Fatally in Love
By Bette Bourgeois (rbourgeo@cycor.ca)


First Spec in a Series, by Bette Bourgeois  (1996)

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He followed the duo from the riverfront tavern and down the street,
tracking them first from above, then from the street.  He crossed
rooftops, leaping quietly from building to building, not making a sound,
as they turned down a side street, heading away from the water.  He kept
his distance, not getting too close to the beautiful but wasted youth and
his painted companion, the worst kind of wharfside whore.  

He didnıt want to get too close yet.  He did not want to chance being
overwhelmed by the blood scent of the young man, not yet.  That luscious
scent, he could imagine it already.  If he succumbed to it now . . . ah! 
What sweet anticipation would be lost in precipitating the kill.  He
wanted to watch this one for a little while longer.  He was enjoying
stalking this one too much to end it so soon.  Maybe he could follow just
a little bit more closely without actually catching that tantalizing
aroma.  He wanted a better view of his prize.

He did not know his beautyıs name yet.  He hadnıt been able to pick it up
from his mind, it was so awash with pain and desperate self-loathing. 
Fighting, fighting, this oneıs mind was always fighting with himself.  Or
with someone named Paul, someone whom he dearly loved, and fiercely
hated.  Oh yes, this one would be delicious.  He was a veritable cauldron
of dark emotions.  And dark emotions drew Lestat like the heady bouquet of
a fine wine.

He had been watching the reckless Creole from a vantage point high on a
balcony in an enormous ramshackle riverside establishment.  It was tavern,
it was brothel, it was gambling house.  It was a regular den of iniquity .
. . his favourite hunting ground.  And his prey had been as comfortable
there as if he owned the place; drowning himself in whisky, cheating badly
at cards, flirting casually with a satin-skirted she-devil who hovered
over him, counting his winnings.  Everyone there was surreptitiously
watching the reckless young man with too much money and not enough sense. 
They were all wondering how long it would be before he lost both.  It did
not occur to any of them that what he was really hoping for was to lose
his life.  Only Lestat knew that.  And the  waiting vampire was hoping
that the young man would be able to keep his life long enough to give
Lestat the chance to oblige him.  

Lestat was anxious to oblige him.  The vampire thought, in an instant of
very near hilarity, that he was actually just a little too anxious for
this one.  He was dangerously attracted by the unconscious charm and
reckless abandon of his potential victim.  He wanted him badly.  Wanted
his hot mortal blood pumping through his veins, wanted to feel the slim
shape of that body held tight against him, wanted to press his face into
that lovely black hair and drown himself in the overwhelming mortal scent
of him.  Intoxication!

But as Lestat paused in the shadows of the moonlit street, something
distracted him from the stalking of his quarry; another heartbeat, or a
set of footsteps?  His loversı tryst with the black-haired beauty was
getting more expensive all the time.  A riverfront thug with a knife in
his hand was following the doomed pair, perhaps the whoreıs pimp . . . a
reinforcement of her intentions.  Donıt worry, beautiful one, he thought. 
Your guardian angel is here to keep you from harm.  Lestat laughed
silently to himself.


...........................................................................................................................................................
 

³But, who are you?²  The question was asked in a hoarse whisper.  Ah, he
was so innocent.  He had no idea who, or exactly what it was that was
holding him, firmly, tightly, with seeming safety within itıs strong
arms.  All he was really aware of was that the whore who had accompanied
him from the tavern had stopped her hysterical screaming, the thug who had
accosted them had disappeared, and somehow it was all connected to the
person who was holding him.  Lestat considered saying something soothing
with his mindvoice, but decided it would probably only serve to frighten
his prize.  Strange, Lestat thought, he did not want to frighten this
one.  And, at the moment, despite the circumstances, the young man was
strangely calm.  

