Interview with the LVCs 02

Interview with the Lesbian Vampire Cougars

Interview 2: Devana the Lovelorn

I know what the others say about me, I know how people see me, and it's not entirely true, I'm not a complete sociopathic bitch like Farah. I do have the capacity for compassion and love, not just for those in my own family.

You're probably wondering how incredibly contradictory that sounds, that I probably have some issues with cognitive dissonance and that's the only way you can make sense of how I can hold such views sincerely and live the life I live. Well maybe you're right, I have studied medicine and psychiatry yes, but I admit that a self-diagnosis is hardly ever reliable. You want to know what I mean by that? Simple, it means if you deserve to be in this family or treated as anything other than food you have to prove yourself worthy of me.

How does that work exactly? It's not hard, I can't speak for the others but who I allow to enter our family or rather who is allowed to come near our family must be decided on one condition: that you must have a good heart. Yes that applies to everyone, yes including Farah; I see you're confused, understandable I'll try to explain.

I'm a princess you see, I know I'm not on the same level as Farah and Vanessa but I was in my tribe. I seduced and courted many princes across Europe in my mortal days: vapid, cruel and elitist. I was no better, I was a Gypsy yes but because of my beauty I was welcomed into the finest courts of Europe, even in Spain where my kind was reviled princes and princesses marvelled at me.

I was surrounded by the opulence of unlimited wealth and treasure, I had soup with gold shavings in it, it didn't taste very nice mind you it was basically just edible tin foil. I was surrounded by vapid empty headed people, people who thought gold was all that mattered and who's souls had no substance, that's why our family values art, artists, food and outcasts; we know that true value of people can come from within and that in turn is expressed in their crafts from which their passions emerge, yes we consume it as well as the rich but we appreciate it, unlike the vapid wealthy who gluttonously scarf it down without a thought for who or how it was made, thinking only of how their glory was exemplified by being seen consuming it.

I was no better back then; I thought only of skin deep beauty, I saw bullies and shallow creatures who knew nothing of depth or spirituality or beauty or anything of significance beyond money, how to get it, how to get it out of people, and other such cruel horrible things. I am ashamed to say I was one such person, but at least I had the excuse of providing for a tribe that would've died otherwise, they have no such excuses.

I remember one such time in my twenties I courted a particular pitiful excuse for a man; he was the second in line to inherit the lands of his father. He was pitiful: overweight, nearsighted, unattractive, in today's parlance you would call him a nerd. I treated with utter disdain as you would expect of someone of my station, but in retrospect I regret that, he was kind and thoughtful, funny actually, he lacked cruelty and was kind and spoke his mind. I treated him like shit and fawned after the wealthy and athletic and vapid, I regret that, I think I could've loved a like that, certainly he would've been devoted to me.

There is a particular story I wish to tell you about, I am cruel predatory woman; I don't mean like Farah who is like a spider, constantly playing games to manipulate and trap her prey. No I am like a panther, I track down prey who are worthy of me, I track those who can actually fight, defend themselves, hurt me and most importantly who deserve it. Mind you I'm still the kind of person who would count someone like Farah as my sister, so no the kind of people who deserve it are on a level far darker and worse than what most people would be used to, and thankfully quite rare, so my hunts are quite few and far between; thankfully I can rely on my family to provide a stable source of food.

One such prey I hunted in the 1980s here in Los Angeles, he was sacrificing young children to a blood demon, something about obtaining immortality through virgin sacrifices. Honestly its always the way with these people, I'll let you in a little secret if you want to be part of a vampire family or the beloved of a demon all you need to do is be a decent, interesting person. No one wants to be around someone who is boring, less so around someone who is a piece of shit; I'm immortal and the last thing I want is to share this planet with such people, at the very least I'm willing to wait patiently until they die, I would really rather not entertain the possibility that they may be immortal. I can guarantee you that the vast majority of people both immortal and mortal, both in this world and every other share this opinion.

