Much Madness is Divinest Sense
By lillake, 1998

The following is a spec concerning a young girl who crossed the path of
Lestat. The story takes place in the seventeenth century.

_________________________________________

The doctor shook his head sadly. His looked down upon the young woman
tucked into the large canopied bed. Her long wild hair fell across the fine
white sheets as if it were a black flame. Her lips, slightly
parted, moved continuously as if she were chanting in a foreign tongue. Her
skin had taken on the color of
dull ivory because of the fever. He shook his head again and looked into
the eyes of the concerned mother sitting across from him.
"She's mad," he finally whispered as gently as he could.
The older woman pressed her lips together. "There must be something you can
do," she insisted.
The doctor shook his head and sighed."The only thing I can do is ask her to
re-count what happened that evening four nights ago. This is an illness
brought about by mental angst, there is no
medicine to cure it."
"Well have her tell you the story again!" the woman snapped sharply. "I
will not sit by and watch
my daughter die!"
"Madame, I know your family is one of the wealthiest in New Orleans, and I
know your
daughter is your pride and joy, and I can assure you I am doing everything
in my power to save her."
"Are you telling me all hope is lost?" she hissed. "This is the eighteenth
century... have we made no medical advancement that could help my child
live?! Is that what you're telling me, doctor?!"
All I could possibly do now is help the poor child die painlessly, he
thought bleakly to himself. "I
will have her tell me the story one last time," he acquiesced with a tired
sigh. "But I ask you to leave the room, half the time she mumbles nonsense
that would only pain you."
The woman nodded, stood, and swept out of the room in a quiet hiss of silk
skirts.
The doctor sat beside the bed and took the girl's hand, murmuring soft
encouragement. Her
eyelids fluttered open revealing light brown eyes flecked with green and
gold.
"Where am I?" she whispered, her voice frail and quiet, like bits of paper
being strewn to the
ground.
"In your home. Vivian... do you remember me?"
She paused, staring at him, her vacant eyes rendering recognition. Her pale
lips curved crookedly
into a fleeting smile. "You're the doctor."
"Yes, Vivian. That's good. Now I am sorry to do this to you, but I promised
your mother I would
ask you to. Will you tell me what happened that night?"
She sighed, staring out the large window of her room, her eyes darkening
slightly as her thoughts
arranged themselves. "Yes," her voice faltered.
"Tell me, tell me what happened," the urged.
"It was one of those nights doctor.... do you know? When the night calls to
you?" she turned to
him, eyes desperate for him to understand.
He nodded, gesturing for her to continue.
"I slipped out... I know Mama and Papa tell me never to go out at night..
oh.. but the night air...
full of the soft scent of jasmine and roses.... they're in bloom now,
doctor... have you seen my garden?"
"It is a lovely garden, Vivian. Is that where you were going that night?"
"Oh..." she gave a silent little laugh. "No... I don't know where I was
going... I just started to
walk, watching the moon... so full and beautiful.... it was like everything
was dripping with silver that
night.... everything..." she stated with a great deal of finality. She lost
herself in the memory for a time,
pushing her hair away from her face, eyes searching the window as if to see
the silver palace the world
had seemed that evening. When she saw nothing past the inky blackness of
the starless black sky she lifted
her eyes back to the doctor. "What was I saying?"
"Silver," he reminded her.
"Oh yes... I couldn't help but stay out... I walked around the garden
path... then went down to the lake... and then... I began to hear voices
from the wood... two men talking I believed it was.... oh...
doctor.. their voices were beautiful.. it was as if they sang every word
they spoke.... I didn't really notice I
had been walking to the wood until a tree branch snagged my hair...." She
paused.