³Blue, blue . . . blue, blue eyes . . .,² was all that Lestat could read
running through his precious victimıs mind.  Lestat could sense the young
manıs wonder, his overwhelming absorption with the intensity of Lestatıs
burning preternatural gaze. Lestat worshipped the beauty of the dazed
green eyes and stunned expression looking back at him.  This one was so
much more beautiful when viewed up close.  His lashes were long, his
cheekbones high; the whole a portrait in delicacy and refinement. Lestat
wondered again at the fate that had driven such a fine specimen of
bourgeois gentlemanliness into his world of ruthless outlaws and shadowy
killers.  Despite the fact that he was helpless in the vampireıs grasp, he
displayed no panic, no suspicion, just a strange acceptance that he was,
for now, out of danger; that he had once again been rescued from certain
death by some guardian angel.  Poor fool.

Lestat became aware that they could not stand there gazing raptly into
each otherıs eyes for much longer. He had to make a decision.  Take him,
or leave him.  And, of course, there was no way in hell Lestat could
contemplate leaving him.  The scent of his blood was enveloping Lestat in
a haze of hunger and longing. He wanted that scent to belong to him, to
take that heat inside of him . . . now.  The need was great, and the
desire even greater.  So he took him.

The blood was rich and sweet . . . utterly delicious, as he knew it would
be.  As he had kissed the young manıs neck, seeking out the tender vein,
the young man had moaned.  As the first mouthful of precious blood poured
into his mouth and down his throat, Lestat moaned.  

Images and voices floated in the haze of pulsing pleasure surging through
the vampire.  A sweet-faced young man was crying ³Louis, Louis² in
desperation to Lestatıs victim.  And then his Creole beauty was screaming
the name ³Paul² as he gazed horror-struck at the body of the sweet-faced
young man that lay sprawled at the base of a steep brick staircase, broken
neck laying at an impossible angle.  He saw the sweet young thing lying in
a coffin, the coffin being carried into a church, and Lestatıs beautiful
victim, Louis, kneeling, weeping, cursing and crying, in front of a crypt
in a cemetary, watched over by a tender statue of the Blessed Virgin
standing sentinel over the gravesite.   He felt Louis descending slowly
into an engulfing world of pain and misery, guilt and tortured dreams.  

For a moment the pain radiating from the mind of the still form in his
grasp was blinding.  But, slowly, it faded and ebbed away in the face of
the growing sensuous reaction to Lestatıs vampire kiss; an insidious
physical pleasure flooding through all of Louisı limbs,  with each draught
that Lestat took increasing the ecstasy he felt.

Lestat saw himself, there in Louisı mind, rising from a mist of strange,
confused and intense emotions.  He saw his own face, his hair a golden
halo, his skin a milky glow in the darkness, his eyes seeming to pulse
with a wild blue fire.   He felt Louisı fascination, he felt the flooding
warmth of the blood in himself, and he felt Louis yield to the thudding
intensity of the pleasure of the bite.  

Lestat felt an answering emotion growing in himself in response to that
surrender.  An emotion he had thought lost in the past weeks, as he had
been lost in the wilderness that was New Orleans. And he stopped drinking,
forcing himself away from the fount, gazing in amazement at the exquisite
features of the unconscious Louis.

Such feeling, such a delicious surrendering to Lestatıs hunger was almost
overwhelming in the face of Lestatıs emotional emptiness.  This creature
was casting a dangerous spell over him.  Why did he feel so vulnerable
with this helpless mortal beauty swooning in his arms?  Why did he feel as
if he wanted to drink from this fountain of passionate innocence . . .
forever?  

Did he dare to try it again so soon?  Could he feel real love for this
wounded creature, and not just the overpowering urgency of the blood
lust?  Would this tortured soul cleave to him if he offered him the Dark
Gift?  He needed to think about this, think about this carefully, very
carefully.  But, of course, he had really already decided, hadnıt he?

Lestat left his precious burden slumped in the gutter under the light of a
street lamp on a thoroughfare that would soon see traffic as the night
became the morning.  His lovely Louis must live.  Lestat could already
hear footsteps . . . a laundress on her way to work.  She would find him
in a moment.  Louis would be safe . . . for now.