I killed him, bloodily, he was much stronger and faster than a normal human, not a match for me of course but you can tell that all those sacrifices offered actually did pay off, he wasn't cheated. If he had a few more then he could've had me, sadly for him he didn't.

I interrupted him when he was preying on a little boy, he was very small, little more than maybe 7 at the time, nothing really special about him, but he was cute. He was entranced by me, I expect nothing less and any other time I would've found that adorable, but I was too busy holding my intestines from a huge gaping wound and having a witness to me murdering someone wasn't something I cared for. I screamed at him to get away from me, he scampered away like a little rabbit off to find his mother, I wasn't too worried about him mind you, it was broad daylight and my prey was sloppy enough that he was planning on snatching the boy up after school, it's hard to believe it took that long for anyone to track him down, but that's kind of world we live in.

I don't why but I decided to track down that boy, not that I was worried he was a target, rather I just took an interest in him. I don't know why, something about his face made me think he was gentle, that he had a kind heart; something very rare and precious in this world and something I very much wished were in mine.

It wasn't that hard to keep tabs on him, I had more than enough money to keep private investigators on retainer, learning the boy's address, school, family and routine was easy enough. I saw he came from a broken hope with a dead father and inept, pitiful excuse for a mother, I saw where this was going and it didn't have a happy ending. As a side project, since I had no lovers myself at the time, I chose to inject myself into the boy's life little by little; first a little bit of stalking, taking a seat at cafes he and his mother frequented, parking myself at stores they went to. It felt a little pathetic to be reduced to a creepy stalker, but it was important to me that I got a sense that of the boy's life. I saw potential in him, potential to be kind, to be an artist or a lover, something this world needs more of, I saw how he would be crushed under the weight of his mother's gross inadequacies.

I realized right then and there that for that child's sake I would need to intervene. Getting rid of that wretched woman wasn't too difficult, hiring an arsonist wasn't that difficult, arranging for the boy's bus to be stuck in traffic wasn't difficult, having the woman locked inside and listening to her scream as she burned to death wasn't difficult. The only truly difficult thing was watching the tears stream down his tender face.

One constant exists in this world and that is the rich have the power to do anything, with or without the supernatural having enough money effectively makes you god; I used my influence and Regina's name to pull every string I could, the boy wasn't sent to a government run foster care system, oh my no that's the last thing I wanted. I had him adopted through someone who owed us a favour, the ghouls of a close friend of our family; they took the boy in and raised him right, more or less. In exchange for letting him stay they asked to syphon some of the boy's blood out as he slept, not enough to harm him but it would make him groggy, turns out there's quite a market out there for the blood of pre-pubescent virgin children for all sorts of folks who want it for all sorts of purposes; honestly I get it, I see the appeal, if this story disturbs you it should, this is the kind of world people like me inhabit, there's a reason why I and mine are often referred to as monsters.

I would check up on the boy regularly, he became a pet project of mine, something to look after; I took on the guise of a personal tutor, I instructed the ghouls to play along with some contrived fantasy that every orphan longs after: parents who loved him, a good education, and things of that nature. If you wondered why he didn't question why over the years I never aged, well let's just say there's a very good reason why no one in this family of mine requires make up.

I grew to love the boy more everyday, made sure he was raised right and not spoiled, raised him to have proper morals, to have a sense of loyalty and honour and treat others with respect and dignity. The ghouls were his caretakers but I was his real parent, and soon I would be his beloved.

And yes you are right in your suspicions, you can guess where the story is going, this is exactly what Veronica had in mind for Emily. About now you're probably wondering where this boy is, what happened to him? Well believe it or not Veronica had something to do with this.

