Darkside - Part 4, 1993
© Gairid
stat1791@myway.com

Spoilers: Up to Memnoch the Devil
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Characters: Lestat, Louis, David, Marius, Gabrielle, Daniel
Other Characters:Mojo, OC (Brian Callahan)
Summary: A look into the lives of Louis and Lestat told by a third-party observer. Brian Callahan is my window into their world.

Early February, 1993

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lestat said.

"I just can't believe you did something so hare-brai--" I stopped myself. "Something like that."

"I'm trying to tell you; I wanted to know what it was to be mortal again." He said with some asperity.

"Okay, fine. I get that, I guess. But geez, Lestat, a little kid could figure out that this James guy had no intention of keeping up his end of the bargain."

Lestat was home again and things were a little more normal, although sometimes there was a certain brittleness between him and Louis that I couldn't help but notice. When Lestat decided he was going to tell me about his latest escapade, I was a little apprehensive, thinking that it might upset Louis. I was wrong this time; Louis sat serenely in one of the wing chairs by the fireplace with Lestat on the floor before him, seated between his legs. Mojo, the newest member of the household, lay with his large head on Lestat's thigh. Lestat ruffled his fur absently.

"With that kind of money at stake? He was so greedy, I never thought he'd be able to pass it up."

"In your body with all your power?" I said incredulously. "He could have taken what he wanted. What made you think otherwise? He cleaned out a few of your stashes anyway." I said, remembering the horrified panic I'd felt when I'd seen the paperwork from Rothschilds. The money doesn't really mean much to them, but I was supposed to be looking after it and, having no idea what had been going on with Lestat at that point, I was understandably bewildered and upset as to how such a large amount could have been removed.

"Yes, he did, the beast." Lestat said testily. "Alright, yes. It was incredibly naïve of me to have trusted him and a baby would have known the difference. Believe me, I had plenty of time to obsess over my arrogance and stupidity when I was trapped in that clumsy mass of flesh."

"I think now that I should have sent you to Brian when you came and told me of your mad scheme. Perhaps the simplest argument would have worked." Louis said. There was no rancor in his tone, just a bemused resignation. He ran his hand through Lestat's hair and Lestat leaned back to his touch, eyes closed in pleasure.

"So, how was it after all this time? You know, aside from the fiasco with James?"

Lestat opened his eyes and shrugged minutely.

"It wasn't what I imagined it would be like. I failed to take quite a few things into account, I'm afraid. Really, Brian, I have to tell you, my admiration for you has gone up immeasurably; I can't imagine how you manage to get anything done in such a frail body. I managed to injure myself and become deathly ill in short order."

"You got sick?"

"He had a cold." Louis murmured.

"It was more than a cold, you know." Lestat said, still slightly defensive. "Pneumonia at the very least. Horrible. If it wasn't for Mojo, I would very likely have died." At the sound of his name, Mojo thumped his tail twice.

"Well, it couldn't have been all bad." I said, sidestepping the thought that he had tried pretty hard to kill himself only a short time before he did this body-switch thing. "Did you eat anything?"

Lestat nodded. "Spaghetti. I have seen you eat that. How can you stand it? A sticky congealed mess with no flavor at all. In fact, very little of the food I ate had much taste."

"Probably because you had a cold." I pointed out.

"I had chocolate." He said, ignoring my remark. "I liked that very much. Louis, my love, had you ever tasted chocolate?" He leaned his head back to look up at Louis.

"I drank chocolate on occasion." Louis said, smiling at him. "I remember it tasting very
pleasant."

"I imagine that the hotel staff though I was insane. There was chocolate in the mini-bar and after I tasted it, I ordered every chocolate dessert on the menu. Of course I was unable to eat all of it. I tried Scotch whisky, too. Dreadful. I did manage to enjoy some wine once I had something with some bottom to it, unlike the vin ordinare I had along with the spaghetti. I quite liked wine when I was mortal. But the best thing was walking in the sun, feeling the sun and my face. It was then that I was able to see a little more clearly with mortal eyes. Everything seemed so dim and muddy up until I went out into the sun."

Above and behind him, I caught an expression on Louis' face, visible for the barest moment; immeasurable sorrow. For what, I wondered? That he would have liked to see Lestat so? Or was he thinking of Lestat's other encounter with the sun? I couldn't tell because the expression vanished almost immediately and then Lestat was looking sharply at me as though he'd caught some of my thought.

"I've written most of it down." He said at length. "You can read it if you like. There were a few moments out of the whole debacle that were worth it, I suppose, but I'm afraid I didn't do very well as a mortal man. I found so much of it to be unbearably grotesque--Mon Dieu, how can you even manage to keep clean?"

