Dermot looked down at his hands, briefly examining his nails. "How?"
Elspeth folded her arms across her chest. "Evelyn."
Dermot leant back in the chair, his hand to his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later." He looked at her sadly. "Get Pierce."
She hesitated for a moment before leaving to do as he'd said.
He stood up slowly, and walked to the open window, resting his hands on the sill.
He heard Pierce enter, but didn't turn to greet him.
"Dermot, I'm sorry about Kit." He coughed softly, stumbling over his words. "I know what he was to you."
Dermot turned, examining the creature before him. A tall, lank figure in dirty jeans and jacket, whose hair hung about his face in thick strands. His newest creation, Pierce had nothing on his own six centuries. A young one, made for the new millennium, who knew nothing of the old Romanticism, only the cold harshness of the here and now.

Dermot cleared his head, realising he'd been staring too long at his companion. "He's trying me. Seeing how far he can push me. I want you to pay Evelyn a visit and invite him here. I wish to talk to him, make that clear, and that if he agrees, no harm will come to him."
Pierce looked at him, confused.
"Pierce, don't question me, just do as I say."
Pierce nodded briefly, then turned to leave.
"Wait." Dermot called him back, as he began to write something on a small card. He handed it to Pierce. "Go."

Pierce sat uncomfortably in the only chair present in the room, a cigarette between his lips. He'd been waiting for almost two hours, and it was now almost dawn. If Evelyn didn't show up soon, he'd be forced to leave. He flicked his lighter, to keep himself amused. He heard footsteps echoing off the stone walls of the long passage to this room. Evelyn started upon seeing Pierce, his waxen face frozen in an expression of apprehension. "Who are you? What are you doing in my home?"

Pierce looked about him at the stark, damp, stone walled chamber, laughing quietly. "You call this a home?" He flicked the cigarette butt into the corner and stood up. "Dermot wants to see you." He withdrew a fine silver cigarette case from his jacket pocket and, removing a cigarette, took out the small card. Evelyn stared at him suspiciously.
Pierce smiled crookedly, lighting his cigarette. He extended his arm, the card in his hand. "He won't hurt you. You know he could have killed you anytime. It's kinda a shame he didn't. At least Kit would still be here."
Evelyn took the card cautiously.
"See you 'round Evelyn." Pierce patted Evelyn on the shoulder as he made his way down the long passage to the street level.

Evelyn looked down at the card, reading the address written in a decorative script with red ink. He took a fob watch from his pocket, checking the time. With only fifteen minutes until sunrise, he had no time to be finding a new resting-place. He would have to risk staying here. How long had Dermot known of this place? He made an effort to change the location of his domicile often, for precisely this reason. He got the impression, however, that no matter where he was, Dermot knew. He was beginning to feel more and more anxious. Killing Christopher had been pure folly. It couldn't have gone undone, though.

Kit had been coming into the age of making his own, and Evelyn could not let any more come into existence. Not, at least, any more that he knew of. He moved aside the large stone slab that concealed a chamber below the room, and slid down into the darkness. His feet firmly on the dirt floor, he reached up and slipped the slab back into place. He thought for a few minutes, lying silently in the darkness, before the daylight slumber began to take him. He would see Dermot when he woke. If not to claim Dermot's life, at least to lose his own.

Evelyn's eyes opened slowly, as the sun fell, enveloping the outside world in darkness. He lay in silence for sometime, planning for this evening before he rose. Eventually he sat up, pushing the stone slab up and to the side. He froze anxiously as he noticed a faint light coming from the room above him. He slowly eased himself up, carefully scanning the room for any signs of life before completely lifting himself out. A candle sat beside his chair, burning brightly in the darkness. As he moved towards it, it flickered and cast shadows upon the walls. He stared at the early nineteenth century outfit, layed out neatly on the chair. He looked away briefly, his fingertips resting lightly on his lips.

He forced himself to look back at it, and picked up the small card resting on it. Written in familiar handwriting was a brief message.
Thought you might like your old clothes back. Humour me.
Dermot.
"Audacious bastard." He whispered to himself. He shook his head before stripping off his clothing. He hung his heavy black coat on a hook on the wall, leaving his shirt, vest and leather pants in a heap on the floor. He held up the antique clothing examining it before putting it on. Dermot had taken extraordinarily good care of these clothes. He always managed to preserve things beautifully; even people. He dressed quickly, and feeling how good it was to wear perfectly tailored clothing, smiled slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memories of his past from his mind.

He pulled a loose brick from the wall, reached in and took out a large steel dagger. It was crude, rusted in places, but it worked, and that was all he cared about. He hooked it on the back of his pants, hiding it beneath his frock coat. He glanced around the room, then walked out the door. He had a feeling about tonight, and it wasn't pleasant. He wondered if he would ever actually see this place again. He stuck to the back-roads and alleyways, avoiding any other people as best he could. He realised his clothes were quite effeminate, and that they could get him into trouble. He finally arrived at the address on the card, and stared up at the building before him.

