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Disclaimer – As hard as this is to believe I do not own The Vampire Chronicles.
I know, I know, incredible isn’t it? The Chronicles and all information and
characters contained within belong to Anne Rice, and probably Lestat. This is
just for entertainment and no money is being made from this. I only claim the
rights to the following characters: Roderick, Anthony and Angelina.
Spec – Animal Mask
Rating – PG
Spoilers – up to Merrick and some hinting to certain events up to Blood and Gold
Summary – A man of The Talamasca discovers more than artifacts within the realm
of the vampires.
Dedication – To my newly appointed beta-reader Stephanie because to beta-read my
specs you’ve got to have a hell of a lot of patience ;)
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“ ‘Talamasca’. The word struck Daniel suddenly as beautiful. Talamasca. He broke
it down from the Latin, understood its parts. Somewhere out of his memory bank
it came: animal mask.”
The soles of his shoes clicked softly upon the cold stone steps as he continued
his decent down into the very womb of the Talamasca. It was dusty, untouched for
a long period of time. He made sure not to make any unnecessary noise. The
Elders would not appreciate the presence of a mere apprentice in this grand
vault of mystery and drama and romance and angst and euphoria and agony. He
let the beam of his flashlight reach the great shelf now directly in front of
him. Vampires.
Gingerly, he reached foreword with his hand and clasped a medium sized album.
He pulled it from the shelf with a slow gesture as if the collection of bound
paper would strike out against him if he aggravated it. He took the album and
sat down on the chilly stone with the shelf directly to his back.
Inhaling a deep breath, filled with the dust of the ages, he opened the album.
Letters. Letters written to vampires. Letters written by vampires. Letters
written by The Vampire Lestat. Lestat. He knew well of him. Despite the fact he
was only 32 years of age and had only been with The Order for 6 years, he felt
strangely close to this “James Bond of Vampires”. As soon as he’d been accepted
into The Order, his interest immediately found its way to these creatures of the
night. Especially towards Lestat. But no, he was too inexperienced, too young,
and too innocent. No fledging of The Order was permitted to study Lestat or the
others. Not after Jesse. Not after David. Not after Merrick.
His eyes wandered to the date of the first letter. 1786. From a newborn Vampire
Lestat to his ailing mortal mother. It was all in Italian, but he understood
most of it. She must take the money he’d enclosed and go back to Italy. But he
knew simply from reading Lestat’s autobiography that she would never make it.
She would instead go to Paris to spend her final and first hours with her son.
The next was a letter from a female vampire called Eleni telling Lestat that
his child Nicolas, Our Violinist she called him, had gone into the flames after
giving the order to her to send his Stradivarius to Lestat. A turn of the page
and he found another letter from Eleni telling if the attack of the Bastille and
the murder of his entire mortal family save his father who begs for him to come
to his aid. Ah, he remembered this well. The terrible anger Lestat had felt that
Gabrielle would conceal this letter from him.
There were other letters of course, plenty of them. More from Lestat and some
from his fledgling, Louis de Pointe du Lac. There were other documents here as
well. Here was written proof of when Lestat de Lioncourt had purchased Rue
Royale from Louis de Pointe du Lac. And oh yes, the documents that told him that
Louis de Pointe du Lac had owned several pieces of property, including his
plantation which he burned to the ground in 1794. There was even a copy of some
diary entries from the vampire child Claudia. He might be able to locate that
actual diary while he was down here . . . did it somehow find it’s way back down
here? Didn’t Merrick take it to Louis on that horrible night of wayward
resurrection so that he could read her texts?
Roderick shut the album and closed his eyes. Sometimes, it really was just
hard to believe in what he’d just beheld. Here was written proof that stated
that these creatures known as vampire, living cadaver, blood-drinker, nosferatu,
the undead existed. Not only did they walk the night, some members of The Order
had come into personal contact with them. In all the cases that Roderick could
recall, the encounter had resulted in the making of another.
Ah yes, he remembered all those instances very clearly. Jessica Reeves, turned
by Maharet after she’d broken her neck at The Vampire Lestat’s concert. Poor
Jesse had in fact seen the ghost of the child vampire, Claudia, when the
Talamasca sent her to New Orleans for more evidence of the events so poetically
described in Interview with the Vampire. And Louis de Pointe du Lac, begging
her to tell him
more of Claudia’s ghost when they were all reunited on Armand’s Night Island.
