This Holiday Season
© Dark Angel
rueroyale@yahoo.com
Spoilers: IWTV - TVA
Aspects from two of my other SPECS - Little Known Facts about Louis and Lestat and Trio in Rio - Chapter Six sort of snuck in here too.
Status: Incomplete
Disclaimer: This is a little story about Christmastime. The characters are taken from the Vampire Chronicles. I do not claim to own them, (though I have asked Santa for them this Christmas) and no profit will be made from this work of speculative fiction. No infringement upon the rights of the author of the Vampire Chronicles (EVIL) , Knopf Publishing (Nice), Kith and Kin (Naughty), Random House Books (Naughty), The City of New Orleans (VERY Naughty!), snowmen (Nice), candy canes (Naughty), reindeer (Nice), elves (Unbelievably Naughty), Christ, Christmas, Christians or Chris Rice is intended.
KEY
~ telepathic communication ~
+ signed communication +
GLOSSARY
Nepote - (Latin) Grandson
Tesoro - (Italian) Treasure
Diable Joli - (French) Pretty Devil21 Decembre 1999 Joyeaux Noel!
Happy Hannukah!
Merry Solstice!
Happy Kwanzaa!
Blessed Ramadan
Season's Greetings!
and
Happy Holidays to you all, My Darling Dears!
This Spec is dedicated to my own Beloved, FoL.
I am so glad that Papa Noel left you in my stocking.
Tu es ma vie, ma couer, ma ame. and also to:
Ana I
Artemesia
Artemis Lunarsa
Buni
Carol
Claire
Deb P
Heather
JP
Kabuki
Karen FS Ebony
Kelin WhiteMist
La Femme Christine
Laura Ann
Lyn
Morrigan
Serenity
SilverHawk
Stumbleine
Tomo
and
WendyFor all the interest, support, encouragement, patience and comments this year (1999).
*hugs and kisses*
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Marius tapped the tickets on the burnished mahogany bannister, waiting for his grandson to appear. They had been in Prague less than three nights, and already Daniel was in the midst of the literati; meeting people, collecting stories and talking politics in his flawless Czech, of which he knew not a single word when they had arrived. Marius generally enjoyed the same type of contact with contemporary mortals, but tonight they had a plane to catch and Marius was looking forward to the trip.
~Daniel, come.~
~In a minute, Marius~
~That was what you said twenty minutes ago. Shall I drag you out here myself or simply leave without you?~
~Don't get your toga in a bunch, Grandad, we have plenty of time~
~Two minutes, Daniel, and I am walking out of this hotel, understand?~
~Gotcha~
Marius sighed. He was unsure if Daniel was really this interested in the mortals around him, or if he was simply avoiding the inevitable. Daniel had some reservations about spending Christmas with Lestat and Louis in New Orleans, because it was almost certain that Armand would be there. The two of them hadn't spoken since before Armand had gone into the sun. Marius wasn't certain of all the facts, Daniel refused to speak of it, but could not hide that the parting had been incredibly painful for him.
Marius scanned the minds of the mortals near Daniel. It was gratifying to him to see that the charming man with the sunny smile and cynical wit was accepted among them readily, even eagerly, and that there was not the least suspicion that he was more than he seemed. Daniel was skilled at blending in and had a natural talent for putting others at ease. Marius usually just took the shortcut by light mind control of the mortals around him, but he had picked up a few tricks from observing Daniel that could certainly prove useful sometime.
"Okay, okay, I'm all yours," Daniel said, as he descended the steps toward Marius. "You sure you want to go to America? Christmas is going to be a huge ritual event here; candles, lights, chanting, incense, girls in veils, guys in dresses, parading in the streets, the whole bit. You'd love it, I'm telling you."
"The car is waiting and the luggage is already in the trunk." Marius said, turning and walking briskly out the door.
"Guess that answers my question." Daniel said to himself, following the older vampire.
Once they were in the airplane and airborne, Marius continued the conversation. "You already promised Louis that you would come."
"Yeah, but that shouldn't count, he manipulated me with the old Pointe du Lac 'polite-but-hurt' voice when I said I'd have to think about it," Daniel did a rather good imitation of Louis's soft voice, complete with Creole French accent, "Oh . . . I understand, Danielle, of course, and thank you for returning my call."
Marius laughed.
"I shouldn't let it get to me, I know, but what can you do? it's Louis." Daniel shrugged.