Lestat returned to the hotel room that housed his coffin, dawn following
at his heels.  Tomorrow night, as soon as the sun set, he would find his
Louis.  If he had to search the whole colony he would find him again
tomorrow night.  He must.  Oh, Lestat, what are you doing now?  It was
madness chasing after mortals.  It was madness that he hadnıt killed the
splendid beauty outright.  It was dangerous, it was foolish . . . and it
was irresistible.  He wanted Louis, and he always got what he wanted, one
way or another, despite the consequences.  Consequences?  To hell with the
consequences!

Tomorrow night he would visit Louis and work his preternatural magic on
him.  He would offer him the Dark Gift.  He would persuade him to take the
Gift.  *Nothing* must prevent Louis from accepting the Gift.  Lestat
promised himself that Louis would agree, or Louis would die.  Either way,
he would belong to Lestat . . . tomorrow night.


...........................................................................................................................................................


The blue flames that were Lestatıs eyes scorched Louis as he leaned over
him seductively, smiling an intimate smile.  Their light warmed Louisı
face and seemed to glimmer like candlelight on his ebony hair which
glistened blue-black.

It was almost too easy.  Lestat knew that Louis was finding his presence
overwhelming, but he had to be sure that the beautiful one wouldnıt change
his mind later.  His allure for Louis must be total.  He must be seduced
as no mortal could have ever seduced him.

³We are the night, Louis.  We thrive in the darkness like we thrive on the
blood.  And in the blood is everything that you could desire.²  Lestat sat
on the edge of the sumptuous bed and continued to hold Louisı gaze with
his own.  There was an aura about Lestat caused by the candlelight being
caught by the smooth sheen of his skin, seemingly absorbed, and then given
off again in a mysterious and cool moonlight-like illumination.  

³The blood will satisfy every hunger you have ever known, Louis.  All the
hunger in your body and your soul will be fed each night as you drink from
the cup that is humanity.  I will show it all to you, Louis.  I have drunk
from that divine cup every night of my preternatural life.  I know the
power of the blood to fill your soul.  I know how your soul thirsts,
Louis.  I will show you thirst you have never known before.  And I will
show you how to satisfy that thirst.  We will satisfy our thirsts
together, Louis.²  Lestat leaned closer and brushed his cool silky lips
across Louisı forehead, feeling almost faint at the smell of blood and
sweat that engulfed him while this close to the object of his desire.

³You will be free, Louis.  You will have freedom like no mortal being has
ever experienced.   Free of the fear of mortal death, free of the
constraints of human morality, you will move like a dark wonder through
the night, Louis.²  Lestatıs voice had dropped to an even more intimate
pitch, his breath caressing Louisı cheek.

³You will be immortal, Louis. Time will have no meaning.  Time will have
no chains to bind you.  You will be what you will be . . . forever.  And
forever, you will be at my side.  We will rule the endless nights . . .
together.²

Slowly Lestat brought his lips to Louisı face again, laying a tender kiss
first on one eyelid, then the other.  ³Sleep,² he whispered with the
mindvoice, and Louis relaxed against the pillows as if at a command. 
Thatıs it, my love, Lestat thought to himself.  Sleep now, your last sleep
of mortality, for tomorrow you are mine.

Lestat stayed in the quiet room a long time, lying on the bed next to
Louis, watching him sleep.  The dawn was going to come too soon.  He felt
he could lie there forever watching the play of the flickering candlelight
on Louisı slightly flushed cheeks, tormenting himself with the lovely
scent of his blood, the sound his heart made as it pumped that precious
blood through his veins.  He was enjoying the soft sound of Louisı
breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he
took.  What would he look like after the Dark Gift had worked its magic? 
Lestatıs eyes fastened on Louisı face once more.  How would he be able to
stand it if Louis grew even more beautiful once he was filled with
vampiric blood?  It was agony . . . and ecstasy . . . just thinking about
it.  His Louis.  His fledgling.


...........................................................................................................................................................
     

Despite the fact that Louis had told him he wanted the Gift, it was
survival instinct that made Louis fight for his mortal life at the last
minute.  Lestat could understand this, he had fought it all the way
himself, hadnıt he?  Louis was insisting he didnıt want it, that he just
wanted to die.  He needed a little more encouragement.  Time for the bite.