All those whom Akasha had spared that is.
Merrick Mayfair, turned by Louis after David had left the two of them alone.
Merrick who had brought back the ghost of Louis’ beloved daughter who in turn
attacked him in the same manner she did to her true immortal father Lestat.
Roderick wasn’t sure if he cared very much for Merrick at present. All he could
think about was that Louis had turned his back on Lestat, his Maker, when he
needed his vampire blood, yet he’d created a new vampire from Merrick. But
Merrick had admitted to placing him under a spell later on, after he’d tried to
do away with himself. Still, Roderick had great affection for Louis de Pointe du
Lac. Almost as much as he had towards Lestat.
Then there was David Talbot. Oh yes, David’s creation rang the foremost in his
mind. He could not recall a greater scene of betrayal. He’d felt a great sorrow
towards David and his loss of sudden youth and an abrupt hatred for Lestat.
Yet, how could he have expected anything less from the Brat Prince? How could
David have had expected anything less?
There was so much history locked away down here. It seemed wrong, even
blasphemous. All these great artifacts keeping company with the dark and dust.
Roderick reopened the album and flipped to the very last page. A letter written
from David Talbot, former superior general and now vampire, to his one-time
brothers and sisters of The Talamasca. He, Lestat, Louis and Merrick were all
leaving New Orleans. In the letter David warned them of Lestat, calling him an
“interesting adversary”. Roderick smiled as he remembered reading about that in
the last novel.
Leave.
The word came to him clearly and very suddenly. Leave. Had someone spoken it
aloud? He stood and placed the album back on the shelf.
Leave.
There is came again, just as strong and clear as the first time. Roderick was
too much a student of the paranormal to ignore any type of mind message.
Instantly, he felt his heart sink. Was it one of the Elders telling him to leave
the Tomb of Secrets and perhaps leave The Order for his insolence?
Roderick could feel himself beginning to panic. He could not fathom a life
without The Talamasca. He forced himself to calm. Taking within him a deep
breath, he headed back towards the stone steps that lead back up. He realized
that his hands were trembling, but he wasn’t sure if it was out of fear of being
discovered or fear of being shutout of The Order forever.
Do not forget your light.
Roderick stopped and slowly turned back. His flashlight lay next to the shelf
where he had been sitting. It’s light still shone. He quickly walked back and
grabbed the long, metal tube and turned back, almost running up the stairs.
Slowing his pace when he reached the top he carefully opened the heavy door,
reaching out with his mind to detect the possible presence of others, before he
stepped out and gently shut the door behind him. Unsure if he should wait for
the voice again, he slowly started walking back towards his room. Just as he
turned, he was faced with two Elders, Anthony and Angelina.
“Roderick,” exclaimed Anthony. “What are you doing down here at such an ungodly
hour?”
What time was it?
“I just needed to clear my head.”
Roderick could swear he read a faint laughter in his mind. Alas, eager to keep
them talking he continued.
“What brings you down here?”
“We’re going down to the vault,” Angelina said. Roderick’s heart stopped.
“We’ve got something important that needs recording, but first we want more
information on the subject.”
“Really,” Roderick asked. “Who?”
Angelina paused before she decided to continue.
“A vampire from Italy,” she said. “We’ve come to understand that something . .
. shall we say, quite significant has happened to him by the hands of a
newcomer.”
“Newcomer?” Roderick questioned. “A fledging?”
“Don’t concern yourself with these affairs Roderick,” Anthony spoke up. “You
know these things have no significance to you.”
Angelina looked like she was going to argue something in his defense but she
stopped herself. He couldn’t blame her. Anthony was correct, this wasn’t
supposed to be any of his concern.
“Well come along Anthony,” Angelina said. “We’ve got work to do. Good evening
Roderick.”
