Christmas in New York
© Dark Angel
rueroyale@yahoo.com
Spoilers: VampChron to TotBT
Status: Complete
Characters: IWTV. Information from all VampChrons are incorporated into these characterizations of Louis and Armand, but in the main they are based upon the characters and their relationship as presented in IWTV.
Disclaimer: this work of speculative fiction uses stolen characters and steals some old Latin hymns, uses titles of several well known movies and one ballet, in other words, the following people: The author of the Vampire Chronicles, Knopf Publishing, Tchaikovski, 20th Century Fox, Fox Video, George Seaton, Frank Capra, Republic Pictures, MCA Home Video, Paramount Pictures and God knows many many more, but please don't, because He knows if you've been bad or good, so don't sue for DA's sake. No infringement upon their rights in intended. Keep Cookies And Milk Inside The Sleigh At All Times. Thank You.
Dedication: This SPEC is dedicated to my heart and my soul, Father of Lies. To Heather. To the Mods. And finally of course to all of you who read and comment. Merry SPEChristmas darling dears!
Author's Notes: FYI - Adeste Fideles (O Come All Ye Faithful), Veni, Veni, Emmanuel (O Come, O Come Emmanuel), Ave Maria (Hail Mary)French Glossary:
Ferme la bouche - Shut your mouth
J'taime - I love you
Joyeaux Noel - Merry ChristmasItalian Glossary:
****************************
Io ti amo - I love you
Béllo - Beauty (male)
Buon Natale - Merry Christmas
"I want you. I want you more than anything in the world.""No, I've had to wait and watch for you. And now I'll fight for you. Do you see how ruthless I am in love?"
-Quotes - Armand to Louis IWTV"You have me. I love you."
-Quote - Louis to Armand IWTV
***************************23 Decembre
Armand, constant and loyal, still with me though my companionship is less than pleasant. I haven't spoken for at least five nights, or is it seven? I have nothing to say. I have spent the last few weeks in the museum, studying the Italian Renaissance art. It is wonderfully rendered; such rich colors, such expressive faces. It is truly beautiful and I can lose myself in it for hours. Unlike the Eastern ikons which I stared at until the colors swam before me. The disproportionate bodies, the odd adult faces on the Christ child, the symbolism, it was all so foreign to me. It had to be studied. I couldn't digest it immediately. It was something I had wanted to discuss with Armand, but he wasn't interested in it. I didn't press. It is often enough that I do the same to him. I do not begrudge him his turn at it. But then the Italian works are easy to love. I understand the vibrancy and the images. Due to the season, an exhibit of Renaissance Nativities has been on show. I love to be with them. I sit in the middle of the exhibit walls, surrounded by them.Armand accompanies me to the museum, then seeing that I am once again not in a talkative mood, disappears. I don't know where he goes. I sit entranced until he comes to retrieve me. If he didn't come I think I might sit right through dawn. I have thought on that. Perhaps one night he'll be delayed, and I will go with the sunlight.
But Armand would never let that happen. He is accustomed to caring for lunatics, the coven master of Paris. I suppose that is why he stays. He is used to the responsibility. He may not know what to do without it.
I feel that I should do something for him. I do appreciate him, though he couldn't tell it from my behavior. He thinks me indifferent to him, which isn't true. I must make an overture to him. I must try to make amends. I have been unforgivably rude, and he is so patient with me. He is so kind to me. His voice is still soft when he speaks to me.
It is nearly Christmas. There has been a large Christmas tree erected behind the ice skating rink. I wonder if Armand knows how to ice skate? God knows, I haven't the vaguest idea, but it looks lovely, flying over the glass-like ice.
Perhaps, rather than the museum, I'll ask if he'd like to come with me to watch the skaters and to see the tree. It is a wonder of lights, as I saw through the blood of my unfortunate victim last night. He'll agree, of course, cher Armand, he always agrees with me. But I wonder if he would actually enjoy it? Only one way to find out, I suppose. I would ask him what he would like to do, but his answer is always the same, "Whatever you wish, Louis."