I blinked at his last statement and was about to make some answer when he gently moved Mojo's head from his leg and stood. In an instant he vanished from my sight and I saw him a moment later standing on the balcony, staring fixedly down the street.

I glanced at Louis; he leaned to give Mojo a reassuring pat. "What is it, Lestat?" He asked curiously. When Lestat made no answer, Louis rose to join him on the balcony. "What's got your attention, ‘Stat?" he asked again.

"I heard something." Lestat said, as I stepped out behind them, also curious. I didn't say anything, assuming that whatever he was talking about was likely something I would not have noticed. "Someone." He amended. "You didn't hear, Louis?"

"Non." Louis said. "Something out of the ordinary?"

"Yes. Like a whisper, really. My name."

"A vampire?" I queried. When I spoke he turned and the look of puzzled concentration fled.

"Maybe." He said, thoughtfully. "Though no one I am familiar with. Are you sure you didn't hear it, Louis?"

"I heard nothing out of the ordinary." Louis said patiently. "Perhaps one of the others is trying to gain your attention?"

"Peut-être." Lestat said, scanning the rainy street once again. Just as he was turning to go back inside, a gust of wind rattled the plants around us and he snapped around. "There. There! Who the hell is that?"

Then he was gone and Louis after him, both having leapt to the ground; at least that was what I assumed. I had seen nothing, of course; their movements had been too fast for me to track. They were nowhere in sight.

Leaning over the rail in the spot where Lestat had been standing only moments before, I peered in the direction I'd seen him look. I could see precious little outside the wet pools of light cast by street lamps and the glow from windows. Shadows and rain, and a couple coming round the corner at Ursulines, hidden beneath an umbrella. After a few minutes, I retreated indoors, closing out the wind and rain.

Late February, 1993

Had the incident when Lestat had thought he heard someone... not mortal--calling him been an isolated one, I would have thought nothing more of it, but in the nights that followed he grew more and more convinced that someone was stalking him, a thing that both infuriated and intrigued him.

Lestat left for several days, taking to the air and going back to Rio de Janeiro; he had become convinced that his stalker had picked up on his presence when he'd been there with Louis and David. When he returned, he was twitchy and restless and somehow more feral than I'd known him to be, at least toward me. He took me unawares several times and I have to say that when he'd come upon me like that it scared the holy old hell out of me, mostly because, although he laughed to see my sudden fright, the smile did not dissipate a certain flat chilliness in his eyes.

As a result, I'd taken to treading more carefully when I was near them. Louis had lapsed into cool watchfulness, understanding that something was, indeed, happening but unable to ascertain what it was. He paid very little attention to my comings and goings, speaking to me only occasionally.

In spite of a certain tentative discomfort on my part, which I know went largely unnoticed by either of them, I was unwilling to keep away from them altogether. I was under no illusion that I could be of much use to Lestat in dealing with whatever was going on, but the need to hover would not leave me and so I followed my instincts the way I had done since I'd first come into contact with them.

There was thick tension between them once again, but it was different this time, due more to Lestat's impatience with the circumstances and Louis' attempts to get to the root of the thing with penetrating questions to which Lestat had no answers. There were no arguments, not like there had been in earlier years, but things were definitely not harmonious. The Carnival season was building to the Mardi Gras crescendo when Lestat announced that they were leaving on Ash Wednesday for New York and would I please call and see to it that the Central Park South apartment was ready for their arrival.

"I'm staying here." Louis told him, even as I was speaking to Sal, the agent in New York who handled these things.

"Certainly not." Lestat said, briskly. "Why would you stay here? I want you to come with me."
"I think this is something you need to see to on your own." Louis said carefully. "You have stressed to me several times now that you were unsure of this--this creature yourself, that you cannot tell what it might be. If I thought it would do any good, I would ask you to drop it for good and all and stay here as well."

As I hung up from speaking to Sal, I could see that Lestat was making a concerted effort to keep his temper.

"Louis, you know I have to find out what it is."

"I know you feel you have to, yes." Louis replied. "I will be here when you return." He moved to enclose Lestat in an embrace and the stiffness in Lestat's shoulders eased considerably. They shared a deep kiss and when Louis released him it was clear that his annoyance had passed.

"You'll be here when I return?" Lestat said, brushing Louis' hair back from his face.

"Such a question." Louis chided. He caught Lestat's hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "I will return shortly, mon amour."

When the door closed downstairs, Lestat turned to me.,

"He wants to come with me." He stated flatly.

"Of course he does."

"Yet he insists on staying here."

