Not a Pretty Girl
Erzsebet Tepes
Disclaimer: The majority of these characters aren't mine. They belong to the Mater Glorioso. Christine, however is mine, mine, ALL MINE. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
Spoilers: May contain spoilers through The Vampire Armand. I have disavowed all knowledge of MerrICK.
Thanks to my beta buddy, Chrysanthemum. She helped me work through kinks in the plot, took on the fun challenge of trying to understand how the hell I come up with my punctuation, and dealing my absolute silence and the spasms I tend to have when I'm not content with what I've written. Most of all, she's had to deal with the writer's block I get after every chapter.
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Not a Pretty Girl
Chapter One
It was cold and dark. Christine hated it, but she swore that no matter what she would not go back to that man. She pulled her tattered black sweater tighter around her as she walked through the unfamiliar alleys of New Orleans. Her old tennis shoes were worn and gray, and any puddles she happened to step in soaked right through them. The faded blue jeans hanging around her hips were dirty, and the cuffs had become heavy with water. She’d given her shirt to another young woman, Melissa, who’d shared a space with her a few nights ago. Melissa had been so nice to Christine, giving her some of the scraps she’d saved, protecting her from the thugs that had wanted to take advantage of her. The least Christine could do was give her a shirt. She’d had a sweater, t-shirt, and tank top. All Melissa’d had was a worn out undershirt.
Christine stopped for a moment to shake the water out of her shoes and thought about Melissa again. What was it she had said when Christine asked why she was being so nice? “We girls gotta stick together. There’s more in these alleys than horny boys. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen when they don’t know I’m watching. Ya gotta be careful, though. They can get inside your head.” Christine had thought the whole thing sounded crazy. They, who were they? She had wanted to ask, but she hadn’t felt it was her place to question someone who had been so good to her. When Christine left her the next day, Melissa had said, “You be careful. Remember, they can get inside your head. They’ll take ya if they think you wanna die.” She hadn’t understood any of it, but she figured it was just because she was kinda slow. That’s was people always said, anyway, that she was kinda slow.
Finally Christine saw a building. It looked like a castle or something. There was a sign above the door that read “St. Elizabeth’s,” so maybe it was a church. Well, if it was a church they’d give her a place to sleep for the night, wouldn’t they? It was worth a try. She went up to the door and knocked. No one answered. She tried again with the same result. Well, maybe whoever had owned it had left. She pushed open the door. It didn’t look like anyone was really using the place for anything other than keeping some old statues and stuff around, and she was too tired to care about getting in trouble. Deciding to go in, she closed the door behind her. It was just about as cold inside as outside. She headed upstairs and walked around a little. She peeked in a door and saw a large chapel. Turning, she left the room behind, making her way to one of the towers.
She found a room off to the side and entered, thinking no one would notice her. The second she crossed the threshold she stopped dead in her tracks. There was someone in the room, just lying on the floor. It was a man. He was well dressed, really well dressed. He was on his side, his gray eyes open and staring. Was he staring at her? He had lovely blond hair, longer than most men kept it nowadays. Christine started shaking. She tried to talk, but it came out as stutters, her heavy southern accent giving a drawl to her words. “I - I’m sorry. I didn’t know any - anyone was here. It’s just, well, I’m so tired and so cold. I don’t mean no trouble or anything. I’m just looking for a dry place for the night.” He didn’t move. He just kept staring out, and she began to think that maybe he was drugged or crazy. She had a feeling that she should leave now. Melissa’s words came back to her again, “There’s more in these alleys than horny boys.” But she was so tired. If she left now, who knew when she’d find somewhere to sleep? “Mister? Sir? If you don’t mind or nothin’, I’ll just sleep over here in this corner. You won’t get any trouble from me. I’ll be real quiet, and you won’t even know I’m here.” Christine walked over to the corner of the room, hugging the wall so she could stay as far from the strange man as possible. She took off her sweater and started to put on the ground to use as a pillow the way she had previous nights. Then she looked over to the man. She still felt like he was staring at her, and now that all she had on her torso was a flimsy, white tank top, too short to even reach her belly button, she felt even more self conscious. She picked up her sweater and curled up under it, using it as a makeshift blanket. It was only a few seconds before she fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Lestat was vaguely aware that someone was in the room with him. It was a young girl. She couldn’t be more than seventeen. He could tell that her clothes were worn and faded, but he had taken up the practice of letting his eyes slip out of focus so he wouldn’t have to see anything, and he couldn’t make out what she looked like. He didn’t really care that she was there. She rambled for a bit, then walked out of his view.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Christine woke up and stretched before realizing she still had company. She stood up and looked around the room. There weren’t any windows - it looked like they had been bricked up - but she knew it was probably late afternoon. She’d been waking up in the late afternoon since she’d left Georgia. She was kinda worried about the guy. He was still there, just staring. Maybe he was sick or something, and he needed help. Maybe he was dead. She walked over and started to reach for his shoulder. “Are you all - ” She screeched as she went flying across the room and slammed into the wall with a loud, sickening thud. She slumped forward and tried to catch herself, but just as she put her hands down, her arms buckled under her. She hit the floor with a groan. Well, she wasn’t dead, but her head was throbbing. Managing to pull herself up, she rested against the wall. She put her hand up and tried to rub the spot that hurt most. How had she been thrown across the room? Her fingers touched the spot on the back of her head, and she immediately realized her mistake. The pain was like fire. As she leaned back against the wall, she used her hands to hold her up while she tried to figure out what had happened. Noticing that the bricks were slippery, she looked at her hand to see what she’d put her fingers in. Blood. It was covering her fingertips. She turned and looked at the wall behind her. There were two large red spots, one where she’d hit the wall and the other where she’d been resting her head. The room began to spin. This couldn’t be happening, her skull couldn’t be crushed and bleeding. It had to be a mistake. She grabbed her sweater and stumbled out of the building. She hugged the sweater around her and put the hood up, pushing her thick, blond curls around her face. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she had to get away from that place. What had happened? He hadn’t touched her, but she’d gone flying. Everything was getting fuzzy and spinning. She must have been bleeding a lot, but she couldn’t go to a hospital. They’d send her back to that place, that man.
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It was night, and Lestat was painfully aware again, but it was different this time. Something had happened while he slept. Could it have been a dream? He could have sworn that he’d seen her. She was older, but it had to be her. The same beautiful golden curls, the sapphire eyes. What had happened? He remembered her standing over him. She had started to say something, then she was gone. Maybe she was still here, sleeping in the corner somewhere. He focused his eyes, and quickly realized what had become of his company. He stood up. It seemed like this was the first time he had ever stood on his own. His muscles felt odd and his head was swimming a little, but then it could just be the horror of what he was looking at. There was blood all over the wall. He must’ve thrown her. Oh god, this couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t die, not again. He had to find her.
Lestat walked through the orphanage. It’d been awhile since he had actually been coherent enough to recognize it. He got to the door and stopped for a moment. It was her, wasn’t it? Was it possible that he’d dreamt it all up? No, he’d seen the blood on the wall, he’d touched it. She’d been there.
Lestat walked for a while. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he finally came to one of the old cemeteries that New Orleans was notorious for. He could smell blood. She was in there somewhere. He walked around the cemetery until he found her. She was lying on a long stone bench about ten feet away. The hood had fallen halfway off of her head and the sweater had fallen open showing her dirty tank top. One leg was bent awkwardly under and around the bench. One of her arms was dangling, and the other was lying limply on her stomach. She was incoherent, and muttering something. As Lestat came closer, he was able to understand what she was saying. It was barely audible, even to his ears, but it sounded like some sort of poem.
“Daddy killed Mama for her red, red hair
Daddy killed Mama for her red, red dress
Daddy killed Mama for the red, red blood she bled when the knife caught her heart
Daddy killed Mama for her red, red lips
Daddy killed Mama for her red, red shoes
Daddy killed Mama for Red Jacobs, who he found in the bed next to her
Daddy beat me for my red, red hair
Daddy beat me for my red, red lips
Daddy beat me for the red, red blood that makes me look like Mama
Daddy liked the red, red pain
Daddy liked my red, red screams
Daddy liked the red, red blood. The blood I bled when he entered me”
Lestat came and kneeled next to her. She turned and looked at him. “Oh, hello. You’re awake, that’s nice.” Her voice was small and weak and frail, like a young child’s voice. “I’m so very tired. Can I go to sleep now?”
“No, no, you won’t go to sleep. You’re going to be fine. You won’t die, not again. I won’t let you.”
“Don’t take me to the hospital, please. They’ll call Daddy. Then - ” She trailed off. She was fading quickly. No one had any reason to be in these cemeteries. Most of the families buried here were long gone or had died off. No one had been around to find her bleeding to death.
“Then? Then what, chere?”
She was delirious. She began to sing to the tune of “Mary Had A Little Lamb.” “Daddy’ll come and take me away, take me away, take me away. Daddy’ll come and take me away, take me away to Georgia.”
“No one’s going to take you away, not again. I promise.” With that, Lestat leaned forward and pulled the hood back the rest of the way. He slipped his arm under her and lifted her up. He looked at her for a moment then sank his teeth into the soft, clammy flesh of her throat. He drank, and she whimpered, and it didn’t take long to drain her as she’d already lost so much blood. Then he laid her back and bit into his wrist as he had done for Louis so long ago. He brought his wrist to Christine’s mouth. “Drink, my little one.” Slowly her mouth opened, and she began to suck on the wound. Her eyes opened and she gave Lestat an almost pleading look. He pulled away his wrist, perhaps a little too early.
Christine sat up. She felt different somehow, but she couldn’t explain it. She touched the back of her head; the wound was healed. The blood was still matted in her hair, but the wound was healed. She looked at Lestat. “How? - What? - How? - Who are you?”
“Claudia, you don’t recognize me? It’s been a long time, and you’ve grown, but I thought you’d recognize me. It’s Lestat.” He looked at Christine as though he were about to cry. “Or do you just pretend not to know me to hurt me?”
