MW#1 Louis/Lestat rated G. Disclaimers up the yingyang. Her characters, not mine, etc. etc, etc.

'A Tale'
By Francoise


Come closer, for I have a tale to tell - something from the old days, from the gilded century when life was wrapped in velvet and silk. Something from the time our lives were illuminated by flickering candles or by the eerie glow of gaslamps.

Intrigued? Of course you are. You've always hung on every word I've penned or uttered. If you haven't, well then, it's your loss.

The event took place during the reign of the Unholy Family of Rue Royale, somewhere in the early forties. Wonderful time for fashion, still enough of the old elegance around before men became encased in dull the grays and blacks of the Victorian era.

An invitation rested on the front parlor mantle. An invitation to a Quadroon Ball was extended only to the wealthiest of men. It was an opportunity for a lively evening filled with beautiful women and men. The gentlemen of the surrounding parishes swarmed to the balls in order to find a charming mistress. Except for me. I went to graze. The sight of all that flesh was better than an Easter feast after a long Lenten fast.

Of course, I'd drag Louis along, mainly for the reason of simply seeing him dressed and preened in his finest. He did enjoy the dancing, (no matter how bitterly he complained), and oh, how I enjoyed watching him dance!

Louis had taken far too long in dressing. He stood puzzling over which swallow-tail coat to wear... the deep forest green or the black. I stood in the doorway, arms folded and foot tapping in agitation.

"Do make a decision, Louis. I want to be fashionably late, not the last to arrive." I lifted my lip and displayed a fang. "Take the green one..." I strode into his room. "Your waistcoat has green embroidery... it will accentuate your eyes."

He gave me an exasperated glance, but permitted me to help him shrug into it.

"You've mussed your hair." I took him by the shoulders and spun him to face the mirror. Picking up the silver backed brushes, I proceeded to smooth his lustrous black hair. "The mode is to part it thusly..." I made a center part from the crown to forehead. "There. Perfectly fashionable."

He seized the brushes from my hands and turned on me.

"You should look at yourself. You look as if you've never seen a brush or a comb in your entire life." He tossed one of the brushes on the bed and tried to tame my wayward mop. "Why do you always look as if you're in the center of a whirlwind?" He stepped back and watched as my hair fell back into it's natural state. "Mon Dieu... I give up."

I gave him a dazzling smile. "Thank you for endeavoring to make this ruffian into a gentleman."

He returned this with a wry expression. "Save it for the ladies."

I took his hand and kissed it. "I'd rather have you than any lady."

Louis snapped his hand away from me. "If you start that we shall never arrive at the ball."

This time I gave him my very best bedroom-eyed seductive expression. "The house is quiet. She'll be gone for hours and hours."

He picked up his cape and swirled it around his shoulders. "That is exactly what you said the last time. When we were nearly caught, you faulted me with it for a week." He looked at me in the mirror. "Straighten your tie, the carriage has arrived."

I followed him down the stairs and out the front door, unfurling my cloak from the coat tree as I passed. Louis sat opposite from me in the carriage, green eyes downcast. He seemed to be studying the texture of his gloves.

"I do not know why we could not have walked," he said at last breaking the silence.

"To arrive in a carriage is far more elegant than arriving on foot," I replied.

"You do enjoy making a great entrance," he smiled slightly.

"We cause a stir, do we not? Are there any two men in all of New Orleans who are more attractive than we?"

"And what if there were?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"I should murder them in their beds." I laughed.

"Like a thief in the night."

"That is exactly what we are, Louis. Thieves in the night."

The carriage lurched to a stop before he could answer.

The ball was held at what is now known as the Bourbon Orleans Hotel. Amazing how some places stand the test of time. It was a glittering affair. Lovely young women attired in silk gowns, heavily chaperoned by Aunties and Mammas, giggled and flushed behind their fans. Gentlemen smiled and bowed to them, invited them to dance. If there was a spark between the pair, the gentleman asked the Mamma for permission to call on the daughter, to pay court to her. If love bloomed, the young woman was setup in a household of her own, complete with servants. If not, well, there would always be another ball for these multi-raced beauties.

The first dance, always a quadrille, had just ended as we entered the ballroom. I watched as Louis made his way through the receiving line. He was so good at the charade. He took the hand of a pretty little thing in a yellow taffeta gown and swept her into a waltz. There wasn't a woman in the place who wouldn't sell her soul to have Louis as her protector. I watched him move gracefully across the crowded dance floor. He was the epitome of elegance, the essence of the Victorian age, even in this, it's infancy. His manners were impeccable, his charm, boundless.

Above all this was his air of romantic melancholy. This was perpetually with him and, as I have said before, it adorned him as flowers adorn a bride. He mourned every life he took, he mourned his lost mortality. He mourned his long lost sister. He mourned his mother, his father, if he had a dog in his childhood I am certain he mourned that. My Louis. You and your great sad green eyes.

I was so enchanted with observing Louis, that I failed to notice a woman sidle up to me. I smiled down at her as she slipped her hand through the crook of my arm.

"Monsieur?" She smiled to me. "You are not dancing?"

"No, I have only just arrived." I replied.

