"Oh, I will tell you what I want," Miranda began, Eleonora's eyes escaping hers. "I know, super-hearing isn't something you're used to. William doesn't use it often, does he?" She chuckled.
"What are you going to do with us?" William asked, looking up at Miranda.
She exhaled through her nostrils. "That's a good question. What am I going to do with you?" She wandered around for a moment, her hand patting her thigh. "Hmm, well, I knew the answer to this question from the beginning. Your escaping was just a delay on the way to your destiny."
"Destiny?"
"Yes. Destiny. You all played a role in that."
William frowned. "In what exactly?"
She shot him a glare. "Don't interrupt me if you don't want to have a gag shoved in your mouth." She paused and turned to the others. "So, Trevor was never supposed to be our meal. From the beginning, he was supposed to be much more than that. A revolution the world has never seen before." Her arms stretched out. "You know that he satisfies one condition, don't you, William?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The vamparization condition," she explained, the corners of her mouth rising at the blond's fright. "We're going to make him satisfy the other one." Her smile widened. "You know what it means. We're going to make him the first vampire-made vampire. Something that previously did not occur in nature."
William blanched. "You're not. It's impossible."
"Oh, I think it is now. Houston's made big progress. And well, you don't have much to say about it—you're going to die anyway. Well, at least as soon as you can die. Cut into pieces and buried underground or, better, scattered around the globe. Doesn't it sound like a pleasant way to go?"
William had controlled himself until this point, but couldn't any more. For the first time since decades, his heart began to palpitate in his chest. He could feel blood rushing to his face, reddening his ears and cheeks; he didn't know his body could still do that. Pressing his back against the pole, he wanted to sink into it and disappear completely.
"Miranda, please. Don't do it to him. It will crush him," William begged. "He doesn't want to be our kind."
"Shut your filthy mouth. You've never liked our kind," she snapped. "You've always been around humans. Liking them, loving them, and fucking them. I don't care. But you've never understood us." She leaned over William and put a finger up in front of his face, far enough so he couldn't bite it off. "I didn't want to become a vampire either. It was scary. Yet it was my destiny. A thousand years ago, I was chosen to become one, and my duty is to continue the line-age of the vampire-kind. None of you is going to stop me." She straightened up and stamped her foot.
William knew he couldn't convince Miranda, knew she'd become insane. Since when did vampires have a duty in this world? He asked himself. Since when did anyone have one? He glanced at the other vampires: no one made eye contact with him except for Jackson.
"Jackson," he began, pleading in his tone, "she can't. She can't."
"I can't?" Miranda spoke instead. "You have to become realistic, William. Jackson has changed his opinion about the vampire-kind. He won't listen to your pathetic pleas. It's pointless." She rolled her eyes. "I've already won. You have to accept it."
And this was how the vampires left the warehouse.
The sky began to grow dark. A silence prevailed inside, with the exception of the wind that blew against the walls and roof. Trevor was lost in thought, or rather he didn't know what to think. He, a vampire? It didn't sound right. However, immortality, superhuman strength, and having to eat or drink nothing apart from blood didn't sound so vile. On the other hand, he knew there must have been something wrong with being a vampire. If there was nothing to hate, why would William do it? And given his dislike and hostility, there must have been a lot to hate.
Nonetheless, for now, he couldn't tell for himself. He would be certain after his transformation, and yet he didn't want to undergo one. There was no way to come back to humanity after it, there would be only the constant lust for blood and turning his heart into stone.
The snowstorm seemed to have calmed down. So when Trevor leaned his head against the pole, he heard someone's sobbing. Although he had two options, he couldn't distinguish whose it was. However, the moment he saw Eleonora scanning the room, a confused look on her face, he knew.
Trevor took a deep breath. "What's the matter, William?" He tried to make his voice as mellow as possible.
William didn't answer at first. For a moment, it seemed that the sobbing became quieter, as if muffled. He couldn't bring himself to stop crying, though. "I'm so sorry, Trevor," he wept. "It's all my fault. I should have known better."
The brunet couldn't help sighing at it. "Oh, William," he began. "You couldn't have known. None of us thought that Griffin would still be dangerous even after we disarmed him. We're not fortune tellers. They had it all figured out. You—we just couldn't have known." He tried smiling.
"But," he protested and paused. "It's my job to protect you."
"No. It's not. I'm an adult. I've learned to take responsibility for my mistakes." He paused. "It's part of being an adult if you think about it."
William looked up and regretted that he couldn't wipe the tears off his cheeks. They must have been shiny in the moonlight. "So you're not angry with me?"
"I'm not. To be honest, it's hard to imagine a reality where I'd be angry with you." He smiled and blinked so that the tears that appeared in his eyes would be gone.
William smiled back. They both were gazing into each other's eyes.
Eleonora cleared her throat. "I'm also here, in case you forgot. So I can say that I'm not angry with you either. Neither of you. We all fucked up, or rather they were too predictive. They were a couple of steps ahead of us. And we couldn't have helped it."
"I wish we could have," William commented.
"Yeah, me too," Eleonora agreed.
They all fell silent yet again.
The next morning, the door fell open, the four people emerging from behind it as the sun shone inside. Jackson was conspicuous as only he had a toolbox put under his arm. All the vampires were expressionless. If they wore black and white suits, they would be indistinguishable from killers for rent.
Miranda stopped in front of Trevor and looked down at him. "Big day, huh?"
The brunet didn't answer, nor did he look at her.
"Don't be so quiet. The best part is about to begin," she announced. "You're going to experience what it's like to be one of us. There's nothing to be miserable about."
"There is," William began. "You're going to fuck up his life."
"Oh, I don't agree with you." She shook her head. "I'm going to save his life. From pain, from death, from you. Isn't it true that everybody you've taken care of died?"