"What, indeed?" Marius smiled.
Madame Mekare
Madame Maharet
Monsieur David Talbot
Mademoiselle Jessica Reeves
You are cordially invited to attend a Christmas gathering at
1132 Rue Royale
New Orleans, Louisiana
United States of America
Festivities will begin Decembre 24th, 10:oo p.m. central standard time.
Accommodations will be provided both at Rue Royale and at
1314 Napoleon Avenue.
All appropriate measures have been taken to insure your safety and security and all additional requests will be granted.
The duration of your stay is at your pleasure, but we do hope that you will remain with us through the New Year Celebration.
Please do us the honor of joining us this holiday season.
Monsieur Louis de Pointe du Lac
His Lordship Lestat de Lioncourt, Marquis D'Auvergne
et
Mojo
R.S.V.P if possible to
1-504-522-8634
Post Script - Due to the ephemeral and transitory nature of our coven members, and our own limitations, we may not be able to contact everyone. Therefore, we would be grateful if you would extend this invitation to whomever you may encounter, by any means of communication at your disposal. Merci Beaucoup.
Jesse looked up after reading the invitation aloud, "They mean Gabrielle, you know."
"I shall do what I can." Maharet nodded. "Though even my voice cannot reach her if she does not wish to be disturbed."
"I hope she does deign to grace us with her presence. I know that Lestat would be very hurt if she didn't attend." David commented.
"So we are all going, I assume?" Jesse said, lifting the receiver of the telephone. All eyes turned to Mekare.
After a long pause she signed, +I will go+
Jesse smiled and began dialing the New Orleans number.
"I will contact Eric, Santino and Mael." Maharet said, walking into her private rooms, "In case the children were unable to find addresses for them. David, would you mind calling Khayman, to make certain he knows of the invitation?"
"Certainly," David nodded, he reached out mentally for Khayman.
~Yes, David?~ The Egyptian's inner voice was as friendly as his outer disposition.
~I am sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you have received an invitation to spend Christmas with Lestat and Louis?~
~No disturbance at all, young one. I have been invited. Will I see you there as well?~
~Yes, Jesse, Maharet, Mekare and I are all going.~
~Ah, what a wonderful reunion it will be.~
David gave a telepathic laugh, ~Let us all hope so.~
~You have little faith in your brothers and sisters, David.~
~Perhaps that comes from knowing a few of them too well.~
~The pretty one will keep the brat in line, and I believe that I can dissuade anyone else from starting any unpleasantness.~
~I have no doubt of that, sir. Merry Christmas, I'll see you there.~
~It was good talking with you, young one.~ Khayman broke the contact.
"What is the news from Cancun?" Jesse asked.
"He is coming." David answered. "Did you reach Louis or Lestat?"
"I reached their answering machine, they'll get the message when they awake."
Maharet joined them, leading Mekare by the hand. "Are we ready then, children?"
"Shouldn't we gather some things first?" David asked.
+No+ Mekare signed. +We haven't need of anything which we cannot find at our destination+
David said nothing, accepting this. He, Jesse and the twins rose into the air without another word, heading away from the sunrise, into the long night, toward New Orleans.
Santino approached his sleeping lover. "Eric? Tesoro? Wake up, that woman has contacted me."
Eric turned over and blinked sleepily. "Maharet? What's the matter?"
"Nothing. She wants you to go to New Orleans."
"New Orleans?" Eric sat up. "Why?"
"Coven gathering."
Eric smiled and kissed Santino, "Ah, then you mean she wants US to go to New Orleans."
Santino waved his hand as if to say, whatever you wish.
"When is this gathering?"
"Tomorrow night." Santino climbed into bed, pulling Eric's delicate form into his arms.
Eric wound his fingers in Santino's curly, black hair. "Shall we go, my little saint?" Eric grinned.
"Would I have woke you if we weren't going, Tesoro Mio?" Santino stared into Eric's soft brown eyes, as always they melted his heart and softened his manner. He bestowed light kisses down Eric's hairless chest.
Eric moaned quietly. "Why New Orleans?"
"The Brat and his child are giving a party, a Christmas party."
"Oh, " Eric laughed. "Well then you must go. They cannot have Christmas without Black Peter!"
"Without whom?" Santino licked at the vein pulsing in Eric's neck.