LdPdL
New York
Winter, 1947
I came back to the apartment and Louis was already up, writing in his journal, quite a surprise. Last night and the night before I had to rouse him from his coffin, where he had lain after he awoke brooding on his hellish dreams. I know this only because I can read his thoughts. He hasn't spoken in over two weeks. I constantly monitor his thoughts, checking for any hints of madness. So far, he has retained his sanity. This is a blessing for me, as I don't know that I could lead him into the fire, though often it is the most merciful solution."Bonsoir, Armand." Louis looked up as I entered and actually smiled at me, another shock.
"Good Evening, Louis," I answered, coming to him. He put his pen down, closed his journal and stood. I did not mention anything about his recent silence, nor his sudden return to speech. We never mention such things.
He stepped forward and, very politely, kissed both of my cheeks, and then stepped back. I stepped toward him and returned the gesture. One trait I do appreciate in Louis is that he does take care not to accentuate our height difference. He never stands too near so that I have to look up at him. He never pats my head, nor rests his arm on my shoulder. Louis respects me as his elder. He is able to make me feel more my immortal age than my mortal one. I could love him for that alone. And he loves me.
"Would you like to go and see the Christmas tree?" he asked. "I thought we could watch the skaters for a bit tonight."
Was I dreaming? Louis wanted to go and watch mortals? "I would, Louis. I would like that very much," I answered.
He smiled again. His green eyes sparkled. How long since I'd seen that? Years certainly, but how many? He put his journal back into his desk drawer. Not that I would read it, but he must have things in their proper place.
I went to the closet and removed the coat I had bought for him two years ago. It still looked brand new. He hardly ever wore it. I looked in the pockets for the gloves and scarf, but he had no hat. I'd have to cut his hair, which he disliked. It isn't the short hair he minded, but the barbering. Unfortunately men did not go around in this day and age with hair the length of his. I brought the coat into the sitting room.
"You'll need to wear this so that you do not attract attention. Reasonable people do not walk about this city with no coat on in the dead of winter," I informed him. He laughed and acquiesced. I went to retrieve a comb and scissors.
"Come into the kitchen, Louis," I called as I walked back through the sitting room with my tools.
"Why?" he asked.
"You have no hat. I need to cut your hair."
"Oh." He followed me listlessly.
I sat him in a chair and combed out his hair. "This will be easier if it is wet."
"Alright," he answered in a bored voice.
Louis was so unconscious of his appearance. He acted as if it were all a waste of time. But styles change, and fashions change, one had to keep up with them. One must identify with the present, not the past. I'd had to deliver this lecture to him at least once a decade during our travels together. He didn't argue with me anymore.
He returned to the kitchen with his hair dampened and sat down.
"Tres bien," I said.
He sighed. I combed through his hair once more. Such fine black waves, nothing as difficult as my mop of curls. I cut off most of the length to begin with, then shortened the back and sides, parted it on the side and combed it over. It was a fairly standard style for young men in New York at the time. Of course it would never stay, but I hadn't cut his hair in so long, I no longer had any of those products used to hold it in place; Brill Cream, VO5, Vaseline. Oh well, it was only tonight.
I stood back and regarded my work. It was a good haircut, even and all that. It did however, serve to give Louis the appearance of a somewhat tall sixteen year old. Short hair accentuates his childlike features, as long hair does for mine. I doubt he noticed, but I rather enjoyed it.
I brushed the hair off of his shoulders. The clothes he was wearing would do; dark sweater and black pants. They would be under his coat anyway. I led him back to the sitting room and handed him the coat, taking mine from the coat rack.
"You need to wear the gloves. They're in your pockets," I told him. He obeyed me.
Out on the street he turned to me and asked, "Do you know the way, Armand?"
I laughed. We'd been in New York twenty-two years, even if he did spend most of them in a museum. "Have you forgotten?"
He smiled an embarrassed smile and nodded.
I took his hand. "Come, Louis."
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and then we released each other. The casual touching, which he and I had been accustomed to with our more European backgrounds, was not appropriate in modern America. We both still had to be careful of that. I led him through the streets. I knew he was hungry, but I also knew he wouldn't feed until late in the evening. We saw the Christmas tree from blocks away, but the closer we got, the more stunning it became.
"Armand!" Louis gasped, as we finally reached it's very branches.
"Yes, beautiful, isn't it?" I answered.
"It is." There was wonder in his eyes, and actual delight in his smile. It warmed me to see it. We bent our heads back to look up at the star.
