Chapter Text
September
Paris
Alina liked taking the long way to university.
Before her classes, she normally spent time meandering the cobbled streets, getting lost in little alleyways, walking by the riverside and enjoying the city that she called home. Sometimes she stopped for a pain au chocolat or a cafe, maybe even a newspaper– however, today was not that day as Alina was in a hurry.
She had spent the weekend in Burgundy with her Aunt Ana and the other nuns at the small convent where Alina had been raised and had only arrived back this morning. Alina hadn’t even had time to stop by her flat before heading to her first class of the week from Gare de Lyon since her train had run late.
The overcast September morning seemed to beckon autumn into the city and the drizzly rain darkened and slickened the pavement. Alina, who was running late for her first class of the week, was mildly annoyed by the slow human pace she had to maintain in order not to draw attention to herself. If only she could really run, like she could in the countryside, fast and free– but alas, to blend in to the crowd of Parisians and tourists she only walked slightly faster than the average human.
Her black umbrella was up to protect her from the rain, but it also served as a nice camouflage. It was easy to duck her head and tilt her umbrella down to obscure her face. It mitigated the amount of shocked faces who would be dazzled by her.
Alina was crossing Pont d’Austerlitz when she smelled it.
On the wet, cool and humid breeze, mixed in with the other smells of humans, pollution, butter, urine and cigarette smoke, she smelled a scent that cut through the others like a knife.
The headiness of amber, bergamot, oud, scotch, and something else, something older, stopped her in her tracks. She looked around to find the scent.
She found the man immediately, the man with the intoxicating and complex smell, and he was already staring at her from forty meters away.
Her inhuman heart started to race.
The man standing on the other end of the bridge, across the street under a large black umbrella, was the most stunning man she had ever beheld.
With dark hair and eyes, a purely male square jawline, and a fair complexion like her own, Alina knew in her bones that this man was like her… only less human.
A Vampire.
Fear curled down her spine.
Alina had never met a true vampire before. The only knowledge she knew of them was courtesy of her late mother who had left Alina a letter before she died, explaining the relationship she had with an otherworldly man who was fast, strong and impossibly handsome. The union that had resulted in Alina’s conception and rapid birth.
And when Alina started drinking blood as a child, she put the pieces together of what her father must be.
She had never come across another vampire before, although in the past, she had yearned to. She was desperate to learn about her vampire heritage and she hoped to one day find her father.
Yet, beholding a true vampire in the flesh made her feel uneasy. Fearful.
This mysterious man, gorgeous and noble in his elegance, was dangerous. It was instinctual, this trickle of fear she felt, like her body could sense that he was a threat by his scent alone.
Alina herself was a predator, and yet her instincts told her that this man was the true predator. The ultimate predator.
Alina’s analysis of him took only a split second.
Cars, taxis and bicycles crossed the bridge and pedestrians walked by them both. Between them, Alina only got brief flashes of the vampire.
And yet, one moment he was across the street, far away, and the next, he was standing in front of her, barely a meter away.
If Alina had been wholly human she was sure she would’ve jumped in fright.
Instead her heart galloped in her chest.
Up close, the man was tall, much taller than her petite stature, and imposing. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties and was dressed impeccably in a dark suit. His dark brown hair, almost black, was thick and shiny, and he possessed just the faintest beard.
But it was his eyes that alarmed her. Beneath a strong brow, his eyes were a deep, dark amber– burning bright– and they were focused on her with an intensity that scared her.
His concentrated scent washed over her like a gentle wave and it was strangely heady. She felt her cheeks heat under his attention.
Inside his suit jacket, a phone started ringing.
He ignored it.
Before Alina could utter any words, the man said something to her in another language, one she didn’t recognize but that sounded old, possibly even archaic, and Slavic.
His voice was low and seductive like crushed velvet. His eyes, roving over her face, were almost frantic.
Alina shook her head– not understanding him, or what was happening. She clutched the curved wooden handle of the umbrella harder and hoped that she wouldn’t crush it under her tense grasp.
“I– I’m sorry I don’t understand,” she said.
He switched to perfect, native sounding French immediately.
“Who are you?”
Alina blinked.
“Or better yet,” he continued deeply, not quite aggressively, but in an intense tone that made her uneasy, “what are you?”
“I…” Alina stuttered.
Suddenly, in this moment she’d always hoped for, a meeting with another vampire, she was frozen in shock.
She’d imagined variations of this moment before. Saying, Hello I’m Alina Séjour. My mother was a human and my father a vampire. But I don’t know much about vampires or your world. Can you answer some questions for me? There’s so much I want to know.
His phone started to ring again.
Instead, Alina panicked.
“I… I’m sorry but I’m going to be late. Excuse me, monsieur.”
With her heart in her throat, Alina brushed past the man, breaking their eye contact and leaving space between them as she did so.