Louisı resistance faded when Lestat sat down beside him and pulled him
into his arms, holding him in a loving embrace.  Louis had forgotten the
magic of the previous night, but now it came flooding back stronger than
ever.  He was paralyzed with fear, with excitement, with longing; held
mindless and incoherent in the spell of Lestatıs powerful presence.

Lestatıs lips on the skin of his throat sent Louisı senses reeling and his
muscles shuddering.  He gasped as Lestat pierced the vein, clutching at
his vampire lover in panic.  But soon the rhythm of Lestatıs sucking, and
Lestatıs steady heartbeat, caught him up, carried him away on a tide of
sensation.  Louis lay in Lestatıs strong embrace, conscious thought almost
obliterated by the throbbing of his senses,  the throbbing of his flesh, 
the throbbing in his veins as Lestat drained his blood.

Louis clung to Lestat with what little strength he had left, trying to
heal the pain in his soul with the warmth engulfing his body.  In this
experience, Louis had some small inkling of the sensuous world he was
about to enter. His anticipation at the thought of it was almost as strong
as his dread.  And then he ceased to think at all.  

Finally, Lestat withdrew his fangs from Louisı throat and gazed down upon
the fading light of his lovely countenance.  Still holding Louis close to
his chest, blue eyes staring down intently into green, Lestat used his
fangs to tear open the vein in his wrist and held it an inch from Louisı
lips.  Drops of crimson fell on Louisıs open mouth as he gasped his final
breaths.  ³Drink,² urged Lestat.  Louis turned his head a fraction as the
first drop hit his tongue, and then he was reaching up that impossible
extra inch and fastening his mouth on Lestatıs dripping wrist.  

The pulling began . . . Louisı desperate feeding . . . Lestat could hardly
bear the wrenching pain of Louisı hungry suckling, the excruciating
draining of the blood from every vein in his body.  But bear it he would,
for as long as he could . . . for Louis.

Lestat used every ounce of his remaining strength to pull his wrist away
from Louisı hungry mouth.  He sat up, pushing Louis away.  Louis reached
for his wrist again but was suddenly distracted by something on Lestatıs
chest . . . his buttons.  Lestat almost laughed as Louis stared and
stared, first at the buttons, then at Lestatıs face, then back at the
buttons.  ³Fledglings,² said Lestat in amusement . . . and affection.

Lestat watched the vampiric blood work in Louis with fascination: the
growing preternatural whiteness of his skin, the silky hair which seemed
to spring with a life of its own from his temples, the languid way he
seemed to reach out to touch the blossoms on the trees.  He watched Louis
explore his new world of darkness, not interfering, not even speaking. 
Once Louis was distracted from his examination of Lestat by the whispering
trees surrounding them, he hardly seemed aware of Lestatıs presence at
all.

Lestat wondered if Louis would come to him when his body started its
inevitable dying process.  He remembered his own curious detachment when
he had experienced it.  Not frightening, really, just intriguing, it had
lifted him to another level of awareness of what was happening to his
body.  Louis, however . . . well, Louis might be frightened.  

Louis was.  He came rushing out of the shadows, his arms wrapped around
himself.  ³Oh God! Lestat, whatıs happening to me?  Thereıs this awful
twisting pain . . .²

Lestat hastened to reassure him.  ³Itıs only your mortal death.  Your
mortal body has to die before the preternatural blood can start to perfect
it.²  At Louisı stunned expression Lestat continued as soothingly as he
could.  ³Itıs all right, Louis.  Itıs supposed to happen.  Itıs perfectly
all right.  Youıre immortal now.  Only your body is dying.²

³Dying!  I am dying?²  Louis cried out.  