He smiled gently at her and as she and Anthony walked passed him he fancied he
felt her slender hand at his side. He walked back towards his room and when he
heard the vault door open and close he stopped and reached into his pocket. Sure
enough, there was a small note in there. He opened it and read. “Thorne is his
name. He’s a newcomer to us, be he is no fledging. He maybe be responsible for
recent happenings upon Santino.” It was signed “Angel”. He smiled. He liked to
think that Angelina had a soft spot for him. Nice to think that he had a true
friend in The Talamasca.
He pondered the note a little. What did she mean by “recent happenings upon
Santino”? Of course, he would not be allowed to look into this matter but
perhaps Angelina would tell him more if she saw fit. The last thing he wanted to
do was get her into trouble. Roderick had memorized the note the instant he read
it for he knew he would destroy it the second he got back to his room. After
quite a long walk through hallways and up stairs, he came to his chamber.
Unlocking the heavy wooden door he moved inside and closed it behind him. The
fire was still burning in the modest hearth as he’d left it when he’d made his
venture to the vault. He ripped the small white note several times in his hands
before he threw it into the living flame. Roderick watched for a moment as the
smooth white was quickly transformed into a harsh black before it fizzled out,
eaten by the flame.
Roderick.
He froze, for again came the voice and now it was beckoning him by name. His
thoughts that it had been Angelina warning him of her and Anthony’s impending
presence alluded him. That voice was not of someone he knew. Knowing not what
better to do, he called back softly into his empty room.
“Who are you?”
Do you truly wish to know?
Roderick realized that he was trembling for the second time that night. The
voice was so clear and strong in his mind that it was as if he himself were
thinking these thoughts. Roderick sent an answer back using his own powers of
mind control.
Yes.
For a long moment he waited for an answer. Had the contact left him? Had he
failed some unknown test? No, the contact was playing with him.
Leave your chamber. Go to the back doors downstairs and towards the trees.
Roderick shuddered again.
But who are you?
Come alone. Tell no one where or why you go.
Roderick wasn’t sure if he could even will his legs to move. He was so
uncertain of how to proceed. Every fiber of curiosity and want begged him to go,
but his mind was speaking of reason. He ignored it. Walking with determined
steps towards the door, he stopped just as his hand found the handle.
It’s quite cold out here.
Roderick moved to receive his black trench coat from its place on the rack and
slipped it on before he opened the door and went down the stairs for the second
time that night. Once he got to the large twin doors in the back of the
building, he deactivated the alarm system and ventured out into the cold, crisp
night.
Roderick let his eyes adjust to the dark surroundings before he went forth.
Everything was coming in very clear as he made his way towards the trees. The
crunch of the near-frozen leaves under his feet. The feel of the frigid air
going down his throat. The abnormal way his heart was beating against his chest.
Of course the closer he come to the dark forest, he still had no idea where the
mind caller was. He wasn’t even sure what his contact was. It could have been a
number of things.
Roderick stopped at the first large oak he came across. He looked around with
uncertainty as he had when he left The Motherhouse.
“Are you here?” he called out in a shaky voice. When no answer came, Roderick
called out again. “Are you here?”
He did not know how much longer he could stand there, feeling the fear violate
every area of his body with painful precision. Roderick knew that he could not
hold out much longer and remain calm. After calling out once more and again
receiving no answer, he turned and headed back towards The Talamasca. It was
then that he felt the iron-hand clamp down on his shoulder like a vice and that
voice, that once eerie voice he’d heard in his head was now a cold whisper very
close to his ear.
“We weren’t getting impatient were we?”
Roderick suddenly feared that he had made a terrible mistake. There was nothing
he could do to rectify this now. He was in the hands, literally, of the creature
behind him. He wanted to turn and face the creature, but the grip was so
powerful that he did not think he would be able to. Instead, Roderick willed his
trembling lips to move and make words.
“Who are you?”
“A matter of study apparently,” came the reply.
Roderick swallowed.
“You’re a vampire?”
“You tell me.”
The impossibly strong on his shoulder still prevented him from turning. But he
knew full and well what stood behind him. Iron grip. Stone hard skin. Cold
breath and flesh. Vampire, no doubt.
“Very good,” said the vampire. “Now who am I?”
Conjuring up his courage again Roderick answered.
“If you would allow me to face you perhaps I could answer that question.”