Surely, the vampire wouldn’t make a scene here. On a crowded bridge with so many human witnesses around.
He didn’t follow her, but Alina felt heat on her back as the man watched her retreat.
As she finally made her way off the bridge, she veered right to cut through the Jardin des Plantes and picked up her pace, even though it was a bit too fast. She let out a surprisingly human ragged breath.
Alina was relieved not to find the vampire waiting outside of the building when her classes in the historic Latin Quarter finally finished early in the evening. She had hardly been able to focus on Rabelais and his prose, instead thinking of the brooding man of her dreams and nightmares.
He had been so beautiful, she thought almost wistfully. And he smelled so wonderful and complex– so much nicer and stronger than any human man. But he seemed so dangerous. Death seemed to cling to him.
Lost in her thoughts, Alina walked to the nearest metro station and took Metro line 4 to Abbesses, the closest station to her flat.
This time of the evening was always so busy, with commuters and students heading home after a long day at work, and Alina detested being in the little metal tube with dozens of sweaty people. The concentrated scents were horrendous on the metro, however she didn’t want to risk walking an hour home. Something told her that if she did, she may see the mysterious vampire again.
But Paris was a huge city, and losing herself in it would be easy.
As she got off the metro, her tall, black heeled boots clicking pleasantly on the concrete stairs, she was pleased to make her way above ground to fresh air.
She lived in a quiet little corner of Montmartre. She loved how charming this arrondissement was, with boulangeries, fromageries, newspaper stands, bookshops and adorable little wine bars. Awnings made of brightly striped patterns, bicycles and planters filled with pretty flowers, windmills, decorated little storefronts and cobblestone-lined streets. Of all the arrondissements, Montmartre, to Alina, felt the most quintessentially French. Like a village nestled into a larger city.
She rounded the corner of her narrow side street, happy to be back home to her attic flat with its incredible view of Sacre-Coeur, when she stopped short.
The vampire stood outside of her building, leaning against the wall with pure ease.
Alina was shocked.
He’d somehow known how to find her.
She could run, but he had already spotted her. Alina had no choice but to approach the strange man again.
“You,” she said, crossing her arms as she neared him.
The man straightened gracefully and it annoyed Alina how handsome he was.
“I’m afraid we got started on the wrong foot,” he said, opening his palms to her in a clear gesture of non-aggression. “I apologize for my manners this morning. My name is Aleksander Morozov.”
Alina only raised an eyebrow at him.
“And waiting outside my flat is good manners?” she asked.
Aleksander smiled. It was devastating.
“I suppose not. Although, it was quite easy to trace your scent to this building. You should really be more careful. Any one of my kind could track you here.”
Alina frowned and fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “I don’t appreciate you coming here like–like some stalker.”
He seemed amused by her words, but said “again, I apologize, mademoiselle. But after this morning, I was eager to make your acquaintance.”
“Why?” Alina asked, brow furrowed.
At this, Aleksander ran his eyes over her form blatantly and Alina knew her fair cheeks were turning pink at his heated gaze.
“Because…,” he murmured softly, too softly for ordinary human ears to pick up, “you are extraordinary… and a mystery. I have never come across anyone like you before in my very long existence.”
Alina’s breath caught.
“Someone like me?” she questioned, softly as the breeze caused her silver locks to flutter.
“Yes, someone like you,” he said, eyes dark and intense as they stared at her. “Like me, but also clearly… different… human.”
“Really?” she breathed out in shock, all thoughts of being aloof forgotten in her desperation for knowledge.
“Really, malyshka. Now, tell me your name.”
Alina contemplated not telling him, but it seemed futile. Her surname was posted on the building, afterall.
“I’m Alina Séjour,” she said, finally.
Aleksander smiled.
“Enchante, Alina Séjour. Now, where can we talk?”
Ten minutes later, after Alina had freshened up and dropped her bag off in her flat, she met Aleksander downstairs. He was waiting patiently on a bench across the street, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
It was mildly annoying.
“There’s a wine bar just down the street,” she said, in greeting. “We can talk there.”
Aleksander nodded and they walked in tense but rather compatible silence for four and a half minutes before reaching the little bar with its black and white striped awning and outdoor bistro tables.
It was busy, it always was this time of the evening, with young people in trendy clothing sitting outside for a post-work or school aperitif with their partners and friends. Alina fit in easily enough with her jeans and black sweater, but Aleksander looked a bit too formal in his suit. Like a wealthy finance man who had just finished work in La Défense. Although, as her Aunt Ana always said, it’s better to be overdressed than underdressed.
They settled at a table outside facing the sidewalk and when the waiter brought them a menu, the young man was visibly taken aback by the pair of them. He stuttered at them in greeting and kept glancing between them as if unsure who to stare at. Alina smiled encouragingly at him, a bit nervous about the spectacle they were making. Already a few people from nearby tables were looking over at them. Her smile seemed to ease his trepidation somewhat but he seemed eager to leave their company.