She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want this man, Lestat, to cry. He’d obviously mistaken her for someone else, but she answered, “I’m sorry, Lestat. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please don’t cry.”
Lestat looked at her and smiled. “All right, ma chere, I won’t cry. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. You were just upset, and wanted to be with Louis. I know you didn’t mean it. Can you ever forgive me?”
Christine was confused. “I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. My name’s Christine. I slept in that room with you last night. Do you remember?”
“Shh. Hush now. Come, you need to feed.” Lestat took Christine’s hand and helped her up. He put one arm around her waist and held her hand with the other as he led her out of the cemetery.
“Feed? You mean eat? I’m not hungry.”
“All right. We’ll go home then. And we can find you some nice clothes. Your old clothes wouldn’t fit you, even if I had them. We’ll go to a store. There’s one down the street from our flat, it’s always open. It has some beautiful dresses.”
“What? Home? Dresses? Look, you think I’m someone else. I really can’t accept anything from you, except maybe a place to sleep.”
“Well, if you don’t want to go buy your clothes tonight, all right. We’ll just go to the flat, and you can sleep in my bed.” Christine cringed and stared at him for a moment. The two of them walked together for a long while. Christine wasn’t quite sure what to think. She felt so strange, she wasn’t sure how to explain it. She felt stronger, healthier. They reached a beautiful house. Lestat opened the door and escorted her in. He walked her into the living room, where three men were talking. The first was sitting in an armchair with a book in his lap. He had long black hair and lovely green eyes. The second man had darker skin, and brown eyes and hair. He was standing by a window, leaning against the sill. The third man was young, more a boy. He had reddish brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He was sitting diagonally across a loveseat. As Christine and Lestat entered the room, their conversation came to an immediate halt, and the three looked up with shock and questioning.
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Chapter Two
The darker skinned man was first to speak. “Lestat, who’s this? And am I mistaken in thinking that she is one of us?”
One of us? What was that supposed to mean? Lestat released Christine’s hand and turned her face up to him. “This is David.” He looked to the man who had just spoken, then returned his gaze to Christine. “And you already know Louis and Armand.” He looked back to the men in the room. “Claudia has returned to us. This time we’ll be happy. Won’t we?” He looked at Christine and smiled. Then he ran his knuckles down her cheek, and something snapped in her.
“No! Don’t touch me!!” She pulled away and stumbled back, losing her balance and falling in the process. She scuttled backwards to a corner where she started to tremble.
“Claudia? What is it? What’s wrong?” He began to walk towards her when he realized that Louis was next to him, his hand on his shoulder.
“Lestat, that’s not Claudia.” Louis’s face was flooded with pain as he looked at Lestat, trying to find something in his face to explain what was happening.
“Of course it is. She’s gotten older, but it’s her. Don’t you see? She’s come back to us.”
“It’s not Claudia, Lestat. Claudia couldn’t age, remember?” This time it was the young man. He was sitting forward at the edge of his seat now. “That’s why she went mad and - well - ”
“You, Armand, are just vindictive and bitter. You don’t want anyone to be happy because you’re so miserable.” Lestat practically spit the words at him, and the boy drew back slightly.
“Then why is she terrified of you and cowering in the corner?” Armand sat back and sulked.
“Don’t you see? She’s been reincarnated. She can’t remember everything right now, but she will. Then, Louis,” he grabbed the black-haired man’s shoulders and almost shook him, “then we can be a family again.” It was obvious that Lestat was utterly mad.
Louis pulled away from him, on the verge of tears. “Lestat, stop it.” A red tear ran down his cheek.
“Louis, don’t cry. We can be happy, all of us, together again.” He advanced, and reached for his companion.
Louis knocked his hand away. “Stop it, Lestat, stop it!!” He pointed to Christine. “That is NOT Claudia. Claudia is dead. She can’t come back. EVER!!” Louis turned and walked out of the room, the red tears running down his cheeks. David followed him out.
Lestat walked over to a sufficiently confused Christine and helped her to her feet. He began caressing her cheeks and hair and cooing to her. “It will be all right, ma chere. He just needs to get used to having you back. It’s been so long since we were all together. He had accepted that you weren’t coming back. I knew better.” He pulled the dazed girl to him and hugged her while Armand looked on silently.
Christine pushed him away again, and started walking in the direction Louis had gone. She stopped towards the center of the room and turned back to Lestat. “His tears. They weren’t normal.”
Armand let out a long, loud laugh. “Actually, they’re perfectly normal for what he is, and what you are now. Blood tears for blood drinkers.” He leaned on the arm of the loveseat, eating up the young girl’s frantic thoughts.
“Blood drinkers? You mean like vampires?” She brought her hand to her crucifix like a good little Catholic girl.
Armand smiled at her menacingly. “No, I don’t mean_like_ vampires. We_are_ vampires.”
She looked at him and started shaking her head back and forth. “No, _you_ may be a vampire, but_I’m_ not.”
“Really? Then why did that wound in the back of your head heal up so nicely? The cuts on your back and stomach? Why do you feel so strange? Why aren’t you dead? What exactly do you think Lestat_did_ to you in that cemetery?” He watched while her head filled with questions, and he listened to her mind racing.
She began to whimper a little. Then Lestat intervened. “Armand, stop it! You tormented her enough before. You won’t ruin her now!” He walked over to Christine, put his arm around her waist, and escorted her out of the room.
As the two were walking down the hall, Armand called after her. “Melissa was right, you know. Oh, and Christine? Don’t think of me as pretty. I hate that.”
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Chapter Three
Christine had settled into Lestat’s bed, and Lestat had gone into the bathroom to prepare a bath for her. She’d protested, saying all she really wanted to do was sleep, and then she could leave the next morning. In all honesty, however, the idea of warm water running down her back seemed so nice that Christine thought it almost sexual. She had gone without a bath or shower since Georgia. Rain was all she had now. It wasn’t right, though, to take any more from him. He still thought she was someone else. Then she thought about what she had told Lestat, that she would leave in the morning. If what Armand had said was true, then that was impossible. Vampires couldn’t go out during the day. She was never going to see the sun again. But that couldn’t be true, she couldn’t be a vampire. She was still wearing her crucifix. If she were a vampire, her crucifix should be burning her, right? And how had he known all those things about her? Her skull, the cemetery, Melissa…the cuts. Was it possible that the cuts had actually healed? Christine kicked the blankets off of her and pulled up her tank top. He was right, the cuts on her stomach had disappeared. She sat up and felt around to her back; those were gone too. She flopped back into the bed and pulled the covers up over her again. This wasn’t possible, how had he known those things? Could he be a mind reader? She snuggled down into the bed, trying to make sense of the things that had happened. The bed was so warm and soft. She started dozing off. The sound of the running water in the background started to become a murmur, then a growl, then a rumbling.
All of a sudden, a pain ripped her out of her oncoming slumber. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was even worse than the beatings she had experienced. She started to scream, but the pain was too much. All she could do was yelp and whimper and groan, but Lestat had heard it, and he was at her side in a moment. “Claudia, shh, it’s all right. Your body is dying, remember?” Those words hit Christine harder than anything she had heard or felt before. Dying? Her body was dying? Her eyes started to blur, and she realized that she was releasing fluids. Shit, piss, blood, it was all flooding out of her. She wasn’t sure what was making her nauseous; the fluids, the knot in her stomach, the pain, or Lestat’s words. She managed to let out a scream. The door opened, and David came in the room. When he saw what was happening he stopped and just stared.
The pain finally stopped, and a wave of shame and horror at all the fluids came over Christine. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just curled up into a ball and started to cry. Suddenly she was aware that Lestat was undressing her. She froze and closed her eyes. What was he doing? Why was he undressing her? Fear caught her, and she couldn’t think to move or scream, or even shake. She felt Lestat lift her up out of the bed. He walked into the bathroom and lowered her into the water. Christine gasped as she felt the warm water come over her.
David stood just outside the bathroom. “Lestat - ”
“Don’t you start too, David. It’s Claudia, she’s come back to us, and that is that.” Lestat poured a handful of water over Christine’s head and smoothed her hair back. He rested her against the back of the tub, her muscles still tight and her eyes squeezed shut. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Wash up now. I’m going to go change the sheets, and get you something to wear for the night.” He got up and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Christine gasped and opened her eyes. She had started holding her breath when he kissed her forehead. She sat up in the tub and looked around her. There was soap, a small towel, some shampoo, and conditioner in a shelf pushed back into the wall. There was a large towel on the counter by the sink. Next to it was a brush, comb, and hair dryer. She reached for the soap and the small towel. As long as she was here, she might as well bathe. Besides, she had learned to do what she was told. She cleaned everywhere, washing away the filth that had come out of her and the dirt that had accumulated on her since she had run away. She washed her hair, making sure to get the shampoo worked all the way into her tresses. Her curls were very thick. She frequently had problems with either not getting enough shampoo into them or not getting enough out. The latter was always the worst. She hated it when she didn’t get all the shampoo or conditioner out of her hair. The product would dry into a filmy clump and weigh down her curls. She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the tub. She walked over to the sink, picked up the towel, and pulled it around her. Looking at herself in the mirror above the sink and noticed things, little changes. Her skin was white and seemed to shimmer. She wiped the water off her face, but the shimmer was still there. She leaned closer to the mirror. Her eyes had become incredibly shiny, like gems. Her hair was thicker and somehow curlier, though she had never believed that was possible. She looked at her hands. The skin was just as white as on her face, and her nails had become glassy. Looking back into the mirror, she pulled back her lips, and saw what she had feared; two shiny, white fangs. It was all true. Armand hadn’t been lying to her.