When the boy came of age, old enough to complete high school and enter university our affair finally began in earnest, all those years of love and invested paid off and I had the perfect lover of my own making, I prepared for the night I would make him a ghoul, soon to be followed by siring him and giving him Regina's blood. We spent three days and three nights together, just the two of us down in the dungeon fulfilling every fantasy he had ever had about me since he was a boy; it was some of the happiest times of my life, and Veronica knew that and being the vindictive little slut that she was couldn't stand for that and so she set about to ruin everything.

She told my beloved the truth, she told him that I was responsible for the death of his mother, that I had controlled his life since then, she even told him about stealing his blood every night. Of course he resisted at first, of course he didn't believe her, he wouldn't believe anyone let alone his beloved could do something so extraordinarily awful, so she enlightened him. Oh no she didn't brainwash him or show him the past or future, it was a small little spell, nothing fantastical as that, just something to shut down his cognitive dissonance, to clear away the cobwebs and prevent him from blocking out, denying or being wilfully ignorant of anything and everything, he had no choice but to actually face the truth and know it was true, to re-examine every memory from the tiniest detail and realize the true horror of his situation.

Suffice to say our relationship never recovered, Veronica left with him with a smug grin on her face, when I returned with some sherry to my dearest she delightfully declared he was a real keeper. When I entered the room he was filled with rage, he struck me and lashed out at me, I had no choice but to tie him down against his will and find out what was wrong. His eyes were filled with tears, he called me a monster and a demon, he wanted nothing more than to kill me or die himself; it's funny that I've had so many people tell me these things for centuries up to this point but none of it ever hurt before now.

I killed him, right then and there, I bit into his throat and drained every last drop, it seemed only right to do it that way and at least recoup what little I could from so much time, money and effort wasted. I told myself that to dehumanize him and distance myself from the whole thing as much as possible, but that's not possible, I raised that boy, nurtured him from seed into a fine rose but before I could harvest and reap my rewards I was denied by that little bitch, and all because I bit off her toes. I don't think I ever loved anyone that much before; it was probably the closest I ever came to being a mother, I wanted so badly to have him, but I was denied this.

Now at this point you're probably wondering why, if I had the opportunity right in front of me, right here on this table, why didn't I take revenge, why didn't I kill or harm Emily to hurt Veronica the way she hurt me? Simple really, I care about the family; I put the family before myself, unlike some people. And it seems divine justice really does exist because Veronica got what was coming to her and I didn't need to do a damn thing.

As for Emily herself, I won't deny the current changes in the family's power dynamics are rather enjoyable, the return of Valencia, the humiliation of Veronica and Emily becoming the family's, I'm actually trying to think of a proper term for her: bottom bitch, submissive, dog, punching bag, none of them really express the kind contempt the family has for her or what an utterly terrible situation she's in.

Do I feel pity for her? No, she knew what she was doing, she knew what we offered her, she knew the consequences, she's already getting far better than she deserves, well no actually she's getting far worse, but I have no problem with that.

Veronica now thoroughly knows her place, her standing in this family is unlikely to recover, and her love will soon die, odds are she'll actually kill her out of rage and frustration, or maybe Emily will snap and kill herself, or they'll try to kill each other, assuming any of us can actually indeed die. Personally I'll find the whole thing rather entertaining, quite a fitting end to two utterly reprehensible people; but then again eternity is a long time, and as much as I loath to admit it they are my family, can they be forgiven? Can things go back to the way they were? Can I recapture the kind of love I had for little Emily at the start when things were still pure and unsullied by her pitiful stupidity?

No, I doubt that will ever happen, highly improbable if at all. No Emily has made her bed and now she must lie in it, with me, and all the rest, and we are very cruel bed partners.

And Cliteater? Is that what Veronica calls her? How rude and vulgar, I don't know I'd ever expect anything else from that ill-educated little swamp rat. No I'm not telling you her real name! She will choose her name when she arrives and choose it for herself, just as Regina did, and when she does will welcome her into our house and family. She's been told about Emily, she finds the child fascinating, she has told us such things about what she like to do with that wayward child, we so look forward to it.

(TO BE CONTINUED)