Vampiric Rites: Death

The sterile chill of the blood bank’s waiting room clung to Erasmus’s skin as he sat in one of the few cushioned chairs it offered. He liked the smell enough—clean and medicinal, like the scent of one of his club’s freshly wiped bar counters when he made the time to have a drink after hours with Reuben. A small smile drew over his lips at the thought, and he glanced sidelong at Reuben, who sat beside him, legs swaying gently to and fro to occupy himself.

Erasmus shifted slightly in his seat, pulling his coat a little tighter around him, and straightened his cufflinks, his newly polished boots tapping idly against the cool linoleum floor. Privately, he was glad for the fact that, once he was a vampire, his body would hold no warmth. At least, he was pretty sure he was glad for it; as far as he knew, it meant he’d spend a great deal less time shivering from the cold, what with how Reuben domineered their home’s thermostat.

He was nervous though, despite himself. How couldn’t he be? But he remained with his usual poise intact, his silver-streaked hair neatly managed, his clothes immaculate. After all, if he was going to step into the unknown, there was no way in his right mind that he would have left the house without being showered, groomed to the nines, and smartly dressed.

“Are you nervous, Reu?” Erasmus asked his partner, who promptly gave him a quizzical look accompanied by an arched eyebrow.

“Ras,” Reuben began flatly, “You’re about to have someone bite into your neck, then drink blood, and quite literally die, and you’re asking me if I’m nervous?”

Erasmus grinned. “Well, are you?” he probed, nudging him in the side with his elbow. “You’re the one who insisted on standing vigil by my side through the whole process.” He returned Reuben’s eyebrow raise with one of his own and tapped his lover’s nose. “And besides, aren’t you squeamish? One of the bartenders told me he broke a glass last night and cut his finger. He said all it took was one look from you and you had just about thrown up on the carpet.”

Reuben opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, the point moot.

“Exactly,” Erasmus hummed. “So, I’ll ask you again. Are you alright, Ruby? Really, I mean it. I know you’re as eager for this as I am, but if it’ll affect you in any negative way, I can send for Lyall to come and make sure you’re taken home safely and provided for until I’m… er…” He paused, his brows knitting together in thought. “Recovered? Is that the right word? I’d still be dead.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Reuben gave him a harmless shove back in the shoulder. “I’ll have you know, hospitals have plenty of trash cans and smelling salts. I’ll be fine.”

Just then, one of the doors behind the lobby desk swung open, and a perpetually tired Timothy meandered through with what smelled like a freshly brewed mug of coffee held in one hand. His eyes swept briefly over the waiting room, and his gaze settled on Erasmus and Reuben, who had both begun to stand upon his entry.

“Oh—Erasmus, and… Reuben, right?” Timothy greeted with a slight, shy nod. “You’re early, but—but the room’s all set up for you. I can take you back now,” he said, then paused, hesitating, “If you’re ready, I mean? There’s no rush.”

Erasmus exchanged a glance with Reuben, then offered Timothy a warm smile. “Well, the sooner we get started, the sooner I can be back home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to cause you and the staff any more trouble than I already will, of course. I do hope my donation to express my gratitude found the hospital well?”

Timothy straightened at that, nodding his head fervently. “Y-yes sir—I mean, we’re all getting bonuses for it, so they—they took the time to make your room as comfortable as they, uh… could. And the blood bank is thankful for your agreement to donate what we can get of your blood.” He gave a little cough as if to change the subject and stepped out from behind the counter, motioning for them to follow. “We’ll go through everything back here, and once you start to show signs of being affected, I’ll call in some help to move you and get you situated.”

Reuben leaned into Erasmus’s ear as Timothy made to lead them back towards one of the rooms, just out of earshot. “You bribed him to turn you?” he whispered.

“Bribery is a strong word, my dear, I prefer the term business arrangement.”

Erasmus continued to follow after Timothy, one hand settled gently against Reuben’s back as they were guided into one of the hospital’s consultation rooms. It wasn’t much, just a medical chair, a set of sterile equipment off to the side on a rolling cart, and a desk chair, but Erasmus took it upon himself to take a seat.

Timothy leaned against the counter, his pallid face framed by the fluorescent light above. His lanky form meandered about the room as he laid out a few clean cloths and a set of antiseptic wipes.

“Um—I know we talked about this a bit over the phone, and, well, when—when you came in the other day for a consultation,” Timothy began, rolling the cart of equipment closer to Erasmus’s chair. “It’ll be like we talked about. I’ll bite you, then you’ll drink a bit of my blood, and after that, we’ll take care of you until you’re good to go after a, um, post wake-up check-up.”

Erasmus chuckled softly, and nodded to him. “By all means. I trust you know what you’re doing,” he said, rolling up his sleeve. “I’d prefer if the blood is taken from my arm, if it’s all the same to you.” He looked to Reuben, then back to Timothy. “My neck is reserved.”

“That’s—that’s fine—perfectly fine, sir,” Timothy replied, returning his nod. He stepped closer, taking a damp cloth and running it over a section of Erasmus’s forearm. “It might hurt a little,” he added, his tone apologetic, and almost guilty. “But only for a bit—it’s like a little sting, but then it’s almost like a painkiller.”

Erasmus reached out to Reuben, pulling his lover as close as he could manage with the armrest between them. “I’m not worried about any pain. You’re more than welcome to proceed.”