Christine picked up the comb and held it for a moment as she continued looking into the mirror. They were vampires too, and this was probably the best place for her. She would need to learn about what she was, and she couldn’t do that anywhere but here. She began to comb her hair, and something totally unexpected happened. As the comb passed through her hair, the curls began to turn red. What? How could this be happening? Could the dye be coming off? No, that wasn’t possible, she could not let the dye come off. She dropped the comb on the ground and grabbed the sides of her head. As her hands pushed through her hair the last of the dye fell off in flakes. She looked into the mirror with absolute horror. Her hair was red, as it had been before she ran away, before she dyed it. She looked like her mother, and that had always caused her trouble. It was no different now. She screamed and ran out of the bathroom, slamming into Lestat as he rushed to see why she was screaming.
He looked at her blankly. “Who are you? What have you done with Claudia?”
“I’m not Claudia, I’m Christine!” She started crying, and everything blurred red.
“I know you’re not Claudia, now what have you done with her?!” Lestat grabbed Christine’s shoulder and held her. “What have you done with her?”
Christine thought her shoulder was going to crumble in his grip. The tears came rolling down her cheeks and she screeched. “I haven’t done anything! Let me go, you’re hurting me!!” With that she panicked and pulled her shoulder out of Lestat’s hand. He tried to move for her again but she lunged at him, throwing her shoulder into his chest full force. Lestat went flying backwards and slammed into the wall. Christine saw the clothes Lestat had gotten for her laid out on the bed, but decided against going for them as that would require her crossing Lestat’s path. Instead she turned to see David coming into the room, Armand and Louis close behind.
“What’s going on here?” David was quite worried. All he knew was that there had been a scream and a loud crash. Christine pushed past him and ran down the hall and out the door. Louis ran after her, but she could run much faster than he could. He lost sight of her after a few minutes, and went back to the flat hoping she would be safe.
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Chapter Four
“It’s been three nights, Lestat, three nights!” Louis was pacing around the room. “She doesn’t understand what she is, and she’s out there alone. Why did you attack her?” Armand was stretched out on the sofa, watching the little drama between Lestat and Louis impassively.
“She did something with Claudia. She should starve, or burn.” Lestat sat back in his seat and began to fiddle with a pen. “She’s not my problem.”
Louis snatched the pen out of Lestat’s hands. “She didn’t do anything with Claudia! Claudia is dead. The girl you brought here three nights ago was not Claudia. She dyed her hair blond, and the dye came off. You know our hair can’t hold dyes well. And she is your problem because she’s your fledgling. You made her!” Louis stopped and glared at Lestat as he caught his breath.
Lestat stared straight back, almost shocked by his lover’s outburst. Then he smirked. “My, my, Louis. You certainly can get yourself worked up.”
Louis was about to reply when David walked in. “Have you found her?” the raven-haired vampire asked, his concern evident.
“No, Louis. I’m sorry, but I did find some who I think might be able to help.” A tall vampire with white-blond hair and startlingly blue eyes entered behind David.
“Well, well, first Armand stops by for a visit, and now Marius. Where’s the rest of the coven?” Lestat grinned at the thought of the whole coven being together again.
“I’m afraid that I haven’t just stopped by for a visit, Lestat. I’ve come about your new fledgling.”
“How is it that you always know what’s going on in my life, Marius? I’m starting to think you keep an eye on me.”
“One eye isn’t enough to keep track of you, Lestat. As for always knowing about your life, I can only sense disturbances in our world, they all just happen to lead to you. This time is no different.”
Lestat leaned forward in his chair, his face darkening slightly. “And what do you know about this time? Hmm?”
“David explained it all to me on the way here. He told me that you found a girl you thought was Claudia, and made her one of us.”
“I didn’t do that, I - ”
“Lestat, let me finish. He also told me that you attacked her, and she ran away, and that that was three nights ago.”
“I attacked her because she did something with Claudia.” Louis sighed and left the room as Lestat continued. David followed, feeling it was more his place to try and comfort Louis rather get into the middle of this argument. “I made Claudia a vampire three nights ago. I don’t know who the redhead was!” Lestat stomped out and went into his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Where are Benji and Sybelle?” Armand was sitting on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his back to his maker.
“I thought it would be easier for the girl if she didn’t have to deal with so many of us, so I left them with Pandora. I should have known you would come here. Why did you leave like that? I was worried.”
Armand swung around and leaned forward against the arm of the sofa. “I left because I couldn’t stand being around you anymore.” He stood and stomped out in much the same fashion as Lestat had done moments before, pushing David out of the way as he went.
“Is he all right?”
“Sometimes I forget how much of a_child_ he can be!” Marius composed himself. “Come, David, we need to find the girl before it’s too late.”
“Are you sure it isn’t too late already?”
“Yes, she’s still alive, barely. I think I have an idea of where she may be.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Her thoughts.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Five
Marius and David stood outside St. Elizabeth’s. “She’s here.” Marius opened the door as David kicked himself for not thinking to check this place. They entered, and both could smell the encroaching death. They made their way to the room where Lestat had been sleeping for so long. David had bricked up the windows a few months ago so he wouldn’t have to worry about any light getting through the curtains. Christine was in there, and she was a sight. It was obvious that she hadn’t fed for the three days that she’d been gone. Her body was nothing more than a skeleton’s. The solitary towel lying over her made her seem even more horrible. She had smelled them enter, and she turned her head toward them. Her eyes fluttered in their sockets. Mouth open and teeth bared, she made a raspy noise somewhere between a groan and a growl. She tried to move, but she was too weak even to get onto her side.
“Dear God!” David gasped and stepped out of the room to regain himself.
Marius walked toward the wraith and kneeled next to her. “Poor child. You couldn’t bring yourself to feed, could you?” He lifted her slowly, as though he were afraid of breaking her, and brought her head to his throat until he felt her lips brush against his skin. That was all she needed. She used the last of her strength to tear into him, and the warm blood rushed into her mouth. Once she had enough strength, she latched onto Marius. She wrapped her legs around him, dug her nails into his shoulder with one hand, and entwined the other in his hair. At the moment she didn’t notice that the only thing between them was a towel. Marius did, however, and she could sense that he was slightly aroused by the whole scene. David came back into the room, slightly surprised by the sight of Christine wrapped around the elder vampire. Finally, she left go of him and fell back, gasping a bit. David averted his eyes, and handed his jacket to Marius. Marius wrapped the coat around the girl’s bare shoulders. She still needed to feed, but at least now she had enough strength to. Christine stood and gave Marius a look. She knew he had seen her thoughts and memories. Her mind had been incredibly vulnerable while she was feeding, and he’d taken advantage of it. He knew why she had run from Georgia and Lestat’s home, why she couldn’t feed, why she now hated him.
David sensed a tension between his companions while they walked back to the flat. He could begin to imagine what had happened to cause it, and he didn’t feel it was his place to ask. As the three vampires passed an alley, they heard a girl scream. Christine looked down the alley, and knew instantly who the girl was. “Melissa.”
“Who?” David was looking at her.
“She helped me. All I could do to repay her before was give her my shirt.” With that she took off down the alley.
“Should we go after her?”
“No. She wants to repay the girl. Besides, she needs to feed.” Marius looked down the alley as Christine disappeared around the corner.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Christine came to halt three feet from Melissa and her attacker. Neither of them had noticed her approach. The attacker, a man in his late thirties, was holding Melissa down by her throat with one hand and undoing her jeans with the other. Christine cleared her throat, and the man turned to her. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
“You don’t look much older… but you are already unwrapped, and I love that accent.” The man gave Melissa a hard slap across the face and she passed out. “Come here, sweetie. Promise it won’t hurt - much.”
“Actually, it’s gonna hurt a lot.” She jumped at him and caught his arm as he tried to pull out a knife. “Now, that’s not very nice.” She twisted his arm and pushed the knife into his stomach. He turned away from her as she sank her teeth into his neck. She left him with just enough life left that he could die painfully. As she pulled his clothes off of him, Melissa began to wake up.
“Christine? Is that you?”
“Melissa, are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’ve been better, but I’m fine. I can’t believe he didn’t kill you!”
Christine smirked. “He tried, but he fell on his knife.”
Melissa realized that her attacker was being undressed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m feelin’ kinda naked.” Christine looked down at her near nudity. “I figure he don’t need this stuff anymore.” She pulled on his jeans and tightened his belt around her waist, only to find that she needed to put another hole in the leather strap.
“Not exactly a perfect fit, is it?” Melissa poked the man’s side before turning him over and pulling the knife out of him. She wiped it off on his undershirt and tossed it to Christine. “Give that a whirl.”
Christine cut a small hole in the leather and fixed the belt in place. “Thanks.” She pulled on the man’s shirt and buttoned it down to a few inches below her breasts. “Hey, can you help me with the extra?”
“Sure.” Melissa took the knife from Christine and sliced through the fabric, going around the redhead until the extra material was completely removed. “Midriffs look good on ya, babe. I wish I had those abs.”
“You gonna be good out here, or do ya need a place to sleep? Cause there’s a place down the street called St. Elizabeth’s. Owner doesn’t use it much. You can crash there for the night.”
“Nah, I’ve learned to live on the streets. I feel weird in buildings. Where’re you staying?”
“Oh, I met these guys. I guess I’ll be stayin’ with them. I should probably get going.” Christine picked David’s jacket up off the ground where she’d left it and fished through the pockets, pulling out two twenties. “Here.” She handed the money to Melissa, who took it hesitantly.
“Are you sure you’re new pals aren’t gonna miss this?”
“They seem pretty set.”
“I can see.” Melissa looked past Christine to Marius and David who had just come around the corner. “Man, how’d you hook up with them?!”
“It’s a long story, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Well, I guess you’ll want to be going. I would if I was gonna be going with them.”
Christine just looked at her and shook her head.
“Christine, we should get going.” She handed David his coat as Marius walked over to the dead body. He bit the tip of his finger and touched it to the wound on the man’s neck, making it look like he was checking for a pulse.
The wound healed and Marius joined his companions. He turned to Melissa. “Do you need a place to spend the night?”
“No. Like I told Christine, I feel more comfy on the streets.”
“Goodnight, then. I wish you well.” With that the three left.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Six
The three walked in silence for a while before Marius spoke. “I had gotten the impression that you were opposed to causing harm to anyone.”
