Second Chances
by T. Isilwath

	We are screaming at each other again.  We do 
that a lot.  Funny thing is, I don't even remember 
what triggered this particular argument.  It could 
have been anything, a snide remark, an attitude, any 
number of things.  The cause is not important, and it 
was forgotten as soon as my temper flared and loosed.  
Another fight, in a string of fights, Louis and I at 
each other's throats with David in the middle, trying 
to calm us both down.  Same old, same old.  Sorry, 
David, some nights we just need to scream this out.  
Tonight, it would seem, is one of those nights.  
	Louis is not backing down the way he usually 
does, which only prolongs the fight.  He's got his 
hackles up, his green eyes blazing, and he is fighting 
back.  It's not normal for him, but I've thrown a few 
choice barbs at him aimed on striking his most 
sensitive spots.  It works beautifully.  He's 
positively enraged now.
	"You hate me!  You've always hated me!  You 
hated me the night you made me!  That was why you made 
me!  You wanted to be able to hate me forever!" he 
accuses.
	"How unimaginative of you, Louis.  You screamed 
that at me the last time we fought like this.  Can't 
you come up with something new?" I retort.
	"Lestat, stop baiting him," David scolds.
	"You stay out of this, David.  This is between 
Louis and me.  Isn't that right, Louis?"
	"You are such a bastard, Lestat!" Louis seethes.
	"No, I'm not.   I knew my father.  You knew him 
too, if I remember correctly."
	"Yes, and you made me kill him because you were 
too much of a coward to do it yourself.  You should 
have stayed and burned with that damn house!"
	Careful, Louis, you're getting too close now.  I 
see David give him a warning glance.
	"What Louis?  Are you saying you want me dead?" 
I tease.  "You've already tried that and it didn't 
work, remember?  So you're stuck with me.  Get used to 
it."
	He clenches his fists.  "Oh!  I cannot stand the 
sight of you any longer!  I am going to my room!"
	He turns and heads for his bedroom.  I hear the 
door close and lock as he shuts himself in.  I am even 
more angry now.  I hate it when Louis walks out on me!
	I move to go after him, but David grabs my arm 
and tries to hold me back.
	"Don't, Lestat."
	"Let me go," I snarl, ripping my arm from his 
grasp.
	I storm to Louis' room and kick open the door.  
Louis is by his bed and he whirls to face me as I 
burst in.  He is holding something which he quickly 
tries to hide from my sight.
	"Get out!  Get out of my room!" he yells, 
furious.
	"No.  I'll come in whenever I please.  This is 
my house, remember?  And what is that?  What are you 
hiding?" I demand.
	"Nothing."
	"Don't 'nothing' me," I snarl, grabbing him with 
one hand and reaching around to snatch whatever he 
holds with the other.
	"No!" Louis blurts as I shove him away from me 
and look at the item.
	It's book.  An old worn book with yellowed pages 
and a cracked cover.  I recognize it immediately.  
It's Claudia's diary.  Where did he get that?
	"Give that back!" he commands and rips it from 
my hands.
	I move to take it again, but David interposes 
himself between me and Louis.
	"Where did you get that?"
	"I gave it to him, Lestat.  I got it from the 
London Motherhouse the last time I was there," David 
answers.
	"Give it to me!" I command.
	"No!  It's all I have left of her!!  The 
daughter, the lover, you sent to her death!!" Louis 
snaps, beginning to cry.  Then in a fit of anger, he 
continues on his tirade, sealing his fate.  "She was 
right about everything she ever said about you, 
Lestat!  And I will never forgive you for what you 
did!!  You took her away from me!  If it weren't for 
you, she's still be alive, and I'd be with her!  I 
wish she had really killed you!  I wish you were still 
dead in that swamp!" he charges, clutching the diary.
	That does it.  My violent temper snaps for good.  
He should know better than to bring up that in a fight 
like this.  I growl and slam my fist into his armoire.  
It shakes under the blow and the wooden door cracks.  
He pauses, suddenly frightened, and I think he knows 
he's overstepped the limits, but then so have I 
tonight as well.  This is going to be one of our most 
vicious fights.
	"Lestat," David begins.  "Lestat, calm down."
	I ignore his request, glaring at Louis.  It's 
too late.  It's way too late for that.
	"How dare you speak such things of Claudia?!  
That ungrateful bitch who rose up against me twice!!  
And you!  You betrayer!  You helped her!!  You were 
her accomplice!" I shout.
	"We wouldn't have needed to escape you if you'd 
been kinder!  If you hadn't been a monster, we never 
would have left!" he cries.
	"Monster??!!  Monster!?  Monster was the child 
who poisoned me and slit my throat!!!  Monster, was 
the ungrateful fledgling who hit his maker with a 
poker, thrusting him back into the fire!  If I had had 
any say in the matter, you would have been shoved out 
into the courtyard with her and that crazy woman you 
made!" I scream.
	"That is not true!  You begged them to let me go 
with you!  I heard you begging!!"
	"I _never_ beg!"
	"I heard you!  You begged them, you begged 
_me_!" he insists.
	I grab him by the throat.  "I despise you!  I 
despise looking at you!  I want you gone from my life.  
I've half a mind to kill you myself!"
	He glares back at me, unafraid.  "Then kill me 
and get it over with!  Go on!  Burn me like you burned 
Claudia!!!!"
	My rage rises to new levels.  I no longer even 
hear David's pleas for sanity.  I throw Louis from me. 
He strikes the wall and collapses to his knees, the 
diary landing on the floor a few feet away.
	"How dare you accuse me of that!!!  I was not 
the one who killed her!"
	"But you testified!  You condemned her!  Her 
blood is on your hands!"
	"As will yours if you don't watch your tongue!"
	His tears flow freely now.  "Why should I??  Why 
should I prolong this Hell?!  Why should I care if I 
live or die?  Kill me!!  Kill me now!  I won't be your 
pawn any longer!"
	I raise my hand to strike him, but David grabs 
my arm.  "Lestat, no!  Don't!!  Please!"
	I wrench my wrist from his grasp, still glaring 
at Louis, and I bare my teeth, snarling.  Then I turn 
my rage upon his belongings, beginning with Claudia's 
diary.  It bursts into flames, pages scattering 
everywhere.  Louis lets out a cry of horror and alarm.
	"Lestat!!!"
	I go to his bookcase and rip down his books, 
tearing them to shreds as I go.
	"Lestat!  Lestat, what are you doing??!" David 
demands, trying to grab me again.
	I thrust him away.  In the background I can hear 
Louis's groans of anguish.  I grab his prized 
unabridged copy of Leroux's Phantom of the Opera.
	"No..." I hear him plead.
	I tear it into confetti.  He sobs and I see him 
trying to grab the pages of Claudia's dairy, gathering 
them up with reverence, trying to save them.  It sends 
me further into my madness, and I begin to demolish 
the furniture, screaming.
	"Lestat!  Lestat, stop it!  Please!!!" David 
beseeches.
	"Lestat..." Louis begins, but I turn on him.
	"Betrayer!  Get out!!  Get out of my house!  I 
never want to see you again!"
	"Lestat, you can't mean that!" David cries.
	"I do!  I want you gone!  You're right!  I hate 
you!  I've always hated you!!!  Now get out of my 
house!!"
	"Oh, Lestat..." David moans.
	Louis stares at me in shock, his eyes wide.
	"What are you waiting for??!!  Get out!!  Take 
your miserable self out of my house!  Be gone!!!"
	For emphasis, I set his bed ablaze.  He gasps, 
the tears streaming down his face, his fist balled 
into his mouth.  Then he rises and runs from the room.  
I hear him head down the stairs and out the door, 
slamming it behind him.  The sound of the door and its 
subsequent shaking of the entire house, jars me from 
my fury and I begin to calm down.  David is beside me, 
yelling, but I don't really hear him.  I'm just 
starting to return to sanity and comprehend what has 
just occurred.  I threw Louis out of our flat.  Why?
	My God, what have I done?  
	"Lestat, you've gone too far!  Lestat!" David 
screams at me, enraged.
	I pant heavily, looking at the demolished room, 
my anger fading.  The horror is creeping in now.  His 
books are strewn everywhere, ripped pages scattered 
all over the floor.  The bed is broken in half, the 
posts ripped apart, andthe sheets and bedspread 
scorched.  His lamp table, dresser and armoire are 
smashed beyond repair.  The remnants of Claudia's 
diary lie burnt on the rug, smoldering.  I did this?  
How could I have done this?  No, not me.  I didn't say 
those things.  I didn't do this.  But I did.  In my 
heart, I know I did.  And in my heart, I know he is 
not coming back.  I sink to my knees, stunned.  David 
shakes me violently.
	"We have to find him, Lestat!  We have to bring 
him back!"
	"He'll be fine," I intone dully.  But I won't.  
My God, Louis was right.  I am nothing but a monster.  
An utter monster.
	David shakes his head emphatically, pulling on 
me.  "No.  It's different this time. You broke 
something inside him.  Lestat, I fear for his sanity!"
	That reaches me and I look up at him, my vision 
fuzzy.  "What do you mean?"
	"Lestat, look at the time!  It's almost dawn!  
You know he can't withstand the morning!  He should be 
in his lair by now, but he's out there.  And I don't 
think he's looking for shelter!"
	I glance at the clock and realize that David is 
very right.  Fear surges through me, breaking me out 
of my stupor and I stand.  
	"We have to find him," I blurt, frightened.
	"I know, and I think I can, but you'll have to 
take me.  I'm almost out of time myself."
	"All right.  Let's go."
	I grab him and we race from the room to the 
balcony.  He holds to me as we go up into the sky, his 
face a mask of concentration as he looks for Louis.
	"Are you getting anything?  Can you see him?"
	David shakes his head.  "No.  Wherever he is, 
he's already gone to sleep."
	I start to panic.  It's nearly dawn, David will 
be losing consciousness soon and Louis is out there 
somewhere. What if David is right??  I have to find 
him.  I have to make sure he's safe.  Oh, God.  I'm so 
sorry!
	"Try harder, David!  Please!"
	"I am trying, but my limbs are going numb.  Oh 
God, Lestat.  I won't last much longer."
	"Fight it, David!"
	"Don't drop me, Lestat..."
	"I've got you.  I won't let you fall.  Please 
David!  Keep trying!"
	His eyes close and I see the sky getting 
brighter and brighter.  My own limbs are starting to 
tingle, and I am filled with dread.
	"David, please..."
	He moans, his brows creasing.
	"I've got him.  Oh God, Lestat!  He's out in the 
open!  Lestat, he's being burned!"
	"Where?!  Where is he??"
	"His grave, his crypt in the cemetery.  Lestat, 
hurry..."
	I scowl.  How melodramatic.  Damn you, Louis.  I 
turn my mind towards St. Louis #1 and streak there.  I 
find Louis lying on the grass next to his tomb, his 
skin is scalded from the morning light, but he cannot 
feel the pain: he is in his Death Sleep.  I pause, the 
sight of him making my heart almost cease to beat.  
He's laid himself very deliberately, ready for the 
sun, ready for death.  The guilt washes over me and I 
grab him, hoisting him up in my arms and holding him 
with one arm while I hold David with the other.  Then 
I head for home as fast as I can fly.
	Once safely home, and Louis laid on my bed, 
shielded from the sunlight, the reality of what just 
happened hits me and I stagger from the blow.
	"My God, he tried to do away with himself."
	David, still clinging to consciousness, looks at 
me reproachfully.  "Well, what did you expect?  You 
smashed his room, told him to get out, told him you 
never wanted to see him again, and destroyed 
everything that was precious to him."
	He's right.  The brutality of it is so true.  I 
begin to weep.  How could I have let this happen?  How 
could I have done such terrible things?  I curl into a 
ball, hiding my face, the tears streaming down my 
cheeks.
	"My God, my God..."
	David puts a hand on my shoulder.  "I have to 
go, Lestat.  I can't fight it any longer."
	I hold his palm and look up at him, then at 
Louis.  "You, you stay with him David.  Make sure he 
is all right."
	"You should do that."
	"No.  He won't want to see me.  Not after all 
I've done."
	"I can assure you that he'll be disappointed 
that it is me and not you."	
	"No..."
	"Yes.  We both should stay with him."
	That seems like a reasonable solution.  "Yes."
	I rise to my feet, swiping my tears away and 
David leads me back to the bed.  We both crawl onto 
it, David on the side that Louis is facing and me 
behind Louis, spooning my body against his back and 
holding him close.  I feel David settle in and hear 
him breathe deep before he loses consciousness.  I 
stay awake, listening and watching.  Louis' black hair 
swirls in my face, but I don't care.  He's safe.  We 
got him in time.  I close my eyes, gripping him 
tightly.  I can see the red scalds on his face from 
the sunlight and I start to shake.  Louis, my Louis... 
almost gone.  Louis, how can you ever forgive me?  The 
tears come again and I weep until the Death Sleep 
takes me.
	I wake just after the sun dips below the 
horizon.  Both Louis and David are still asleep, so I 
stay in bed.  Neither have moved from their positions 
of this morning, and I am still spooned against Louis' 
back.  I look over at him and am pleased to see that 
his scalds don't look nearly as red as they did 
before.  He'll heal even more after he feeds tonight.  
Looking at him, I know that I must control my temper.  
I cannot allow this to happen again.  But how can I 
not when he infuriates me so?  Perhaps I am the one 
who should die.  But I cannot die, that has already 
been established.  I don't know what to do.  I almost 
lost him and that scares me to death.  It scares me 
even more to know that I was the one who caused him to 
try to kill himself.  I still see him lying on the 
grass, head turned to face the rising sun and I freeze 
up with fear.  It's all my fault.  Lestat, you are a 
demon!  Louis, oh my poor Louis...  I kiss his temple, 
reassuring myself that he is there.  I cannot live 
with him, and I don't want to live without him.  It is 
a no-win situation.  And what if he tries it again?  
What if we can't save him next time?  I begin to weep 
again, and I bury my face in his hair, hugging him 
close.
	"Louis...  Oh Louis..."
	"Shhhh, it's all right Lestat.  He's safe.  We 
got to him in time," David comforts, stroking my hair.
	"It's all my fault, David."
	"No it's not.  He was goading you.  I realize 
that now.  He plays devil's advocate."
	"No... I shouldn't have lost my temper like 
that.  It was unforgivable."
	He frowns.  "Well, that is something you and 
Louis will have to work out, but he isn't entirely 
without guilt."
	"There is so much pain between us, David.  We 
can't ever seem to get past it.  It drags us down and 
keeps us at each other's throats."
	"You have to find a way to put it behind you."
	"I don't know how.  There is so much shared 
history between us, David.  We can't change the past, 
but oh how I wish I could."
	"Maybe you can."
	I stare at him.  "What do you mean?"
	"Lestat, if you could go back and change one 
thing.  Do one thing differently in your life with 
Louis, what would it be?"
	I think a moment.  I almost say 'making Claudia' 
but I stop.  If I hadn't made her, Louis would have 
left me.  No, I'd have to go further back than that.
	"How I made him.  I would do it with more care, 
more consideration.  I wouldn't have made him hate 
me," I admit softly.
	"And that is what you would do over again?"
	"Yes."
	"Then perhaps I can help."
	I almost laugh but I see he is serious.  "How, 
David?"
	"I can send you both back... mentally of course, 
to that time, and you could do it over again.  Show 
him what you would do now."
	My eyes light up.  "A second chance?"
	"In a manner of speaking.  It wouldn't be real, 
more like a dramatization, but it would give you the 
opportunity to show him how you would change things."
	"How would you do this?"
	"In life I was adversed in the occult.  You know 
this, Lestat, and I am familiar with the art of 
hypnosis."
	"Hypnosis?  David, you're joking!"
	He seems offended.  "No, I'm not."
	I start to laugh anyway and his eyes flash with 
anger.
	"Now see here, Lestat, do you want what happened 
last night to keep happening?  Do you want to continue 
this cycle?"
	That sobers me and I glance down at Louis who is 
still asleep.  
	"No," I admit slowly.
	His gaze follows mine.  "And I for one am tired 
of seeing the two of you fight, and last night Louis 
came dangerously close to leaving us forever."  I see 
tears well in his eyes.  "I _do not_ want that...  
Every fight you have hurts me.  Every time you tear 
each other apart, you tear me apart too.  So I offer 
you my services, in an attempt to help the two of you 
both live, and live in peace."
	He looks at me, his heart breaking.  "I love you 
both so much, Lestat."
	I reach over Louis and take his hand, squeezing 
it.  "I'm sorry we put you through such pain, David.  
Forgive me."
	He tries to smile.  "It's all right."
	"No, it's not, and you're right.  It has to 
stop.  You say this hypnosis can make us see and 
manipulate the past?"
	"It can make it seem so.  Like I said, it will 
be more like a dramatization."
	I nod, listening to him and considering the 
possibilities.  "We'll talk to Louis when he wakes."
	"Good.  Thank you."
	I smile.  "At this point, I'm willing to try 
almost anything."
	Louis makes a sound next to us and we realize 
that he is awakening.  We lean over him, looking at 
him expectantly, watching him rise.  His brows crease 
and he makes a little moan of pain as he rolls to his 
back.
	"Shhhh, shhhh, my darling.  You're safe.  You're 
safe now," I soothe.
	At the sound of my voice his eyes snap open and 
he stares at me.  Then his face twists with rage and 
he makes a strangled sound, his fists coming up to 
pummel my chest.  He weeps as he strikes me, sobbing, 
trying to hurt me.  But he can't hurt me.  I barely 
feel the blows, but I allow them, letting him hit me 
with all his strength.  Finally, exhausted and spent, 
he melts back to the mattress, still crying.  Both 
David and I work to console him.
	"Why?  Why??" he keeps murmuring over and over.
	"Because we love you," David answers.
	"No..."
	"Yes."
	"Wanted to die."
	"We know.  But we didn't want you to die.  We 
want you to live."
	"Why?  Why?" 
	He closes his eyes, his tears staining his 
cheeks.  I move to wipe them away, but his flinches 
under my touch and winces in pain.
	"Louis, you need to feed.  You were burned," 
David says softly.
	"No, don't want to."
	"Yes, you do.  Come on, let me take you 
hunting," he offers.
	"No..."
	"Yes, come on.  It will help heal you," he 
insists, tugging Louis into a seated position.
	Louis refuses to meet my gaze.
	"Come on, Louis.  Please.  Unless, of course you 
want some of my blood..." he suggests.
	"No!"
	"All right then, let's go out."
	Louis can see that his brother is not going to 
take no for an answer and relents.
	"All right."
	"And when you get back, we'll talk," I add.
	Louis gives me a frightened glance, then looks 
at David.
	"It's all right.  No more fights.  I promise," 
he assures on my behalf.
	Reluctantly, Louis rises to his feet and David 
walks him out, handling him gently, easily.  I watch 
them, my heart heavy, then get out of bed myself.  I 
go into Louis' room and make a mental catalog of all 
the damaged things, gathering up the destroyed books 
and broken furniture.  