For a moment there was nothing but an unbearably loud silence. Then Roderick
felt the hand give his shoulder a tight squeeze before it slipped down and off
him. Without hesitation Roderick turned and faced the vampire.
“Lestat,” he said immediately.
The tall blond directly in front of him smiled. My God, but he was handsome.
His bright hair was pulled back and held by a piece of black cord. His attire, a
surprisingly simple outfit, consisted of dark blue jeans and a black sweater
that fitted his slender, muscular form perfectly. Skin, entirely smooth and
flawless and still showed some hint of his attempted suicide in the Gobi over 8
years prior. And those eyes, those eyes of lustrous blue crystals shone with the
preternatural luster that until this moment he’d only read about but never laid
eyes on for himself. Simply put, beautiful in every aspect.
“I know,” Lestat said. “I was wondering when you would notice.”
Roderick was not sure if he should give into the thought that he was dreaming
or not. After all, the Vampire Lestat, standing there directly in front of him?
“Yes, yes I know it may seem strange,” Lestat remarked. “But then again perhaps
it should not. You should know I do have somewhat of a habit for the Talamasca.”
Ah yes, David, Roderick thought. But he wasn’t really sure what Lestat meant by
habit. By all accounts, Roderick was fairly certain that Lestat, if not all
vampires, had a natural distaste for the Order. His mind raced back again to
that final letter written by David, warning The Talamasca of Lestat. He
remembered the novel Merrick and that conversation Lestat had had with David.
His newest fledgling asked him twice not to harm the Talamasca; he attempted to
get him to promise. And twice, Lestat had avoided answering the question.
Roderick was becoming frightened again. The Talamasca did practically drive
“The Coven of the Articulate” from New Orleans. By all means Lestat should hold
a grudge towards them, something that utterly terrified him.
“Relax mon petit garçon, I have not come to harm you. If I wanted to it would
have been done long before now.”
Was that supposed to make him feel better?
“Yes, and it should,” Lestat blankly stated. “But I might have to do something
to you if you do not begin verbal conversation.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,” Roderick quickly admitted. “I can’t
believe you’re here.”
“Understandable,” Lestat said. “But I’ve traveled quite a distance to see you.
You don’t want me to leave disappointed n’est-ce pas?”
“No, no, no,” Roderick answered immediately and repeatedly. “I just was curious
as to why you decided to come here. Why you came to see me.”
Lestat smiled again and Roderick felt his heart rate quicken which seemed to
cause Lestat to smile more. Roderick exhaled a great deal of breath, watching as
the vapor slowly disappeared. It was then that he noticed that Lestat’s breath
caused no such mist.
“Probably for the same reason you are content to be here with me,” he replied.
“You interest me. At least for the moment.”
“Why?”
“Why do you care?” Lestat said with a touch of anger and annoyance in his
voice. “You should be grateful that I decided to come at all.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Roderick stammered. “You must forgive me-“
“Must I?” Lestat interrupted.
“ . . . I’m just amazed by all of this.”
“Well, if you are so utterly amazed, perhaps I should just leave you.”
“No, please stay, please,” Roderick pleaded. “May I ask you some questions?”
“I do not see why not,” Lestat said smiling again. “But I do not wish to carry
on a conversation out here. My infinite power aside, I still prefer to be in a
warm place. This cold annoys me.”
“Of course, of course,” Roderick said. “Where would you like to go?”
Lestat said nothing, only looked past him suddenly at that regal structure
behind him. Roderick paled. He could into take him into the Motherhouse.
Absolutely not! He was not permitted to even be studying them let alone invite
one into the Motherhouse!
“I’ll tell them I forced you, hypnotized you,” Lestat said. “Whatever the
excuse, I wish to speak in there, in your private chamber. I shall meet you up
there. If you do not arrive in one minute I shall leave. You will not keep me
waiting.”
Before Roderick could respond, Lestat was gone and he was alone in the frigid
night. After a few moments of hesitation, he turned and ran back towards the
Motherhouse. He could feel the cold air stinging his throat as his chilled hands
reached the doors. He deactivated the alarm and swiftly ran up the stairs and
towards his room.
“Roderick?”
He stopped and turned to the sound of the voice. There stood Angelina with a
concerned look on her face.