"Mmmmmm . . . Black Peter, you know, he accompanies Sinter Klaus?"
"No, I do not know." Santino ran his fangs over the vein, not quite breaking the skin.
"Oooooooooh . . .um . . .he punishes the bad children. He beats them with a stick and then puts them in his bag and carries them off to Spain."
Santino momentarily pulled away from Eric's neck. "Spain?"
"Yes," Eric laughed, "I guess the Dutch weren't very impressed with Spaniards when they made that part up."
"I believe that I have a far more effective way of punishing the bad children." Santino plunged his fangs into Eric's neck.
Eric arched his back and gave a sustained scream of pleasure. Santino pulled and pulled upon his lover until Eric was nearly dry and his screams had faded to whispers. Then, slowly, deliberately, he bit his own tongue, and drop by drop fed Eric his blood. Eric's body jerked slightly as each droplet slid into his moth, as if the blood was electric. Finally, he was strong enough to claw a handful of Santino's hair into his fist and pull him closer, close enough for Eric to pierce the younger vampire's jugular and fill his mouth with liquid ecstasy. He then drained Santino, drinking and drinking until he could hear the heart shuddering and then, biting his finger, he teased his lover back to life.
Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms a long time. Finally Eric spoke, "When we go to new Orleans . . ."
"Si?" Eric asked.
"We mustn't forget the mistletoe."
"Ah, that reminds me. She wanted you to contact her bodyslave."
"Mael isn't her bodyslave, Santino." Eric sighed, not wanting to renew the old argument. "I don't know if he is in any shape to travel."
"He is far older than Armand."
"Yes, but Armand was made by Marius, who had drunk the blood of Akasha."
"Then don't call him, you know that it matters not to me." Santino laid his head on Eric's chest and enjoyed the sound of his heartbeat.
Eric ignored Santino and reached out mentally for his friend. ~Mael? Are you there?~
~I am.~
Eric could feel the weariness and the ache in the simple answer. ~It is good to hear you again, my friend.~
~I am grateful for the sentiment.~
~If you are well enough, the coven is gathering in New Orleans, December 24th.~
~New Orleans? Lestat's territory?~
~He hardly claims it as his territory, Mael, but it is at his behest.~
~I see.~
~Will you come?~
~Perhaps.~
Eric nodded as he broke the connection.
"You reached him?" Santino asked in a bored voice.
"Yes." Eric playfully pulled Santino's thick chest hair.
"Where was he?"
Eric wasn't sure if he should answer. He was quiet.
"Where was he?" Santino repeated.
"He's . . .inatree." Eric mumbled
"What, Tresoro?"
"A TREE, I said he is in a tree!"
Santino didn't laugh, in fact neither his face nor his voice betrayed a hint of humor when he said, "I hope you asked him to bring the mistletoe."
Louis stood at the kitchen window of the townhouse looking out at the solemn cherub in his courtyard garden. He sat composed in his thick white sweater and brown corduroy trousers, like a mannequin in an upscale department store, the kind Lestat would frequent. The large brown eyes stared at nothing and everything. The only movement was from the night breeze catching his wild auburn curls.
Armand. Amadeo. Andrei. Who was this puzzling immortal, and why was he fated to such deep and constant pain?
Louis had been drawn to him 200 years before. From their first meeting, Armand had mesmerized him. They had professed their love to one another, become companions and traveled together for decades. Then, long after they'd parted, Louis had read of Armand's past in Lestat's autobiography. Soon after, they met again in Sonoma, during that unbearable time when Lestat had been taken. They hadn't spoken beyond a very few words of courtesy, but once it had ended, in that final terrible murder and consummation, Louis had awoken from the nightmare to find himself in Armand's strong embrace. Those very eyes looking down at him, that voice calling his name.
In Armand's other arm, Daniel, the innocent reporter whom Louis had unwittingly seduced into this Dark Life, just as surely as if it had been his own blood which had changed Daniel from a wide-eyed boy to a white skinned monster. Louis was sorry to see that Daniel had been admitted to the ranks of the undead, not only out of principle, but because he himself had tasted Daniel's mortal blood. Through that blood Louis had learned everything about Daniel, and liked Daniel very much, too much to see him thus changed without feeling pain for the boy he had been.