Alina pursued the menu in the midst of all the chatter around them and Aleksander remained silent. He was watching her, she knew, but she didn’t look up and give him the satisfaction of her attention.
She was nervous but didn’t want it to show.
When the waiter came back a few minutes later and Alina ordered a glass of Burgundy vintage, Aleksander asked for the same.
Once the young man was gone, Alina had no choice but to look to Aleksander.
He was staring at her rather intensely.
“So,” she began, drumming her fingernails on the table. Her long, almond shaped nails were painted an opaque blush color that looked almost natural. “Do you live in Paris?”
He shook his head.
“No. I own a flat here but I rarely visit.”
Alina nodded slowly.
“I suppose that makes sense why our paths haven’t crossed before.”
Aleksander hummed.
The waiter returned with two glasses of Savigny-Lès-Beaune pinot noir and set them down shakily before them.
Alina smiled, “Merci beaucoup.” The waiter blushed and scurried away.
Alina reached for the wine, swirling it around thrice before sniffing it. It smelled wonderful. Like jammy blackberries on a balmy summer evening.
She took a small sip, rolling the flavor across her tongue before swallowing. It was lovely. Not as lovely as the wine her aunt made of course, but lovely nonetheless.
She looked at Aleksander and he was watching her with his undivided interest. His eyes were dark.
“You drink wine,” he stated.
“Yes?” she said, slowly. “Do you not?” she asked after a beat of his silence.
He shook his head.
“I only drink blood.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback by his bluntness. Luckily his declaration was murmured so that no one around them could hear.
“What else can you drink or eat?” he asked her, leaning forward in interest.
Alina blinked.
“I can digest anything, but most human food tastes extremely bland to me. I like foods with a lot of flavor. Like red meat, dark chocolate, coffee and wine. I like truffles and smelly cheese. Caviar. Dumplings. Anything spicy.”
“Do you drink blood?” he asked her boldly.
“I– of course I drink blood!” she said, affronted. “I go to the butcher’s every week.”
“Ah,” he said in amusement. “You drink animal blood. But not from the source.”
“I could never drink human’s blood,” she shot back. “And I live in the city, of course I can’t get it directly from the source. There aren’t exactly a lot of wild animals roaming around unless you count the pigeons.”
He chuckled and it infuriated her.
“What kind of blood do you drink?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Ah, now that is an interesting question, Alina,” he said, leaning back. “Quite simply, I drink anything I want,” he said, shrugging. “Although, recently I have been drinking solely animal’s blood.”
“Is that normal?” she asked. “Do all vampires drink animal blood?”
He smiled, but it was the kind of smile that reminded Alina of the children’s stories about big bad wolves eating little girls.
“No, Alina,” he said, dragging out the last a in her name. “Most of my kind drink human blood. It tastes… exquisite. Exceptional. It is far superior to animal blood. And it is our nature.”
It wasn’t wholly surprising. Alina had predicted that most vampires would drink human blood but it made her stomach feel strange. She was half-vampire, half-human. Blood called to her, but never a human’s. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach drinking human blood. The greatest bloodlust she’d experienced was in the woods of Burgundy smelling a herd of deer after not feeding for weeks.
“So why do you drink animal blood then?” she asked, after a moment, curious. “If it's so much inferior to humans?”
Aleksander leaned back in his chair again, utterly relaxed. Alina noticed for the first time that he wore a cameo ring on his middle finger on his right hand. The band was matte-gold and it boasted a large black stone, obsidian perhaps, with a raised golden family crest upon it. It was beautiful, Alina thought. And it looked old, like a vintage antique that she would see at her favorite flea market. He drummed his fingers on the table.
“When you get to be my age, life starts to get a bit dull. I like the challenge.”
Alina’s heart started to beat faster.
“That is… absolutely fascinating,” Aleksander said, head quirked to the side, listening. “Your heart beats faster than a normal human. Almost like a hummingbird.”
Alina nodded.
“And your blush… I can see the blood beneath your skin. It’s extraordinary. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Alina swallowed and looked away. She watched a young couple stroll down the pavement, hand in hand, in their own world, laughing and smiling to each other. They unintentionally stopped in front of their table to share a long kiss before moving along.
A pang of loneliness struck at the easy intimacy the couple shared.
“So… it’s unusual, then? To be like me?” she asked, finally looking at Aleksander again.
“It’s unheard of, Alina. You are one of a kind,” he said, voice low. Amber eyes gazing at her with… something.
“Why is it so unheard of?”
Aleksander chuckled but leaned forward.
“It’s unheard of, kukolka, because no female vampire can bore a child. And for a male vampire to impregnate a human woman without killing her first? It would take an incredible amount of restraint, of control.”