“What were you doing out there at this hour?”
“I’m sorry Angel, I can’t explain now,” he said in a hurried voice. “I have to
go. I’ll see you later.”
Angelina could barely make out the last part of that sentence as his voice was
carried away with him as he continued running. When he made it to his room, his
hands fumbled with the key and lock. Roderick violently forced the door open. He
could not see him. More quietly, he closed the door and looked closely around.
The fire had worn down just a little but was still bright with life. As he
commenced to walk around the chamber his eyes wandered. His voice was tight when
he called out.
“Lestat?”
“You took your time.”
Roderick whirled around to find the chair behind him now occupied by Lestat. It
had been empty only moments before.
“I’m sorry,” Roderick apologized. “I came as fast as I could.”
Lestat stood and walked slowly around the room, eyeing everything. Roderick’s
full attention was focused on him.
“So what is it that you wanted to ask me?”
Unable to find the words, Roderick said nothing. Lestat looked at him with a
gaze of curiosity and imploring eyes.
“Well?”
Roderick shook himself a little.
“There are so many things.”
“Well decide upon one.”
Roderick stopped again and found himself drawn in by that powerful stare and it
seemed the world was slipping away. The Vampire Lestat was standing not 10 feet
from him and was allowing him to ask questions. Quite suddenly, Lestat lowered
his eyes and Roderick felt himself come back.
“Well,” he began. “The name Anne Rice is a pseudonym, yes?”
Lestat nodded.
“But Anne Rice the woman does exist.”
“Yes she does,” Lestat said. “When I decided that I wanted to print my stories
for the world’s eyes I knew that it had to be able to pass as fiction.
Therefore, I used the nom de plume that Daniel Molloy used when Interview with
the Vampire was published. But Anne Rice herself is very much alive and in
contact with us. She takes the direct credit for the works my companions and I
write and the money of course goes to her for her unending loyalty to us.”
“And she protects you, helps to pass you off for fictional characters,”
Roderick added.
“Yes,” Lestat said. “But surely you must have known something about this. The
Talamasca is, after all, mentioned quite a few times in the Chronicles.”
“You’d be surprised what they don’t tell us, at least not anymore,” Roderick
answered.
He did not wish to discuss this matter further. Lestat was mostly the reason
why he was not allowed to know these things. His iron gaze was holding Roderick
again.
“Would you permit me to ask you another question?”
“Mais oui bein sûr,” Lestat answered.
Lestat extended his hand towards the chair closest to the tender mortal before
him. Roderick found that amusing, being invited to sit in his own chamber.
Nevertheless, he accepted the invitation. He settled himself in the chair and
watched as Lestat re-seated himself directly across from him. He placed one
ankle over his opposite knee and waited for Roderick to continue.
“What of the others,” Roderick asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Do they exist? Louis de Pointe du Lac, Marius de Romanus, Armand, Khayman . .
.Santino,” Roderick’s mind flashed again to that note Angelina had given him.
“Yes,” Lestat replied. “Everyone ever written about in the Chronicles at one
point in time lived, be they mortal or immortal.”
“Even those of the First Brood?”
Lestat nodded.
“And your lives truly depend upon the welfare of Mekare?”
“Yes, as they once did upon Akasha.”
Lestat became somber and he dropped his eyes for a moment. Roderick understood
how horrible it had been for Lestat. How horrible it had been for all of them.
But he was terribly excited now that Lestat had confirmed to him that the others
he’d read of and come to greatly adore existed as Lestat existed.
“Is there something else you wish to ask me?”
“I’m sure there is,” Roderick stated truthfully. “But I cannot recall it at
present.”
“Well I really wish you could. I could be home exchanging passionate embraces
and other intimacies with my Louis.”
Roderick pondered what Lestat had just said and then a slight smile broke out
on his face.
“Then you and Louis are . . . more comfortable with one another than you
express in your books?”
Lestat grinned.
“No, but that is what all those fan fiction authors seem to think.”
“So you read the fan fiction about you and the others?”
“Of course, what better form of flattery is there than having fictions written
about you by admirers?”
“You enjoy them?”
“Most all of them yes. They tend to be very well written and rather charming.
