Ruling Rue Royale
© Dark Angel
rueroyale@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Vampchron to MtD
30 septembre 1999
Status: Complete
Disclaimer: This work is SPECulative fiction which uses characters created by the author of the Vampire Chronicles and then, inevitably, captured by the character slavery ring controlled by Knopf and pimped out to Geffen and Warner. No infringment upon their rights is intended. I also wish to mention Random House and Ballantine Books, parents of the latest 300 pound alien baby reincarnation of Elvis. Gracie.
Insult nor injury is meant to Stan Rice, Chris Rice, Michele Rice (RIP), Mojo Rice (RIP), Sunny Rice (RIP), Mikey Rice, or any other Rice-related personages. Anyone holding any legal or moral right to the Vampire Chronicles, The MayFair Witches Series, or The Feast Of All Saints. No disrespect is meant to SOME CRAZY BITCH WHO SUES HER FANS, nor her family by the depictions of them as characters in this work. The depictions of Bultman Funeral Home, Jacob Schoen and Son Funeral Home, P.J. McMahon and Sons Funeral Home, Leitz-Egan Funeral Home, Lake Lawn Metairie Funeral Home or any of their workers or directors are not to be taken literally and not meant to violate their rights.
No offense meant to The New Orleans Saints Football Organization, their families, friends, lawyers or underworld business associates. This work also mentions the characters of Frank’s Place and the films, Mrs. Miniver, Penny Serenade and Arsenic and Old Lace, which is punishable by death in some countries.
Author's Notes: The dialogue of the character, Josephine, is meant to be an approximation of the pidgeon Creole French that would have been spoken by slaves in Louisiana at that time, translated into English. The inconsistancies in grammar are intended. No racial slur is meant by the dialect of this character.
Warnings: Taking of the Lords name in vain. VM/VM sensual situations and tongues and stuff. MV/MV/MV SEX!!! If you do NOT want to read about SEX between same-SEX vampires, don't SEX read SEX this SEXSEXSEXSEX!
Dedication: To My Darling, Father of Lies. You have my first loyalty, and all of my soul. He shall be her swordpoint, and she shall be his shield. I love you. Thanks to Deb P., who by her decency and concern, for restored my faith. Thanks also to La Femme, who asked so sweetly! And also to Stumbleine, DarkStar, Serenity, Buni, La Femme, Artemisia, Ebony, Vega Blake, Kabuki, Anastasia Illusia, Monique Michelle and Wendy , who were such darlings to comment that I didn't want to lead them on unnecessarily.
Chapter One
They landed in the courtyard of the town house.
"Home, sweet home," Lestat said, releasing Louis.
"Wherever I hang my hat's my home," David replied.
"Home is where the heart is," Louis observed.
"My home is your home." Lestat opened the door and ushered them in.
"There's no place like home," David quoted.
"But you can't go home again." Louis whispered, under his breath, as Lestat closed the door behind him.
"Home, home on the range . . ." sang out a familiar voice.
"You know you ain't home if dey's makin' you wear shoes," said another, in a fake Cajun accent.
"BARK, bark, BARK, bark, bark, bark, BARK! BARK! Pant, pant, bark!" said a third.
"Anne!" David was stunned.
"Stan!" Louis smiled delightedly.
"MOJO!!!" Lestat ran towards him, sliding into the parlour and dropping to the floor to snuggle with the dog.
"Oh my God," Anne breathed, seeing David for the first time.
"Oh My God!" Stan commented, upon seeing Lestat's new skin tone, as he slid by him.
"OH MY GOD!" Anne and Stan exclaimed upon seeing Louis enter the parlour.
"Please tell me that's bronzer," Stan said to Louis.
"When I said get some sun, it was a JOKE!" Anne touched Louis's cheek.
"Well, I had a bit of an accident." Louis explained, smiling.
"Sweet Jesus, are you hurt?" Anne pulled him close to her.
"I am healed." He answered her. He backed gently out of her embrace. To cut off any further inquiries he said, "but please allow me to introduce you to David Talbot."
"How do you do." David said politely, bowing his head slightly.
"This is Anne Rice, our author and book jacket model." Louis grinned at her.
"Hello." Anne said with a warm smile, taking David's hand in hers.
"And Stan Rice, the poet and the painter," Louis continued.
"I prefer to be called 'Mr. Anne Rice'," Stan said, shaking David's hand.
"I t is a pleasure to meet you." David laughed.
"And now that you have met them, they can tell us what they are doing in my house," Lestat said walking to them with Mojo on his heels.
"Nice to see you two, Lestat." Stan said. Lestat punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Ma belle cherie amour," Lestat said, taking Anne in his arms and kissing her. "Have you missed me?"
"Of course, Lestat, always," Anne answered. "Now, do you want to tell me what this Gobi desert business was all about?"
"No," Lestat said pleasantly, smiling. "Let's all sit down, shall we?"
They arranged themselves on the couches in the front parlour.
"We're here because our house is full of left-over O'Briens from Mardi Gras," Stan explained. "We went out to walk Mojo, and thought we might duck in here for a little peace and quiet."
"So much for that plan." Lestat laughed.
Mojo put his front paws in Louis's lap and barked happily, his tail wagging.
"Yes, I made it back on my own, and you needn't act so surprised." Louis said to him. Mojo got down and put his head in Louis's lap instead. Louis petted him. "David, this is Mojo, I believe you missed the introductions before we left. Mojo, meet David."
David held his hand to Mojo's nose. Mojo sniffed him and licked his hand.
"He likes you." Lestat said.
"What were you doing out walking him after midnight?" Louis asked.
"Oh, no, no, we came over around four," Anne clarified.
"Ah, I see," Louis nodded.
"So, how was Rio?" Stan asked.
"It was an experience," Louis answered.
"It must have been, I don't think I have ever seen you in such touristy attire, Louis." Anne laughed, indicating his sweat suit, emblazoned with Caesar Park Hotel logos.
"You should see what he has on under that," Lestat said enticingly.
"LESTAT!" Louis blushed. "Please, let's not talk about clothes."
"T-shirt and shorts," Lestat informed them.
"Shorts? Louis! Alright!" Stan teased him.
Louis put his face in his hands, "It is a long unpleasant tale."
"Which you will be writing very soon." Lestat patted Anne's shoulder.
"Really? I'll clear my schedule," Anne grinned. "David, I wonder if you would mind a little interview, I'd like to know more about you."
"Not at all, so long as I am allowed to ask questions as well," David answered.
"Still the scholar," Anne smiled. "It's a deal. Tomorrow night?"
"I'll look forward to it," David said.
"Thank you." Anne stood, as did Louis, and then David. "We should hit the road, Stan."
"Yeah, we are getting rid of three of them on the eight a.m. flight tomorrow."
"I could get of even more for you," Lestat said, licking his lips.
"Yeah? Well let's discuss terms, because there are about seven -"
"Hey! Hey! Hey! That is enough, both of you," Anne interrupted her husband. She hugged David. "Welcome to New Orleans."
"Thank you," David smiled.
Anne hugged Louis and kissed him. "You take care of yourself, now. I want to hear all about this, soon." She tapped the tip of his sun darkened nose.
"It will all be in Lestat's book, I am sure," Louis answered.
"Yes, but I want your version as well," she told him.
"Then I shall abide by your wishes," Louis sighed.
"David, it'll be an adventure," Stan said, slapping his back.David grinned, "I am sure. It was good meeting you."
"Louis," Stan hugged him hard. "We'll talk later."
Louis nodded.
"Lestat," Stan put his hand out, Lestat took it and pulled him into a hug. "It's good to have you back."
"It is good to be back," Lestat said. "But you two do not expect to be walking home alone, do you?"
Anne hugged him, and kissed his mouth. "We're not kids, Lestat."
"Non, Lestat is right. New Orleans can be a dangerous place, I understand," Louis grinned. "I'll accompany you."
"No, Louis, I'll accompany them. Look at the sky. It is about time for you to be in bed, young man," Lestat told him authoritatively.
Louis's eyes narrowed slightly. "Lestat, don't treat -"
Let's go! Good bye! Good bye! Come on!" Lestat said drowning out Louis as he gathered up Anne and Stan and swept them out the door. Mojo followed barking. Louis and David looked at each other and shook their heads, laughing quietly.
"I hate to admit it, but Lestat is right. I must be going to my room." Louis locked the door.
"I shall as well, soon," David answered. "Louis?"
"Yes, David?"
"I think I should like to obtain a coffin."
"Hmmm, I can take you to the funeral homes tomorrow night if you wish to browse."
"Yes, I should think that would be advisable. Is it still possible to have one made?"
"Anything is possible, providing one has the funds, which we do."
"Very well, then. Do you have a coffin, Louis?"
"Yes, I do have one hidden, for safety's sake."
"How old is it?"
"I've had it almost fifty years, I think."
"How long do they usually last?"
"It all depends. Weather, location, materials, craftsmanship, the number of times it is transported or shipped, all these things are factors, of course."
"What kind of shape is yours in?"
"It is still secure."
"When will you need another?"
Louis smiled. "I don't really think about it, David."
"I think you should purchase one as well. Fifty years is a long time."
"David, I don't use it when I stay here."
"Nevertheless, when you do need it again, you don't want to find that it has crumbled in your absence."
"If so, then I should go into the earth for that day and obtain another one the next night."
"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure."
"David, I know you feel responsible for my present tan, but you are becoming obsessed with my safety. I assure you, I know what I am doing." Louis put his hand on David's shoulder, smiling with amusement.
"It would comfort me greatly if you would at least consider purchasing one." David 's brow furrowed in worry.
"You win, David, I'll look." Louis kissed David's cheek, "Bonne nuit."
David returned the kiss and smiled. "Good night, Louis."
Louis turned and ascended the stairs, David smiled after him.
A few minutes later, Lestat and Mojo returned. Lestat set a giant bag of dog food down in the foyer. Mojo raced into the parlour and jumped on a couch. It occurred to David that a shedding Alsatian with filthy paws did not quite fit on an expensive reproduction 18th century cream silk couch.
"Will you be keeping the dog here?" David asked, keeping his voice neutral.
"Of course. Don't tell me you don't like dogs, David, I know that you do."
"It isn't that, Lestat. But it seems that after all of the renovations you've had done, a dog may be a bit, shall we say, detrimental to the decor."
"David don't be prejudiced. Mojo hasn't done a thing to warrant such suspicion. And even if he had, Louis burned the place down once, and I am letting him stay."
David laughed, "Oh yes, that clears things up."
"Puts them in perspective, anyway," Lestat grinned.
"I believe I'll be going to bed, then," David said.
"Sleep well." Lestat followed David up the stairs. As David turned to go to his room, Lestat stopped him. "David."
"Yes?"
Lestat kissed him. "Welcome Home."
David sank into Lestat's arms. "Thank you."
And they each went to their own rooms and waited for the sun.
Lestat awoke to a clear black sky. He showered, changed and went downstairs. Time to take a thorough inventory of the renovation. The woodwork was magnificent, golden and warm. Almost all of the furniture was similar to the pieces he had owned in the 1800s. And what wasn't, was at least period. Even the cabinets that the television, VCR and sound systems were in looked period. Enormous hulking highboys with the doors closed, a media bonanza with the doors open. Lestat made a note to send the decorator a nice bonus for that. The telephones were all hidden away in similar disguises. The one in the front parlour had been built into a beautiful enameled box, just raise the lid, and there is your receiver. Lovely!
He continued into the kitchen, where Mojo was fast asleep on the floor. The stove, sinks and faucets all were of the oldest design, yet shiny and new. This was what Lestat had wanted. No "antiquing" no "aged look" of things about the place. No "charming knotholes" in the woodwork, nor "nice patina" on the silver, gold or brass. Everything looked clean, new, and functional, even the 200 year old mirror frame that had been through the fire. He'd had trouble with the first decorator on this. The woman had found for him a silver candelabra, 1800s, French.
"Great!" he'd said, looking at the greyish metal. "Have it cleaned and polished."
"Oh no, you can't do that!" she'd exclaimed. "You'll lose all the value!"
"It is worth more dirty than clean? I'll take the loss, I won't have my house looking like a junk shop."
Well, she'd refused, and so she was replaced. Finally he had found someone who had an ounce of aesthetic sense, and didn't have dollar signs clouding her vision. Lestat went to the sink and turned on the tap. Water flowed in a clear stream. They had replaced all the pipes, good. He filled a bowl for Mojo, then walked through the back parlour. He had seen quite a bit of this, when he had first returned. It was delightfully complete. Louis had even found a quill pen to stand on his desk. Did they still make quill pens? And there was the pen knife beside it, for sharpening, and ink in the little glass inkwell. Amazing!
Lestat continued on to his office, he thought he might check his e-mail, and see how many empty disks he had, so that he could start on his book. There was a sign on the door.
You Are Now Entering The Twentieth Century.
Please Scrape Boots At Door.
Louis's handwriting, of course. Lestat laughed and opened the door. He went to his computer and sat down. He reached to hit the power button.
'This isn't my computer,.' Lestat thought. 'This isn't even my chair!'
He got up and looked around the room. 'This isn't my office! What the hell?'
There on the other side of his desk sat his computer, hidden by the newer computer's huge monitor. His old chair was nowhere to be found, but as he sat down, he felt the new one was much more comfortable, anyway. He saw a new phone to his left. 'Four lines?! Voice mail! New answering machine! A FAX! I know I did not order any of this. Yes, Lestat, there is a Santa Claus?' He turned in his chair. 'A collating copier?? Well, I guess I'll find some use for it.'Lestat activated the new computer. He was happily setting controls and installing extra software When David found him.
"New computer, Lestat?"
"Yes, actually, brand new. I am not even sure where it came from." Lestat stood and gave David a quick buss on the cheek.
"Secret admirer?" David offered.
"Perhaps so." Lestat laughed.
There was a knock at the door. "That will be for you," Lestat said. "It's Anne."
Chapter Two
Anne waited patiently for someone to open the door. She had a key of course, but now that the residents were in residence, she didn't think it was quite polite to come busting in on them. There was also the possibility that she would come upon some activity which she would rather not see. She wondered if she had waited long enough. Louis would never be awake, but surely Lestat must be. She heard footsteps.
"Good evening." David smiled as he opened the door for her. "I am sorry about the delay. I was at the other end of the house watching Lestat play with the new toys in his office."
"Oh he's found the office? Good! Louis was worried about his reaction, afraid it wouldn't be quite right.""Louis?" David asked, closing the door behind her.
"Yes, he decided to surprise Lestat. So he updated the office. He thought that would be the most helpful thing he could work on. He'll be glad it's a hit." She followed David through the house and back to Lestat's office."Bonsoir, my lovely!" Lestat held out his arms to Anne.
"Good evening, Lestat," Anne said, kissing him. "So, what do you think of all this, hmm? A lot of research went into it, you know.""You did this? Merci, ma belle!" Lestat lifted Anne in his arms and whirled her around.
"No, no, no!" She laughed. "Not me, Louis."
"Louis?" Lestat looked around. "Louis who?"
Anne and David laughed. Lestat hit the power button on the fax machine, it gave forth several electronic beeps sounds and tests, ending with a mechanical voice, "No incoming faxes. Outgoing systems at ready.""You don't mean MY Louis?" Lestat said to Anne.
"Uh-huh." Anne nodded.
"You are saying he authorized someone to select all of this?" Lestat was practically dumbfounded."No, I'm saying he went out and researched the technology, studied the market, compared the available equipment and put it all together for you. He thought he might surprise you with it. And as I can see, you are surprised!" Anne smiled.
"My dear, I am utterly awestruck," Lestat paused, then turned back to her. "Why?"
"I think he might have wanted to please you, Lestat." Anne said.
"Please ME? No, there must be some other explanation."
"Lestat! Don't be such a damn insolent ungrateful brat! You'll hurt his feelings! He worked very hard on this, and he did it just for you." Anne glared at Lestat.
"Really, Lestat, you should be very flattered," David agreed.
"Ah, Louis!" Lestat looked through the door. "We were just discussing you, cher."
"Were we? Well that is quite frightening. Hello Anne," Louis kissed her cheek.
"Louis," David turned to him, kissing his cheek. "This is all wonderful, really! Lestat was just saying so."
"Was he?" Louis returned the kiss.
"I was indeed," Lestat assured Louis, as they kissed each other in greeting.
"I'm glad," Louis said, humbly.
"I told you he'd like it." Anne smiled to Louis.
"Yes, you did." Louis acknowledged.Anne turned to Lestat, "He was so afraid that everything wouldn't be quite right and you'd hate it. He exchanged the fax machine three times! You wouldn't believe how-"
"Anne!""What Louis?" She blinked at him innocently.
"It isn't necessary to elaborate.""Oh, you're just embarrassed." She waved him off.
"Yes, please do go on," David requested, looking affectionately at Louis.
Anne grinned wickedly. "Well, he fussed and fretted over this computer. I got a call at two in the morning, inquiring as to whether I preferred the movable mouse or the stationary ball."
Lestat pulled Louis in front of him and locked his arms around his fledgling's chest. "Louis, I do believe you are blushing."
"He was frantic to get the software installed properly. He must have been on the tech support line for five hours," Anne continued, devilishly as Louis's blush deepened.
"My little geek." Lestat kissed Louis's hair.
"Well, it is quite state-of-the art, Louis. I commend your decisions," David said.
"Thank you, David," Louis answered, putting a hand to his crimson face.
Suddenly a familiar guitar riff screamed through the office, drumbeats vibrated the desk, a synthesizer joined the marching rhythm building to a climax that peaked with the sound of Lestat's voice chanting out, "I am the Vampire Lestat."
"What the hell is that?" David asked, startled.
"THE GRAND SABBAT, David. I am insulted. It was my first single," Lestat informed him.
"I do apologize Lestat, I never liked it as much as THE LEGACY OF MAGNUS," David told him "The synthesizer is a bit too strong on it, don't you think?"
"I will not take musical criticism from a man who attends rock concerts in an overcoat and starched collar," Lestat answered.
"It's the screen saver! Louis, did you create this?" Anne looked at the flashes of Lestat's videos as they danced across the monitor.
"Khayman did most of it, actually," Louis answered her. "Do you like it Lestat?"
"It's brilliant!" Lestat released Louis and stared at the screen.
"Khayman?" David asked.
"Yes, he is extremely well-versed in computer technology," Louis told him. "I only inquired if he would explain it to me and he arrived the next night with most of it done. He got the videos from Marius. Once he arrived all that was left to do was install it and set up the controls. It is a bit loud, though, isn't it?"
"It's perfect!" Lestat exclaimed.
"He did one with REQUIEM FOR THE MARQUISE as well, it was his favorite." Louis slid the mouse over it's pad and clicked a few times and that song began playing.
"Umm, I thought Khayman liked to crush computers in to the smallest possible wad and throw them through windows," Anne whispered to Louis.
"Oh, he hardly ever does that anymore," Louis whispered back, patting her shoulder in assurance.
Lestat was entranced with himself, staring at his screen saver. "I haven't seen these in years."
"You look just the same." David said, cheekily.
Anne and Louis laughed. Lestat looked at David, "I was just thinking that I look much better, actually."
Now David laughed as well.
"Have the two of you concluded your interview already?" Louis asked.
"We haven't even started. I only just arrived." Anne told him.
"Do you still wish to make your purchase tonight, David?" Louis phrased the question so as not to reveal what the purchase was to be, should David be embarrassed by it.
"If not tonight, then tomorrow night. We certainly have all of the time in the world but I wish to have one as soon as possible. I believe the experience will be enlightening." David's eyes shined in anticipation.
"What are you talking about?" Lestat asked.
"I asked Louis to help me obtain a coffin. I wish to sleep in one." David answered, without a hint of embarrassment.
"How intriguing!" Anne was equally thrilled with the idea.
Lestat sighed, "Really David, you know it is no longer necessary. This house is properly sealed, covered and insulated from sunlight. And beds are much more comfortable."
"I don't doubt the security of the house, Lestat. I have slept here before remember? But I do wish to sleep in a coffin. It is so . . .vampiric."
"Fledglings." Lestat sighed.
"And Louis needs one as well." David said.
"Louis?" Lestat looked toward his emerald eyed love. "Why do you need one?"
"I don't." Louis told him.
"Louis, you do." David pressed.
Louis shrugged. "Regardless, David wishes to purchase one and I agreed to accompany him."
"Would you like to come along?" David asked Anne.
"I thought you'd never ask," she smiled.
"Are you sure, Anne?" Louis asked, worriedly. "Wouldn't it be a bit . . .morbid for you?"
"Are you kidding! I think it sounds like a great time!" Anne laughed.
"You would." Louis shook his head at her, but couldn't help smiling.
"We could put the interview off, if you don't mind, David." Anne said.
"Not at all. Shall we go now, then?" David looked to Louis.
"If you wish. But first we should determine the exact measurements of this body." Louis looked David up and down.
"Aren't they all a standard size?" Anne asked.
"Generally, yes, but David is exceptionally tall, and it is best to have an exact width, for comfort." Louis told her.
"If you want a proper and suitable coffin, David, you will have to have one made." Lestat said.
"Not necessarily." Louis contradicted.
"David will hardly be pleased with one of these assembly line metal monstrosities that pass for coffins these days." Lestat said with distaste.
"Lestat, you can order wooden coffins from Italy and France. Almost all of the mortuaries have imported coffins for sale." Louis told him.
"How do YOU know?" Lestat asked, in an annoyed tone.
"I went with Daniel, when his mother died, to obtain one." Louis explained.
"You what?" Lestat was incredulous.
"Daniel's mother died?" Anne asked with concern.
"Yes-"
"When was this?" Lestat interrupted Louis.
"A few years ago. I think it was when you two were in Amsterdam." Louis said, meaning Lestat and David.
"What happened?" Anne asked.
"It was an accident, in an automobile." Louis told her.
"Why did you go? Why didn't he take the church ornament?" Lestat asked.
"I didn't ask, but I suppose Armand's presence would have been more difficult to explain, due to the appearance of his age." Louis mused. "He was going to go alone, I offered to accompany him."
"That was good of you." David said.
"Since I had been through the same experience, I thought I could help." Louis shrugged off the compliment.
"Poor Daniel." Anne said. "That must have been difficult."
"Yes, it was. He is fairly certain now that he wants to stage his own disappearance, or death, for their sake and his own. It is too difficult to explain his eyes and nails and skin. It has been five years, he is thirty-seven years old, in three years he'll be forty. It is becoming evident, in comparison to the others in his generation, that he is not aging. And he is running out of believable excuses for his nocturnal lifestyle." Louis sighed.
"Thank God he has you to go to for that as well. Are you going to advise him as to how he could ignite the Night Island?" Lestat managed to ask it with a straight face.
Louis shot him a venomous look but otherwise ignored the remark. "Let's measure you, David."
Louis went to his desk and brought out a tailor's measuring tape. "Put your arms at your sides, please."
David did so. Louis measured the width around David's waist and arms, his shoulders, his feet, and finally his height.
"You are in fact, 6 feet, two inches and a third." Louis informed him.
"You should take up basketball." Anne said.
"Well, if we are going, we may as well go now, while we still have some evening left." Lestat donned a long grey wool coat.
"You are coming?" Louis asked.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought you were going to start writing." Louis answered.
"Not tonight Beautiful One. I'll take one more night in the charming company of my fledglings before I shut the door of this magnificent office and allow the muse to take me."
Louis smiled.
The three vampires fed quickly and Anne returned home to change. They met again at Anne's First Street house. Louis dressed in a rather somber and quite plain black suit, with a white shirt and black tie. He had cut his hair short and modern, and could have been almost nondescript, but for his inescapable beauty. David, also dressed appropriately in funereal dark grey, was still sensually exotic. Anne had donned a black velvet dress, very gothic, but not too overt. But Lestat was resplendent in a double breasted blue Brooks Brothers affair, with sapphire and diamond shirt studs and cuff links. He sported a rather loud multicolored tie and lots of gold around his wrists and fingers. His hair was long and full and he had even pierced one ear.
"Lestat, you are supposed to be in mourning." David scolded him.
"Relax, David, I inherited all the money, but none of the taste. There's one in every family."
They first visited Bultman Funeral Home. To save time, Lestat flew with Anne and David flew with Louis. They walked through the doors, which were open, it being but eight o'clock, and showings were still taking place.
Lestat located the funeral home director, and with a mental suggestion that the three men he was encountering looked perfectly normal, and the lady with them was NOT Anne Rice, they approached him.
"Good evening, I am the Right Reverend Tyrone Deal, at your service. How may I help you all tonight?"
They explained that they needed to shop for a coffin, and the Reverend led them to his showroom. Coffins of all sizes, colors and materials stood in rows with their lids open. Each held a placard on it's pillow with the materials, model number, name and price.
"May I ask whom you have lost?" Reverend Deal asked in a sympathetic voice.
"What?" Anne asked, looking to see that the other three were right behind her.
"Your relationship to the deceased," the Reverend clarified.
"Oh-" Lestat began.
"Our brother." Louis said, stepping forward before Lestat could finish. "David's twin."
"Oh, I am so sorry." Reverend Deal said to David.
David, taken by surprise at this revelation, stuttered a bit. "Y. . .yes. Uh . . .quite a . . .shock."
"Thank you." Louis said to the Reverend, giving David a supportive pat on the back.