I looked at him for a moment, thinking.

"Come now, Brian, I know you have something to say."

"Could be he's worried about you."

"All the more reason he should come with me, then." Lestat said irritably.

"He never does anything without a reason." I pointed out. "Look--there's a difference in your strength and his, right? You said yourself you aren't really sure what is going on, if this stalker presence is another vampire. What if Louis feels you will be safer if you don't have to think about protecting him if things get ugly."

"That sounds like Louis, to be sure." Lestat said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't have to worry about such things if he would just share my blood." He looked pointedly at me as though I might have some answer to that remark.

"When has he ever done anything, or decided not to do something without a reason?"

"You think he does not trust me." Lestat stated heatedly. He had obviously caught my uppermost thought.

I shrugged. "Do you mean before or after you made David a vampire?" I muttered before I had a chance to think about what I was saying. I stepped back a pace from the flash of anger I saw in his eyes.

"You overstep." He said icily.

"Okay, yeah. None of my business, except you asked me what I thought. Do I know? I don't. I'm just guessing, but I think I might be right this time. Why are you pursuing this anyway? You went to Rio and learned nothing. Now New York? Why not just let it go?"

"You are a relatively sound human, all things considered, yes?"

I frowned, but I knew better than to question the sudden shift in topics. "I suppose."

"You don't hear voices in your head. If you did, you would see some sort of doctor, yes? Receive treatment? Medicines?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Yeah." He said, mimicking my voice with eerie accuracy. "But you know now that there are things outside the ken of most mortals. Creatures like Louis and myself. There are other things as well, and you would be much less surprised to see or hear any of them at this point, yes?"

I nodded in the affirmative as I began to follow his line of reasoning.

"Well, then. Do you think I can just go on with my life with such an intrusion? I need to find out what it is. What it wants with me." He laughed suddenly. "I should not have to explain myself to you Brian, but there you have it."

Mid March, 1993

Lestat went to New York and Louis stayed behind and for two weeks or so things had been pretty quiet. Mojo hung out with me most days, coming along whenever I went out and lying on the cool stone floor in my small front entryway when I was home. Louis came by to take him for walks in the early evenings and though he was polite, his mood was reserved and tense.

He had not been by for several nights but I hadn't thought much about it since it was not his habit to announce his plans as Lestat so often did. I had just stepped out of the shower when he phoned and in his usual manner he spoke as though I had been fully apprised about his whereabouts.

"I would appreciate it, Brian, if you would come and pick me up."

"Of course. Where are you?"

"I am in Florida." He said firmly.

"Florida." I repeated. "Where in Florida?"

"Destin. I am in a hotel on the beach."

"Okay. Which hotel?"

He made an impatient sound. "Comfort Inn Suites. Room 1012."

I already had the maps out and had located Destin, a tiny speck north of Panama City.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. It'll take a few hours, though." Do you need anything?"

