. Then you can have me."

His resolve melted before my eyes. His shoulders slumped, his head hung, his eyes lowered, even his sigh was small and quiet.

"Alright."

*****

We strode through the emergency department, Antoine's face tight with concentration, and nurses and doctors dropped their tasks and walked blankly out the door.

"This way," he said.

Inside a brightly lit room, Laurent lay alone on the table, blood pooled in wide open wounds.

I guarded the door as Antoine took his position.

"Ready?"

A shudder ran down my spine. I nodded.

A mixture of horror and awe tangled within me as Antoine lifted his wrist to Laurent's lips and brought a sharp nail to his vein—

A grip on my upper arms so tight I cried out, and I was yanked backwards against something fleshy yet cold. Antoine's head jerked upwards, his face terror-stricken.

"Marcel, no!"

"You broke your promise, Antoine." Icy breath curled around my ear. I suppressed a scream. The terror on Antoine's face morphed into a look of horrified understanding.

"This wasn't a warning," he whispered. "It was a trap!"

"I knew you couldn't resist helping her." The grip tightened around my arms, sharp nails drawing blood. "And now, she'll die for your weakness."

A piercing pain in my neck and Antoine cried out. My blood was being sucked out of me, being pulled through every artery, every vein. My head spun; the room swam. Antoine, growing blurrier by the second, glanced frantically around the room, then stopped, his gaze fixed on something…

The machine wired to Laurent. The only thing keeping his heart beating.

"No…" I tried to say, but no sound came out as Antoine grabbed the machine and tore it aside, the tubes ripping themselves out of Laurent, jerking his body off the table.

My knees buckled, only Marcel's iron-grip keeping me upright. The edges of my vision blackened. In my shrinking tube of sight, Antoine picked Laurent up with one hand then moved like a flash of light to tear Marcel off me. I crashed to the floor, too numb to feel pain. My cheek against the cold tile, I forced one eye open to see Antoine holding Laurent over Marcel's face, blood gushing from the open wounds into Marcel's mouth, Marcel making a horrible gurgling sound, his body thrashing in his immaculate black suit… then nothing.

The next few moments came back in flashes: a cold hand on my cheek, soft and gentle, tilting my face upwards, something hot and thick dripping into my mouth, onto my lips, Antoine's face hovering over mine, his voice tender as the day we met, saying, "Don’t worry, Eloise. You're safe. I've got you," then black.

*****

The next time I opened my eyes I was in my car, my forehead pressed against the window. Even in what I knew to be pitch darkness, I could make out the colours of the wildflowers we sped past. I peeled my face off the window, turned to the driver's seat.

Antoine. Covered in blood.

"Laurent?" I croaked.

"I'm sorry." His voice was thick with despair.

For a moment, I felt nothing. "You killed him."

"I had to."

No. It couldn't be. "You were supposed to save him!"

"It was the only way to save you!"

I was angry now. The heat of it flowed through my veins. "Happy now? You've got me all to yourself. Isn't that what you wanted—?"

"No! That’s not—" His voice cracked. "I just wanted to keep you safe." In a whisper, "I promised I'd keep you safe."

My anger subsided even as it arrived.

He was hunched over, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles paled, the look on his face a mixture of broken and manic.

Something warm and sticky was running down my cheeks. I wiped it away on the back of my hand. Red. I froze, brought my fingers just under my eyes. Blood.

"Oh God. Oh God!"

"It's alright! Eloise, it's normal—"

"Normal?!"

"It's normal for vampires to cry blood!"

I stared at my fingers, at the blood that had come out of my eyes, the long, sharp nails, the paleness of my skin.

My voice shook. "I'm— I'm a—"

"A vampire," Antoine said quietly, as though to soften the blow. "Yes."

I took a handful of deep breaths, steadying my heartbeat. It was loud, like drums were being played in the car. There were two rhythms, mine and… Antoine's. His was slower, steadier than mine, but in a way that seemed forced, like he was trying just as hard as I to remain calm.

"Marcel," I finally said to hear something other than those drumbeats. "How did you get rid of him?"

"I killed him." His voice sounded like his heartbeat. Steady. Even. Forced.

"How?"

"Laurent's blood. Dead blood is fatal for vampires." He glanced over, his face earnest. "You see? I had no choice."

I looked away. I didn't want to think about Laurent.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe. We're fugitives now."

"Because we killed Laurent?"

"Because we killed Marcel. The human police are of no concern to us. It's our kind we must worry about. The sentence for killing fellow vampires is death."

The human police. Our kind.

Antoine must have heard the steady rising of my heartbeat, because he looked at me and said, "Don't worry, Eloise. I'll never let anything happen to you."

I was back in the garden shed, carrying the little crying girl away from the blaze. Then, in the shadows of the orphanage, watching that girl being teased by a boy, then in the corner of the boy's room, baring my fangs, making him promise never to bully her again. Then, in the mall, watching a teenage girl wince as her first boyfriend grasped her arm and hissed that next time, he would slap her across the face, then I was outside his front door, snatching him from the steps and drinking him dry. Then, opposite the bookshop as a woman locked up, unaware of the man behind her wielding a knife, and before he could pounce on her, pouncing on him, dragging him into an alleyway and drinking him too.

Back in the car, I turned to Antoine. Slowly, he met my gaze, his own eyes red-rimmed.

'My guardian angel, the vampire,' I'd called him only hours before.

He'd watched over me my entire life. And deep inside my thundering heart I knew, even as he sped me away towards places unknown, that he would protect me for eternity.