"Well, do you have any particular preference or price range?" the Reverend asked, skillfully sounding as if he had never asked this question before.
"Wood." Lestat said. "Expensive."
Louis surreptitiously jabbed him in the stomach, unfortunately jamming his finger in the process.
"He means, price is no object." Anne covered the remark.
"I see," the Reverend nodded, though he had seen the jab, he pretended that he had not. "Do you have a wood preference?"
"Rosewood or mahogany." Lestat answered, rubbing his stomach.
"David," Louis overemphasized the name, "what do you think he would have wanted?"
"He was always very fond of oak, remember?" David reminisced.
"Do you have any in oak?" Anne inquired in a subdued tone.
"Yes ma'am, if you'll just follow me." The Reverend led them to the back row. "This one, on the end, is oak."
"Too plain." Lestat commented.
The Right Reverend Tyrone Deal momentarily lost his somber composure and narrowed his eyes at Lestat.
"Do you have anything more ornate?" David asked. "He loved wood carving."
"Hmm, well this is our stock, I am afraid." The Reverend looked apologetic.
"Don't you import coffins from France and Italy?" Lestat asked.
Reverend Deal looked at him a moment. "No, we don't sir. We do have a few from Quebec, though."
"See, baby brother!" Lestat said to Louis in such a jeering and patronizing tone that the Reverend had no doubt but that he was the older brother.
"Thank you for your time." Louis said, calmly ignoring Lestat with such disdainful ease that Reverend Deal had no doubt but that he was the much to be pitied younger brother. "We have a few decisions to make. We'll contact you again."
"That will be fine sir, may I have your name?" the Reverend said, pointedly keeping his attention only on Louis.
"Thibodeaux." Louis said, knowing it to be the southern Louisiana equivalent of "Smith".
They exited. As soon as they were outside, Lestat turned Louis around. "And just WHAT was that for?"
"Lestat, families in mourning do NOT say that they want an "expensive" coffin!" Louis answered him.
"Mon Dieu!" Lestat spat out in frustration. "We shouldn't be dealing through these mortals, anyway!"
"Well then how do you propose we obtain one, monsieur?" Louis folded his arms.
"I'll put one of my agents on it. David can have one by tomorrow night!" Lestat told him.
"Thought it was rather fun, actually." David said quietly, to Anne.
"So did I." Anne whispered back.
"Lestat, don't you ever do anything for yourself?" Louis asked. "Good God, it isn't that difficult!"
"Louis, I retain them specifically so that I do not have to attend to such mundane chores."
"Well if you find it a chore, why didn't you stay at home?" Louis demanded.
"Because I forgot how dreary you make everything, Louis." Lestat turned spiteful.
"Well you also apparently forgot that you USED to be some kind of actor!" It was one of Lestat's sensitive spots, and Louis knew it. "But I suppose it must be difficult to keep all of your lies straight."
"It isn't a lie, Damn you, and you know it!" Lestat's eyes blazed in anger. "The things I write do not come from MY imagination the way that little patricidal fantasy you had of finding me weak and pathetic and begging you to stay with me came from yours!"
"ENOUGH!"
All three vampires looked at Anne.
"That is all of the bickering I want to hear tonight, boys." She glared at them forcefully. "Act your ages! You are embarrassing both David and myself, as well as wasting our time."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"I apologize, Anne," Louis said, contritely. "And to you David."
Anne and David nodded their acceptance and both looked to Lestat.
Lestat looked offended. "What? He started it!"
There were sighs and head shaking all around as they walked to a partly hidden back alley, so that they could take to the air to reach their next destination, Jacob Schoen and Son. Once out of sight, David quickly rose with Anne, leaving Louis to be carried by Lestat.
"You'll have to teach me that trick," David said in Anne's ear.
Anne laughed. "I'll let you borrow a dozen or so 3-year-olds of my acquaintance, you'll pick it up pretty quickly."
"You're telling me the psychology is the same?" David chuckled.
"Yes, but the 3-year-olds will actually change their behavior afterwards, whereas the 200-year-olds are hopeless, as far as long term reform." Anne sighed.
By the time they landed, Louis and Lestat were on civil terms, which was all that could be expected. Unfortunately, they found nothing at that funeral home, though they did carry imported coffins. And they added a bit to their story.
"May I ask the name of your brother?" A man who had introduced himself as Frank Parrish, asked.
"Jonathan." Louis said, at the same time that Lestat said, "Goliath."
"Goliath was a nickname," David explained.
Frank nodded, thinking this was quite an odd family. "And will he be interred above ground?"
"Yes." Louis said, as Lestat said, "No."
Frank acknowledged them with a nod and then looked to David.
"Well, we aren't sure, yet." David said, lamely.
"We thought we'd try below first and if he doesn't like that, dig him up and try the other." Lestat explained cheerfully.
Anne made a circling motion at the side of her head with her finger and pointed to Lestat. Frank didn't doubt it for a moment. He wrapped up the questions quickly and when they found nothing to their taste in the showroom, he ushered them out, locking the door behind them.
They continued to the Bertha Griffin Lamour Funeral Home. And though they still did not find a coffin that would serve 'Jonathan', they did illuminate the cause of death.
"What hospital is the deceased at now?" asked a lovely young lady named Hannah, who was the embalmer.
"He isn't." Anne said.
"Oh?" she seemed surprised.
"He died in Brazil." David said sadly.
"I see. So will you want us to ship the casket there?" Hannah asked.
"No. He, uh, he is coming here. But, he hasn't arrived yet." Louis answered.
Hannah looked skeptical.
"They are having a bit of a problem, due to . . .the tragedy." Lestat began to sob quietly. Anne comforted him.
"I'm sorry." Hannah answered.
"It's alright." Lestat said, recovering himself briefly. "It's just that he was killed" Lestat sniffed sorrowfully, "during Carnaval," Lestat took a deep breath, "by . . .by . . .by a Samba Parade!" He collapsed into rather dramatic wails. "Trampled!"
Louis had to leave the room. David and Anne escorted Lestat out, telling Hannah that they would return, perhaps the next night, and thanking her for her time.
Louis had exited before them and they found him a few blocks away. He was leaning against a wall, staring up at the stars, obviously waiting for them to catch up to him. Lestat knew he had provoked him, and assumed his fledgling was preparing to read him the riot act. Which, of course, was always an enjoyable experience. Louis colored beautifully when he was in a temper. His eyes sparked and flashed, his accent thickened, his fangs flashed when he spoke, he bristled with anger and passion. It was so adorable Lestat could hardly stand it. And Lestat made no secret of how it delighted him, which never failed to outrage Louis even more. Lestat could barely keep from rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He reached Louis first and stood beside him.
Louis continued to stare upwards for a moment, though he knew Lestat was there. Then, very slowly and soberly he turned to Lestat, and smiled, his eyes filled with emerald mischief.
"Now, isn't this more fun than having your agent acquire one, Lestat?"
Lestat was shocked speechless. He stared at the bewitching figure before him and was so overtaken with desire, he nearly sank his fangs into Louis right there. How could Louis so effortlessly fulfill Lestat's every wish? He was emotional enough to satisfy Lestat's need for argument, sentiment and warmth, yet he was stubborn, willful, and imperturbable enough to be maddening. He could be depended upon for both worship and scolding. And just when Lestat thought he could predict and manipulate him completely, Louis surprised him. Lestat wanted to say, 'Yes, my precious love. And Louis, mon Coeur, I forgive you everything; the passivity, the guilt, the lies, the insults, the burning, the refusal, everything. J'taime, Louis. I love you.' But of course he did not.
He regarded the devilish grin growing wider with every second of his silence. He nodded regally to Louis.
"Touché, monsieur." Lestat gave him an indulgent wink.
"Where to now?" Anne asked, she and David having approached behind Lestat.
"Leitz-Egan." Louis told her. "Can you direct David?"
Anne nodded and David gallantly opened his arms. They rose in the air as Lestat caught Louis around the waist.
"Non." Louis took Lestat's arms and Lestat allowed him to push them off, puzzled. "Let's race."
"What?" Lestat really wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
"You remember," Louis raised his eyebrows, "don't you?"
Lestat stared, completely mystified. "Not a clue."
Louis snapped his fingers, which Lestat wasn't sure he'd ever seen him do before, and looked as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh yes, you wouldn't recognize it without this." Very quickly, he backhanded Lestat across the mouth. "Fiend!" Louis spat at him, though his eyes were laughing, then turned, jumped to the nearest roof and began running at his top speed toward Leitz-Egan Funeral Home.
For one second Lestat was completely confused, then almost angry and finally exuberant as he jumped to the roof Louis had just disappeared over and pursued his fledgling, as they used to do, when they first lived in this city, and everything was still new and overwhelming to them both. So much so, that they'd never noticed that they were in love.
Chapter Three
David and Anne took to the street a block or so before the doors. They waited for Louis and Lestat.
"This is rather odd," David commented. "It certainly should not be taking them this long."
"Hopefully they aren't fighting somewhere." Anne sighed.
"Shall we go in without them?" David asked.
"Yes, let's." Anne answered. "We have no idea how long they may be."
Lestat caught Louis almost seven blocks away. If it had been a challenge of just speed, he would have caught him much sooner. But Louis was very good at feinting left and running right, slipping into shadows, stealing soundlessly through windows and doors, and of course diversionary tactics. Lestat relied entirely too much upon his telepathy when tracking victims and other vampires, and so he was unused to chasing "blind" as he had to since he could not read his fledgling.
He tried to see Louis in the minds of the surrounding mortals, but Louis knew he would do this, and mostly passed them unseen. Louis had to stay somewhat near to mortals, however, to hide his heartbeat and breathing, which he knew Lestat was powerful enough to hear.
Lestat was also a bit distracted, as his mind kept wandering back to why Louis wanted to do this. It was exhilarating fun, definitely, but that was more a rationale that he would use, not Louis. Was Louis distracting him from something? Leading him into something? Had he finally gone insane? Lestat spotted him, hiding in a doorway. Louis was looking about, searching for Lestat. Not seeing his blond pursuer, Louis climbed the wall of the building and went into an open window. Lestat followed, just watching, waiting to see what he would do. Louis ran through the building, it happened to be a restaurant, and exited out a window on the other side, jumping to the alleyway. Lestat could see that he was radiant with happy excitement, an extremely unusual state of being for Louis. What was going on here?
Louis entered an apartment building and crawled out of a window to the roof. Lestat immediately willed himself to the roof and grabbed him from behind.
"You are captured, Pointe du Lac, surrender or die!" Lestat snarled triumphantly in Louis's ear.
"I'll never surrender!" Louis retorted.
"Resistance is futile." Lestat jumped from the roof with him and landed in a deserted courtyard. He turned Louis to face him and lifted him into the air. "You are vanquished, throw yourself upon my mercy!"
"Jamais!" Louis declared.
"Never?" Lestat tossed him into the air and caught him. "Did you say never?"
Louis laughed.
Lestat brought Louis nose to nose with him. "You DIDN'T say NEVER to ME, did you?"
Louis bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop laughing. He nodded.
Lestat shook his head sadly. "Well, I suppose I shall be forced to torture you."
"Do your worst, demon Marquis. You will never break me!" Louis challenged him defiantly.
"Pretty little Creole." Lestat traced Louis's cheek bone with his fingernail. "It is a pity really, that I must crush your spirit and bend you to my will."
"You cannot do either, Lioncourt. You haven't the strength."
Lestat was being overcome with Louis's spirit and bedazzled by the glitter in his eyes and the color in his cheeks. He held Louis closer, bringing them chest to chest. "You don't think so?"
Louis lifted his face, offering his mouth to Lestat. "No," he breathed.
Lestat kissed him hard, and then took his wrists and held them behind his back.
"Ow." Louis commented casually.
"Now, what is all this, running along the roofs of New Orleans and playing about with me? Have you lost your mind or something?" Lestat asked.
Louis shyly looked down. "I don't know."
"It's damned unusual for you."
"Yes."
Lestat waited for a few minutes. "What is the explanation, Louis?"
Louis shrugged, "Everything feels a bit different now, since I was burnt. More intense, sharper, it is as if there is a new purity to my senses and even my emotions. It feels very good to be home. I am happy that you were impressed with the office. And it feels so familiar to be out with you again. I suppose it put me in a silly mood."
"Silly? A 'silly' mood?" Lestat captured his mouth again. "I was just thinking how sexy it was."
Louis blushed. "Is this the torture you were speaking of?"
"Why? Are you suffering?"
"Always. Don't you read your own books?"
Lestat laughed. "My beautiful angel of sorrows."
"We should go. Anne and David will wonder what happened to us." Louis said, though he made no move to free his wrists or get away.
"Mmmmm, yes. You're right." Lestat agreed, and then nipped at Louis's bottom lip with his fangs.
"No, really, we should." Louis said, with no conviction at all.
"We are in complete accord over the subject." Lestat took Louis's wrists in one hand and loosened Louis's tie and unfastened his two top buttons with the other.
"We both consent then." Louis looked deep into Lestat's eyes, they were an intense shade of violet.
"Two minds with but a single thought." Lestat leaned close and lightly ran his fangs down Louis's throat.
"HEY! ROMEO AND ROMEO! GET A ROOM ALREADY!" A window of the apartment building banged shut.
Startled, Louis stepped back and almost tripped over a branch. Luckily, Lestat still had his wrists in his grip. Lestat released his wrists and caught him around the waist. "Relax, Louis. I don't think they're going to tell your mother."
Louis laughed nervously. "I think we really should find . . .um . . .ummm. . . ."
"David and Anne?" Lestat offered.
"Yes, them." Louis laughed harder. Lestat joined him.
"Alright Romeo. Is it acceptable to fly this time?"
"Yes, Romeo, it is."
By the time they arrived at Leitz-Egan, Anne and David were already deep into the story of 'Jonathan' with a very sympathetic woman who was introduced to them as Anna Mae.
"We are so sorry we're late." Lestat said. "I am afraid my brother and I became lost. It has been a long time since we were home."
"Yes, I noticed your accent," Anna Mae said. "Isn't it French?"
"Oui." Lestat unleashed his killer charm. "Parlez-vous français, chere mademoiselle?"
"Un peu." Anna Mae laughed. She looked to David, "But your accent is British, isn't it?"
"I have been away from home for sometime as well." David answered.
"Have you found anything suitable for Jonathan?" Lestat asked, straightening and tightening Louis's tie for him.
"Well, we are still looking." Anne told him.
"Have you anything with tigers on it?" Lestat asked.
"No, I don't believe we do." Anna Mae answered him.
"Hmmmm, any kind of wild animals?" Lestat pressed.
"There probably isn't much call for that in the coffin industry Lestat." Anne told him.
"No I am afraid you are right." Anna Mae nodded. "But we refer to them as caskets."
"Whatever." Anne answered brightly.
"How about guns? Or machetes?" Lestat inquired.
"Tribal dart blowers?" David wondered to himself.
Anna Mae gave him a long look. "Well, I am afraid it is time for me to be closing up. If you'd like to return tomorrow I am sure my brother James would be happy to help you."
"Thank you so much," Louis spoke up for the first time. "We shall do that."
Once outside, Anne turned to David. "This coffin had better last you a long time, you won't be able to show your face in any of these establishments for a while."
David laughed. "Next time I think I'll ask for bats and strings of garlic!"
Lake Lawn Metairie Funeral Home seemed deserted. Lestat unlocked a back door and they entered. They found the display of coffins rather easily and began perusing them, by the light of the street lamps as it shone through a large picture window. They were commenting upon each one, and rather wrapped up in their opinions when they were interrupted.
"'Scuse me, folks," said a young man, flipping on the lights. "But we only allow da dead in heah aftah hours."
Anne nearly had an episode. "Oh my God! You scared me to death!"
"Okay den, you can stay. But da othah t'ree gotta go," the young man smiled.
"That's not fair!" Lestat protested, "we were dead before her!"
"Uh-huh." the young man looked at him skeptically. "So can I ask why you're hauntin' my showroom?"
"We are looking for a coffin." David said.
"Dat's a likely story." came the reply.
"Excuse me, sir, I am terribly sorry." Louis said, approaching him and extending his hand. "My name is Louis Thibodeaux."
"Shorty." The young man identified himself as he took Louis's hand.
"And we really are looking to purchase a coffin." Anne told him.
"I bet ya are, Anne." Shorty said, reaching to take her hand.
He had come upon them so suddenly that neither Lestat nor David had time to put any suggestions into his mind. Anne took advantage of the situation.
"You know my name?" She asked.
"Aw, don't be modest. Everybody in New Arlins knows your name. I can't believe you're reduced ta stealin' coffins, though. What's da mattah, didn't OUEEN OF THE DAMNED sell as well as you t'ought?" Shorty teased her.
"It sold QUITE well, EXTREMELY well, in fact." Lestat bristled. Louis reached his hand behind Lestat and smacked him.
"What you all lookin' for?" Shorty leaned against a fairly nice brass casket and folded his hands.
"Oh, something, sort of Gothic." David answered.
"Like what? You want crucifixes and cryin' angels and bleedin' roses, dat stuff ?" Shorty asked.
"Exactly." David answered.
"We ain't got it." Shorty told him.
"Ah, I see." Louis sounded disappointed.
"I know where you can get it though, Lonigan and Sons, ovah on Magazine."
"Really? Great!" Anne hugged David in her excitement.
"Yeah, dey prob'ly have whatevah you want. Very, sort of, Cat'olic design to da stock."
"Thank you so much." Louis said.
"Shore. Good luck. Since you all saw yourselves in I assume you all can see yourselves out? I have ta get back downstairs to da customers, before dey get up an' walk out." Shorty grinned and shook their offered hands. Once again in the basement, he made one phone call.
"Lonigan and Sons, Bubba Weisberg."
"Bubba, you won't believe who is comin' ta see you."
"Shorty? Is that you?"
"Yeah, listen-"
"Hold on. Let me call you back, I've got mourners here." Bubba replaced the receiver in it's cradle and opened the door. "Good Evening."
"Good Evening." Lestat said, coming through the door and mesmerizing the man.
"How may I help you?" Bubba asked.
"We would like to see your coffins, please." Anne asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Right this way." He led them down a small set of stairs and into three large rooms filled with coffins. Brass and wood, detailed and ornate, tapered and carved, perfect.
"Is there anything you are looking for in particular?" Bubba asked.
"Could we just have one of each?" Anne said, caught up in the sight a little too much.
Louis laughed. "She's kidding, of course."
"Would we be allowed to browse for a bit?" David asked.
"Please, feel free. I'll be around if you need me. If you can't find me down here I'll be right upstairs in the office," Weisberg answered.
"Fine, thank you," David said.
Weisberg ascended the stairs. Anne and the vampires meandered through the coffins. They saw angels in prayer, sheaves of wheat, roses and acanthus leaves, doves and crosses, Celtic knotwork, even a replica of Da Vinci's last supper, carved into the side of one. In their musings, they separated from each other.
Chapter Four
Louis wandered into the far room and encountered something extraordinary. A cypress coffin with weeping angels at all four corners! Louis lowered the lid, there he saw a large crucifix flanked by St. Dominic and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Mon Dieu! Louis screamed, but no noise came from him. It was the very design of the coffin he had commissioned for Paul, with Monsieur Lermontant, in 1791! He released the lid as if it were red hot, it sprang back to its open position with a soft creak. Fearfully he looked down into the coffin. There was Paul. He lay there as fresh as if he had just died minutes ago. His head took the same appalling contour as it had then, from being smashed at the back on the bricks.
'No, not possible!' Louis sank down on a nearby bench, but could not tear his eyes from Paul's face. The walls of the parlour at Pointe du Lac took shape around him. He heard a voice.
"Michi? . . .Michi Louis?"
He saw himself, mortal, young, grieving, kneeling at this same coffin. "Yes?" he answered without turning his head, nor taking his eyes from Paul.
"You all right?" An older black woman came into the parlour. One of the slaves, Josephine. She had been brought to the house to take care of Louis when she was young. She had stayed in the house, taking care of Marie and then Paul, and had grown older with them. Louis loved her. She was his "Momé," his nurse, his nanny, his mammy. Though now he was a man, and the master, which was not easy nor comfortable. But it was the way things were. He did not question the circumstances, he thought only that he himself had to be extra vigilant, lest he fail in his duty, in his responsibility.
"Oui, je suis bien." His voice sounded hollow.
"There anythin' I can get for you?" She came closer.
"Non."
" . . .You be goin' to bed soon?"
"Non, I'll stay here with Paul."
"Michi, it long after sundown. You should be sleep." She stood behind him.
"Paul is sleeping well enough for the both of us, don't you think?"
Her eyes were tearful and her voice was soft. "Michi Louis, you not gonna bring Michi Paul back. Not by wishin', or prayin'. Not by takin' no food or gettin' no sleep."
Louis hardened his expression, lest he break down in tears again. "You may go, Josephine."
She covered a small smile at his commanding tone. She put her hands on her hips. "Michi Louis, I put you to bed when you was a pup, an' I can put you to bed now!"
Louis rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Go away, Momé, I am not in the mood for arguments."
She knelt beside him. "Non Michi Louis, I s'pose you not. . . .Michi Paul loved you very much. He'd not like to see you suffer so much."
"Paul believed in sin. Paul believed in penance." Louis looked back at his brother's face.
"What you mean, sin and penance?"
"I have to pay. It was my fault." Louis said in an accepting, defeated tone.
"Non, Michi Louis, it was NOT!" Josephine said heatedly. "I tol' you what Emile an' Jocaste saw. Evette saw it too, from upstairs. He walk to the stair steps, he look up an' he fall down to the bottom. He FALL Michi. It wasn't nothin' to do with you. You still in your room when he fell."
Louis shook his head slowly. "He wouldn't have fallen if I hadn't been so unkind to him. I upset him deeply and he was disappointed in me and distraught. That is WHY he fell."
"Non Michi -"
Louis turned, finally, and looked at her. "It is no use, Momé, everyone knows it is true. Even Maman . . .she has told les gendarmes, you know. They will come for me tomorrow."
"Non, Michi!"
He nodded. "It is true. She told them it was my fault. She told them something horrible happened in my study. She told them that I had been cruel to Paul and I had fought with him and angered him just before the fall. She told them . . .she called . . .she called me a murderer."
Josephine took his arms. "Michi Louis that a LIE!"
"It is true."
Josephine let go of his arms and took his hands. "Non, non she insane with grief. You know how Madame was 'bout Michi Paul. She don' really believe you ever do anythin' to hurt him."
"She does, Momé," he looked into her face, his green eyes were large and held a hint of fear, beneath the misery and guilt. "I think she wants them to put me in jail. . . I think she wants me hanged."
"NON MICHI!"
Louis bit his lip and looked back at Paul. "She is right. I was cruel to him."
"I don' believe it. You loved petit Michi Paul more than life itself. You cut off your own right arm 'fore you ever harm a hair on his head."
The tears began to fall. "I was, Momé. He requested something from me and I denied him."
"Michi you give him everythin' he ever wanted. What he ask for?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that he wanted it, desperately. He begged for it, and I wouldn't even listen." Louis's voice broke.
"You must have had good reason," Josephine said, reassuringly.
"You don't understand! It isn't that I denied him. I had to. It is that I didn't do it as I should have! I laughed at him, Momé!" Louis cried. "I laughed at him and now he's dead!"
She reached and gathered him into her arms. "Hush Louis, hush child. It's alright. Maybe you make a mistake, but everyone make mistakes. You been run this family and the plantations for nigh on nine years with nary a one. You raised Paul from a little child -"
"And now I've killed him!" Louis sobbed into her shoulder.
"Non, Louis, non. You listen to me now. You been sit here and stare at him for too long. You not eaten, you not slept, you sayin' crazy things. You ALWAYS been a good brother to Michi Paul, an' to Mamzelle Marie too. You been a good son. You a good master. You not got a mean bone in your body!" She kissed his cheeks. "Now a terrible, terrible thing happened. An' now everyone confused and upset. An' your Maman, Madame Bernadette, you got to remember how she was when the fever took your poor Papa, Michi Jean-Michel. Remember, Madame cry an' scream an' pull her hair out? She call the doctor a murderer, remember, Louis? What about poor petite Marie, cryin' her own eyes out, and Madame too mad to take care of her? An' you yourself hold her and rock her every night, 'cause it took all four of us just to get Madame to bed. An' bébé Paul, he keep askin' for his Papa, an' you had to explain it to him over an' over, an' keep him away from your Maman 'cause she be crazy mad with his questions. Remember Louis, she went all through the house in a fury, searchin' for your Papa's watch, claimin' the doctor stole it, an' when you tried to get her to stop an' calm down, she fell on you and scratched your arms. Remember Louis? She slapped your face hard, it was bruised at the funeral mass an' Monsieur Freniere ask you about it. Remember that, Louis?"
Louis quelled his sobs and lifted his head from her shoulder. "Yes, I remember, Momé. But the doctor wasn't her own son, and she never went to les gendarmes about him. She may be grieving, but she knows what she believes, and she has everyone else believing it too. She has told everyone in the parish. Everyone looks at me with suspicion. Everyone believes her. . .and I believe her, Momé, I believe her myself."
"Michi Louis, you must stop this now. All this lies not doing Michi Paul no good, an' they like to kill you your own self. An' then what Madame Bernadette an' Mamzelle Marie do with no man?"