It was a beautifully restored Georgian mansion, just Dermot's style. As Evelyn walked up to the tall wrought iron gates they swung inwards, allowing him to walk through. The front door was opened for him as he came to the steps, and a figure stood in the doorway, waiting. He was surprised to see it was a woman, despite the boyish figure he'd noticed from a distance. She was a vampire. She had probably about forty when she had been made, but still retained the last few shreds of youthful beauty. She smiled at him. "My name is Elspeth. Dermot has been expecting you, Evelyn." She moved aside to let him pass.

Evelyn walked slowly down the hallway his footsteps silenced by the thick carpet. He came to a stop at the only open door. Pierce sat in a chair beside it, slicing open his palm and watching it heal again. He looked up and smiled at Evelyn, flashing his long, slightly yellowed fangs. Evelyn ignored him, and continued through. He finally came to a room, lighted only by tallow candles scattered about. The smell pleased him, yet sickened him at the same time. He stood in contemplative silence, distracted somewhat by the candles flickering.

"Evelyn."
Evelyn turned quickly to see Dermot walking through the doorway. Dermot smiled slightly and walked a little too slowly to the couch in the middle of the room. His face was illuminated only by the candles, but still Evelyn could see the faint scowl present upon it.
Evelyn swallowed hard. "Why did you have me come here, in this, of all things." He gestured to his outfit.
Dermot looked at him for a long moment. "Sit." This one word was spoken in such a manner that Evelyn found himself complying before he even thought to do other wise. He now sat in a large, soft chair, directly across from Dermot.

Dermot turned his gaze towards another doorway, partially hidden by a bookcase. "Lachlan?"
A tall, delicate, young man entered the room, followed silently by a pretty young woman.
Dermot beckoned her over. "I've kept her strong for you Evelyn. I know you haven't fed for such a long time. And I thought she rather looked like your wife."
Evelyn stared at him expressionlessly, masking with difficulty his rage.
Dermot folded his hands on his lap. "Evelyn, don't tell me you've lost your humour as well as your innocence!" He smiled faintly.
Evelyn still managed to remain passive.

Dermot looked to the woman, realising Evelyn would never feed from her. "Guinevere, leave us, please. Perhaps see Cyrus."
She nodded and left the room silently.
Dermot extended his arm, taking Lachlan's hand. He looked quickly back at Evelyn. "You don't mind do you? I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to drink tonight."
Evelyn waved his hand acquiescently, watching Lachlan sit beside Dermot as he slipped an arm around him.
Dermot glanced at Evelyn before moving in and locking onto Lachlan's neck. Evelyn heard Lachlan gasped quietly as the fangs pierced his flesh. Seeing a thin stream of blood trickle down Dermot's chin, his heart quickened.

Lachlan eyed Evelyn, smiling slightly as his hand disappeared down the front of his pants. Evelyn looked away, revolted by what he had just seen. He examined the room as best he could in such weak light. The room was cluttered with pieces of furniture, mostly bookcases, statuettes and smaller trinkets. He looked back at Dermot, who had broken away from Lachlan. Lachlan gazed at Dermot adoringly, removing the blood from his face with kisses. Evelyn's eyes widened as Dermot cut his own wrist. He was about to get up and stop him, until he saw that Dermot was merely using it to heal Lachlan's wound. Lachlan lay down, resting his head in Dermot's lap. Dermot stroked Lachlan's hair, and turned his attention back to Evelyn.

Evelyn looked at the two of them critically. The devil and his whore. Dermot turned away, smiling slightly. Lachlan sat up, looking at Evelyn curiously. "Why do you look at him as if he were evil?" He took Dermot's hand. "He's merely a part of nature, as are you. Why do you torture yourself over such trivialities?"
Evelyn stared at him blankly. No one had ever confronted him in such a manner and he found himself unable to answer. Dermot smiled at Lachlan.
"You've left our guest speechless." Dermot turned to Evelyn. "How unusual for someone so opinionated."
Evelyn looked away, feeling his cheeks burn.
Dermot looked back to Lachlan. "Dearest, you must leave us now. Go, rest." He kissed Lachlan softly before allowing him to leave the room.

Dermot settled back down on the couch, gazing amusedly at Evelyn. "He's not my whore, Evelyn. Understand that he stays here of his own free will. He has a condition called haemachromatosis, which basically means he has too much blood. He enjoys giving it to me, and I really am quite fond of him. He has the most wonderful ability to see things as they really are."
Evelyn looked at him thoughtfully.
Dermot smiled, responding to Evelyn's thoughts before he had a chance to voice them. "Now Evelyn, just because his views don't agree with yours, they aren't necessarily wrong."
Evelyn leaned back in his chair, avoiding eye contact with Dermot.

Dermot became serious again, the grin disappearing from his face. "We've been watching you for quite some time, which I believe will come as no surprise to you. I've noticed that you've become somewhat 'disenchanted' with life. You force yourself not to drink for days, until you can stand it no longer. Then you torture yourself over the death of the victims you finally take. You choose damp, depressing holes as your abode. And you never live purely for the sake of living. You keep yourself going only by killing your kin, whom you consider immoral. At least they live fulfilling lives. They live for love, pleasure, pain. But most importantly, they are happy and satisfied. If anyone, you are immoral, for not living as you should, making the most of what you have, for not having a purpose." He sat back, tired by his own speech.