Yet, it had been done, and there was no undoing of the Dark Trick. In that light, Louis appreciated that Daniel was good for Armand. Armand needed one like Daniel who could not only follow, but also lead; who would be compliant and eager to please but not without voicing his own demands and refusals. Armand didn't fear Daniel, but he also could not completely control him. In Daniel Armand had met his match in both neediness and stubbornness. Of course Armand hadn't been able to let Daniel slip away into mortal death, of course he'd had to keep Daniel with him forever.
But even so, Daniel and Armand had parted. Louis had read the book which Armand had dictated to David. In it Armand stated that:
"Daniel . . .can no more stand my company than I can stand his. . . .he cannot contend with my continuous company any more than I can contend with his.
I turned Daniel from a morbid romantic to a true killer. I made real in his natural blood cells the horror that he so fancied he understood in mine. I pushed his face into the flesh of the first young innocent he had to slaughter for his inevitable thirst , and thereby fell off the pedestal on which he'd placed me in his demented, overimaginative, feverishly poetical and ever exuberant mortal mind.
But I had others around me when I lost Daniel, or rather, when in gaining Daniel as a fledgling, I'd lost him as a mortal lover and gradually began to let him go."
And when Louis first read that he had flung the book across the room in anger and disgust! How DARE he say such a thing! What a complete and utter lie!
"Five paragraphs!" Louis had railed at an unsuspecting David, who had the misfortune of being in the same room at the time. "He mentions his ONLY fledgling in merely FIVE paragraphs of his entire tome, and he has the audacious malice to say such a thing as this!"
Poor David made a quick and unannounced exit as Louis snatched up the nearest telephone and dialed Armand's current number. In the end, he hadn't been able to do more than leave a scathing voice-mail denouncing Armand for his cruelty. Louis wasn't certain if Armand had ever received it. He hadn't mentioned it, and Louis wasn't about to ask. He was quite ashamed of his behavior now.
At the time, he'd been perhaps projecting his own experience of reading his maker's memoir, The Vampire Lestat and finding that he himself was only mentioned on eight pages, this of course was the first edition, before the revision after the concert. He'd felt pain at that, at so scant a mention, and Daniel's appearance in The Vampire Armand was briefer still! How hurtful that must be for Daniel, who no doubt read the book the instant he saw it. And he, Louis, deserved the pain, as he has slandered Lestat in his own story first, mentioning him often, yes, but almost always with bitterness and rancor. Daniel did not deserve this, how could Armand be so cold?
But now Louis could see how similar in fact, were his and Armand's actions in telling their stories. Hadn't he found Lestat to be so much less magical when he was newly dead? Hadn't he told Daniel how irritating, boring and tasteless Lestat was? What was wrong with him then? And hadn't Lestat experienced the same disillusionment, the same disappointment with Louis? He certainly had been insulting and impatient with Louis, that had not been exaggeration. He had been constantly demanding that Louis do this, or forbidding Louis to do that, making threats, intimidating him. Odd the similarity of behavior and timing between he and Lestat and Armand and Daniel.
'Perhaps it is a stage each maker and fledgling goes through,' Louis pondered. 'Post-partum depression? It is certainly possible. There is no doubt but that the Dark Gift brought forth physical and chemical changes in the fledgling, did it also do so in the maker? But of course, it must! Why else would the telepathic link be broken? Telepathy is certainly a mental process, as are emotions, so therefore a mood disorder would be very likely to occur. This is exactly like that article I was just reading yesterday. Now where did I put that magazine? Was it the Philosophist's Journal or Psychology Today? Perhaps it was that Touro Medical Center publication.' Louis had moved into the study and was searching through a pile of magazines on his desk when he remembered Armand.
He immediately went to the courtyard and called to his friend, "Armand?"
Part 2
Armand had been thinking of his young ones, his Benjy and his Sybelle. This would be their first Christmas as independently wealthy immortal bloodsuckers. How he longed to spend it with them, but each night the tragedy of their young lives cut short dragged him more and more deeply into despair.
Fragile Sybelle had been engulfed by her love of the Appassionata, one could have said she was obsessed as a mortal, but now there was no doubt. She had ordered pianos of every shape and size. There were now seven in the massive building Armand had been forced to purchase in the heart of Manhattan, and more on the way, no doubt. She played the Appassionata on each piano successively all night, every night and they had been evicted from apartment complexes and even neighborhoods, until finally Armand purchased a lavish hotel, the size of one city block and ten stories high, had the entire building thoroughly soundproofed, and then moved them in. No complaints so far.