"I don't know, Momé. Please. I don't know. I cannot answer any more questions, truly. Please just go to bed and let me be."
"I can't go to bed an' leave you sit here. I toss an' turn all night with worry over you."
Louis sighed wearily. "Do what you will, then."
"I sit right here 'til you go to your bed, Michi."
"Momé, why must you trouble me and vex me this way?"
"You need to be take care of, Michi. But you won't let me do it, so I got to devil you 'til you do!"
"Oh Momé. What is it that you want?"
"Michi, I want you to take some tea an' some bread an' then go to sleep."
"Fine, bring it." Louis looked back to Paul.
"Non, Michi Louis, not in here. You come to the table."
"Non."
Josephine stood up and towered over him, demanding his attention. "I am NOT havin' you EAT in Michi Paul's lying-in room! Don' you know it bad luck to eat in front of the dead? I TOL' you that before. You gonna upset Michi Paul's spirit an' turn him into a haunt!"
"Please, Momé, either bring me the tea or go to bed."
"I put the tea an' the bread on the table. I bring you the butter too. But you come to the table or I come back an' sit right here with you. An' I can sit here long as you can, Michi Louis. Prob'ly longer!"
Louis exhaled loudly in frustration. "Alright, fine, bring it to the table."
"You comin' to the table?" Josephine asked, her hands on her hips again, not moving.
"Oui, Momé, I'll come." Louis looked up at her.
She turned and walked toward the kitchen. "Tres bien. I bring you a praline if you eat the bread."
"You made pralines?" Louis asked, in spite of himself. He found himself following her.
"Mmm-hmm, I thought that might perk you up some." She said, knowingly. Louis had an insatiable sweet tooth, and pralines were his favorite. She pulled out a kitchen chair, and he sat. She put the tea on. "I gonna bring you some chicken too, you eat that up."
"Momé, I'm not hungry," he protested weakly.
"You won't eat my good fried chicken?" She asked in a hurt tone.
"Just bring me some pralines, and I'll eat and you can go to bed."
She laughed. "Non, non, you not gettin' away with that. Drink this tea."
He lifted the cup she brought to his mouth and drank. He looked at her accusingly. "What is in this?"
She was outraged, or at least she seemed to be. "What you mean, what's in it? That good tea, your Mamere's best!"
"Tastes strange."
"That 'cause you so thirsty. Eat this bread an' butter." She put the plate before him. "I bring you some more tea."
"Bring me some wine."
"Oui, Michi Louis, that probably help you sleep, but first you eat this chicken leg."
"Bring the bottle." He called after her.
She returned with the bottle and a glass. She opened the bottle. "You eat all that bread already?"
"I thought you wanted me to eat it!"
"You didn't need to eat it that fast." She poured the glass full. "Here, wine."
"Merci."
"Don' tell me when you not hungry, I know when you hungry." Josephine mumbled just loud enough for Louis to hear as she cleared the bread plate. Louis rolled his eyes.
"You want a praline?" She called from the kitchen.
"Oui, s'il te plait."
"Here." She returned and handed him one. "Don' drink that wine so fast it go right to your head."
Louis felt her fingers in his hair. "What are you doing?"
"I am TRYIN' to untangle this hair so I can untie your ribbon, Michi Louis."
"OW!"
"I tol' you to let me comb it out yesterday morning, but you would not-"
"Momé, don't pull!"
"-listen to me, non. An' now it all in knots. Eat your chicken."
"I, OUCH!, did."
"You want some more? Lord, Lord, I gonna have to cut this out I think."
"Non, no more chicken," Louis said, then he felt a sharp pain in his scalp. "Stop!"
"Hold still now child, I almost got it untwisted! There, now! Let me go fetch a comb. Eat another praline."
"Just leave it."
"I will not! It be even worse tomorrow. Here, drink another glass of wine, I be right back." Josephine climbed the stairs to retrieve a comb.
Louis went into the kitchen and found the plate of pralines. He also took another bottle of wine. He brought these back with him to the table. He sat in the chair, cast a glance to the parlour, and took up the open bottle of wine and drank it all. Then he opened the second bottle and poured himself a glass.
Josephine reappeared with the comb. "Here, now, just sit quiet an' I have this combed out nice in no time." She cast a disapproving gaze at the table. She decided to let him get away with the pralines. "You drink all that wine?"
"Oui."
"You open that other bottle?"
"It is my wine, Josephine. I shall drink it if I wish."
She acted as if it didn't bother her. "Now Michi, no call to get foul tempered. I just ask you. This might pull some."
"Then don't do - OW!"
"I know, that was a tight one." She said sympathetically. "Just a few more now."
"Would you stop!"
"Patience, Michi Louis, patience." She watched him drink his glass of wine, and fill it to the top again. She ripped the comb down through his snarled hair.
"Ow! OUCH! Jesus Christ, woman!"
"MICHI LOUIS! You should be SHAMED!"
"That hurt!"
"You best watch your mouth with God's angels this close to the house." She pulled the comb free.
"Ow." Louis said, in a quiet, chastened voice.
"There, all done now." she stroked his ebony waves. "Looks so pretty. Like fine black threads of silk, Michi."
Louis sighed. "Are you happy now, Momé?"
"I be happy when I can get you into bed."
"Fine, let's go." Louis said, rising. "Bring the bottle."
"Oui, Michi Louis. Now you know, you drink this whole bottle, you be sick at the mass tomorrow."
"Bring the bottle." Louis repeated, turning towards the steps.
"Well don't come to me for no fix-you-up elixers when you done gone an' got yourself drunk an' your head poundin' like a drum."
"JUST BRING THE BOTTLE!"
"Louis?" Anne put a hand on his shoulder.
Louis leapt to his feet and whirled around. Anne stepped back, alarmed.
Louis's eyes focused, and he recognized her. "Oh, Anne. I apologize. You startled me."
"I guess so!" She smiled. "You were sitting here so still for so long, I thought maybe something was wrong."
"Non, non, just thinking."
"Ah," Anne nodded. "Me too."
"Michele?" Louis asked, pulling her close to him.
"Yes. And you?" Anne put her arms around Louis.
"Paul."
"Oh." Anne squeezed him tight, and they stood there for a long moment pondering.
"We'd best find David." Anne said, breaking the silence.
"Yes," said Louis, releasing her. "And no one's keeping an eye on Lestat."
They had just reached the main showroom when the lid of the black coffin in front of them popped open. They jumped back. Lestat sat up, eyes closed and arms crossed. He turned his head and his eyes snapped open.
"Good Evening." He said, in a Bela Lugosi accent.
Louis wanted to be outraged at this behavior, but he was too busy trying not to laugh out loud. Anne had already done so, but was trying to pass it off as a coughing fit, in case Weisberg was anywhere near.
"I forgot how fun these could be." Lestat said, stepping lightly to the floor.
David had missed this display of morbid humor as he was engrossed in his search. He had found a beautiful oaken coffin, that he was very interested in. It had a rather large, intricately worked crucifix on the lid, under which was carved, "Requiescat in pace", may he rest in peace. At the head and foot and on each side were eucharistic verses, from the King James Version of the Bible.
"Verily verily I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man,
and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth my flesh,
and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life." John 6:53-4.
"He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me,
and I in him." John 6:56.
"This is that bread which came down from heaven: not as your fathers
did eat manna, and are dead: he that eateth of this bread shall live
forever." John 6: 58.
"I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he
were dead, yet shall he live." John 11:25.
'Highly ironic,' David thought. 'And possibly inappropriate. But then again, isn't it fitting? Even if not, who will really see it but me? And I enjoy the irony.'
It was decided. Now that he was about to make his purchase, it occurred to him that "David Talbot", his former body, had already been buried by now. Someone in the Talamasca, probably poor Aaron, had performed this very errand for him, but with a much heavier heart. Even knowing what had taken place, in regard to the body switching, it still must have been difficult and sad to see the corpse.
'I wonder what sort of coffin was selected for me? Something far plainer than this, certainly. Something tasteful, respectful, staid. Something like that blue-grey varnished metal, with the white silk lined interior that has been present in every other display we have visited tonight. Something suitable for the Superior General.' David mused. He was taken by an intense wave of guilt. While he had been running about in Barbados, jumping in and out of beds like a rabbit, everyone he had known had been grieving for him.
"Would you care to sit down, sir?" Bubba Weisberg appeared helpfully at his elbow. He was quite used to mourners fainting, especially in the casket room. He had become very adept at reading facial expressions, and this guy definitely looked to be on the edge of toppling over.
"Thank you, no." David said, regaining some composure. "I believe we'll take this one."
"That's just fine. Would you accompany me to the office? We can get the paperwork taken care of and out of the way." Bubba said.
"Yes, let's do that." David followed him up the stairs.
In the room beyond, Anne was just getting herself under control. "Lestat! The funeral home guy is going to wonder where you escaped from!"
"Let him wonder," Lestat laughed. "Contrary to what my melancholy friend here would have you believe, coffin shopping need not be a depressing and serious event."
"You only think so because you have only bought them for the undead, never the dead." Louis turned to Anne. "Lestat has never even been to a funeral."
Lestat made a dismissive gesture at him.
"Really?" Anne asked. "What about your grandparents?"
"The old Marquis and Marquise were dead long before I was born. And the Italians, Mother's family, I never met."
"Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?" Anne asked.
"All dead or gone off somewhere. We had no money, as you know. The land could barely support us, much less a whole clan."
Anne was intrigued. "What about your brothers?"
"They died in the Revolution, I wasn't even in the country." Lestat looked at her oddly, he was sure she knew this.
"Yes, those, but I meant the other four." Anne explained.
"Oh, them. Well, Mathurin and Josselin both died before I was born. Céléstin died when I was almost four months old, and Ursin died when I was two. Mother stayed home from the mass with me both times."
"Augustin, Mathurin, Josselin, Céléstin, Ursin and Lestat? Who doesn't fit here?" Anne observed.
Lestat sneered, "There was also a Chauvin. The old man named them all to fit with his, Bernardin. Mother named me. She finally convinced him his names were at least unlucky, if not completely fatal."
"Your father, what about his funeral?"
Louis and Lestat looked at each other, but said nothing.
Anne knew that look meant something, "Okay, what? Tell me."
"Go on, tell her," Lestat said to Louis. "You know you want to."
"Lestat wouldn't do it." Louis informed Anne.
"Wouldn't buy a coffin?" Anne asked.
"Wouldn't buy a coffin, wouldn't have a mass, wouldn't buy a tomb, nothing." Louis clarified.
"Lestat, why?" Anne asked him.
"Why should I? And as I pointed out to Louis several times, there was no one to even attend! It was ridiculous!" He looked to Louis, "And besides, you know why, now."
"Yes, but you could have told me that at the time. I just thought you were a horrible son." Louis answered.
Lestat gave Anne a look of exasperation. "He begged me and begged me to 'give him a decent Christian burial'. He kept saying, 'But Lestat, I'll give you the money, all the money you want for it. You can send him back to Paris if you like' , on and on and on. I think I finally had to backhand him one to get him to shut up, didn't I, Louis?"
"As I recall, yes."
"Lestat! That's terrible!" Anne admonished him.
"You say that now, but you have never had to listen to him nag and pester and harass you for six nights straight about the same damn subject!" Lestat justified himself.
"Well I always liked your father." Louis interjected.
Lestat snorted. "You are an extremely poor judge of character, Louis." Lestat turned back to Anne. "But don't worry ma chere, I paid for it. He pouted for the next twelve nights."
"I did not 'pout'!" Louis said angrily.
"You did my dear Louis, and it was very annoying." Again Lestat turned to Anne. "He is one of those awful martyr pouters who won't meet your eyes, barely speak and sigh far more often than necessary. And then when you tell them to stop this irritating behavior, they act as if they have no idea what you are talking about. Sickening. I much prefer the ones who stomp about and slam doors."
"Like yourself." Louis added.
"Louis, why didn't you arrange a funeral for Lestat's father?" Anne asked, effectively cutting off any response Lestat might have made to Louis.
"I couldn't. I was dead, you see. And of course this was all occurring at the exact same time in which my sister and her husband were contacting the very same people I would have needed to contact, as they were making arrangements for me. It was impossible." Louis explained.
Anne nodded. "Ah, yes, I see."
"Of course, Lestat was right in the end, though." Louis said.
Lestat stood stock still. "Mon Dieu! Hell has frozen over!"
Louis laughed and affectionately took Lestat's hand.
"How so?" Anne asked.
"I see now that if he had done what I had asked him to do, it would have alerted the authorities, and my sister, and various other people that he was alive. They would have come asking him questions and such things. It would have caused all kinds of problems for us then." Louis said this to Anne, but he looked at Lestat.
"I was trying to protect you." Lestat said, asking, in his way, for understanding.
"I know. You COULD have explained that to me at the time, though." Louis gave Lestat's hand a quick squeeze.
"Out of the question!" Lestat told him imperiously. "You asked far too many questions as it was, no reason to encourage you with information."
Anne and Louis shook their heads at each other.
"We really should find David." Anne said.
"Yes, and the funeral director as well. I am going to purchase one tonight." Louis told her.
"Which one?" Lestat asked.
Louis led them back to the weeping angels coffin. "This one."
Lestat nodded, grinning. "Yes, it is very you."
"Do you think so? It should be; I designed it." Louis waited for the reaction.
Anne laughed, thinking it was a joke.
But Lestat knew Louis's expressions well enough to see that it was the truth. "You're serious, Louis."
"Oui."
"Tell me what you mean." Lestat said.
Louis turned to face the coffin. "I commissioned it for Paul. Cypress wood, weeping angels at the corners, crucifix flanked by the Virgin and St. Dominic on the lid. Of course his had a sliding lid, that was common then, but this is what I had asked for. See," Louis pointed to the model number, JJPDL1791. "the initials of the craftsman, Jean Jacques, my initials and the year it was commissioned. It is too much of a coincidence to be anything else. It must have been copied from his receipt book, or perhaps the Lermontants's receipts. Amazing isn't it?"
"Yes." Anne said quietly. "But are you sure, Louis? I mean, why would the same design still be made over a century later?"
"I do not know, but there it is, and how else would you explain the model number?"
Anne shook her head, "I can't."
Lestat put his arm around Louis and combed the short ebony bangs back from his deep green eyes. "Are you alright, Louis?"
Louis nodded. "It was a little shock at first, but I am fine."
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Anne asked, laying her hand on Louis's arm.
"Oh yes. Really." He looked from one to the other. Their thoughts were in their eyes. Equal worry and concern in grey and brown. "It doesn't upset me. I just think it is so . . .unbelievable."
Chapter Five
"Each one leaves his mark upon the world in many strange and various ways, Louis." David had come up behind them. He'd been following the conversation with his preternatural hearing from upstairs. "Immortals more than most. I would have told you of this, but, to be frank, I had forgotten it myself."
"You knew of this, David?" Louis asked.
"Well, yes, now that I see it, I do remember reading something of it in your file." David peered at the model number.
"Do you mean the Talamasca did this?" Anne asked.
"Not at all. In the course of our research however, the original records were uncovered. We were documenting a family which had recurrent hauntings in successive generations in New Orleans. Of course we traced all of the funeral and burial records that could be found. This man Jean Jacques was an exceptional artist. His designs were modified and reused after his death by a Frenchman named Christophe Ste Marie. He was a cousin to the Lermontant family who were morticians in New Orleans for many many decades. Ste Marie was a carpenter who made furniture as well as coffins. One of his grandsons, Jean-Marc, became a shipbuilder and eventually the Jean Jacques styles found their way to France and Italy. By the 1920's this particular design surfaced again in America, and was being used by a coffin maker in New York. From there it was exported and occurred in many places. The name often changed, but it always retained the year, the name of the craftsman, an indication that it originated in New Orleans or the PdL initials, which were translated sometimes; Prie dieu Lumiere, Poor dead Love, Pain don't Last, all sorts of things. Much of this research had begun in the 1850's, but of course with the publication of Louis's memoir in the 1970's, it was consulted to find any evidence or verification of the events described , such as Paul's death, and the thread was put together from there for this particular design. It is all in your files now, Louis, I just reviewed them a few months ago."
Louis stared at David in shock. "I had no idea . . . I mean, I knew that the Talamasca had some of our things, and what Jesse was doing, but . . . There are FILES on me alone?"
"Well yes, Louis." David found his discontent charming. 'God knows Lestat's first thought would have been-'
"How many files?" Lestat asked, hugging Louis proudly, as if he'd attracted the notice of the Nobel Prize committee.
David laughed, happy that Lestat could not read his thoughts. "Several, I don't have an exact count."
"Not more than me, I hope." Lestat said, shaking his finger at Louis.
"No," David answered, "not more than you. You have more than twelve drawers. Louis only has three, and they are a sub-category of your own. So you needn't be jealous." David shook his finger at Lestat, mocking him.
"File envy." Louis said in a stage whisper, indicating Lestat. Lestat brought his hand up to slap Louis's mouth, pulling it at the last moment to simply give his lips a light tap.
Hearing laughter erupt once again from the show room, it occurred to Bubba Weisberg that this was the jolliest group of mourners he'd dealt with in a long time.
"I have a question," Anne said. "How could the coffin have been ready in time for Paul's funeral?"
Louis looked off, thinking. "Do you know, I am not sure. It never occurred to me to ask."
"Oh the components were already prepared, the box, the angels, crucifixes, all of that. Sometimes the words were already carved as well. Due to the outbreaks of yellow fever and plague, the coffin makers in New Orleans knew that they could spend time making coffins without orders, because they would certainly be bought, sooner or later. So all that needed to be done was to affix the ornaments that were specified to the box." David explained.
Louis seemed to still be lost in thought. "I cannot remember clearly but I believe it was delivered the next afternoon."
"Well, I have already made my purchase, but Mr. Weisberg would like to know where we would like it to be delivered." David raised his eyebrows at Lestat.
Lestat reached into the Weeping Angels coffin and handed Louis the card. "You go and keep him busy. David and I will take care of the 'delivery'."
Louis nodded.
"Anne, you go with him. David did you glean from him where the stock is kept?"
"Yes, a room below this one."
"Good. You come with me."
Louis and Anne ascended the stairs to Weisberg's office.
"Sir?" Louis knocked at the door, though it was already open.
"Yes." Bubba stood up from behind his desk and smiled pleasantly. "Please, come in."
"Thank you." Louis stepped back so that Anne could precede him. Weisberg gestured to the chairs across from his desk and they sat.
"I understand you were speaking with David about delivery?" Louis asked.
"Yes, sir. Your brother explained to me that you do not wish the services to be held here, so where may we delivery the casket?"
Louis looked behind him, as if to make certain neither of his 'brothers' were around. He lowered his voice. "Well, actually, there is another purchase we need to make."
"Yes?" Bubba lowered his voice as well.
"Yes, you see, we have had another death in the family, and with it coming so close to Jonathan's, we haven't felt that the time is right to break it to David." Louis explained, painfully.
Anne patted Louis's hand. "And so we need to purchase a second casket."
"Oh, I am so sorry. Yes, I understand, of course." Bubba looked truly sympathetic.
Louis handed him the card. "We would like to have this one as well, please."
"Certainly." Bubba began drawing up the bill.
"Would you prefer check or credit card?" Louis asked.
Anne almost laughed. It was such an ordinary thing to say, but she rarely heard Louis say ordinary things.
"Either one would be fine, sir. Do you wish to make payments?"
"No, I'll pay in full." Louis wrote his check, his large old fashioned letters barely fitting on the lines. He ripped the check from the book and went into another pocket for his wallet. He produced the credit card and driver's license which were under the same name as this particular checking account.
"Thank you," Weisberg said, taking the check and ID and copying the information.
When he had finished, Anne quickly retrieved the cards before Weisberg could hand them to Louis. She wanted to see just what Louis's driver's license looked like. The picture was beautiful, though Louis was standing in the usual position, it didn't look like a mug shot, more like a serious portrait. The name was Yves-Louis Thibodeaux. The address: 1118 Royal St., New Orleans, LA 70116. Sex: Male. Birthdate: 10/04/61.
Anne counted backwards, "Good heavens, Louis, will you be 30 this year?"
Louis looked exactly like someone who had just been caught with a fake ID. "Uhm, yes."
"You don't look a day over 25. NOT a DAY." Anne flashed him a wicked grin. Sure after a few hundred years he was entitled to advance his age a bit, but not without some friendly harassment. She looked back to the card: 5'10, 137 lbs., green eyes, black hair. Date of issue: 10/04/88. Anne wondered just how Louis had obtained this. The DMV wasn't open after dark, was it?
"May I have it?" Louis held his hand out for his cards. Anne relinquished them gracefully. Louis took them with a look of relief and put them away.
Bubba had just finished up the paperwork and presented it for Louis, or rather Yves-Louis, to sign. "Now, about the delivery, our delivery man, Big Arthur will be in around eight tomorrow morning. Where would you like him to leave them?"
"The delivery has already been attended to, thank you." Louis handed back the signed papers, and motioned for Anne to stand.
"No, no, I mean of the caskets." Bubba clarified.
"So do I. Bonsoir." Louis took Anne's arm and escorted her out of the office quickly.
Lestat and David meanwhile had entered the stockroom and searched among the boxes to match the model numbers, and the liberate the desired coffins.
"David, you WOULD want the one on the very bottom of the stack." Lestat complained, trying to noiselessly move the four coffins stacked on David's.
"Do you think that's bad? Louis's is upright between two stacks, with a stack in front of it!" David snapped back.
"Oh just grab him the metal one then." Lestat giggled.
David sighed. "And you know if I did that he would only say that it was the one he'd wanted all along."
"He would say that if we only took yours and gave him the cardboard box!" Lestat gripped the bottom coffin of the stack and with a tremendous effort, pulled it from the others, like a magician whipping off a table cloth and leaving all of the dishes standing. He turned to David and bowed.
"Very nice." David mimed applause. "How would you like to release this one as well?"
"Indolent goldbricking fledgling." Lestat helped David move the stacks and they freed Louis's coffin.
The two of them exited through a basement window, pushing the coffins out ahead of them and flew with them to the town house. They returned to meet Anne and Louis a few feet from the Lonigan and Sons entrance and whisked them home just as efficiently.
Once home David carried his coffin up to his room. He put it at the foot of the bed. He dusted and polished it and removed all of the packing material from inside. He then slipped off his shoes and laid down inside. The satin was slippery and cold. He reached for the lid. For a moment he worried that it might seal and he would be trapped inside. Immediately he realized how ridiculous that was. He envisioned a headline:
VAMPIRE TRAPPED IN COFFIN BURIED ALIVE!
He dropped the lid down, secure that even if it did seal, he could easily punch a hole right through it. He watched the lid fall and heard it land with a thump. He stretched his toes. There was quite a bit of room actually. He crossed his ankles. He tried to put his hands behind his head, but that was pushing it too far. The lid was concave and left plenty of space so that his face was far from touching the lining. Not at all uncomfortable really. Of course there was no room to turn, but that would not be a problem during the death sleep. David reached up and stroked the satin.
'I am a vampire lying in my coffin,' David thought. 'Immortal. Triumphant over death. I shall rise from here every night for eternity and feed upon the blood of the living. I have not only conquered death, I have become death. I will still be filling coffins when this coffin is dust.'
David lay completely still. He smelled the wood. He studied the quilted pattern on the inside of the lid. He concentrated upon the way his hair felt against the satin pillow. He wondered how different this would be in ten years . . .twenty years . . .seventy-six years . . .200, 500, 1000. He heard a knock. Someone was knocking on his coffin. He lifted the lid.
Louis smiled down at him. "I am sorry to disturb you," he said, his emerald eyes sparkling with good humor.
David laughed and sat up. Before he could rise, though, Louis kneeled beside him.
"I thought you might wish to install one of these." Louis handed David a lock.
"Oh?" David looked at it. It was a brand new, stainless steel, sort of dead bolt affair.
"Oui, these are not designed to keep anyone out, only to keep one in. You see," Louis pointed to a few small latches. "They only lock from the outside. Not very secure. So most of our kind who use these install a lock on the inside, as a safety measure."
"Ah, so should it be discovered in the day, it cannot be opened." David nodded.
"Precisely."
David looked at the screws and the mechanism. "I see, so this would be attached to the lid?" He held a piece to the edge.
"Well, no," Louis said slowly. "Because that would only prevent the bottom from being pulled down, which is not the way most would attempt to open this."
David laughed. "I confess, I have always been lost with detailed mechanics."
"Would you allow me, then?" Louis asked eagerly.
"Certainly, if you don't mind." David answers.
"I will need to trade places with you."
"Of course." David stepped from his coffin and sat on the bed to watch.
Louis pulled a screwdriver from his pocket, knelt in the coffin, attached the mechanism the proper way and fastened the screws. He laid back, closed the lid and tried the lock. David heard the bolt slide into place. Louis pushed on the lid from inside to test its strength. The bolt was slid back and the lid popped open.
"Done, monsieur." Louis stood and closed the lid. David only then noticed that Louis had thoughtfully removed his shoes before lying on the satin.
"That was quick, Louis." David said, impressed.
"I have developed some skill at it over the years." Louis re-pocketed his screwdriver.
"Really?" David gestured for Louis to sit beside him. "Have you always been mechanically inclined?"
"I suppose. I didn't have much chance to discover it as a mortal, but I needed to acquire the ability when I lived with Lestat."
"Oh?"
Louis lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Lestat tends to break things."