“He was gonna rape her. I wouldn’t want that to happen to nobody.”
“That’s understandable.” David felt he had to say something. He was starting to feel uncomfortable staying silent while everyone around him carried on conversations.
“You haven’t fed enough yet - ”
Christine cut the blond off. “I feel like joggin’ the rest of the way. I’ll see y’all there.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
When David and Marius reached Lestat’s flat, Christine was waiting outside. “Why didn’t you go in?” David reached around her and opened the door.
“I didn’t wanna go in alone. After what happened last time, I just thought maybe I should wait for you.”
“Well, we’re here now.” David gestured for her to enter. He and Marius followed her into the living room. “Please, sit. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t think of this as home.”
“I can think of a few.” Armand came down the hall and plopped down on the sofa, stretching so he took up the whole length of it. “So they managed to find you after all. And I’m guessing Marius let you feed from him? I wouldn’t have thought that you were his type.” He looked at his maker and smiled bitterly.
Christine crossed the room and sat in a small chair in the corner. “That’s not what he thought,” she muttered to herself. Armand raised an eyebrow at Marius.
David was beginning to get the feeling that this was another of those things you just don’t get involved in. “I’ll go get a couple of rooms ready for you and Christine.” He nodded to Marius and left the room. On the way, he stopped by Louis’s room to inform him that they had found the girl. He thought it best that Lestat not know quite yet.
Louis thought he should see how Christine was. After all, the last time she had been here it wasn’t under especially normal circumstances. He walked down the hall, almost dreading seeing her again. Except for the red hair, she did look quite a bit like he imagined Claudia would have, had she been grown. He came into the living room and stopped, due to the silence. “Where’s Christine?” Marius pointed to the corner where she was sitting. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine - Are you?” Her voice had lost all the bravado it’d had with Marius.
“What do you mean?” Louis wasn’t expecting that question at all.
Before Christine got a chance to answer, David returned. “The rooms are ready. Marius, your room is right next to Lestat’s. Christine, I can show you where your room is whenever you want me to.”
“Could you show me now?”
“Of course, it’s right up the hall.” David escorted her to her door. “If you need anything, my room is two doors down, and Louis’s is right on your left.”
“Thank you, you’ve done more than enough for me.”
“Don’t forget to close the shutters and pull the curtains before morning.”
“All right, I won’t.” She closed the door, and in a few moments there was a knock. She opened it, and found Louis standing on the other side. “Oh, hello.”
“Marius wanted me to remind you that you still need to feed, and it would be best if you did it tonight.”
Christine looked at the floor. “I’ll bet he wants me to feed.”
Louis looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothin’, really it’s nothin’. Did you want somethin’ else?”
“No, well, yes. What did you mean before, when you asked if I was all right?”
“It was nothin’. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Louis didn’t appear convinced. “It’s just, well, I know you don’t like me much.”
“Why would you say something like that?”
“It’s all right, really. I’m used to people not liking me, or liking me too much.”
“I don’t dislike you, Christine.”
“But you don’t like me much either, do ya?”
“You remind me of someone, and it hurts to remember her. I don’t blame you for that.”
“Claudia?”
“What?”
“The girl I remind you of. You mean Claudia, right?”
“Yes.”
Christine started to speak but stopped. She turned and walked to sit on the edge of her bed. Louis didn’t like seeing her so sad. “What is it?” he asked.
“It’s not my business.”
“It’s all right, you can ask.”
“What happened to Claudia?”
Louis had known that was coming. He came into her room and closed the door. “Claudia was, in the simplest terms, my daughter.” He sat in a chair next to a desk in the corner. “Actually, she was more mine and Lestat’s daughter. I hadn’t been drinking human blood for a long time. I found Claudia with her mother, who had died of the plague. Her father had run off. I fed from Claudia, but afterward felt guilty for doing it. Lestat had caught me feeding on her. He brought her back to our home and gave her his blood, making her one of us.”
“Why’d he do somethin’ like that?”
“To keep from leaving him, and probably to see if he could get away with it. We aren’t supposed to make vampires of children. We were happy together for a while, but Claudia and Lestat were too much alike. They got on each other’s nerves. One night, Claudia killed him, or so she thought. We made preparations to go to Europe, but the night that we were to leave Lestat came back. I nearly killed him again, trying to protect Claudia. In Paris, we met Armand and the coven he was leading. Lestat and Armand were old friends, so to speak. Lestat went to Armand for help. Armand’s idea of help was to lead his coven in killing Claudia and a companion I made for her.” Louis’s eyes began to tear up.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s fine. I should have told you before so you could have understood why Lestat was acting the way he was.” There was a long silence. “Could I ask you something?” This was what Christine had been dreading, she could sense it, but she nodded. He had shared so much with her, it was only fair. “Why did you run away from your home?”
Christine scooted back so she was sitting in the middle of her bed with her back against the headboard. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “My daddy, well, he wasn’t really my daddy.” She started picking at her toes. “My real daddy ran off while my mama still had me in her belly. When I was three, Thomas married my mama. I’ve always called him Daddy. He was a good man, important and all. He gave Mama lots of money and nice things that we couldn’t have before. Everyone in town treated him like a hero. No one really thought much of Mama, and they didn’t think anyone would marry her on account of me, and her reputation. Thomas did, though, and for a while he was real nice. Then he got real busy with his work, and Mama got lonely. She started hanging around all these creepy guys, the way she did before Thomas. Everyone said she was a barfly. I don’t know ‘bout that, but she did drink a lot. Finally, she met this guy, Red Jacobs. She and Red spent a lot a time together, going to dinner and all. One day, Daddy came home from work unexpected. He had known Mama was with other men, but when he found Red and Mama together he went mad. He killed both of ‘em right in front of me. Then he told me that if I got him any bad looks, he’d fix me like he did Mama.”
“Didn’t your father get into trouble for killing your mother?”
“No. Like I said before, everyone thought he was a real good guy. He buried the bodies, and said Mama had run off. When they found Mr. Jacobs was gone too, they just figured Mama had run off with him. They didn’t even look for ‘em. After he killed Mama, Daddy got real violent. He was always getting mad at me for no real reason. I knew it was cause I look like Mama. I changed my hair so I wouldn’t look so much like Mama. He took all his urges out me.” She hugged her knees closer to her chest and started to cry silently.
“Did he – did he rape you?”
“And beat me. I still have scars. I hoped they would fade, but I guess they won’t now, will they?”
“No, they won’t fade until you become very old, like Marius. Or powerful like Lestat.” He saw Christine make a face when he mentioned Marius. “You don’t like Marius, do you?”
“He’s a dirty old man. He enjoyed my feeding from him too much. He was thinking about how I only had a towel coverin’ me. And poor Armand.”
“Poor Armand? What do you mean?”
“Well, he kinda trapped Armand, you know. Armand didn’t have any friends or family. Then Marius came and saved him, just to use him as a toy.”
“I’ve never heard it quite like that before. Marius is from a different time. How do you know about Armand?”
“I saw him in Marius’s thoughts. He thought about the first time he had fed from Armand, and Armand from him, while I was feeding from him.”
Louis was starting to feel a little too awkward. It was obvious she hadn’t wanted to talk about what her father had done to her, and now she was starting to talk about Marius’s thoughts. “You have Lestat and Marius’s blood in you now. You’re very powerful, for someone so young.”
“I am?”
“Yes, but you should talk to someone else about that. Marius, or David. Perhaps, in time, Lestat.”
“Why can’t I talk to you about it?”
“I’m the weakest of us all. I wouldn’t be of much help. For now, however, you should get ready to sleep. The sun will be coming up soon.” Louis rose and closed Christine’s shutters and curtains before leaving. “Sleep well, Christine.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Seven
Christine woke the next night with the same hunger she’d felt after she had run from the flat. She knew that she had to drink blood to survive, but the thought of it upset her stomach. For a while she paced around her room, picking up this and that. She managed to keep herself entertained by playing with a pen for a few minutes. Everything seemed strange to her lately. She couldn’t explain it, but shiny things were shinier, and rough things were rougher. Christine wanted to leave her room and go for a walk. She wanted to go to a garden; she’d liked gardens so much before. The idea of getting to look at, smell, and touch the flowers with her new senses seemed so exciting to her. Most of all, however, she wanted to go to church. She hadn’t received Communion for a long time, and this seemed like the time for it more than ever.
Anything that would get her out of this room seemed good to her at the moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Lestat was in the house somewhere, unless he’d gone back to St. Elizabeth’s. Besides, she’d lived her father for so long that his rules were ingrained in her. One of his rules was that she couldn’t leave her room without permission. She knew it was silly to still be adhering to his restrictions, but she couldn’t help it. She paced in front of the door for what seemed like hours. Every few moments she’d stop and reach for the doorknob, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. Finally, she gave up and sat in the center of her bed and began to pray. “Dear God. I don’t know if you’re allowed to love me anymore, but I just thought I should let you know that I still love you. I hope Mama’s not too sad over what happened to me. Could you tell her that while I was dying, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see her again? I know she didn’t care too much for me, and I was a mistake. I still love her though, cause she’s the only mama I got. Is Claudia in heaven? I know she did bad things, but she was only a little girl, and little kids aren’t supposed to be able to sin ‘cause they don’t know right from wrong. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, cause I need to kill people so I don’t die.” She stopped praying and sat on her bed looking into a full-length mirror that was in the corner next to a dresser. Remembering what Louis had said, she unbuttoned her shirt and looked at the scars on her torso. They weren’t so bad in the front because he hadn’t wanted to hurt her breasts. There were long scars across her back, though. She couldn’t see them, but he had used a belt to whip her when he was especially angry, and it usually left her back very bloody and sore. Cuts like that had to scar.