"Nothing you can bring." He said distantly. The next thing I heard was the bland drone of the dial tone.

~~~~~

I found him sitting outside the door to his room, looking past the lights on the boardwalk to the dark sea. The long building had a wide sort of verandah that was several steps above the boardwalk. "There is another chair just inside the door." He said by way of greeting. I brought it outside and sat down beside him. The surf was up and the wind was laced with rain that had yet to reach the shore. Ragged white lines of sea foam were barely visible from where we sat and I smelled the ineffable scent of salty water. I wondered how it looked and smelled and sounded to Louis with his enhanced senses

"I brought the limo, but if we leave right away, we'd be back in New Orleans before sun-up." I told him.

"I should have told you there was no rush." He said. "I would prefer to return tomorrow evening. You are tired from the drive?"

I caught myself in mid-yawn, frankly astonished by the remark. "Not too tired." I looked at him curiously and when he made no immediate answer I allowed myself a little time to take in his fine profile and the way the cool, fitful wind from the Gulf lifted his dark hair back from his face. Such scrutiny did not affect him in the slightest. After a while he spoke.

"You were worried when you arrived. Are you less so now?"

I smiled a little at the way he expressed it. "Yeah. I'm curious as to why you wanted me to come and get you, though."

"Seeing as I was able to make my way here on my own?" Though his face betrayed nothing, I could have sworn there was a teasing note in his voice.

"Well, yeah."

"Perhaps I wanted the chance to observe you away from the familiar. Where is Mojo?"

"Miss Claire has him. You know, from across the street."

Louis nodded absently and turned his head. That was when I felt the urge to look away, to lower my gaze from the brilliant green of his eyes. I didn't do it, though; I held his gaze.

"Before he left, I believe you offered Lestat an opinion as to why I did not wish to accompany him."

"He asked me what I thought." I said a little nervously.

"Is that what you honestly thought?"

I nodded. "It was only an opinion, of course."

"Of course. It was not too far off the mark however; you were correct in your assessment of my reason for staying behind. Rather astute of you, all things considered, but then, you seem to have centered your life around the study of Lestat and myself."

I nodded again, acutely uncomfortable and utterly at a loss for words

"There is more to my reticence and the issue is not one of trust. The issue is Lestat himself, though I am quite sure he would disagree most vehemently. He is an impatient creature." He smiled fleetingly. "He thinks I refuse the offer of his blood, his power and strength because of our recent storms. He prefers to forget, especially in such times as these when his mind is bent toward some new pursuit, that my thought is bent on knowing him in all ways."

A gust of wind swept the beach and far out over the dark water lightening flickered.

"Why would he prefer to forget?" I asked, caught by his words.

"You would have to ask him that question." He said in his perplexing way. "Ask another."

"Why would taking his blood interfere with knowing him? I mean just the fact that he wants to share himself with you, you know--"

"Because this is the only time I have where our strength is not matched, when I am not more like he is now. I want to know him as he is now, so powerful and so strong. I did not know him when he was a mortal man and though he was much more powerful than I when he made me, there were other matters between us."

"Like there are now?"

"I suspect that Lestat will always have it in him to wander now and again. I am reconciled with it; I have no wish to change his nature for that is but a part of him that I cherish. His impulsiveness has a dark side--he acts precipitously and there have been times, some long past, and others, known to you, that have caused any amount of pain or grief to me, but also to himself." Louis said, gazing steadily at me.

I could barely keep still, held in his stare; he'd rarely spoke so much to me at one time, much less shared thoughts of this personal nature.

"Lestat claims any given moment, grasping it whole and beating and making it a part of him. That time is laid out for him like a banquet in which he oftentimes takes great delight is no surprise to me. It is perhaps why his own Maker chose him for he is suited for such a challenge." He bit at his lip thoughtfully. "Although--even Lestat has shown himself prone to despair from time to time."

From the far end of the long building, a couple turned the corner and walked along the wide verandah, presumably searching for their room. Their approach was obnoxiously loud and it set my teeth on edge. For his part, Louis seemed not to notice until they were passing in front of us and the man stopped and looked directly at him.

"This is the guy?" He said in sneering tones to the woman he was with. He looks like one-a them fairies," He said belligerently. He swept me with a contemptuous glance.

"Does your wife know you are with this deluded woman?" Louis asked. He gave the woman a sympathetic glance. "Whatever he has told you, he lies." He turned to face the man again, and whatever the brute had been about to say died on his lips when he caught Louis' gaze. The woman looked from Louis to her companion with wary suspicion, but when he grabbed her hand, she followed him willingly enough.

When their door slammed shut, I turned to Louis.

"You saw her earlier?

"On the beach. Just after sunset." He replied. "We passed some words. Where was I?"

"You said that Lestat has shown himself to feel despair from time to time."

"You have read his books."

I nodded.

"You know, then, that such despair possessed him even when he was mortal. He becomes overwhelmed, so much so that he is nearly incapacitated. As much as it hurt me to think he would try to take his life and leave me behind, I knew this about him; I have always known it."