"Such lights," Louis commented.
"Six thousand light bulbs," I told him.
"Six thousand?"
"Yes, it was in the newspaper."
"Ah."
We walked to the edge of the ice rink and watched the skaters.
"Have you ever ice skated?" he asked me.
"Me? Ice skate? No."
"Oh." He sounded disappointed.
"You don't know how, do you?"
"No."
"The lovely green winters of New Orleans." I studied him for a moment. "You can you know, Louis."
"Can what?"
"You can ice skate if you wish," I told him.
"Strangely, Armand, the prospect of making a fool of myself in public does not appeal to me," he said. His sense of humor was back, a very good sign.
"No, Louis," I laughed. "I mean you CAN skate. You have the ability. You have excellent balance and faster than human reflexes. You won't fall."
He looked as if he didn't believe me.
"You climbed the tower, didn't you?" I said.
"Oh that damn tower." Louis rolled his eyes.
Well, yes, perhaps I did use that particular example somewhat more than necessary, to get him to do things I wanted him to try, but still, he couldn't refute it.
"Are there any other new marvels they've erected for Christmas?" he asked.
"Louis, you are changing the subject." It was one of his favorite tricks. He was getting more and more skilled at it all the time, but I always caught it. Sometimes I would pretend I didn't and let him get away with it, but not tonight.
"I'd rather not skate now, Armand," he said, in his formal tone, which was supposed to imply that I was being less than gracious to him. Childish, but then he was one, compared to me. I ignored it.
"Come with me, then." I smiled. "I think I know of something which you would like to see."
I led him to the shopping district. It was nearing 9:00 p.m. and the long lines of people which usually ringed the buildings were short and thin. I brought him close to the street level windows.
"Automatons!" Louis exclaimed.
"Yes." I smiled.
"Armand, these are magnificent!" He smiled back at me.
I knew he'd love them. We walked slowly around the buildings, in awe of the Santa writing his list, the elves building toys, the rabbits building a snow rabbit, the bears baking cookies, the penguins sharpening their skates.
"See Louis, even penguins can skate."
"If you'd look closer, Armand, you may notice that they aren't actually skating."
We continued past the family decorating a Christmas tree, snow fairies making frost paintings, puppies hanging stockings, kittens hanging mittens and other such scenes of such undeniable cuteness I was ashamed to be enjoying it so much.
Christmas music could be heard from speakers mounted on the storefronts. We paid it little heed until we heard a melody we both recognized. We looked at each other.
"Do you hear that?" we asked.
"Yes!" we answered.
We listened a bit longer.
"I know it, what is it?" I said, trying to place the tune.
After a few more notes Louis answered, "Adeste Fideles!"
"Of course!" I cried.
And, in a completely uncharacteristic display for both of us, we joined in at the chorus.
"Venite adoramus,
venite adoramus,
venite adoramus,
Dominum!"
We laughed. We continued down the street; seals decorating their seal house with festive fish of all sizes and colors, polar bears drinking soda, dancing reindeer. After a few incomprehensible melodies, another song we recognized was played.
"Veni, veni, Emmanuel,
captivum solve Israel.
Qui gemit in exilio
Privatus Dei filio.
Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel;
Nascetur prote, Israel."
We sang it right through to the end. It had a rather sad melody, but it was beautiful. The street was almost deserted by this time. I took Louis's arm, he put his hand in mine. We stood and watched hedgehogs play hand bells.
"I always did love Christmas," Louis commented.
"Did you? I suppose Pére Noel brought you many many gifts," I said cynically.
"Yes . . .If I was good," Louis answered, grinning.
"Were you good?"
"I tried to be."
"As I suspected. I cannot imagine you being anything but the perfect child," I said with disgust.
"And weren't you?"
"I cannot remember ever being anything other than the little demon that I am," I answered, proudly.
He laughed and shook his head. We continued to walk through the city. Though it was after midnight, we could still hear carolers and the bubbly sounds of Christmas parties. Louis began to shiver. He had to feed. I needed to give him an escape. And I had just had a terrific idea.
"Louis, I have business I need to attend to. I will return to the apartment later.""Yes, Armand."
24 Decembre
I have little time to write now, I am going out with Armand, but I want to briefly put down what has happened so far tonight.