	When I have committed to memory all the items 
that need replaced, I go out to hunt.  Then I go 
shopping, finding a new bedroom suite almost exactly 
like the one I smashed, and arranging for it to be 
delivered tonight.  It's amazing what you can 
accomplish with ungodly sums of money at your 
disposal.  I replace the burned, shredded books, even 
finding a leather bound copy of the unabridged 
Phantom, and the charred bedclothes, having all of my 
purchases delivered so I won't have to carry them.  At 
close to ten, I return home.
	Louis and David are sitting in the living room.  
David's gotten him to change his clothes, and he is 
sitting, silent and withdrawn on the sofa.  He looks a 
bit better, his skin flushed with blood.  I give him a 
little smile which he does not return and get ready 
for the furniture store to deliver the new bedroom 
set.  They arrive twenty minutes later, as do the 
books and other purchases I made.  I instruct the 
delivery man to put the books and sheets in the living 
room, and give him a $50 tip as I guide the furniture 
people to the correct room, and dictate the placement 
of each piece.  Louis and David watch all of this 
without comment.  I think they expected me to do this.
	It takes only an hour to fix the room so it 
looks very much like it did before.  The bed is made, 
the books put away, all of Louis' clothes transferred 
from the broken furniture to the new, and the rug 
cleaned.  No one would believe that it was a 
demolished mess not two hours ago.  It assuages my 
guilt a little, but only a little, and I return to the 
living room to face my children.  I look to David, 
silently asking for answers.
	"Did you talk to him about your offer?" I ask.
	"Yes," he replies.
	"It's crazy," Louis intones, his voice flat.
	"No, it's not," David answers with conviction.
	"What would it prove?  That we can delude 
ourselves into thinking we really love each other?"
	"No.  But it might help you to admit that you do 
love each other!" David states.
	Louis closes his eyes and shakes his head.  
"That is an impossibility."
	"But won't you at least give it a try?" I 
implore.
	"No," he snaps peevishly.
	"Why?"
	"Pride," David answers before Louis can.
	"What?" I say, surprised.
	"It's pride.  It's all about pride.  Neither of 
you is willing to let the other see a vulnerable side, 
so you never reach an understanding.  You fight and 
fight, hurting each other and tearing each other apart 
because if it.  This a never ending cycle that is 
perpetuated by the two of you, and the only way it 
will end is when both of you drop your pride, or when 
Louis dies.  Which will it be?"
	His statement stuns us for a moment, then I 
lower my gaze sadly.  
	"I don't want you to die, Louis," I admit.
	"I don't want to die either."
	I move to sit next to him, bravely taking his 
hand.  "Then let's do this.  Let me show you.  I want 
to do it all again, start over with you.  There are so 
many things I would do differently, Louis."
	"You can't honestly believe that it will change 
anything, Lestat."
	I look down at my hands and his.  "It can if we 
want it to.  We could start over.  It would work if we 
believed it."
	"You're deluding yourself," he says defensively, 
pulling his hand from mine.  "Nothing can change what 
we've done to each other.  Nothing can take away that 
pain."
	"But Louis, I have seen this technique done 
before with a lot of success," David informs.  
"Granted, I have never done it myself, but I know it 
has helped others.  Won't you at least consider it as 
an option?"
	He sighs deeply.  "Very well.  I will _consider_ 
it, but I do not promise that I will decide to do it."
	"It will take a great deal of trust on your 
part, Louis and I know that will be very hard for you.  
You and Lestat have never really trusted each other.  
That is also part of the problem," David adds.
	Louis looks guiltily at me.  "Yes, that is 
true."
	"Well, think about it, Louis and let me know 
when you've decided," he continues.
	Louis rises.  "I will.  And now I'm going to go 
see my room.  Please excuse me."
	David and I watch him go.
	"How is he?" I ask.
	David shrugs.  "As best as can be expected.  He 
fluctuates, but I think he is okay."
	"Will he try again?"
	"No."
	I sigh with relief then stand.
	"He probably wants to be left alone," David 
warns.
	"I know.  I just want to see what he is doing."
	I go to the doorway of his room and peer in.  He 
is standing by the bookcase, holding the copy of 
Phantom I bought.  He looks up as I settle my shoulder 
against the door frame.
	"Where did you find this?"
	I shrug.  "A bookstore downtown."
	He caresses the leather cover.  "It's better 
than the one you... the one I lost."
	I frown even though he caught himself.  "I 
know."
	"Thank you."
	I nod.  "It's nothing," I say absently, waving 
my hand at the room.  
	He nods and looks away, putting the book back on 
the shelf.
	"I'm sorry, Louis," I whisper softly.
	"You're always sorry," he sighs sadly, then puts 
a hand to his forehead.  "No, I don't want to talk 
about it, Lestat."
	"All right," I agree, but I don't move from my 
place in the doorway.
	I stand there a few moments longer before Louis 
turns to me, his face tired and sad.
	"Lestat, I really just want to be alone for a 
while."
	I give him a soft look, then approach him slowly 
and plant a gentle kiss on his temple.
	"All right, Beautiful One.  I'll see you 
tomorrow night."
	With that I leave him and go to my room.  I 
retire early to my bed, lying on the soft mattress.  
The sheets still smell of Louis, such a sweet perfume, 
and I start to cry again.  I want to fix it.  I don't 
want to fight anymore.  How can I convince him to go 
through with hypnosis?  How can I make him understand?  
What if he still says no?  Please Louis.  Please give 
me that second chance.
	I am dreaming.  I am flying towards St. Louis 
Cemetery and it's almost dawn.  I have to find Louis.  
It's the same scene as before, but this time I am too 
late.  I see Louis lying there, facing the sun.  The 
rays hit his face, his hands.  I scream.
	"Louis!!  Louis!!!"
	His eyes open and he stands slowly, turning to 
me, his hand outstretched, his mouth open, and then he 
bursts into flames.
	"Louis!  Nooooooooo!!!"
	His skin begins to char, turning black and I can 
smell the stench of burning flesh.  I move to run to 
him, to quench out the flames.  Hands grab me from 
behind.
	"It's dawn!  You can't save him!" David's voice 
cries.
	"NO!!  NO!!  LOUIS!!!!!" I scream, mad with 
grief.
	The body explodes, the ash rising upwards.
	"LOUIS!!!"
	I wake up screaming, panting, sweating 
profusely.  I literally rip the lid off my coffin and 
go tearing down the attic stairs to Louis' bedroom.  
The door is locked so I tear it off the hinges in 
order to gain access to the room.  Tears are streaming 
down my face as I rip up the floor to reveal my 
beloved fledgling.  He is still in the death-sleep, 
his face peaceful and serene, and he seems none the 
worse for wear from his escapades last morning.
	I start to laugh, giddy, light-headed with 
relief, and I get the overwhelming urge to hold him in 
my arms.  I reach into the alcove and lift him up.
	"Lestat?" David asks from behind me.
	"Yes, David?" I answer, placing Louis tenderly 
on his bed and crawling beside him.
	"Are you all right?"
	"I'm fine David," I lie, but I know he sees me 
trembling.
	"What are you doing with Louis?  You know he 
will be angry that you moved him while he was 
sleeping."
	"He'll be fine, David."  Go away.  I need to be 
alone with him.  Can't you see that?
	I hear him shuffle his feet.
	"All right.  I'm going out.  I need to hunt.  
I'll be back shortly.  If you need me..."
	"I'll come find you," I finish for him, somewhat 
impatiently.
	He says nothing more and I hear him leave, his 
feet walking down the hall and down the stairs.  I 
turn my attention back to Louis.  The only evidence of 
his close call is a streak of reddened flesh across 
his forehead, and I kiss the scalded skin gently.  I 
feel him begin to wake, that slow rising to 
consciousness as the sun sinks to just the right level 
under the horizon.  His brows crease, his full lips 
move, and finally, his green eyes open.  
	At first, he doesn't realize what has happened 
and he reacts predictably.  He snarls and tries to get 
away from me, frightened and in self-preservation 
mode.  I still him and give him a kiss.
	"Shhh, Louis.  It's just me," I soothe.
	He calms at the sound of my voice and his eyes 
focus on me.
	"Lestat?"
	"Yes, cher."
	He is at once relieved and incensed.  His face 
showing joy and then disapproval.
	"What is the meaning of this?  Why have you done 
this to me?"
	I try to calm him, stroking his hair, but he'll 
have none of it.
	"I demand that you explain yourself for invading 
my privacy."
	Of course, my usual response to such a statement 
would be that I made him and therefore I can do 
whatever I damn well please to him, but somehow I 
doubt that will go over well.  I caress his cheek 
tenderly.
	"I had a nightmare.  A nightmare where you were 
successful in killing yourself.  It frightened me 
badly and I had to see you right away," I say 
truthfully, stroking his chest.  "I had to make sure 
you were all right."
	He is still scowling but his face does soften 
somewhat.  "Well, as you can see, I'm fine.  You and 
David plucked me from the maw of death so we can 
continue this endless dance.  Which shall we do 
tonight, Lestat?  The Lover's Waltz or the Masochism 
Tango?"
	I sigh, hanging my head.  "We can't go on this 
way, Louis.  I don't want it to go on, and neither do 
you."
	His face falls and he shakes his head.  "No.  
No, I don't."
	"Then let's take David up on his offer, and go 
through the hypnosis.  Let me show you how it could 
have been.  Please?"
	"What will that change?"
	"It will give you the chance to see how I would 
do it now, and give us the opportunity to start 
healing all the wounds we inflicted on each other," I 
explain.  "Please Louis."
	He sighs and gives in.  "All right, Lestat.  
I'll go through this little experiment with you, but 
only because it means so much to you.  And don't 
expect miracles."
	I smile.  "No, no miracles.  Only truth."
	I touch his face again, it seems I can't stop 
touching him, and he allows it.  He lets me get as far 
as nuzzling him with my lips before he gently pushes 
me away.
	"I'm hungry, Lestat.  I want to feed before we 
go through with this."
	"Of course, Beautiful One," I answer pleasantly, 
rolling aside so he feels free to sit up.  "Why don't 
you go out to hunt and I will go out as well, and say 
that we will meet David back here in an hour.  Is that 
all right with you?"
	"Yes.  It's fine, Lestat."
	He rises, and I watch him look about himself and 
fix his clothes.
	"I'll see you later," he says stiffly.
	"I'll be waiting."
	He nods and walks out, and I rise to go out 
myself.  I meet David in the hall.
	"Did he tell you?" I ask.
	"Yes.  I'll have to make a few preparations but 
I should be ready by the time you are back."
	"Very well," I note and move past him, heading 
for the door.
	It's humid tonight, as it is so many nights 
here, but tonight it seems particularly oppressive.  I 
think perhaps I am letting my apprehension about what 
we are going to do get the better of me.  I hunt then 
return to the flat, mentally preparing myself for the 
ordeal ahead.  
	Louis isn't back yet and David is making ready 
in the living room.  He's lit candles and burned some 
pleasant smelling incense.
	"I don't know if this will work, Lestat, but I'm 
going to give it my best go," he tells me.
	"What do you mean?"
	"I don't know if I can hypnotize either of you.  
I've never tried it on a vampire before.  It might not 
work.  As it is, I can't use the standard hypnosis, 
but a variant that involves a spell."
	"Why is that?"
	"Because of the maker/fledgling barrier.  I can 
link to Louis, but not with you, and you and Louis 
can't link.  I need to create an artificial link.  I'm 
hoping it works," he explains, sitting yoga style on 
the floor.
	"Do you need me to do anything?"
	"No.  But I would suggest you review the night 
in question and try to decide what you are going to 
do."
	Wise words and I nod.  Going up to my vault in 
the eaves, I open a tiny trap door in one of the metal 
walls and pull out some of my most precious 
possessions from a fireproof box.  They're mostly 
personal keepsakes, photographs, my diary, locks of 
hair from Louis, Gabrielle and a few others... all the 
sentimental nonsense that I never show to anyone.  At 
the very bottom of the box lies what I seek: a worn 
copy of Interview With the Vampire.  Not the first one 
I ever saw, that one I tore to shreds, no, one I 
bought later and have kept with me all these years.  
The pages are yellowed and scored with underlining and 
notes in my own handwriting.  I feel the keen pain 
like I always do when I hold this tattered tome, and I 
sit in the corner of my vault and open the old pages 
to read.  I am only concerned with his making, those 
first couple of nights from when I first came to him, 
to when he made his first kill.  Would that I could do 
the entire lifetime over again, but the first nights 
will do.
	I commit to memory every word, every expressed 
desire, and even every condemnation Louis breathed 
onto those pages, losing myself once again to the 
dark, candlelit nights of the late 18th century.  I 
see Louis in my mind: mortal, tragic, beautiful, and I 
shiver, clutching the book, reading and re-reading the 
passages over and over, until I am almost speaking 
them aloud.
	I don't hear the knock until possibly the third 
or fourth try, and I come out of my memories abruptly.
	"Yes?" I say, hastily shoving all my mementos 
back in their box.
	The door swings open and Louis appears in the 
doorway.
	"David says he's ready.  Are you?"
	I stand, brushing off my trousers nervously.  
"Yes."
	"Are you all right, Lestat?" he questions, his 
eyes narrowing slightly.
	I smile.  "I'm fine Louis.  Just fine."
	He regards me calmly and I can tell he doesn't 
believe me, but is too polite to press the issue.  I 
stand before him, smiling.
	"Ready?"
	He makes an almost imperceptible nod, then turns 
and heads down the stairs.
	We join David in the living room and he motions 
us to sit next to each other on the couch.
	"Now the key to this will be the joining spell 
and then a spell of regression.  The first will allow 
you and Louis to share the vision.  It is very much 
like dream stating.  Both of you will be somewhat out 
of body for this."
	"Out of body?" Louis repeats, slightly 
concerned.
	"Yes, Louis.  It's all right.  Vampires go out 
of body very easily.  There's nothing to be concerned 
about," David assures.  "It's the only way I can join 
the three of us."
	Louis looks very skeptical and for a moment, I 
think he is going to call this whole thing off.  Then 
he looks at me, and I see his face turn serious and 
resigned.
	"All right.  As long as you say it is safe, 
David."
	"It's safe, Louis," he assures as he places a 
large red candle with an odd smell on the center 
cocktail table and, lighting it, sits on the loveseat 
opposite us. The candle burns orange and blue and soon 
fills the room with a pungent, almost sweet scent.  I 
can't place it though, the smell is foreign.
	"Now, I want you both to concentrate on the 
flame.  Watch the flame," he instructs and we focus on 
the candle, staring at it.
	David begins to chant very softly, his voice 
rising up and down.  I hear him, but my eyes are on 
the flame.  He continues to chant, his hands moving 
with his words, rhythmic, and hypnotic.  It seems like 
the rest of the world falls away and nothing exists 
but the flame and David's voice.  I feel a pull and a 
weightlessness, but it frightens me and I fight it.  I 
ground myself to my body, blinking, and try to clear 
my head.  I glance over at Louis and am surprised to 
see him sitting motionless, his eyes wide and blank.
	"He is already gone," I hear David say softly to 
me, never breaking his chanting voice.  "Look back at 
the candle, don't break your concentration, don't 
fight it, give yourself over to the spell."
	I obey, looking back at the candle and try to 
allow this spell to take affect, and it seems that 
world gets slower and slower.  The candle flickers in 
my vision and David's chanting becomes louder, and yet 
more far away.  A strange calm settles over me and I 
relax completely, letting his voice and the dancing 
light spread over my mind.  Then the flame begins to 
grow, getting brighter and brighter until it 
encompasses all of my vision.  I keep staring at it, 
feeling the tears on my eyes, and the sting of the 
bright light, but then the light starts to fade and I 
feel weightless, rising up and drifting into 
blackness.
	When my vision clears, I am standing on a 
flagstone walkway alongside a dirt street.  Gas lamps 
light the way and I can hear horses and carriages 
moving nearby.  I look around, trying to get my 
bearings and my pulse quickens as I realize that I am 
standing just outside the townhouse Louis resides in 
with his family: the townhouse just a few feet from 
where I attacked him.  My eyes trace over the familiar 
building and fall upon the French doors.  Then David 
comes into my view, watching me, waiting.	
	"He is waiting for you, your Louis," he says.  
"Inside.  He is weak and feverish from the 
bloodletting.  His family thinks he is mad."
	I nod, remembering.  Yes, this is how it was.
	"He remembers nothing of the future.  For him it 
is 1791 and he is seeing you for the first time.  He 
will, however, remember everything you do from this 
point forward.  You, on the other hand, I have made it 
such that you remember everything that happened 
between you.  How can you correct mistakes if you 
don't remember making them, yes?"
	"Yes," I agree, distracted, not taking my eyes 
off the house.
	"When this is played out, say the word 
Talamasca, and the hypnosis will be broken."
	"I understand."
	"All right then, I'll leave you.  I'll be 
listening in, watching over things, but you won't see 
me."
	"All right," I answer, frustrated and eager to 
get on with this.  
	My Louis, my mortal Louis is sick in that house 
and I ache to see him.  I hadn't meant to hurt him!  I 
only wished to talk to him, but he was drunk and so 
beautiful!  I had to have him, I had just lost all 
resolve.  For a moment I wish David had taken us even 
further back, to before I fed on Louis the first time.  
I look around for him, but he is already gone.  I set 
my jaw and make the short leap up to the balcony.
	Oh, the memory is so keen now.  There is his 
sister, asleep in the chair beside the bed, and there 
is the prone figure, breathing shallowly, his heart 
beating fast on the mattress.  My heart catches in my 
throat.  I don't know if I can do this!  But even now, 
I see that he has seen me, his mortal eyes struggling 
to identify me in the darkness.
	"Who are you and what are you doing in my 
house?" he demands.  
	Oh!  His mortal voice!!  Thick and heavy!  I 
tremble.
	"Shhhh.  Do not be alarmed," I cajole, stepping 
closer, dimming the lamps.
	I drape a shawl over the sister's face.  She 
will sleep until morning.
	"I am not mad and I will not be reasoned with," 
he insists as I come to the bed.
	He thinks I am a doctor, oh how wonderful to 
hear his thoughts again.  I think I may weep... but 
there is no time for that.  I pull aside the mosquito 
netting and let him see me.   His eyes study me in 
quiet astonishment.  Yes, take a good look.  You know 
what I am already, don't you?  And you've been waiting 
for me, waiting for me your whole life.
	"Who are you?" he asks, stunned.
	And now here comes the first thing I do 
differently.  I smile and sit upon the edge of the 
bed, letting the back of my hand caress his cheek.  He 
is so hot!  His skin is soft and moist with sweat, and 
the smell of him.  Mon dieu!  Remember that there were 
no deodorants at this time.  People went weeks without 
bathing, clothes were washed only after several 
wearings, and perfume and make-up were placed layer 
upon layer over each other.  A modern human would find 
the very whiff of him noxious to the point of nausea, 
but I drink it in like his blood.  It fills my 
nostrils, infusing into every cell of my brain.  This 
is Louis, my Louis, my beautiful Louis.