"So, what about now?" I asked, giddy with the freedom of asking questions that I had held inside for such a long time. "What about David?"

"David?" He asked, his face animated with honest puzzlement.

"Doesn't it bother you that Lestat made him a vampire? And don't just say that Lestat always does whatever he wants. That's not what I'm asking you. How does David fit in?"

"He doesn't, as far as I am concerned." Louis said. "Of course I will say that Lestat does what he will. Why else David? Certainly it was not my idea."

I abandoned that line of questioning. He would not or did not want to speak of it, that was clear.

"Okay, so what about New York? What's going on?"

"I can't tell you that, either, since whatever or whoever is communicating with Lestat is in no way making itself known to me. I would have preferred that Lestat let it go, but I do understand his curiosity."

"Are you worried?"

"Worried?"

"Something bothers you about the whole thing." I ventured.

He gazed levelly at me for a long moment. "Yes. Something does."

"What is it?"

He didn't answer immediately. The storm was moving in, with lightening flickering at more frequent intervals and the thunderclaps becoming louder and more frequent. He picked up his narrative presently.

"When I was a mortal man, I traveled once through this very body of water, around the Straits of Florida and up along the seaboard to Savannah and Charleston. It was the farthest I'd ever gone from my home. There was such a storm in the Gulf, coming upon us suddenly when we'd gotten underway. The glass fell sharply and the storm was wild, the wind a harridan, shrieking through the masts and tearing at the sails, even though they were tightly furled. Through it all, I was singularly unafraid, though seamen who had spent their lives on the water muttered prayers and made the Sign of the Cross. To this day I love a storm, but I learned that you cannot be complacent about such things. There is something about Lestat's experience that plucks at my senses, warning me in the same way a gathering storm will cause most living creatures to seek shelter. If I had told him, he would have laughed me off and as you guessed, I felt that my presence might be distracting when he might well need to call upon all his senses."

The rain came in all at once, a sweeping sheet that ran up the beach like a living thing. The balcony above us provided little cover and Louis allowed that we should perhaps go inside and I followed him in, carrying my chair. He placed his chair before the window and opened the drapes, making no move to turn the lights on, so I put my chair on the other side of the cheap laminate table and sat down again. The rain painted shadows on Louis' pale face. The shadows looked like dark tears.

Early May, 1993

I won't say I don't know why I went there in the first place; I do know, but I might have tried it during the day if I'd thought it through a little better, because, fascination with Lestat and Louis aside, I was damned lucky I wasn't someone's pre-show snack that night. I think it was Marius that saved my hide because even as I walked up Napoleon Street, he was suddenly just there beside me, his pale hand gripping my biceps firmly.

"This visit is ill-advised." He informed me as we passed through the iron gate. There was a trio of people standing at the bottom of the steps--no, not people, I realized as Marius pulled me along. Vampires. One of them hissed at me as we passed, curling her tongue over her fangs. They all laughed.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Marius asked.

"I came to see him." I said. "I didn't think there would be--"

"You didn't think there would be others here? Come now. Do you expect me to believe that?"

We passed through a foyer and into a long room. A chapel, I realized. There were statues in niches and flickering candles. I saw him, then, sprawled on the floor, eyes sightless and staring, one arm stretched out before him as though he were reaching for something. Louis was beside him, cross-legged. I fell back a step, appalled. I hadn't known what to expect, gleaning from Louis only that Lestat had come back to New Orleans, but that something was wrong, something had happened. It had taken me weeks to even find out where Lestat was.

Louis turned caught me in his gaze. After a moment, he gestured for me to approach and I moved toward him on rubbery legs.

"Why have you come here?" he muttered. I made no answer, but dropped to one knee, fighting back an emotion that I could not name. I heard murmuring when I reached to touch Lestat's wrist, but no one stopped me.

"What's wrong with him? What happened?" My voice was a dusty croak, forced out through my dry, closed throat. My eyes burned.

"You will stay here until dawn and then go home. Do not return to this place--there are those here who would kill you. Do you understand? Brian?" I nodded and Louis placed his hand over mine, removing it from Lestat's wrist with a gentleness that surprised me.

I retired to one side where I could see them both and sat with my back against the wall. What had happened? Apparently no one was going to tell me and it occurred to me that perhaps none of them actually knew. I was the object of some curiosity, I found, once I'd gathered some of my wits about me again and began to look about and try to notice what was going on around me.

Except for me, everyone that was in my sight was a vampire. Ill-advised, Marius had said. Yeah. At any other time, I would probably have been much more curious, and probably more frightened, but under the circumstances I found myself watching them with a sort of detached interest. I remained unmolested, though I was aware that I was an object of some attention.