""Why did you walk to the wood, Vivian? Did you not realize the danger you
could put yourself in?"
"Doctor, if you had heard their voices, you would have known... you would
have known that those voices belonged to civilized men.... not to
ruffians.. I thought... I thought they had lost their way somehow... so I
went deeper into the wood...." She gave a small shrug.
"Vivian, what prompted you to go into the wood? You told me yourself last
year that you would never journey through it even in the light of day
without a chaperone."
"Perhaps... perhaps it was the moon," she mumbled, half to herself, "or
perhaps it was the voices... I do not know..... but I had to see... I had
to..." She twisted her hands and stared that the top of the canopy, closing
her lips tightly.
"And what did you see in the wood?" he urged.
"I... I went deeper and deeper into the wood... I... I heard an owl and the
soft hum of insects.... and the voices had stopped..... until I heard a
laugh... from behind me...." she smiled and put her hand over her heart,
"... and I saw him..."
"Who was he, Vivian?"
"Ohhh... he was... tall and elegant... and his hair.. shinning like the sun
at night, tumbling around his face in soft curls.... he smiled at me...
smiled doctor.. his teeth flashing white in the moonlight.... such a
smile..." she turned her head, a faint amount of color rose in her sunken
cheeks.
"Did he say anything to you?"
"Yes... he laughed and made a bow.... and closed the distance between us...
lifting my hand to his lips..." she rubbed the top of her hand at the
memory, her words became softer, slightly slurred, as if she were drunk.
"He said 'Monsters hunt in the forest at night... you should not be out
alone.'... and his eyes locked on my.... blue eyes... stunning... blue
eyes... that held me... their facets turning every color of the
rainbow...." she stared vacantly in wonder at the recollection.
"And why did you not run?"
"I wanted to... and I didn't... he was so terrifyingly beautiful, doctor..
I was confused... mesmerized... lost in the color of his eye and the timbre
of his voice... it was as if I were under a spell..."
"And... what happened next?" the doctor stiffened slightly at this point in
the tale, he knew what she would say, but he could never make any sense of
it.
"He brushed my cheek with a.. gloved hand.... it was so cold.... I... I
wanted to warm him...." she lifted her own pale hand to her face, feeling
the damp skin. "He wrapped his arm around my waist so I could not move... I
didn't want to move... but his embrace.... like stone..." she shuddered.
"Why did you not scream?" he demanded somewhat coldly, he could never
understand what had prompted the young lady into allowing the gentleman to
take such liberties. He had known her since she had been born and had seen
her turn away admirers who demanded things unbefitting to a lady of her
station.
"I was lost to him then.. completely lost to him..." she shook her head.
"He took my hair and clenched it gently.... but firmly.. I knew I couldn't
run if I had tried... and then I realized the danger I was in... but all
too late...."
"And what happened? What did he do?"
"He..." a tear welled in her eye. "He pressed his lips to my neck and I
felt a sharp pain for a moment...and then...." she blushed once more,
"...pleasure... and the world faded and fell away... all I could feel was
his arm around me and his lips at my neck.. then blackness..."
The clenched his fist and looked away. He wanted nothing more than the
account to be false, for it to be an idle fantasy that she concocted in an
attempt to make herself believe she hadn't been raped. But when she had
been found, she was suffering from all the symptoms of a patient who had
lost a great deal of blood.
"I awoke in the forest, skirt tangled... hair caught.. the trees and vines
pinning me down..." her tone continued at a rapid pace, her words muttered
breathlessly. "I felt hollow... empty... alone... I.. I cannot remember...
cold... so cold... death... sweet death.... death wears such a beautiful
face... another man came.. beautiful.... fine... he came at night.... he
told Lestat to stop... Louis was his name... he begged... Lestat dropped
me..... I remember hitting the ground..." the fever encumbered her speech.
"'You take her ,' Lestat laughed and vanished..... Louis looked at me... I
tried to make the sign of the cross... doctor...doctor... I tried...."
The names came to him in a jumble of her frantic words. He had heard of
these gentlemen, his face set in firm resolve. Beforehand she had given no
names, the fever seemed to have opened her unconsciousness.
"Are you saying," he began evenly, "that this Lestat drained you of your
blood?"
"Yes," she whispered softly, nodding, twisting in the sheets. "Cold...it
was so cold.. he left me... he left me...." tears fell from her eyes.
The doctor stood. "I will pay a visit to this Lestat," he assured her,
picking up his bag.
"No..." she begged softly. "No!" she called weakly after his retreating
form.

The doctor mounted his horse and with a fierceness he had never possessed
before, dug his heels in its sides and shouted the mare on. He tore over
the dark paths of New Orleans, to the home he knew this Louis was. He
practically leapt of the horse when it was in mid-stride and threw the
reins to a servant; he stormed up the steps.
He pushed past the slave at the door and ignored the woman's pleas to wait
until he was announced, that the masters hate being disturbed. He pushed
open the door to what he assumed was the study and was met upon the scene
of Louis and Lestat reading comfortably in a well lit and lavishly
decorated room.
"Really doctor, such manners... tsk tsk," Lestat scolded, never once
lifting his eyes from the paper he held.
"What did you do to her!?" the doctor demanded sharply.
Louis looked up, casting a questioning glance at Lestat. "You didn't kill
her, did you Louis?" Lestat sighed, exasperated. He folded his paper
carefully and sat back, folding his fingers together in a contemplative
gesture. "Doctor," he spoke to the man as if he were a child of four, "you
storm into our home, disrupt our sanctuary and then you don't even bother
to say 'please'?"
"You are a damned monster! What did you do to her?!"
"Well..." he began carefully, a smile curving his lips, "what I am about to
do to you."
"I'll call the authorities! I know what you are! I'll call the priest! I'll
-" A few seconds later, the doctor lay sprawled across the floor, neck
snapped in two, a splash of blood spattered on his collar.
"Go finish what you started," Louis whispered hoarsely. "I'll dispose of
the body."
Lestat said nothing, but turned on his heal and left the room through the
window in a rustle of brocade and lace.

Vivian struggled fiercely with the sheets, mumbling in nonsensical tongues.
Her mother and father held one another as they listened to their daughter
cry out in pain or madness, they could not tell. Silently they slipped out
of the room, heads bowed, murmuring assurances to one another.
Suddenly her thrashings ceased, her eyes snapped open for a moment, she
stared blankly at the window. He was there, smiling, leaning casually
against the window frame. He leapt to the ground silently, her eyes
followed him closely as he made his way to the bed.
"Lestat," she whispered, holding her hand out.
He came to the bedside and kissed the frail hand, sitting beside her. "I
told you there were monsters in the woods at night, cherie." He smiled
again, his fangs flashing in the soft candlelight.
Her eyes hardened for a moment, "Satan," she whispered, feebly trying to
make the sign of the cross." It was neither and accusation nor an insult,
merely the only truth she could grasp.
He thoughtfully traced his thumb over her wrist, "Perhaps," he said slowly,
a mischievous fire lighting in his eyes, "I am just that." He smiled and
bit into her wrist draining her of the last bit of life she had managed to
come away with. "Good night, Vivian."
He slipped out of the room, blowing a kiss to her window. He glided
soundlessly to her garden, for a moment, he clasped his hands behind his
back and watched the spinning pattern of the climbing roses. In the next
instant, he vanished.

The End