	"Don't be afraid.  I'm not here to hurt you," I 
say, trying to make my voice tender.
	"What do you want?" he demands.
	He does not recognize me, he does not remember 
what happened to him; that I was the one who caused 
all this.  He thinks he had a stroke.  I let my hand 
slide down his neck to rest upon his chest.  I feel 
the pounding of his heart beneath my fingers.
	"To speak with you," I answer softly.
	"About what?" he questions, his voice breaking 
as he continues to stare at me.  
	Yes, he did that.  I remember now.  He stared at 
me the whole time, I think he was afraid to blink.  I 
let my thumb absently caress his skin through the open 
collar of his night-shirt.
	"About what happened to you last night."
	He laughs bitterly.  "I had a stroke, but I 
lived.  I wish I hadn't."
	"Life has no meaning anymore, does it?" I 
murmur, still rubbing my thumb in tiny circles on his 
chest.  "The wine has no taste.  Food sickens you..."
	I go on to repeat all of Mr. Cruise's soliloquy 
from that blasted movie.  Well, at least it was good 
for something.  But I don't lift him out of the bed 
and take him anywhere like Mr. Cruise did with poor 
Brad.  I continue to touch him gently, my own 
restraint surprising even myself.  I want so badly to 
do this right!
	His eyes light up when I speak the last words, 
"But what if I could give it back to you?  Pluck out 
the pain and give you another life?  One you could 
never imagine."
	His hand reaches for the collar of my brocade 
vest, griping it and seeking to pull me closer.
	"Are you an angel?  Are you the angel of death?  
Have you come for me, to take me to hell for killing 
Paul?"
	Ah, his brother.  I knew all about that.  I 
learned it when I drank from him the first time.
	"You didn't kill Paul, cher.  Paul killed 
himself," I comfort.
	"How do you know this?" he begs, his bloodshot 
eyes opening wide.
	"I just do.  I saw it all in your mind last 
night.  Everything that happened, cher.  You weren't 
responsible for his death."
	"I refused him.  I turned him away..."
	"And for that he threw himself down the stairs.  
Louis, cher, you aren't to blame."
	"But I am!" he insists, yanking on me and, 
unable to budge me from my seated position, pulls 
himself up.  "I am damned, I tell you!  Damned!  I 
attacked a priest!  I nearly killed him!  I'm going to 
Hell.  You've come to take me to Hell, haven't you?"
	I wrap my arms around his sweaty, burning body 
and hold him close, rocking him.
	"Hush, cher.  I have come to take you, but not 
to Hell, and we will go only of you are willing.  The 
choice will be yours whether or not you accept my 
offer."
	He stiffens.  "What do you mean?"
	I grasp his shoulders and push him far away 
enough for me to look at his face.  Then I slowly pull 
back my lips to let him see my fangs.  He shudders.
	"What are you?" he breathes, his voice tinged 
with both fear and wonder.
	"Vampire, my darling.  And I've come for you."
	He blinks.  "To kill me?"
	"No.  If I had meant to kill you, I would have 
done so last night."
	"Last night?" he repeats, then comprehension 
enters his eyes.  "You!  You did this to me?"
	"Yes, cher.  I followed you from the tavern.  I 
meant to talk with you, but..."  I smile sheepishly.  
"I fear I got somewhat carried away."
	"Why didn't you kill me?" he questions, almost 
disappointed.
	I caress his cheek, his lower lip, and finally 
his neck with my finger.  The vein throbs out, teasing 
me.  I shiver, feeling my blood lust rise.
	"Because I don't want you dead..." I manage, 
feeling myself begin to break out in a blood sweat.
	His smell, his feel, his mortal warmth, it's 
intoxicating me.  I'm getting lightheaded.  It 
happened this way before and I got angry with myself.  
It made me short-tempered and brusque with him.  I 
won't be that way this time.  I can turn it around.
	I ignore his next inquiry and bend my lips to 
his flesh.  I trail kisses along his throat up to his 
chin and down to the hollow of his neck.  He freezes 
up, panting, and throws his head back when I move up 
again, offering himself to my seduction.  He is so 
sensual!  I look at him, his eyes closed, his face 
damp with sweat, and nearly lose control.  I pry my 
thumbs into the softness of his lower lip, pulling 
open his succulent mouth and kiss him deeply.  He lets 
out a mew of surprise and arches up, his hands digging 
into my clothes.  
	Oh, this is sheer ecstasy and madness!  His 
mouth is burning hot and full of moist sweetness.  I 
never kissed him when he was mortal.  Oh what a 
delicious surprise!  I draw out the kiss until I am 
shaking with restraint, then pull back suddenly, 
gasping for breath.  I keep his face in my hands, my 
palms stroking back his gorgeous black hair, and try 
to regain some semblance of sanity.
	"I don't want you dead," I gasp, breathless.  "I 
want you with me.  I want you to be my companion in 
this life I lead."
	And then I speak to him, the way I spoke to him 
all those years ago, when I did this for the first 
time.  I tell him all the same things, I use the same 
words, the same analogies, and once again, just as he 
did before, I see him let go of his past and mortal 
comforts and see the world in all its possibilities.  
He surrenders to me now as easily as he did then, but 
this time there is an added dimension to his 
surrender, for I have made it clear, the way I did not 
back then, that I want him as my consort, not my 
slave.
	"What say you?" I ask finally.  "Will you come, 
or no?"
	His eyes are unfocused and glazed, beads of 
sweat cling to his upper lip.  I see his mouth open 
slightly, his tongue flicking out to lick the salt 
from his skin.
	"Yes, I will come.  Take me with you now."
	I place a gentle finger upon those beautiful 
lips.  "Ah no, mon cher.  Not tonight.  Tomorrow 
night.  Have your last day in the sunshine, and when 
the night falls, I will come for you," I assure, then 
continue, "In the meantime, I must return to New 
Orleans and see to my father.  I have need to find him 
a better place to live.  He is blind and needs care, 
and there is the added complexity that he does not 
know I am a vampire and must never find out.  I have 
not been in New Orleans very long, and have not had 
the opportunity to secure him better housing."
	"My plantation, Pointe du Lac!" he offers 
suddenly.  "He can live there.  It is a grand house 
and the slaves there will tend to him."
	I have to smile.  He is a true Southern 
gentleman, all manners and graciousness.
	"I thank you for your generous offer, cher.  We 
will take him there when I come tomorrow night."
	He seems genuinely pleased that I accepted his 
offer, and happy that he could be of service to me.
	"When can I expect you?" he asks eagerly.
	"After dark, mon cher.  After I have risen and 
fed."
	He nods, then an unspoken fear enters his eyes 
and he grips my vest again.  "You won't forget me, 
will you?" he questions, almost pleading.
	I take his hands in mine and squeeze them.  "How 
could I forget you?  No cher, I will not forget you.  
I will come for you tomorrow night.  I give you my 
word."
	A Southern gentleman's word is his bond, and it 
means something more than it does in the modern age.  
A man is expected to keep his word.  There are no 
empty promises here.  My giving him my word comforts 
him and his desperate grip upon my vest relaxes.
	"I will be waiting for you," he says softly, 
letting his hands fall to his lap.
	He is so beautiful, his eyes full of hopeful 
longing, that I almost lose control and bring him to 
me right there, but I fight it back.  I will not rob 
him of his last sunrise; I know how much it meant to 
him from his book, and I would not take that from him.  
Still, I cannot resist one long, lingering kiss before 
I quickly take my leave.
	I find myself heading back up the dirt road to 
the ramparts with a breathless anticipation.  If my 
Louis is mortal once again in this replayed sequence, 
then my father is also still alive.  I come to the 
little house on the Rue Dumaine and stand outside it 
for a long time.  The old pain hits me sharply, 
constricting around my heart, and I want to end this 
all right now, but I remember how much Louis wants 
this and how much he is risking in trusting me to do 
this.  I can't let him down.
	Through the broken shutters, I catch a glimpse 
of my father sitting up in bed, his sightless eyes 
staring at nothing as a servant brings him broth and 
bread.
	"Where is my son?  Has anyone seen my son?" he 
asks in his thin voice.  That voice!  A ghost from my 
past.  I tremble there in the street.
	I hear the servant say that no one has seen me 
all evening and my father's countenance falls.  He 
lets out a disappointed whine and picks at his food 
absently as the servant leaves.  I stare in from the 
shutters, my heart in turmoil.  It would seem that 
making Louis is not the only thing I will have a 
second chance at, and for a moment I cannot breathe, 
then I soundlessly open the tall window and enter.
	"Hello, Father."
	The sun rises and sets in our little 
reenactment, and I find myself once again sleeping in 
my old coffin and rising to meet 18th century New 
Orleans.  I hunt immediately, dispatching a brigand in 
a back alley, then head swiftly to Louis.  He is 
waiting for me, my beauty, and he's dressed himself 
for my enjoyment- a beautiful silk ascot, velvet vest 
and black riding jacket.  His cheeks are still flushed 
with fever but he's bathed.  Tonight he smells of soap 
and fresh herbs.  I feel honored.
	I greet him and kiss him sweetly.  He cleaves to 
me, tangling his long fingers in my clothes, and 
leaving me breathless with his passion.
	"Mon dieu!  But you are impatient.  Would you 
rush this, mon cher?" I tease.
	He blushes, oh how darling! and smiles 
sheepishly.  "Forgive me.  I'm being too forward, 
aren't I."
	I grin.  "Oh no, my darling, not at all, but we 
must go.  There is much we need to do before this 
night is over."
	"Yes, your father.  I have had a carriage made 
ready, but without a driver.  I thought it best if we 
were to handle this ourselves."
	I kiss him again.  He is still so practical.  
"Of course, you are very right."
	He smiles, happy that I am pleased, and we go at 
once to collect my father and take him to Pointe du 
Lac.  Once there, we settle him into the master 
bedroom- a place many times more opulent that any room 
he has ever lived in, and we watch as he acquaints 
himself with his new surroundings, discovering the 
placement of the furniture, the soft blankets on the 
bed, the comfortable chair, as Louis explains that 
this is now his home.  My father seems confused, then 
overcome, babbling about how he does not deserve such 
comforts when he failed to provide them for his 
family.  Looking at him now, I see him more kindly 
than I did before, and I regret being so hateful and 
angry with him.  He, like Louis, is only the sum of 
his faults.  He would never have been able to 
understand me, I was far too different from his other 
sons.
	Louis brings me out of my thoughts by standing 
very close to me.  I turn to him and find him looking 
at me expectantly.  His beautiful green eyes meet mine 
with a hopeful, happy expression.  I smile at him, 
taking in his mortal beauty, and cup his chin in my 
hand.
	"Shall we go?" I ask.
	"Yes," he answers eagerly.
	I take his hand, which he grips tightly, and 
lead him from the room.  I see him pause at the top of 
those fateful steps and stroke his cheek tenderly.
	"Paul can't haunt you now," I whisper.
	His face cracks in heartbroken grief, and he 
suddenly wraps his arms around me, pressing his face 
to my shoulder.  I hold him, rocking him gently.
	"Make my pain go away.  Give me that new life 
you promised me," he murmurs against my jacket.
	I kiss his temple, then take him by the 
shoulders and make him look at me.
	"I will, but first I want you to see me feed.  I 
want you to understand exactly what it is you are 
choosing.  I do not want you to come back to me later 
and say I never showed you."
	He nods.  "That is acceptable."
	"Come outside with me," I say, leading him down 
the stairs.
	He follows willingly and I take him out to the 
lawn, putting my arm loosely around his shoulders as 
we walk.
	"You must understand that as a vampire, you will 
have to drink blood to survive.  As a young vampire, 
you will have a greater need for blood than an older 
one, and you will have to feed every night for a very 
long time," I explain.
	"I understand this," he assures.
	I give him a measuring look then continue. "Each 
vampire deals with this in his own way.  It is a very 
personal thing.  Some enjoy the semblance of a 
struggle and violence, while others prefer the 
seduction.  Some assuage their guilt by killing only 
evil doers.  The ways are as many and as varied as 
each vampire.  As a vampire, you will have to discover 
what is best for you."
	He takes in my lecture, digesting it, then asks, 
"And what is your way?"
	I sigh.  "My way varies.  I try to kill only 
evil doers, but I do not always succeed, as you have 
no doubt discovered.  I am first and foremost a 
creature of strong impulse and whim.  You will find 
that as a vampire the line between reason and emotions 
will be very thin, and often they are the same thing."
	He regards me calmly.  "And was it impulse and 
whim which led you to feed on me?"
	I cannot determine if he is angry.  His words 
suggest that he might be angry, but I get no anger 
from him.
	"No, mon cher.  It was not impulse, although I 
do admit that I got carried away.  I followed you to 
talk to you."
	"Why?"
	"I told you, because I wanted you, because I 
wished you to be my companion."
	"Why me?  Why not someone else?"
	Ahhh, now I understand, he wants to know why I 
chose him.  He is testing my sincerity.  Oh 
wonderfully sweet.  I am just beginning to see all the 
little loveliness I missed by rushing him the first 
time.  I smile and rub my fingers along his cheek.
	"Because you touch the tenderness in me the way 
no one else ever has.  Because you are staggeringly 
beautiful, and stun me with your charm and 
graciousness.  Because you are reason to my rashness, 
and water to my flame.  And because..."  Okay, out 
with it.  Come on, Lestat, you can do this.  Do it for 
Louis.  "Because I love you."
	His eyes widen a little and his face grows 
serious.  "How can you love me?  You don't even know 
me."
	"Oh but I do, mon cher," I correct, running my 
finger along the vein in his neck.  "I've fed from 
you.  I've delved into the deepest part of your soul, 
for that is the nature of the bite, you see.  It 
connects vampire and victim completely together, soul 
to soul.  I know you more intimately than anyone you 
have ever been with, more intimately than a lover, or 
even your own mother.  And that is why I say I love 
you.  I have been to the very core of you and seen 
what is there.  My darling, you are beautiful beyond 
words."
	He looks away, embarrassed by my confession.  It 
is so strange, he will accept any physical 
demonstration of affection, but he shuns verbal 
declarations of the same.  Ah, my Louis, my eternal 
paradox.
	"Are you all right, Louis?" I ask when he is too 
quiet for too long.  "Ach, perhaps I am being too 
forward now, n'est pas?"
	That gets a tiny smile out of him.  "No, you're 
not.  It's just that no one has ever said such things 
to me.  I don't know how to take them."
	I kiss him on the cheek.  "Take them as 
testaments to the truth."
	"You would lie to me?" he questions suddenly, 
surprised.
	I decide to be honest.  "If it suited me, yes.  
But I do not feel like being untruthful with you, 
Louis.  This is far too important."  I take his hand 
again.  "Come with me now.  I am going to kill your 
overseer."
	"My overseer?" he blurts, shocked, stopping dead 
in his tracks.
	I turn back to him and seek to soothe him.  "He 
is an evil man, you know this, Louis.  You have 
suspected this for a long time.  He mercilessly beats 
the slaves, he cheats you of your profits and abuses 
your generosity."
	I see my words hit home and he nods slightly.  
"I have not trusted him for quite a while.  I did not 
think him an honest man."
	"And you are right, Louis.  You should have 
trusted your instincts."
	"You won't hurt him, will you?" he asks, 
wringing his hands in angst.
	For a moment I feel my temper flare.  I just 
said I was going to kill the man!  I almost scowl, but 
I beat it back.  I will not lose my temper.  I will 
not lose my temper.  My mantra.  I repeat it to myself 
over and over, count to a thousand, and feel the anger 
fade.  I win.
	I open my eyes and look at Louis who is staring 
at me quizzically.  I force a smile.
	"No, mon cher, I will kill him gently.  I could 
show you a savage kill, but I do not think you will 
find that to your tastes.  I suspect that you will 
prefer the swift, merciful death."
	"Good... I could not stand to see him suffer.  
Do some vampires hurt their victims?"
	What a strange question!  But I think I know 
what he means.  "Some do, yes.  Though I have never 
heard of any of us torturing a victim.  Playing with 
our prey like a cat does with a mouse, yes, but true 
torture, no.  That would be a waste of time and blood.  
But come, the night goes on."
	I usher him towards the overseer's house, and he 
offers no more objections.  We enter the small 
building silently.  I think I amaze Louis with my 
stealth as we come to the bedroom where the overseer 
sleeps.  I remember how I did this the first time.  I 
leaped on the bed and bit him, he woke and fought me.  
It was a messy death and I made Louis watch for a full 
hour before the man died.  I vow that it will be 
quiet, peaceful and swift this time, more for Louis' 
benefit than the overseer's.
	I motion for Louis to stay where he is as I 
approach the bed and settle upon it.  Kneeling, I look 
down at my prey and gently caress the man's chest.  He 
moans in his sleep, thinking I am his wife who resides 
in New Orleans.  I nuzzle him gently, letting him 
dream his erotic dreams and supplementing them with my 
own images of sensual passion.  Then I kiss his chin 
and his neck, and carefully slip my fangs into him.  
The man does not even notice my lips upon his throat 
as his amorous fantasies continue.  He climaxes and 
dies peacefully without ever having woken up.  It is 
as pleasant a death as any of my victims have ever 
had.
	I lift my mouth from the dead man's flesh and 
lick my lips.  Louis is watching me curiously, his 
head cocked.
	"Is he dead?"
	I nod.  "Yes, mon cher.  He is dead.  We must 
now dispose of the body and make it look like he was 
robbed.  You must always cover up your kill in some 
way, and never leave evidence behind.  To draw 
attention to us, is to bring the mortal hunters.  Do 
you understand?"
	"Yes," he answers, but his voice is strained.
	"Good.  Go fetch the carriage.  We will take him 
to the road and leave him there.  I will slit his 
throat.  If his body is found, there will be no 
questions as to the lack of blood."
	It is a diversion from what we did before.  
Before I had him help me carry, and then beat up, the 
body with me.  I remember his words from the book 
about how he was sick from the death and how beating 
the body both aroused and repulsed him.  I decide to 
change the method of disposal in an attempt to avoid 
the scene that followed.  
	I carry the body out of the house as Louis 
brings up the carriage and we go up the river road to 
the open fields.  He is very quiet, my Louis, and I 
worry about what is going on in his head.  His silence 
piques my temper again, but again, I beat it back with 
my mantra.  I refuse to mess it up this time.
	"Are you all right, mon cher?  You are looking 
very pale.  Do you want me to handle this?  I am sure 
you are capable of covering up the kill on your own.  
You don't need this lesson, and if you do, I can 
always teach you after you've made the change," I 
remark, trying to sound conciliatory.
	He looks at me and his face tells me all.  My 
heart sinks.  
	"Yes!  Yes!" he cries, shoving the reins at me.  
"Take them!  I cannot do this!"
	He is weeping, his flushed skin becoming even 
more reddened.  I halt the carriage and let him off.  
He staggers and falls to his knees by the side of the 
road.
	"Wait here for me.  I'll come back for you and 
take you home," I say gently, trying not to cry 
myself.
