SPEC: Out of the Shadows By Twilight (kitre@agora.rdrop.com) Out of the Shadows A Vampire Chronicles speculation by Twilight Have you ever noticed that in IwtV Louis gives few details as to what exactly happened just before he was bitten, and none at all about when he actually encountered Lestat for the first time? It's almost as if he were embarassed about something... Here, I try to give a deeper look. ------------------------------------------------ I stumbled out of the tavern into the dark night; the barkeeper kicked me out, you see. I cheated at cards just to start the fight that broke out and, by some rotten luck, managed to keep both my money and my life. Oh well, there were always other places. "Oh why, why did you leave me?" I didn't know if I had said this aloud or not until passerby, what few there were on the narrow, black road, started giving me strange looks. I didn't care. I had been so wrong about him. But if there was a God, why had he taken my brother, and not me? I didn't know where I wanted to go next. My steps had no direction, and on the street I had ended up walking along there was no light but that of the moon. Oh well, I could always do that, I could always follow the moon. I walked - or rather staggered, I was *very* drunk - aimlessly down the road. After awhile, it registered on my numbed mind that this was a very bad place to be alone after dark. But what did I care, that was the idea. Suddenly, out of the shadows stepped a man. I couldn't see his face, couldn't see anything as he grabbed my arm and pulled me into an alley. I couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction. I knew what was going to happen next. But it didn't happen. What I expected, when he shoved me roughly against the side of a building, was that he would pull out a knife or a gun, and I would die as I had lived - for nothing. I could see him clearly - eyes that glowed like blue fire, the faint glint of moonlight on blond hair - for a split second, before his mouth closed over mine. I struggled to get away - what was he *doing*? - but he held me fast, his body pressing mine against the wall. His lips finally parted from mine, and I made another weak attempt to escape. He only laughed softly, under his breath, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Be at ease, my sweet Louis. I am Death..." Then he tangled his fingers in my hair and tugged my head to the side, pressing his mouth to my neck. There was a brief moment of pain, and then the most incredible pleasure washed through me, like wine down my throat, like blood through my veins. "Ohhh...." I groaned, pressing against him. I heard that husky laugh again, muffled though it was against my neck. I was kissing the side of his face, and my arms wound around him as I moved against him. I was lost in the loveliest light-headed feeling of not knowing or caring who this man was, or what would happen to me. My fingers tangled in his hair and I could feel myself weakening, but I didn't care, and oh, the oblivion was *so* sweet... He finally pulled his lips away from my throat, though he didn't loosen his grip on me. He kissed me again, forcing my lips apart with his tongue. And this time, much to my own surprise, I kissed him back with abandon. I could taste my own blood on his tongue. But I could hardly move now, and I was shocked at how weak and tired I felt. I couldn't stay awake if I tried. I slumped forward in his arms, unconscious. -- I awoke in my bed at Pointe du Lac, the light of the sun streaming through the window and into my eyes. My sister, my so-called mad sister, was bathing my forehead with a rag. When I opened my eyes she cried excitedly to no one in particular, "He's awake! He's alive! Louis' alive!" I tried to remember what had happened the night before, but it was a shadow in my blurry mind. I asked my sister, "What happened? How did I..." She cut me off with her reply. "One of the slaves found you a few feet from the doorstep. The doctors can't tell what could have caused such a condition... don't *you* remember what happened?" "No..." But then I did remember. I rubbed my hand frantically over my throat, checking for the marks. They were there, on the side of my neck, two small puncture wounds about an inch apart. I suddenly remembered *everything* - the angelic blond man, the bite, all of it. A sudden feeling, a mixture of fear and longing, washed over me at the memory of the man. I wonder if he'll come back?