Before her mother had died, Christine’s life had seemed so promising. She’d been ahead in most of her classes, and people liked her. She had taken piano lessons, but never managed to get beyond nursery songs and lullabies. Singing had been what Christine could do. She sang in her church’s choir. It was an adult choir, but she joined them when she was only seven. They made an exception for her because her father was so respected, and because she could sing so well. The only other times she sang were when she was alone, or to her mother. Her mother would come home from the bars late at night, very drunk, and see that Thomas wasn’t home. Then she’d start crying, and Christine would sing to her while she lay in bed and cried. Because her mother was always drunk, Christine had to sing very quietly so she wouldn’t hurt her head. It always felt like they were keeping a secret when she sang so quietly. She hadn’t really sung since her mother died, except when she visited the place where_he’d_ buried the bodies.
That was when everyone had turned on her. After her mother’s death, Christine and Thomas spent a lot of time together. People would see the two of them walking through town together, and Christine would always be pulling away from him. Everyone thought she was being ungrateful. As her grades in school dropped and she became less and less in touch with the world, people thought she should be sent away. They all gave up on her. Never thinking it could be his fault, they just assumed she’d become retarded, or a lunatic. Everyone thought better of Thomas for “dealing with that devil child.”
Christine pulled herself out of her thoughts, and returned to praying.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The moment they woke, Louis, David and Marius had pounced on Lestat. They had started by working on him in turns, all trying to find some way to prove to him that Christine was his fledgling. Marius had tried pulling rank, Louis had tried every emotional tactic he could, and David was straightforward and logical. Armand was, as always, on the sofa listening to the performance, and glaring across the room at Marius whenever he got the chance.
“Lestat, you have to accept that Christine is your fledgling. Why else would her mind be blocked from you?” David should have known that logic wouldn’t work on Lestat. He leaned against the windowsill, waiting for Lestat’s next insane remark.
“There could be several reasons why her mind is blocked from me. Claudia is my fledgling, not Christine.”
“Lestat.” Louis knelt next to Lestat’s chair and placed a hand over his lover’s. “I love Claudia as much as you do, but she’s gone. I can even understand how you could mistake Christine for Claudia, but Christine is the one you brought to the flat a few nights ago. She’s terrified, Lestat. Her father was abusing her severely because she reminded him of her mother. She dyed her hair blond so that she wouldn’t look like her mother any more, then she ran away. All she wants is a chance to feel happy and safe.”
Lestat hated seeing Louis so upset. “Why do you care about her so much? You barely even know her.”
“I knew even less about Claudia when she first joined us, but that didn’t stop me from loving her.”
“Do you love her, Louis? Would you leave me for her if she beckoned you?”
Louis looked down, avoiding Lestat’s eyes. This was the same question Claudia had asked of him, and Lestat knew it. How dare Lestat quote his own book to him? “Lestat, I can’t choose between you and an innocent child. She needs someone to love her. Maybe she is Claudia returned, just not the way you mean it. Maybe - if we can help Christine, we can make up for what happened with Claudia. Then – then, perhaps Claudia’s death won’t have been a complete loss.”
Louis pleaded silently as he looked into the slate gray eyes in front of him. Then, suddenly, something changed in Lestat. It was something small and unseen, but it was there. For the first time since the whole ordeal had started, _Lestat_ broke eye contact. He looked at his hands, unsure of what to say.
“Louis’s right, you know.” Marius shifted in the loveseat, resting an elbow on the armrest and bowing his head. “Losing a fledgling is the worst thing one of us can go through, especially if we blame ourselves. You can try all you want to get Claudia back, but you never will. You made mistakes, some unforgivable.” He stopped, and Armand caught him wipe his thumb over his cheek. “She was always just out of reach, and she always will be. Even if you_were_ able to get her back, she would be different. Childhood isn’t meant to last forever, and it never does. When you make a child’s body immortal, they still grow. They become trapped in the confines of a child, and are rarely treated as anything but one as a result. Finally, you make the inevitable mistake of treating them as nothing more than what they appear to be. Then you try to find some way to make amends for all your mistakes and just make things worse. Don’t take your anger out on Christine; she doesn’t deserve it. What’s more, she’s fated for the same defeat. She has a problem quite the opposite of Claudia’s, and it can destroy her in an instant.” He paused and sighed. “I can’t think of more than three of us who have had to suffer through what Christine has suffered. Even then, Mekare and Maharet had the good fortune of being together through it, and having it only happening once.” His voice dropped, and his next words were more to himself then anyone else. “Perhaps Christine is right about me.”
Lestat was finally beat. For all his stubbornness, he knew what Louis and Marius were saying was true. “I know. I’ll go talk to her.” Lestat stood and walked down the hall to Christine’s room.
Louis went over to Marius. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” Marius stood and went to the door. “I should be going. I told Pandora I wouldn’t be gone long.” With that, he left.
“Armand, aren’t you going to go after him? Armand?” Louis turn around to see only David in the room at his position by the windowsill. “Where did Armand go?”
David pointed down the hall. “He left as Marius was going.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Armand lay curled on his side, in the middle of his bed. He was sobbing to himself, and hugging a pillow to his chest. “Padrone. Don’t give up on me. I’m sorry. You can have me back, you can. Padrone, don’t leave me.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Eight
A knock disturbed Christine’s prayers. Quickly buttoning up her shirt, she hopped off the bed and went to answer it. “Hello, Christine.” She jumped. She hadn’t been expecting Lestat. Armand had seemed a more likely visitor to her. “I’m sorry if I startled you, and about everything before.”
“It’s all right. Louis explained everything.” She stepped away from the door and gestured for him to come in. Lestat entered and sat in the chair by the desk. Christine took her place on the edge of the bed, leaving the door open just in case.
“So he explained everything, did he?”
“Well, everything he thought I needed to know about Claudia.” She could tell he was as uncomfortable about the whole situation as she was.
“That’s still no excuse for the way I treated you. It wasn’t fair of me to blame you for what happened to Claudia.” He smiled bitterly to himself. “I’ve never been especially good at dealing with things.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Lestat broke the silence with some idle chitchat. “Were you praying before I came in?”
“Umm, yeah. Could you hear me? I didn’t mean for anyone to hear. People at home usually don’t hear me, even if I talk right to them.”
“Oh, I didn’t hear what you were saying. I could just tell you were talking to yourself.” The conversation died again. This wasn’t going anywhere, and both of them knew it. Lestat, of course, had to break the awkward silence somehow. “Do you still need to feed?”
“Marius says I do. I’m kinda surprised that he hasn’t stopped by to remind me yet.”
“I think he left.”
“What? He left? Why?”
“Things are rather tense between him and Armand.”
“Aren’t things tense between Armand and everyone?”
Lestat chuckled. “Well, yes, but it’s different between Armand and Marius. The maker/fledgling relationship is involved in their tension.”
“Oh. I see. Do Benji and Sybelle have something to do with it?”
“How do you know about them?”
“When I fed from Marius, those names were kinda floating all over the place.”
“Oh.” After a good ten minutes of silence, Lestat was willing to try anything to liven things up. “I’m going to go feed. Would you like to join me?” So he was lying. He wasn’t actually going to feed. In fact, he didn’t need to anymore.
“I don’t know. I don’t like the whole feeding idea. It curdles my stomach.”
“Dear god, I’ve made another one!” Lestat tossed his hands in the air and shook his head.
“Made another one what?”
“You and Louis. Neither if you can stomach feeding, so to speak. Are you going to live off rats and poodles?”
“Actually, I was a vegetarian.”
“My dear, that won’t do. Vegetables don’t have quite what we need.” He winked at her playfully.
“Well, yeah. I have to drink blood so I can live, I know.” She stopped and thought about feeding, and how it kept a vampire strong. “Actually, there’s something I was wondering. I talked to Louis about it last night.”
“Yes? If I can help, I will. If I can’t, well, I may try anyway.”
“Louis said that my scars wouldn’t fade until I was very old or powerful. Is that really the only way to get them to go away, to wait?”
“No, there’s one other way I can think of. Actually, it’s just a theory. I haven’t ever needed scars to fade. I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“What? I’ll try anything.”
“In theory, _theory_, if you were to cut open the scar, then when it healed it should heal without a mark.”
“Is there any way to be sure?”
“Nothing short of testing it.”
Christine pushed up her sleeve and looked at some of the scars on her arm. She jiggled her foot a little; it was a nervous habit of hers. “Could you help me?”
“You want to try it? Are you sure?”
“I want these scars gone. Like I said, I’ll try anything.”
Lestat sighed. “Okay, just a minute.” He fished through the desk drawers, and finally pulled out a small penknife. Christine knelt in front of him and held out her arm, which he took it hesitantly. “Are you positive about this?” She nodded, and he pulled the knife across her skin. She winced, and a few drops of blood bubbled up before the wound healed. And the wound had healed, leaving the skin beneath the blood pristine and unmarked.
Lestat opened the rest of the scars on both of her arms. Each healed perfectly. Then she looked at him almost sheepishly. “Could you help me – with the scars on my back?” Lestat nodded, and she turned her back to him. She pulled her hair over in front of her shoulder and unbuttoned her shirt. Slipping the shirt off, she held it against her chest.
Lestat started opening the scars on her back when Armand passed the room and, after peeking in quickly, sarcastically called down the hall, “Lestat’s about to execute Christine.”
Louis and David, thinking he was serious, came running. Louis knew what they were doing once he got there, and left them to their business. This just confused David more. “Louis, where are you - ? Lestat, what are you doing?” He was trying to look at Lestat without looking at Christine.
Lestat, trying to pay attention to what he was doing, answered airily. “Just healing some old scars.”
David looked at them for a moment before he left. He returned a moment later to close the door. Christine and Lestat both chuckled. After Lestat finished with her back, he left so she could heal the rest of her scars. She thanked him, and agreed to let him take her out to feed once she was done.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Nine
Christine came out into the living room, all her scars healed, to find Lestat. He was sitting in his armchair playing a game of chess with David, who had finally given up his post by the window for the edge of the sofa. The chessboard was very ornate. It was actually a large box with squares on the top and bottom. When opened, the outer area made the board. The black squares appeared to be onyx, and the white ones looked like opal. The pieces were all silver with pedestals of either black or white marble. Pulling her eyes off of the shimmering chess game, Christine saw Louis sitting in the corner reading a tattered, old hardcover.