Lestat laughed, a little ashamed of the response, but not able to help
himself.  He laughed in delight.  Yes, he thought, this was going to be
perfect.  Louis was so sweet, so helpless, so . . . human!  Yes, this one
was going to be all his.  No wretched independence, no damned
preternatural coldness to drive a wedge between them.  This one was going
to cling to Lestat the way that Lestat wanted to be clung to -- with
desperation, with passion, with *need*.  Yes, he wanted Louis to need him,
as much as he now needed Louis.

But Louis did not throw himself into Lestatıs arms in tears as expected. 
After that first anguished cry, he just stared at Lestat again, hugging
himself and trembling with the spasms of his imminent mortal death.  Then
he turned and slowly made his way back into the darkness of the trees. 
Lestat wondered for a moment if he should follow.  But Louis did not call
out, and Lestat thought he probably wanted some privacy to deal with the
effects of his death.  He did not really know Louis well enough yet to
know whether he would be offended by Lestatıs presence at such a private
moment.  And so he waited . . .  . alone, as Louis went through his death
. . . alone.

When Louis eventually returned it was almost dawn.  Lestat told Louis that
he had forgotten to get a coffin for him, and therefore, for this first
night, he would have to join Lestat in his.  Of course, it was a lie. 
Lestat just wanted to have Louis close to him for this first night of his
new fledglingıs preternatural life.  He may never have as good an excuse
to suggest it ever again.  He was hoping Louis would find the idea as
appealing as he did.  Unfortunately,  Louis objected.

³What do you mean, you forgot?  You had plenty of time to prepare.  Youıve
had all night to prepare for this.  Why didnıt you mention it earlier?  I
refuse to get into any coffin with you.  There would not be enough room
for both of us anyway.  Youıll just have to help me find somewhere else to
lie.²

Lestat was incensed.  What had come over Louis?  Where was his sweetly
yielding fledgling vampire?  It was time he made a few things clear to
him.

³Now you listen to me, Louis.  Youıll get into my coffin with me before
you fall asleep on your feet.  If you get caught in the sun with the
coming of the dawn it will be a horrible and painful death for you, let me
assure you.  Youıll start to feel the pain of it soon enough now on your
face and hands.  Then youıll stop this arguing and do as youıre told.  I
know whatıs best for you, Louis.  I made you what you are now, and I am
the one who is going to keep you safe from the various dangers that can
befall a mere fledgling vampire.  You have a lot to learn, Louis.  Donıt
make it any harder on yourself than you need to by arguing with me about
things you know nothing about.²

When Lestat had finished his tirade, Louis was looking at him with a grim
expression marring the sculpted surface of his pale face.  It soon
smoothed out into an inscrutable mask, at once more blatantly supernatural
and incredibly beautiful.  He did not argue again when it came time to get
into the coffin and lie on top of Lestat.  In fact, he did not utter a
word for the longest time.  He held himself as stiffly as he could in the
close confines of the coffin despite Lestatıs constant shifting to get
into a more comfortable position.  Finally he asked Lestat, ³Am I dead
now?²

³Not quite,² answered Lestat, wondering how to bridge the awful silence,
the yawning gulf that seem to be growing between himself and Louis.  He
did not like this.  He did not understand it at all.  ³You will be by the
time you awaken tomorrow at sunset.²  His voice was curt.  A vague
troubling feeling was trying to steal away the euphoria he had felt at
Louisı birth to darkness.  He did not want to acknowledge it.  He didnıt
dare admit to himself that niggling feeling of disappointment.  He had
Louis now.  What more did he want?  

Once Lestat was sure that Louis was unconscious, he carefully enfolded him
in his arms, just coming short of crushing his new fledgling to him in his
embrace.  Louis must never know just how much Lestat needed him.  Never. 
It was too dangerous.  He would do almost anything to keep this one, would
give him almost anything.  Who knew to what lengths he would go to keep
him now that he had him.  Yes, this was real, he reassured himself
fiercely, pressing the sleeping form to himself in the close confines of
the narrow coffin.  He had actually done it.  Louis was *his* . . . for
all eternity.  The dawn would never separate him from Louis again.  Only
Louis himself could ever do that.  And he would never let him.  Never.

******************

Second spec in this series is tentatively titled ³Damn This Silence.²