There was one particular one that I remember dealing largely with Louis’ sister
and myself. In the story I gave her yellow flowers, no, roses, that was the
title, Yellow Roses. Absolutely enchanting.”
Roderick was laughing and trying not to, alas, his trembling shoulders betrayed
him.
“Does that amuse you?”
“Well,” he began. “Yes. What it must be like reading fictions about you written
by strangers.”
“Quite entertaining,” Lestat said. “The fans know me so well, Louis also. Mon
Dieu, there is one author who always seems to write very morose tragedies about
mon pauvre Louis. I do wish I could recall her name. I believe she wrote one
entitled “Thaw” once.”
Roderick smiled.
“Do the others read fan fictions as well?”
“They do, but they like to pretend they do not,” Lestat said. “I believe they
are embarrassed.”
Lestat slowly shrugged his shoulders. He was looking at Roderick so intently
suddenly that Roderick could feel his fear rising again.
“There is something else you wish to ask me. Or something . . .else. There is
something on your mind but it seems your mental shield has finally kicked in.”
Lestat smiled at him. Roderick pulled his gaze away and discovered a new
interest in the floor.
“Just ask garçon,” Lestat said.
As soon as he resumed eye contact with him, Roderick felt his heart flutter. In
that moment, Roderick’s mind once again opened up and Lestat caught what he
wanted to propose.
“You may,” he said calmly.
Roderick’s eyes seemed to snap and he concentrated on his breathing. After a
moment, he came foreword out of his chair and knelt beside Lestat were he still
sat regally composed in the chair. With a painfully languid and mindful hand,
he reached foreword and felt the flesh of the vampire’s own. He gasped when his
warm skin came into contact with the cold marble. Lestat’s eyes were dancing
with amusement at the mortal’s childlike movements and utter fascination.
“Is it as you expected?”
Roderick looked at his nails. Like pieces of glass caught in the moon’s beams
they were. Shimmering on his long, fine fingers.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “On a certain level it is. Exactly what I
expected, I just . . .”
“What?”
“Don’t think I ever believed it was really possible.”
Roderick released his hand and looked back up at his face. The vampire’s face
covered by that same perfect skin that covered his hands. Those smiling eyes
peering closely at him, laughing at his amazement. In a true act of bravery,
Roderick reached up with a chary movement and touched his fingertips to the side
of Lestat’s face. It felt just as his hand had. Roderick was studying his own
hand that was carefully moving over the adamantine skin. When Lestat did not
stop this, he moved up and felt the soft, soft hair. To think this creature has
been dead since the 18th century. Again Lestat smiled.
“Are you satisfied?”
A sudden wave of shyness came over Roderick and he looked away and stood up.
“Is there anything you require from me? Anything at all?”
Lestat seemed to be pondering. His fingers curled and resting under his chin as
he thought. Not long after, he stood and took two steps towards Roderick. The
mortal took two steps back.
“Yes,” Lestat said. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
Roderick was a little taken back.
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“For starters, why would you, a handsome, intelligent young man dedicate your
life to The Talamasca? I have often wondered why a person would do such a
thing.”
There was a pause, for Roderick was unsure of how to respond.
“I suppose I cannot help it,” Roderick began. “Ever since I can remember I’ve
held an interest in the supernatural. But I guess that’s the result of two
parents who both were obsessed with the tales of Edgar Allan Poe.”
“Ah, so you are named for Roderick Usher?”
“Yes.”
Lestat seemed to begin to ask him another question, but changed his mind and
grinned.
“I know what you’re wondering,” he said in a sly voice.
“Wondering?”
“Yes, no use in trying to deny it. I can read it on your face if not in your
mind.”
Roderick honestly had no idea as to what he was referring. The vampire came
closer still and the mortal forced himself not to move back on sheer instinct.
They were no more than a foot away now.
“You’re wondering what it would be like to have me drink from you.”
Roderick’s eyes widened.
Roderick stopped breathing. If he had been thinking that, he truly was unaware
of it.
“Do not act so stunned,” Lestat said. “Even if you were not directly thinking
of it, your subconscious was pondering for you. Do not be surprised, every
mortal who has read my novels has wondered. Especially those who are locked
within the confines of The Talamasca who know more intimately of us. But you
certainly do not have to study us to feel this way, it is simple human nature I
speak of."