A moment later, a sneer appeared on her face. "You know what to do, Jackson."
Jackson squatted down beside Trevor and laid the toolbox on the concrete floor. He prised the latches and pulled the box top open. Inside were three transparent syringes containing blood-like liquid. He then took one of them in his hand, tucking it between his fingers, before raising the syringe to the brunet.
Meanwhile, with his eyes shut, Trevor moved to his left as much as possible, since the vampire was on his right.
"Jackson, no! Don't do it," shouted William. "It ruined your life. Why do you want to ruin his?"
And Jackson froze for a moment, the syringe hovering in the air. He peered at William, pursing his lips.
"Do it for me," he added before Ashe shoved a gag in his mouth, preventing him from telling any more pleas.
Then she gagged Eleonora's mouth too.
"Jackson, you know what to do," Miranda repeated. "We can't wait any more."
So he sought a vein on Trevor's arm and stuck the needle in the spot where he'd found one. Trevor shrieked, his head jerking to the back, his jaw falling open, and all the veins on his neck becoming pronounced. He couldn't suppress his fear, apprehension, and stress any more. He had to let them out, because he felt like he'd explode if he didn't. His scream was so loud that everyone winced at the volume of it, the noise of pain it was.
For a moment, he imagined himself falling onto white clouds, soft and delicate. In this dream, his hands were no longer clenched into fists but spread wide so that he would feel the clouds between his fingers. His body was unwind, as if he'd endured his life—his uncertain childhood, the hardships of adulthood, the weeks after the kidnapping of constant stress—in order to be in this moment, to be safe.
But it wasn't what he felt. The dream disappeared soon after he stopped screaming as his vocal cords wouldn't obey him any more. And he felt nothing, in fact, nothing strange at least. His head wasn't spinning, nor was he weak. He could almost say nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet it shouldn't. He thought he'd be in pain, the transformation process would make him faint. But, to his awe, it didn't.
And after a while, nothing had changed. The vampires had become impatient. They marched around the warehouse or out of it to discuss what only William could hear. Even so, there still was the gag in his mouth, so he couldn't talk even if he wanted to.
Trevor didn't sweat, didn't become hot as he thought he'd, basing on the shows he'd watched in the past when no vampire had threatened his life yet, and when he hadn't known about the very existence of vampires or werewolves. His arm didn't swell or even redden either, like he hadn't been stuck with a needle in the first place. He'd like to believe or lie to himself that he wasn't, but the vampires' nervous behaviour was too obvious not to be true.
Finally, Miranda asked, "What's wrong with him?"
Houston glanced at the brunet. "I'm not sure."
"Who's supposed to know if not you then?" she snapped. "Something's wrong. He doesn't transform." She walked over to Trevor and stared down at him. "Hmm, his heartbeat hasn't slowed down."
Then Miranda did something that no one had foreseen. She knelt down, took out a dagger from her boot, and made a quick cut on his arm, from which blood began to dribble. Eleonora and William moaned in reaction, while Trevor didn't have the strength to do anything besides wincing. She ran her fingertip over the wound before tasting the blood.
"He's not a vampire," she said while standing up. She turned to Houston and crossed her arms. "Something must've gone wrong. Can you check what?"
"I should be able to," he answered, rushing towards them both. He wore a white coat, like a scientist or the modern Victor Frankenstein would, the latter more fitting to his role.
So he began to examine Trevor. He made sure that the brunet wasn't a vampire; nothing matched the definition or sense of one. Although he couldn't find out why Trevor had remained a human. It meant that something—they couldn't admit that it might have as well been everything—must have failed. And they had to find out what.
"I think we have to go to the lab," said Houston, standing up from squatting.
"You have a lab?" Trevor frowned, his voice weak and throat dry.
He didn't answer his question. Instead he said, "Shut up," and then to Miranda, "I don't think we can retry today."
When he added, "I don't think we can risk killing him, do we?" he didn't even try to whisper so that Trevor wouldn't hear.
Nor did Miranda. "No. It isn't so easy to kidnap people any more."
And this was how the four of them left once more. Fortunately, they'd taken out the gags from Eleonora's and William's mouths before leaving.
So William could ask, "Are you alright, Trevor?"
Trevor looked at him, exhaustion in his eyes. "I think I am. Apparently they think the same."
William sighed in relief. "That's great. I'm sorry I didn't do anything to protect you then."
"How could you anyway?" He chuckled, exhaling through his nostrils.
But William was silent; he'd turned his face away from the brunet's stare.
"I don't think it was anything more than a delay, though," Trevor said after a while. "They'll try again tomorrow anyway." And it was the first time while in the warehouse, that shiny tears began to run down his cheeks, dripping on the rope.
"Oh, Trevor, don't cry," William said, his eyes becoming teary as well.
"I-I can't," he stammered. "I don't wanna be a vampire. I know now that I don't. What if I become one? What if they succeed? Some day they have to."
"They won't, Trevor. I promise." His voice was calm and soothing, but Trevor couldn't know it.
"You can't promise me that," Trevor yelped in resentment, though weeping. "You can't promise me anything."
"I can promise you this one. I mean it."
He looked up, seeking a lie in William's expression. He didn't find one, and yet he couldn't believe him. William wasn't all-knowing. He'd been a human at one time, and although he was now closer to a divine creature than before, he simply couldn't predict every event yet to happen. As he'd said himself, they weren't fortune tellers.
But despite the unknown, Trevor wanted to believe him. This time he wished to be safe and serene like a sea without a wave in the view. He could see himself in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body, happy. So he asked, "You do?"
"Yes. And I'm never letting you go. Not like this. Not as a vampire."