His dark eyes tracked her, waiting for a response.
“Oh,” Alina said. It was something she had wondered before, if she was singular, destined to be alone– and it seemed like it. Her worst fear had come to fruition.
“Alina,” Aleksander said, almost urgently.
It was fascinating, she thought, how this man went from relaxed to intense in a split second. Alina had a feeling that the intensity he displayed was far more honest than the relaxed poses and body language.
“What do you know of your conception? Of your father?”
Alina bit her lip and she looked away. Aleksander was handsome, and he’d been forthcoming thus far, but she didn’t fully trust him yet. Still, he might have valuable information that could help her.
She glanced over at a nearby table when they erupted in laughter. She glanced back to Aleksander.
“My mother’s pregnancy was very rapid– it took only weeks instead of months. She died giving birth to me. She told my human aunt a bit about my father. Apparently, he was Russian. And they met here in Paris and spent a weekend together.”
Aleksander reared back, genuinely surprised.
“Russian? Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure!” Alina snapped. “My name is Alina, after all.”
Horror began to curl in her stomach.
“You haven’t…?” she trailed off, uncertainly. Aleksander could be a Russian name. And she was pretty sure he’d been saying little bits in Russian to her. “You’re not…?”
His eyes widened before narrowing into a glare.
“Of course not, Alina. I don’t make a habit of fucking human women. Only sociopathic vampires do. They revel in the pleasure and violence of it all. Sex and blood at the same time.”
Alina’s stomach rolled and she looked away, thinking of her mother. A human woman who had gotten caught up with a vampire, never consenting to her awful fate.
Aleksander sighed, as if noticing her unease.
“I apologize, Alina. I shouldn’t have said that. There are many Russian vampires– the most of any nationality, I believe. Your father could be a great many people. However, to impregnate a human…” he trailed off. “It’s unprecedented.”
“It’s alright,” she murmured, finally. “I just don’t like to think of my mother being seduced by a vampire who left her to her death.”
When her wine glass was empty, Aleksander swapped them so she had a full glass.
“When were you born?” he asked as Alina took a sip of his wine.
“I’m twenty-three.”
His eyes widened in genuine surprise.
“You’re very young.”
She wondered how old he was.
“I was fully grown after seven years. I matured quickly. Far quicker than a human child. I’ve been like this,” she said gesturing to herself, “for fourteen years.”
She looked like her age. Like a woman in her early-twenties. At the pinnacle of her youth and beauty. And her body showed no signs of changing, of growing older which made Alina think she was most likely going to live forever.
“Incredible,” he murmured. “You are… incredible, Alina.”
She shook her head.
“I haven’t done anything to warrant your awe, Aleksander.”
He just smiled in that secretive way of his.
They sat in compatible silence for a couple of minutes. Alina had so many questions for him, but didn’t know where to start. She opened her purse and dug out a cigarette before lighting it. She took a drag, not for the hit of nicotine, it did nothing to her, but for something to do. She tapped the ashes into the ceramic ashtray.
“How long were you outside my flat for?” she asked, suddenly.
Aleksander smiled.
“All day.”
“Really?” Alina asked, eyes wide. “Didn’t you get bored of waiting for me?”
Aleksander chuckled in response.
“No, a mere few hours go by in a blink for me. Sometimes days feel like seconds. I was prepared to wait as long as it took for you to come back to your flat.”
Alina understood to a certain extent. Sometimes days would blur together and she'd later realize that weeks had gone by.
“What are you thinking?” he asked abruptly, leaning forward in interest.
“I… what?” she asked.
What kind of a question was that?
“You look contemplative. I’m curious.”
Alina hesitated but answered.
“I’m thinking… that I have a lot of questions to ask you, Aleksander. About the vampire world. How long are you in Paris for?”
“I will be here for… the foreseeable future,” he said with a loaded look.
Alina nodded and bit her lip.
“Can I see you again?” she asked, tentatively.
Fuck, that sounds like I’m asking him on a date, she thought. She continued in a rush.
“I feel a bit overwhelmed right now but… there's so much I want to know. So many things I want to ask you.”
Aleksander smiled softly.
“Of course, Alina. I’ll tell you anything and everything you wish to know.”
Alina breathed out a sigh of relief, not realizing how afraid she was that he would just disappear. She’d been so afraid of talking to him earlier, and now she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “I usually go on a walk on Saturday morning. Maybe we could talk then if you’re available?”
He nodded genially.
“Of course, Alina. Where would you like to meet?”
“I like the Jardin des Tuileries,” she said blushing. “I know it’s touristy, but I love it this time of year. The trees are just starting to change.”
A fond, indulgent smile made its way to Aleksander’s face.
“Of course, Alina. That sounds perfect.”
“I should go,” she said, dropping the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray and standing up. Aleksander stood up with her.