She was an attractive woman, charming, but well past the blush of youth. She wore a fine gown of pale blue watered silk. Her hair was piled in her head, as was the mode of the day, and she wore a white ostrich plume that arched over her forehead.

"Would Monsieur wish to meet a most enchanting young lady? She has been educated by the nuns at the Ursulines and is conversant in French as well as English and Spanish."

I leaned towards her and smiled. "Would this young lady happen to be your daughter?"

"Why, yes." The woman fanned herself, setting the plume a-flutter. "I do not believe we have been introduced. My name is Lucille Ducornet." She folded her fan and pointed across the room to a willowy girl dancing with a military sort. "That is my daughter, Mignon."

I bowed. "Lestat de Lioncourt at your service, Madame Ducornet. I would be more than honored to meet your daughter."

I escorted Madame Ducornet to one of the velvet chaises that ringed the ballroom. She gracefully lowered herself on to the chaise and patted the edge for me to sit next to her.

"I have seen you around the city, Monsieur de Lioncourt. Do you live in New Orleans?" She lazily fanned herself.

"Oui. My business partner and myself have a town house on the Rue Royale." I took her hand and kissed it. She certainly was looking to get her hooks in a wealthy man... for either Mignon or herself!

"Tell me, Monsieur, do you have a wife?"

"Alas, I am a widower." I placed my hand over my heart and lowered my head. " My dear wife departed and left a small daughter in my care."

"How terribly, terribly difficult for you!" She stroked my arm.

"Yes. The little one is the very image of my late wife."

Louis and the cloud of yellow taffeta swooshed by. I was certain that he overheard the conversation as he gave me a very dirty look. Louis wasn't given to tales and drama in the manner I was.

Madame Ducornet dipped into her ample bosom and drew out a lace-edged hankie. She dabbed at her eyes in a most affected manner.

"Oh the poor motherless little one," she daintily sniffed. "Have you sent her to the convent to be cared for by the nuns?"

I sadly shook my head. "I cannot bear to part with her. She is my companion, and travels with me where ever I go."

"Then..." Madame Ducornet abruptly stopped dabbing at her eyes and stuffed her hankie into her bodice once more, "then you are looking for an arrangement? A placage?"

I took her hand. "Oh, Madame... any affair of the heart would be more than a placage. I am looking for a union of souls!"

She smiled and fluttered, and all the while her mind raced on how to part me from my money. If her 'tender' daughter couldn't, then, by heavens, she would!

It was all I could do to keep my poker face. I would win at this game and she would lose far more than she bargained- but that would be for another night. I would enjoy my little drama. When the time came and they thought they had me where they wanted me, I would have them.

While I enjoyed my charade, I kept a watchful eye for Louis. He was the most graceful of creatures on the dance floor, and I took every opportunity to watch him. The waltz finished and the orchestra struck up a lively gallop. My eyes lingered on his fine, slender form. I could feel the heat rising within me. I lost interest in the game at hand.

"If you will excuse me, Madame," I bowed to the woman. "If you will give me your card, I would like to call some evening..."

She produced a small card and placed it in my hand. "I trust I have not bored you."

"No..." I watched as Louis and his partner danced by with a great flourish. "I am in need of a little air..."

I walked over to the doorway where I could observe Louis more easily. How beautifully he moved. How I wanted to drag him from this crowded place and ravage him!

When the gallop had finished, he bowed to the young lady and crossed the room. He nodded to the row of young ladies and their chaperones and walked directly over to me.

"I thought you were here to dance," he said, a lift to one brow. "You haven't decided to hunt in this room, have you? If you have, I am leaving..."

"Louis, Louis..." I laughed. "Always the one for propriety. I know it's not mannerly to drain someone in polite company. I know you are salivating as well with the great abundance of flesh so close at hand. Look at them, why you can see their very life pulsing in their veins. The scent of blood is thick in this room. I can nearly taste it."

"Don't say that. You know what a trial it can be for me to be around mortals." The corners of his mouth turned down.

"It is a trial, isn't it?" I snapped. "Don't you think that all this... this flesh..." I gestured, "is not a temptation for me? I could finish them off, one by one."

"I have no doubt of that, Lestat." He stepped back, an expression of distaste crossed his face.

I touched his cheek. "Smile. You're so much more beautiful when you smile. I won't disgrace you. You need not worry." I straightened my back and turned away from him. "I thirst. I shall see you later back at the flat." I began to walk away. I glanced back at him. "There is no need for you to leave. You continue your evening of dance and polite conversation."

There was no doubt in my mind that he was seething. How dare I leave him? How dare I abandon him in this sea of mortals? It was easy. I knew he would not be happy if tomorrow's papers were filled with news of a lurid murder at the Quadroon Ball. Besides, with all the hot blooded Cavaliers and honey-colored bare shoulders, he was as hungry as I was.

I strode through the hotel, out the main door and into the teeming rain. My hunger was rising, and I would feed come hell or high water. The beggar children scattered from their shelters beneath balconies as I walked by. A flash of fang sent them the message. Out of the way or you'll end up my dinner. The older ones called me 'The Wolf'. How appropriate.