I had to go to my coffin before Armand returned last night, but I awoke to an amazing sight. A Christmas tree, lit with so many lights I couldn't count all the strands! I pushed myself out of my coffin, wondering how he had fit such a tree into my room. But as I stood, I saw that he had instead carried my coffin to our sitting room. I turned to see him in the corner, smiling indulgently at me.
"Do you like it Louis?" he asked me.
"Armand, thank you!" I stepped from my coffin and went to kiss him. He was warm from the kill. He held me tight. We kissed as we had years ago when we first discovered our love for each other.
"Do you want to go out again?" I asked him.
He smiled, such a pure expression of love. Armand's beauty is truly transcendent. He is living art. I could study the curve of his mouth, the depth of his eyes, the perfection of his limbs, forever.
"Yes, Louis, let's go out again," he answered me. He lifted my coffin and carried it back to my bedroom. "Go and fetch the comb and the scissors."
I did as he asked, wetting my hair as well, since he would only make me do it later if I didn't do it now. He insisted upon cutting my hair whenever we went out. I thought it was a nuisance, but I think he enjoyed it. He cut his own hair to reflect the current fashion, which was fine with me. But he always made me sit until he had achieved something fashionable with mine. I've told him that it would be faster, easier and acceptable in society to simply cut it all off, very short, like soldiers do. He was horrified. So, instead, I endure at least thirty minutes of cutting and clipping and various concoctions that are supposed to make it stay in whatever unnatural configuration Armand has made of it. I hate it. I plainly hate it. But I do love him, so I must tolerate it.
I went into the kitchen.
"Sit," he pushed me down into a chair. He lifted the hair at the back of my head, gathered it, and cut it off.
"Finished?" I asked, hopefully.
"Ferme la bouche, Louis, or I'll cut off your ears," he threatened. He combed my hair out, cut off most of it, parted it in the wrong place, and combed it all over to one side, which my hair is well aware that it was never meant to do. It refused to stay. He produced a jar of something sticky and greasy.
"What is that?" I asked in annoyance.
"Pomade. Don't complain."
He combed this odd substance through my hair and released me.
"I don't know why you use such things, I'll only have to wash it out before I go to sleep."
"I don't make the fashions, Louis, I only follow them."
I sighed and went to find my coat. I thought vaguely that life was much easier when I wasn't talking.
"Wait, Louis." He said. "I have another surprise for you."
He held out two tickets to me. I was oddly reminded of the first time we'd met, when he had handed me the invitation to Le Theatre des Vampyres. I took them and read the event.
"New York Ballet - The Nutcracker Suite." I kissed him
"I thought you might enjoy it." He said, laughing. The laughter made his deep brown eyes flash with ruby sparkles and golden light. I loved to look at them.
"Armand," I said. "It is wonderful!"
"Good." He said, "Go and put on your suit."
Which I must do now.
LdPdL
New York
Winter, 1947
Part 2
I called for a cab. I didn't particularly want to walk through the slush. Louis looked splendid in his black wool suit, as did I in mine of blue. The taxicab came quickly and we rode to the ballet theatre in a comfortable silence. We arrived and were shown to a private box with an excellent view. Louis was thrilled. I reached for his hand, he let me take it willingly. We watched the familiar ballet with relish. I was happy to see him involved again. As always, when he had emerged from one of his silent moods, some of his old passion which had so captivated me came back, and I would want him more than ever. And when the ballet came to its Christmas morning end, Louis turned to me and said something which stunned and enchanted me so much that I could not speak.
"Armand, would you come skating with me?"
I just stared at him. His green eyes were bright and imploring. He tried to run his fingers through his hair, but pulled them away as he touched the pomade. I knew that this habit was secretly why he disliked the pomade and such so intensely. He would unconsciously lift his hand to his hair and get it all over his fingers. It also reminded him of how often he did this, a fact of which he would prefer to be unaware. He hated having the nervous habit, but had so far been unable to break himself of it. I heard him chastise himself with a sharp 'Stop that!' in his thoughts. I realized that I had been staring too long.
"Yes, Louis. Yes, I will." I smiled at him. His eyes registered such deep gratitude that I was humbled by it. "Let's get out of here."