	I drive off and take care of my business, but 
Louis is not waiting for me when I return.  I hurry 
the horses back to the plantation and leap from the 
coach to look for him.  I find him sitting at the base 
of the brick steps, grasping at the grass growing 
through the cracks, sobbing.  I fight the urge to 
scream as I quietly go to him and sit upon the stairs; 
he refuses to look at me.
	"You are refusing me then?" I ask softly.  "Do 
you hate me now for loving you?"
	He raises his eyes to me, tears streaming down 
his face.  "Kill me," he begs.  "Kill me, please.  I 
want to die.  I am guilty of murder, I cannot live."
	I bow my head, looking down at my hands, trying 
to decide what to do.  This did not go the way I had 
hoped.  Everything has gone wrong somehow.  I want to 
be angry, to rage, to scream and force him, but that 
would destroy our entire purpose for doing this, and 
if I kill him as he asks, what will it do to us when 
we end this whole scene?  What will Louis think?  
Mortal Louis grabs my knee and I wrench my gaze to 
him, blinking away my tears.
	"All right, my darling," I say, making my 
choice.  I will kill him.  It's what he wants, it's 
what he has always wanted.
	I lift him up the stairs and into my embrace.  I 
kiss him, holding him close, savoring him for the last 
time, then I tip back his head and bring my lips to 
his throat.  He jerks and pummels my chest with his 
fists, struggling, kicking, and I snarl, losing my 
temper.  I cast him away from me, tumbling him off the 
stairs and stand, huffing, enraged.
	"I thought you wanted to die, Louis!  Make up 
your mind!  Come with me or let me end it for you!" I 
seethe.
	He is a crumpled heap on the grass, racking sobs 
tearing at his thin body.  He does not even lift his 
head.  I sigh, calming down, and go to him, gathering 
him into my arms.
	"Shhhh.  Forgive me, I did not mean to lose my 
temper," I whisper, rocking him.
	He clings to me, venting his grief and I hold 
him, stroking his hair.  Time has made me wiser, or so 
I should hope.  If this really were 1791, I would have 
slapped him silly by now, but I know my Louis, and 
anger would do me no good here.  He never did respond 
well to rough handling, and it took me two hundred 
years to learn gentleness.
	Long moments later, when he is spent of tears, 
he quiets and lies still in my arms.  I continue to 
stroke his hair comfortingly and nuzzle him.
	"Better now, mon cher?" I ask tenderly.
	He glances at me, his green eyes swollen from 
his crying.  "No one has ever done this for me.  Just 
held me and let me cry," he murmurs absently, as if 
coming to his own revelation.
	"That is very unfortunate, cher, but not 
unpredictable.  Men aren't supposed to cry and feel 
pain," I comment.
	"You really do love me, don't you?"
	More than you will ever know.  "Yes, cher, I 
do."
	He lifts up and offers his neck to me.  "Take me 
with you."
	I sigh, scenting him, bringing my face very 
close to his.  I feel the tears threaten and push them 
back as I kiss him.  Then I come to realize that he 
has chosen to come with me because he thinks it is 
what I want him to do, and he wants to please me.  I 
cannot accept that.  Gently, I push him away.
	"No.  Not like this.  I want you to come with me 
because it is what _you_ want, not because you think 
it is what _I_ want.  This is too important a decision 
to make," I tell him tenderly.
	I release him and stand.  He looks up at me, 
surprised.
	"What are you saying?" he asks.
	"I am saying that I am going into the house.  I 
want you to stay here and really think about the 
choice you are making.  Don't make it for me, make it 
for _you._  I've tried to show you some aspects of the 
life I lead, but there is so much else I am unable to 
share with you.  I love you and I want you with me, 
but I want you to be with me because you desire it as 
much as I do," I explain.  "I'll be waiting for you in 
my father's room.  You think about this, and when 
you've made your decision, come find me and we will go 
from there."
	I kiss him on the cheek and brush a stray 
tendril of hair back behind his ear, then quietly walk 
up the brick stairs.  As I enter the house, I glance 
back to see Louis still sitting where I left him.  His 
face is a mask of confusion and deep thought.  I sigh 
and go to find my father.
	An hour passes, maybe more.  It is the longest 
wait of my life, and if I were prone to nervous habits 
I would have bitten off all my fingernails.  I begin a 
game of chess with my father to pass the time.  I am 
losing miserably when Louis finally comes into the 
room.
	"Have you made your decision?" I ask, not 
looking at him.
	"Yes," he answers.
	I put my hand over my father's.  "I have to go 
now.  We'll finish this another time.  You'll remember 
who's turn it is, yes?"
	"Yes," he replies.
	"Good," I say and help him to rise so I can put 
him to bed.
	Just then two slaves come in carrying food and 
clean linens.
	"I've instructed them to look after your 
father," Louis tells me in answer to my quizzical 
look.
	"Ah, thank you."
	He nods and I go to him, trying to discern what 
choice he has come to without reading his mind.  We 
look at each other, each waiting for the other to 
speak, until he turns and, wordlessly asking me to 
follow, walks from the room.  I let him lead the way, 
my heart in my throat, and he takes me outside to the 
neglected oratory.  There he stops suddenly and I 
almost bump into him as he turns around and places 
both his hands on my chest.
	"Louis?" I question, and am answered with a 
desperate kiss.  I hear myself moan.
	"I choose you," he says breathlessly.  "I choose 
to be with you.  You are my salvation and my escape.  
Make me what you are."
	I nearly weep with happiness, and I kiss him, 
hugging him.  My relief is immense.  He chose me!  I 
did not have to coerce him or force him.  He chose me 
of his own free will.
	"Oh Louis.  You'll never regret this.  I'm going 
to make you the happiest vampire on Earth."
	He laughs softly and I bring him to sit with me 
on the stone, holding him and pulling him close to my 
chest.  He presses eagerly against me.
	"Now Louis, I want you to be still.  I am going 
to drain you to the point of death.  You must listen 
closely and focus on staying alive.  It is your will, 
your consciousness which must keep you from slipping 
away.  Do you understand?"
	"Yes," he whispers.
	"Then let us begin."
	Slowly, I lower my mouth to his neck and 
carefully bite him.  I hear him gasp and shift against 
me, his heartbeat quickening as I begin to drain him.  
The sweetness of him fills me once again, the 
wonderful taste of him, and I swoon, losing myself in 
him.
	"Listen, keep your eyes wide," I instruct, 
taking him ever closer to the threshold of death.
	He is too weak to move and I feel his sudden 
panic.  I stroke him tenderly to soothe him.
	"Shhh, Louis.  Easy, Louis.  Don't be afraid," I 
cajole, lifting my mouth from his flesh.
	He is helpless in my arms, staring straight 
ahead, his breathing fast and shallow.  Still holding 
him, I bite my own wrist, and, making sure the blood 
is flowing freely, press it to his lips.
	"Drink, Louis," I say gently.
	His eyes close and he begins to suck, drawing 
the blood from me.
	"That's it, Louis, drink deep," I urge, letting 
my head drop to his shoulder.
	He drinks and drinks, draining my veins until I 
am in agony, but I let him, letting the pain suffuse 
though me like I did with David.  Then I moan and take 
my wrist from him.  He lets out a disappointed whine 
and reaches for it, but he quiets as soon as I latch 
onto him and feed from him a second time.  I drain him 
and pull away, cutting into my neck with my 
fingernail.
	"Again," I order, and he obeys, his lips and 
tongue fastening upon the gash, sucking and sucking 
until the pain defines my universe once more.
	We repeat the process two more times, a 
technique I learned from Maharet.  The alternate 
feeding and draining amplifies the effects of the 
blood and hastens the transformation.  When we finally 
part for good, we are panting and he is trembling 
violently. 
	"Easy now, Louis.  You're all right," I assure.
	Just like he did before, he becomes enamored 
with the buttons on my coat and I giggle.  I see his 
reaction to my laughter, how his eyes widen at the 
sound, how his mouth turns into an innocent grin.
	"Stop staring at my buttons," I tease playfully, 
tousling his hair.
	He coughs and I feel his body begin to convulse.  
I urge him to stand.  "You must get up.  Your body is 
purging itself of your bodily fluids.  Go into the 
trees and rid yourself of it there.  And be careful 
not to fall so madly in love with the night that you 
lose your way."
	He nods and rises shakily to his feet.  He 
stares wide-eyed at everything and I have to smile.
	"I'll be in the house," I tell him as he makes 
his way to the old stand of oaks.
	I go inside and fire up the copper boiler, 
thankful that it is still warm from when the slaves 
made supper for my father.  I should have ample hot 
water very soon.  I am preparing for when Louis comes 
back in.  I know he will be frightened and 
uncomfortable from the change.  I ignored and rebuffed 
him the first time, and unwittingly caused him great 
pain.  This time, I will be ready for him.  I place a 
change of clothes and a thick cloth for drying in the 
bathing room next to the large copper tub, and then 
retire to sit in the living room to wait for Louis.
	Sure enough, like clockwork, he comes staggering 
in twenty minutes later, his eyes dilated with fright.
	"Something is happening to me!" he cries.
	"You're dying," I say, going to him.
	"Dying!  Dying!"
	I take him into my arms and hold him close.  
"Hush.  It happens to us all.  Don't be afraid.  It is 
only mortal death; it can't hurt you," I soothe, then 
draw his attention to the changes in his body, like he 
said he wished I had done in his book.  "Here, look at 
your fingernails.  See how they look like glass, and 
come here, look in the mirror," I say lovingly, 
guiding him to the silver glass.  "See your eyes, 
Louis?  Look how bright and green they are.  And your 
hair, look at the colors that flash off it now, even 
in this dim lamp light."
	He gazes in wonder at the image in the mirror, 
momentarily forgetting his pain, and I smile.
	"You are becoming even more beautiful, mon 
cher," I murmur tenderly.
	He looks at my reflection in the mirror, 
suddenly realizing that he _can_ see a refection.  I 
see his brow crease in bewilderment and I take to 
laughing.
	"Did you think the old myths were true, mon 
cher?  The nonsense about mirrors and garlic and 
crucifixes?  I assure you, all of it is pure fantasy."
	"Except the sunlight," he corrects.
	"Yes, except the sunlight.  That, unfortunately, 
is very true."
	I look at his soiled clothing and remember the 
bath I wanted to draw for him.  "Come, darling, you're 
an absolute mess.  Let me run a bath for you."
	He looks down at himself and frowns.  I remember 
how this was for me.  I saw it happening and yet it 
felt as if I was detached from it somehow.  I think 
Louis is experiencing the same thing now.  Then I see 
his nose crinkle with distaste from the smell.
	"Yes, that would be good."
	I put my arm around him and lead him to the 
bathing room.   It has copper pipes that draw directly 
from the boiler in the kitchen, so all I need to do to 
fill the tub is turn the knobs.  Hot water comes 
bubbling out, and Louis sees the clean clothes and 
other preparations I have made.
	"Thank you.  You are being most thoughtful," he 
says.
	"I just remember how it was for me," I remark 
absently, watching the tub fill.
	"Oh?  And was your maker so considerate?"
	I'm shocked by his seemingly innocent question.  
"My maker?" I repeat.
	My consternation must show on my face because he 
stares at me with concern.
	"Lestat?  Have I offended you?"
	"Me?  Oh, oh no, cher.  You haven't offended me.  
Your question just brought up some memories, not all 
of them pleasant."
	He looks down, ashamed.  "I'm sorry."
	I brush my fingers through his lovely hair.  
"Not your fault, cher, but perhaps it is something I 
should discuss with you, because I am sure it will 
affect what type of teacher I am to you," I explain.
	He looks up at me, his head cocked, and I try to 
think of where to begin.
	"I will try to be a good teacher to you, Louis, 
but please understand that I never had one myself.  My 
maker destroyed himself the night he made me, and I 
was left alone."
	Louis gasps.  "Destroyed himself?!  Why?"
	I shrug.  "It was his way.  He made me his heir, 
then went into the fire.  He did not even give me the 
choice.  He stole me from my room, and forced this 
life upon me without my consent.  Now do you 
understand why it was so important to me that you make 
the choice for yourself?"
	He throws himself at me, hugging me, nearly 
knocking me off my feet.
	"Louis?" I question, surprised.
	"Oh how horrible!  I'm so sorry!" he blurts.
	"Sorry for what, cher?"
	"That you were forced.  That was terrible."
	"You couldn't have done anything to stop it."
	He pulls away and gazes into my eyes.  "But I 
would have if I could.  And yes, I do understand why 
it was so important for you that I choose."
	I smile.  "I'm glad."
	The tub is nearly full and I shut off the water.  
It needs to cool down just a bit so I decide to 
continue our conversation.
	"But understand that I because did not have 
anyone to show me the changes or soothe my fears, I 
have no experience being a teacher.  I was all by 
myself through all of it.  I had to learn how to hunt, 
and learn my abilities and the dangers all on my own.  
Thankfully, much of it came naturally for me, more 
natural than I think it will for you, and I did not 
have a very hard time of it.  But you are not me, and 
you may have a more difficult transition.  I will try 
to be patient with you, and try to understand and help 
you as best I can, but I may lose my temper and I may 
not always be able to give you the answers you need," 
I tell him.  "Please be patient with me, this is all 
new to me too, and I get frustrated and angry easily.  
I'll do my best, but I may fall short."
	 He kisses my cheek tenderly.  "You have been 
wonderful so far, and now I am even more glad that I 
did choose to come with you."
	"Why is that, cher?"
	He takes my hand in his.  "Because now we can 
discover all these new things together, you and I, and 
you will regain some of what you lost."
	Will he ever cease to surprise me?  Will he ever 
not humble me with his sensitivity and grace?  I have 
to blink away tears again, and take him back into my 
arms..
	"Thank you, cher.  You are such a treasure to 
me, such a comfort."
	"I hope that I will continue to be so."
	I look at him.  "Oh you will, cher.  I know you 
will.  Come, let me get you out of these clothes so 
you can get into the tub."
	I swiftly unbutton his vest and untie his ascot, 
taking off his billowy shirt.  "I think we can save 
these, but mayhap we should burn the trousers.  We'd 
never be able to explain them to anyone, and would you 
really want to try?  You are a very rich man.  I am 
sure that if you truly wanted a pair of trousers like 
these, you could just buy new ones."
	He looks down at the dirtied pants as I slide 
them off his legs, using the material to wipe off any 
filth on his skin.  Even in this state of 
transformation, he is still magnificent!  I hear him 
chuckle.
	"Mayhap you are right."
	I peel off the silk stockings and toss them 
aside, then I offer him my hand as he steps into the 
tub.  I see the expression on his face change as he 
feels the hot water against his skin.
	"It's different, isn't it, cher," I comment.
	"Yes..." he replies carefully, sitting down in 
the tub.  "I don't remember it feeling anything like 
this before..."
	"That is because it isn't localized anymore.  
You feel everything with your whole body, as if every 
nerve is connected with every other."
	"Yes, that's it exactly."
	"You'll feel everything like that, cher, even 
your emotions.  I think that is why we tend to be so 
emotional, because nothing is detached.  It amplifies 
everything: pleasure, pain, heat, cold, you name it.  
You will feel it all keenly."
	"Amazing."
	I take the soap and begin to wash the lower half 
of his body.  He allows this, watching me with 
interest and taking in all the new sensations.  
	"Will I need to bathe again tomorrow?" he asks.
	"Hmmm, I'm not sure.  It will take a couple of 
days for your body to die and all of your fluids may 
not be expulsed yet, so maybe.  We'll find out 
tomorrow."
	He nods and I finish my task.  He steps out of 
the bath as I drain the tub and waits for me to hand 
him a drying cloth.  I do one better than that and dry 
him myself, taking pleasure in his obvious enjoyment 
of the feel of the material rubbing against his flesh.  
It gives me an idea, and I find myself grabbing the 
change of clothes and guiding him up to a empty 
bedroom.  Once there, he turns to me, questioning and 
lifts his hand to reach for the clothes, but I stop 
him.
	"Lestat?"
	I place a finger upon his supple lips.  "Hush, 
cher.  Not yet.  Lie down on the bed there."
	"The bed?  Why?"
	I give him an impatient look.  "Don't question 
me, I'm trying to teach you."
	He looks at the bed, and back at me, then he 
shrugs and goes to the mattress, settling himself down 
upon it.
	"On your back, cher," I instruct as I place the 
clothes at the foot of the bed.
	He obeys and I rummage through the wardrobes.  
Ah!  This must have been his sister's room or some 
other female's, and she left behind a sizable 
wardrobe.  Perhaps in silent hopes that she would 
return?  I select a silk scarf, a fur stole, two pairs 
of gloves, one lace and one soft leather, a chiffon 
veil, a large feather from a hat, and a satin dressing 
gown.
	"What are you doing?" Louis asks me from the 
bed.
	"Looking for things.  You'll see, cher.  I think 
you are going to enjoy this," I reply, dumping my pile 
of clothes on the bed.
	"What is all that?"
	"Materials for our experiment, cher."
	"Experiment?"
	I climb onto the bed.  "Yes, an experiment in 
your sense of touch."
	I take the silk scarf and lightly brush it 
across his naked skin.
	"Lestat, I...  Oh..." he begins, then halts as 
the sensation of the silk caressing his flesh washes 
through his body.
	He quiets, relaxing against the blankets as I 
trace patterns with the silk along his abdomen and 
chest.
	"You like that, cher?" I coo, smiling at his 
pleasure.  "Shall we try something else?  Velvet 
perhaps?"
	I take the velvet vest I brought up from the 
bathing room and drag it across his shoulders.  He 
shudders, feeling the keen sensation of each soft row 
as it trails over him.
	"Ohhhhh...  Lestat.  So soft..."
	"Oh, yes, velvet is one of my favorites too.  
Let's try the others, shall we?"
	I begin a systematic caressing of his body with 
each of the items I procured from the wardrobe, 
starting with the lace gloves.  They scratch him 
slightly, tickling, and he finds the soft leather ones 
more to his liking.  Ah, a true sensualist just like 
me.  He loves the fur stole and the satin gown, 
moaning softly, his eyes closed, as I drag them over 
him.
	Finally, only the feather is left and I pause in 
my attentions.  His eyes flutter open, wondering why I 
stopped, and he smiles as he sees me holding up the 
feather, twirling it between two fingers.
	"Will this be exquisite pleasure, or exquisite 
torture?" I tease.
	"I think they are one and the same," he 
whispers, his eyes soft and unfocused.
	"Let's find out."
	I take the feather and run the tip from the top 
of his collar bone to his navel.  He gasps, his eyes 
closing again and shivers.  I can tell that his body 
is not completely dead because he is still capable of 
achieving an erection.  Indeed his swollen organ lays 
against his belly even now.  I have been dutifully 
ignoring it, and if Louis notices my obvious neglect, 
he gives no sign of it.  I take the feather across his 
thighs and up and down the backs of his legs as I 
settle next to him on the bed.
	"Which is it?" I ask innocently.  "Pleasure or 
torture."
	"Torture by pleasure," comes his ragged answer 
as the feather makes its way along his sides and 
chest.