Finding my meal wasn't all that difficult. He was easy enough to sniff out; a drunk that found refuge in an alleyway. I walked up to him where he leaned against a brick wall.

He glanced at me through glassy, bloodshot eyes. Before he could utter a word, I was on him. I took hold of him, pulling him close, scenting the salt, sweat and blood before I sank my fangs into this thick neck.

I was surprised with the amount of strength he showed. He fought back, his muscles like bands of iron, powerful, as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream.

I loved him for it.

"Fight me for your life, damn you!" I swore aloud as we fell to the ground, locked in each other's grip.

The battle was a mighty one. Of course, I let him think he was winning, but in the end, it was I who was the victor. My prize was his life.

I staggered to my feet, the swoon holding me fast in it's satisfying daze. My opera cape lay in the sodden ground, half under the body of my feast. I picked up the corner and tossed it over him. At least give him some small dignity in defeat.

My clothes were soaked and covered with the muck and mire of the streets. I leaned against the wall, gathering my wits.

My respite didn't last very long. Whilst still in that blurred condition, a shadow appeared at the end of the alleyway. Before I could identify it, the shadow had thrown me to the opposite wall and pinned me securely against the peeling plaster.
When a pair of deliciously sharp fangs pierced my throat, I uttered a garbled oath.

Louis! It was Louis! He had mistaken me for an intoxicated derelict. It was all I could do to hold back my laughter.

The amusement faded as he fastened his mouth firmly to my neck and began to pull at the blood. I could feel the rapture building, as I clawed at his back, trying to grasp him. The sensuality and pleasure was overwhelming. My head lolled back.

"Ah... oui! Mon Louis... Mon beau un..."

His head snapped back and he shoved me to the ground.

"Lestat!" He snarled, as he wiped my blood from his lips. "You deceived me! How dare you entrap me!"

I had to laugh. He was so infuriated.

"Me entrap you? Oh, no, my love - it is you who attacked me!"

He wiped his face on the sleeve of his coat as he glared at me. "Never! I would never behave in such a manner!"

I lay back in the mud laughing. "But you did! You did! You attacked me! And by GOD, I loved it! If you had just hung on a little longer, I would have..."

"Damn you to hell Lestat!" He snarled. Louis stared at me, nostrils flaring, eyes like green flames. "You... you are the LIMIT, Lestat! The limit!" He turned on the heel of his elegant boot and stomped off into the rainy night.

It wasn't until much later that I staggered up the steps to our flat.

"You're a sorry sight." A small, shrill voice greeted me as I turned at the top of the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder, down the hall. A vision of frothy lace and golden curls was glaring at me from the doorway of her room.

"Don't bother me." I stalked down the hall towards the bathroom. "I want to take a bath... a long hot bath. I will light the boiler before I peel off these clothes.."

"You can't," she snapped.

"Why not, Claudia?" I was in no mood to put up with her venom. "Are you bathing your dollies?"

"Hardly," came the clipped reply. "Louis has been in there for hours washing away the guilt of the evening."

"Mon Dieu..." I muttered. "There isn't enough water in the Mississippi for that."

I gave up on the idea for a bath. I certainly didn't want to haul Louis away from his penance of the evening. I went into my room and took the pitcher from the washstand, headed down the back stairs to the butler's pantry where a pump was located. A cold water cat-wash would have to do. I was not pleased, but it was better than fighting another Battle of New Orleans.

I carried the pitched back to my room, stripped off my coat and shirt, and poured water in the basin.

Just as I started to scrub my face, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

"Come!" I growled. Now, not only was my face and neck covered with soap, but I had managed to get the later into my eyes. "Dammit..." I bellowed.

"I am terribly sorry to bother you, only I feel that I should apologize..."

I spun around and squinted at Louis.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." I began groping about the washstand. "Where's my damned towel!"

"Here."

I felt the linen as Louis placed a towel in my hands.

"Are you all right?"

"Just soap in my eyes. I wanted a bath, but I didn't wish to disturb you."

"I can heat the boiler if you want a bath. I was just sitting in there to escape the inquisition." He said softly.

"Good word for her," I finished wiping my face and I smiled at him.

"I should not have attacked you. When the hunger is rising, I tend to lose my wits."

"The press of flesh will do that," I nodded.

"A vampire my age should be well used to that by now," he said, lowering his eyes.

I took his hand. "Louis..."

He pulled away. "No... she's in the hall. A scene would not be good."

"No," I kissed the palm of his hand and slowly released it. "When?"

Louis shook his head. His hair cascaded forward and covered his eyes. "I do not know. Perhaps when she goes afield exploring the cemeteries." He turned to leave.

"Louis?"

He looked back at me over his shoulder, green eyes luminous in the candlelit room.

"You were the beauty at the ball tonight. There is none to surpass you."

He dipped his head a little and I knew he was smiling.

"Mon bel ami, là n'en est aucun comme tu." He said quietly, as he walked out the door.

"There is none as beautiful as you, either, Mon Amour." I answered.

The rain beat on the windows as he left me alone in my room. There never was another like him. No one could ever replace him in my heart.


Fin