[Trilijah] Untitled 02



Elijah Mikaelson (The Originals) & Darren (Wasted on the Young)

Continuing after Offer

“It… It can’t be…” Zack squeezed out a few words with great difficulty, half due to his throat being caught in an absurdly strong hand and half due to the horror of seeing a living dead person.

“Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?” Darren stated, monotonously. Glowing electrically in the dim light of the garage, Darren’s blue eyes drilled into Zack’s face, drinking in the fear that etched into his enlarged pupils, his hollow cheeks and his mouth slightly agape.

Even his perspiration stank of dread. Darren could smell it.

When Elijah – hid former history teacher had insisted on first name basis on day one of Darren’s life as a vampire – proposed to take him to New Orleans, Darren agreed without a thought. There was nothing left for him in this town but the grotesque shadows of his ex-life. Still, before their scheduled departure, he had to collect one item from his old dwelling. He couldn’t bear to let it fall into a fate it never deserved – discarded in some trash heap and crushed into thousands plastic pieces.

With his newfound abilities, Darren found it easy as cake to jump through the high gate and bypass the surveillance cameras. He crushed them nonetheless, heeding Elijah’s instructions for avoiding unnecessary complications.

He saw feeble light emitting from the garage, where he found Zack alone and drinking to the brink of wasted. It was rare to see him without his sidekicks and in such pathetic state. Darren guessed although he had survived thanks to his devoted sycophants, at the same time he had lost a fair number of them. Brook and Jonathan, for instance.

“In another reality I should be lying in the morgue at the moment but instead here I am. You want to know why?”

“What are you? A ghost? Zombie”

Darren’s gaze landed on the artery on Zack’s neck, bulging and prominent due to the force of Darren’s hold. The fluid inside was rushing and it was as if the vampire in him had injected itself into the vein and was swimming along the bloodstream. His gums itched, were tore open and he didn’t need a reflective surface to check for the characteristic gray veins gathering around his sockets.

“You tell me,” Darren said in icy sultriness, deliberately baring the best, or worst, truth of his existence.

And he drank his step-brother’s terror as though he did Zack’s blood.

The thirst felt like sandpaper rubbing his throat. The pain of a newborn he suffered so often.

Darren supposed he could kill Zack at this very moment, ripping out his head or heart with his bare hands, making a genuine horror show for the cops to discover. The idea swung back and forth in his mind like a pendulum, and each time it returned to the murder point, his fingers unconsciously tightened. Zack gagged, clawing at his forearm with desperate and futile strength.

With a sigh only his mind could hear, Darren loosened his grip, causing Zack to flop down on the sofa, boneless and empty as though a sack in which all the rice had flooded out. In the end his rationality had won over his instinct, fueled by the hunger to sink his fangs into Zack’s vein. Zack was the way he was simply because everyone around kind of let him. If Darren wanted vengeance, he might just kill the whole school, teachers and students, and even such a large-scale massacre was pointless since neither Xandrie could come back to life nor Darren could return to the high school boy he used to be.

Darren leaned in, almost pressing Zack fast against the leather sofa. He locked gaze with Zack’s, his blue, glowing eyes dilating as he pronounced each word as clearly as he could with the thirst clawing inside him. “I won’t kill you – I had no such intention when I came here – but that doesn’t mean I will leave you without a parting gift, my brother…”

Compulsion was a curious thing. Elijah had praised him for having a decent command of it in a matter of hours after his transformation.

Now it was his intended means to exact vengeance.

They came searching for Zack since he hadn’t shown up at school nor at the swimming club for days and when they entered the house, they found him alone in the dark basement, dehydrated and malnourished, with dazed eyes and mouth that wouldn’t stop murmuring gibberish.

There was only one word they could make out: Darren.

“I am surprised that you didn’t kill him,” Elijah said after doing a quick scan of his newest protégé and finding him free of blood…

…and in dire need of some, so he gave him a blood bag. O negative and freshly out of the hospital, thus compensating enough for warm fluid from the vein.

Darren gave a small nod in gratitude before he ripped the seal and gulped down the content. Elijah sure knew how needy infant vampires were. “I came to retrieve my thing. It wasn’t in my plan to murder him,” Darren said once his throat no longer felt like being rubbed by sandpaper, reaching into his pocket and took out a carefully wrapped CD.

A tiny smile crept up Elijah’s lips when he turned to the chauffeur, who had been compelled to stay deaf and mute to the two vampires’ exchanged words, and told him to ignite the engine.

“We’re still a little early for schedule. Is there any particular place to which you want to pay a visit?”

“Yes,” he answered after a pause, somewhat hesitantly. “Could we stop at the cemetery?”


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