Lestat finished off the game and turned to Christine. “Everything taken care of?” She nodded as her eyes began to focus on the glistening gameboard again. “Very good. I took the liberty of getting you some new clothes.” He pointed to a small mountain of boxes by the door. “I hope you don’t mind. I just thought you might want something clean to change into before we go out. Everything should be your size, so you just need to find something you like. The boxes right next to the door are shoes.”
Christine walked over to the stack of boxes and looked through them, carefully lifting the top off of each and meticulously folding back the tissue paper each time. There was an assortment of tank tops, a few tube tops, a couple of sweaters, a pair or two of leather pants, some very short skirts, three pairs of shorts that couldn’t go much beyond mid-thigh, and a few long skirts. The shoes were all fine, black, leather. Most of them were boots of varying heights and heel sizes; the rest were just dressy. “Lestat, I really can’t accept all of this.”
Lestat just smiled at her. “Of course you can, because I refuse to take it back.”
Christine chuckled. “No, really. It’s all beautiful, and I love it, but Daddy would never - ” She trailed off and looked at the ground, making circles on the carpet with her toes. The three men in the room watched, expecting her to burst into tears at any moment. She ran her hand over her stomach before looking up. “I don’t have to be afraid of him any more, do I?”
“No, Christine. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Lestat’s voice was soft and caressing. This was a voice he usually saved for comforting Louis, but perhaps if had used it with Claudia things would have turned out better.
Christine nodded and picked up some of the clothes. “I’ll go change then.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Christine returned after a few minutes dressed nothing like herself. She wore a skintight tank top of deep burgundy. The neckline almost reached the top of her bra, and would show the top of the cups if she wasn’t careful. The bra, courtesy of Lestat, was simple black satin. She was sure it would have been more ornate had Lestat been accustomed to buying ladies’ underwear. She’d chosen a pair of black leather pants to wear, as she wasn’t quite ready for the short skirts just yet. The boots she wore only went up to her ankles, but they formed well to her feet. The heels were at least four inches, but she wasn’t having much trouble walking in them. As she entered the room, the three men all looked up. She blushed deeply, which was quite a feat since she hadn’t yet fed. As the blood left her face, the black and red made her seem paler than she was. Lestat ginned proudly at his creation, then jumped out of his seat and went to the door. “Shall we go?”
Christine walked to the door with her arms crossed in front of her. The only tank tops she had ever worn had been under sweaters, and even then they were neither low cut or tight. Once she reached the door, Lestat took a black leather trench off of the coat rack and handed it to her. “Oh, I forgot to mention, I got you a coat too.” She stared at him blankly for a moment before laughing softly and shaking her head at him. He helped her slip the coat on and pulled on his own.
The two left and made their way out into the night streets of New Orleans. As they walked, they talked about insignificant little things. They had a rather lengthy discussion on the use of brick walls for the disposal of chewing gum. Their ultimate conclusion was that people should just throw their gum into the trash rather than throwing it on the ground for someone to step on, or sticking it to a wall where someone may lean. They then moved to the conclusion that people were generally idiots. That started a new discussion about George W. Bush and the effect of his possible presidency on the United States. Lestat had to stop occasionally to explain some term to Christine, but she was able to keep up with the conversation quite well.
Finally, the two reached one of the newer New Orleans cemeteries, and Lestat gestured for her to go in. Christine hesitated a moment. “This is where I’m gonna find someone to feed from?”
“There are always people going in and out of here. This late at night, it’s usually some of the less charming members of society. Just wait for someone to come. If you need help, which you won’t, just call for me.”
“You aren’t going to stay?”
“You need to learn to feed on your own. One thing, though, stop drinking before the heart stops. Dead blood isn’t especially good.” With that, Lestat went and hid around a corner to watch her.
Christine walked around one or two of the tombstones before hopping up to sit on top of one. She picked at her fingernails and ran her hands over the smooth leather of her pants. Finally, out of complete boredom, she decided to sing. She tried to think of a song she could remember all the words to. Finally, she managed to remember “Not a Pretty Girl.” It was a song she had listened to not long before she ran away. The singer was someone she liked very much, and she’d heard most of the woman’s songs. Ani DiFranco. Her father would have hated the music she sang. The songs were all very powerful, and there were frequently curses in them. However, her father wasn’t here anymore, so she began to sing:
“I am not a pretty girl/ That is not what I do/ I ain’t no damsel in distress/ And I don’t need to be rescued/ So put me down punk/ Wouldn’t you prefer a maiden fair/ Isn’t there a kitten/ Stuck up a tree somewhere.”
She sung much lower now than she ever had in the church choir. Her voice took on a low, rather sensuous timbre. Closing her eyes, she began rock back and forth to the music, her expressions changing as she sang each line. Her voice crescendo as the song’s intensity increased.
“I am not an angry girl/ But it seems like/ I’ve got everyone fooled/ Everytime I say something/ They find hard to hear/ They chalk it up to my anger/ And never to their own fear/ Imagine you’re a girl/ Just trying to finally come clean/ Knowing full well they’d prefer/ You were dirty/ And smiling/ I’m sorry/ But I am not a maiden fair/ And I am not a kitten/ Stuck up a tree somewhere.”
As Lestat watched her, he realized what Marius had meant when he said that Christine had the opposite problem of Claudia. Claudia had been a grown woman trapped in a child’s body, and she’d been driven mad because of it. All you had to do was look at Christine and you could tell that she did not posses a child’s body. She was quite voluptuous, with full hips and bust, but a somewhat narrow waist. Her face was serene and gently angular. She had long, fine arms, legs and hands. Yet she was no woman. Christine was a child trapped in a grown body, and she’d been tormented because of it.
“Generally my generation/ Wouldn’t be caught dead/ Working for the man/ And generally I agree with them/ Trouble is you got to have yourself/ An alternate plan/ I have earned my disillusionment/ I have been working all of my life/ I am a patriot/ I have been fighting the good fight/ And what if there/ Are no damsels in distress/ What if I knew that/ And I called your bluff/ Don’t you think every kitten/ Figures out how to get down/ Whether or not you ever show up.”
A man came around the bend and interrupted the end of Christine’s song. “Hey, honey. What are you doing out here so late at night?”
Christine opened her eyes and looked at him before smiling at him innocently. “Just trying to satisfy my appetite. Why are you doing out here so late at night?”
The man looked at her oddly, and his thin brown eyebrows came together in confusion. “Your – uh – appetites tend towards the dead?”
She tossed her head back and laughed lightly. Looking back at him, she caught his warm brown eyes with her soft blue gaze. “Not quite. I need someone a little more active to satisfy this appetite.”
The man smiled at her and ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “You think I could help? Sweet little thing like you should always be satisfied.”
“Would you like to dance?”
“What? Here?”
“Is there a better place? I thought you wanted to help satisfy me. We’ll need to be close.”
The man was probably in his early twenties, and he seemed quite drunk. He just grinned again. “Okay. Let’s get close.”
Christine hopped off of the tombstone and walked to the man, putting her arms around his neck. The boots made her just tall enough that she could reach his throat with no problem. The man slipped his arms around her waist, making a grab for her buttocks. “Ah – ah. Just dance. You’ll be quite pleased in a moment.” They began to dance around the cemetery. At first they just swayed side to side, but as he became more aggressive, she began spinning away from him. She would return in a moment and the dance would continue. Eventually, he started spinning her, and he would occasionally dip her very low so he would get a good view of her breasts. Finally the time came. She moved very close to him and kissed his neck softly. He was immediately aroused, and she could feel him pushing his hips into hers, his sex quite attentive. She licked his neck lightly and he groaned. Finally, she pressed her hip against his crotch, and while he luxuriated in the pressure, bit into his vein.
The blood flowed into her mouth, and it reminded her of hot chocolate on cold winter nights by the fire with her mother and Thomas. The euphoria began to set in, and she felt that she could die right then and still be perfectly happy. The man was moaning and shuddering. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. She didn’t mind the closeness so much right now, it wasn’t important enough. The warm liquid flooding into her mouth was all that mattered at the moment. The blood was thick and warm and sweet. It rolled over her tongue and down her throat. She became painfully aware of the fact that his heart was slowing, slowing, slowing. His heart stopped, and she let go of him. His body slumped to the ground and she stood still for a moment, thinking she was on the brink of orgasm.
Lestat came out of his corner and she managed to snap herself out of it. “Well, was that so bad? I bet you don’t still prefer vegetables.”
She sighed and looked down at the body on the ground. Lestat bit the tip of his finger and put a few drops of blood on the wound “We must always make sure to cover our tracks.”
“Should I feel guilty?”
“It’s all right. Some guilt is normal in the beginning, but you’ll get used to it.”
“That’s just it. I don’t feel at all guilty.”
“Even better. Are you still hungry, or should we head home?”
“Aren’t you going to feed?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t – “
“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it. Let’s head back. I feel kinda tired, don’t you?”
“No. The younger you are, the earlier you go to sleep and the later you wake up. I’ve always been ‘a late to bed early to rise’ person anyway.”
As they walked back to the flat, Lestat complemented Christine on her voice and they talked about singing. Lestat told Christine about his time as a rock star, and she decided she had to see all of his music videos and listen to all of his songs. He remarked that Louis and David would be ecstatic to hear that he was going to be playing his old music again. Suddenly, Christine felt a foreboding. It was like a knot in her stomach, and she couldn’t explain what it was from. She realized that someone was walking behind them, and she began to panic.
She started to speeding up, and Lestat sped up with her. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. There’s someone following us. I just feel – I can’t explain it.”
All at once, the man following them called out to her. “Chrissy.”