	The nipples of his breasts perk, little pink 
nubs sticking up from his pale skin, and I tickle them 
with the feather.  He groans, and I realize that there 
is another sensory experience I can give him.
	I kiss his nipple, licking it and blowing the 
moisture away.  He jolts, letting out a little mew, 
and I suck gently on it as I unbutton my coat and take 
off my shirt.  When they are off, I place myself over 
Louis' body, supporting myself on my hands above him.
	"Lestat.  What..."
	"Shhh.  One more thing I want you to feel, 
cher."
	I lower myself down, starting close to his hips 
and slide my chest along his body until our breasts 
meet.  He stiffens, feeling the sensation of our flesh 
against each other, and arches to me.  The feeling is 
just as incredible for me as it is for him and I am 
dizzy with it.
	"Oh.  Oh, Louis," I manage, pressing our bodies 
together.
	This is too much.  It is too wonderful.  I kiss 
him, losing myself in him, and am rewarded by his 
enthusiastic response.  His arms wrap around me, his 
mouth works eagerly against mine, and he is making 
little sounds of pleasure as he writhes beneath me.  
Oh, why did I never do this before??!!  This is 
glorious!
	We kiss and kiss, feeling each other, groping 
each other, his hands tangled in my hair.  No words 
are needed, no explanations, no lessons, no apologies, 
only Louis and I in love and showing it.  I nearly 
weep for all the years we lost.  Then I hear the clock 
strike five.
	"Damn!" I gasp, yanking back.
	"What?  What is it, Lestat?" he questions, 
frightened by my abrupt behavior.
	"The time, Louis!  The time!  Quick get 
dressed!" I reply, leaping off him and yanking my 
shirt and coat back on.
	He sits up on the bed.  "What about the time?"
	"It's only two hours until dawn and we have to 
get back to New Orleans!  Oh, and Hell!  I've made no 
provision for you!  I'm such a fool!  You'll have to 
bed down with me this morning."
	Actually, I really haven't forgotten.  Sharing a 
coffin with Louis that first morning is something I 
don't want to change.  But perhaps now it will be more 
pleasant for him.
	"Oh..." he says, thinking.
	"Louis!  Get dressed!  I'm going to go say good 
morning to my father.  Meet me at the carriage.  
Move!" I order.
	He seems mildly distressed at my fit of temper, 
but he is there at the carriage when I come down the 
stairs.
	"We have to hurry.  You'll feel the sun much 
earlier than I will," I say breathlessly, grabbing the 
reins and urging the horses into a fast trot.  "You 
must forgive my absentmindedness.  I completely lost 
track of time."
	He is sitting next to me, his hands between his 
knees, looking at me with an almost guarded expression 
on his face.
	"Oh forgive me for being so impatient with you, 
cher.  I know you don't like to be rushed, but really 
we have no time to waste.  The sun will burn you to a 
cinder now.  If I don't get you to decent shelter 
soon, it will definitely do you damage."
	My explanation makes his stern look soften and 
he nods, turning coy.  "I wasn't exactly encouraging 
you to watch the clock."	
	I grin at him.  "No, you certainly weren't."
	He giggles, flushing, and I reach for him, 
putting my arm around him and pulling him close.
	"Oh come here you," I say, kissing him swiftly.  
"You're beautiful."
	"So are you."
	"Ah, what a pair we make!"
	We arrive in New Orleans and drop off the sweaty 
horses at the local livery.  Louis gives the groom 
extra money to make sure the poor beasts are bedded 
down well for the day, then I rush him to my room in 
the ramparts.  We've only another half hour before the 
sun will start to hurt Louis, and I have no more than 
an hour.
	"I'm sorry about the state of the 
accommodations," I apologize when I see him eyeing the 
room with concern.  "As I said, I've only been in New 
Orleans a very short time."
	I shutter the windows and cover them with the 
heavy drapes, then I pull the lid off a large chest up 
to reveal my coffin.
	"It's a coffin!" Louis gasps.
	"Yes, cher, it is.  It's where we will sleep 
safe from the sunlight."
	"In there?  Oh, oh no.  I couldn't possibly get 
in there.  Can I not sleep in the closet?  Would that 
not be safe?"
	I feel myself getting irritated again.  "Louis, 
don't be silly!  What if someone comes in and opens 
the door?  You'll get all burned up, you will!"
	He wrings his hands in angst, and I remember the 
book.  He was claustrophobic in life and he is still 
hanging on to that.
	"But must it be so small, and that shape?  Is 
there anything magic to it?"
	I make myself calm down.  "No, cher, but it is 
safe and it has kept me safe for years."
	"But..."
	I go to him and take his face in my hands.  
"Hush.  You're clinging to your mortal fears.  They 
are nothing to you now.  You shouldn't be feeling this 
fear at all.  I think you are acting like a man who 
loses an arm or a leg and keeps insisting he can feel 
pain where the arm or leg used to be."
	My words, more gently spoken than they were 
before, have the same affect upon him as they did back 
then, and he calms.
	"Now, I am going to get in that coffin," I say 
softly, but firmly.  "You should get in on top of me, 
all right?"
	He nods and I kiss him, giving him a hug.
	"It will get easier for you, cher, I promise.  
Things are just very new to you now."
	I guide him to the chest and step in, lowering 
myself down.  He gets in with me, his face still 
showing his uncertainty.  I lie down and usher him to 
cover me, and when he does, I close the lid of both 
the coffin and the chest, locking the chest from the 
inside.  It is a bit cramped but wonderful.  He is 
pressed on top of me, his head against my cheek, and I 
put my arms around him, soothing him.  
	"It's all right now, cher.  We'll get you your 
own coffin tomorrow and you'll be safe.  And tomorrow 
you'll have your first hunt as well."
	He makes a noise of understanding, then shifts 
uncomfortably.
	"What is it, cher?"
	"Am I dead yet?"
	"What are you feeling?" I ask, but I already 
know he isn't completely changed, I can feel his 
erection against my thigh.
	"I tingle and itch all over."
	"Then you aren't dead yet.  Maybe tomorrow 
night.  For now, try to get some sleep."
	I feel him nod and try to relax, but a moment 
later he squirms and snorts into my shoulder.
	"Cher?" I ask.
	"I can't get comfortable.  I can't sleep."
	I realize that because he isn't fully dead yet, 
the death sleep hasn't quite gotten its hold on him.  
Once he is fully transformed, he will be quite 
unconscious by this time, but because he is still 
somewhat alive, he doesn't feel it quite so keenly.  I 
could tell him to wait a while longer until the sun is 
fully risen and then he will have no troubles 
sleeping, but the warm lump against my thigh gives me 
an idea on how I can help him get his mind off his 
discomfort.
	"Hmmm, I might be able to help you with that, 
cher," I reply, wiggling my hand between our bodies 
and pushing down to his crotch.
	"How?  Lestat... what are you doing?"
	I slip my hand into his trousers, unfastening 
them, and grasp his erection gently.
	"What does it feel like I'm doing?" I counter 
playfully, rubbing him.
	"It feels like you're..."  He stops as I get a 
good rhythm going.   "Ohhhh..."
	His head drops to my shoulder and I smile, 
falling into a steady pattern.
	"Last one, cher," I whisper in his ear, working 
him more intently.
	He groans and rubs his hips against my pelvis, 
increasing the friction.  This continues for several 
minutes as I work in earnest to bring him to climax, 
but it is soon apparent that he is resisting that 
pinnacle, pulling back from me and disrupting the 
pace.
	"Louis?  Louis, why are you fighting me?"
	He sighs.  "If it is to be my final one, I want 
it to last," he answers through gritted teeth.
	I almost laugh out loud.  "Why didn't you say 
so, Louis?  I'll slow down."  I change my rubbing from 
a quick stroke to a slower, more lazy gliding along 
his shaft.  "That better?"	
	He nods, matching my rhythm, his fingers digging 
into my arms.  "Mmm hmmm.  Ahhh."
	I alter my pattern, caressing the head, fondling 
his testicles, and changing the pace.
	"Is this good?" I ask and he moans an answer.
	I change the pattern again.  "Is this good?"
	"Mmm hmmm," he replies, rubbing against me.
	"And this?" I question a third time, shifting my 
angle.
	"Yes," he says, somewhat breathless.  "Lestat, 
if I'm not climaxing or begging you to stop, it's 
good."
	Ah.  That is right.  This is the time when sex 
is for a man's pleasure only and sensual pleasures are 
not entertained.  All the nuances of pleasure-giving 
and sharing with a lover are unheard of in this time.  
Men are expected to take their pleasure as they find 
it, and women are supposed to do their duty and get 
pregnant.  I decide to give him a lesson on the other 
side of things.
	"Oh, but Louis.  There is so much more to it 
than that," I murmur.
	I begin a full fledged seduction of him, working 
my free hand into his shirt to pinch and tease his 
nipples, while my mouth is busy kissing and licking 
his throat and face and chin, and all the while my 
other hand moves up and down along his length, 
sometimes squeezing, sometimes loosely rubbing.  He 
loves it.  He begins to growl and buck against me, 
nipping as his vampire instincts begin to surface.
	"Oh that is good, cher," I encourage.
	I move with him, matching his thrusts as he 
strains, mewling softly with pleasure, then his teeth 
find my neck and nibble at the skin.
	"Ahhh, is that what you want, cher?  But your 
teeth aren't in yet, are they?" I cajole.  "I'll have 
to help you there, my darling."
	I make the tear for him, a small one, one that 
gives only a few drops at a time and he fastens on to 
it, drawing hard as the blood, mixed with my 
systematic masturbation of him drives him wild.
	Rapture floods through me as he feeds and I 
tangle my hand in his hair.  He is moaning against me, 
consumed with ecstasy.
	"Oh my darling."
	I turn my head to nuzzle into his neck, smelling 
the vein and bite, completing the circuit.  I have no 
words to describe what this does to me.  This is more 
amazing and wonderful and pleasurable than anything I 
have ever experienced.  I have never made love with 
Louis this way.  After I made him, he never drank from 
me again and we shared no intimacies.  That was partly 
due to my poor making of him, and partly due to the 
fact that I treated him so badly and refused to let 
him get close to me.  Now we are joined, mind, body 
and soul in an endless red link.  
	I work him earnestly, and he is frantic in his 
feeding and his need for release.  My hand milks him 
swiftly, bringing him closer and closer to that 
pinnacle.  His moans increase, his thrusts become more 
insistent, and I grip him tightly with my hand, 
pumping hard with the other.  We buck against each 
other, moving as much as our confined station will 
allow, and our groans are muffled only by the coffin 
and the chest.
	I feel him coming.  I feel the spring getting 
ready to release, I can taste it in his blood.  He 
stiffens, thrusting hard against me as he climaxes, 
and I feel the sticky wetness of his last ejaculation 
spread over my hand.  His orgasm is accompanied by a 
strangled cry, then he falls limp atop me, his lips 
sliding from my throat as we release each other.  I 
stroke his softening organ a few more times, getting 
out the last of the semen and making him shiver for a 
little longer.  He is breathing heavily, shaking, the 
mild tremors running from him into me.  I soothe and 
caress him, the touch of a considerate lover, until he 
quiets and settles against me.
	"Think you can sleep now, cher?" I ask.
	My answer is a soft snore and I laugh to myself.  
I curl my hand around from his crotch to his backside, 
cupping a well made cheek in my palm while I wrap my 
other arm around him.
	"Sleep well, cher," I whisper, and let the death 
sleep take me.
	
	I awaken suddenly, not certain of my 
surroundings, then my head clears and I see the top of 
my old coffin.  We are still in the past and we are 
still reenacting those first nights.  Louis is on top 
of me, asleep.  I smile, enjoying his weight, and 
think about what I am going to do next.
	One of the things that made me such an ungodly 
bastard the night after I made Louis was that I was 
starved.  Louis had fed heavily from me and I had not 
replaced that blood.  So when I woke up the following 
night I was famished.  I am famished tonight as well, 
but I vow that the first thing we will do is get me 
fed.  Once my body is warm and my bloodlust satisfied, 
I will be calm and reasonable, and better able to 
guide Louis to his first kill.
	Louis stirs and mumbles something as he rises 
from his slumber.  He shifts, his cheek sliding across 
my face, then his eyes open.
	"Good evening, cher," I whisper.
	He screams with fright.  He does not remember 
where he is yet, or who I am.  He tries to get away, 
but he slams his head on the top of the coffin, and 
that only makes him worse.  He ignores my shushing, 
and struggles until I wrap my arms around him and pull 
him to me, forcing him to be still.
	"Shhhhh," I say.  "Shhhh.  It's just me, Louis.  
C'est Lestat.  You don't have to be scared."
	It takes him several moments, but he calms down, 
soothed by my hand stroking his hair and my soft words 
of comfort.
	"Oh, Lestat.  I had such a fright.  I woke up 
and I didn't know where I was or who you were.  And I 
was confined in this tiny box..."
	"There, there, darling.  It's all right."
	"Am I dead yet?" he asks timidly.
	"What are you feeling?"
	"Nothing.  No more itching or aches."
	"Then yes, you are dead."
	"It's done then."
	"No, not yet.  You still have to make your first 
kill.  You will do that tonight.  Then it will be 
done," I correct.
	I lift the lid of my coffin, sliding my hand out 
of the crack to unlock the trunk and push up both 
lids.  We take in the air and rise.  I inspect Louis 
carefully, refastening his pants and making sure he 
doesn't need another bath.  He looks at me shyly and 
flushes as I give him a pat on the rump.
	"Thank you," he murmurs.
	"For what, cher?"
	"For last night.  It was... wonderful," he 
answers, then hugs me.  "You're wonderful.  I love 
you."
	I hold him tightly, fighting the urge to burst 
into tears.  This is how it could have been, if I'd 
only been kind.  This is the love we would have had, 
if I hadn't been such a screw-up.  I made such awful, 
horrible mistakes, and this is the price I paid for 
them: two centuries of anger, pain and sorrow, where 
there should have been love.
	"Lestat?" Louis questions, concerned.  "Lestat, 
you're crying."
	I sniff and wipe my tears away.  "It's nothing, 
Louis.  I'm just very hungry.  You drained me numerous 
times last night, and now I am absolutely starved.  
It's making me very emotional.  I have to feed.  I 
have to feed now, or I will become an incorrigible 
monster."
	He gives me a wry smile.  "Then we need to get 
you fed right away."
	I kiss him.  "You stay here and I'll be back 
very soon.  Then we will go get you a coffin of your 
own and go out to Pointe du Lac."
	"Oh no.  I'm coming with you.  I want to watch 
you hunt."
	"Oh cher, you don't want to be with me on this 
hunt.  I'm far too hungry to be considerate of your 
aesthetic tastes."
	"I don't care.  I don't want to be away from 
you."
	I sigh.  "All right, but don't say I didn't warn 
you.  This might not be pretty."
	I take him out into the humid New Orleans night, 
and he is immediately taken with the barrage of new 
sights and sounds, delighting in his new vampire 
senses, but I am too famished to appreciate it.  I 
remember this all too well, my hunger making me rude 
and insensitive.  I don't want to be that way now, but 
the bloodlust is gnawing at my insides like a rabid 
dog.  I grab Louis' arm and pull him with me.  He 
protests.
	"Louis," I snap.  "I must feed now!  We have no 
time for your dallying.  Believe me, when you are as 
hungry as I am, you will understand all too well what 
I mean.  We will have time for more lessons later, but 
for now I have to hunt!"
	He halts, refusing me and my rough handling, 
standing in the dirt street, his heels dug into the 
soil, and his face a mask of indignation.
	"Louis, please, not now," I plead.  
	Something in my desperate expression must reach 
him, because he softens and steps closer to me.	
	"You warned me.  I'm sorry."
	"I don't mean to be rough with you Louis, please 
believe me.  I'm just so hungry."
	"Hunt then.  I promise I won't hold you back."
	"You are too kind to me," I blurt, kissing him.
	I take his hand and pause, listening to the 
sounds of the Louisiana night, trying to home-in on my 
prey.  I hear it very faintly with my ears, but my 
mind screams with it: a woman, being raped, not three 
alleys from here.
	"This way," I order, and am off.
	I give no thought to Louis behind me, but I can 
hear him keeping up, amazed at his new speed, his 
footsteps clipping at my heels.  We arrive at the 
alley and I literally rip the rapist from the woman, 
seizing him by his neck and yanking him up.
	"Run," I command her as she stares at me shocked 
and confused.
	She realizes what I have done in a second and 
scrambles to her feet.  "Thank you."
	"Get out of here.  Tell no one what you have 
seen."
	"You are an angel!" she exclaims.
	"I am death, now get out of here!" I shout, 
baring my fangs.
	She gasps and dashes off as I sink my teeth into 
the struggling man's throat.  His hot blood spurts 
into my mouth and I drink and drink, moaning, rocking 
him against me as I drain him dry.  There is nothing 
but the blood and my thirst, the flashes of his soul 
playing against my shut eyelids.  Finally, his heart 
stops and I swallow the death, releasing the corpse.  
The body falls heavily to my feet and I stagger, 
momentarily disoriented.  I feel someone grab my arm 
and I start, not knowing who it is.  Louis meets my 
misty gaze with concern and I kiss him fiercely, 
letting him taste the blood in my mouth.  He responds, 
licking at my teeth and moaning.  Then I push him 
away.
	"Are you all right?" he questions.
	I smile drunkenly.  "I'm fine, Louis.  It's just 
the swoon.  You'll feel it soon enough."
	"You look too weak to stand."
	"It will pass quickly.  It always does."
	A moment later, my head clears and I am myself 
again.  I look at Louis and see him staring at the 
body.
	"I'm sorry.  I didn't want you to see that," I 
say, catching my breath.  I'm much calmer now, my 
hunger satisfied for the moment.
	He nods.  "It was brutal, but you saved that 
woman."
	"Yes," I agree, going to him and taking his arm.  
"I'm much better now.  Let us go to the mortuary and 
procure you a coffin, and we will walk slowly so you 
can enjoy the wind in the trees."
	"Shouldn't we get rid of the body?"
	"Oh, oh yes.  Thank you for reminding me.  I've 
so much on my mind, so much to do..."
	"What shall we do with him?"
	"Hmm, first let me show you a little trick."
	I go to the dead man and Louis follows, watching 
as I prick my finger with my fang and rub the blood on 
the puncture wounds.  He gasps as he sees the wounds 
disappear.
	"This is one way to cover up the kill," I 
inform.
	I take the knife the man had used to subdue the 
woman and plunge it into his chest.  Then I take all 
his money and rip up his clothes.
	"There, now we can leave him here.  It will look 
like a robbery," I say, handing Louis the coins.  
"Here, cher, you have a better money mind than I.  
You'll be in charge of our investments."
	He looks at me with disgust and I wilt.  I take 
him into my arms and hold him close.
	"I tried to warn you that it wouldn't be pretty.  
You shouldn't start with humans.  You'll need to work 
your way up.  You'll never be the killer I am, but I 
knew that before I made you."
	"Must it be so harsh?"
	"No, it doesn't.  It's my way, but it doesn't 
have to be yours.  Come, let's go."