Timothy’s eyes, normally dull and half-lidded, sharpened with an almost predatory focus. He pulled up his chair beside Erasmus, settling Erasmus’s forearm over the cart, and likewise over one of its dry cloths, then opened his mouth. His fangs, Erasmus had to admit, were quite substantial, but he held still.

When Timothy bit down, it was swift and clean. The initial sting was sharp, drawing a quiet hiss from Erasmus as he winced, but the sensation quickly faded into a strange, dizzying sort of warmth. He felt Reuben’s arms wrap around his bicep and absently leaned into him for comfort.

“You’re alright, Ras,” Reuben whispered gently. “Just breathe.”

Timothy pulled back after a few moments, licking his lips with a practiced air before reaching for a spare cloth to clean his mouth. “Now, your turn,” he said, his voice softer than before. He bit into his own wrist, dark blood welling up from inside the puncture wounds, and held it out to Erasmus.

Erasmus hesitated, his gaze flickering to Reuben, who nodded once, silently urging him on. He grasped Timothy’s wrist with both hands, bringing it to his lips. The taste of vampire blood was unlike anything he had imagined—metallic and cold, yet it carried a rush of vitality that surged through him like a storm. He drank deeply, feeling his heartbeat quicken and then falter, causing him to draw back with a startled cough.

Timothy gently pulled his wrist away. “That’s enough. Lie back now.”

Erasmus obeyed, sinking into the chair as a heavy lethargy crept over him. His vision blurred, and his breathing grew shallow. He met Reuben’s eyes, a silent exchange passing between them, and his lover smiled down at him, though Erasmus noted with a hint of amusement that he did, in fact, look like he was about to be sick.

“I’ll be right here,” Reuben promised. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

A faint smile curved Erasmus’s lips as his eyes fluttered shut while he prepared himself for what was to come. “I knew you were too squeamish for this, Reu,” he murmured.

His death would be an easy one; he had made a prior agreement with Timothy that what remained of his blood following what Timothy initially took would be donated for other vampires. Which meant that, after a careful bit of siphoning his blood, Erasmus would fall peacefully unconscious until the blood loss inevitably proved too much for his body to handle.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights as Timothy went to retrieve the needed equipment to begin the process, and once Timothy had him properly settled, and his blood had begun to creep up the transparent tube into the myriad of waiting blood bags, Erasmus’s chest rose and fell for a few more minutes after his initial slip into unconsciousness, then stilled entirely.

The following hours passed in a blur. Timothy and the staff moved Erasmus to a quiet recovery room, dimly lit and warm, and fit with a surprisingly homely looking bed that Erasmus was carefully placed into to rest as the transformation ran its course. Reuben stayed by his side, refusing offers of food or rest. He sat in a stiff-backed chair, his hand resting on Erasmus’s all the while, even as it grew uncomfortably cold.

It wasn’t the cold itself that was uncomfortable; it was a cold he would get used to in time, but knowing that in the moment, Erasmus was entirely lost to him, it set an ache in his heart. But he resolved himself to talk his way through it, whispering softly to him about the new future they would share; the nights they would spend together, and how he would get to pester him into the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t until the next night that Erasmus stirred. The movement was slight—a twitch of his fingers, a faint shift of his head—but it was enough to jolt Reuben upright. He leaned closer, his heart pounding as he whispered, “Erasmus?”

A low, throaty sounding groan escaped Erasmus’s lips, and his eyes opened slowly. He blinked, disoriented, his familiar rich, crimson gaze locking onto Reuben.

“Reu,” he crooned to him, his voice sounding slightly hoarse from disuse, but unmistakably his own.

Reuben exhaled a shaky breath, a smile breaking across his face as he tugged Erasmus into a tight embrace. “And here I thought I was a heavy sleeper.”

Erasmus’s lips curled into a faint smile, and though his body still remained cold, and Reuben could feel no heartbeat or movement of Erasmus’s chest taking in breaths, there was no mistaking the sheer love, devotion and recognition in his expression as he gazed up at Reuben. He clung to him, the strength of his grip belying his sickly appearance, and he nuzzled Reuben’s cheek with his nose.

“Mm… I’ll never get tired of your harmless jabs, Ruby,” he murmured against him. “You feel so hot…”

“Easy,” Reuben teased softly. “Timothy said not to let you get too close at first, just in case you woke up… unruly, to say the least.” He offered Erasmus an apologetic smile and gingerly pried his partner off of him, which earned him a slight pout in return. “Actually, he asked for me to call for him or one of the other staff members in the event that you ended up waking up while one of them wasn’t in the room.”

“But Ruby, there is a bed here,” Erasmus pointed out, his movements a bit stiff as he sat up further in the bed and motioned down at himself and the bedcovers. “Would you really deny me a little bit of cuddling?”

“Rasy,” Reuben warned, but couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice even as he shook his head disapprovingly at him. “You’re terrible. I need to call for someone so that they can get you something to eat—drink,” he corrected, but was promptly pulled down onto the bed beside Erasmus with a squeak of surprise.

Erasmus wrapped his arms fully around him, grinning wickedly. “Not so fast, I haven’t even gotten a good morning kiss yet!”

“Oh no. No, no, bad!” Reuben cried out, breaking out into a fit of helpless giggles as he fought to escape his grasp. “Timothy, he’s awake!”

“Spoilsport!” Erasmus huffed in mock offense. “I only want to try a little nibble… you look delicious…”

"Someone find me a muzzle!"