The shower was, well, an experience. Lestat had advised you which buttons to press and which to leave. But you'd forgotten almost immediately. Why didn't he label them, if it was so important-

The blood came pouring from above, obstructing your vision, overwhelming your senses once more. You didn't mean to, but you weren't the master of your own instincts in this moment: You opened your mouth, catching as much blood as you could.

The thought of what you were doing hit you then, this was someone's blood, someone might've died for this. You swallowed what was left in your mouth, then forced yourself to switch to the water button.

What was wrong with you? You had a hard time discerning all the different emotions that washed through you. Disgust at your actions, fear of what you'd become, why did the blood taste so good, where did it come from, were you a monster and why? You started frantically scrubbing the blood off your body under the water, clearing your mouth of the remnants of it. The urge to throw up growing and shrinking again with each wave of emotion.

You showered for a while, hardly feeling any cleaner after. Lestat had left some clean clothes out for you. A hoodie, which going off of it's size, must've been one of his and a pair of leggings you assumed he had taken from one of TC's drawers. The hoodie swallowed you, but allowed for sweater paws to hide your new set of claws in. The leggings on the other hand were a tight fit, but thanks to the sweater at least your now most pronounced behind was well covered.

You tugged the sweater down just a little further, watching yourself in the mirror tiles that covered the side of the shower. Good enough, you thought, looking up to fix your still wet hair, when two piercing blue eyes stared back at you. But they weren't his. They were your own. Deep pools of endless blue, almost uncanny in a way. The eyes of a predator.

You took a step back. That wasn't you, was it? And if it was, what were you, had you become? There was only one, who could answer your questions and he was waiting downstairs. You tied your wet hair up and headed for the stairs.

"So, you made another one? Going all in on this whole Great Conversion thing now?" A familiar voice, a man.

"First off all, I didn't just, 'make another one', I saved her from one of those 'make more' guys, who couldn't do it. And she was my stage tech, I think?" Lestat. You followed the sound of his voice down the stairs finding him on the other end of the bus in a sitting nook with an older gentleman you now recognised as Daniel Molloy. He'd been working on a documentary on Lestat backstage, so you'd seen him around every now and then. As you approached their nook, their conversation came to a halt.

"The Newbie, didn't think I'd loose that title quite so soon," Daniel commented. Newbie? Was he also-

Lestat had noticed the obvious question on your face, answering, "Yes, Mr. Molloy here is a vampire as well."

A vampire? That's what you were then. That did make a lot of sense in hindsight, "So, 'The Vampire Lestat' wasn't just a quirky band name, but honest marketing?" You took a seat next to the blonde singer.

Lestat, who'd been fiddling with his phone, looked up with a smirk, "Why make up a big, bad lie, if no one believes you anyways?" Good point.

"About that vampire thing, you said we were going to get me more... blood? How do we- I mean, do I have to? Can't I eat normal food anymore?" A grin spread across Daniel's face, watching in anticipation as Lestat sighed,

"Well, you can have human food, but it won't be any good nor keep you alive." Did that mean your favorite applepie from that little bakery near the venue, that you walked by each morning, was never going to be the same again?

"Most likely not, no. And you'll find walking by there in the morning rather difficult as well, I'm afraid." You stared at Lestat, who had returned to typing away on his phone.

"I didn't say that out loud, how did you-"

The mind gift, you'll figure it out, Newbie.

That- that was Daniel Molloy speaking in your head.

"Stop that, both of you! Or teach me." Lestat still hadn't put his phone down, so you took matters into your own hands and plucked it from his typing fingers.

"Give that back." He reached for it, but you jumped from your seat, holding the phone up, "Not until you teach me the mind-reading thing."

He stood from the leather seat, following you, cornering you against one of the built-in closets, "Give me that and I'll teach you."

You held the phone behind your back, slowly backing into the closet, "Teach me and I'll give it to you."

He was so close now, you had to look up to face him, his blue eyes boring into your own. You held his stare defiantly, trying your hardest not to acknowledge how his proximity made your heart beat even faster.

"Don't worry, I can tell, ma chère."

Your cheeks flushed hot red. Fuck off out of my head!

"Make me." He gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, "Or give me my phone."

He held out his hand in front of you, not breaking eye contact and you suddenly felt the incessant urge to move your hand from behind your back. A tugging inside your head, bordering on painful, forcing your every thought towards handing his phone over.