It was well after midnight once we had both hunted and met at the ice rink beneath the Christmas tree. The place was deserted but for us. I admit, I was quite excited. Not just at the skating, but to be with Louis. It had been so long since we had shared a new experience together, but they always proved to be delightfully memorable.
We climbed through the window of the rink office and skate rental to find skates for ourselves. We briefly marveled at what huge sizes the men's skates went up to. It seemed that Americans get bigger feet every generation. I found a pair that fit and looked up to see Louis in a glass walled booth behind the skates. I carried a pair in for him.
He was curiously investigating some of the equipment.
"It's the music!" he informed me as I entered. I turned to the switches in a box on a wall.
"And the lights," I added, flipping a few toggles which bathed the ice in red, yellow and blue lights.
Louis was hovering uncertainly over the music dials. I gave him the smallest mental nudge and he activated the music. He turned and favored me with the conspiratorially guilty smile of a child stealing a sweet. I reached for him, and he yielded to me. I took him in my arms and kissed him. We removed our shoes and donned the skates. I stood and walked to the door. I looked back at him. He had risen and was leaning against a wall, testing his balance.
"Louis, simply walk as lightly as you can. You will not fall," I assured him, gently. He took a breath and stood straight.
"Walk to me," I instructed.
He did so, perfectly. I smiled at him.
"You see? You have far more power than you know. You could walk a tightrope if you wished to."
We walked hand in hand to the ice and mimicked what we had watched the skaters do the night before. We glided effortlessly in circles, turns and figure eights. We were both thrilled with the feel of it.
The music was a mix of waltzes and Christmas carols. When the Skater's Waltz began, Louis took my hand, and put his other hand at my waist. I smiled and nodded and allowed him to lead me through the dance. He was very good, and he enjoyed dancing. I gazed into his eyes as he twirled us around the ice, and I knew why I loved him. It was his mystery, his overwhelming beauty and his ability to make me feel emotions I had once thought I would never feel again. He wanted to be mine, and I allowed myself to be his. We skated on and on, dancing over the ice in the glow of the Christmas tree and the warmth of each other's arms.
Then a familiar hymn began. It captured our attention immediately.
"Ave María, gratia plena,
María, gratia plena,
María, gratia plena.
Ave, ave, Dominus,
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in muliéribus,
et benedictus,
et benedictus fructus ventris,
ventris tui Iesus.
Ave Maria."
We were plunged completely and unexpectedly into our own memories. I was again a child in Venice. I was dressed in a tunic of dark blue velvet, wrapped in a heavy cloak lined with soft rabbit fur, wearing new leather shoes, which never touched the ground as Marius carried me into the Basilica for the candlelight mass at Christmas. I had only been with my master a few months, but I could remember no other life.
"You may hold the candle, Amadeo." Marius's voice alone quickened me.
I was dazzled by the beauty of the church. The candles and the incense seemed to place a calm over my heart and mind. The stained glass and the paintings were heartbreakingly intense and brilliant.
"Master, what is this celebration? Why do we gather at night? And why do you come to this mass, when you have never come to any other?" I asked him in my broken Italian. I was still learning, but he could understand every word I said, as always.
"They celebrate the birth of light into the world, Amadeo. The coming of the God of love, my precious one." Marius could speak to me so that I understood every word he said as well.
"The god you named me for, sir?" I loved to see the candlelight reflected in his ice blue eyes.
"Si, my Amadeo. And I come here to show this to you, this beauty, this majesty. And here serves me as well as anywhere to give thanks to Love for bringing you to me." Marius's smile was kind and full of adoration. It alone could keep me as warm as the arms he cradled me in.
"Then I shall give thanks too, sir. Nothing has ever given me such pleasure and joy as to be with you, my Master. I am happy beyond words to be in your safe keeping. I worship you, and I shall worship whom and what you worship." I lifted my face for a kiss.
He touched his lips to mine, chastely. "Listen to the music, young one. Listen to the voices."
I was quiet and he sang the words of the Ave very softly and patted me in time with the melody. I knew that I would never be without love. But children are often wrong.
Louis was remembering a Christmas midnight mass as well. I could see him in his own mind. He stood, a frightened boy of nine, dressed as an angel, in the vestibule of the St. Louis Cathedral. He was listening to the verses being read in the old French.
"And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent forth from God . . ."