Christine stopped dead in her tracks and, for all she could tell, her heart stopped beating. Everything around her froze as she turned and looked at her pursuer. “Daddy.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Ten
Lestat turned to see a tall man with dark blond hair and angry brown eyes standing before him. The man, Thomas, had a heavy build, but he wasn’t at all overweight. In all honesty, he seemed more a brick wall than a man.
Christine started to walk toward him out of habit more than anything else. She stopped in horror when she realized what she was doing.
Thomas was infuriated with her sudden show of independence. “You little tramp. What do you think you’re doing? Get – over – here.”
She shook her head slowly and started backing up until her back was against Lestat’s side. He took her hand and looked down at her, trying to decide what move to make.
Thomas saw this little sign of affection. “Look at you. Hanging out everywhere. And who’s this guy, your pimp?”
Lestat could feel Christine shaking against him. With a burst of pain and anger she managed to steady her voice. “No, Daddy, I’ll never be anyone’s whore but yours.”
Thomas advanced on them. “You ungrateful little slut! Thank God I managed to track you down. You’re already getting illusions that you’re worth something, aren’t you?”
Lestat started to move for Thomas, but Christine grabbed his arm. He looked into her eyes and saw a look he couldn’t explain. It was sheer terror, but he couldn’t tell if she was afraid for herself, her father, or him. All he knew was that she didn’t want him to do anything, and he had made enough situations in his past worse by jumping in. He wasn’t going to do it this time. Instead, he put his arm around Christine and started to walk her away.
Thomas grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to him. “Sorry, but you’ll just have to find yourself another little girl. This one’s mine.”
Christine started to cry. She dropped to her knees, held her head and started rocking back and forth. “No, no, no, no, no. How did you find me?”
“You stupid whore. When you’re trying to hide, don’t go helping people. Your little friend, what was her name? Oh yeah, Melissa. She saw your picture posted in the police station and called me. I took a plane out here, met with her, and tracked you down. Now you’re coming home.”
Lestat felt helpless. He wanted to do something, anything, but he knew that he couldn’t. Christine had to do this, and it was killing him. “Christine, let’s go. We can go back home where you’ll be safe.”
Thomas smiled menacingly. “Yes, Christine, let’s go home. You’ll be safe there. Haven’t I always taken care of you?”
Christine’s mind started racing at those words. When Thomas had married her mother he’d promised to take care of them. When he started working too much, he’d said it was because he was trying to take care of them. When he killed Red and her mother, he’d said she would be safe as long as she did what she was told. Once, when a jock had tried to rape Christine, Thomas had said that he would protect her. He’d always said that she was safest at home. He said that she had to stay with him so he could protect her and keep her safe. She stopped crying, and started to shake. In one fluid motion she stood and turned to face him. “No, Daddy. You’ve never taken care of me.” Her voice was shaking, but her body had steadied itself. Her words were almost venomous, and her father was surprised to hear them coming out of her. “I’ve never been safe around you.”
Thomas noticed the red streaks on her cheeks, and the tears creeping up in her eyes. “What the hell are you?”
Christine started to walk toward him, and her eyes drilled straight through his soul. Suddenly, he felt a pressure building in his chest. It felt like someone was squeezing his heart. He dropped to his knees and grabbed his chest. He started gasping as Christine stopped and stood directly in front of him. He looked up into her eyes, which had darkened to a navy color. “What are you doing? Chrissy? C’mon, sugar. Don’t do this. I love you.”
Christine’s face contorted, and her eyes seemed to turn black. She pinned her fists to the sides of her head, and blood ran out from where her nails went through the palms. “No, DADDY!” Her voice was a high screech, slightly reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t love me. You never did anything but hate me. All because I reminded you of Mama.” She bent down so her face was an inch away from his. Her voice dropped, and she held the sides of his face. “Well, you don’t own me, Daddy. You never owned me, and you can’t control me any more. You mean nothing. You ARE nothing.” She straightened herself and walked to Lestat.
Thomas slumped forward. His eyes turned red as the capillaries in them began to burst. His nose had started to bleed, and the veins in his neck and arms were swelling and darkened. “Chrissy, baby. Please.” He began to choke. All at once, the pain stopped and he collapsed on the ground. He started shaking as he looked up to see Christine watching him.
“I wasn’t going to kill you, Daddy. I’m not like you. I just wanted you to know what it was like to be trapped. And I wanted you to beg for your life, the way I’ve been begging God to save me from you. No, I won’t kill you, but you will pay.” With that, Christine began to walk away.
Lestat lingered for a moment to watch as Thomas managed to pick himself up. He looked at Lestat. “You can have her. Be careful she doesn’t stick a knife in your back.”
Lestat grinned. “Now that would be interesting. I’ve never had a redhead kill me.” He turned and caught up with Christine. Thomas watched the two of them turn the corner before he started heading back to his hotel. He’d catch a plane and be back in Georgia by morning.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Christine woke the next night and decided to feed early. She declined Lestat’s company, which he saw as a mixed blessing. On the one hand, she was out of her shell and could take care of herself. On the other hand, it had all happened so quickly. However, Louis and Lestat were confident that she was fine, and that her sudden show of control and independence was the result of facing her father. David was more skeptical. He was afraid she had grown too quickly and would crumble under too much pressure. Armand wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He was in his room moping. Everyone knew it was because of Marius.
Christine returned from feeding with a rosy glow. She joined Lestat and Louis in the living room. “Where’s David?” She took a portable CD player out of its drawer in an end table by the loveseat.
Louis looked up from his book. “He went out to feed about a half an hour ago. You were out for a rather long time.”
She began sorting through the discs in Lestat’s CD rack. “Yeah. I decided to go for a walk around the park.” She pulled out one of Lestat’s old albums, and Louis groaned.
Lestat looked up from his Rolling Stone, and feigned hurt. “Louis, you don’t like my music?”
Louis wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not, and he began to stammer. “Well – it’s just – it’s not that I don’t –“
Christine and Lestat began to laugh. “Louis, I was kidding. I know you don’t like my music. That’s why I told Christine she had to listen to it with headphones unless I was the only other one in the house.” Christine flopped down into the loveseat. She stretched out and pulled the headphones over her ears, popping the CD into its place. Lestat moaned. “Are you going to ignore me too? I thought I’d be able to stop reading when you got home, not start another magazine.” Christine smiled innocently at him and pressed the play button. Lestat frowned and pulled out a newer edition of Rolling Stone.
After a song or two Christine looked around the room and pulled off the headphones. “Has Armand left his room yet?”
Lestat and Louis’s heads shot up instantly. Lestat looked at her cautiously. “Why?”
Christine raised her eyebrows and shook her head a little. “Oh, just wondering.”
Lestat tried to figure out what she was up to, but he couldn’t tell. He proceeded with caution. “He went out for about fifteen minutes to feed. Then he came back and went to his room. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. This is all because he’s upset about Marius, right? I’m not wrong for thinking that?”
“Yes. Knowing Armand, this is one of his Marius tantrums.”
Louis cut in. “_Why_?”
“Just checking.” She slipped the headphones back on and snuggled down into the loveseat. Louis and Lestat looked at each other for a long moment, both trying to think of what Christine could be up to. Finally, they settled back to their reading.
After another few minutes Christine stood, put the CD player neatly on the coffee table, and headed for the hall. Lestat and Louis exchanged worried glances. She strolled down the hall, and when she reached her room she kept walking. She stopped at the last door on the left. Lestat got up and peeked around the corner. “Louis. She’s at Armand’s door.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
Christine knocked on the door and Armand answered by shouting from the other side. “What?”
“Can I come in?”
“What do you want?”
“To come in.”
She heard Armand grunt and walk toward the door. He opened it and looked her straight in the eyes. “Go play with Lestat.”
He started to close the door, but she stopped him. “I’d really rather not.”
“You aren’t going to go away, are you?”
“No.” She smiled cheerily, and Armand thought he was going to be sick.
He stepped back from the door and groaned. “Fine, come in. But you’re not going to take long.”
Christine walked into the room, calling behind her into the hall. “Lestat. Sit.”
Armand sat in a large wooden chair by the window, and Christine helped herself to the top of the dresser. “So what do you want? Now that you’ve come in, I mean.” He smiled bitterly at her.
“Lestat’s right. You are vindictive.”
Armand snorted. “Since when do you even know what vindictive means?”
“I read the dictionary last night when I got back from feeding.”
“You read the dictionary?”
“I was bored. Besides, the pages were silky and I like the smell of old books. And I can read really fast now.”
“You must be SO excited.”
She just looked at him for a moment before getting to the point. “Why aren’t you giving Marius another chance?”
Armand almost jumped out of his seat with shock. He looked at her like a deer in headlights before getting angry. “How_dare_you?! How dare you come in here and start asking things that are none of your business. What do you even know about me and Marius?”
“I know enough that I can tell you’re either really hurt or really stupid and that’s why you aren’t giving him another chance.”
“You know enough?! You don’t know anything! You can’t imagine what I’ve been through.”
She smiled gently at him. “No one ever told you what Thomas did to me, huh?”
“Thomas?”
“My father.”
Armand grumbled. “Louis said something about him abusing you.”
“I guess he never mentioned that Thomas killed my mother right in front of me. I know he didn’t mention that Thomas raped me while I was lying between Red and my mother’s corpses because I never told him that.”
Armand felt a small pang of guilt for yelling at her. He dropped his voice to a normal level, but even his normal voice sounded angry. “Why are you telling ME this?”
“Because I know what it’s like to go through hell without being loved.”
“So you’re trying to relate to me? Get out.”
Christine didn’t budge. “I’m not trying to relate to you. You’ve definitely been through more than I have, but you can’t blame Marius for it.” She thought about her words for a minute. “Let me rephrase that. You can blame Marius for all of it, and you should at least try to forgive him for the rest.”
“Do you forgive your father?”
“I’ll forgive him as soon as Mama does.”
“I thought your mother was dead.”
“Yeah. Thomas didn’t love me.”
“And you think Marius loves me? What would make you say something like that?”
“Did he try and force you to go back with him?”