"Should I leave you two to it?" Daniel asked, breaking your focus for long enough to make your hand move of its own accord, returning the phone to Lestat.

"Goddammit," You held your head.

"You put up a good fight, feisty one." Lestat mused as he returned to his spot in the sitting nook, already typing again. You sat back down next to him,

"Now tell me, how did you do that? How can I do that?"

"Actually, yeah, how did you do that? She's your fledgling, shouldn't you be unable to hear her thoughts?" Daniel joined your questioning, making Lestat finally send his message and put down the phone.

"It's a little harder to get into hers, but I'm technically not her only maker, I didn't drain her. So I guess that's why it works?" Lestat answered Daniel before shifting his focus back to you, "I can teach you, but we should try it on non-vampires first, Daniel here knows how to block you out. And I already know all of his secrets, so it wouldn't be any fun."

"Do you now?" Daniel said, but despite his act of nonchalance, you could hear a subtle quiver in his voice at the question. Lestat's smirk revealed nothing other than that he had succeeded in his little manipulation.

"We should head out. I'd offer you a groupie, but you never know what substances are swimming around in their little veins. And blood poisoning is no fun, let me tell you. Well, sometimes can be fun, but we'll get to that some other time." The blonde put on a hoodie to cover his designer top and a pair of sunglasses before leading the way out of the bus. Daniel stayed behind, as you followed your maker out.

"How do we go about this now? Do I just jump one? And how do I read their minds?" Lestat had led you to a nearby park, that was mostly empty this late at night. There was one young man running laps around the park, a couple making out on a bench behind some bushes and a middle-aged woman, talking on the phone in spanish while walking along the sandy path that led through the park.

"So impatient. We'll start with him," he pointed towards the runner, "Listen to his heartbeat, focus on it." You watched the running man, a little chubby, very out of breath. It wasn't hard to hear his heart pounding out of his chest.

"I hear it, what now?" Your eyes trailed the man running along the little fence that lined the park.

Lestat placed his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle, encouraging squeeze,

"Listen more closely, his thoughts are nothing but another organ speaking to you."

You focused on the noise surrounding his heartbeat, heard his lungs filling and emptying in quick succession, his stomach gurgling and then, there it was,

12... only three more... man I want to go home...

"I did it," You turned around to Lestat, "I heard him!"

The blonde put a finger to his lips, "Quiet, ma chère. You don't want to scare off your food. Tell me in here." He tapped his forehead.

You shifted your focus to him, blue meeting blue. It was surprisingly easy to deliver your thoughts to him, almost like there was a direct line connecting your minds,

He's tired, wants to go home. But he has three more laps to go.

"Good. Read the couple next, what do they want?" Lestat turned you to move your focus once more, now facing the rustling bushes. It took you a little longer to discern the thoughts of the pair, their minds as tangled as their limbs.

She is worried about being caught and about him being a serial killer and he-

"He?" Lestat whispered, his breath grazing the shell of your ear. Goosebumps formed on your arms.

He is fantasising about her 'tight cunt'. Oh gods, I can see it now!

Instinctively you covered your eyes and Lestat had a hard time containing his laughter, "Very good! You'll see images eventually, should've told you that."

"Can I eat him first?" You grumbled.

"So eager to kill all of a sudden? Over an innocent sexual fantasy?" Lestat tsked, "Read her first."

He pointed towards the lady on the phone and you tried, you really did, but,

I'm afraid I don't speak spanish well enough. And the images only show some old man. Roberto?

It wasn't a special night. Maybe it should've been, given how it ended. But it was a plain night. Rehearsals in Detroit. You'd been tasked to figure out cable management as the band's guitarrist, Larry, had been claiming the cable for his guitar wasn't long enough. It was the same cable as always, laid out across the stage in the same manner as always, giving him just as much room to move as it always did. You replaced it nonetheless. It wasn't your job to argue with the artists. After plugging everything in, you came back up from behind the speakers, gesturing towards him,

"Is it better now?" As if buffering, it took him a second to figure out, what you'd said, his eyes taking in your body in a way, that made you want to throw up.

You left the stage without another word to return to your other chores when Christine Claire, Lestat's lawyer and judging by her tasks, also manager, held you back by your shoulder, "If Larry's being an ass, you can tell me. I'll talk to him."

"Oh, yeah, should be fine now," he said without moving an inch. You took a deep breath. He could've at least taken a few steps to check if the length was better, but he wasn't even trying to hide, that he'd only called you up here to gawk at you.