	He follows me as I lead him from the alley, 
taking our time as he gets lost in the power of his 
new senses.  We go to the mortuary and steal a coffin 
for him, then we retrieve the horses and carriage, put 
our coffins inside, for we are moving to Pointe du 
Lac, and head out of New Orleans.
	He is very quiet, and I am hoping that it is 
just his rapt attention with his new world.  The first 
time, I filled the trip with idle pratter, but now I 
stay quiet, watching him, letting him explore his 
senses.  He seems enamored with the jingle of the 
harnesses, the smell of the horses, the large trees 
lining the road.  I laugh softly and he blinks at me.
	"I'm not mocking you, Louis," I assure.  "I'm 
just enjoying your wonder.  You automatically know 
what to experience.  I don't have to show you a 
thing."
	He smiles and moves closer.  "I thought you were 
angry with me," he admits.  "You were so quiet.  I 
didn't know how to react."
	I laugh.  "And I was being quiet to let you see 
things on your own.  Why on earth would I be angry 
with you?"
	"Because of how I reacted with the man."
	"Oh no, Louis.  I'm not mad about that.  I mad 
at myself for being so callous.  You should have been 
spared that."
	"You tried to.  You told me to stay in the room.  
It was my choice to come along," he reminds.
	"That is true.  Are you angry with me?"
	"No.  It was just not what I expected.  It 
wasn't like the death of the overseer."
	"No, it wasn't.  I wasn't starved then."
	"But when you're not so hungry, you're gentle 
then?"
	I think about how to answer.  "Sometimes.  I 
won't lie to you, Louis.  There are times when I enjoy 
a savage kill.  I doubt that you will ever be that 
way, but can you accept that there are times when I 
am?"
	He considers my words then nods, snuggling up.  
"Yes, just so long as you warn me ahead of time and I 
won't come along."
	"Agreed," I say, putting my arm around him and 
pulling him close.  "Know what I want to do when we 
get to the house?"
	"What is that?"
	"I want to take you upstairs to that bed and 
cover you with my body like I did last night, and kiss 
you and kiss you until you beg for mercy... after 
you've fed of course.  Actually, I'm rather surprised 
that you aren't hungry.  You should be ready to hunt 
and feed."
	"I am hungry," he replies.  "I'm very hungry, 
actually.  It hit when I smelled the blood on that 
dead man and tasted it in your mouth."
	I'm shocked.  "Louis, why didn't you say 
something?  We could have fed you before we left New 
Orleans."
	He shrugs.  "You said I should start with 
animals."
	"But did you want him?  Did you want a man?"
	"I suppose so.  I felt a very strong pull to 
feed off him."
	I curse.  "Mon dieu!  Louis, if you get hungry, 
tell me.  We'll do something about it."
	"I knew we were coming here.  It didn't seem all 
that important."
	I shake my head.  "You have better willpower 
than I, Louis.  I'd be ravenous by now."
	"Well, I'm not ravenous yet, just hungry.  Maybe 
in a couple of hours, I'll be ravenous."
	"I shall endeavor to get you fed before that 
happens."
	He smiles.  "And afterwards?  The bedroom?  
Yes?"
	I grin.  "Yes."
	"Good, because I want to see how long I can hold 
out before I beg for mercy."
	We spend the rest of the trip in quiet 
conversation and delight of Louis' new senses, but our 
happy reverie is broken by our finding several 
carriages and strangers on the plantation.
	"Who are they?" I ask, surprised as I guide the 
carriage up the drive.
	"They're police.  Several of them," Louis 
answers.
	"Don't let them see you in the light.  Whatever 
you do, keep yourself in the dark.. You've just made 
the change and you haven't fed yet, they'll see the 
differences immediately."
	One of the officers meets the coach as I bring 
it to a halt.
	"Monsieur Louis de Pointe du Lac?" he asks.
	"I am Monsieur Pointe du Lac," Louis replies.  
"What is happening?"
	"There has been a robbery."
	"A robbery?" he repeats, getting down from the 
carriage, assuming his 'plantation master' persona.	
	The officer eyes me suspiciously as I get down 
and stand next to Louis.
	"This is Monsieur Lestat, he is my friend and 
can be trusted," Louis says with an air of authority, 
and I thrill to hear my name and the word 'friend' 
said in the same sentence.
	"Monsieur Louis, your overseer is dead.  His 
body was found on the river road.  Someone cut his 
throat."
	"Oh how horrible!  I knew he was going to New 
Orleans when we arrived last night.  Have they caught 
the murderer?"
	"No, they have not.  You were here then, last 
night?" the officer questioned.
	"Yes, to deliver Monsieur Lestat's father to his 
new rooms."
	"Ah!" the officer blurted, writing down 
something in his pad.  "So that explains the mystery 
of the old man!"
	"Yes, he is going to live here.  But what 
concern is that of yours?"
	The officer seems put back.  "No concern, 
Monsieur.  It was just that no one knew who he was or 
why he was here."
	"I instructed two slaves to care for him, did 
you not speak with them?"
	"The slaves are in turmoil over the overseer's 
death.  No work has been done at all today, and no one 
could find you in New Orleans.  Were you with your... 
friend?"
	He gives me another wary look and I scowl back.
	"Yes, I was with Monsieur Lestat."
	"I am going into the house, Louis.  If no work 
was done at all today, then my father probably needs 
tending to," I announce.
	"Meet me out here afterwards," he says airily.  
"I will need your assistance in settling things down 
here."
	"Of course," I say, bowing and enter the house.
	It takes three hours to get rid of the police, 
delegate responsibility for the indigo plant to a few 
able slaves, and settle the house.  All the while, I 
can see Louis' hunger growing, and I am eager to get 
him fed.  When all is finally quiet, I lead him to the 
chicken coop and take him inside.
	"Chickens?  You wish me to feed on chickens?" he 
asks.
	"Yes, take two or three.  They won't satisfy the 
lust the way human blood will, but it will sate your 
hunger."
	He looks at the nesting hens and his eyes glow 
in the darkness.  I can see the bloodlust spark in 
him.  He grabs the nearest one and rips into it, 
feeding voraciously.  His teeth are still not fully 
in, so he has to tear the flesh.  It's somewhat messy.
	"Have another," I instruct, when he finishes 
with the first one.
	"It doesn't taste the same as the blood of the 
man."
	"No, that is because it is animal blood, not 
human."
	"I want a man."
	That shocks me.  "Are you certain?"
	"Yes, I want a man.  This is like drinking water 
when you can have wine."
	I'd never heard that analogy used before, but 
yet he describes it perfectly.
	"All right, Louis.  We'll go hunting."
	We leave the coops and I take him into the 
swamp.  He pauses at the cypress trees, frightened and 
I turn back for him.
	"What is it, Louis?"
	"Won't the insects and the reptiles..."
	I laugh then comfort him.  "No, cher.  You are 
completely invulnerable to them now.  Come on.  Come 
see how good your vampire eyes see in the dark."
	He takes my hand and I guide him deep into the 
swamp, leading him to the runaway slave camp I had 
hunted before.
	"Now, my darling," I say quietly.  "We will wait 
for one to leave the camp and I will get him for you."
	He nods, scenting the air, and I know he smells 
their blood.
	"Patience, cher," I caution and he settles.
	It's nearly an hour before one separates himself 
from the group to go urinate.
	"Stay here.  I will get him for you," I tell 
him, slinking off to capture our prey.
	I come upon the slave swiftly and render him 
unconscious, then I carry him back to Louis, once 
again remembering the book.
	"We should find a secluded spot," I say.  "Your 
first kill should be done with some semblance of 
privacy and dignity."
	"What have you done to him?"
	"He is asleep.  He won't wake up, I promise 
Louis.  It will be an easy, gentle death."
	He seems relieved, and I take him to a sheltered 
cypress grove, settling down on the soft earth with my 
burden.
	"You're sure you want to do this?" I inquire.
	"Yes." 
	"All right then, kneel down," I lecture, placing 
the slave across my knees.
	Louis obeys and leans close, eager for the 
blood.
	"Easy now, cher, let me make the tear for you," 
I whisper.
	I bend my head down and bite the jugular, 
pulling with my teeth to widen the wounds.  Then I 
lift up and motion for Louis to drink.  He places both 
hands on the slave's shoulders and covers the tear 
with his mouth, beginning to feed.  I smile as I hear 
the small sucking sounds of his feeding and I stroke 
his hair lovingly.
	"That's it, cher, very good," I murmur 
repeatedly as he drinks, then grasp him by the 
shoulders when I fear he's taken too much.  "That's 
enough, cher.  Let him go.  He's dead..."
	Louis growls and holds tighter to the slave, 
refusing to let go.  I curse and pull on him hard, 
ripping him from his prey.  He is mad with blood lust 
and he fights me.
	"He's dead, Louis, you don't drink after they're 
dead."
	"No, his heart is still beating... there is 
more..."
	He strains to get back to the body, seizing the 
wrists and making to cut into one of them.  He did 
this before, and the only thing that snapped him out 
of it was my slapping him across the face, but that 
left a nasty welt and I don't want to do that this 
time.  I yank him away and swat him across the rump 
swift and hard.  He stills, breaking out of the frenzy 
and I sigh with relief.
	"You mustn't drink in the death, Louis.  You're 
not strong enough for that yet.  He'll take you with 
him and you'll die," I explain gently.
	He gives me a baleful look and snorts 
derisively.
	"What?" I say, pushing the body off my legs and 
giving it a quick shove so it rolls down the 
embankment into the swamp water.
	"You spanked me," he accuses.
	"Well, which would you have rather had, cher, 
the spanking or death?"
	"I would have stopped.  He wouldn't have taken 
me with him," he snaps, and I realize his anger is 
more from indignation than anything else.
	"Oh really, cher?  Well, please forgive me for 
loving you too much to allow you to try.  Besides, 
you've taken too much too soon, now you'll be sick."
	I see that he is going to argue when he feels 
the pangs in his belly and grips his sides.  I 
immediately hold him, comforting him.
	"It's all right, cher, it will pass.  It's just 
the blood merging with yours too quickly," I assure, 
stroking his hair.  I do that a lot.  I love to do it, 
even now.
	He clings to me and I rock him, soothing him as 
the pain grates in his stomach.
	"Don't you ever spank me again," he says through 
gritted teeth as the last of the pangs fade.
	"Of course not, cher.  I can think of much more 
pleasant things that involve my hand on your lovely 
derriere."
	That got him.  He giggles.  "I have a lovely 
derriere, do I?"
	"Most certainly, cher.  It was gorgeous last 
night when I bathed you.  I was hoping to see it again 
sometime," I answer, smiling at him.
	He forgets his pain and his indignation, and 
smiles at me.
	"Still hungry, cher?" 
	He shakes his head.  "No."
	"Would you like to head back to the house then?"
	"Yes, I believe that there is an empty bed and a 
wardrobe full of soft things just waiting for us to 
use them."
	I grin.  "Well, then we must not disappoint 
them, should we."
	"No, we should not," he replies, tangling his 
hand in my hair and bringing his mouth to mine.
	We kiss and let the warmth of the blood in our 
bodies spread through us.
	"I love you, Lestat," he breathes, looking at me 
with unadulterated affection.
	"I love you too, cher," I answer, taking in the 
wonderful sight of him.  
	It's over.  It's done, and it's time to end the 
hypnosis and see the results.
	"Talamasca," I say, and the world shifts, Louis 
and the swamp fading, and everything going black.
	I open my eyes to see the living room of the Rue 
Royale, and we are back in the present.  The electric 
lights glare, the stereo plays soft music, and David 
is looking down at me from his place on the loveseat.  
Somehow both Louis and I have ended up on the floor, 
wrapped in each other's arms.  I feel completely 
drained, as if I have been sucked dry and laid bare 
for the world to see.  It's a very unsettling feeling, 
and I look at Louis anxiously.  His eyes are still 
closed, but his brow is creased.  Hmmm, I don't like 
that.
	"He's coming out of it now," David informs.
	"Did you see it?  Did you see it all?" I ask.
	He smiles softly, almost sadly.  "I saw it 
all... it was... beautiful."
	Louis stirs and I return my attention to him, 
waiting for him to open his eyes.  The lids raise and 
I see the emeralds sparkle.  The pupils are dilated 
but then they condense, revealing more of the green 
iris.
	"Hello, Beautiful One," I whisper tenderly, 
hopeful.
	He blinks, getting his bearings, then quietly 
pulls himself from my embrace, and sits with his knees 
up and his back against the sofa.  It's a defensive 
position and my heart sinks.
	"Louis?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from 
breaking.
	"Two hundred years... wasted," he says, his 
voice flat and hollow.
	I sit up, resting my back against the sofa like 
he has done, and bow my head.  There is nothing I can 
say.  He is right, and I feel a chilling sadness creep 
through me.
	"Why?" he questions, on the brink of tears.
	I look down at my hands, my wrist, the wrist 
that gave him life.  "It was all I knew."
	"All you knew!" he shrieks, and I do mean 
shriek- it finds my spine and sends chills all down 
it.
	I turn away, my soul empty.  It didn't work.  He 
still despises me for what I did, the reenactment 
changed nothing.  I close my eyes.  I don't even hear 
what he says next.  My head drops to my knees, and I 
hug them to my chest as the pain lances through me, 
the empty ache of utter despair.  I had done 
everything right and I still screwed-up.  I had laid 
my soul at his feet and he trampled all over it.  
Nothing, nothing I did made a difference, everything 
is still the same between us.  Nothing, not my 
courage, not my careful measures to make sure it was 
done the way he wished it had been, not even my 
declarations of love, had reached him.  It was all for 
naught.  I let him see my most vulnerable side, just 
so he could reject me.  It's more than any man should 
be expected to bear.
	He's yelling now, something about my being a 
fool.  Oh yes, I am a fool, Louis.  More than I ever 
thought I would be.  I was actually foolish enough to 
believe you would forgive me, that we could love each 
other, that I wouldn't have to be alone in my heart 
any more.  It's too much.  I feel the grief crushing 
me, drowning out even my anger, my rage.  His scolding 
is far away, like a buzzing insect or static on the 
radio, and the pain is a black hole inside me, sucking 
me into it.
	I must have sobbed because Louis stops suddenly.  
David is speaking, berating Louis and saying something 
else, something about my being pushed too far.  Yes, 
that's it.  I've been pushed too far.  They are around 
me, calling my name.  Louis grabs my arm and tries to 
shake me.  I know it's him because of his lack of 
strength.  He yells an accusation and I snap.  I feel 
it, my nerves just breaking and scattering like 
brittle twigs.  They feel it too because they quiet 
and back away.  I'm trembling violently, the pressure 
building inside me until it boils over.  I scream.  
The lamps shatter, the logs in the hearth and next to 
it explode.  David shouts and goes to stamp out the 
flames before the flat burns down.  My scream goes on 
and on, breaking every crystal glass and vase in the 
room, shards fly everywhere.  Louis tries to quiet me, 
but I swing out my arm, striking him and sending him 
crashing over the sofa.  I stand and flee, smashing 
through the French doors without a backward glance.
	I find myself on the East Coast, somewhere 
outside of Savannah, Georgia, but where I am doesn't 
matter so long as it is away from everything.  I want 
to die.  I want to throw myself into the sun, but I 
know that won't work because I already tried that.  
The only thing that might work is my own beheading, 
and even then I would probably live.  But I must get 
away from this, I must find a way to end it, I can't 
bear this anymore.  I gave him all that I had and it 
still wasn't enough.  It wasn't enough!  It wasn't 
enough!  Nothing I give is ever enough!  It's over, 
everything is over.  I have no more reason to 
continue.
	I slash at my own face, mutilating myself, 
tearing at my neck and my wrists until I am pouring 
with blood.  I fall to the earth beneath a tree and 
let the blood flow.  Maybe... maybe if I let it all 
drain, I'll die, and if not, then at least I might 
sleep.  I gash open my throat as deep as I can, nearly 
severing the jugular completely.  The pain spreads 
through my body, but what is the pain of death 
compared to the pain in my heart?  What is the torture 
of Hell against the agony in my soul?  The loss of 
blood makes me lightheaded and the stars grow fuzzy, 
becoming tiny blurs of light against my dimming 
vision.  I think I laugh.  I hear the blood spilling 
from my veins, the sound of the liquid dribbling on 
the grass.  The pain drowns out the pain in my soul, 
and I am floating, too weak to move.  I settle into 
it, keeping my breathing slow and calm.
	Good-bye, Louis.
	I close my eyes and let go...
	Blood.  In my mouth.  An arm supporting my head, 
something soft under my back.  My eyes flare open and 
I see the brightness of a halogen light shining above 
me.  The light is then shadowed by a face looking down 
at me: cherub cheeks, curly auburn hair:  Armand.
	"Yes, my dark brother."
	I rip my teeth from his wrist, gasping.  I'm 
still alive, my wounds sealed.
	"Yes, in spite of your best efforts, you are 
still alive."
	"No..."
	His hand strokes my hair, his face is almost 
tender.
	"Why?" I choke.
	He looks so sad.  "Because Louis would never 
forgive me if I let you die, and besides, I was the 
closest.  We still live in Florida, just with less 
fanfare."
	I laugh bitterly.  The urchin had come streaking 
to my rescue.
	"I wasn't the only one.  Your mind scream was 
heard for 3000 miles.  I've been getting calls from 
the oldest of our kind, and you gave Daniel a 
migraine."
	Poor baby.	
	"Marius is on his way.  He will be here 
tomorrow.  In the meantime, you are supposed to rest.  
You lost nearly all your blood."
	"That was the point."
	Armand sighs.  "Lestat, you don't want to die.  
If you did, you wouldn't have been so public about it.  
I'm the Vampire Lestat, committing suicide, come save 
me."
	I exhale slowly, too weak to argue, and still 
too heart sore, and close my eyes.  Armand strokes my 
hair again.
	*Sleep, my brother.  Time will help heal your 
wounds, the physical and the emotional ones.*
	*You saw?  You saw what happened?*
	*David has given us a synopsis, and I garnered 
much from your mind.*
	I look up at him.  *Am I such a monster?*
	I half expect him to rebuke me, but his face 
softens and he shakes his head.  "No more so than any 
of us."
	He bends down and kisses my forehead.  "My poor 
wounded one.  I would never have thought Louis capable 
of such cruelty."
	I grimace at the sound of Louis' name, closing 
my eyes again, and trying not to cry.  I feel Armand 
settle next to me on the bed, turning out the light.  
His arm comes around me.
	"Hush.  Don't think about it.  Just sleep."
	Yes, sleep.  Sleep for centuries.  Armand 
strokes my hair.  It must be almost dawn, I can feel 
my limbs getting heavy.  Armand holds me.  I rest my 
head against his hair and sigh, losing consciousness.
	I awaken at dusk to find Marius sitting in a 
chair at the foot of the bed.  Armand is already gone.
	"He went to hunt with Daniel.  It's something 
they like to share and he makes sure Daniel covers up 
the kill."
	Ah, so Daniel is still careless in that 
department.  He must have taken lessons from me.