It was easy enough to tell who was who with some of them. David I'd seen before and Marius on an occasion when he'd come to speak with Lestat one evening. I knew Armand from the descriptions I'd read and I surmised the pale haired vampire that stood near him was probably Daniel, the same Daniel who, when he was mortal, had spoken with Louis years ago. Gabrielle had passed on her specific, almost alarming beauty to her son, but he had not inherited her innate coldness. She stood alone, her eyes nearly as expressionless as her prone sons'. When her gaze found me, I wished myself to be small and unnoticeable, for she stared at me in a penetrating manner.

The hours passed and whatever fear I felt seeped away, replaced with the pervasive anxiety I'd felt since Louis had informed me that Lestat was not himself. Seeing what he meant only increased the feeling, overlaid with a sort of helpless pain at seeing him so still and unresponsive--so unlike the Lestat I had come to know.

David approached them, laying a hand on Louis' shoulder. Louis stiffened and David removed his hand, leaning to say something to him. Louis kept his eyes on Lestat, but he appeared to be listening to whatever David had to say, nodding imperceptibly after a moment. David left him alone and he stayed where he was for a while longer, leaning to speak into Lestat's ear, his hand smoothing Lestat's pale hair as he did so.

When he was finished, he walked past me, gesturing for me to follow him. Louis matched his pace to mine and we went up the street toward Prytania. The air was sodden, a heavy mist curling around our legs. Foliage dripped with moisture and the scrolled iron fences gleamed beneath the haloed streetlamps and it seemed very quiet, very still. After a while, Louis spoke.

"You asked me what happened to him. I have no answer for you and neither do any of the others. I know you came here out of concern but you cannot help him and there is a better than average chance now that one of these others will come looking for you. Lestat cannot help you and the old ones may have some influence over these younger ones, but their minds are not focused solely upon you. You were fortunate that Marius realized you were outside. For Lestat's sake I would not see you hurt or killed. He has a fondness for you."

I hardly knew what to say. His voice was not cold but neither was it warm; he was simply telling me the truth of things as they stood.

"How did you get here?" He asked me suddenly.

"I drove. The car is parked on Prytania."

He nodded. "I will drive back with you."

"I could have waited until sunrise. If you wanted to stay, I mean." I said, arming the sweat from my forehead. It was breathlessly hot.

"Of course." He said distantly. We turned the corner onto Prytania. When we reached the car he waited behind me while I unlocked the passenger's side. As I straightened up he leaned in and spoke into my ear, his hands clutching my shoulders with bruising force. "This much I know. He is lost, looking for the way back and I do not know how to help him." He rested his forehead against the back of my neck for a moment before letting go and slipping into the passenger seat.

August, 1993

The summer passed, a progression of savagely hot days that sapped whatever store of energy I had the minute I stepped out the door. Not that I had much in the way of energy, really. The days blurred into one another and though I tried to use my time constructively, I'd fallen into a bleak despondency.

I had done as Louis asked and stayed away from St. Elizabeth's at night. I was left unmolested by any of the other vampires, known or unknown. The days felt safe enough to me and I got into the habit of taking the streetcar out to Napoleon Avenue every so often to look in on Lestat. I'd found a way to get in through a door around the back of the long brick building. No one ever questioned me or even appeared to notice. I never went anywhere else in that building except to the chapel where he lay--if the others were sleeping there, I had no wish to come upon them.

I didn't like going there; seeing him so still, lying on the floor of that dim place with only flickering candles for light put me in mind of a wake. I went anyway, driven to it by a tenebrous whisper that speculated upon--what? Intruders? Laughable. Louis had told me that there had been a general surprise among the others that Lestat had not flung me back when I'd touched him. That self-preservation instinct was still intact and had been the only movement that he had made since
he'd fallen into the state. Others had approached and been rebuffed, flung to the wall with immense force, Louis said. All except for himself and, when it came down to it, me.

I'd sit on the floor near his sprawled unmoving body. Once my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I would gaze at him, willing him to move a muscle, make a sound or just blink. Anything at all to end the unnerving stillness, so alien to the way I had known him to be. The stained glass windows were shrouded to keep out the sun and I found myself wondering about that; Lestat had survived the sun with little else than tawny skin to show for it.

But stare as I might, hoping to see some sign of life, will it as I would, he never moved, not even when I reached and brush the knuckles of his hand.

Unlike Louis. Louis struggled daily against the deathsleep, much as he had when Lestat had gone away from him before. His eyes would snap open and he would move with sluggish, bleary awareness, muttering in French. These episodes never lasted long, but they took their toll on him, especially since I was reasonably certain he was not feeding much. He was gaunt and his skin seemed almost translucent.

Going to St. E's had become my religion. It was like visiting a saint's reliquary and just thinking that made me feel slightly sick, because it meant that I didn't believe Lestat would come out of the state he was in. These thoughts chased themselves around and around in my head, circular and maddening, making me feel disloyal and traitorous.