“Until next time, Alina. I look forward to Saturday.”
She nodded.
“Me too. Bonne nuit, Aleksander.”
As Alina turned to walk back down the street to her flat, she knew that if she turned around, Aleksander would be watching her. Even now, she could feel the heat of his gaze on her back.
The week seemed to drag by.
Alina hadn’t wanted to seem overeager to see Aleksander again, so she suggested Saturday, but that meant that she spent the whole week thinking of questions to ask him.
Alina worked for a few hours on her freelance gigs, translating boring technical copy from French to English, Italian, German and Spanish, even some to Mandarin and Cantonese, which was the source of her comfortable income. She picked up her pig’s blood from the butcher. Went to the library. Wrote her essay about actresses in sixteenth-century Italy. Did her laundry and painted her toenails. She cleaned her bedroom, then her bathroom and finally her living room. Bought some cheese. Ate it. Reorganized her walk-in closet. Completed the rest of her assignments for the next two weeks.
And that was just Tuesday.
When Saturday morning finally rolled around, Alina practically sprung from her bed. She hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. Instead, spending hours trying to sleep to little avail. She’d finally given up, deciding to read until dawn broke.
The weather was turning. One look out of her balcony to see grey skies meant that she was dressing for cooler weather, not that it made a difference to her. She always felt pleasantly warm no matter the season or weather.
Alina dressed in sheer black tights and a black mini skirt that brushed the tops of her thighs. She pulled on a black and white striped sweater and zipped up her tall, black heeled boots. Styled her hair into a half-ponytail, black velvet ribbon tied in a bow.
She looked in the oblong, ornate gold-wrought mirror that leaned against the corner of her bedroom wall.
Objectively, she knew she was very striking.
Silvery-blonde hair that fell to her waist in a silky waterfall. Clear, bright skin with a natural blush. A petite, straight nose. High cheekbones. A full pink mouth. Her espresso-brown eyes tilted slightly upwards, indicating a hint of non-european descent framed by impossibly long lashes.
And yet, Alina couldn’t help but wonder how she compared to fully vampire females. For the first time in her life, Alina felt self-conscious. She was more beautiful than any human woman, but how did she fit in on the hierarchy?
She sighed before banishing those thoughts from her mind. What did it matter what Aleksander thought of her, anyways?
She grabbed her vintage Coach shoulder bag that she had found online for a steal and locked her door before flitting down four flights of stairs to the lobby of her little building. She opened the large wooden door to the street and made her way to the metro.
It was early, barely eight in the morning, so few people were out yet and Alina basked in the emptiness of the streets.
Her train carriage was empty and she got off at Concorde before leisurely entering the garden.
Alina wasn’t sure what it was, possibly the charming chartreuse metal chairs, pretty fountains, marble statues, or changing leaves, or maybe it was just the energy, but Alina loved how vibrant the Jardin des Tuileries was. Situated in the heart of the city, next to the Louvre and along the Seine, it just seemed to burst with life. Young people, old people, toddlers and babies, Parisians and tourists, everyone seemed to enjoy the green space and Alina was no exception.
She inhaled deeply, trying to catch a hint of Aleksander.
They hadn’t agreed on a time, but Alina was an early riser and she had just assumed Aleksander was too for whatever reason.
It was there, on the breeze, a hint of his scent. Her eyelids fluttered.
She followed it.
Under a green-gold tree, looking really too handsome to be fair, Aleksander sat reading Le Parisien. Alina tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach as she approached him. She’d never felt so nervous in all her life.
“Good morning, Alina,” he greeted, looking up at her approach. He threw the newspaper to the side as if it held no more value to him.
He was dressed less formally than he had been on Monday. Instead of wearing a suit, he was in dark trousers and a navy blue sweater. He looked like a handsome professor– and Alina wished to be in his class.
“Hello, Aleksander. How was the rest of your week?”
She mentally cringed. What a mundane question to ask a very old vampire!
A faint hint of a smile played on his lips.
“It went very well, thank you. And yours?”
“Productive,” she said as she sat down on the green chair placed beside his and crossed her legs, skirt riding up high on her thighs.
“What is it that you study, may I ask?”
Alina raised an eyebrow at him.
“How do you know that I’m a student?”
“Well, naturally I followed you to your university on Monday,” he said with a smile.
“Why am I not surprised?” she said while shooting him a dark look. “I’m studying Early Modern History with a focus on the French Renaissance.”
“Ah, now that is a fascinating subject indeed. I remember those days fondly,” he said wistfully while leaning back in his chair. The slight breeze rustled his dark locks. “Tell me, are they still making students read Burkhardt?”
Alina practically choked.
“You– you… I’m sorry, did you just say that you remember the Renaissance?”
Aleksander’s eyes sparkled at her obvious shock.