“No, but Marius has a habit of abandoning me. He did it centuries ago when Santino kidnapped me.”
“Oh, you mean the same Santino who burned down Marius’s palazzo and set him on fire? The same one who you ended up serving?”
“How do you -?”
“I read the Vampire Chronicles after the dictionary.”
“Lovely. And yes, the same Santino. But I wouldn’t have served him if Marius had come and saved me. I had to kill my best friend.”
“You didn’t have to. You could have starved, but you were as much a slave to your thirst as Marius was to his burns. Besides, all he knew was that some vampires had come, set him on fire, burned down his home, and killed his children.”
“Well, what about before that when he made go to the brothels? He’d leave me there so long I’d lose count of the days.”
“That would be one of the mistakes you need to forgive him for, even though it was stupid.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Armand crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down in his chair to pout.
Christine could see the tears coming up in his eyes, but she knew he didn’t want to cry in front of her. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Yes I do.”
She sighed and watched the figure before her sulk. “And you wonder why people have a tendency to treat you like a child.”
“I have every right to be mad at him. Even after everything, he came back and turned my companions into vampires. He knew I wouldn’t want that.”
“How do you know? He can’t read your mind like he can read others. He wanted to save you from going through with Benji and Sybelle what he went through with you.”
“So what he went through with me was bad?”
“Armand, you know that’s not what I meant. He wanted to keep you from having to feel guilty about giving them the Dark Gift. He wanted to save you from having to keep the blood from them, and having them possibly hate you for it. He wanted to keep you from being separated from their minds. He was trying to help, although he may have botched it up.”
“May have?”
“Who knows? Maybe some day you’ll thank him.”
“I highly doubt it.”
Christine hopped off of the dresser. “Poor stubborn bastard. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“And what is that?”
“He’d give his life for you if he could.”
Christine crossed the room and opened the door. She stepped out into the hallway when Armand called after her. “What did you say about Marius?”
“What?” She turned and came back into the room, closing the door halfway.
“Right before Marius left he mumbled to himself, ‘Maybe Christine was right about me.’ What did you say?”
“Well, nothing to him, but he could probably pick it up from my mind or Louis’s. When Louis and I were talking the night I came back, I called Marius a dirty old man, and said that I thought he took unfair advantage of you. I said he used you as a toy, but I know now that I was wrong.”
“He doesn’t seem to think so.”
“That’s how you can tell he really loves you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bad ones don’t think they make mistakes, whereas love and guilt tend to be good friends. Good night, Armand.”
Armand looked away and Christine left him to think about what she had said. She returned to the living room where she found Lestat, Louis, David and Marius. They all watched her enter the room, and she looked around trying to avoid their eyes. “Christine, my dear.” Lestat stepped toward her. “Look who David ran into on his way home.”
“Why, Marius. Whatever could you be doing here?”
Marius looked at her, his confusion evident. “You called and said something was wrong with Armand.”
David turned to Christine. “Marius was nearly hysterical. You shouldn’t play tricks like that on people.”
“It was no trick. Armand is very upset. He doesn’t think Marius really loves him.”
Louis put his hand over his eyes. “Please don’t say you tried to talk to Armand about Marius.”
“Of course not, Louis. I would never_try_to talk to Armand about Marius. That would be impossible. I just went in and started talking, and refused to leave.”
They heard Armand’s door open, and he came down the hall. The moment he saw Marius he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Christine, who smiled at him. He came the rest the way down the hall and looked at her suspiciously. “You’re meddlesome, you know that?”
“And you’re almost as much of a brat as Lestat.”
Armand dropped his eyes to the floor and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He lingered in the hall by Christine, they others standing silently about three feet away. No one was quite sure what to do. Christine whispered into Armand’s mind, “Would you talk to him?” Then she quickly shoved him forward.
Armand stumbled and ran into Marius, who caught him as he was about to fall. He looked up into his maker’s eyes and thought he was going to cry. Snapped his head back down, he thought about how much he had hurt Marius. He hadn’t really meant to; he was just so angry and sad. He had waited so long for Marius to come save him from Santino, but he never had. He thought of the time in California when they all came together as a coven. He’d been so confused when Marius came to them. All he’d wanted to do was be with him and make up for everything that had gone wrong. He remembered how Marius had said he loved him. He could remember the exact words. “I love you. I have always loved you. I wish I could believe in anything other than love at this moment; but I can’t.”
Armand looked up to Marius, and then he nodded to the door to the garden and walked away. Marius was hesitant but he followed, deciding he would not even think of Armand forgiving him.
Armand turned a few quick corners, and Marius lost sight of him. After wandering through the garden for a minute or two, he found the boy sitting on a bench under a willow. Marius stopped a foot or two from the bench and waited for some sign of what he was supposed to do. He wanted to throw his arms around his lover and beg for forgiveness, but he managed to stay put.
As he looked at his maker, tears began to well up in Armand’s eyes. He whispered in a small, choked voice, “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?” The tears began to roll down Armand’s cheeks.
Marius ran to him and pulled him close. He kissed the tears from Armand’s cheeks and cooed to him. “I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. You never have to be sorry for anything, never. I have done horrid things. I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness.”
He held the boy to him and heard Armand whisper in his ear, “I’ve always forgiven you, but I could never forgive myself.”
Armand put his arms around his maker and kissed his lips. Marius thought he would die then and there. He had been waiting so long to feel Armand this closely again. Suddenly, his fledgling pulled away. Marius braced himself for a change of heart, but was relieved to see Armand looking at him gently. He watched as Armand tilted his head to the side and leaned forward.
Armand closed his eyes and felt his maker’s hand run over his throat. He felt Marius’s hair brush against his face as the elder vampire kissed his neck. This was how he had wanted it to be in California so many years ago, but he hadn’t been able to admit it. As he felt Marius’s fangs break his flesh and the warm blood flow out of him, he sighed. Or was it a gasp? He felt a hand on the back of his head gently guiding him to his maker’s throat. He let his lips brush against the preternatural flesh before he broke it. Marius moaned softly.
The two of them stayed there the majority of the night, Armand sitting on the bench and Marius kneeling before him, their arms around one another.
* * * * * * * * * * *
As he watched Marius walk out behind Armand, Lestat turned to Christine. “You know, he’s_really_ going to hate you now that you’ve interfered in his life. Even if it does turn out well between him and Marius.”
Christine leaned back against the wall. “I don’t care if he hates me, as long as he gives Marius another chance.” Her face saddened slightly. She looked down at her hands and began to pick at her fingernails.
Louis watched her for a moment. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
She concentrated on her nails even more now. “Yeah, it’s just, well – I don’t know. Armand’s gonna forgive Marius. He’s wanted to for a while. They’re gonna go off and be really happy together, for a while at least. Maybe forever. I guess I just wish I coulda had that, too.” She shrugged and crossed her hands over her chest.
David, always looking for answers, asked as gently as he could, “But why did you help them? We all know you are not very fond of Marius, and Armand never treated you especially well. Why did you do it?”
She gave him a look of complete sadness. “Because I knew how he felt. And I know how I would have felt if I had found out that someone felt for me the way Marius feels for Armand.” She looked back at the ground and scuffed her shoe on the carpet.
Louis stepped forward and put his arms around Christine. He kissed the top of her head. “We really_do_ love you. I hope you know that.”
She looked up into Louis’s eyes. “Thank you, Louis, but it’s more than that. Marius is absolutely devoted to Armand. The way you were to Claudia, and are to Lestat.” She smiled weakly at him to try and make him feel better. She thought he looked like_he_ was about to cry. She pulled away slowly. “I have to go write a letter to the police back home.” She turned and walked to her room silently.
Louis checked on her an hour or two before dawn. She was hunched over her desk, writing furiously. Balls of paper were scattered around the room. The trash barrel was overflowing, and there was a small collection around the base. Christine was muttering to herself about spelling and grammar, and how much trouble commas were. Louis wished her a good day’s sleep, and reminded her to close the shutters and curtains before she went to bed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter Twelve
Christine managed to get her letter written the following night, and she had Louis edit it before she sent it off. Lestat paid for the letter to be sent overnight. Shortly after, the news started talking about the grisly double homicide that took place in a small town outside of Savannah. Lestat made arrangements so Christine wouldn’t be needed in court. All she had to do was go to Georgia and give a statement that she was, in fact, the one who wrote the letter. Because it was such an obviously open and shut case, it was decided that Christine’s sexual assault would not need to be brought into court for any reason.
While she was in Atlanta giving her statement, she went back to the town where it had all started. She stopped by the cemetery and visited her mother’s tombstone. Lestat had paid for a full burial, but the body couldn’t be put to rest until the police were sure they had gotten every piece of evidence that they needed.
She went to her old home and picked up a few things she wanted to keep. A few pieces of jewelry that had belonged to her mother and a doll her real father had sent to her when she was two. It was the only thing he ever did to prove that he knew she existed. The rest Christine left for Thomas or his relatives.
As she walked along the streets with Lestat and Louis - David had decided to stay in New Orleans - she knew everyone hated her more than ever. She had gotten out and found a better place. What’s more, she had brought the dark side of the town to light.
The news stations made it sound like everyone had drawn numbers to see who could beat Christine first. They attacked Thomas, for obvious reasons. They went after the school system, her doctor, and her priest for not reporting the abuse. They even questioned the police department as to why they hadn’t looked into the disappearances of two citizens, just based on the statement of one man. Christine sat back and watched it all without seeing a single picture of herself.
Thomas was found guilty of the murder of Red Jacobs and Sharon Hopkins, and sentenced to death. His property was supposed to go to Christine, but she turned it down. Lestat legally adopted Christine, to avoid any legal matters that might come up as a result of her being a minor. Her mother got the proper burial she deserved, and at the last minute the body was transported to New Orleans where Christine could visit the grave. Christine formed the habit of going to her mother’s grave every Sunday. There, she would sing “Ave Maria,” every version she could remember. She always sang very quietly, and it always felt like she was telling her mother a secret that would stay between them forever.
END