David laughed. "I see."
"After a while the servants began to get uneasy with so much damage occurring so often. It isn't common to patch walls nor replace doorknobs on a monthly basis. We began losing staff. Now it was fairly common knowledge in the French Quarter when a person would leave his or her position. Too many servants leaving the employ of the same man would begin to arouse suspicion. In order to keep our staff, I began repairing things myself. After a few months, I found I enjoyed it, and so I continued. It is much easier now with standard sizes and parts for everything."
David regarded Louis admiringly . "You continue to astonish me, Louis."
Louis momentarily flushed with pride, but then quickly looked down at the floor, so that David would not think him vain. "A child could do it, David. It isn't difficult."
"But it is an amazing adaptation."
Louis laughed, "David, you exaggerate. It is only a matter of following instructions. I don't use it that often really. Only when I am with another. When I am alone I allow my dwellings to fall apart around me."
"What compels you to be so modest of your achievements, Louis?"
"Modest?" Louis thought for a moment. "It isn't actually modesty, David. It is only that I try not to cultivate boastfulness or conceit. It is unbecoming to a gentleman, don't you think? I mean, there will always be Lestats of course." They both smiled. "But then he has such charm, he can get away with more egoism than most."
They were caught in each other's gaze. David considered kissing Louis. He considered doing even more, but he knew that they would both regret it. And so he simply gave Louis a small kiss on the cheek, which Louis returned.
"I am happy that you bought a coffin for yourself," David said.
"As long as you are happy, David," Louis laughed. "I'm not at all sure what I'll do with it now, though. I think I shall need to find another hiding place for it, other than the one I presently have. It was convenient to my little house, but that is hardly a consideration anymore."
"How do you decide where to hide a coffin?" David asked, pulling his legs up on his bed and leaning back on his hands.
"Oh, all of the logical considerations. Somewhere out of the way and untravelled, not likely to be disturbed by mortals. Somewhere that it can remain wholly undetected if possible. Of course tombs are always good choices, in that if a coffin is found it will arouse no suspicion and it is unlikely that one will be disturbed in the day. But then, it is a bit difficult to exit a tomb unnoticed, what with having to replace the marble and all. And, conversely, it is difficult to enter it quickly if the need arises. I find that abandoned buildings work well if a space is dug beneath the floor. As an extra precaution I generally purchase the property if at all possible, to prevent anyone deciding to knock it down around me."
"A coffin was once discovered as a part of a museum display, that was found to be a daytime resting place for a vampire, and apparently had been used for many years. Of course after the Talamasca began investigating it, the vampire never returned," David told him.
"Very clever. I would guess that it was Eric's." Louis obviously held Eric in high esteem for his creativity. "Where are you going to place yours?"
"As I intend to sleep in it, I thought I would keep it here, in my room," David said.
"I see." Louis nodded.
David noticed that Louis's eyes had begun to take on somewhat of a vacant stare, which he understood to be the very first signs of the of the death sleep descending. He checked his watch to see that it was four thirty a.m. David was just about to comment on this when Lestat walked through the doorway.
"Well, how do you like your new coffin, David?" Lestat found the whole thing somewhat amusing. Why anyone would choose to sleep in a box when a comfortable bed would do just as well, he could not fathom.
"Very much," David answered.
Lestat shook his head and sighed. "Well it is time for you to be crawling into it, Dracula. You too," he said to Louis.
"How did I ever survive with out you to inform me of the coming dawn, Lestat?" Louis asked.
Lestat bent down and leaned close to Louis, looking into his face. "Judging by the look in your eyes, I'd say by the skin of your teeth." Lestat kissed Louis's forehead. Then he pulled David to him and kissed him on the mouth. "See you tomorrow, David."
Louis kissed David's cheek and then stood and kissed Lestat. "Good day, gentlemen." He left David's room for his own.
Lestat closed the door. "Do you need any help breaking in that coffin, David?"
David smiled suggestively. "Well, I don't know that we will both fit."
"Let's find out." Lestat kicked off his shoes, skinned out of his clothes, flipped up the lid and jumped inside.
David disrobed and laid down gingerly atop him. After some wiggling, scrunching and settling in, David's arms were around Lestat's neck, Lestat's arms were around David's back. David had one leg between Lestat's and one to the right. They fit together like folded hands. Lestat brought the lid down. It pressed them a bit closer.
"Aaaahh, perfect," Lestat said. David was already asleep.
The next night Lestat awoke and with some effort, disentangled himself from David. He got out of the coffin and laid David on his back, putting the satin pillow beneath his head. Kissing him, he closed the lid.
The whole house was dark and quiet. Lestat unlocked Louis's door and entered to gaze at his fledgling. Louis's hair had grown out during the day, thank God. Lestat ran his fingers through it. He bent and kissed the cold lips. He resisted the urge to repeat the explorations he had undertaken that night in Rio. Instead he built a towering fence of books around, over and on top of Louis on the bed. When he woke up, he would know Lestat had done it, but it was a harmless prank, and sooner or later Louis would have his revenge. Besides, Louis had started it by buttoning all of his shirts together in 1818. Lestat laid a copy of The Pickwick Papers over Louis's face and proceeded downstairs.
Mojo was up and on him as soon as his foot hit the bottom stair. Lestat rolled around with Mojo for a good long time and then let him out into the enclosed courtyard. He made a note to get a dog door put in, so that his majesty could come and go as he pleased. He saw to it that Mojo's food and water bowls were clean and filled with fresh food and water. And then went to his new office.
He looked around appreciatively. He smiled at the thought of Louis having done it all and closed the door. He walked to the new computer, sat in the new chair, inserted a new desk and started his new book.
"The Vampire Lestat here. I have a story to tell you. It's about something that happened to me."
David was disoriented for moment when he found himself alone. But then he concentrated and could hear Lestat tapping at his computer downstairs. David rose, showered, dressed and went to knock at the office door.
"Care to join me for a hunt?"
"Not tonight, David. I'm writing." The tapping resumed.
'A bit diligent for Lestat. But Louis did say he was rather dedicated when writing.' David thought as he left to hunt alone.
David returned home to an unusual commotion. He followed the noise to the main bathroom.
"Hoooooooooooooooowl!"
"Mojo, silence."
Much whining.
"Shhhh, mon chiot. Calm down."
Splash!
"Bark! Bark bark! BARK!"
SPLOOSH!
"Oh, Mojo." A very heavy sigh.
David surmised that Louis was endeavoring to bathe the dog. Mojo, however, had apparently made other plans for the evening and was strenuously attempting to communicate this to Louis. David entered, inadvertently becoming an accessory to Mojo's escape plan. A damp furry streak flashed past his leg.
"MOJO!" Louis shouted, though it was obviously too late. He sat on the edge of the half-filled bathtub and put his head in his hands.
"Sorry, Louis," David said, not able to stifle a chuckle. "I'll catch him."
"Oh, it's alright, David. Leave him be." Louis looked up. "He's just gone back into the kitchen, to hide under the table. I'll retrieve him in a few minutes."
"Would you like some help with him?"
"Why? Are you not particularly fond of those clothes?" Louis smiled at him.
David smiled back and joined Louis on the tub. "I've had some experience with dogs."
"I certainly will not refuse you. I have had some experience with dogs as well, but not such - " Louis raised his voice, as if speaking so that Mojo could hear. " - stubborn, fearful and spoiled dogs as Mojo."
David shook with suppressed laughter. He rolled up his sleeves. He noticed that Louis had dressed for the occasion in jeans that probably were once black but now were a dark greyish color and a similar sweater that seemed to have been attacked by cats wielding rosebushes. As Louis turned to pour flea soap into the bath water and swirl it around, David saw that Louis had not taken time to cut his hair, but had pulled it back in a tight braid, which surprised David. Somehow Louis just didn't seem to be the sort of man to braid his hair. But it did keep the onyx strands held back and away from Louis's face, which was most likely a problem with such fine and silky hair. Wasn't Lestat always messing about with it? Probably feels like the satin lining in my coffin, and probably just as slippery.
"David?"
David realized he had been entirely too caught up in musings of Louis's hair, of all the silly things. "Sorry Louis, I was just, thinking about something. What did you say?"
"I am going to bring Mojo back in, alright?"
"Oh," David said. "Oh, yes, quite."
Louis nodded and headed off in the direction of the kitchen.
David looked around and noticed that there were at least a dozen large thick towels stacked on the closed lid of the toilet. He looked at the soap bottle Louis had been pouring from. He turned it and read the label.
Battles fleas, ticks and mites. Conditions skin and fur preventing mange and dandruff. Rose scented. Forty-eight dollars! David inspected the other bottles lining the sink. Moisturizing dog shampoo, fur conditioner -for a healthy shiny silky coat!, claw strengthener, paw lotion - 'the cure for rough dry pads', and canine toothpaste.
'And he thinks the dog is spoiled now?' David thought. There were three different kinds of pet brushes, claw clippers and a file, drops to prevent ear mites and pills to prevent intestinal parasites and heartworm. 'Good God, Louis, I didn't know I was in for such an elaborate production. Why not just laminate the poor dog , seal him in a glass bell and be done with it ?'
Louis came through the door holding Mojo cradled in his arms like a baby. He gracefully kicked the door closed behind him. Mojo barked once and tried to jerk himself out of Louis's hold. Louis gave him an extremely stern look. Mojo whined, but stopped struggling. David assumed some sort of agreement had been struck in the kitchen concerning just exactly whose plans were going to be carried out this evening. David was surprised that it had been accomplished without any violence or even shouting, as he would have heard it. Mojo had obviously accepted defeat but apparently had retained the right to sustained whining as a form of non-violent protest.
Louis set him on his paws in the tub. Mojo tentatively put one paw up on the rim of the bath tub. Louis looked at the paw and then looked at Mojo and raised one eyebrow. The paw was quickly withdrawn, but the whining became just a tone more pitiful. David decided that he would make a concentrated effort to never annoy Louis sufficiently to attract a raised eyebrow, as the consequences seemed to be dire.
"Would you mind holding him?" Louis asked David.
The usual soft gentle voice was unexpected. David had thought Louis would be at least irritated, if not quite angry by now. "Certainly." David put his arms around Mojo's middle. Mojo lifted very sad pleading puppy dog eyes to David. "I'm afraid that doesn't work with me, my boy."
Louis pushed up his sleeves, poured shampoo into his hands and lathered Mojo thoroughly with vampiric speed. He then rinsed him and did the same with the flea soap almost before Mojo had time to complain about the first time. Mojo tried one more leap for freedom, covering Louis, David and the bathroom floor with water and soap suds.
Chapter Six
Louis went to Mojo and shocked David by petting the dog and speaking softly to him in French, telling him not to be afraid and several other things that David did not quite catch. After a bit Mojo laid down on the floor and whined. Louis lifted him and put him back into the warm water.
Louis rinsed him and then let the water out of the tub as David applied the fur conditioner. Louis rinsed Mojo with clean water from the hand held shower head. David took the dog from the tub and laid him on one of the towels spread out on a dry patch of the bathroom floor. Louis rubbed him briskly with another. Mojo had stopped whining.
David clucked his tongue at the amount of fur left in the tub. "Mojo there is a whole other dog in there. Look at that."
Louis looked over the rim and laughed. "That must feel better, hmmm?" he asked Mojo.
Mojo declined to comment. A good sulk is not to be wasted.
Louis reached for the canine toothpaste and Mojo's toothbrush. David was certain that this would never fly, but refrained from telling Louis so. David took up position on the side of the dog, holding his body still and his head up.
Louis attempted to open Mojo's mouth. Mojo growled dangerously. Louis took his hand away. "Do you want all of your teeth to fall out?"
Mojo gave a bark which could only be interpreted as an affirmative.
"Well, I don't," Louis told him. He succeeded in prying the dog's mouth open and doing a fairly decent job of it.
Mojo threatened to tell Lestat, call a lawyer and contact the ASPCA, but to no avail.
Next was the pedicure. David tried his hand at this while Louis held Mojo. It wasn't nearly as difficult as David imagined it might be. Once his claws were clipped and filed, and the lotion worked well into his pads, Louis released him. He and David threw a few more towels on the floor and each gave Mojo and final rubdown. Then Louis switched on the heat lamps and the two of them made a quick exit.
"Well, I believe I'll need to wash away the effects of that bath." David said, pulling off his sopping shirt.
Louis laughed, "So shall I."
The both of them trudged up the stairs and retired to their respective bathrooms. After performing their own ablutions and changing into clean dry clothing they met again downstairs. Louis went to the bathroom and carried a nearly dry Mojo to the parlour. He put a very large towel on the floor and laid Mojo on it. David brought the brushes and they sat on either side of Mojo, brushing him.
"Do you think it is warm enough in here for him?" Louis asked David.
"I would say so, but I'll turn up the thermostat, it won't hurt anything. Where is it?"
"The far wall." Louis pointed toward it.
David walked over to the indicted wall but didn't see a thermostat. He searched it again. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." Louis looked up from Mojo, puzzled. "Oh, David, I am sorry. It is under the wall sconce."
David looked to the candleholder. It appeared to be flush against the wall. "This, you mean?"
"Yes, lift it from the bottom."
David put his fingers under the golden plate and found to his surprise a hollow square behind it with a thermostat setting inside. "How very clever!"
"Lestat was adamant about having all such modern things hidden."
"So that is why I haven't seen any telephones, except in the office," David said.
"I'll show you where they are once I've done with Mojo," Louis told him.
"No hurry," David said, coming back to brush Mojo again. "Someone has to keep this dog livable. God knows Lestat just lets him run wild."
"I am just worried that something will happen to him. He'll take ill or some such and Lestat would be crushed," Louis said.
Mojo yawned and laid on his back, exposing his underside, which meant, 'In my infinite mercy, I have forgiven you. Now scratch my belly.'
"Quelle beau chien," Louis cooed, obliging him.
"I doubt Lestat will even recognize him," David said. "That water was black as tea."
Louis smiled. "Oh, I am sure he will manage to be just as filthy by the time Lestat is taking notice of such things again."
"What do you mean?"
"He has started writing, didn't you notice?"
"Oh yes, but surely he'll come out sometimes," David said.
Louis shook his head. "Not until the book is finished. He will wake, hunt and write until dawn, at which time he may or may not return to his room for the day."
"How long will it be?"
"It varies."
"I see." David sighed.
"This is much better," Louis said, petting Mojo's coat, which true to the advertising, was clean, shiny and slightly rose scented. Louis collected the brushes and took them into the bathroom to clean them, and try to do something about the mess they had left.
When he returned to the parlour, Mojo was snoring happily and David had taken a seat on the divan. Apparently he'd found the remote control, as he had opened the doors to the hidden television and was watching CNN.
Louis soundlessly grabbed a book from the shelves that lined one wall and sat on the opposite end of the couch.
David hadn't even noticed him, so when he looked over, perhaps thirty minutes later, he was startled to see Louis sitting there. "Oh, Louis, I didn't hear you come in."
Louis looked up from his book. "I didn't want to disturb you."
David smiled. "You aren't a disturbance at all. Do you mind CNN?"
"Not at all, please watch what you wish, David."
"Do you follow the news?"
"I read the papers but I admit, quite a lot gets by me. Every time I encounter a map all of the place names have changed."
"I make it a point to follow the news and the same thing still happens to me, Louis."
Mojo stood, stretched and walked to Louis's chair, putting his front paws on Louis's legs.
Louis put his book down on a side table. "What Mojo?"
Mojo leapt into Louis's lap. Louis calmly put him back down on the floor. "Forgive me for pointing it out, Mojo, but you are not a lap dog."
Mojo laid at Louis's feet and quietly looked pathetic.
Louis was lured down to the floor and began petting Mojo, who attempted to kiss him in gratitude. Louis avoided the dog's tongue, but did kiss the dog between his ears. "Good boy."
David pretended not to see this canine manipulation.
Mojo had Louis pet him, rub his belly and eventually through some leaning, light head butts and gentle persuasion, Mojo got Louis's back against the couch and situated himself in Louis's lap, which was where he had wanted to be in the first place. If he could ever get a little cooperation around here he wouldn't lose near so much sleeping time.
David found that Louis had inadvertently sat himself right in front of him, between his legs to be precise. David noticed that Louis had not re-braided his hair. It was still a bit damp and curlier than usual. David noticed these things much more now than before. Partly it was due to his heightened vampiric senses, but his new body contributed as well. He still expected to see his pale seventy-six year old face and his thin grey hair in the mirror. It continued to shock him to encounter his caramel colored skin and thick brown head of hair instead, framing his unlined, unfamiliar face. He was still trying to memorize his own features and this led to a greater awareness of those around him. He had found himself following the curls in Lestat's hair, the shape of his eyebrow, the length of his eyelashes. And now he was doing the same with Louis. But they were both like great art. He discovered something new every time he looked at either of them.
David listen to the CNN newscaster describe the horrific conditions somewhere, due to something, and what someone thinks somebody should do about it. It didn't hold any interest for him tonight, and Louis was obviously ignoring it completely.
"Do you mind if I change channels?" David asked Louis.
"No, I don't," Louis said, his attention still on Mojo.
David took up the remote control and was curiously flipping through channels when he noticed Louis's head come up. David stopped and looked to see what had caught Louis's attention. It was two men in suits and ties have some sort of discussion.
"All in all, how does the season look for the Saints, Pat?"
"Well, if Mora the miracle worker can pull anything near the performance of the 1987 season out of them, they may come up even."
"Coming out of last season with an even 8 and 8, isn't there a chance for a winning season for the Saints?"
Both men began laughing, David thought he might have even heard the camera crew laughing as well.
"A what?"
David deduced it was some kind of sports broadcast, but he wasn't familiar with American sports or teams. Louis had a bit of a frown on his face, so apparently the news wasn't good. The broadcasters moved to another subject and Louis lost interest. Mojo walked to the kitchen to get a drink. David resumed looking through the channels, finally stopping on a documentary about the Titanic.
There were historians, families of victims and survivors, divers, sailors and various experts, each giving their views on the question of salvage. Should the Titanic be left as it rests, inviolable, as a tomb? Would it be more respectful to rescue the artifacts and display them in memorial, than allow them to eventually be buried on the sea floor, forgotten forever? What questions can be answered by raising the Titanic? Is it worth the time and expense? Would any attempt to raise the ship destroy the debris field, and isn't that more telling than the ship itself? Will anyone profit by it? Should anyone profit by it? What is ethical? What is moral? Whose decision should it be? To whom does the Titanic belong?
David pulled his legs up and stretched them out along the cushions. He put his elbow on the arm of the divan and leaned his head on it so that he could see Louis better. Louis was listening to the debate with a detached interest.
"What is your opinion, Louis? Display or decay?"
"I should think that if they bring up items for museums, there will be lawsuits from descendants."
"I don't know, isn't it finder's keepers under maritime law?"
"I confess that I am not familiar with it."
"Do you think that they should leave the wreckage, then?"
"Oh David, it seems so pointless either way, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean pointless? Perhaps there are many secrets still held by the artifacts."
"I only mean that if they do not excavate and remove objects, some other grave robbers will, especially as everyone knows now where the wreckage lies. Do the descendants feel that the memories of their ancestors would be better honored by millions of the morbidly curious parading past their luggage, dishes and other effects, or by slowly being buried beneath the sand and waste products of the ocean? The plain fact is that the Titanic's passengers died of hypothermia or drowning and their remains were eaten by sea creatures, just like millions of others who have been lost at sea. They are beyond caring one way or another. Unfortunately, through the skewed priorities of society, their deaths have rendered their property even more valuable than it was originally. Historians, family members and the like will weep and wail all they want, but greed will win out."
"I hope you never become cynical, Louis, because that would be a shame," David observed.
Louis laughed. "Cynicism is the acid sting of a blackened heart and a bitter soul."
"Is that so?" David asked, reaching to stroke Louis's hair. "Or is it the scar tissue of wounded innocence?"
Louis looked at David, then looked away. "I don't know what you mean."
David eased himself to the floor, beside Louis. "Louis, yes you do."
Louis looked back at him. "David, this . . . attraction between us . . . it cannot be."
"But it is, Louis. Denying it will not diminish it."
"David, I love Lestat."
"Louis, so do I."
"Then how can we feel this way?"
"Perhaps there isn't any explanation."
Louis watched David's face silently for a long while. "I know that I will never replace Lestat in your heart."
"Nor will I in yours. I know that as well."
"We understand each other then, David?"
"We do."
Louis was silent again for a time, pondering. "Then we cannot hurt each other."
"Not unless we ask nicely," David returned. It was a bold thing to say. The sort of thing he used to say in his youth, to shock a virginal lover.
Louis gave a short soundless laugh, and the smile stayed on his face. He leaned toward David, slipped his arm around the Englishman's back and slowly brought his mouth to touch David's. He brushed softly against those lips and then kissed them. David closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Louis sucked gently on his tongue. David pressed into the kiss. Louis put a hand to David's chest and eased the younger vampire down onto his back. David yielded to him. Louis kissed the warm tan skin of David's face and throat. David nuzzled into Louis's neck, but as Louis felt the very points of fangs against his skin, he drew back. He pushed himself up on his hands and looked down into David's eyes.
"I will not drink from you."
"I know," David nodded.
"And you will not drink from me."
David's eyes grew wider, he thought to protest, but knew he had no right. He couldn't prevent a small groan of longing and disappointment escape his throat.
Louis continued to look at him, his face serious, his eyes demanding.
"I will not drink from you," David finally whispered.
Louis nodded once, and then lowered himself back down to rest against David. He licked at David's skin. David pressed his body up against Louis. Louis responded, melding himself into David's curves and hollows. The held each other, rubbing, undulating, creating friction in one spot and relieving it in another. The sensitivity of their skin making any contact at all a sensuous and even sexual pleasure. David ran his tongue up Louis's throat. Louis bit David's earlobe, not breaking the skin. This sharp, unexpected point of pain made David gasp with pleasure.
"Davide," Louis whispered into David's ear, his accent thickening, transforming the name to a romantic endearment. It sent lovely chills through David's body.
David moved his leg beneath Louis's . He tried to raise his knee, to place it between Louis's legs and rub against his organ. Louis continued kissing him, but wouldn't open his legs. David tried again. Louis crossed his ankles and David heard a teasing laugh from behind the kissing lips.
"Oh, it's to be that way, is it?" David asked, with a grin. It had been a long time since he'd been up to a challenge. "Well," he whispered. "We'll see about that."
Louis gave a muffled giggle and rubbed himself across David's pelvis. David moaned and reached to pry Louis's legs apart with his hands. Louis wiggled out of his grasp, a sensation which David enjoyed immensely, then put his hand beneath David's shirt.
The mere brush of Louis's fingertips sent vibrations all through David's chest, which seemed to pulse through his nipples. The feeling was incredible. Louis continued his slow, feather light explorations, enlivening every inch of David's skin. He circled David's navel and then poked into it with one quick deep jab. It was like an electric shock. David arched his back and threw his head to the side.
"Again," David breathed.
But Louis kissed his nipple, over his shirt, and answered, "Non."
The noise that came from David was half laugh, half groan. Louis rubbed David's chest muscles. He moved himself lower and sat up on David's knees. He then ran his hands down David's sides, massaging his hips and thighs, purposely avoiding the heart of David's sex. David knew that he had never felt such sweet need as a mortal. As a mortal, all orgasm was centered on his wick, but now his entire body trembled with building desire, though his always erect organ was still most sensitive and was a definite point of sensation.
"Louis," David heard himself say, he couldn't have controlled his voice if he wanted to. "Louis, please."
Louis let himself fall forward, giving David a little jolt as the weight hit him, and then slithered down David's body. Reaching the feet, he popped up and soundlessly ran as fast as he could for the stairs. By the time David opened his eyes, Louis was halfway up.
'Mmmm, a chase,' David thought, as he quickly pursued him.
Louis ducked into a guest room which overlooked the courtyard, thinking that if need be, he could jump from the window without much danger of arousing the neighbors. But in a second, David was through the door and upon him with a growl. He threw Louis to the bed and pinned him. The green eyes danced up at him, surprised but not frightened. David was almost overcome with the desire to drink.
Louis saw the predatory look in David's eyes. He brought his knees up and kicked him as hard as he could. David fell off of the bed with a soft thump. Louis laughed and jumped up to leap across him and to the door.
But David was up far quicker than that. He grabbed Louis in mid-air and threw him over his shoulder.
Louis landed with a "Uhmph."
Then David laughed. He carried Louis into his own room and locked the door. Once more Louis found himself pinned to a bed.
"You are clever, Louis, and quick. I'll give you that."
Louis smiled. "Merci, David, and you are fast as well." He sat up and kissed David.
David let himself fall into the deep kiss, but kept his arms tightly around his prey. David caught Louis's wrists in one hand and held them over his head. Louis tested David's grip but didn't struggle when he felt David's strength. The escapes were only to heighten the passion, he wasn't trying to acquire any crushed bones.
"Now," David said, forcing his knee between Louis's legs. Louis gritted his teeth and clenched his muscles as tightly as he could, he wanted to know that he had prolonged the foreplay as long as was at all possible. But David had strength and leverage on his side. He easily maneuvered his knee into the crevasse and brought it up to rest just under Louis's manhood. Louis gasped and moaned at the contact. David had never heard a sound even close to this kind of desire come from Louis. It inflamed him even more.