He was being disgusting, but you wanted to avoid any drama, "It's alright. I've handled worse," you waved her off. It was true, your last job as a waitress had been way worse, and less handsomely paid. You could handle one guy staring.

You were about to leave the main stage area, when the door to the dressing rooms almost hit you in the face. You tumbled back a few steps, the star of the show, Lestat, prancing past you.

"You're late!" TC, the band's drummer shouted. Lestat climbed the stage unbothered taking a sip from a starbucks cup, he'd brought. The straw slowly turned a deep red and you wondered whether they were doing a Halloween special?

"I had important business to attend to. You wouldn't understand," Lestat said, placing the cup down near his mic stand. The other stage technician quickly started hooking him up to his earpiece, but stopped in the middle of it, looking around. Looking for you. When his eyes finally found you, still next to the door and about to leave, he waved you over. Shit, you'd hoped to be as far away from the band, from Larry, as possible after the cable situation. Your other tasks were mostly waiting for you backstage, so your plan would've worked out, if it hadn't been for Josh, your colleague, ever so desperate to spread his knowledge. Begrudgingly you returned to the stage to join him. He explained some settings to you, so you'd be able to fix the earpiece in case he was absent. And despite listening intently, you felt Larry's intense stare almost like physical touch on you.

"Have you rehearsed that tambourine, Larry?" Lestat's voice suddenly boomed across the stage, startling both you and Larry.

"I know the part," Larry said, finally drawing his attention away from you.

"Know the part? I need you to feel it, understand it!" The blonde took a step towards his guitarrist, "If it is not perfected tonight, I don't want to see you on stage tomorrow."

Larry shrugged, "Yeah, whatever." You could tell that he was playing aloof, but there was a hint of genuine worry underneath his 'dont care'-attitude.

You and Josh quickly finished setting up Lestat's earpiece and left the stage to let the band rehearse. Despite wanting to get away from Larry, you found yourself lingering in the main stage area for just a little longer, listening to their music. You liked their songs, some of them had even made it onto your personal playlist. Getting to hear them live regularly was just another perk of the job, apart from the pay.

Halfway through 'Dancing with myself' you could see a growing frustration on Lestat's features. That wasn't good. He kept kicking at something on the ground. Had you not cleaned the stage properly? He jumped, but when he landed, one of his ankles almost twisted.

"Stop!" He yelled, bringing the music to a halt. He bent down, picking up one of the cables. The cable. The one, that led to Larry's guitar.

"What is this? And why is it everywhere?!" He asked, looking for a culprit. His eyes inevitably landed on Larry, who only raised his hands in defence, "The lady stage tech put it here. She said I needed a longer one."

Of fucking course he'd blame you. Coward.

You grabbed the shorter cable and hurried over to the stage, "I'm sorry, I can replace it again."

Lestat took you in, his piercing blue eyes stopping you dead in your tracks. His gaze was so intense, it felt like he was searching your brain.

"No," he said, taking the cable out of your hands and throwing it at Larry, "He can do it himself."

He held your gaze for a little longer before letting you go. You broke from your stupor, nodded and finally left for the backstage area to return to your other tasks. That was weird, it'd really felt like he'd been in your head of sorts. Or maybe you were just tired. You decided to go with the latter and went ahead to collect the trash bags from the dressing rooms. With a neat bundle of bags in hand, you used your back to push open the back entrance door to take them out to the containers behind the venue. It was a long alley with no lights, the only hint of light being that of the moon, desperately trying to push past thick clouds.

"What a pretty little snack." You almost missed the voice behind you with the trashbags rustling by your side. You turned around, but there wasn't anyone. You really needed sleep, it seemed. You walked farther down the alley, finally reaching the container. It opened with a loud groan, trash falling out at the sides. You forced your bags into the already overflowing container, then brought down the lid quickly to keep them in place. Once firmly closed, something landed on the container with a heavy thud. Too heavy to be a racoon. Too loud to be a tired hallucination. Yellowish eyes stared back at you now. You froze.

"Aren't you going to run?" The face that emerged from the darkness showed prominent white fangs.

There probably were useful guidelines on how to behave in situations like this, scream, don't scream, run, don't run, attack or stay calm, but you couldn't recall a single helpful piece of advice. So, in your panic you opted for, "Uhm, no?"

