Magic in Our Blood

200 words :: Vampire Chronicles :: Louis/Armand :: 10/21/05
Armand never breathes, and I wonder if after hundreds of years, I, too, will stop breathing. It is only a reflex, after all, no longer necessary for our continued existence.


The candle on the nightstand is maybe two feet from where I lie, too far to touch even if I reach out, but I can see the beads of wax dripping down as clearly as if it if were right before my face. It has been a hundred years now, yet I still marvel at little things like this. How can our eyes see such detail? What magic is it in our blood that transforms us so?

Armand shifts behind me, bringing his hand up to rest on my hip as he presses a kiss between my shoulderblades. He leaves his face pressed there and it’s all I can do not to shiver. He doesn’t breathe. He never breathes, and I wonder if after hundreds of years, I, too, will stop breathing. It is only a reflex, after all, no longer necessary for our continued existence.

I take a deep breath, almost a sigh, and I remember lying with Lestat and feeling his breath against my skin. Cool and inhuman, but breath all the same. My chest hitches and in my head Armand asks what’s wrong. I push him out and turn in his arms, silent as our lips meet.