He unbuttoned Louis's shirt and pulled it off of him. Louis cooperated, neither of them wanted ripped clothes or lost buttons. Then David unfastened Louis's jeans.
"Wait. Not yet," Louis said quickly.
David laughed loudly and bounced his knee against Louis's most sensitive spot a few times. "When you are the one holding me down, then you may say when. But," David pulled down Louis's zipper and reached inside. Louis cried out in pleasure. "When I am the one holding you, I make the rules." David lowered his face to Louis's. "Understand?"
Louis eyes held lust, fear, excitement, pain, need. "Yes, David."
"Very well." David kissed him. Then he sat and removed his own clothing. He finished pulling Louis's pants off, finding with delighted surprise that Louis wore no underclothing.
Louis slid down beneath him and sucked at David's nipples. David pulled the Creole vampire back up and crushed himself down upon him. Their skin tingled and throbbed. David buried his face in Louis's silken hair. Louis writhed beneath and David writhed above. They pushed and pulled at each other. They kissed and licked and massaged and pinched. It felt better and better. It built for nearly two hours. The agony was delicious.
Abruptly David took a strong hold of Louis and flipped him onto his stomach. Louis was shocked for a moment and fought to turn over. A sharp slap to his derriere brought him back to the moment and David. He relaxed as David began kissing his neck. He smiled as David continued down his spine.
David filled his hands with Louis's rounded flesh. He licked the soft indent at the tops of the thighs. He was sweating. He would swear that his erection had grown larger and thicker, but he knew that it hadn't. The blood pounded up and down his body, out to every fingertip and toe. Louis was quivering beneath him. He lifted Louis's hips. Louis didn't seem to know how to proceed.
"Pull your knees up, love." David guided him gently. Louis did so. David rubbed into the warm cleft. He saw Louis's back muscles relax. He pushed at the hard muscle-ringed opening. Louis gave a high pitched gasp. David kissed his back and then drove in fast, deep and violent. Louis was caught off guard and tightened around him, trying to push him out. It was delicious. David laughed a deep pleasured laugh.
Louis was rocking with every thrust, driven by David's rhythm, but feeling his heartbeat in his groin. The pounding there, matched with the repeated impaling from behind mingled and washed feeling through him, leaving his legs weak and his mind blank to all but the pleasure.
David pursued his pleasure. Gripping Louis's hips, he thrust faster and faster until it felt as if he might explode, not just the old mortal feeling of orgasm which threatened to blast through the organ, but a vampiric, whole body, experience of overwhelming release.
It came for them both, simultaneously. They tensed, every muscle, even their eyelids, tight with the building pressure, and then a release from the tip of the organ outward, frenzied rapture that shook their bodies for at least fifteen minutes before releasing them to a tranquil afterglow.
David, pulled out of Louis and rolled over beside him. Louis pulled himself up onto his side and they lay exhausted and panting in each other's arms.
They had not had the ultimate pleasure, the bloodsharing. But this was a fulfillment of sorts, in its own way.
Louis curled himself around David's body and fell into a peaceful mortal sleep. David cuddled close to him and closed his eyes for just a moment.
He awoke three hours later, alone. Louis had left a note. It was cordial and informal, but not a lover's note. It was a message for a friend.
David,
That was very enjoyable.
I look forward to the next time.
I hope you will forgive me for leaving before you woke,
but I must hunt.
Louis
David almost collapsed with relief. He should have expected that Louis would know just how to handle this, as he seemed to know how to behave in every situation. David didn't know what he would have done if he had read some sort of "Oh Darling, it was heaven. The earth moved. La la la, etc." This was going to work out. This was going to work out well.
David showered and changed his sheets. The sweat stains were tinged a bit pink but not enough to arouse suspicion, so he threw them down the laundry chute. Lestat had arranged through an agent to hire a day staff while they were in Rio. It made David a bit nervous to think of mortals being in the house while they slept, but it didn't seem to bother Louis and Lestat at all. David supposed that they must be very used to the situation from their previous years together.
David dressed and went downstairs. Lestat was still tapping away at his computer. David wondered if he knew what had happened.
'He must not, or he would have come busting in either ready to kill or demanding to join.' David decided. He checked the clock, 2:30 am, two hours until dawn.
'Louis should be home soon.' Just as that thought formed, Mojo went running to the front door, and he heard Louis enter.
"Hello Mojo! My, what a clean boy you are, yes!"
David heard Louis close the door and come up the hall. He tensed, wondering what he would say. Louis entered the room, and handed him a newspaper.
"I thought you might like the London paper. Lestat isn't subscribing to it at the moment."
David was put at ease immediately. "Thank you, Louis. How thoughtful."
Louis was a very healthy color, and David could feel the warmth in his skin. "Not at all," Louis answered.
David thought of asking where he'd hunted, but decided right away that it would be a rude question. Instead he turned to the old standby, weather. "Did you notice if it was going to rain?"
"Yes, it is forecasted."
"Should we ask the day staff not to let Mojo out?"
Louis looked up from his Times-Picayune. "That is a consideration, isn't it? But he must go out. I'll leave a note for them to dry him off if he gets wet."
"And clean the mud from his paws." David added.
Louis nodded. He went to his desk and wrote the note, leaving it then on the kitchen table. He returned to the parlour and they read their respective papers in a companionable silence. Once finished, Louis folded his and put it into a plastic box marked 'Recycle'. "Well, David, I must retire for the day, if you'll excuse me?"
"Of course, rest well." David answered.
Louis bent and kissed his cheek, "And the same to you."
David returned the kiss, then watched his friend walk down the hallway to Lestat's office. Louis rapped softly on the door. "Bonjour, Lestat."
There was no answer. This didn't seem to bother Louis. Perhaps he hadn't been expecting one. He then ascended the stairs to his room.
The next night Lestat awoke with his story in his mind. He had written four chapters, the previous night, all the way through his suicide attempt in the Gobi. He rose from the floor and immediately began typing.
It was striking midnight when I reached Talbot Manor.
He didn't think of hunting. He didn't think of Mojo. He didn't think of his fledglings. He wasn't in his town house in the Rue Royale. He was in the middle of an English winter, with his still burnt skin. He was going to David, who was still mortal, still 76, still so very near death. He typed and the words flowed out of him in a torrent. He didn't sense the passage of time. He didn't feel any cramps in his fingers or his back. He continued re-living his story as he poured it into his computer, until dawn, when he collapsed once again on the floor. The same as he had done the night before. The same as he would every night until the tale was told.
Chapter Seven
Desiree Glapion and Coco Robicheaux arrived at Royal Street at 8 am. Mojo greeted them with enthusiasm.
"Somebody done give you a bath, huh? 'Bout time." Desiree went into the kitchen, with Mojo at her heels. She took the box of dog snacks from the cabinet and threw him one.
Coco followed her, carrying a case of Pepsi. She put it into the refrigerator. "I'm gonna start on da dusting. You wanna do da laundry?"
"Yeah, t'row me a Pepsi. Hey, dere's a note on da table." Desiree unfolded the paper.
"Read it out."
"Mademoiselles Glapion and Robicheaux, if Mojo must go out in the rain, please dry him thoroughly and see that his paws are clean. Thank you, L. Pointedulac."Desiree looked down to Mojo and laughed. "Damn! You da SPOILTEST dog I ever heard tell of!"
Coco took the note. "L. Pointedulac. Is he da cute one?"
"Chere, dey ALL da cute one."
"Which one is he in da pictures?" Coco walked into the parlour to look at the frames on the mantlepiece.
Desiree followed her. "Okay, dis one dat says 'Me' on da bottom. Did ain't his handwriting. So he not da blond one. What's dat one say?"
"Just says 'LL and LP' and under dat, 'Miami'," Coco said. "And 'LL' is 'Me' so dis is 'LP'."
"He got some black black hair, don't he?" Desiree observed.
"Mmm hmm, and some white white skin. He must be da one wit' da condition."
"I guess, poor t'ing." Desiree replaced the pictures on the mantle. "Okay, I'm goin' to start da laundry."
Coco watched her go down stairs. She took up the polish and cloths and began in the upper hall. Desiree emptied and washed Mojo's dishes as the washing machine went through it's cycle. After she put the first load into the dryer and loaded a second in the washer, she began vacuuming. All that accomplished, and Mojo let out and back in and out and back in again, they began cleaning the windows, mirrors and various ceramics, vases and general brick-a-brack. When they reached the mantle, they took up their discussion of the subjects.
"Look at him, Des. You know I love me a blond man."
"Yeah, but dis one just so . . .serious. I wanna take him in my arms and cuddle him up." She gave an almost love-sick sigh. "I bet has a pretty smile."
"Maybe, but I KNOW he got a pretty smile." Coco said, taking up a picture of Lestat. "Look at dat man. He'd light up a whole room. And Desiree, LOOK at dat butt!"
Desiree laughed, "Coco, dat's all you care 'bout!"
"If a man's got a nice ass. He don't need nothin' else."
"What a sexist t'ing ta say!" Desiree looked at another picture of Louis. "Look at dem green eyes."
"I swear, if you saw green eyes on a duck, you'd fall in love wit' it."
The timer went off in the laundry room. They brought up the baskets of dry laundry up to the parlour and turned on the television to sit and fold.
"It's 'bout noon, I'm gonna get me a samwich, you want one?" Coco asked.
"We outta dat turkey yet?"
"Don't matter, dey left us another fifty bucks to make groceries wit'."
"Maybe dey're some kinda mental patients," Desiree said.
"Mental patients ain't got dis kinda money."
"Why would you give money to somebody to make groceries, whatever dey want, and keep 'em in YOUR refrigerator, and then you never even eat none of it?" Desiree puzzled.
"Don't t'ink 'bout it so much. You t'ink too much 'bout a good t'ing, chere, next you know it's gone. You wanna samwich or what?"
"Yeah."
They sat and ate lunch, folded the laundry, put it away, got the mail, separated it into the in-boxes and then began on the bathrooms and kitchen.
That done, they took Mojo out into the courtyard with them and enjoyed the garden.
"What days dat gardener s'posed ta come?" Coco asked, fingering a vine of Queen's Wreath.
"Tuesdays and Fridays." Desiree answered, as she scratched Mojo's ears.
The fresh flowers arrived at 2:30. They went through the house replacing all of the flowers with the fresh ones. Then they put the paper on Louis's desk, watered all of the plants, took out all of the garbage and locked up the house. Their day was over.
They were paid well, obscenely well, $100 a day, after taxes. They had medical and dental plans, life insurance, unlimited paid sick, personal and vacation days and they had all holidays off, also paid, including Lundi Gras, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday and all of Jazzfest. And all this to clean a house that barely ever got dirty and take care of a dog who slept most of the day.
The only restrictions were that they were never to have anyone else in the house, never open a locked door, could not arrive before 8 am, and must leave by 3 pm.
Besides the cleaning, they were there to take deliveries, make certain the outgoing mail was posted, be there to admit the gardener and piano tuner, and any other workmen, such as plumbers or electricians, who would need entry.
By their second week, the gardener, Andre O'Brien, began coming every day as well. He had taken on the responsibility of keeping the cars and motorcycle washed, waxed, running smoothly and always full of fuel. He also took Mojo to the vet, when necessary.
By the fourth week, an odd thing happened. There was a note to clean the three upstairs rooms that had always been locked and the bathrooms adjoining them. They all three rushed up the stairs to see the mystery rooms.
"Andre, you ain't got no bidness up dere!" Coco said, as he passed her, taking three stairsteps at a time.
"If you t'ink I'm NOT goin' up dere, you crazy!" He shot back.
One room was dark, with ornately carved furniture and dark red walls. There was a small crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and several candle holders around the room. The artwork was in rich vibrant colors. The full tester bed was draped with white mosquito netting, though the window was obviously sealed. There were bookshelves filled to bursting, and piles of books on the floor. The bathroom was black and green with silver fixtures. There was a small mirror above the sink, and an antique full length mirror stood in the bedroom.
The largest room was brighter and far more cluttered. The walls were a bright blue. The bed was at least king size, if not larger, covered with a gold and blur velvet coverlet. There were tables and chairs, bookcases, dressers, night tables and a bureau, all in a golden wood. There were two free standing mirrors and a mirror over the dresser. The carpet was light blue, deep and soft. The bathroom was white marble and blue enameled tiles, and everywhere the gleam of gold. Gold fixtures and light holders, smaller gold framed mirrors over the sink and a full length mirror on the door.
The third suite was more exotic. Purples and brass, feathers and silk, sumptious and foreign. The large brass bed had a purple silken canopy. There was a huge brass chest at the foot of the bed. There were wooden dressers with brass fittings and a full length brass mirror. There was a vase of peacock feathers, a tigerskin rug, and strange things like a leather bag filled with animal claws, vials of powders and dust, fetishes of fur, feathers and what seemed to be dried blood.
"It's voodoo." Desiree said.
"Or something close to it." Andre opened the closet to see a long string of garlic hanging inside. Entwined with the garlic was a golden rosary, there was a sign tied to it.
"Beware! Nosferatu!"
"Hey, Des!" Coco laughed, "It's your boyfriend's handwriting."
"You t'ink dis his room?" Desiree asked.
"Uh-uh, dere's a big T monogrammed on dis robe." Andre showed her the burgundy velvet.
"Da towels in dat green bathroom have Ls and Ps on 'em." Coco said. "Dat's his room."
They went to work, cleaning the rooms. The next night those rooms were locked again. Every week they would be unlocked to be cleaned. Sometimes other rooms would be locked those nights, sometimes not. Though they had all signed a contract never to reveal anything they ever saw in the house, this was the only odd thing that ever went on.
Louis woke and descended the stairs. He petted Mojo and sat at his desk to read the paper. He could hear Lestat typing in his office, as he had been for the past seven weeks. He looked down to see a note from David on his paper.
Louis,
I will return by 9:00 pm. I leave it to you -
movie or opera tonight?
David
Louis checked his watch, 6:14, he had hours before the verdict was due. He went to the office and knocked at the door. He heard a deep irritated sigh from inside and the typing stopped.
"Louis, I am in the middle of revisions, what do you want?"
"May I come in?"
Another sigh. "Alright."
He opened the door. He was happy to see that Lestat had fed, his tan was darker. "I wondered if you needed anything."
"You couldn't have asked me that through the door?!"
"I wanted to see you."
"You've SEEN me!"
"Yes, well . . .you don't need anything, then?"
"NO!"
Louis nodded and quickly closed the door. He was stung by the tone Lestat took with him, but he was always irritable when he was writing. He should consider himself lucky that Lestat had acknowledged him at all. He tried to shrug it off.
Louis went into the front parlour and switched on the television set. Mojo jumped up and Louis allowed the dog to settle himself in his lap. He knew he shouldn't, but no one else was there to see it, and he liked the feel of it. He needed the weight and the warmth of Mojo against him just now. He petted the dog and they watched the second half of MRS. MINIVER, on one of the old movie channels. When it had ended, he found that Mojo had fallen asleep in his lap, and he hated to disturb him. So he found himself watching PENNY SERENADE. The film followed the main characters as they met, married, faced various troubles and triumphs, adopt a baby daughter and raise her for five years until she dies, suddenly and tragically, on Christmas Eve.
David returned to find Louis lying on the couch, crying his eyes out. He used the barest amount of mind reading and simple observation to determine that it was the television and memories affecting Louis, and not any terrible occurrence. David went to the couch and put his arms around Louis so swiftly that he seemed to appear from thin air.
"It's alright, Louis." David kissed his hair. "Alright now."
"Oh, David!" Louis was surprised. He started laughing, but he hadn't stopped crying, and so it was a bit muddled. "I'm sorry. I am fine, really." He wiped his eyes. "It's only the silly film. I am sorry. It's nothing."
David smiled at him. "Shhh, I know. I know. Often times films will move me to tears as well. Don't be embarrassed."
Louis shook his head at himself and relaxed against David. He only then realized that Mojo had abandoned his lap, probably sometime in the middle of the film. Louis took a few deep breaths, stopped his tears and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
The credits were rolling. David shifted Louis to his lap.
"David, please, thank you but I-"
"You're beautiful in tears." David said, half teasingly, kissing Louis's mouth. Looking just a bit deeper into Louis's mind, David saw Lestat's earlier nastiness.
Louis kissed back, but laughed at the remark. David put his hand under Louis's shirt.
"Don't you want to know if I decided on the movie or the opera?"
David shook his head.
David began roughly rubbing Louis's nipples. Louis swallowed. He leaned forward and kissed David. He combed his hands through the thick, soft, golden brown hair. David's skin was warm, he had fed well.
"Let us go upstairs." Louis whispered into David's ear.
"Yes, love."
Louis stood and took David by the hand, leading him to his room. Once there, Louis closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door and folded his arms. David stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. They regarded each other appreciatively for a moment.
They both walked forward into a kiss. Louis pulled David's shirt free from his trousers and slid his hands up David's back. David dropped his head to Louis's shoulder and kissed his neck. Louis pulled his nails down David's back. David moaned in pleasure. David pulled Louis's shirt off of him. Louis tucked his hands inside the waist band of David's briefs. David unbuttoned his trousers and lowered the zipper. Louis helped him to slip out of his pants. Louis kissed David's hip and then ran his tongue along the crease where the thigh met the torso. David took a long shivering breath. Louis continued, bestowing light cool kisses to David's inner thigh. David's knees grew weak , he looked around for something to take hold of, to keep him upright but there was nothing close enough for him to grab.
"Oh God, Louis." David managed to gasp. Louis ignored his obvious predicament. David felt silky hair brush his organ. He felt a wet lick against his scrotum. Suddenly he felt a pull, a hard pull, as Louis engulfed him. "Ah!" David cried out, his legs were shaking hard, he thought he might collapse on top of Louis. "Louis! Oh, God, stop! I. . .my head is spinning. I cannot stand!" Louis ignored this as well. David felt his right gland sucked into the warm, moist cavern. His knees gave out. He found himself off balance, half sitting, half kneeling, one knee hooked over Louis's shoulder. Spasms of pain and pleasure were going through his legs, up his chest, chasing the air from his lungs and crashing into his head. He grabbed Louis's shoulders for balance. Louis was expertly tonguing a trail to the tip of David's organ, leaving David to deal with his precarious position. David had just gotten a bit of control and was braced, leaning with his hands on Louis's shoulders and one foot on the floor when he felt Louis's thumb invade his passage. "Oh, oh god!" It felt so good he thought he might faint. He let go of Louis's shoulder with one hand, to reach and remove the thumb before he collapsed from it, when Louis shifted to the other side, forcing David to grab hold of him again, or fall to the ground. Falling to the floor however was not an option with a very important limb locked within Louis's mouth, and no sign of it being released should David fall.
Louis reached and grasped David's hands in his own. He released David from his mouth and kissed his stomach. Louis moved out from between David's legs and allowed him drop to a sitting position. David sat on the hard wood floor, still shaking with little shocks of orgasmic energy.
Louis stood before him and slowly unzipped his jeans. David opened his mouth to speak, but could not. Louis let the denim fall to the ground and stepped out of it. He stood over David and removed David's shirt. David looked up at him. He was nearly in shock from the abrupt ending of such overwhelming sensations. Louis helped him to his feet and led him to his bed, parting the filmy mosquito netting to roll David on to his mattress. Louis took David in his arms and held him close, rubbing his arms and his back, until David's breathing returned to normal. When it had, Louis lifted David's chin and looked into his eyes with concern.
"I'm alright." David answered before he could ask. "I have just never experienced such a thing as that. Just when it would seem that the fear of falling would overcome the pleasure, it seemed to meld with it and make the pleasure even more irresistible. That was . . . oh , beyond . . .I don't know. It was incredible."
Louis smiled and kissed his forehead. "Merci."
"No," David laughed, breathlessly. "I believe it is my privilege to thank you."
Louis ducked his head shyly and held David tighter. He rubbed his cheek against the smooth caramel skin of David's shoulder.
David stretched to his full height and encircled Louis in his arms. He kissed his sweet tender lips and took Louis's face in his hands, looking searchingly into the deep green eyes with wonder. "You have such strength, Louis, such unconquerable silent strength. Where does it come from?"
Louis thought for a moment. "Acceptance. I accept who I am and what I have become. I accept what I must do and I do not romanticize it, nor seek to make it what it is not. I am still myself, though I cannot walk in the light of day. I can see and experience things in a far better, far superior way than mortals, but I am still an earthbound creature. I do not forget that I was born a mortal, and killing mortals is murder.
"I take other's lives to sustain my own, and in taking that sustenance I experience an intellectual, emotional and sensual ecstasy that is unparalleled and irresistible. In taking their lives, I experience life in a way that is supernatural and transcendent. I enjoy it. I crave it and I have not ever and will not ever willingly stop. And I could. I know that I could. I could bury myself until I become too weak to rise, I could immolate myself, I could step into the sun, but I do not. Regardless of my reasons for this, I accept that the fact of it is that I willingly remain a murderer.
" I am not a god, I am not a demon, but I am a vampire. I accept what that means. But in accepting that, I do not obliterate myself. I am not only a vampire. That is my condition, not my identity. I am still Louis de Pointe du Lac, though there is no Pointe du Lac." Louis smiled. "I have the same parents, though they are dead. New Orleans is still my home, though I have traveled and in returning found it to be much changed. I speak Creole French and accented English, though both are obsolete in New Orleans. I do not do these things in an attempt to cling to my mortal life. I do these things because I am myself; it is my name, it is my home, it is the way I speak.
"I have grown, of course. I was born in 1766 and lived day and night until 1791, but my life did not stop then. I have awoken and lived every night since. I can drive an automobile, I love film, I do read the newspapers and comprehend what they say, at least as well as most mortals. I am not bewildered by the modern world because this is my world. I do not throw myself into participation in the modern world, because I enjoy serenity and quiet pursuits, and also because the world is peopled with my prey. The cat does not live in the mouse-hole."
"I see," David said. He had moved his hands from Louis's face, pulling him close, but he could not, and did not want to look away from Louis's expressive and soulful eyes. Gently he continued, "And yet the guilt, the living in a house which falls apart around you, the awkwardness and prudishness in public, what is all of this? I do not understand."
"I am not perfect, David. Those things are a part of me, also. I had many bad habits and unattractive qualities as a mortal and in my time I have acquired many more." Louis smiled. "I accept the guilt as I accept the murder. I do not always take care of myself or my surroundings. My sensibilities are far removed from modern morals and standards, I know, but it does not shock me to see others behaving in a way that is normal for them. It is only that I am uncomfortable exhibiting immodesty." Louis glanced meaningfully down at his own body and David's. "At least in public."
They both laughed. They curled around each other, entwining their arms and legs. The dawn was coming and Louis's eyes were already closing. David felt Louis fall into the death sleep, allowing himself to be helpless in David's arms. The trust and the surrender in that simple act humbled him almost unbearably. He thought of Lestat, to whom Louis had first given this gift, and he finally understood completely Lestat's fierce devotion to Louis and his determination to protect Louis from all things, including Louis himself. David felt complete comprehension of Lestat as a savage protectiveness toward this precious green-eyed seraph washed through him as well.
David opened his eyes at dusk, with Louis still unconscious in his embrace. David slipped his arms out and rubbed them, they were unusually cold. David got out of Louis's bed and dressed. He went to his room to get fresh clothing and a sweater, thinking distractedly about the cold. There was something wrong.
' My God, it is Louis!' David rushed back to Louis's room and put his hands against the pale skin. Louis was a sculpture of ice. 'Bloody Hell! He didn't go out! He has had no blood since the night before last!'
David paced the room with a confusion of panicked thoughts running in his mind. 'Will he be alright? Has he starved himself? Is one night without blood enough to truly hurt him? In his book he speaks of vampires locked away without blood for years, but then how old were they? Will he wake as usual? Should I try and wake him? Should I procure a victim for him so that he can feed as soon as he wakes? It is less than hour until the time that Louis usually wakes. Should I wait until then? Am I in terror over nothing?' David walked back to the bed. Louis skin, which had already begun fading from the tan his unfortunate burn had left him, was now white as a ghost. David turned Louis's face toward him. The cheeks were sunken, there seemed to be shadows beneath the eyelids and even around the mouth. The David could see that the bones of Louis face and chest protruded sharply. 'Oh Lord no, this isn't right. What shall I do? I can hear Lestat tapping away downstairs already. Should I inform him? Ask him what would be best? Would Lestat know? Lestat will be angry. Angry with me or angry with Louis? Both probably.' David walked in circles, nervous and unsure. He was hungry. Of course he would not leave Louis. He sat on the bed.
"Goddamn it, Louis! Aren't you old enough to know better than this?" David said aloud in anger and anxious frustration and even fear. He took Louis in his arms. He rubbed the cold skin. He wrapped the blankets around Louis and held him. He fretted in turmoil until finally Louis began to stir.
Louis blinked and turned his head toward David. "Bonsoir," he said weakly.
"You didn't feed last night." David said accusatorily.
Louis tried to sit up, but David had him tightly cocooned in blankets and firmly ensconced in his lap. He looked up at David with a slight grin. "It must have slipped my mind."
"Louis! This isn't a joke! I have been frantic that you would not wake at all!" David was working himself well into a rage.
"David, please, calm yourself. I am sorry. Sometimes this happens. I am alright, I simply need to go and feed now."
"I should say so!" David agreed with vehemence. He quickly unwrapped Louis and helped him out of the blankets.