	"He idolizes you, yes, and mimics you; sometimes 
too much."
	I smile weakly.
	"How do you feel?" he asks me seriously.
	"I'm not yet recovered, and some things never 
will," I answer.
	"Do you want to hunt?"
	I shake my head.  "I've no desire to leave this 
room."
	He stands and comes to sit beside me on the bed.  
"You must replace the blood you lost in order to 
heal," he says softly, lifting my upper body into his 
arms and cradling me against him.
	"I wanted to end it all," I murmur.
	He laughs softly.  "Lestat, you were never in 
any danger of dying.  You've merely drained yourself, 
and you'll be weak for a few days at most."
	"Joy.  I get to go on living.  How ducky."
	He sighs and draws me close.  Why is everyone 
being so nice to me?
	"Because we love you and you've really got us 
worried," Marius answers.  "This is the second time in 
a decade that you have tried to end it, and frankly, I 
cannot imagine going on without the Brat Prince 
breaking all the rules.  You're the one who unites us, 
Lestat.  Your antics always bring us together."
	Then why am I always falling apart?  Marius 
smiles gently and bites his wrist, pressing it to my 
lips.
	"Drink.  Drink and get better."
	A vampire cannot resist drinking when blood 
pours directly in his mouth.  Marius knows this, which 
is why he pressed his wrist to my mouth.  I have no 
choice but to swallow the blood.  He feeds me like an 
infant suckling on a bottle or a breast, rocking me.  
It's profoundly comforting, and I fall asleep again as 
he wraps me in blankets.
	David is waiting for me when I wake up, and I 
scowl at him.
	"What do you want?"
	"To make sure you are all right and to try to 
explain," he replies, his voice sad.
	"What's to explain?  I laid my soul at Louis' 
feet and he used it as a doormat," I snap bitterly.
	David bows his head.  "I don't think he realizes 
what he's done.  He's too caught up in his own pain, 
and no one will be trying to tell him anything anytime 
soon, I don't think."
	"Why is that?" I ask, concerned in spite of 
myself.  Damn!  The man tramples on my heart and I 
still care!
	"Because he's gone.  He must have left last 
night, although how he could have managed that, I 
don't know.  It was almost dawn when I went to sleep 
and he was gone when I awoke."
	My eyes widen and fear seizes me.  "You don't 
think he..."
	"No.  I would know if he tried to kill himself 
again.  Frankly, I think he is too angry to suicide.  
His emotional state was very different from the night 
he put himself in the sun.  Then he was drowning in 
despair, now he is incensed.  No, wherever he is, he 
is safe."
	"Until I get my hands on him and throttle him," 
I growl.
	"You'll have to wait in line.  I know of at 
least two others who are ahead of you."
	"Who?" I question, my curiosity piqued.
	"Armand for one.  He's livid, if you haven't 
guessed.  And Marius, although Marius isn't angry.  He 
wants to find Louis to talk to him."
	I laugh without mirth.  "Marius was always good 
at that."
	"I've talked to both.  Explained what happened, 
what I think happened, and what I was able to garner 
from Louis.  He was very very distraught after you 
left."
	"Good for him.  If you hadn't noticed, I wasn't 
exactly bubbling with happiness either."
	He sighs.  "I know.  Lestat, I'm sorry.  I was 
trying to help.  I didn't mean for this to happen."
	"It's all right, David.  It's not your fault.  
It's just the way Louis and I are.  I should have 
known he would reject me no matter how gentle and 
loving I was."
	David wrings his hands.  "But that is exactly 
the point.  You were too gentle and loving.  He didn't 
believe you were sincere.  It was too much the way he 
wished it had been, he thought you were faking it for 
his own benefit."
	I start to laugh, bitter cutting laugher aimed 
at myself.  "So I destroyed it all by being too nice.  
How ironic!"
	"Lestat..."
	"Leave me alone, David."
	"Lestat, I..."
	"Leave me ALONE, David!"
	He pauses, then exhales.  "All right." I hear 
him get up and move to leave the room.  "I love you, 
Lestat.  I'm sorry," he whispers as he goes out.
	I say nothing, just lay there staring at the 
ceiling and wishing I was away from here.  As soon as 
I am strong enough, Louis won't be the only one no one 
can find.  
	Months pass.  I spend the winter in blessed 
solitude, enjoying the warmth of the Greek Isles, and 
during that time I hear nary a peep from any of my 
immortal brothers and sisters.  That suits me fine.  
In the spring, I migrate north into Europe, wandering 
aimlessly through France, Germany, the Netherlands, 
and finally settling in Austria for the summer.  
Something about the secluded isolation of the high 
mountains attracts me, and I hope to lose myself in 
high mountain meadows dotted with sheep.  But no 
matter where I go, or how long I stay in any one 
place, I cannot escape the pain inside me, the utter 
loneliness and desolation I feel in my heart.  I have 
no desire to kill myself, having resigned myself to 
the fact that I truly am immortal and nothing can kill 
me now, and the scars on my neck and wrists have long 
since faded.  But the scars on my soul have not.  I 
don't know which is worse: knowing that Louis rejected 
me, or knowing that he rejected me because he thought 
I was lying.  When I let myself think about it, I find 
that I don't really care, but I try not to think about 
it because it usually sends me on a killing frenzy.  
I've heard nothing from Louis or from any of the 
others about him.  Marius found me in Spain but we did 
not discuss Louis at all; it was probably best that 
way.  It still hurts too much.
	With the coming of Autumn, I feel a certain 
stirring inside me that draws me back to New Orleans.  
It's been over a year since I set foot in my beloved 
Crescent City, and I find myself yearning for her 
moist heat and warm hospitality.  I am tired, weary of 
wandering, and I want to go home.  I land back in the 
States in mid-September, and return to my flat on the 
Rue Royale.  It's empty and appears to have been so 
for quite some time.  There is a layer of dust over 
everything.  The first thing I do is call a maid 
service and arrange for the flat to be cleaned while I 
am asleep in my attic lair.  The second thing I do is 
go to see Mojo.
	He's older now, my beautiful dog, there is gray 
on his muzzle and along his back, but he still has the 
enthusiasm of a young pup whenever he sees me, and our 
reunion is sweet indeed.  It is so good to feel and 
smell him again.  He whines and wags his tail and does 
all the wonderful things a dog does when he loves you.  
We go out together and I let him run.  I know he won't 
go far.  His love I know I can never doubt and he will 
never misconstrue or reject my affections, but his is 
the unadulterated love of an animal, and not the same 
nature as the love of men, and it eases my emptiness 
only a little. 
	Sometime after midnight, I return Mojo to his 
keeper and go wandering off on my own.  I find myself 
walking along Pirate's Alley, headed towards the 
cathedral.  Both it and Jackson Square are locked, but 
that never stopped me before.  I slip in through a 
side door and sit down on one of the pews.  They've 
redone the ceiling in recent years.  It's magnificent 
and my eyes trace the shining patterns.  There is 
something comforting about this place, something that 
always puts my mind at ease.  From outside I hear a 
musician playing a saxophone.  I smile.  It's good to 
be home.
	I hear a tentative footfall behind me and seize 
up.  I know the sound of those feet, and that 
heartbeat, and the scent.  My mind roils with rage, 
pain, and hope all at the same time.  I don't move.  
Long moments pass with neither of us making a sound.  
I refuse to look at him, keeping my eyes firmly fixed 
on the altar.  The feet shuffle then turn and recede.  
I hear the door close.  So he came and went, did he?  
Probably wanted to see if I'd notice him.  Little 
bastard.  The church no longer seems so comforting, as 
if its sanctity has been violated, and I leave.  I 
head up Decatur and cross to the Moonwalk.  Ahhh the 
Mississippi is so beautiful.  I commence to walk along 
it unaccosted.  I don't see, hear, or smell Louis at 
all, and I return to the flat close to four in the 
morning.  My attic lair is as I left it and I settle 
into my vault to sleep the day away.
	I dream of Louis.  Wonderful dreams of love that 
never happened, and I wake up weeping uncontrollably.  
Damn him.  I should never have come back here.  It was 
stupid of me.  I should have known he would be here 
even if he wasn't living in the flat.  I have the urge 
to leave again, but I don't want to.  I just got back 
and I want to stay for a while.  But if I stay I will 
surely have to face him eventually.  What then?  Will 
I rage and kill him?  Will he try to avoid me if he 
sees me?  No, he came after me in the cathedral.  
He'll probably want to "talk" eventually.  
I rise to find that the cleaner has done an 
exemplary job.  As always my money buys me the finest 
services.  I shower, change and head out to hunt.  
About an hour later I realize I'm being followed.  I 
ignore him and go about my business.  He keeps himself 
a good distance away, but trails me all the way 
through the French Quarter, into the Garden District 
and out past the Lafayette Cemetery.  Beyond that, I 
head for the levee out by Tulane University, crossing 
St. Charles and traveling steadily west.  
	I travel for miles, my vampire stamina 
sustaining me, and the city gives way to the empty 
fields of the flood plains and old plantation 
properties.  Not many of the grand houses are left, 
but a few bring back memories of my days on Pointe du 
Lac.  I was happy there, Louis at my side, even if he 
did hate me, and I never forgave him for burning that 
magnificent house down.  I walk on, knowing that Louis 
is about half a mile behind, and wondering what I 
should do.  I could fly away and be gone from here 
again.  I don't have to face him, I don't have to look 
into those green eyes, eyes I bared my soul to.  The 
pain comes back with a vengeance.  I could run, but he 
would be here every time I came back, following, 
waiting.  He's stolen my home from me, my comfort, my 
sanctuary.  I reel from it, staggering down the levee 
to slump at the foot of an old live oak, its moss 
covered branches twisting upwards to the heavens.  I 
could run, but if I do, I would have to keep running, 
running until one of us was gone.  It angers me, 
angers me that I should feel so hunted and threatened 
by him.  The only way I will end this is if I face him 
and get this over with.
	I bow my head, curling my legs underneath me, 
pressing my back into the trunk, and wait.  He 
approaches slowly, his steps wary and uncertain.  I 
hear his hand on the tree trunk, curling around as he 
moves next to me.  I say nothing.  I do not even 
acknowledge his presence, but he knows I know he is 
here.  He sits down on a gnarled root.
	"Lestat."
	Oh the voice, razors tearing into my soul.  I 
think I wince.
	"What do you want?" I manage, my voice faint.  
I'm tired.  I'm so tired.
	He shifts uncomfortably.  "To talk to you."
	Talk.  Ah, yes, talk.  Why don't you talk, 
Louis?  Every word you say only spears right through 
me like a hot poker.  Oh, but you've already done that 
haven't you?  You and Claudia both hit me with it, 
after you had set me aflame.  And what would you do 
differently in _your_ reenactment, Louis?  Would you 
stand idly by when she slit my throat, pouring all my 
blood out of my weakened, poisoned body?  Would you 
try to stop her, save me?  Or would you help her do 
it?  Which is it, my erstwhile friend and lover?
	"The others, they've been looking for you.  
David, Armand...  Marius said he found you once in 
Europe."
	So Armand hadn't killed him.  So much for Armand 
being 'livid' with him.
	"Say what you have to say, Louis, then leave 
me," I say.
	He is quiet for a long time.  "So this is the 
way it will be then?"
	I can't believe he just asked me that.  "How can 
it be any other?"
	I loll my head back, propping it against the 
tree, my eyes facing up.  I spy a garden spider, 
almost as big as my hand, wrapping its newest meal.  
It pauses and looks at me; I see its beady eyes and I 
feel like that moth: ensnared, trapped, helpless and 
doomed.
	He shifts again.  I can sense his agitation.  He 
always fidgets when he is upset.  I think I smile to 
myself.
	"Freniere.  Would you still have killed 
Freniere?" he inquires suddenly, out of the blue.
	Freniere?  That gambling cheat?  How could he 
ask me such a preposterous question?  I glare at him, 
letting my anger give me the strength to look at him 
without bursting into tears.
	"Freniere?!  You're worried about Freniere?!  Of 
course I would still have killed that lying, cheating 
bastard!  The only thing I would do differently is 
that you would have been privy to all the things I 
knew that you didn't.  He was on the verge of losing 
the plantation to gentlemen of the most vile sort who 
would have taken your precious Babette and sold her 
into white slavery if it suited them!" I snap 
peevishly.  "You should have thanked me for killing 
him and helped me dispose of the body.  Now if that is 
all you have to say, please go away and stop following 
me!"
	I look away again, turning my back, hoping he 
will now leave me in peace.  Freniere indeed.  Hmph.  
He followed me for twenty miles to ask me if I would 
still have killed that insignificant brat.  He doesn't 
leave.  He fidgets again and I grow impatient.
	"What is it now, Louis?"
	"The others... they say you weren't, but I need to 
know from you, Lestat.  Did you mean everything you 
said when David..."  He stops, letting the question 
hang.
	No, Louis, it was all a big lie.  I even fooled 
myself.  "Yes, I meant everything I said."
	"And everything you... did?"
	I sigh.  "Yes, Louis, everything I did.  I meant 
it all, but it doesn't matter anymore does it?  It's 
all said and done.  You rejected me.  It's over.  Now 
leave me alone."
	"Maybe not," he says softly.
	"Please don't patronize me, Louis."
	"I'm not."
	I laugh sarcastically, and he moves to sit 
cross-legged in front of me.
	"Lestat, look at me," he commands gently.
	I raise my eyes just enough to see him.
	"Do you love me?" 
	"I don't know, Louis.  Do you think I love you?  
You've tried to kill me twice and yet I came back.  
You refused me when I needed you, yet I forgave you.  
You've betrayed me, hurt me and abandoned me, yet I 
always welcomed you home.  I haven't burnt you to a 
cinder for even asking me such a stupid question after 
all you've put me through.  So you tell me, Louis.  Do 
I love you?" I answer angrily. 
	He looks chagrined.  "I didn't mean to hurt you, 
Lestat.  But when you said that it was all you knew..."
	"It was all I knew!" I shout, snapping, my 
outburst sending the spiders scrambling for the safety 
of the branches.  "I was a fledgling myself!  My 
mortal life was hell and I was forced into this one!  
I'd lost my mother, my best friend, my brothers and 
all their wives and children, and very nearly my 
father!  I was in a strange land away from all I knew, 
and my only experience was pain and suffering and 
violence!  I knew nothing of love, or gentleness, or 
kindness!  No one ever showed it to me!" 
	I stand, my temper rising, and tower over him, 
my fists clenched.  "I know I was a monster to you!  I 
know I bungled it!  I didn't know any better!  And no 
one knows more than I what I paid for my stupidity!  
Two centuries we spent hating and fighting and hurting 
each other when we should have been loving!  That 
night David sent us back, I learned how things could 
have been between us, and I felt the emptiness and 
desolation of all those years of waste!  And when I 
held you in my arms, I prayed that you would remember 
only the good things, that we could come together and 
love the way we did in that passion play.  
	"But you despised me even more for all my 
efforts and rejected me!  Nothing I did made it any 
better between us, and nothing ever will because I've 
already given you everything I have!  So will you 
please go away and stop tearing me apart!"
	I cease my tirade, panting, feeling the blood 
sweat on my brow.  He is looking up at me, his face a 
mask of abject shock.  Then he launches himself up, 
his arms open and seizes me in a tight hug.  I freeze, 
stunned.
	"Forgive me!  Please forgive me!" he begs, 
clinging to me  "I didn't know.  I didn't dare hope..."
	"How could you think that I would ask you to 
have such faith in me, and then lie to you?" I say, 
gripping his arms.
	He sobs.  "I don't know.  It was just so 
wonderful and so perfect, and it was everything I 
wished it could have been.  I couldn't believe it!"  
He gropes me, trying to cleave himself to me.  "I was 
a fool!  I'm sorry!  I love you.  I've missed you so 
much.  Please forgive me, please love me!"
	I thrust him away from me, snarling, and he 
collapses to the grass, weeping.
	"You think you can just come back into my life 
after you stomped all over my heart and soul, and beg 
forgiveness, and all will be absolved?!  I bared my 
soul to you, Louis, and you accused me of deceit!  I 
gave you everything I had, I laid my heart in your 
hands, and you rejected me!  How can I ever trust you 
again?"
	"Then kill me," he chokes.  "Kill me and end my 
misery.  I can't live like this anymore."
	I almost do it.  I can feel myself getting angry 
enough to incinerate him.  If he were anyone else, he 
would have been ashes by now.  I growl.
	"I despise you for hurting me!" I scream.
	"I know, and I deserve your hatred and your 
retribution.  I was the fool.  I didn't trust you.  
It's my fault."
	"Yes, it is, and what are you going to do about 
it?"
	He rises to his knees, placing himself before me 
like a sacrificial victim and arches his neck back.  
He says nothing, merely closes his eyes and waits. 
The sight of him kneeling there, his neck 
offered, his cheeks stained with tears, makes all the 
anger fade from my body.  Like a splash of cold water 
striking my face, I remember David's words: "This will 
only end when both of you drop your pride or when 
Louis dies."  It will end if I kill him, but I can't 
kill him.  I can't kill him any more now than I could 
then.  I feel my face fall and I slump to the ground, 
drained.  Neither of us moves, and I can hear the 
spiders skittering in the tree, wondering whether or 
not it is safe to come out.  A kind of melancholy 
resignation settles over me and I think back to all 
that has happened.  David was right.  It is an endless 
cycle that we never seem to break, and he was right 
about the other, that it has to end somewhere.
	"Why do we do this, Louis?" I ask meekly, 
crestfallen.
	He blinks as me and shakes his head.  "I don't 
know."
	"Why do we fight and hurt each other so much?"
	"Maybe we are doomed to repeat our past 
mistakes."
	I look at him, my heart breaking.  "I wanted to 
start over with you.  I wanted to break the cycle.  
That's what this was all about."
	"I know, and I messed it up.  You let down your 
pride, but I didn't let go of mine.  David was right, 
we both had to do it," he says sadly.
"I don't want to continue like this anymore."
	"Neither do I."
	"Can't we stop then?"
	"Do we know how?"
	"I don't know."
	We fall silent, staring at each other, our faces 
red.
	"I love you," I blurt suddenly.
	He seems surprised.  "I love you too."
	I open my arms.  "Come here, Beautiful One."
	He enters my embrace willingly and I hug him, 
burying my face in his ebony locks.  We continue to 
cry, holding each other, and Louis cleaves to me until 
I pull away and kiss him, stroking his hair.
	"Lestat.  I'm sorry, Lestat," he whispers.
	"We're both fools," I admit.
	"No.  You tried so hard, and I ruined it."
	"I wanted it to be perfect for you."
	"It was perfect.  It was more than perfect.  I 
wish it had always been that way."
	"But Louis, that was what it was all about.  So 
that you would see, and remember the good things."
	"I know.  I know, and all I could see was the 
time that we wasted."
	"But it was just two hundred years in eternity, 
Louis.  Can't we start over, you and I?" I point out 
gently.
	He shudders.  "Do you really mean that?"
	"Yes," I say tenderly.
	"You forgive me after all I've done?" he asks, 
looking at me with surprise.