Sybelle no longer had to bathe or change her clothes, and so there was no reason for her to leave her piano. She left home only to feed, which she and Benjy both did early every night, as soon as possible upon waking, in fact. Sybelle fed voraciously, with no regard for her victim. She didn't have the interest to wait for those who wanted to die, so Armand called one for her. As soon as she saw the victim she grabbed the living flesh, sunk her teeth into the nearest artery without preamble, and sucked the mortal dry within seconds. She could not be made to dispose of the body, and set up unearthly wailing sobs if Armand tried to force her to do so. So, that chore fell to him and Benjy, while she returned to her pianos.
Benjy, however, never returned after the first kill of the night. That one was only to sate his appetite enough so that he could be among mortals, and it gave him the rosy glow of life so that he did not look too out of place. The rest of his night was spent in flirting with his potential victims, playing with them. Benjy had no specific preference between men and women, but they must be rich and powerful. This was dangerous and called too much undue attention, which Armand had explained to the young boy again and again, but Benjamin had an argument for all of his reasons.
"Who cares if they know, Armand, what can they do to me?" He would laugh, his brown eyes dancing in amusement, "Don't you see, Dybbuk, I WANT them to know! I want them to see that there is something out there much stronger than they, and that all of their money and their power cannot protect them! I want it to be the topic of conversation in their underworld meetings and at their charity balls!"
Benjy had already acquired a human slave. He was a wealthy young lawyer on the payroll of a major crime syndicate, and he was completely enthralled by exotic little Benjy. He wanted to spend every night with Benjy, and benjy loved to refuse him, so that the pathetic mortal would beg and plead and ply with gifts; solid gold watches, paper roses folded from 100 dollar bills and fine cheroots. Why had Armand once again been attracted to a child who smoked? Ah well, no matter. It saddened Armand to see how they reacted to their new vampiric lives. If only they'd had time to grow and mature, if only Marius had let them be. They still loved him, yes, and he still loved them, but it wasn't enough. Armand had had dreams for them, for Sybelle's future as a concert pianist, for Benjy's education and eventual profession. He still couldn't break free of envisioning them as adults, moving in the daylight world with the ease and grace of those who had all they wanted, and to whom every door was open.
But it was never to be, Sybelle would never be a full and beautiful woman, who might be an inspiration to musicians everywhere, young and old. She was stuck as a young girl, a sylph, without influence or strength. Benjamin would never be a charming and handsome man, moving in the circles of the rich and powerful as an envied peer and a respected equal. He was stunted as a precocious child, with a child's voice, manner and bearing, and would never bee seen as anything but a gifted and intelligent scamp, playing grown-up. How soon would this realization settle on them? What would they do then? If only Marius had more patience!
But of course, he never had, had he? He'd made Pandora soon after meeting up with her in Antioch. He'd given Armand, his Amadeo, a taste of his blood long before Armand had any idea of what it may lead to. Marius, whom everyone saw as a paragon of reason and patience, was in fact most reckless and impatient. How could he have left Lestat alone in the house with Those Who Must Be Kept? He KNEW Lestat, and knew that the brat would be unable to resist the temptation! He hadn't even been able to stop himself from feeding on the simple mortal who'd agreed to record Lestat's videos for him. He had no self-control, it was only that Marius, with his mortal maturity and infusions of the oldest blood, was almost always able to cover his mistakes. And Marius was always attracted to the beauty of children. Not a predator, no never, but he enjoyed their company, their look and their presence; 10 year old Lydia, his Chaldean boy-child slaves, all of the Venetian boys, Amadeo himself, Sybelle, Benjy. In his mortal household, he'd been the tallest being half Celtic, and probably the brightest, but he'd loved his smaller Roman brothers and sisters, possibly even loved teaching them and helping to care for them in a brotherly way, the way he'd cared for Akasha and Enkil later. Was it his early mortal years, when he was spoiled and beloved, that he was constantly, even now, trying to recreate?
Perhaps Marius would also answer Louis and Lestat's invitation, as he had, and then he might be able to ask his maker such a question, if he had the audacity. He mentally checked on his young ones, they were well and safe. It was due to this telepathic connection, for which he had Marius to thank, that he was able to overcome his qualms about leaving them. He wished he still had that contact with his Daniel, his first-born, who he sorely missed. Perhaps Daniel might come as well, and he could see him once more. If only they could come together once again.