“Yes, malyshka. I was alive then.”
“How old are you?” she couldn’t help but ask.
He tisked.
“Now, now, Alina. You should know that that’s not a very polite question to ask a vampire you’ve just met.”
“You asked me how old I was on Monday, Aleksander, so, please, spare me the lecture,” she said, flipping pale locks over her shoulder.
He laughed and it was a beautiful sound. Rich like dark chocolate and cabernet. His dark eyes studied her.
“All in good time, Alina. All in good time.”
“How many vampires are there?” Alina asked, as they walked along the wide sidewalk of Quai Francois Mitterand, passing the opulent architecture of the Louvre as they went.
Aleksander hummed in thought.
“It’s nearly impossible to say. Hundreds, possibly a thousand, I’d guess.”
“That few?”
That seemed so strange to Alina. There were billions of humans, surely there would be more vampires than a thousand. But of course, humans didn’t know of their existence so the population must be relatively small.
“Most vampires are nomadic. Solitary. That means that they go from place to place, never settling, finding new cities and territories to hunt in. It’s possible that there are more nomads than I think. It's the covens that are easier to keep track of.”
“Covens?” she asked.
“Yes. Some vampires choose to travel together, or even settle together, in groups. On one hand, it’s safer to live with other vampires, more vampires mean more protection, but on the other hand, the larger a coven gets, the more attention they receive from other vampires. They can be targeted and even destroyed.”
Alina looked to Aleksander, not quite understanding.
“Why would covens target other covens? Can’t vampires live peacefully?”
Aleksander chuckled.
“Yes, many can. But vampires target each other for the same reasons that humans do. It’s usually about territory, resources, power, jealousy or fear.”
It made sense, she supposed. Conflict was a part of each species, it was the nature of the animal kingdom. The top predators would be no different.
Alina spotted a small coffee stand on the pavement just ahead of them.
“Do you mind?” she asked Aleksander, gesturing to the stall.
“Not at all,” he replied easily.
Alina ordered a double espresso from the old Frenchman with a white mustache who sat behind the little counter. He fussed over Alina, calling her beautiful, a winter rose in autumn and Alina smiled at his sweet, yet overabundant praise.
When he passed her the small paper cup of coffee and Alina reached for her purse, Aleksander was already pressing a note into the man’s hand. The old man’s eyes widened first in surprise, then fear, his crow’s feet crinkling, and started to protest.
But Aleksander wouldn’t hear of it and backed away.
“Merci beaucoup,” Alina said, smiling to the man before they resumed their stroll.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said looking at the handsome man beside her.
“I am well aware,” was all he said, looking at her.
Alina blushed.
“Well, thank you.”
She took a sip of the espresso.
“I never drank coffee as a human,” he admitted, eyeing her paper cup. “Only tea.”
“You used to be human?” Alina asked, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t born like this?” she gestured to him.
Aleksander chuckled.
“No, Alina. Vampires are made, not born. Although, I suppose you are the exception.”
Alina bit her lip. Again, she wondered how old he was.
“What was your human life like?”
Aleksander paused.
“I don’t remember much. After I was turned, my human memories were… fuzzy.”
“And… how does someone become a vampire?” she whispered, intrigued.
“It’s simple really,” Aleksander started, “it only takes a bite for the change to occur.”
“Really?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Mhh,” he confirmed. “Although, once you’ve taken a bite, it's incredibly difficult not to kill the human. It takes remarkable self-control. That is, perhaps, why there aren’t so many vampires.”
“Have you ever changed anyone?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Aleksander laughed again.
“You’re so inquisitive. Yes, Alina. I created a coven of my own.”
Shock rippled through Alina.
“Really?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Is that so surprising, Alinochka?”
She blushed at the nickname.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way Aleksander, but you seem like the solitary type.”
At that, he laughed.
“You’re not wrong, Alina. I am an introvert. I value my alone time. But a long, long time ago I got lonely and I created a companion. A brother, of sorts. The coven grew from there.”
Something uncomfortable settled in Alina’s chest.
So he wasn’t really alone, not in the same way she was.
“Why aren’t you with them now, then?” she asked, softly.
He sighed.
“That, malyshka, is complicated. I leave them every few decades or so, for a time. Being around all of them can be… difficult.”
Alina nodded, as if she understood.
“Alone time isn’t too bad,” she agreed. “I’ve gotten rather good at it, actually. Being alone. Although it must be nice to have companions that understand you. That are like you,” she said.
When she looked at Aleksander he was staring at her.
She blushed.
“Thank you for answering all my questions, Aleksander,” she continued. “For the first time in my life, I’m finally finding out about the vampire world. I always felt like a piece of me was missing, by not knowing. I appreciate it more than you can know.”
He stood as still as a statue.
Finally, he said,
“You’re very welcome Alina.”
