Interview with a vampire, new age style
Angela McClaren sat across the table from an attractive young man with a distant look in his eye. She took her time examining him visually, rather than launching into the interview straight away. He really was quite handsome, if one discounted the strange ear piercings that stretched his lobes wide open, or the metal protruding through his eyebrows and nose. His jaw was finely sculpted, his forehead tall, his eyebrows the perfect thickness and shape. His lips were full and almost feminine, practically begging to be kissed. Then there was his body, a strong, athletic body that bespoke of a man who generally looked after himself well. Angela resisted the urge to sigh out loud. It was such a shame that he was insane. She looked him in the eye again. The young man regarded her with total indifference, his blue eyes icy, his attitude aloof. Of course, Angela reminded herself, he would look at her in that way - to him she was just a weak human, after all.
She reviewed the file one more time. The young man's name was Trent D'Arcy. He was twenty years old. In the early hours of that morning, he had viciously attacked a woman in her own home, biting her neck hard enough to draw blood. Fortunately, the victim managed to escape, and the police were called. Upon arriving, they found a man preparing to leap off the apartment's second storey window, growling like a beast. They were too late to stop him, but miraculously, he was not seriously hurt in the fall. He was arrested and brought to the station, where he gave a short statement pertaining to his peculiar behaviour. Angela skimmed over it, confirming a few details for herself. Satisfied, at last, that she had committed the essential facts to memory, she closed the yellow folder and smoothed it briefly with her hand, before commencing.
"So, Trent," she said, "you are a vampire."
She made it a statement, rather than a question. It was how the game was played, and Angela was very good at playing the game, by now. Trent D'Arcy was by no means the first mentally ill person she had ever interviewed, though he was definitely one of the most unusual ones.
D'Arcy nodded at her, by way of a reply. A single, curt nod, no more.
"And you are five hundred and fifty years old, is that correct?" She continued, as though double-checking the information she had.
Another nod, otherwise, his face remained expressionless.
"I understand you asked the police to restrain you, so you wouldn't kill any more humans. Well, I'm pleased to inform you that the woman you attacked has lived. She's recovering in hospital and she'll be able to identify you later on."
Angela let this information sink in. So far, there was no noticeable reaction. Whatever the young man was thinking or feeling in that moment, he was not showing it. She went on.
"So I guess that's pretty straightforward. You will be charged with intentionally causing serious injury, for which the maximum penalty is ten years' imprisonment. You have the right to remain silent and anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to legal representation and if you don't obtain it, a legal representative will be assigned to you. Do you understand this?"
There was no answer, not even a nod, this time.
"Do you have anything to say?" she prompted, but this too was met with silence. "Ok, then, we can conclude the interview..." She began to gather up the paperwork.
"You have beautiful eyes." His voice was deep and melodious, causing her to look up, in surprise. The young man's dark blue eyes regarded her calmly, yet carefully, his gaze locked firmly with her own. There was something different about that gaze, compared to before, a depth of intelligence she had not noticed, until now - so that, for a short, but significant moment, Angela felt trapped, drawn in by the sheer intensity of the stare. With an effort, she tore her gaze away, blushing as she did so.
"Er, thank you," she stammered, shyly. Inwardly, she swore at herself. It was not like her to lose control, not even for a moment. She was a professional, for goodness' sake - she had to stay in charge. She took a deep breath, to steady her, before addressing the man again.
"Does your speaking to me mean you've decided to answer some questions, after all?" she queried, without looking up from the table.
"That depends," he replied, vaguely.
"On what?" she glanced at him furtively, through her lashes.
"On the kind of questions you ask," he said, before adding, in the same melodious tone as before, "And whether you can look me in the eyes."
Angela raised her eyes to his with exaggerated slowness, feigning indifference.
"No problem," she lied. She launched the first question straight away - an official doing her job, nothing less and nothing more. "Can you tell me how many other humans you have attacked before today? I mean, you say you need to
feed
to survive, and you are
five hundred and fifty years old
..."
The young man shrugged carelessly.
"I don't know," he said, without emotion. "I've lost count of how many people I've killed."
"I see." Angela looked at her paperwork again, pretending to be shocked by the answer. In truth, though, she was fairly certain D'Arcy had never killed anyone - he had zero convictions and no prior criminal record.
"I don't suppose you could tell us where the bodies are?" She looked up at him hopefully.
"No," he replied flatly.
"No," Angela repeated, nodding, "of course not. I guess you don't remember most of them, do you?"
The young man looked sad, almost regretful.
"I'm sorry," he said, with great sincerity. "I don't like having to kill to survive."
"Mmm.." Angela agreed. "It can't be easy... But tell me something, Trent, as a matter of curiosity - how do you plan to survive in prison?"