	I pause, trying to think of the words.  The pain 
is still so sharp, but then so is the pleasure of 
holding him in my arms.
	"Like you, Louis, I can choose what to remember.  
I can remember the pain and betrayal, or I can 
remember the love and the hope for a better future.  I 
choose the latter.  We'll always remember the hurt and 
the wasted years, and even what we have done here 
tonight, but we can make the good things outnumber the 
bad.  We have forever, do we not?  I don't know if I 
can ever forgive you, just as you may never forgive 
me, but we can make the forgiveness not matter."
	He blinks then lowers his gaze.  "I never 
thought I would hear such words come from you.  When 
did you get so much wiser than me?"
	"When I saw you lying there out in the open, 
waiting for death, helpless and prepared to incinerate 
yourself.  In that moment, I knew I would do anything 
to keep you with me, and that I did not want to live 
without you."
	He leans into me and presses his face to my 
shoulder.  "I don't want to live without you either."
	I kiss his temple, coveting him.  "Then let's 
start over... again.  And do it right this time."
	He looks at me, his eyes sparkling with 
happiness and warmth.
	"Yes, and I think I know where to begin."
	"Where, Louis?"
	He takes my hand and kisses it, then gives me a 
secretive smile.
	"Give me an hour's head start then come home.  
I'll be waiting for you."
	"An hour's head start?  Why Louis?"
	"Because there are some preparations I want to 
make and I need the time."
	I smile at his lopsided expression.  "All right, 
Louis.  You have an hour.  No more.  Starting now."
	He grins, his eyes alight with excitement and 
kisses me.
	"59 minutes," I remind.
	He scrambles to his feet and vanishes.  I sit 
beneath the tree for a while longer, contemplating 
exactly how big of a glutton for punishment I am.  
Finally, I get up and start to make my way back to the 
city.  Along the way, an idea strikes me and I hurry 
along the river road, rushing to get to the French 
Quarter.  I stop at a florist's, it's closed of 
course, but I unlock the door and enter.  Rummaging 
through the racks of cooling flowers, I select an 
arrangement of roses and leave money on the counter.  
Then I leave, locking up the shop and carrying my 
fragrant bouquet home.
	I'm early, but only by ten minutes.  It's quiet 
as I enter the flat, too quiet, and dark.  I move to 
turn on the light, but the switch doesn't work.  Then 
I realize that the incessant hum of electricity is 
missing.  Somehow the electric has been turned off.  I 
almost go out to check the breaker box when my eyes 
spy the flicker of light at the top of the stairs.  I 
breathe in.  Beeswax and fire.  I climb the stairs 
cautiously, and enter the living room.  Two 
candelabras, the kind we used in the old days, glow 
brightly on the table, and the oil lamps burn low.  A 
small fire burns in the hearth, warming the room.  The 
flat is how it looked in the 1800's.  All the 
affectations of the modern era have been removed, and 
my computer system has been locked away inside its 
wooden cabinet.  The entire scene is both charming and 
painful.  I hear a noise behind me, the creak of a 
light step on the wooden floor, and turn around.
	Louis is there, dressed in 18th century garb: 
green velvet knickers, white silk stockings and heeled 
shoes, green velvet vest with red and gold appliquZ˙s, 
white billowy shirt and a black silk ascot.  He is 
magnificent, and I think I forget to breathe.  The 
roses slip from my numb hand and fall to the rug with 
a dull thud.
	"Who are you and what are you doing in my 
house?" he asks sternly, but his mouth is twitching up 
at the corners. 
	A thousand things run through my head at once, 
then I smile my most winning smile.  "I've come to 
answer your prayers..."
	Louis' face cracks and he giggles.  "Oh, please.  
Not that movie..."
	"Oh come on Louis," I tease, coming towards him 
with open arms and embracing him loosely.  "The 
twinkie wasn't all that bad."
	He smiles shyly.  "They got my hair all wrong..."
	"So?  Do I look anything at all like Mr. 
Cruise?"
	"No, you're much much better looking."
	"And you could top Brad Pitt over for Most 
Gorgeous Living Thing on the Planet Award any day."
	"Flatterer," he says, reaching down to pick up 
the roses, and giving them a brief but satisfied sniff 
as he puts them in a vase on the table.  They'll need 
water later, but not now.
	"Absolutely, but where were we?  Ah, yes, you 
wanted to know who I was and what I was doing in your 
house.  Hmmm... hold on.  It's not your house, it's _my_ 
house.  So, who are you and what are you doing in my 
house?"
	He shakes his head and looks at me fondly.  
"Perhaps it would be best if we skipped this part."
	"All right, Louis.  Where would you like to... 
fast forward to?" I answer agreeably.
	He smiles at my use of the modern euphemism, 
then folds happily into my arms.  "This.  Hold me."
	I readily oblige, wrapping my arms tightly 
around him, and pressing my face to his silken hair.  
His runs his hands up my sides to clasp my back, 
holding me close, then I feel him start to tremble.
	"Louis?"
	"Something's happening to me!"
	"What?  What is happening to you, Louis?"
	"My body, it hurts, it aches and tingles.  It 
won't stop and parts of it are numb."
	For a moment, I am dumbfounded, then I realize 
what he is doing.  
	"You're dying."
	He jerks.  "Dying!  Dying!"
	I nuzzle his ear and rock him.  "Shhhhhh.  It's 
only mortal death.  It can't hurt you."  I take his 
hand and make him look at his fingers.  "Look, see 
your fingernails?  See how hard and glassy they 
look..."
	I trail off as he raises his eyes to me and we 
stare at each other.  The tears are making red rivers 
down his white face.  I swallow hard and tentatively 
brush a red splotch from his cheek.  He shivers and 
closes his eyes, moving his cheek closer to my hand.  
I lose my resolve and grab him, crushing him to me 
with an almost desperate need, and to my amazement he 
allows it, he even grips me with equal zeal, curling 
his fingers into the lapel of my modern day leather 
jacket.  My hand cradles his head, my fingers tangle 
in his black hair, and my face is buried against his 
neck; we are both trembling violently and he weeps.  
And as I did in our re-enactment, all I do is hold him 
and let him cry.  
	After a while I come to realize that his tears 
are not only making the grief come from him, but also 
making it come out of him, cleansing him, as if he had 
needed to do this all along and I had never let him: 
just cry for everything he had lost so he could 
appreciate what he had gained.  Maybe he had spent all 
those years not stuck in a deep depression, but 
trapped in a stage of grief from which he could not 
pass until he had done this washing of his soul.  Hope 
fills me as I think of this, that maybe now he will 
begin to let go of the past and start our new life 
together.  We had lived out our first mortal lifetime 
not as lovers or even as good friends, but as 
reluctant companions held together by our mutual love 
for Claudia...  Claudia.  We would have to talk about 
Claudia... someday.
	"I remember," his ragged voice rises from my 
shoulder, breaking me out of my thoughts.  "I remember 
it all so clearly, and it was so beautiful.  David was 
right, it was so beautiful.  And I wanted it to be 
real.  I wanted so badly for it to be real."
	"Maybe if we love it hard enough and long 
enough, it will be real," I whisper.
	I don't know why I said it, or even why I used 
that analogy, but something inside him shifts and I 
can feel it.  He settles, then slowly looks at me.  
	"Will it be our velveteen rabbit?  And will we 
be the Boy?" he asks, his voice barely above a 
whisper.  "Will we love it until its eyes fall off, 
and its seams rip, and its fur rubs bare?"
	For some reason tears brim my eyes and it takes 
me a few moments to find a voice to speak.  "Will the 
skin horse tell it that it won't mind being hurt 
because it is loved?"
	"And finally, after we've loved it for a long 
long time, and its hair has been loved off, and its 
eyes popped out and its gotten loose in its joints and 
very shabby, then will it be Real?"
	"Yes, said the skin horse," I breathe softly.  
"And those things won't matter at all, because once it 
is Real it can't be ugly, except to people who don't 
understand."
	He smiles at me, his tears ceasing and his eyes 
filling with a warm light.  He holds my hands in his 
very tightly.
	"And once it is Real, it can't become unreal 
again.  It lasts for always."
	"Always," I repeat, returning the smile and 
letting two tears trickle from my eyes and down my 
face.
	He moves against me, resting his head on my 
collar bone, his nose just under my chin, and I take 
my hands from his to embrace him.  He is soft and 
pliant and yielding, and the pleasure of holding him 
borders on pain.  We don't say anything.  I think we 
are both afraid to speak.
	"I think I know how to make one small part of it 
Real now," he says, breaking the silence.
	"How?" I ask gently.
	He gives me a tender smile, pulling away and 
taking my hand, then he leads me from the living room, 
down the hall to his bedroom.  The poster bed has been 
draped in mosquito netting and dressed in the light 
quilts and sheets popular in the 1700's, and on it, 
laid out in wait, is a fur stole, a silk scarf, a 
chiffon veil, a large feather, and a satin dressing 
gown.  In addition to these items, he has also added a 
velvet sheet, a cloak of black suede, a shirt made 
from chamois, and a motley selection of large swatches 
from various materials of differing textures and 
softness.
	I enter the room, moving to stand beside him, 
and catch a glimpse of us in the tall cheval mirror.  
Such a contrast, Louis dressed in his old fashioned 
garb and I in my 90's T-shirt and jeans, leather 
jacket, cowboy boots and all.  It brings a rueful 
smile to my lips.  He sees me smiling and gives me a 
quizzical look, turning his head to look in the mirror 
himself.  He must see what I see because he smiles 
too, then takes my hand again and pulls me towards the 
bed.
	We stand at the foot of it, arms around each 
other and kiss tenderly.  I hear him let out a long 
sigh as we break the kiss and for a moment, I just 
look at him.
	"So?  What shall we do first?" I ask.
	His lips turn up into a sweet smile.  "I think 
you are going to go run me a bath."
	I grin.  "You know, I think I am too, cher.  I 
think I am too."
	Hours later, the room strewn with discarded 
clothes and cloth, the covers pulled back, and Louis 
and I snuggled together on the bed, his precious head 
against my naked chest, a figure appears in the 
doorway.  I raise my eyes, aware that we are no longer 
alone, but there is no need to wake my sleeping 
beauty.  I know the vampire who has entered.
	"It's all right, David.  You can come in.  I'm 
awake," I whisper.
	He steps closer, coming to stand beside the bed.
	"How did you know we were here?" I ask.
	David looks away guiltily.  "I've been living in 
your old penthouse and I make a point to scan this 
place for life signs a few times a night.  I also scan 
for Louis.  I knew you were back last night, but I 
stayed away.  I wanted you and Louis to meet and talk 
first."
	"Keeping tabs on us, eh?" I say pleasantly.
	He shrugs.  "We didn't know what would happen 
when you and he got together again.  Neither of you 
have been very stable this past year.  We thought it 
best that at least one of us be nearby and ready to 
intervene if necessary."
	I smile.  "Well, as you can see, it wasn't 
necessary, and if you'd 'intervened' a couple of hours 
ago, I would have been quite incensed."
	He actually blushes.  "I know."
	I raise an eyebrow, then grin.  "Well, thank you 
for the sentiments.  And who is 'we' anyway?"
	"Myself, and Armand and Marius.  We were... 
concerned."
	My grin softens to a loving smile.  "I know.  
And thank you.  For everything, but especially this."
	I look down at Louis' peaceful face.  Then I pat 
the space beside me on the bed, the side opposite 
Louis' slumbering form.
	"Come.  Sit down.  I would speak with you."
	David obeys, positioning himself lightly on the 
side of the mattress, and I cover his hand with one of 
my own, letting my fingers squeeze lightly.
	"It's been very quiet without you," he admits.
	I laugh softly.  "I am sure Louis got much 
reading done."
	He shakes his head.  "I don't think so.  He 
doesn't read much when he is miserable."
	I have to smile.  "Taking care of your brother, 
hm?  That is good.  My fledglings should always look 
out for each other."
	"And for their maker," he adds, a hint of humor 
in his voice.
	I absently brush Louis' hair with my fingers, 
something I had randomly done before, but our voices 
must have brought him to a lighter level of sleep 
because his face twitches and he begins to rouse 
himself.  David and I watch as he slowly wakes, his 
body moving languorously against mine.  A sweet smile 
touches his lips as his hands slide over my chest, and 
his lips nuzzle my right breast while his fingers 
tease the left.  
	He always was a breast man, even in his mortal 
life, but then most men were in those days.  Something 
about a buxom lady, and how the soft mounds felt when 
you held them in your hands and buried your face in 
them.  The smell, the heat, the memories from 
babehood.  When he went to the brothels, he always 
favored the heavy chested women.  I know because I 
loved to follow him, loved to watch him in his mortal 
passion.  I'll have you know that in the numerous 
times I observed him with a whore, he never once 
allowed her to completely undress him.  Clothes were 
only removed if necessary, and other items were merely 
opened or pushed out of the way.  No, his complete 
nakedness was my own to discover, and I wouldn't see 
it for many years, and then only by accident.  Hard to 
believe I could have been relishing the sight of it 
almost immediately if I'd just been kind.
	I'm brought back to the present by the shock of 
his delicate tongue licking my nipple.  He's still not 
fully awake, nor fully aware that we are no longer 
alone, and I am faced with a dilemma.  If I let him 
continue, he will go further and really embarrass 
himself when he realizes that he is making a wanton 
display in front of David, but if I wake him he will 
stop what he is doing.  After wrestling with myself 
for a few moments, I gently shake him.
	"Louis, cher, Beautiful One, we aren't alone," I 
inform, letting my voice rumble deep in my throat.
	The sound of my voice gives him pause and he 
slowly opens his eyes, coming to full consciousness.  
He blinks, his eyes scanning the room, his brow 
furrowed, and sits up suddenly.  The covers fall and 
pool around his slender hips, baring his chest and 
back to us.  He looks around, obviously confused, and 
I suddenly fear that he will consider this evening a 
mistake and change his mind.
	"Louis?" I ask uncertainly.
	He puts a hand to his head.  "How long have I 
been asleep?"
	"Not long.  An hour at most," I answer 
reasonably.
	He sees David and his eyes widen a little, then 
he blushes furiously and looks away, his hair falling 
forward to hide his face.
	"I'm sorry," David says, feeling Louis' 
embarrassment.  "I should not have interrupted.  I'll 
go..."
	"No, David, stay," I insist.  "There is much I 
want to talk to you about."
	"We can talk another time, Lestat..."
	"But I am of a mood to talk now, and you know 
me, you may not get me in this mood again for years," 
I tease lightly.
	"You just take pleasure in my discomfort," Louis 
remarks sullenly.
	I snap my head around to glare at him, rage 
blazing to the surface.  He meets my furious eyes with 
fear.  He knows immediately that he just instigated a 
fight with that mis-spoken remark.  I lift my upper 
lip, snarling.
	"I wanted him to stay because we both have 
things to say to him.  Not because I take pleasure in 
embarrassing you.  If I had wanted to do that, I could 
have let you continue with your amorous intentions 
instead of waking you up.  Who is being belligerent 
with who here, hmm?"
	He lowers his gaze in shame.  "I am.  Forgive 
me, Lestat.  It was a foolish thing to say.  Old 
habits die hard."
	I soften and reach to pull him close.  "I know.  
I forgive you.  I'm sorry for snapping.  Old habits 
are hard to break."
	He hugs me, his cheek pressed to the hard planes 
of my chest.
	"Amazing.  I don't believe what I just saw," 
David breathes.
	Louis looks up at him, smiling.  "We're going to 
love it until it is Real," he says.
	"What do you mean?" David questions.
	"What you did for us.  We're going to make it 
Real," Louis answers.
	I put my hand on David's arm.  "You were our 
skin horse.  You were the wise one who showed us the 
way."
	David shakes his head.  "I don't understand."
	"You will, when I do it for you.  I want you to 
take me back to the night I brought you over, and we 
will do what Louis and I did.  Do it all over again."
	David gives Louis a heartbreaking glance then 
shakes his head.  "No.  I couldn't..."
	"Oh not right away, David.  Louis and I have 
much to make up for, and it will be a while before I 
am able to devote the attention to you that you will 
need.  But I assure you, we will do it, and then you 
will understand," I assure.
	He smiles and nods.  "All right, Lestat.  We'll 
do it."
	I grin.  "Good, David."
	He looks away, then stands.  "And now, I really 
must go.  I have infringed upon your privacy for too 
long."
	"Don't be a stranger, David," Louis murmurs.
	"I won't."
	"I think it would be good for you to move back 
in in a couple of months," I add.
	He smiles at me and nods.  "I could do that."
	"I think we both would be happy if you did," 
Louis agrees.
	"We'll see how things are when the time comes," 
he answers.
	He bends down and kisses both of us sweetly.
	"I'll see you in few days.  If you need me, you 
know where to find me."
	"Thank you, David.  For everything," Louis 
breathes.
	He gives us another soft smile then silently 
leaves.  Then Louis turns to me, rubbing my side with 
his hand.
	"I'm sorry I thought ill of you, Lestat," he 
apologizes, contrite.  
	I give him a mock scowl.  "You should be.  You 
were picking a fight.  And in front of David!  For 
shame, Louis."
	He gives me a coy look, all wide eyed and 
innocent, but there is a twinkle of mischief behind 
those soulful emeralds.  "I know.  Tell me how I can 
earn your forgiveness."
	I think for a moment.  "Well, I was depriving 
myself of pleasures by waking you.  You could make 
that up to me."
	"Oh, I see.  Well, what was I doing?"
	"You don't remember, cher?"
	"I was half asleep."
	"Can't you take a guess?"
	He slides his body almost completely on top of 
mine.  "It could be any number of things, but I am 
certain I can improvise."
	I give him a wicked smile.  "I am certain you 
can."
	He mirrors my grin and bends his head down to 
kiss my throat.  I moan.  His long fingers dig lightly 
into my sides as he trails his mouth down my neck, 
over my collar bone and to my breast.
	"You remembered, cher," I murmur, closing my 
eyes and feeling the delicious sensation of his lips 
on my nipple.
	"Was this what I was doing?" he asks innocently, 
his breath blowing softly over my excited skin.
	"Yes."
	"Mmm.  I thought as much.  Seemed right," he 
says absently, returning to his task.
	I can stand his tender ministrations for only a 
few minutes before I pull him up, wrapping my arms 
around him and kiss him.  He yields to me, climbing 
fully atop me, our tongues wrestling, and I am full of 
heady pleasure.
	"Ohhh, mon ange..." I whisper.  "Mon velveteen 
rabbit..."
	"Am I real?" he breathes in my ear, his voice 
soft and sultry.
	"Yes..."
	"Real for always?"
	"Yes."
	Our lips meet again, hot and sweet and I am 
dizzy from it.
	"I love you, Lestat."
	"I love you, Louis."
	We cease speaking, letting our bodies and our 
actions say all the things that need to be said.  I 
draw the blankets around us, wrapping us in softness 
and warmth as Louis gives himself completely to me, 
and I give myself to him.  It's Real.  We're Real.  
And we will never be Unreal again.