Alina smiled softly and they continued to walk.
It was strange, she realized. Walking along the Paris streets with a man. Her whole life she’d only really had meaningful conversation and companionship with women. Sure, she’d had male professors and classmates but she never really tried to get to know them or talk to them. Plenty of men showed interest in her, sure, but relationships with humans were difficult and complicated, with exception to her aunt.
Sometimes Alina got jealous of the other Parisian girls who walked arm in arm with their boyfriends, looking happy and in their own world. Alina often wished she had a companion like in the romance books she read. Someone she could be herself with– someone who would love her unconditionally and her the same.
As they walked along the pavement, Alina idly wondered what they looked like to the outside world. Both her and Aleksander were unnaturally beautiful, they caused many people to stare, and she wondered if people thought they were lovers.
The thought caused her to blush– although she wasn’t mad about it.
Somehow they wandered into Alina’s favorite museum.
Nestled into the third arrondissement, Le Musée Carnavalet stood out like a Light Academia dream. Alina loved the tea-stained colored stones of the intricate seventeenth century châteaus and the little green courtyards planted within. Specializing in the history of the city, from prehistoric to the belle epoque in the nineteenth century, the museum was a bit quieter and more relaxed than the Louvre, d’Orsay and l’Orangerie.
She loved it all but her absolute favorite floor was the Medieval and Renaissance one. She loved the explosion of colors in the period. The decadence of gold and the intricate details. The artistry and craftsmanship was just divine. As they walked through the white plaster archway, her heels clicking on the dark wood, Alina couldn’t help but ask another question.
“So where were you during the Renaissance?”
Aleksander strolled through the gallery casually, as if he’d been there a hundred times. Who knew, maybe he had.
“Italy, of course. It was the place to be,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “Although, I traveled all throughout Europe during those centuries.”
“You were in Italy? During the Renaissance? Oh, please tell me what it was like!” she begged as they passed a spectacular golden trunk from the thirteenth-century.
Aleksander laughed.
“So eager for knowledge, moya sladkaya. I’ll tell you anything that you want to know.”
Alina shook her head in disbelief.
“I have so many questions. Where in Italy? Which city-state?”
“The Duchy of Milan first, then Florence and Venice. Oh, how Venice has fallen since. If you could’ve seen it back then Alina,” he said with a regretful sigh. “It felt like the center of Europe. So much commerce, so many foreigners. Carnavale, now that was incredible. So many feasts and costumes and performances. Witnessing commedia dell’arte in Piazza San Marco from the Adreini family, now that was theatre.”
Alina was entranced.
“Courtesans sat high up in ornate windows wearing yellow veils. Drunkards falling into the canals. Church bells ringing at all hours of the day. Politics, religion, murder and scandal. Hunting was so easy back then.”
“It sounds incredible,” Alina murmured. “What did it smell like back then? I’ve always been so curious.”
Aleksander laughed.
“You are so curious, Alina,” he said with amusement in his dark eyes. “Venice smelled atrocious. Like body odor, sex, rotten fish, urine and incense to cover the smell of plague.”
Alina wrinkled her nose.
He nodded. “Exactly. I only stayed there for a few years before moving on. Despite the odors, it was a fascinating era to witness. Although, I don’t miss wearing the tights.”
Alina giggled.
Now, that was a sight she couldn’t imagine. Aleksander in tights.
They were walking past a portrait of Catherine de Médicis in a gilded golden frame when Aleksander growled. Alina’s eyes instantly flew to him only to see him glaring at a group of three young men who stood a few feet behind them. They were staring at Alina but at Aleksander’s dark stare, murderous really, all three fled from the room, tripping over their own feet, in fear.
“Aleksander,” she said, affronted. She looked around to make sure that no one else had noticed that bizarre exchange. “What are you doing? Those boys weren’t doing anything.”
He growled again, but it wasn’t directed towards her. His eyes were on the doorway the boys had fled through.
“You don’t know the vile things they were–” he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. The gesture was strangely human. “I don’t like how they were looking at you.”
Alina snorted.
“News flash, Aleks. Human men are horny. They’ll look at anything that can move. I appreciate you defending my honor but I can take care of myself.”
It was true. Living in Paris, some men thought they could take advantage of Alina, especially at night when she was alone. Little did they know that she was a born hunter. She’d broken at least five hands during her time in the city. It made her so angry because she knew that other women weren’t like her– not as strong and unbreakable. She did her best to intervene whenever she saw problematic behavior from men.
Aleksander studied her.
“Of that I’m confident, Alina. And yet, it doesn’t mean that their blatant disrespect of you should be tolerated.”
Alina’s eyes narrowed.
“And just how do you know they were disrespecting me? They didn’t say anything.”
“Oh Alina,” Aleksander said, moving into her personal space, eyes black. “They didn’t need to. I can tell.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but he was already moving along to the next portrait.