"Armand?"
Ah, the familiar comfort of that soft voice.
"Yes, caro?" Armand turned to see the beautific face of Louis.
"Are you well?"
A silly question, but polite. Louis didn't sit, though it was his own garden, because Armand hadn't invited him to, such were his manners. "Why do you ask?"
"You seemed a bit preoccupied."
"Did I?"
"Well, yes, I wondered if perhaps you'd like to come inside, or if you wanted something?"
"What could I possibly want, Louis? A brandy? A small sandwich? A nice walk in the sun?" Armand was being nasty without wanting too. He was hurting Louis and he didn't know why.
Louis absorbed the barbs without comment and returned to the house.
Armand watched Louis go, regretting his actions, but unable to make the effort at apologizing. Instead he lapsed back into his thoughts.
Louis felt himself swept up by an unstoppable force as he stepped from the kitchen into the parlour.
"Louis, Cheri! Mon Amour! Joyeaux Noël!"
Kisses fell all over his face and neck, he was swung in circles and couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up out of him. "Lestat!"
"You must see what I've bought!" Lestat sang out, settling Louis back down on his feet.
"Heaven save me." Louis commented as Lestat took his hand and led him to the front hall.
There on the floor were bags and boxes of every size and shape. Spilling out of the packages was an explosion of shiny, sparkly plastic color; tinsel, foil garland, snowflakes, bright ribbons, giant candy canes, flashy reindeer, elves, snowmen, and every other commercialized Christmas symbol that could be punched out of a plastic mold.
Louis was speechless. "Oh," he finally said faintly, looking at all of the merchandise. "Oh, Lestat." And then he murmured, "Mon Dieu."
Lestat doubled up and fell over with mirth at the expression on Louis's face. He rolled on the floor, wrapping himself in red and silver garlands. Gasping for breath, he held his hand out to Louis to be helped up. Knowing the trick, Louis folded his arms and shook his head at Lestat. So Lestat was forced to pull Louis's legs out from under him, catching him as he fell to the floor. Before Louis could protest, Lestat wrapped a shiny green garland around his neck.
"Goes so well with your eyes, mon beau." Lestat said in a low voice.
Louis surprised Lestat by wrapping his arms and legs around his blond maker and putting his lips to Lestat's ear. "Tu es mon joli diable."
Lestat snuggled even closer to his fledgling and kissed his mouth, "Precious darling."
Louis tickled Lestat's jugular vein with the tips of his fangs, "Tomcat," he whispered the endearment so softly that it was only audible to Lestat's acute vampiric hearing.
A shock of lust went through Lestat at the sound of that private name, he thrust his tongue into Louis's mouth. Louis accepted it and greedily sucked it deeper in. They remained entangled in the kiss for several long minutes. They finally separated with a groan, when they needed air.
"Now Lis-Lis, I know that we agreed to decorate together, and we WILL, but this was SHOPPING! And you know how you hate shopping." Lestat brushed his lips against Louis's.
"But Statchat, this is so crass," Louis answered, but the words held no anger, only amused resignation.
"Non, Lis, non, non, non, c'est magnifique! You shall make it so! Just wrap it all around your oranges and pine boughs and it will be tastefully stunning, just as you want it, believe me!" Lestat sat up and pulled a box of lights out of a nearby bag. "Don't tell me you don't love theeeeeeese!" He pulled a strand out and waved it in Louis's face.
Louis's emerald eyes widened in delight. One would think that they were ordinary Christmas lights until one got close enough to see the shape and the small cross embossed on one side. They were tiny coffins of clear plastic which glowed brightly in all colors when lit. Just the thing for a subtle and discreet practical joke, of the kind which Louis was famous.
"They'll be perfect for the wreath over the mantle!" Louis said, examining the lights.
"You see, you devious little imp! I knew you'd love them!"
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"May I enter?" Khayman called out.
"Silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city," Daniel sang along with the piped in music as he and Marius waited for their luggage at the New Orleans Airport carousel. He jabbed Marius, "Sing!"
Marius grinned and shook his head. "No, I have trouble controlling the volume of my voice when I sing."
"Ah," Daniel frowned, "no self control, I should have known," then continued his singing. "City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style, in the air there's a feeling of Christmas."
