Thanks, as so often, are due to Allegrita for her swift and wonderful beta’ing!
A New Perspective
These Americanos, they say I’m a criminal. They say I’m a murderer. Maybe so, but I call it practical. but I do what I need to do. Besides, let them prove it.
I am not a superstitious man. I have always believed in things that I can see, that I can touch. Nothing else. Vampires? Frights and fancies for foolish women and children.
But I have seen things tonight. Things have touched me, and now everything is changed. Everything is different.
I was in the office at the bar, the one in Hollenbeck. No matter what a man’s business may be, there’s always paperwork.
A man crashed in, took the door off the hinges. I didn’t recognize him: he had no business in my office. There was blood on his face from a dozen little wounds, and I could hear screaming from the bar, even over the beat of the music. I pulled two guns on him—I told you I was a practical man, and it always pays to be ready for the unexpected. But this was more—unexpected—than I’d bargained for.
What was he doing there? My gut told me it had something to do with that foolish A.D.A., Lindsey, the one my boys iced up in the park. But it didn’t matter. I told him to get out, and he just laughed. I remember him lunging at me, shoving my desk back like it weighed nothing and pinning me against the wall. And his face changed. His eyes turned color, turned silver. He opened his mouth and there were teeth. Fangs. Like an animal. Impossible. Next thing I knew, he was on me, and I felt like my throat was being ripped out.
Everything went black.
I woke up on the floor with smoke burning my nose and mouth. I coughed, putting my hand up to my throat, remembering that diablo tearing at my neck. Ay dios mio, I should have had bleeding wounds, but the skin was smooth and whole.
But there was no time to think about it then. I had to get out. I scrambled to my feet, crouching to stay out of the smoke, and looked out through the ruined door to the barroom. All I could see were flames, and bodies scattered on the floor.
Lucky for me, I always have a back door.
As soon as I got out of the building, I heard sirens coming. I wasn’t in the wrong, escaping from my own burning club, but it’s always better to avoid explanations at a time like that. I ran into the woods behind the bar, figuring I could hide until the cops and firemen were gone. I felt—different. I could see and hear everything, better than I should have in the firelight and the flashing lights from the fire trucks. I felt strong. Stronger than I had in years.
But—thirsty. Like I was walking across a desert in the sun. And I wasn’t thirsty for water. I was waiting, watching, keeping very still, when a rabbit made the mistake of wandering by. I grabbed it, moving faster than I would have thought possible, and bit down hard on its neck. I didn’t know what I was doing, what made me do that, but the blood was sweeter than wine to me. I knew then what I needed. I was thirsty for more, for better.
I circled around, keeping away from the light, and finally found a man, a reporter, standing in the shadows. He never heard me coming up behind him. One arm around his neck, one hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, and I dragged him away into the trees.
That blood was even better, and there was enough of it, before his heart stopped pumping, to stop my thirst, for a while.
After that, I thought I’d better get away. I still had my phone on me, and I called one of my men to pick me up at a spot well away from the bar.
I needed to think, to make a plan. I didn’t know what this man had done to me, exactly, or even who he was, but I was going to find him. Find him and make him tell me everything he knew.
And then? Then I was going to kill him.
I will, too. It may take time, it may take planning and even luck. But I can wait. I can turn this to my advantage. No one who attacks me, no one who tries to interrupt my business, is going to walk away. He left me for dead, but he made a mistake. He didn’t finish the job.
I will.
My name is Chemma Tejada, and I am a practical man.
AN: So, recently I had a chance to meet Emilio Rivera, who played Tejada. He remembered Moonlight well, and he told me something surprising. He said that there were plans to bring his character back in Season 2! I got to thinking about this, and decided the only way that could have happened was if Tejada had somehow accidentally been turned. This is my idea about how that turning might have happened, and what Tejada’s frame of mind would be.
What was it that Mick said to Lee Jay? "The last thing the world needs is an eternal you"? Multiply that by about a million. 
I'm glad he remembers Moonlight fondly, and absolutely thrilled that you've gleaned a new piece of Moonlight behind the scenes lore, after all this time. 
How kind of you to give us a gift. It's a really lovely tradition. 
Very interesting! I also thought of Mick's comment to LeeJay... 
and you certainly don't have to wait another year to give us a sequel to this, when Tejada does indeed track Mick down. I'm just sayin.' 
Probably not in the near future, but you just never know. 