They walked around the city until dark.
After the museum, they had walked through the Bastille before crossing the Seine and wandering through the Latin Quarter. They sat by the Pantheon and talked before going to the Jardin du Luxembourg. They sat by the fountains for a while watching the excited kids play with the sailboats before meandering towards Saint-Germain, pausing so that Alina could get a pastry from Tapisserie.
Watched as the vintage street lamps lit up with the setting sun.
Alina was surprised, but also… wasn’t.
Talking to Aleksander was easy, almost too easy. He answered her questions, asking ones of his own. Seeming genuinely curious to learn more about her. Neither one of them seemed tired of each other’s company.
He told her about some of his travels, about his favorite places. Russia, he had answered easily when she’d asked. Even after all these years, it’s still home.
In return, she told him of her childhood. Of growing up in a Catholic convent with only women devoted to God. Of how sheltered she was until she moved to Paris seven years ago. About her tolerance of human food, because blood was not readily available to her and because her Aunt insisted on a human diet to not arouse suspicion about her nature.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked her, boldly.
“Yes,” she answered, slightly taken aback by his question. “I wouldn’t say that I’m extremely religious despite growing up in a convent,” she explained. “I don’t go to Mass anymore but I do believe in God.”
“Why?” he pushed. “Surely, you see how we don’t fit into the laws of nature. See how flawed religious orders can be.”
Alina glanced up at Aleksander. His eyes were black and she already knew that he disagreed with her. Knew that he didn’t believe in anything.
The golden crucifix that hung under her sweater felt heavy.
“Because when my mother was pregnant with me, when she was growing at an unnatural speed, she went to go find her twin sister, my Aunt Ana, at the convent she’d recently dedicated herself to. The nuns cared for my mother while she was pregnant but were fearful of what I would be. Whispered that my mother had laid with the Devil and would bore a demon. The nuns, including my Aunt Ana, planned to destroy me. Were going to throw me in the river and drown me after my birth.”
She heard Aleksander’s inhale, an unusually human sound coming from him.
“I killed my mother. Tore myself out of her womb with my teeth. There was blood everywhere. There was screaming. I remember it, even as a newborn baby. My mother had only been able to hold me for a moment before she died. Her last word was my name, Alina. It was carnage…. I remember I was immediately wrapped in a baby blanket. My Aunt took me outside. She was crying, and I was silent– just watching. She’d just lost her only sister. Her only family because my grandparents had died some years prior. She carried me almost a mile to the nearest stream. Was going to throw me in.”
Alina sighed.
“What happened?” Aleksander asked, darkly. Lowly. Hung on every word she uttered.
“She looked at me,” Alina whispered, lost in her memories. “Before she was about to throw me in, she just looked at me. Said that I couldn’t be a demon because I had the face of an angel. Because I looked like my mother. She brought me back to the convent. The others beheld me. Instead of hate and fear, they looked at me and decided to love me. Raise me. If that’s not divine intervention, Aleksander then I don’t know what is.”
The two were silent for a moment. Finally, Aleksander spoke.
“I’m glad your Aunt changed her mind.”
Alina giggled and suddenly the tension was broken.
“Me too. She obviously had no idea that throwing me in a river wouldn’t have killed me but I’m so lucky to have been raised by her.”
Alina looked up at Aleksander and found that he was staring at her intensely.
She didn’t want to say goodbye and that scared her. She should have wanted to leave, after spending all day with him, but she didn’t.
In fact, Alina felt sad to say goodnight.
As they stood underneath the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, Alina thought that Aleksander looked like an avenging angel.
“I’ve had a wonderful time today,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Aleksander.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Alina,” he said, deeply. Seriously.
She blushed.
Uncertainty, wrapped around them like a cocoon. Was this a one time thing? Would they meet again? Alina wasn’t sure what she would do if Aleksander wanted nothing more to do with her.
Around them, humans continued on obliviously.
A group of young people erupted into laughter, responding to something their friend had said, cigarette smoke hazy against their silhouettes.
Another group of friends huddled together, drinking cheap white wine from a shared bottle.
A pair of young men skateboarded by in baggy jeans and hoodies, loud French rap following them as they went.
A pair of lovers kissed under the city’s most iconic landmark, murmuring to each other in Spanish.
“When can I see you again?” Aleksander said, lowly. He eyed her unabashedly.
Alina blinked up at him and smiled.
“I’m free tomorrow.”
A smile ghosted on his lips.
He stepped close to her– closer than he had ever been before. His scent washed over her like a soothing balm. Alina watched with rapt attention as he lifted a pale hand to her cheek. She froze as he brushed a cool knuckle down her left cheekbone.
“So warm,” he murmured to himself, entranced. He dropped his hand.
“Until tomorrow, then.”
And with that, he was gone.