I spoke to him when I was there, keeping my voice low and quiet. I told him about Mojo and our walks and about the progress being made at one of the old houses he had wanted restored several blocks from where we were. Sometimes I confessed my fear that he would not come around while I was still alive to see it. I begged him to move, just a little; I told him he had to do it because Louis was waiting for him and to see Louis so splintered was almost as bad as seeing Lestat insensible and unaware.

Nothing ever happened but I went back once a week or so anyway, to say my prayers into his unhearing ear.

I was always very careful to leave well before dusk, in line with Louis' warning. One of those times I'd ridden the streetcar back to Canal St., stopping on my walk home for an oyster po'boy. I staked a place out on a bench on St. Peter's facing the Pontalba Apartments and I watched the shadows pool beneath the long gallery as I ate.

A stiff breeze rattled the ragged leaves of the banana trees and the way it dried the sweat from my face was a welcome thing even though I knew it heralded rain. I remember thinking that I was hungrier than I thought; I'd been counting back to see just how many meals I'd skipped, wadding the deli paper and stuffing it back into the greasy brown bag. When I reached for my drink, I felt the hairs on my neck rise. I looked around and after a moment I focused on a figure standing in front of one of the store fronts. It was David.

He walked toward me and I stood up. "Hello, Brian." He said, seating himself on my vacated bench. "I thought that was you coming out of the restaurant. Do you have a moment?" My heart skipped a beat.

"Did something happen with Lestat?" I asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. Everything is the same." He said in tones of sincerest apology. "I wondered how Louis is faring."

I sat down, somewhat baffled by the question.

"Louis? What do you mean? He is there with Lestat every night, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. I was referring to his sleep pattern." He said delicately. "Has he been awakening?"

It startled me a little. It had not occurred to me that perhaps such a thing had happened to others. I felt reticent about answering, however. It had become habit to keep things to myself and I didn't think Louis would care to be the subject of a discussion between David and myself.

"I wouldn't know." I told him, watching him warily.

He smiled benevolently. "It was only a question. I recall that you spent time in the main house in order to keep the books and such things. Perhaps you have heard something?"

"Only the clocks." I told him, wearing a large, false smile. Lightening flicker above us followed by a long rumble of thunder. "I should go. I need to let Mojo out."

"Of course." He said, standing even as I did. "He has been inside all day, hasn't he?"

"Most of the afternoon." I said carefully.

"Ah. Well, best get on, then. It was good to see you, Brian. Please keep yourself safe. Good night."

Late October, 1993

I was in the kitchen, working on plastering the ceiling. This was one project in a stream of many that I had been working on rather feverishly in order to keep myself from thinking too much. I was surprised when I heard the front door open because Louis had not been to the townhouse in quite a while which meant nothing much had changed. I got down from the step ladder and went out to the foyer, rubbing my plaster-whitened hands on my jeans.

"Louis?" I came out from around the stairs and stopped, certain for a moment that I was hallucinating. I was not.

"Oh, my God. Lestat. Oh..."

It was Lestat, looking as though nothing had happened, looking as he had the last time I'd seen him awake and aware.

"Brian." He acknowledged. That was when I could see that he really didn't look the same, not when I saw his eyes, troubled and wary and disconcertingly vague. Louis had a protective arm about Lestat's shoulders.

"I'm so glad to see you." I said simply. I held a hand out and he took it briefly.

"Merci" He said with a wan smile.

"Brian, I know you have been most anxious and I have no wish to appear rude, but you will understand if you do not hear anything from us for a while, yes?" Louis said briskly.

I nodded. "Of course."

"There will no doubt be calls and perhaps visitors. I want it made clear that Lestat will not be disturbed. You will call upon me only if conditions become unmanageable. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Bien." And with that, I was dismissed from his mind as he looked to Lestat. "Venez Lestat, nous se retirera à notre chambre à coucher maintenant." He said softly.

Lestat had been quiet throughout this exchange, head slightly cocked as though listening, eyes still far away, but when Louis said his name he turned his head and the vagueness left his expression. I was enormously relieved to see it because Lestat vague? Lestat tentative? It had been distressing to see him in his coma-like state; seeing what looked like lingering after-effects brought with it another layer of worry over what had been an untenable situation.

They went upstairs and I heard nothing more for several day.

Nothing from them, at least. The phone rang frequently and I answered the questions put to me politely but with little substance--I told those interested parties that as far as I knew, Lestat was fine and so was Louis and no, nothing untoward had happened. Yes they were still here, yes I was sure. No, Lestat did not want to speak to anyone. No, visitors were not a good idea. No, I could not ask, pressure or demand that Louis to bring Lestat back to St. E's. That last one struck me funny and I laughed after I hung up, picturing myself demanding that Louis deliver Lestat back to that place.

Pressure Louis. Demand! Yeah, right.

The calls tapered off, I suppose because I had nothing different to say to any of them. During the day I looked in on them, vague shapes under the blankets, only the tops of their heads visible, dark and light. The room was intact and so was the bed; I did not dare to approach too closely, did not think to remove the protective cocoon. Something in me warned me to keep my distance.