Louis was momentarily embarrassed to be completely exposed in front of David. In the middle of passionate play, one wasn't so aware of such things. Stark naked with an audience, first thing upon waking, was something else all together. He looked for his jeans and quickly pulled them on, nearly losing his balance due to his being undernourished. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it. David was suddenly behind him, helping him into his shirt.
"Come let's go." David said brusquely. He opened the window and then took hold of Louis.
"No, David." Louis said, calmly removing David's hands.
"Louis-"
Louis put up a hand to silence him. "David, I understand that you are upset. Yes, I am a bit weaker than usual, but I am perfectly capable of hunting by myself."
"Louis, this is no time for foolish pride!" David said in a condescendingly irritated voice. "Let me help you!"
"David I do not require it." Louis said, coldly. He turned and walked a bit unsteadily to the door. He opened it and descended the steps with David determinedly at his heels. Louis reached the front door and turned to David. "I will return shortly."
"Louis, please, let me accompany you, at least!" David took Louis's arm.
Louis smiled, though there was annoyance in his eyes. "David, you are being extremely disrespectful to your elder."
David exhaled loudly in exasperation. "Louis! You are being a damn stubborn idiot!"
Louis stopped smiling and pulled out of David's grip. Calmly, but with a controlled hostility Louis said, "Child, I have been a vampire for over 200 years. You have been a vampire for not even one. Your expertise in the subject is sorely lacking, and your advice is not needed. Do you understand?"
David was taken aback by the venom in Louis's voice. Chastened, he nodded.
"You should go and feed yourself." Louis turned and walked out the door.
Chapter Eight
David fed quickly and returned. He searched for Louis telepathically and found him near Armstrong Park. Louis had closed his thoughts to the best of his ability, and David didn't pry. He truly regretted the high tone he had taken with Louis. He worried until Louis returned. He was relieved to see the color in Louis's face.
"David." Louis nodded to him as he handed him a London Times.
"Louis," David followed him into the parlour. "I must apologize. I was . . . . . overwrought."
"You should be careful of acquiring Lestat's bad habits," Louis said, sitting at his desk and opening his Times-Picayune. His tone was certainly polite, but not particularly friendly.
"I will be more vigilant in future. I really didn't mean to offend you." David said sincerely.
Louis waved this off without looking up from his paper.
David sat on the sofa and chewed his lip. He had been very rude and pushy, he knew it. He had tried to treat Louis as Lestat did, like a child. He had plainly forgotten his place. Louis had very kindly been treating him as an equal, giving him the respect of a peer, which he was not and had not earned. And he had taken advantage of that and tried to act superior. He was ashamed of himself. Louis had opened his home, his life and his heart to him, though Louis had no reason to do so. And this was how David had repaid him.
David looked to the desk. Louis was holding himself stiffly upright, in perfect posture, and turning the pages of the newspaper so quietly that David could barely hear the rustle. Louis's face was completely expressionless. David was miserable.
Louis was pretending to read the paper while mentally berating himself for having put himself in that situation. He should have fed. What was he thinking? And David, he could hardly blame him for his authoritative air. After all, David had witnessed him childishly bickering with Lestat. David noticed how he allowed Lestat to treat him. David knew that he and Lestat were not lovers, and at the slightest suggestion he had thrown himself at David like a cheap whore. Just last night he had been weeping at a film like some insipid schoolgirl. Of course David regarded him as weak and pathetic. Of course David had no respect for him, how could he? Christ, it was humiliating.
"VOILA!" Lestat bounded into the parlour, brandishing printed pages. "I have finished the next New York Times, #1 bestseller! Who wants to read it first?"
David was off of the sofa in a split second, hugging Lestat and congratulating him. "Well done! I hope you gave yourself plenty of heroic moments."
"But David, ALL of my moments are heroic! Here David, you read it first." Lestat handed him the manuscript. "You read much faster than Louis, and I don't want you to have to wait until Christmas to behold my genius."
This off-hand teasing had an unexpected and unusually violent result. Louis stood and threw the paper down, glaring at Lestat and David and saying in a voice which was clear and quiet, yet filled with hate, "You can both fuck yourselves." Then he was gone through the kitchen door.
"What in hell was that about?" Lestat asked David, after he recovered from nearly three full minutes of shocked silence.
"Oh . . . I . . ." David shrugged. "It has been an eventful night."
Lestat folded his arms. "What do you mean by that?"
David sighed and sat down, Lestat sat beside him. "I am afraid I insulted him this evening."
Lestat's jaw tightened. "Go on."
"He missed feeding last night and so this evening I was insisting that he go with me, and I am afraid I was a bit patronizing to him."
"What do you mean he 'missed feeding' last night?"
"Well, I suppose he got involved with something else." David pushed his thick hair off of his forehead.
"WHAT else?" Lestat demanded.
"Look, Lestat-"
"No, David, YOU look, I want to know what has happened to Louis and I want to know now!"
"Lestat, Louis will be fine. Let me read your manuscript." David opened the bound pages.
Lestat ripped them from his hands, and threw it to the floor. The pages came loose and scattered over the room. "Tell me where he is!"
"What?" David was startled.
"You can find him! Tell me where he is!"
"Alright, alright, be still and let me think." David took a deep breath and let it out, then closed his eyes. "He is walking . . .still in the city . . .cemetery . . ." David opened his eyes, "Saint Louis Number One."
"Thank you David," Lestat said. He looked around at the unbound pages and then back to David's stricken face. "Listen, my friend, I am sorry. But you don't know Louis like I do. This is very serious. There is something terribly, terribly wrong with him to act like that." Lestat kissed David. "Please understand."
David gave him a small smile. "I do."
Lestat nodded and went out the door.
Louis was sitting in the narrow space between two tombs, looking up at his own.
Louis de Pointe du Lac
1766-1794
'Twenty-eight years. Three of them not even mortal. And now what, two hundred and twenty-three? Or will be at my next birthday. Birthdays, how long has it been since I celebrated a birthday? Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, and what has become of me? Am I anyone at all? Am I still myself? Was everything I told David last night lies? Have I been lying to myself? Am I the same man who ran Pointe du Lac or is he dead and gone forever? No one knows anymore. Lestat, perhaps, if he glimpsed me in the blood, the real me, the man I was before Paul's death. The man who attended parties and balls, deliberately sought the companionship of others. Who was that man? That boy? That child? But I was strong then. Head of the family, master of the plantations, gentleman in society. I was never pathetic. No one ever pitied me or protected me. How have I let myself become this rag doll, tossed by the winds of Lestat's moods and buffeted by the waves of David's opinions? Good God, am I that desperate for company?'
"Hello my Beautiful One, is this seat taken?"
Louis looked up into the most gorgeous face under God. "Lestat?"
Lestat sank down beside him and looked up at Louis's tomb. "Paying respects?" He made certain that his voice was soft and without a hint of mockery.
"Something like that."
Lestat nodded. After a long pause, he ventured, "Something happened tonight."
"You finished your book." Louis answered, looking back at his tomb.
"Something happened to you, Louis."
Louis did not acknowledge this.
"David said you didn't feed last night."
Louis remained silent.
"David said he insulted you." Lestat took a breath. "I insulted you too, last night when you came to see me."
"You were working." Louis said neutrally.
"I shouldn't have been so short with you."
"It doesn't matter."
"Louis, I have missed you very much."
Louis nodded his thanks.
"Do you remember the last time we were in the Cathedral, and you told me that each risk I take hurts you? Do you remember that?"
"Of course."
"And you said you had suffered in my absence, you said it was pure hell, remember?"
"I do. Why?"
"Because I want you to know that I feel the same. I was just writing that down this evening, what we said, and I realized that I didn't tell you, and I should have."
"I believe you had other things on your mind."
"I really do know why you didn't help me."
"But you don't forgive me for it."
Lestat laughed, "I will. I just haven't gotten the full use of it yet."
"I see," Louis smiled softly.
"I wasn't myself then."
"Yes, so you said. . . .You also said that someday, when we were warm and comfortable together again, you would tell me of it. Did you put that in your book?"
"Yes, I did."
Louis looked at him a long moment, "Do you think we ever will be warm and comfortable together again?"
"But of course we will, Louis, of course we will. There really hasn't been time. I mean there was the concert, then the abduction, and then there were so many of us together and I was writing and it was just impossible. In London, I think were both too nervous and we just wanted to enjoy being together, and of course I was obsessed with David. We returned here, and you know, we separated when I was gone so much, following David and my own whims around the world. Then that disgusting body thief, and Barbados and Rio and now David wants to go to the jungles. I mean, events and circumstances simply haven't allowed for a proper setting in time for us."
Louis nodded, accepting this. "Perhaps I've had my time with you."
"What do you mean by that?" Lestat asked.
Louis shook his head, "Nothing."
"Louis, tell me what is wrong."
Louis sighed, "You told me, the last time we were here together, that you and Akasha had been lovers."
"Yes. Is that what you are upset about?"
"No. You and David are also lovers."
"Yes."
"And you referred to me as your 'old friend and lover'."
"Is this going somewhere Louis?"
"I don't know, you will have to tell me." Louis turned his head to look at Lestat. "David and I have been lovers, in the mortal sense."
Shock and disbelief registered on Lestat's face. "You what?"
Louis didn't repeat himself, but looked Lestat in the eye and nodded slowly.
"Lovers." Lestat said quietly, as if he couldn't quite understand the concept.
"Oui." Louis affirmed softly.
"You and David."
"Oui."
"In the mortal sense?"
"We did not drink."
"Oh," Lestat sat back against the neighboring tomb, somewhat relieved. "Oh, I see." Lestat looked off into space for a minute or two. Then he turned to Louis, "When?"
"Once four weeks ago, and then again last night."
"So twice."
"Oui."
Lestat looked down, his brow wrinkled, he clenched his fists. "So is he better than me?" Lestat hissed.
"Non, because I love you."
Lestat snorted, as if it were a lie.
Louis waited a beat. "But he is good, isn't he?"
Lestat laughed. He wished he hadn't but he could not help himself. The idea of Louis saying such a thing was so ludicrous. He tried to recover himself, but it was too late. He had lost the indignance. Instead he opened his mouth and the first thing on his mind came out. "You don't STILL love me, do you? Not now, not after David."
"I'll always love you, Lestat."
Lestat stared steadily into the dark green eyes of his fledgling, searching for deceit, uncertainty or mockery. He found none. "David is in love with you then?"
"Non, David loves you too."
"I don't understand."
"We have an attraction. We indulged that impulse. But we are both in love with you."
The indignance returned in a flash and quickly built to rage, "So the two of you decided to do this behind my back!"
"As you did behind ours."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Louis ticked them off on his fingers, "Akasha, some poor girl in Washington, Gretchen, David-"
"Wait, wait, wait! You hold it just a Goddamned minute, Pointe du Lac! NONE of that is even remotely similar. Akasha took ME, what was I supposed to do? You knew her strength!"
"But you gave her your heart, your love, and it was only days after you told me that we would 'have each other the way we never did in the old days'."
"What do you mean, 'gave her my love'?"
"Lestat, when Mekare severed her head-"
Lestat gave a grimace of pain which Louis ignored.
"You went to her in your heart. You thought only of her. You looked to her first. Not to me, not even to Gabrielle, but to her."
"But Louis she was dying!"
"As were we all, Lestat. Myself faster than most. I fell unconscious before her head hit the ground."
"Then how do you know my heart was with her? How do you know I looked first to her?"
"I read your book."
"Louis, there is no comparison whatsoever! And that girl, and Gretchen, I was MORTAL then! How can you possibly hold that against me?"
"I do not hold it against you Lestat. I only mean for you to face what you have done before judging us."
"Now I see, you think you can get away with this betrayal by bringing up old memories of half remembered stories, is that it?"
"Betrayal? How did we betray you, Lestat?"
"You were LOVERS! You said so yourself!"
"And so which of us is the Judas to your Christ?"
"Both, Goddamn you! BOTH!"
"Because we are both your lovers?"
"YES, OF COURSE!" Lestat shouted.
"Then who is betraying whom?"
"Don't try and confuse me with some philosophical conundrum, Louis! Speak plainly!"
"Are you betraying me with David, or betraying David with me?"
Lestat stared at him. "Louis, you and I aren't . . .I mean we don't . . .We barely even sleep together! You never drink from me! It isn't the same."
"So we are not lovers?"
"Not in the strictest sense, no!"
"That isn't what you said a moment ago."
"You are trying to confuse me! You think you can trick me into forgiving you by trapping me in my own words!"
Louis looked silently back at his name engraved in the marble. "I have told you the truth. Do what you will with it."
Lestat stared at Louis. His mind was whirling. 'Louis was upset by my affair with Akasha? But I told him and he seemed to take it fine. "Of course. I know," he said. And Gretchen and David, Louis is jealous of them? But how could that be? I never meant to hurt Louis. Well, yes, an insult here or there, maybe a cutting remark once in a while, but not hurt him that way. I never meant to break his heart. I wasn't even thinking of him when I was with Akasha or David, and certainly not when I was mortal. Louis, it was nothing deliberate against you, you didn't even enter my mind, don't you see? Besides, surely you have had other lovers too. Armand. Even if you did think I was dead. And even if I excuse that one, there must have been others afterward. After you think you saw me in my little house, or after Armand told you about me or whatever happened. You don't mean for me to think you were alone all those decades that I was underground. . . .but of course you were, weren't you? All that time. Oh God, how many decades? What did you tell Daniel? 'I was dead and I was changeless.' 'A veil separated me from all living things. A veil that was a shroud.' 'I wanted to be where there was nothing familiar to me and nothing mattered.' Empty.' Lestat started to sob. He hadn't meant to, he didn't want to, but it was uncontrollable. Horrible wrenching sobs which were ripped from his soul.
Louis jumped in surprise at the sound and then looked to Lestat. He was at once overcome with worry. "Lestat, cheri, don't cry." He took his maker in his arms.
Lestat didn't pull away, but seemed to lean towards him, so Louis suspected he wasn't necessarily crying over the pain caused by David and himself. 'It could be anything. It could be many things, God knows, he has been through enough.'
"Shhh, mon cher, it's alright." Louis pulled him closer and laid the blond head on his shoulder. He laid his own head on top of it. "It's alright Lestat, hush."
Lestat held Louis as tightly as he dared and cried his heart out. He cried for himself, for Louis, for David and the choice he had made for him, for Claudia, for Gretchen. He cried again that Louis had refused to help him. He cried that he almost killed him for it in the Cathedral, that he thought of it and truly could have done it while he was still a bit crazed. He cried more for himself, how everything seemed to happen to him and yet it was still always his fault. It made sense sometimes and then again it did not. He cried and cried.
Louis held him and rocked him and whispered all of those sweet endearments in his Creole French that Lestat so loved to hear.
Lestat shook and wailed and let the hysteria overtake him. Louis held fast and did what he could to soothe him and to calm him. Anyone with the misfortune to be passing by that cemetery during the next few hours would have heard the unearthly and unforgettable sounds of immortal grief.
Hours later, Louis shoulder, indeed his entire shirt, was soaked with Lestat's tears. Lestat had cried himself to sleep. Dawn was no more than forty minutes away. Louis stood up with Lestat in his arms. Though Louis wasn't nearly as strong as Lestat, the ancient blood had converted Lestat's body to something lighter than muscle and bone, so he was no burden at all. Louis carried Lestat home to their town house in the Rue Royale.
David met them at the door, "Good Lord! What happened?"
"Lestat wept," Louis said, simply.
David was reminded of John chapter 11, verse 35 "Jesus wept". He thought it fitting.
Louis carried Lestat upstairs, "David, viens."
David closed the door hurriedly and followed.
Louis went into Lestat's room, followed by David. "Pull back the bedcovers and then bring me a damp cloth and a dry towel, would you please, David?"
David nodded. He pulled back the covers and helped Louis remove Lestat's shoes before resting him on the sheets. Then David went to Lestat's bathroom for the cloth and towel.
Louis arranged Lestat's limbs more comfortably. Lestat's eyes fluttered open.
"Louis?"
"Je suis ici, Lestat. We are home now. Relax, it is almost dawn."
Lestat's eyelids slowly closed and his breathing resumed it's slow pattern. Louis removed Lestat's clothing which was damp from all of the crying. David returned and handed Louis the cloth and towel.
"I'll find some pajamas for him," David said.
"Merci," Louis answered. He wiped Lestat's face clean of tear streaks and dried it.
David brought a pair of white pajamas made of very thin flannel to the bed and dressed Lestat in these. "May I ask what happened?"
"I told him about our activities." Louis said evenly.
"HOLY HELL, Louis! He could have killed you!"
Louis smiled softly and took David's hand. "Non, I pointed out that we were simply following his example."
"And he cried over that?"
Louis looked back to Lestat, and reached to pull the bedcovers up around his maker, "I think it was many things."
David went around the room making certain it was secure from the sunlight, then walked back and stood on the left side of the bed across from Louis. The sun was rapidly approaching.
"David," Louis said, "I reacted badly to your apology. I do accept it."
"Thank you, Louis. I want you to know that I do realize how terribly out of line I was."
Louis bent and kissed Lestat's forehead, David did the same. They straightened and looked at each other over the bed.
"So he knows about us," David said.
"He does."
"And neither of us is dead."
"Apparently not . . .well, no more than before, at any rate."
The coming dawn and the unusual circumstance gave them both the same idea, and each could see in the other's eyes that he was thinking it too. Simultaneously, they slipped off their shoes, pulled back the covers and fell into the bed on either side of Lestat.
Chapter Nine
The next evening, Lestat awoke, flanked by his fledglings. He sat up. The revelations of last night were uppermost in his mind. 'Good God,' he thought, 'what will I do now? But then Louis says that they both love me. And I have had many loves; Nicki, Louis, Akasha, David. Louis has had but Armand, whatever they may have done, and a few little encounters with me. Nothing like what I've done with David . . .at least nothing he was conscious for. David has no one but me. I did want them to get along. I suppose they cannot be blamed for getting along too well.' Lestat put his head in his hands, 'My God, my God, what am I going to do? Can I handle this?' He looked from Louis to David, stroked their hair. 'Who do I love more? Could I choose if I had to? Even if I could choose, which could I reject? Whom could I hurt that way? Which could I live without?'
"Lestat?" David's voice roused him from his troubled thoughts.
"Bonsoir David. Tell me, was your bed too hard or too soft?"
"I was hiding from my evil stepmother."
"Ah, and this one?" Lestat glanced to Louis and back.
"Pricked his finger on a spinning wheel," David said.
Lestat nodded.
"Louis said he told you last night, about what we've been doing together."
"Yes, he did."
"And what is your reaction?"
"Don't you have anything you would like to say to me?"
David sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Do you want an apology?"
"Do you feel apologetic?"
"I don't regret it, if that is what you mean."
"How DO you feel about it?"
"You don't deny that Louis is stunningly gorgeous?"
"I do not."
"You don't deny that Louis is irresistibly charming?"
"No."
"You don't deny that Louis has a cunning intelligence and -"
"David." Lestat said, quietly but impatiently.
"My point is, that I feel very lucky to have shared such experiences with him. They were wonderful and I do not feel that I have anything for which to apologize on that account. I am sorry for the pain it obviously causes you, that was certainly not my intent, nor his, I know."
"But you knew it would, David! You knew it would! How can you say such lies?!"
"Lestat, be reasonable. We are all grown men, certainly. Beyond that, we are all vampires and therefore are not bound by mortal standards of right and wrong. Finally, we are immortal. It is rare for humans to stay monogamous for as much as sixty years, you expected Louis and me to do so through eternity?"
Lestat sighed, "I don't know, David. I don't know what I expected."
"What are you going to do?"
"Do?"
"Yes."
"What can I do? Spank you? Send you to your rooms without supper?"
"So you want to punish us."
"I don't know, David, don't psychoanalyze every word I say, it is too early in the evening for that."
"Are you angry with us?"
Lestat thought for a moment. 'Angry? Am I angry? . . . No, not really. It's something else. It's a pain. I feel hurt. They aren't mine anymore, MY Louis and MY David, and I HATE that!' Lestat tried to put the pain into words for David, " I'm . . .I'm . . . Goddamnit, I'm jealous! I'm jealous and I'm pissed off that you didn't even ask my permission, and you aren't apologetic and I know that you'll say that I have no right to ever have expected either. But I AM your maker, for Christ's sake, AND your lover, both of you, and I deserve better treatment than this!"
David nodded, "I see what you mean, I understand that. I'm curious, if we had asked permission, what would you have said?"
Lestat looked at David, "Truthfully, I would have said yes."
David's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"But," Lestat continued, "I would have wanted it like this." He spread his arms out.
"Both of us with you," David said.
"Yes."
"Is that still what you want?"
"I wouldn't say no."
"Well, perhaps when Louis awakes we can discuss that."
Lestat snorted, "Louis would never agree to such a thing."
"You never know until you ask."
At just that moment, Louis rolled onto his side, toward Lestat. He blinked a few times and then looked up at his maker.
"Bonsoir, Sleeping Beauty," Lestat said, "Sit up and join the party."
Louis did so and looked over at David, "Good Evening."
"Good Evening, Louis," David returned.
Louis put his arm around Lestat, "Are you feeling better tonight, cheri?"
Lestat smiled and leaned into Louis's shoulder, "I think I am."
"Très bien," Louis said, petting the blond mane.
"You must have brought me back home."
"Yes," Louis answered.
"And undressed me?" Lestat asked with a sly grin.
Louis cleared his throat, "Well, yes, but that was only so that David could put the pajamas on you."
"David, you chose these? Thank you."
"Not at all, Lestat."
Lestat turned back to Louis, "David and I were just having a very interesting conversation, Beautiful One."
"Oh?"
"Hmm, yes, about the three of us."
Louis looked to David, but David was watching Lestat. "What about us?" Louis asked.
"We were thinking that the three of us could have a little fun together."
"Fun?"
"Yes, you know," David began unbuttoning Lestat's pajama top, he winked at Louis, "fun."
"Ah" Louis blushed a bit, but he pulled Lestat over into his lap.
Lestat laughed, "Now, wait -"
Louis cut him off with a kiss. David had opened the pajama top and was pulling off the sleeve. Louis broke the kiss and began nuzzling Lestat's neck. David tugged on the pajama bottoms and the elastic waistband slid down to Lestat's knees.
"What is this, my little fledglings?" Lestat asked. He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or irritated.
"Shh," Louis said. "Relax, notre Marquis."
"Let us do all of the work," David added, chuckling as he nipped at Lestat's thigh.
"Mmmmm" Lestat said. He reached up and ran his fingers through Louis's hair.
Louis moved from behind Lestat and came to lie down over him, kissing his chest and licking at his nipples.
"Louis!" Lestat exclaimed, surprised.
David had pulled the pajama bottoms off and snaked one hand up the leg opening of the briefs he had dressed Lestat in the evening before. Lestat gave a little jump. David grinned at Louis. Louis rubbed his cheek down Lestat's chest and kissed his belly button. David ran his other hand up Lestat's thigh. He took the waistband of Lestat's briefs in his teeth and pulled them down, exposing Lestat fully.
Lestat felt a pleasant quiver as the air hit him, but his reaction was muffled again by Louis's tongue which had found it's way back into his mouth. His fledglings continued their ministrations; kissing, rubbing, licking, kneading, squeezing, petting. Lestat's body seemed to vibrate. He was warm all over. Every touch brought his skin alive. And it was Louis and it was David, his loves, touching him. A hand came up over his eyes, Louis's. Then another hand parted his thighs, David's. He felt a cool tongue licking circles in the hollow of his throat. He felt soft fingers lightly stroke down his length. It sent surges up and own his body, like pulling a bow across violin strings. Lestat moaned. Louis's mouth was at his nipples again, tickling them, teasing him. Lestat grabbed Louis's shirt and pulled it off of him. Louis just smiled and eluded his grip. He stepped away from the bed, his green eyes sparkling, and turned away, unzipping his trousers. He let them fall.
"Louis!" Lestat gasped at his nakedness.
Louis pretended not to hear. He went to David and whispered something in his ear. David nodded, giving Lestat a devious grin and stood on the bed, with Lestat between his legs. Louis stood on the bed behind David, mostly obscured by the British vampire's height and width.
Lestat propped himself up on his elbows. This couldn't be what he thought, could it? Louis's hands came around David's chest and pulled up the bottom of David's T-shirt, exposing first the rippled brown belly and then the broad chest. Slowly, slowly, Louis inched it upwards. David held his hands behind his back and looked down at Lestat teasingly. The shirt off, Louis went to David's waist and began unfastening his fly.
Lestat's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He meant to say something, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a tiny squeak. Louis pulled down David's trousers, and David stepped out of them. Louis turned David's back to Lestat and rolled David's knickers down his legs. Lestat could feel himself actually shaking. This was almost too much for him. This was beyond fantasy. He kept expecting to wake up.
David stepped out of his shorts and clasped his hands in front of himself. Louis turned him to face Lestat, and then grinned at Lestat from over David's shoulder. Louis reached and took David's hands, bringing them behind his back again. David towered over Lestat in all his glory. Lestat felt sweat break out all over his body.
Louis put his hands on David's shoulders and pressed him to his knees, still holding his hands behind his back. David knelt between Lestat's legs, looked once into the wide grey eyes and then lowered his gaze demurely. Louis gripped the back of David's neck, and seemed to force David's head between Lestat's legs. This little performance thrilled Lestat more than even he cared to admit. Louis's fingers guided Lestat's member into David's open mouth.