Evelyn scrutinised him. "I do have a purpose. To remove those who live only by taking other lives. They may find pleasure and love. They may be happy. But only because they feed on others, drinking down the lives of their victims with the blood. They kill to live forever, shortening other lives to prolong their own."
"That is a part of nature. The weak provide for the strong, Evelyn. That's the way it has always been, and it shall continue to be so."
Dermot stared at him briefly, hesitating to ask what was on his mind. "Why did you kill Kit? I mean him in particular."
Evelyn's expression remained the same. "He was coming of age."

Dermot looked away for a moment, his hand on the side of his face. He turned back, smiling wryly. "Do you plan to kill me too?"
"Yes."
Dermot laughed fitfully, covering his mouth with his hand as he tried to settle down. "You know you never will."
Evelyn looked at him, genuinely curious. "Why not?"
"You know I'm more powerful than you for a start. I'm almost four centuries older than you. Then of course there's the fact that I have this." He pulled Evelyn's dagger out from between the cushions on the couch.
Evelyn looked away, disgusted with himself and Dermot.

"You still blame me for her death, don't you?" Dermot played with the dagger, as he gazed at Evelyn.
Evelyn looked back to him, his eyes shining eerily. He was finding it more and more difficult to contain his anger. "She died because of you!"
Dermot frowned. "If you'd done what I had told you, it wouldn't have happened. Besides, I wasn't the one who stuck the fangs in her neck and drained her dry."
"You made me what I am, you caused her death!" His voice cracked as his emotions began to take hold of him.
"Evelyn, I told you to stay with me, not to go back until you could control the hunger. But you wouldn't accept what had happened, returned, refused to drink until you couldn't control yourself. You killed her Evelyn. I merely gave you the means.

"I wish I hadn't let you go, I truly do. I wish I had forced you to stay with me those first few nights, to teach you everything you ought to know. Perhaps if I had, you wouldn't have ended up in this state. I will take responsibility for that, but I did not kill her Evelyn." He paused, wondering if he should continue. "I wish I had held you, let you suckle from me as if you were my child, but I cannot change the past, and so must live with my mistakes. I do love you, Evelyn, as I love all those I create. You know I do." Dermot avoided looking at Evelyn, afraid of the expression that may have been present upon it. Evelyn stared at him, confused, feeling a tumult of emotions within him.

The candles simultaneously went out. The scents of smoke and burnt tallow mingled in the air as Evelyn stood up defensively. He heard Dermot's low laugh. "Why do you assume I'll hurt you? You, my poor little pessimistic child who has been shown no love."

Evelyn felt a hand on the side of his face, the fingertips playing gently in his hair. He realised he'd been holding his breath as Dermot's hand moved away, and let it out slowly. As he breathed in, the sweet aroma of blood came too. He struggled to keep his eyes open, so overpowered by the thirst he was. His mouth moved already, in anticipation of what it had so long been deprived.

Dermot moved into him, and resting his head on Evelyn's shoulder whispered softly, seductively into his ear. "Drink, Evelyn. You can't kill me. Feel the pleasure of drinking from a heart which never ceases to beat." Dermot kissed him softly on the cheek, making the hairs on the back of Evelyn's neck stand on end. No longer able to control himself, Evelyn bit deeply into Dermot's neck, feeling the rush of red warmth enter his mouth. Feeling his own neck pierced, Evelyn collapsed onto the chair behind them. They became an equilibrium, each taking in as much as the other drew out. In doing this, they reached a level of understanding no mortal mind would ever know. A period of total peace, passion and a pleasant, throbbing pain which served only to heighten the experience. It lasted only minutes, but seemed to them timeless.

Evelyn had known this only once before, the night of his creation. He knew now that he had hungered for it ever since. Dermot broke the cycle of blood, slowly pulling away from Evelyn. He kissed Evelyn tenderly, enfolding him in his arms.
Once again he whispered into Evelyn's ear. "Do you still wish to die, beloved?"
Evelyn closed his eyes, truly happy for the first time in centuries. "No. I want eternity."
Dermot smiled. "Perfect." He plunged the dagger deep into Evelyn's heart, stepping back as the blood began to well up and out of his chest.
Lachlan walked in, a candle in his right hand.

Dermot could now see Evelyn, the lifeless eyes staring blankly at him. Lachlan handed him the candle, and Dermot let the flame engulf Evelyn's body. It burnt quickly, leaving nothing but a black mark and a pile of ashes on the chair.
Dermot frowned. "That's going to leave a nasty stain."
Lachlan grinned. "Why did you go to all this trouble just to kill him?"
"Because if I'd just sent Pierce or Cyrus, it wouldn't have been really killing him."
Lachlan stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
Dermot smiled patiently. "He was miserably unhappy, with no will to live, Lachlan. Thus, he had no life to lose. I gave him one first. Only when he wanted to live could I truly take his life."
Lachlan looked at him slightly frightened by what he had just been told. "Remind me never to piss you off."
Dermot smiled, placing his arm over Lachlan's shoulders. "Lachlan darling, you never could. You're just my sweet little whore."