Marius grabbed their bags as they appeared, and handed Daniel his. "Shall we find a taxi cab?"
"Hear the snow crush, see the kids rush, this is Santa's big day," Daniel nodded. They turned and walked to the terminal exit.
There, as always, was a line of cabs, limos and handicapped vans, waiting for their next passengers. Marius hailed one with a big red crawfish on the side and at least 25 strands of red and green Mardi Gras beads hanging from the rear view mirror. Marius wondered how it stayed attached to the windshield.
"Well, Nepote, would you like to stay at the town house or the orphanage?" Marius asked.
"Actually, Grandad, I think I'll hole up at the Dauphine Orleans instead," Daniel said nonchalantly, knowing that Marius wasn't going to like hearing it.
"Daniel! Don't you think that's a bit rude?"
"Four fifteen Dumaine, it's between St. Louis and Conti," Daniel said, handing the driver a fifty dollar bill.
"Yes sir!" She said, taking the money and pulling out into the stream of traffic leaving the airport.
"Daniel, they'll be expecting us, I already contacted Lestat."
"Look, you can do whatever you want, Marius, but I have some business that I need to attend to in private, before I dive into "Christmas Eve with the Bloodsucking Bickersons", all right?"
"Why must you always expect the worst of the Coven, Nepote?"
"Experience is a good teacher. I can tell you exactly what is going to happen. Everybody will be all smiles and kisses for about an hour, then Louis and Lestat will get into a little tiff, and everyone will be all up in arms over that, as if it isn't an everyday occurrence. Then everyone will separate off into their little groups. David will be trying to interrogate everyone, Louis will be trying to play the good host, making sure that everyone is comfortable, which is impossible. Jesse and Eric will start singing showtunes, and Santino will get jealous and take it out on Mael, if he is even there, or Lestat if he isn't or possibly Armand, who will be so involved with his little toy fledglings that he won't even notice. That is until Gabrielle starts in on him which will set off a whole other argument, and then YOU'LL get into the middle of that and try to calm everyone down, but in the process of doing that you and Pandora will end up in a knock-down drag-out and Khayman will finally have to step in and slap everybody around, mentally, if not physically, then Maharet will send us all to bed. And that is only assuming that everyone has the intelligence to keep their fangs out of anyone else's lover. Ya wanna hear round two?"
"Daniel, you're exaggerating and you're wrong." Marius stated. " . . .I am sure that Pandora and I will be fighting long before Jesse and Eric launch into the score of 'Gypsy'."
Daniel didn't laugh, which was a terribly bad sign.
"It's Armand, isn't it?" Marius asked quietly.
That earned him a violet glare which would freeze the blood of an ordinary mortal. It gave even Marius a bit of a chill. Daniel then pointedly turned to stare out the window, until they arrived at his hotel.
Daniel got out of the car and followed the driver to the trunk where the luggage was stored. After a few moments, Marius joined them as well.
"I think I'll stay as well, if you don't mind." Marius said to Daniel, politely. Daniel ignored him, gave the driver another fifty and walked into the Dauphine Orleans.
The night staff was upon them immediately, taking their bags and ushering them to the front desk.
"How many I help you?" asked the pretty little receptionist with the large blue eyes. He had just a trace of the distinctive New Orleans accent.
Daniel smiled at him. "Hi, I reserved the cottage suite."
The receptionist tapped a few keys on his computer. "Name sir?"
"Slater." Daniel reached for his wallet and took out a credit card.
"First name Chris?"
"That's me," Daniel handed him the card.
"Will the gentleman be staying as well?" Blue-eyes asked, looking at Marius.
Daniel turned and looked at him as well, his face was blank.
"Yes," Marius said, "I will."
The receptionist looked back at Daniel who gave a short nod. At that the card was run through and the keys handed over. "Enjoy your stay, gentlemen."
The porter led them to the cottage and left their luggage in the large room. Marius tipped him twenty dollars and sent him on his way.
"'Scuse me, Marius, I have some calls to make." With that Daniel shut himself into the master bedroom. Marius sighed and went out to feed.
Part 3
In a large Victorian house, in a little town on the west coast, the telephone rang. "Mike Molloy."
"Merry Christmas Dad!"
"DAN?!" Mike Molloy propped his cane against the steps and sat in his easy chair. "Christ on a cross, son, you said you'd call three hours ago! You alright?"