Roderick’s breathing had resumed but he still had no idea what to say.
“Do you deny this?”
With wide eyes and a tight voice Roderick answered.
“No . . .no.”
Lestat smiled widely.
“Would you like to know?”
What did he say?
“Wh-what?” Roderick stammered.
Again Lestat smiled and his eyes danced, this was great fun. It was then that
Roderick assumed the vampire was teasing him, playing with him. Of course he
was.
“No, I’m not teasing you,” Lestat said. “I am very, very serious.”
My God, Roderick thought. This cannot be happening.
“Do you wish to experience this Roderick?” Lestat asked. “Do you?”
His heart was beating faster and faster. He wanted to scream yes, he wanted to
tell Lestat that this is what he had dreamed of ever since the evening he’d
found a withered copy of Interview with the Vampire in an old used bookstore.
But his rational mind was screaming at him. Never would he be able to contain
the secret of a vampire’s kiss within himself. He would be expelled from the
Order the moment it was discovered, which was certain to happen.
“Pay no mind to your loyalties Roderick,” Lestat said. “Answer me now, or this
meeting is over.”
Where was his voice? It had become an extremely soft whisper.
“Yes.”
“Was that a yes?”
A little louder this time.
“Yes.”
The smile on Lestat’s face was rampant for a moment and then vanished in the
sudden serious mask that now covered his face. He stepped foreword to close the
sparse distance between them but Roderick inadvertently stepped back. Lestat’s
hand came out like a snake after the mouse and held him in place. Roderick
wondered if he could chance his mind, but he knew he didn’t want to. As did
Lestat.
Roderick was trying to keep himself calm, trying to resist the impending,
gnawing feeling of panic in the pit of his stomach. Lestat was now looking at
him with an unusual glare of kindness. Not long after however, the vampire broke
his gaze and leaned in towards his neck. Roderick could feel the icy breath in
the sensitive skin just below his ear. For a moment, all he could feel was
Lestat’s lips lingering on his flesh. Immediately, Roderick knew that he was
prolonging it. He wished that Lestat would not delay any longer for each passing
second it was becoming closer to pulling away, to telling Lestat to stop, to
even yelling for help. Not that he believed it would do him any good.
It was then that he felt the precise penetration of Lestat’s fangs in his
flesh, going deeper with extreme languidness. Roderick could not holdback a gasp
due to the sharp pain, but it quickly dissolved on a drowsy euphoria. Lestat was
drinking very slowly from him, careful not to take more than what he deemed
sufficient. Roderick had lost himself on the incredible feeling of pure,
unbridled pleasure that was flowing through his entire body. It was utterly
indescribable.
It was then that Lestat withdrew from him. Roderick wanted to weep at the
sudden lost contact. He wanted to beg Lestat to go on, to drain him completely,
forget the rest of the world and just do it. Instead, he watched in silence as
Lestat pierced his fingertip with one of his elongated canines. He then came in
close again and rubbed his magic blood on the two tiny wounds of the side of
Roderick’s throat. Roderick reached up once he was done and felt that indeed
there were no marks. It could not have taken longer than three seconds.
“Thank you,” Roderick whispered.
Lestat did not say anything but he nodded a little. Roderick was becoming
uncomfortable. What does one say after something like that anyway?
“Is there. . . anything else. . . you want?” Roderick asked with a dreary
voice.
Lestat reached out and stroked Roderick’s hair like a man would a child.
“No,” he said. “Anything I would have wanted, I have just acquired.”
Roderick paled and went limp. Why hadn’t he thought of that? While Lestat was
taking that precious little amount of his blood, he was able to ascertain
answers, knowledge, secret information. He was able to take anything and
everything he wanted from his mind regarding the Order. All the power, all the
mystery, everything. He would be disowned.
“Relax child,” Lestat said gently.
The vampire came closer to him once more and took the side of his face in each
of his cool hands.
“They’ll never know.”
Roderick lowered his lids as Lestat leaned in again, but this only placed his
lips upon his cheek in a serene kiss. A parting kiss.
“Do not remember.”
The End