"OH GOD!" Lestat yelled. He grabbed David's thick brown hair in his hands. Louis pushed Lestat up into a sitting position and then sat behind him, gently but firmly forcing him to stop pulling David's hair. He pulled Lestat back into his arms and kissed him ferociously. Lestat licked Louis's ear. Lestat was panting now, and was very close to reaching his peak. Louis took Lestat's arms and crossed them over the golden chest. At the same time, Lestat felt David release him and push his thighs together.
"Noooo." Lestat moaned. He stopped just short of a sob.
David brought Lestat's knees up, Louis turned him on his side. They had his body packed tight in a fetal position. Lestat could feel his nipples and even more his member pulsing, but seemingly buried in his own flesh. Then David was on his side in front of him and Louis behind. They enclosed him in their arms and legs, their skin against his skin.
"J'taime, Lestat," Louis whispered in his ear, kissing him.
"I love you , Lestat." David said, rubbing a strong hand over Lestat's hip.
They seemed to massage him, rubbing their bodies against his. Lestat could hear their voices like a chant.
"Love you."
"Mon amour."
"Beautiful."
"Golden"
"Silken."
"Want you."
"Perfect."
"Handsome."
"Gorgeous."
"Smooth."
"Sweet"
"Love."
"Need you."
"Toujours."
"Always."
"Je t'adore"
"Lestat."
"Lestat."
"Lestat."
"Lestat."
Lestat's body was electric. His blood was pounding through every vein, every capillary. He could hear himself panting and moaning, but had no control over his own voice or breath. He felt he might explode. David uncrossed his arms and began kissing his chest. Louis rubbed circles down Lestat's spine, to his tailbone and deep into the cavern. Lestat jerked forward as he felt himself entered by a long thin finger.
"Ah! Oh! Ah . .yes, yes." Lestat heard himself say.
It was too hard to believe that Louis was actually doing this. David had returned to the nether regions and allowed Lestat straighten his legs and part his thighs. David worked intently, kissing and stroking, around, below behind, above. Louis added a second finger. Lestat gave a short cry of pain and passion. He still heard his fledgling's soothing voices.
"Yours, Lestat."
"Forever, Lestat"
"Love you."
"With you, Lestat."
"You have me."
"Maker."
"Lover."
"Master."
"Lord."
"Sire."
"Worship you."
"Yours."
"Love you."
"Lestat."
Lestat felt as if his body was being pumped with blood, he felt swollen with it, but it was ecstasy, as if he were caught in a swoon. David pulled Lestat's organ into the soft warm recesses of his mouth. Lestat could see his own limbs trembling. He could taste the blood sweat, his, David's, Louis's.
Louis kissed the back of his neck and removed his fingers. "Lestat, mon maitre, mon amant, mon ame."
Lestat felt Louis's organ enter him. He screamed, but not out of pain. It was the sheer unreality of the action, the sharp thrill, the carnal indulgence, the completeness of the feeling, as if he'd been waiting for it all his life, it was the whole damn unbelievable situation.
Louis and David seemed to synch immediately into a rhythm that had Lestat reeling: push, pull, pump, constrict, thrust, suck, press, release, in, out, in, out, hold, stop, wait, tease, slower, slower, slower, squeeze, twist, lunge, impale, and again, and again, harder, harder, faster, faster.
Louis ran one hand over Lestat's face, leaving his wrist over Lestat's mouth, a few seconds later, David sank his fangs. Lestat did the same and tasted Louis's blood. Love. Love was in the blood. Love was in their bodies. They were one thing, one perfect being, one sustained orgasm, one complete cycle.
Lestat awoke first. He had passed out, amazing! He looked around. Louis was draped over his back, David's head was resting on his body, with the rest of his body entwined in Lestat's legs. Lestat could hear their hearts beating. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of their breathing.
How could this happiness have come to him? Who were these two men, and where was his shy Victorian Louis and his proper English David? Perhaps they'd been possessed. What would they do when they awoke? Make excuses? Run and hide in embarrassment? Possibly even do it again? Lestat laughed.
The sound and the movement, soft though it was, awoke his fledglings. Louis's arm moved on Lestat's chest. David moaned and turned his head. Louis pulled away from Lestat and sat up, combing his hands through his hair. He grabbed the coverlets and pulled them up over himself. Lestat rolled onto his back and gently helped David disentangle himself. David then sat up as well. Louis crossed his legs and folded his arms beneath the coverlet, he seemed to be studying the patterns in the velvet. David looked over and patted Louis's leg. Louis looked up and gave him a shy grin. David smiled back. Lestat liked that. It was nice to see. He supposed it was alright, really, if they enjoyed each other's company. He could stand them being a bit closer to each other. He could cope.
Lestat then Sat up between them and rested his back against the headboard. He looked slowly and deliberately from one to the other. "Mon Dieu! I have never been so shocked in all my life!"
"We aim to please," David smiled, a bit smugly.
"You succeed, mon amour," Lestat told him. He turned to Louis, "So, you have been hiding this kind of talent from me all of these years, Pointe du Lac?"
Louis blushed and shrugged a little, but there was something shining in his deep green eyes . . . pride. He was proud of himself. Proud that he had gone through with it, proud that he had shocked Lestat and even more proud that he had pleased Lestat. So proud that he found himself biting his bottom lip to keep the wide boastful grin from bursting out.
Lestat gathered them up in his arms abruptly. He crushed David and Louis to him, kissing their mouths, burying his face in their hair. Holding them, feeling them, smelling them, tasting them, as they squirmed wordlessly to find comfortable positions in the tight grip. They didn't dare protest. Not from fear of Lestat, but from fear of ruining the moment. They each recognized that their relationships had changed, all of them, irrevocably. It was important that this new stage in their lives start off well.
"Look at me, both of you, my beautiful fledglings, my lovers. Listen, stop whatever thoughts are in your heads and listen closely to me," Lestat looked from emerald to topaz, both were focused solely on him. "This moment, what he have right now, will not last. It will fade and die, as all precious things do. But we will remember it. We MUST remember it, and think of it each time we see each other throughout our eternity. Remember, mes chers, that we had this peace, this love, and we were happy together once. Do you understand?"
"Oui, Lestat," Louis answered.
"Of course," David nodded.
Lestat smiled, relieved. "Yes, bien. Now, look at each other."
Louis and David each glanced past Lestat to the other.
"No, no, no," Lestat said in an amused voice. He pushed them both forward and turned them so that they faced each other. "Now, go on, look at each other, look in each other's eyes."
This time they did so. Lestat put an arm around each fledgling's back and pulled them all together.
"Hold on to this moment, whatever comes next, hold on to it!" There was a seriousness in Lestat's voice which neither Louis, nor David, had ever heard before. Lestat meant these words with all his heart, all of his soul. His fledglings were quiet, reverent. They paid attention. They would remember. "No matter where we go, or who we are with, the three of us have this connection." Lestat puts his hands to their cheeks and turned their faces toward him. "The same fangs pierced both of you, and brought you from the mortal world to this one, my fangs. You both drew the same blood into your drained and dying bodies, my blood." Lestat stopped, too overcome with emotion to continue. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, releasing his fledglings. Running through his mind were his memories of times with all of his fledglings: Gabrielle, Nicki, Louis, Claudia, David. He was reliving his abandonments, his betrayals, his disappointments. He was trying desperately to avoid this again. When he looked up, there were tears on his cheeks. Louis and David embraced him immediately.
"Lestat, what is it?" David asked.
Lestat took a deep breath and gave a short laugh. "It's nothing, nothing my friend. I am becoming as maudlin as Louis." Lestat playfully tugged a lock of jet black hair. Louis smiled.
"Alright, alright, enough of this!" Lestat leapt to his feet on his bed. "Let's hit the shower!"
David walked to the door as Louis pulled a sheet from the bed to wrap around himself. Lestat appeared at once before David.
"Where do you think you're going, Monsieur Talbot?"
"I was endeavoring to take a shower."
"That is the wrong door, "Lestat said. "You want that one." He turned David around and pointed him toward the door of his private bathroom.
Seeing this, Louis's eyes widened, and he hurried to reach the bedroom door while Lestat was busy with David. It was a bit prudish, yes, but certain agreed upon bedroom games played between consenting gentlemen were perfectly acceptable, whereas cleaning the resultant effects of these activities from one's body was an absolutely private affair. It was hygiene, for God's sake, not a group activity. Lestat caught him around the waist.
"What do you want, an engraved invitation?"
"Lestat, I don't think I'd be comfortable-"
"Comfortable?" Lestat laughed. "Louis, perhaps you are forgetting the reason that you need a shower?"
"But Lestat, bathing is . . .is . . ." Louis was at a loss.
"Intimate? Personal? Private?" Lestat offered, amusedly.
"Yes, all of those, and I know, you will say that what we just did was all of those as well, but-"
David could tell from his experience with both of them that this could quickly degenerate, Lestat would become irritated, Louis would become indignant and the night would be ruined. He wondered why they always opted to push each other's buttons when it was perfectly obvious what each wanted. Lestat wanted his way, Louis wanted a bit of courtesy and need polite persuasion. It was so simple. "Louis?" David interrupted, quietly crossing the room to them.
Louis looked at him.
"I understand what you mean, but may I ask that you please share this with us? I would like very much for you to, and you know that Lestat would."
Louis looked unsure, his eyes moved from David's face to Lestat's and back again.
"Remember," David said, adding just the smallest amount of coaxing, "it is still just the three of us. We know you Louis, you know us, it isn't really a breech of propriety."
"Yes, I suppose . . ." Louis looked down and dropped the sheet.
"Good!" Lestat took them by the hands and led them at once to his enormous bathroom with its massive shower.
Very quickly, with some jostling and finding position, Louis found himself situated between Lestat and David. Lestat adjusted the temperature and pressure a bit lower in deference to his fledglings and the pulled the golden handle, activating all of the faucets on both ends, soaking them all immediately. David and Lestat set upon Louis at once with soapy sponges. It wasn't quite so bad as Louis had imagined. The water in his eyes blurred the bodies, making things a bit less blatant, and Lestat and David relieved him of the dreaded experience of washing one's self in front of others, while trying to maintain some dignity. In fact, David and Lestat were lathering him thoroughly, top to bottom, tickling him mercilessly and holding him still when necessary. They were laughing as well and deftly negated all attempts by Louis to twist and wiggle out of their grasp.
Once Louis was well rinsed, it was David's turn in the middle, which Louis took as a special opportunity for revenge, having discovered a few of David's more ticklish spots during earlier encounters. David's height advantage served him well, and he was able to escape the more insistent tickling when necessary, but Louis and Lestat were relentless and David got a good going over anyway.
Finally, Lestat took his place between David and Louis. Lestat however, absolutely languished in their ablutions, and it took them twice as long to finish with him as it had for the both of them. Even the ticklish strokes of the sponge, simply sent him pressing more closely to the opposite fledgling. David and Louis paid special attention to each crease, cavern and crevasse, and Lestat nearly purred.
Once all of the blood sweat, soap, and shampoo were rinsed away, Lestat turned the faucets off. They stepped out into the bathroom. Louis grabbed the towels and threw one to David and one to Lestat, keeping one for himself.
Lestat and David began giving each other thorough rubdowns, while Louis turned his back to them and dried himself. Once David realized this he tapped Lestat on the shoulder and glanced to Louis. Lestat grinned, nodded and winked. They fell upon Louis, rubbing him furiously. Louis tried to protest but was once again foiled by his own laughter, as well as that of Lestat and David. Lestat picked Louis up and sat him on the marble counter. Louis grabbed Lestat's towel and yanked. He couldn't break Lestat's hold, but the towel tore in half.
Lestat gasped, "Why Louis, look what you did!"
Louis laughed and whipped his half of the towel across David's arm, as David got closer.
"Why you!" David exclaimed, ducking Louis's next lash and rubbing up and down Louis ribs.
Louis grabbed for David's towel too, but David caught his hands. At this same time, Lestat had decided to tickle the backs of David's knees, this caused David to collapse on top of Lestat, dragging Louis down with him. Their attempts to rise while keeping the other two down turned into a no holds barred round of slap and tickle, which Louis finally won by escaping through the door and slamming it behind him.
Ruling Rue Royale
Chapter Ten
He could hear Lestat and David scrambling over each other, trying to get to their feet and open the door, but he made it to his room in no time. Upon closing his door, he heard very clearly the disconcerting sound of his own voice, giggling. Laughing was one thing, but this was uncontrolled, high pitched, silly sounding, giggling! He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, putting an end to that.
Louis opened his closet and took out some clothes; Black cotton pants, loose black shirt with lace at the collar and cuffs, black boots. He felt much better once he had dressed. He glanced into the mirror in his room. His hair was tangled and knotted from the wrestling. He found he didn't want to think about the tickle fight, or the shower. It was inelegant and unlike him. He went into his own bathroom, locking the door for the first time. He took up his comb and pulled it through his hair. He concentrated hard on the act of combing and untangling his hair, to keep his mind from straying to other things. He knew what he had done was not wrong. It had pleased Lestat and it had pleased David, and he had enjoyed it as well. So why the discomfort now? It seemed as if it had been someone else engaging in that behavior, and not himself at all. Still no one knew, but Lestat and David, who had done the same thing, so why should it embarrass him?
'That's it,' Louis put down the comb. 'I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I shall not BE ashamed! Nor will I be uncomfortable. I will simply put it out of my mind. It was an interesting and enjoyable experience but there is no reason to dwell upon it.'
Louis took up a black elastic band and caught his hair up in it. He opened his window and took a deep breath of heavy humid air, scented with azaleas and Queen's wreath. This made him unaccountably happy. He jumped to the ground and went to feed.
David had left Lestat's room for his own and took his favorite outfit of light khaki trousers and white button-down shirt out of the closet. He decided to forego the jumper this evening, as he wasn't particularly cold. As he busied himself with dressing he sang to himself an old pub tune, "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile . . ." Of course he always felt euphoric after a good round of cockfighting, but this was far beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. It felt like some sort of narcotic high. He combed his hair and slipped into his loafers. He then left his room and took the stairs two at a time, looking for Lestat.
Lestat was meanwhile still sitting on his unmade bed, towels strewn about on the floor, in shell shock. 'Did this really just happen? I mean, it has been one of my kinkier fantasies for a while, but did I actually just experience this? Did Louis enter me? Louis??? MY Louis??? Together with David?? MY David??? A ménage à trois. It truly happened. And the we showered together. ALL of us. NAKED! My God. And the rolling around on the floor, the wrestling . . .it had to be a dream. Had to be. Or maybe they're drugged? Or insane? Maybe I am? Or . . .could it be . . .it could be some after effect of that Candomble ritual, couldn't it? Are we possessed or something of that sort? I must ask David . . . or rather, I must NOT ask David. If it were possible, David would want to reverse it, or remove it or whatever is done in these situations, and that is precisely what I do not want. No, no, I'll enjoy this as long as it lasts, thank you very much. In fact, I think I am going to start enjoying it right now.' Lestat donned his tightest blue jeans and his smallest white T-shirt. He admired himself in the mirror. He loved that his sun-darkened skin allowed him to dress this way. To appear mortal, and yet be so much more, this was indeed his pleasure and his pride. He turned around to check the view from the back, gave his belt loops a final upward tug and went downstairs.
He found David sitting in the parlour, book in hand, Mojo at his feet.
"MOJO!" Lestat exclaimed ecstatically.
Mojo's head snapped up, seeing Lestat, he launched himself into the air, landing in Lestat's arms.
"Good boy, Mojo! I missed you so much! Did you miss me? Did you? Of course you did! Mon chien." Lestat sat on the floor with the dog in his lap, rubbing him, kissing him, petting him, hugging him. "Mojo, why do you smell like roses?"
"That's the dog wash." David informed him.
"Dog wash?"
"Yes, Louis just bathed him a few nights ago. It lingers. Nice, isn't it?"
"Louis bathed my dog?"
"That's right. I did the claws, what do you think?"
Lestat held Mojo's paw up. "You gave my devil dog a pedicure?"
"Devil dog!" David shook his head, "Really now, Lestat."
Lestat held Mojo up, inspecting him from all sides. "Well he doesn't seem to be too much the worse for wear."
"I rather think he is much improved from the last time you saw him. Look at how soft and shiny his coat has become. Look at his teeth."
"His teeth? Why?"
"Just look at them."
Lestat tried to get Mojo to open his mouth. Mojo moved his head away. "He doesn't want me to."
"Nonsense. Mojo, come here, boy."
Mojo readily walked to David and sat before him.
David snapped his fingers above Mojo's head and said, "Open."
Mojo looked up, but did not open his mouth.
"Mojo, open," David repeated.
Mojo did not.
David reached for Mojo's jaw. The dog gave a quiet but firm warning growl. David sighed.
"Well, he won't do it for me. He'll do it for Louis. You'll have to take my word for it, they are the whitest dog's teeth I have ever encountered," David patted Mojo on the head.
Mojo jumped into David's lap, knocking the book away, to show there were no hard feelings.
"Do I want to know how he came by this unnatural whiteness?" Lestat asked.
"Louis brushes them," David said, trying to avoid Mojo's enthusiastic kisses.
"BRUSHES them? Brushes a DOG'S teeth?"
"Yes," David laughed. "I thought it was quite bizarre myself at first, but I do think it is good for him. It certainly improved his breath."
Lestat gave David a suspicious look. "Here, Mojo," he called. "Come away from the maniac."
Mojo leapt down and went to Lestat, wagging his tail.
"That's a good boy. Looks like I am just in time to save your from this evil torture, huh?"
"Hmm, well, you'll have to work that out with Louis, I should think," David said, noncommittally.
Lestat laughed. "Well, I am famished. Join me for dinner, David?"
"My pleasure," David smiled.
Louis returned shortly, finding the flat empty. He laid David's London Times, and Lestat's New York Times on the hall table. He then put a Schubert CD in the stereo and took his Times-Picayune to the sofa to read.
David and Lestat returned nearly and hour later. Louis stood as they entered the parlour and they greeted each other with kisses, Louis's and David's chastely on the cheek, Lestat's full on the mouth.
"I brought the papers," Louis said, gesturing toward the hall table.
"Ah, splendid!" David said, going to retrieve the papers. "Have you done your crossword yet?"
"Certainly not!" Louis answered, taking mock umbrage at the accusation.
David laughed.
Lestat realized that he was witnessing something which had become routine for Louis and David, while he had been writing. Still, he was confused. "Louis, you don't like crossword puzzles."
"What do you mean?" David asked, before Louis had a chance to respond. "He loves them, and he's quite good too."
"I've never seen him do one," Lestat insisted, taking his New York Times from David.
"That is because you always did them before I got the chance," Louis laughed, handing him a pen.
They arranged themselves on the sofa and chairs. Louis and David turned to their crosswords immediately. Seeing this, Lestat followed suit.
"What is a seven letter word for light?" David asked, without looking up from his puzzle.
"Light as in not dark, or light as in not heavy?" Louis asked.
"Hmm, good question," David said.
"Brother," Lestat joined in.
"What?" David asked.
"No," Louis said, knowing what Lestat was getting at.
"Yes," Lestat said to Louis. "'He ain't heavy, he's my brother.' Seven letters, see?"
David rolled his eyes, but grinned to himself.
"Try lumiere," Louis said to David.
"Oh, that's good, I will," David nodded, filling in the squares. "Mourning ornament material?"
"Jet," Louis said.
"Blank mange," David said.
"Blanc," Lestat answered him.
"Yes, blank mange, something mange," David looked at Lestat.
"No, David, the word is blanc. Blanc mange. B-L-A-N-C," Lestat clarified.
David laughed at himself. "Oh, yes, of course. Daft that I didn't think of it myself. Nasty dessert, though."
"What is an eight letter word for detective?" Louis asked. "The fourth and eighth letters are Ts."
"Flatfoot," Lestat told him.
"Really?"
"Yes Louis, really" Lestat assured him. "Five letter word for boredom?"
"Ennui," Louis said.
"I tried that, only four letters."
"Two Ns," Louis said.
"What is the abbreviation for Alaska?" Lestat read the clue out, unsure.
"I haven't the vaguest," David said. "A definite Yank question, that."
"AK?" Louis offered.
"AS?" Lestat asked him back.
"I'm not sure," Louis confessed.
"Well, isn't Arkansas, AK?" Lestat asked him.
"Arkansas is AR," Louis said.
"Then Alaska would be AL," Lestat said, happy to have figured it out.
"Then what is Alabama?" Louis asked.
Lestat thought for a moment. "I'm skipping this one. Who wrote 'The Valachi Papers'?"
"I have no idea, " David said.
"Nor do I," added Louis.
"Patron saint of mental illness?" David asked.
"I think I used to know that," Lestat commented.
"Dymphna," Louis told them.
"Pardon?" David asked.
"D-Y-M-P-H-N-A."
"Ah ha, so they want petrol for energy source, then," David said to himself.
"A five letter word for dumb?" Louis asked.
"Blond," David told him.
"Very funny, David," Lestat threw his pen cap at his youngest fledgling.
"Actually, I think that fits," Louis said.
"What?!" Lestat demanded.
"Yes, now I just need a six letter word for vain, fourth and sixth letters, T, hmm."
"You're pushing it, Louis." Lestat pointed at him.
Once the puzzles were finished the three of them chatted about the news for a bit. They discussed what movies were playing, art exhibitions announced and various items of interest. Then Lestat opened his Times magazine and found something interesting.
"Who wants to play the quotes game?"
"What is that?" David asked.
Lestat read, "Identify the author of each quote and find the theme."
"That sounds fun," Louis said.
"Alright, this is the first one, 'What the public criticizes in you, cultivate. It is you.'"
"Jean Cocteau, Le Rappel a l'Ordre," Louis answered immediately.
Lestat wrote that name in the blank, then read the next. "Two, 'Critical remarks are only made by people who love you.'"
"Mayor, Frederico Mayor," David answered. "And I think I have already determined the theme."
They all laughed.
"Three, 'For if there is anything to one's praise, it is foolish vanity to be gratified at it, and if it is abuse - why one is always sure to hear it from one damned good-natured friend or another,'" Lestat read.
"I don't know, " Louis said.
"Me either," Lestat answered him. The two looked at David.
"Don't look at me," David said, so they stopped.
Lestat read the next. "Four, 'I find the pain of a little censure, even when it is unfounded, more acute than the pleasure of much praise.'"
"Jefferson," Louis and David said at once.
"Five, 'To criticize is to appreciate, to appropriate, to take intellectual possession, to establish in a fine relation with the criticized thing and make it one's own.'" Lestat looked from one to the other, seeing that they didn't know the answer, provided it himself. "Henry James." He went to the next quote and read, "Six, 'The covers of this book are too far apart.'"
David laughed, "Oscar Wilde?"
Lestat wrote it in the blank. "Seven, 'I demand that my books be judged with utmost severity, by knowledgeable people who know the rules of grammar and logic, and who will seek beneath the footprints of my commas the lice of my thought in the head of my style.'"
"I don't know who wrote it, but it puts me in the mind of the great apes, grooming each other," David said.
Louis made a face of disgust.
"Lovely image, David, thank you," Lestat said. "Eight, 'It is from the womb of art that criticism is born.'"
"Baudelaire," Louis said.
"Nine, 'Most critical writing is drivel and half of it is dishonest . . . it is a shortcut to oblivion anyway. Thinking in terms of ideas destroys the power to think in terms of emotions and sensations.' Raymond Chandler," Lestat said, recognizing the quote. "Ten, 'Praise or blame has but a momentary effect upon the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works.'"
"John Keats!" Louis said.
"Eleven, 'Any authentic work of art must start an argument between the artist and his audience.'" Lestat looked up.
David shrugged.
Louis shook his head.
"I don't know it either," Lestat said. "I'll guess . . . Vanilla Ice."
"Is that a person?" Louis asked.
"Louis, you really need to get out more," Lestat told him.
"Was that the last quote?" David asked.
"No, a few more, this is the next one, 'Never trust the artist. Trust the tale. The function of a good critic is to save the tale from the artist who created it.'"
"D. H. Lawrence," David answered.
"I've never read him," Louis commented.
"Don't bother," David said.
"Thirteen, 'Criticism is often not a science, it is a craft; requiring more good health than wit, more hard work than talent, more habit than native genius. In the hands of a man who has read widely but lacks judgment, applied to certain subjects it can corrupt both its readers and the writer himself.'"
"It was a French writer . . ."Louis said.
"I haven't come across it before," David admitted.
"I'll go on, then. Fourteen, 'It is the nature of the artist to mind excessively what is said about him. Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.'"
"Virginia Woolf," David said.
"'A Room of One's Own'," Louis agreed.
"Fifteen, 'In criticism I shall be bold, and as sternly absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.' Edgar Allen Poe," Lestat said, as he wrote it in the blank. "Sixteen, 'The artist doesn't have time to listen to the critics. Those who want to be writers read reviews. Those who write don't have time to read reviews.'"
"Faulkner," Louis said, simultaneously with Lestat.
"Seventeen, 'Unless a reviewer has the courage to give you unqualified praise, I say ignore the bastard.'"
"John Steinbeck to John Kenneth Galbraith," David answered, "in an airport somewhere, if I am not mistaken."