"Yeah, Dad, I'm sorry, something happened and I couldn't get the call through."
"What happened?"
"Oh, it was nothing . .just . .a . .thing . .you know."
"You sick again, Dan?"
"No, Dad, nothing like that. Hey, did the presents get to you okay?"
"Oh yeah, they got here fine. Your brother is going to have a heart attack when he sees the title to that boat!"
"Make sure Tricia's got the camera ready, okay?"
"She will, Dan, she will."
"Good, 'cause I wanna see that!" Daniel laughed.
"I'll send 'em as soon as they're developed. You gotta see Jim, you won't recognize him."
"Jim? Now what's he done?"
"You sittin' down?"
Daniel laughed.
"Okay . . .he quit drinkin."
"Oh my God!"
"AND smokin'."
"Are you sure it's Jim?"
"Cut his hair, shaved off his beard and got RELIGION! He's a DEACON over at Saint Steve's!"
"Oh, Dad," Daniel said sorrowfully. "How're you holdin' up?"
"Not good, Dan, not good. It's a father's shame, I tell ya. Deacon Molloy . . .makes ya wanna puke, doesn't it?"
"You got that right."
"Those poor kids, they come over to Grandad's now just to get away from all the prayin'. Your sainted mother, God rest her soul, would turn over in her grave if she knew her own grandkids couldn't sneak a sip of beer in their own house!"
"That's a shame. How's my little Goddaughter?"
"Not little anymore, she's pregnant."
"Excuse me?!"
"Pregnant, Dan, you know, got one in the oven."
"They let that BOY touch her?!!!"
"Now, now Dan, she ain't your little princess no more, she's twenty-eight years old, and she's been married for five years."
"THEY LET THAT BOY TOUCH HER???!!!!!"
Mike laughed. "It happens, Danny, it happens. Guess what they're gonna name it if it's a boy."
"A shot in the dark here, I'll say Michael."
"Nope."
"No? Hmm, Patrick? After Grandad O'Connor?"
"Uh uh. Daniel, after you. Danielle if it's a girl."
Daniel's eyes filled with tears, his voice caught in his throat.
"Dan? Dan, you there?"
"Yeah."
"Kinda chokes ya up, huh."
"Yeah."
"We miss ya, Spike, we really do."
"I miss you guys too, Dad, believe me, I do."
"I know, son, I know. Listen, I'm going to be up at Brian's over the New Year, they finally got that house built. I'll give you his number . . .if I can find it."
"Don't worry about it Dad, just put your phone on call forwarding when you find it, and when I call you it'll ring there."
"Dan, you know I don't mess with all that new fangled stuff."
"Da-ad, it isn't 'new fangled' you've had it for four years!"
"Well, I never used it. I don't know how."
"All you have to do is read the instructions, Dad, you can learn how to use it, it's not that hard."
"You listen to me, Daniel Sean, I am eighty-two years old and anything I haven't learned yet, I don't need, got me?"
Daniel sighed, "Okay, Dad, okay, don't get all mad."
"I'm not mad, I'm just tellin' ya."
"You're gettin' yer Irish up, is what you're doing."
"Since when do you back talk your father?" Mike asked in an overly shocked voice.
"Since I'm too far away for you to catch me." Daniel laughed.
"Oh boy, that pretty nurse you hired is here."
"On Christmas Eve?"
"Probably wants to see if I've been good or bad."
"Probably needs the holiday pay."
"Maybe, maybe, but I still get to flirt with her, so it's all the same to me."
"You dog! Mom's gonna give you hell when you get to heaven."
"Yep, that's why I gotta get while the gettin's good, Spike."
"I better let you go then."
"Call me again soon."
"I will Dad."
"I love you, Dan."
"I love you too, Dad. Bye."
"Good-bye now."
Daniel replaced the telephone in it's cradle and let the tears course down his cheeks. The charade was so wearing, but he just couldn't let his mortal family go. He knew he would have to. He even tried a few times. He tried just sending money and presents, but having no communication. He tried blocking them out of his mind. But it only worked for a year or so. They were always there, in the back of his mind. He wondered how they were, what they were doing, if they needed anything. He knew they were worried. He hated himself for causing them pain. Louis had helped him to set up a plan to fake his own death, but he couldn't go through with it. He needed his family, and he didn't know how he could ever let them go.
To Be Continued . . .