Louis peeked through the door. He saw his mother, who caught his eye and blew him a kiss. She pressed his father's arm. He turned and smiled at Louis.
"Non, Louis, not yet," the choirmaster gently pulled him back.
Louis looked up at him with his enormous emerald eyes. "I don't remember the words, monsieur!" he whispered worriedly.
The choirmaster smiled and knelt down to him. "Louis, you know the words to the Ave Maria. Don't be frightened, petit, when you hear the music, you'll remember."
"And the angel came unto her, and said, "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee . . ."
The choir master turned Louis to face the door, straightened the silver halo resting in his black curls, handed him a candle, and nodded, opening the door.
Louis took three slow measured steps, listening to the music, opened his mouth, and the words of the Ave flowed out in his sweet, clear soprano.
"So you were an angel, were you?" I teased Louis.
He blushed. "I sometimes wish I could see your thoughts as you see mine."
"No you do not Louis. My thoughts are no place for you."
He spun me into a long glide.
"Louis?"
"Yes?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you are a wonderful skater?" I grinned. He laughed.
At the same moment we saw a police car drive toward the rink. We ran to the office building, and leapt through the window. We shut off the lights and music, then ducked behind the racks of skates. But the policeman had seen fit to investigate. He tried the door, finding it locked, before he could discover the window I sent the thought to his mind that it must have been his imagination, too much eggnog back at the station house. He turned and left. We giggled with relief, returning the skates and slipping into our shoes. We walked home, I didn't care about the slush anymore.
At our apartment, we removed our suits, and I admit I used a bit of spellbinding to get Louis into the bathtub with me. We washed each other's hair, and bathed each other's bodies. We lingered in the warm sudsy water and let our hands roam where they would. It was sensual and it was good. It grew late. The water cooled. Louis began to feel drowsy. I stepped from the tub and lifted him out. We dried each other with thick soft towels. The dawn was coming fast now. I wrapped Louis in his towel and helped him to his room. His legs gave out. I shoved a sweater over his head and pushed him into a pair of pants. Nothing would put Louis in a worse humor than waking up naked. I raised the lid of his coffin and laid him to rest. His eyes were closing.
"Armand," he said softly. "J'taime."
"Io ti amo, Louis."
25 Decembre
Again I am jotting this as I dress for Armand. I had gone to find him when I awoke, and he was already in our kitchen, with scissors and comb. I was less than happy at the implication, but the bliss of the night before enabled me to undergo the ordeal once more for him. He saw me.
"Good evening, Louis," he pulled a chair out for me.
I closed my eyes momentarily, and then sat down. Armand chuckled at my resignation. He repeated his performance of last night.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"It is a surprise, caro," he said with a mysterious smile. "Wear your double breasted suit with the blue tie."
I nodded and went to do so. I stopped, though, before the Christmas tree. It was a vision of lights. I don't know how long I stood and stared, loving it, memorizing it. Armand brought me around with a soft kiss.
"Béllo, what are you doing?"
"Oh, Armand, I must have gotten distracted. The tree, it is so beautiful. Look at how the lights reflect back on themselves, on the windows, on the ceiling."
"Ah, yes, caro mio." He leaned his back against my chest, pulling my arms around himself. "I am so glad it makes you happy."
I kissed his hair. "Armand?"
"Hmmm?"
"I appreciate what you do for me. I am sorry I have been so distant lately. I have been ignoring you. I have been discourteous and rude and generally unfit-to-live-with. I beg your forgiveness, mon cheri," I apologized.
Armand laughed his tender, melodic laugh. "Caro, you never have to beg me for anything." He turned in my arms to face me. "Louis, mi amore, you have given yourself to me again. I forgive you everything."
Tears came to my eyes. I kissed his soft lips. I held him close to me. "Thank you, thank you Armand."
He linked his arms around me and lifted me slightly off my feet. His strength still continued to amaze me. He set me down. "Would you rather stay home, Louis?" He caressed my cheek.
"Non, Armand I am eager to see your surprise."
His lovely face transformed into a jubilant smile. I was so pleased to make him happy. "I'll go and get dressed," I said.
I cannot begin to guess at what Armand has planned, but I will be content so long as I am with him.