The doorbell summoned me the sixth night after Lestat's return. It was David, insisting that I let him in, demanding that I answer some questions and that he would no longer put up with any vagaries. I let him in, of course- for what else could I do?

He followed me into the small sitting room off the foyer and by the time he sat down, he'd regained his courteous demeanor, going so far as to apologize for his sharpness.

"I have been worried, you see. None of us has heard anything from either of them and considering the fact that no one is really sure what happened to Lestat, there is some concern that he might harm Louis."

I bit back an impatient answer. "Louis was the only one that could get near him when he was in that state." I pointed out. "When they came home, he didn't seem inclined to any violence toward Louis--quite the opposite, in fact."

He digested that for a moment and then looked earnestly at me.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to go and ask Lestat to come downstairs for a moment? I should like to speak with him."

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible." I said in as polite a voice as I could muster. "Louis expressed to me in no uncertain terms that Lestat was not to be disturbed."

"I'm hardly here to disturb him, Brian. I would just like to speak to him for a few minutes."

"I understand your concern, but surely you can see what a position I am in. If you will remain insistent, I can ask Louis to come and give you the reassurances that you are looking for."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly and it was clear to me that he was angrier than he looked.

"You know he's all right." I said quietly. "He's getting what he needs right now. When he's ready to see you or any of the others, I'm sure you will know about it. It can't be so hard to understand that he might want to be left alone here in his home with Louis, can it?"

His stare was intimidating but not frightening. "I suppose you are correct." He said at length. "Please tell Lestat I was here, would you?"

"Of course."

*****

Louis emerged from the bedroom not long after David had gone away, looking as though he'd dressed hurriedly.

"I will be out for a time. Whatever you are doing to keep things under control, please continue. If Lestat calls you, you will of course go to him, but otherwise leave him undisturbed. I will be back soon."

He left without saying anything further. Almost immediately the phone rang again and this time it was Marius checking in. In the midst of one of the variations on the same speech I had been reciting for days I heard snarling followed by a crash from the bedroom. I made a hasty excuse and hung up the phone, hurrying down the hall.

After a moment of listening at the door, I opened it and put my head in.

"Are you all right?" I asked, flicking the lights on. A quick scan of the room revealed an overturned vase of flowers and the small table it had been on. The carpet was soaked and the scent of lilies was intense. Lestat stood to one side.

"A little clumsy, I'm afraid." He said apologetically.

"I'll take care of it." I assured him. I went into their bathroom and got a towel and a plastic bag from the closet. He stood in the same place, fists clenched and shoulders tense..

"Who was on the phone?" He asked as I laid the towel over the wet rug. I put the broken flowers into the bag and picked up the shards of the heavy vase.

"Marius." I said, finally looking into his eyes as I stood up. "Just calling to see how you were. Are you sure you're okay?"

He shrugged. "Yes."

I wanted to ask him so many things, but it was not the right time; it might never be the right time. I heard the front door opening. "Louis is back." I told him, as though he didn't know it for himself. He nodded and his shoulders sagged a little with relief.

I nearly ran into Louis when I left the room. He eyed the remains of the vase. "Just a little accident." I told him. He said nothing but hastened into the room.

"Lestat, what has happened?"

"Someone trying to get in. In my head." He mumbled, leaning against Louis. "I knocked the flowers over, that's all."

"Who tried to get in?"

"I don't know." Lestat said, frustration evident in his tone. "I couldn't tell, and it was difficult to keep resisting."

"Never mind, Angel." Louis said. He caressed Lestat's shoulder blades and Lestat laid his head on Louis' shoulder. I closed the door, then, giving them their privacy, and went downstairs to dispose of the small wreckage, mulling over what Lestat had said.

All Saints Day, 1993

The next time I saw them, I knew that any such notions that any of the other vampires might harbor regarding Louis being the weakest of their race would be blown completely out of the water. It was evident that he'd shared Lestat's immensely powerful blood at last and the effects were clear, even to my eyes. Louis was whiter than he'd been before and his skin had attained a porcelain smoothness that defies any adjective I know of, but that was the least of the changes. He crackled with a feverish energy. His movements were bizarre; so hectic and so fast that it was like watching someone moving before a strobe light.

Lestat, in great contrast, seemed almost drowsy, having seated himself in one of the wingchairs by the hearth. He watched Louis delightedly, eyes dancing as Louis moved about the room. I stayed out of the way by the open French doors. Louis' movements were disconcerting to say the least, but it wasn't as though he'd never made me feel like that before. Lestat looked at me for a penetrating moment and spoke as he flicked his gaze back to Louis.

"It might take a little while for him to get used to the feeling; I remember being quite beside myself at first." He said.

"Let's go, 'Stat." Louis said. He blurred past me and leapt lightly from the iron railing.

Lestat rose, smiling. "If anyone calls, Brian, tell them that everything is under control." He said as he stepped past me and jumped onto the narrow iron rail, balancing as easily as a bird on a wire. He winked and then he too, was gone.