"How boring, I prefer my food afraid and out of breath. But maybe you're not food?" The yellow-eyed man lept off the container, stopping right in front of you. You could smell his awful cologne mixed with something metallic.

"I don't think I'm food? But we have food inside. I can get you a sandwich from the staff room?", Please don't be a cannibal, please don't be a cannibal, please don't-

"A sandwich? You're cute, I think I'll keep you."

What happened next was a hard to piece together. Somehow he'd wrestled you down and sunk his teeth into your neck. At first there was a searing pain, soon to be replaced by a warm, tingly feeling. But it didn't take long for that to be replaced by the next sensation. Numbness. You felt cold, couldn't so much as move a finger, your heart was desperately pounding in your chest, as if calling for help. Help came. A warm drop of liquid on your tongue like a lifeline, then another. You reached for it, the warmth of it filling you once more. But there wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough. Your mouth, your throat, your stomach burned with hunger. Whatever he'd given you, you needed more to dull the pain. It took you a while before you managed to turn over onto your stomach, the pain forcing you to curl up into a ball of suffering. Once you somehow found yourself face down, you tried crawling after him, but he only looked down at your writhing form, sighing in frustration,

"Why do mine never take?" You heard him ask, exasperated.

"Please-," you managed to croak out, clawing at your own neck. But the man only turned around and walked away, had the audacity to look disappointed.

You sagged back down, writhing in the pain that started to overwhelm your body. Your senses were confused, your vision blurred. But you didn't want to die like this, in some dark alley where no one would ever find you. You tried to focus on the blue metal door to the venue, or at least you'd hoped that's what the blue blob in your vision was, and crawled towards it as far as you could. It wasn't very far. Your body gave out after a few meters, your heart beat slowing down. It became harder and harder to keep your eyes open. The last thing you remember, was the blue blob moving and a voice snarling, "Fucking regionals."

You woke up in the dark. Complete darkness. A wall to your right with some sort of soft lining. Velvet? Your hand cautiously padded around. Above you, another wall, also lined in something soft. Was this- a coffin? Were you dead? Well obviously not, but had you been buried? You patted around some more to your left to see how much space there was, only to be feeling cold skin and muscle. You jolted back to your side of the box. Not only had they done you in, they'd dumped you with some other body. You held back the bile forming in your gut. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. Why would they bury you, when you were clearly alive? Wasn't it like mandatory to have a doctor confirm death before digging the hole?

With a soft groan the body next to you turned over and wrapped an arm around your waist gently pulling you in closer. You held your breath. At least not a dead body, you supposed, but what was going on here? Was he also buried alive by accident? But why?

"Are you awake?" You decided to whisper. No reaction. You asked again, louder this time, "Are you awake?"

Another groan, "I am now." The voice sounded oddly familiar, but you couldn't quite place it yet.

"I think, we might have been buried alive. I think we're inside of a coffin, maybe?" You offered your observations to the stranger. He didn't seem fazed at all.

He let you go, a little laugh escaping him, "We are inside of a coffin, my coffin. But we'll get you your own soon enough."

The laugh and that french accent adorning his words... but it couldn't be-

"Lestat?" You asked. Instead of answering, he pushed open the lid. Light flooded the velvety coffin, temporarily blinding you. You covered your eyes with your arm, sitting up slowly while getting used to the bright overhead lighting. He stood from the coffin holding out a hand to help you out as well. Once your eyes had adjusted, you reached out for his hand only now noticing the blood and the long, sharp nails on your own hands. You didn't take his hand. Stared at your own in shock.

"Oh, yeah, we should rinse that off. But I didn't want to shower you while unconscious." Lestat said, like being covered in blood was a day to day occurrence.

It all came back to you then, the pain, you, clawing at your own neck, the door moving.

"Fucking regionals?" You repeated from memory.

"Yeah, left you on the brink of death, half-turned, those asshats. Couldn't even finish it." He re-offered his hand and this time you took it, letting him help you out of the coffin... into his tourbus? That was also when you noticed, that he was merely wearing pants.

You stared at him, in fact Lestat, in confusion, yet unable to form a question or to figure out what to ask first. So you just stated the only thing you knew for certain in this moment,

"I'm starving."

He didn't hesitate, simply sliced his own arm open with one of his nails. And as much as the sight scared you at first, fear was quickly overtaken by hunger. He held his arm out for you and you couldn't help yourself. Manners were forgotten. You grabbed his arm and drank. What was happening here? But shit, it was good.