"Eighteen, 'God knows people who are paid to have attitudes toward things, professional critics, make me sick; camp following eunuchs of literature. They won't even whore. They're all virtuous and sterile. And how well meaning and high minded. But they're all camp followers.'"
"Ernest Hemingway," David said.
Lestat nodded. "Nineteen, 'Since we cannot attain unto it, let us revenge ourselves with railing against it.'"
"Michel de Montaigne," David said.
"Twenty, 'Take heed of critics even when they are not fair, resist them even when they are.'"
"Jean Rostand, the biologist," David said.
"Now," Lestat said, turning to the answers. "How many did our vast and collected intelligence get correct? One, Jean Cocteau. Very good, Louis. Two, Frederico Mayor. David, who IS Frederico Mayor?"
"The president of UNESCO, Lestat."
"Oh." Lestat decided not to ask what UNESCO was, probably some group of psychics, or witches or charlatans. "Three, Richard Brinsley Sheridan."
This brought blank stares from all.
"Four, Thomas Jefferson, five, Henry James, six, Ambrose Bierce, David."
"Ah, well." David shrugged it off.
"It sounded like Wilde, though," Louis said.
"Seven, Louis Aragon. Any one have the slightest clue of who he is?"
"Oh, yes," Louis said. "He is a poet of some sort. Stan says he's not worth the paper he's printed on most of the time."
"Well, apparently he'd like very much if Stan would tell him so," Lestat observed. "Eight, Charles Baudelaire, nine, Raymond Chandler, ten, John Keats, eleven, Rebecca West."
"I still do not know her," Louis said.
"No idea," Lestat agreed.
"Perhaps they haven't been very well published arguments," David said.
"Twelve, D. H. Lawrence, thirteen, Jean de La Bruyere, fourteen, Virginia Woolf, fifteen, Edgar Allen Poe, I wonder how many friends he had?" Lestat mused. "Sixteen, William Faulkner, seventeen, John Steinbeck, eighteen, Ernest Hemingway, nineteen, Michel de Montaigne, twenty, Jean Rostand. Four wrong out of twenty, that is a score of 80. Not too bad."
"Rather pathetic considering our collective age though. There are probably twenty-year-old mortals who could have gotten 100 percent," Louis said.
"Yes, Beautiful One, but can they load and shoot a flintlock pistol in less than a minute?"
"Can you do that, Louis?" David asked.
"Well, yes, at least I could," Louis said modestly.
"Then, you still can," Lestat assured him. "And the theme was artistic criticism. We knew that, so add five points. And it says, '80 to 85, you are well-read.'"
"That's somewhat faint praise," David chuckled.
"But accurate," Louis said.
They continued to peruse their newspapers, reading out the horoscopes, discussing the weather in various places. It was an easy, comfortable atmosphere, and each thrived in it. They relaxed, smiling often and enjoying each other's company. Louis became so relaxed in fact that he stayed downstairs until the sun began to rise and fell asleep there. Lestat allowed David to carry Louis upstairs, while he put out the lights and settled Mojo for the day.
Chapter Eleven
Lestat entered his room and was disappointed to find his bed empty, but not surprised. he was tired anyway, and fell into a mortal sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The next evening, Louis awoke to hear the mingling of voices downstairs. He couldn't make out actual words, but he listened to Lestat's rhythmic accent, sliding around David's British staccato, like a duet. To this accompaniment, Louis stripped his bed and remade it in fresh linens. He then stepped into his washroom, peeled off his clothing and showered.
Clipping his hair afterward, Louis caught a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror. His skin was still flesh colored due to his burn. He stared at it. He stared at his chest, his shoulders, his face. Louis rarely looked at himself, but tonight he was fascinated. He stared at the way his eyes looked set in the darker skin. He looked himself up and down, slowly. How long since he'd seen his own legs? He turned to the side and regarded himself with a critical eye. He had never thought of it much before, certainly not since he'd been born to darkness, he never allowed himself to, but now he wondered if he was as attractive as Lestat and David. Was he too thin? Were his legs too long? Was his head too narrow? What did they look for in a man? They were attracted to each other, but he looked nothing like either of them. Louis faced the mirror and inspected the most obvious feature of his male anatomy. Was it long enough? Thick enough? How did it compare to Lestat's? To David's? Suddenly his own thoughts embarrassed him. He pulled his gaze away and shook himself all over.
'This is ridiculous,' Louis told himself. 'Whatever my faults may be , I cannot change my appearance now.' He threw his clothes and towels down the laundry chute. He passed the mirror once more as he left the washroom. "Perhaps they are attracted to my mind," he sighed.
He went back into his bedroom and looked through all of his drawers and his closet. He was once again irritated that Lestat had thrown out all of his old things before they went to Rio. But he didn't wish to be in a foul mood tonight. 'Let it go. Louis,' he told himself, and then laughed, reminded of the beer commercial lizard who says the same on television.
He pulled a suit out of his closet and then put it back, too formal. He went instead to his drawer and found a pair of soft blue jeans, these would do. He also wore the running shoes that Lestat had bought him in Rio. He searched for a shirt. He first put on his favorite of his new purchases, a full cut linen with lace at the collar. He looked at himself in the mirror. No, he wanted to look modern tonight, for Lestat and David. He sighed. He took the shirt off and looked down at the tag he'd cut off of the jeans. The man in the picture was wearing a long sleeved collarless shirt with three buttons at the top. Louis searched his drawers for this shirt. He had purchased his clothing according to what was on the mannequins and what was on the tags, so he knew he must have that shirt somewhere. He could tell what colors went together, but he had a difficult time keeping up with what styles of clothing went together. Do silk jackets go with denim? Lace shirts with suit trousers? Velvet with corduroy? It was too confusing. Ah, here was that shirt, in white. He pulled it over his head and tucked it into his jeans. Louis compared himself with the model on the tag. It was a close match. He walked to the mirror.
'I look ridiculous,' was his first thought. And then, 'No, you don't, you look modern. Stop being so stupid. It is fine.' Louis looked away from the mirror. He checked to be sure that all of the buttons were buttoned, zippers were zipped and laces were tied. Then he walked down the stairs.
David was on the phone in the parlour, making some sort of travel plans. He waved to Louis as he passed. Louis could hear Lestat, also on the phone, in his office. Louis decided to go out and hunt.
"Hello Anne, it's Lestat. I know you aren't home right now, but I have left a copy of the manuscript in your office, and also a copy of the disk it is on. It is called THE TALE OF THE BODY THIEF. I have already sent it to Knopf. Let Christine or me know when they set a publication date, and if there is a fight over the cover art. Leave me a voice mail if you need me. J'taime. Bonsoir." Lestat hit the hook button, and then hit another button and waited a few minutes. "Christine? Lestat. Hello chere, how are you? . . .Tres bien. I have just sent my book in to Knopf . . . Yes . . . Hardback. I want the usual plus ten percent more of the paperback . . . Random House? Fine, fine, whatever. You know what I want. . . . Yes, chere . . . Well, I never was too happy with my deal on my revised biography . . . Christine, I have fledglings to support, ma chere!" Lestat laughed. "Oh fine, he's fine . . . Yes, the phone lines were your idea, he told me that he talked to you about it. . . Wonderful, thank you . . . I was very surprised." Lestat laughed again. "Oh? How did he sound? . . . Yes, he is very sweet . . . I'll send you a picture of it . . . Merci, merci beaucoup. Bonsoir."
Lestat heard a knock at his door. "Come in." He called as he hung up and dialed another number.
Louis cautiously poked his head through the door.
Lestat smiled. "Hello." He said into the phone as he waved Louis in. "I am calling for Ares, this is Narcisse."
Louis closed the door behind himself quietly and came to stand beside Lestat.
"Ares? Ciao." Lestat raised his eyebrows questioningly at Louis.
"Am I bothering you?" Louis mouthed silently.
Lestat frowned and shook his head. Louis held up a book he had brought and pointed to the office couch, looking to Lestat for permission. Lestat smiled and nodded. Louis smiled back and took a step toward the couch. Lestat caught one of his belt loops. Louis looked back at him.
"Yes, that is what I thought." Lestat said into the phone. He then puckered his lips at Louis.
Louis smiled shyly and leaned to kiss Lestat. Lestat grinned and tasted Louis's lips. Louis straightened and turned.
"I am about to make a very large transfer. I will be traveling and I must have these funds available." Lestat patted Louis as he walked away. Louis turned back surprised.
'I like you in jeans' Lestat wrote on his notepad, and then held it up for Louis. Louis blushed and laid down on Lestat's couch.
"Thirty to the liquid assets . . .Seventy to the Swiss accounts . . .Fifty to the funds available . . . Exactly."
Louis had left his shoes at the door when he returned from feeding, so he put his feet up on Lestat's couch and got comfortable with his book.
"I authorize anything which is necessary. It must be accessible from Brazil."
Louis liked to listen to Lestat's voice. It was a reassuring sound. He was pretending to be re-reading THE PICKWICK PAPERS, but actually he was listening to Lestat, and stealing glances here and there. God, it was good to be with Lestat again. Just to be in the same room with him was far more soothing than Louis had even imagined it would be. Lestat was salve on a wound he hadn't noticed until the pain was gone.
David had been on the phone for nearly two hours, making arrangements for their trip to the jungles. He was having tents, liners, backpacks, lanterns, flashlights, cell phones and appropriate clothing all sent to a postal station near to the Amazon. This time no one would be caught unawares. Of course, they would have to sleep in the earth most of the time, and so they could wrap themselves in the tent liners to keep their clothes from getting filthy. The lanterns and flashlights were to be certain that Louis could see as well as Lestat. The cell phones would keep them in contact, since they could not communicate telepathically, and there would be no humans about , whose minds could be scanned to locate each other. Heavy canvas clothing would withstand hard wear, quicksand, and traveling through thick vegetation.
He then called to order good hiking boots, in the appropriate sizes. He ordered various sizes of rope, machetes, Swiss Army knives and flares, just in case. As an afterthought, he ordered soft brushed cotton underclothing and union suits for the three of them, as canvas was not so comfortable against the skin.
Paging through a final catalog, he ordered three Portuguese-French-English dictionaries, a solar powered two-way radio with back-up batteries, a CD player and several good black ink pens and blank journals.
That accomplished, he went to Lestat's office. He could hear Lestat's voice, obviously on the telephone, and he could sense Louis inside. David knocked, and opened the door.
"May I join you?" he asked, quietly.
Lestat looked up from the phone call he was conducting in French and smiled.
"Of course," Louis whispered. He stood and greeted David with kisses on the cheek. They sat together on the couch and Lestat returned to his conversation.
"Well, everything should arrive-" David began, speaking to Lois in a quiet voice, but he was interrupted by a piteous whining and scratching at the door.
Louis got up and opened the door, admitting Mojo. Lestat frowned at Louis and pointed to the door, indicating that he should take the dog out. Louis walked out of the office and called Mojo softly. Mojo barked a loud greeting to Lestat before exiting. David, followed the dog out the door, laughing, and closed it behind them.
Chapter Twelve
Louis led Mojo to the kitchen and buckled a collar around the dog's neck. "Mojo, you know you shouldn't interrupt when someone is on the phone, it is rude."
"Woof bark bark," Mojo answered, jumping up on Louis.
"That's right, you should do as we say, not as we do," David added, teasing Louis by pretending to scold Mojo.
Louis smiled, "Well, what I mean to say, is that when you interrupt, you should interrupt quietly. Now get down."
"BARK ruff bark!" Mojo answered as he leaned heavily on David's legs.
Louis gave a huge sigh of exasperation. "Well if Lestat jumped off a bridge would you do that too?"
Mojo , having lured David down to scratch his ears, whined softly.
"Oh come now," David said reproving him gently. "Lestat gets scolded to, he just doesn't listen."
Louis knelt fed Mojo one of the ridiculously expensive dog treats he'd purchased at a shop he'd discovered in Metairie, Canine Confections. David shook his head and rolled his eyes. He found it endlessly amusing how Louis babied this giant Alsatian as if he were a French poodle. Then he reached into the bag and fed Mojo another one.
Louis attached a long lead to Mojo's collar. "Would you like to come and walk with us?"
"I'd be delighted." David answered.
They left through the front door and began walking toward St. Peter Street.
"Louis, there is something I've been meaning to discuss with you."
"Yes?"
"Well, you see, I feel quite awful about the fight we had."
"Please David, it is over and done."
"Yes, I know but . . ." David was at a loss for words.
Mojo galloped up the Cathedral steps, just missing a mime.
"But," David continued, "you see, the thing is, I have a bit of a problem dealing with you."
Louis blinked in surprise. "Dealing with me? I am not certain that I follow your meaning."
Mojo conned a cookie off of a tourist who was just emerging from Le Madeleine.
"Well, if I may be blunt, you are the weaker of us, vampiricly speaking."
"Granted."
"At the same time , you are the elder of us, chronologically speaking, by quite a bit."
"Obviously." Louis smiled. He gave a short tug to Mojo's leash which brought the dog back to his side. They walked into Jackson Square and Mojo did some gardening there.
"And yet, I cannot seem to shake the fact that I am seventy-six and you are twenty-five."
"Do you mean that you feel as if you are the elder?"
"Exactly so, and I am afraid it will show sometimes."
"I understand." Louis said. They had wandered to the other end of the Square and waited to cross Decatur Street.
"I don't mean any disrespect, Louis. It is only that I feel an overwhelming sense of . . . of . . ."
"Responsibility?"
David thought about that as they crossed. "More like protectiveness."
"Toward me?"
"Yes."
"But not Lestat."
"I worry for Lestat, but it is a very different feeling."
Now Louis sighed. He rubbed his eyes as if he had a sudden headache. "I will not stand for being bossed or bullied, certainly you can accept that."
"Yes," David agreed quickly, "of course.
"I admit that my powers are not as strong as yours, or anyone's for that matter, but I am hardly frail, and I am the most cautious."
"I know."
"And I have survived the longest on my own, far longer than Lestat."
"Yes, I do tend to forget that."
Mojo begged a couple of beignets from some drunken revelers at the Café du Monde.
"Look David, I do understand what you see when you look at me, but you must realize that it is precisely this which was the fall of Lestat and I the first time."
"You mean with her."
Louis nodded. "Now yes, I have observed that many sorts of traits are arrested at the age one is made. In the light of that fact, I accept that you have achieved a certain maturity from living a full life, which I never will. I do hold you in a certain esteem due to your age. It does work both ways, you see, and I am not unaware of it. It is only that," Louis paused and looked off for a moment. "It is only that I do have a sense of dignity and independence which I need to preserve."
"Well, of course, that goes without saying."
They had reached the river bank and Louis gestured for David to sit down, then did the same, unsnapping Mojo's lead and allowing him to run along the Moonwalk unhindered.
"This is all a great transition for me, David. I traveled for many years alone and hunted, since the publication of INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE. I had little contact with anyone and I trusted no one. It was only a few hours that Lestat and I were together before the concert, and we were together very little the night of the concert. Since leaving the Night Island, I have lived on my own. David, I am unused to being protected. It is odd to me that I am regarded as being unable to see to my own safety, and to be quite honest I find it an unfair assessment. In some ways I do welcome the comfort of having others not only know me, but actually be concerned for me. Yet, I do not see myself as you see me. I consider myself to be strong, self-reliant and well able to survive. Though I realize that you mean no insult, I confess that it hurts my pride that you perceive me as such a helpless and foolish creature."
"That is perfectly understandable, of course, Louis."
Louis looked seriously at David. "But I was wrong to have reacted so badly. I should not have behaved in such a superior and condescending manner and there is NO excuse for my cursing at you and Lestat. I do apologize, and I hope you forgive me."
David leaned over and hugged Louis tightly. "I provoked you. You accepted my apology and I certainly accept yours." David kissed him and they smiled at each other.
"May I have a bit of a say now though?" David asked.
Louis laughed. "Yes, by all means. I took over the conversation, didn't I."
"There is a first time for everything, Louis." David took Louis's hand in his own. "As you said, there is no getting around the fact of our mortal ages for either of us. Now, I am going to speak plainly and I do not mean to offend you."
"Go on," Louis nodded.
"Louis, you are a boy to me. You are a third of my age. And it isn't your appearance. I am hardly one to talk, on that account." David grinned, indicating his youthful face and body. "It is more, well, your actions sometimes, the way you fight with Lestat over silly things, the way that your emotions are always right at the surface, these are signs of youth to me, even immaturity. If only you had lived long enough you would have naturally come to know that few things are as important as one thinks they are, especially in relationships, and it is far better to prioritize and only fight for what you feel is truly important." David put his hand on Louis's shoulder, "You would be able to see that being damned with someone you love, isn't being damned at all."
"And that being raped by someone you love, isn't really being raped at all?" Louis asked.
David laughed, "Ah, well, you caught me on that one, but not the way you think. Morally, I couldn't possibly have asked Lestat to make me a vampire. I couldn't have lived with myself, or so I thought. Truly, though, I did want it, the only way for me to possibly accept it was to be taken against my will, to fight to the very last instant. Lestat did me a favor in how he brought me into this. I did need to leave him, assert my independence a bit at first. I had to pretend that I was highly victimized and offended, until I could come to a peace within myself and accept my own desires. That was a bit of my own immaturity showing through. I do accept it now, though, and I do not blame Lestat.
"You see Louis, we get a bit too caught up in what is right and proper and manly, and we find that we cannot accept in ourselves even one tiny trait that is less than ideal. So we fight against ourselves, denying our proclivities, and that is, in truth, plain stupidity, and makes ourselves miserable as well as those around us."
"But you are saying that there is no such thing as proper and improper behavior, and that is untrue."" Louis called Mojo to him and they began to walk toward Ursulines.
"No, Louis, that isn't what I am saying at all. My point is, if we want something, but we feel that to want such a thing is a weakness, then rather than accepting that we can still be who we are, and have this need, we instead think that to accept this need is to completely destroy who we are and therefore we fight against it."
"Excuse me, David, but I am not following you."
"That was rather convoluted, wasn't it. Here, let me take for example the office which you furnished for Lestat. Now that was a wonderful gesture, and I am not saying that there was anything wrong or immature about it. However, isn't it true that you really did all of that work out of a single, and very simple need to have someone you love say that he loves you as well? So that, instead of simply asking him to say it, you throw your self into all of this work and planning, only to have him say, 'Thank you, I love it.' Not, 'Thank you, I love you.' and so you are disappointed, but you cannot show it because what he did was perfectly proper. It is simply that you cannot confront your own need to hear such a thing from him because you think it is somehow weak."
"That isn't so at all!" Louis said, a bit more sharply and loudly than he had intended. "I only thought that it might be a useful thing for me to do. I just wanted for it to be right, functional that is, for Lestat's needs. And it was educational for me. There wasn't any hidden agenda for it. This is precisely the sort of patronizing attitude which I cannot tolerate, David!"
"Really, Louis?" David refused to be insulted or put off, as Louis obviously wanted him to be. "Do you deny that you actually enjoy the feeling of being protected, being led even being intimidated by Lestat? Can you honestly say that you do not enjoy his little threats, his strong-arm tactics, his attempts to control you and subdue you? You provoke him, you irritate him, you insult him, because you LIKE for him to frighten you. You want him to dominate you. It thrills you. In your heart of hearts, you WISH he would do to you as he did to me! You WANT him to ignore your protests, overpower you, hold you down and sink his-"
"NON! STOP IT!" Louis shouted. "You are just as vainglorious, insolent and egotistical as Lestat, if not more! How dare you say such things to me? You do not know me. You do not know how I feel or what I want. You do not understand me, you have no idea who I am!" Louis grabbed David's collar and pulled him close to his face. " Do you want to know what really thrills me, you smug, arrogant bastard? It is precisely that he will NOT do it to me! I know that he wants to. I know how he would love to make me into his lap dog, his puppet, his slave, the way he has done it to you. But he won't. He won't because that is the kind of power that I have over him. He could do it. God knows, he's strong enough, and certainly capable. But he won't. Not to ME! NEVER to ME! Do you know why? Because he could never bear to completely lose me. He doesn't DARE cross that line, with ME, David, because he KNOWS that I would NEVER come back after that!
"What we have is far from perfect. Yes, I get lonely without him. I wish he were with me more. I wish he were less irritating. I wish we didn't fight so much. And yes, I would like for him to be more affectionate, more verbal, more expressive in his love for me. But I do not doubt that it exists David. I know it exists because I hold that man's soul in my fist! I have hurt him, David, nearly killed him, not once but THRICE, and yet he still comes back to me. Always, always, he will return to me, I know it, he knows it. I cross lines with him all of the time, David, I go just as far as I want to with him, but he knows exactly where to stop with me and he does stop there, every time. He gets close, he pushes, he tests me, but he never, never crosses the line.
"That is why I never have to be jealous or suspicious about his relationships with you or anyone else. Because no one, NO ONE David, can ruin what I have with Lestat, save myself and him. I may go too far one night, he may go too far one night, but until that happens, nothing, NOTHING that either of us does with anyone else matters one whit!"
Louis could hear himself breathing heavily. His voice echoed off of the buildings around them. David swallowed, audibly. Louis let go of him and stepped back, running his hand through his hair, and looking off in the distance. David straightened his clothes silently, and Mojo crept cautiously out from behind a nearby trash can where he'd taken refuge when Louis's voice reached an unfamiliar and frightening intensity.
"I apologize, Louis, I misunderstood." David said quietly.
Louis gave a long sigh, and turned back to David. "Let's go back to your 'no apologies' rule, shall we?"
David smiled a little and nodded. They continued toward Royal street, Mojo keeping a safe distance, should this black-haired man, who was obviously the evil anti-Louis, take a notion to begin yelling again, or worse. He thought idly that if he didn't get some more food soon, that things would REALLY get ugly. He thought he saw a squirrel.
"I don't know what it is that makes me act so strangely uncharacteristic with you David." Louis said, as if they'd been engaged in this conversation all along.
"I don't know what it is that makes me continuously push your buttons, Louis." David answered.
They smiled and shrugged, shaking their heads at themselves.
"Mojo, viens ici, mon petit." Louis called.
'MY Louis!' Mojo barked, excitedly. 'Where have you been?' The dog quickly ran around in front of Louis and jumped up on him.
"Mojo, decendais. Bien." Louis said gently, removing the paws from his shoulders. He attached the lead to Mojo's collar and they proceeded onward.
"Were you making arrangements for our trip to the jungles, this evening?" Louis asked.
Apparently no more was going to be said on the previous subject. "I was indeed. I have arranged for all of our supplies to arrive by express shipping as soon as tomorrow night."
"Are we leaving that soon?"
"I had thought we would. Is it a problem for you? We can certainly postpone."
"No, whatever is planned is fine. What should I pack?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not a thing. It is all taken care of; clothing, accouterments, provisions, everything."
"Could I bring my journals?"
"Of course, if you wish. I am having a good supply of blank journals and pens sent, though. I thought you might not want to risk losing years of writings in the quicksand."
"Thank you, that was very considerate."
"Oh, think nothing of it. I plan on keeping one too, you know. I ordered one for Lestat as well."
"He won't use it you know."
"No?"
"No, he hates the process of journaling. He would rather live through his adventures and then write them up afterwards, when he knows how everything turns out."
David laughed, "Yes, that does seem to be his pattern."
Mojo led them into his courtyard just as it began to rain. Lestat opened the back door. "Come in, quick!"
They hurried inside and Lestat shut the door just as a loud thunderclap sounded, releasing buckets of raindrops. Lestat unbuckled Mojo's collar and took David and Louis by the hand and rushed them all upstairs to his room.
Inside, they saw that Lestat had brewed three steaming cups of tea and gathered dozens of blankets, quilts and comforters on his bed. With many little kisses, but without speaking, Lestat wrapped Louis in a warm cocoon and installed him on the right side of the bed, and David on the left, giving them each a hot mug to hold. He laid Mojo across the foot of the bed, under another mountain of covers and then jumped into the middle, nearly spilling the tea.
"Lestat, what is all this?" Louis asked.
"Aren't you comfortable, Louis?" Lestat purred.
"Very comfortable." Louis smiled at him.
Lestat turned to his left. "And are you comfortable, David?"
"Yes," David replied.
"Well, I thought that since this is our last night home, we should spend what is left of it together. Especially with poor darling Mojo who will have to stay behind." Lestat petted the dog. Then he clicked a remote control he'd hidden under the blankets and the wall they were facing opened to reveal a humongous television set. Lestat clicked a few more buttons and 'Arsenic and Old Lace' with Cary Grant, sprang to life.
"Ah, now this is the way to pass a cold, rainy New Orleans night. Watching a good movie while snuggled up with my lovers and my dog!" Lestat announced.
They did snuggle up and eventually put their cups of cold tea on the night stand, shooed Mojo out, curled around each other like a pile of kittens and fell asleep.
As soon as Louis awoke the next night, they prepared to leave.
"Did Anne pick up Mojo?" Louis asked.
"Yes," Lestat answered. "Did you leave the note for the day staff?"
"Yes. David, did you stop the papers?"
"Yes. Lestat, did you get the money?"
"Yes. Is everything off?"
"Yes, is everything locked?"
"Yes. Is everyone ready?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Alright, say, 'Au Revoir, New Orleans!"
"AU REVOIR NEW ORLEANS!!!!"
FIN
THE END