LdPdL
New York
Winter, 1947
My Louis, he wanted to make amends. He was always quick to admit his wrongs, especially if he felt he had hurt me. He returned to me dressed as I had asked him to be.
I took him out. I heightened the hunger in his mind so that he would be able to feed early. I steered him toward the places where the poor and the desperate congregate. He could not call to him those who wish to die, but I tried, when I could, to have him hunt areas where he was more likely to take one who had little to live for. We fed separately, but quickly.
I took him to Radio City Music Hall. It was dark and deserted of course, being Christmas night.
"Armand, there are no films being shown. It is closed for Christmas."
"Appearances can be deceiving, caro."
I guided him through the empty lobby and into the theatre. I sat him down, he looked at me questioningly. I sat beside him, and snapped my fingers. At once the curtains parted to reveal the screen. Louis gasped. I snapped twice and a film began to roll. Louis squeezed my hand very hard in his excitement. He loved films.
"Surprised?" I asked.
"Very surprised! What film is it?"
"Miracle On 34th Street." I said, it was the current film on the outside marquee.
Louis smiled. "I've wanted to see that."
"And Going My Way, The Bells Of St. Mary's, It's A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol, " I reeled off the titles of Christmas films he'd enjoyed in the past.
His eyes widened. He could hardly believe it. "But how did you get them? All of them? Really?"
"Yes, caro." I said, answering the last question. The first two would take far too long to explain. "Now, shhh!" I pointed to the screen as the Thanksgiving parade began to take shape.
Louis turned to watch the films but I watched him. He was so ecstatic he was practically bouncing in his seat, an extremely rare mood for him. I loved it, and even more I loved that I had caused it. Every so often I would see in him the fire he had when we first met, and I tried to stoke that fire when I could.
When the last film had rolled to a finish I stood and Louis unexpectedly threw his arms around me, kissing my face.
"You're welcome, caro." I laughed.
We caught a taxi and rode back to the apartment. As we entered, Kris, our doorman, informed Louis that his deliveries had arrived. Nicholas, in maintenance, had put them in our apartment. Louis and I both tipped him generously, as we always did, and Louis thanked him.
"What deliveries?" I asked.
"This is your surprise, cheri." Louis smiled, opening our door and holding it for me.
I was astonished. There, beneath the tree, were presents! I looked at Louis.
"For you, cheri." He beamed at me.
"Louis! I don't know what to say. Grazie. They're beautiful!" And they were. Boxes of all shapes and sizes wrapped in shiny colored paper, with gold and silver bows. They twinkled like jewels under the lights of the tree.
"Open them," Louis urged.
"Alright." I smiled. I sat on the carpet under the tree. Louis removed his jacket and tie and did the same. I grabbed a smallish box and held it to my ear, shaking it. No sound.
"Money?" I asked him.
He smacked my shoulder, laughing. "OPEN it, Armand!"
I did. It was a silk tie, beautifully embroidered with an intricate A.
The next was a large painting of an Italian villa I had admired at least three years ago.
A golden pocket watch.
An antique Virginal. I had mentioned once that I had played one.
Gold and diamond cufflinks.
The very latest, top of the line radio. Louis knew I was fascinated with radio.
A phonograph.
Phonograph records (The Nutcracker Suite, Adeste Fideles, Veni, Veni Emmanuel, Ave Maria, and The Skater's Waltz)
and finally, a brand new pair of ice skates.
There were tears in my eyes, which was a turn about for us.
"When did you do all of this, caro?"
"Some last night, while you were hunting, some the night before." He began setting up the phonograph. When he'd finished, I handed him a record.
"May I have this dance?"
Louis smiled and nodded. He put the record on the phonograph and set the needle to it. I took him in my arms and we danced to the strains of the Skater's Waltz until near dawn.
"I have to go to my coffin." Louis said.
"I know, caro." I pulled him down to the floor with me. I sat in front of the Christmas tree and laid him in my lap. "Don't worry, Louis. Let your eyes close. The windows are covered. We are protected from the sun. I'll keep you safe."
He pushed himself up to kiss me. He lay back down, looked up into my eyes and smiled.
"Joyeaux Noel, cheri."
I leaned down and kissed him.
"Buon Natale, caro."
And we fell asleep entwined in each other.
Love is the greatest gift of all.
Fini