Louis stormed down the long gallery, furiously glancing into rooms as he passed. His gleaming black hair flew with every wild turn of his head. Almost tearing the backdoor from its hinges, he leapt to the courtyard without a thought.
Lestat plucked a single flower from the hibiscus and turned calmly.
“Where is she, Lestat?” Louis demanded. The green in his eyes paled in his rage, his full lips pulled tight over his fanged teeth.
His maker circled him, tipping his blond head to regard him thoughtfully, drawing the blossom to his nose, feeling its petals brush his cheek. His blue-gray eyes sparkled with amusement.
“She does not answer your call?”
“Don’t play with me, not where she is concerned!” Louis snarled. “What have you done with Chérie?”
Lestat did not answer, but strolled to the iron settee, lowering himself onto it and leaning on its arm. He patted the vacant space beside him.
“Relax, Louis.”
A few long strides and Louis had stabbed a finger at his maker’s chest. Lestat covered his mouth, stifling a giggle.
“One more person,” Louis said, “If just one more person tells me to relax, I’ll rip his arms off!”
His maker glared up at him, his expression instantly serious.
“Relax,” Lestat repeated with deadly calm.
Louis roared and, whirling, planted one boot on the settee. He grabbed Lestat by the lapels of his omnipresent leather jacket and hauled him off the bench.
“Where is she!”
Shoes clattered at the top of the stairs. “Dear Lord!” David uttered, calling back over his shoulder. “Armand!”
Louis ignored the intrusion as he locked with his maker, feeling his breath on his face, the challenge in his eyes.
“Do you really want this test now?” Lestat growled, his voice low, preternatural body coiled.
There was a thud of shoeleather and David’s hands were pulling on Louis’s coat. “Louis, stop!” David commanded. More scurrying on the stairs. “Armand, help me!”
“Right now, Lestat,” Louis snarled, shrugging off David. “Tell me where she is or I’ll--”
“You’ll what?” his maker spat, grinning and writhing defiantly under Armand’s straining efforts to push him onto the settee.
Louis suddenly released one hand, balled it into a fist, and drew it quickly back, only to feel arms wrap tightly around it. He dropped Lestat, striking out to throw off the grip, when he saw Daniel hanging on for all he was worth. Louis’s fist halted in mid-air and he instantly paled. Would Daniel have survived the blow?
“She’s in the penthouse!” Daniel shouted. “She’s okay! Now stop it, will you!”
Louis glared in satisfaction at Lestat and whirled to go.
His maker’s arms were at once like a vise around his waist, pulling Louis backward into his lap as they crashed onto the iron seat.
“You can’t!” Lestat said, whooping at the effort and erupting into giggles.
Louis struggled to free himself, but the others had set upon him, pinning his arms while avoiding his bared fangs.
“You can’t,” David said, out of breath. “Not on the eve of your wedding.”
Louis collapsed in Lestat’s lap, the fight suddenly going out of him. “Merde,” he muttered, running a weary hand over his face. “Dear God!” He tipped his head back and laughed incredulously. With more than a little venom, he pinched Lestat’s arm. Hard.
The giggles abruptly ceased as his maker gave a sharp cry, arms freeing him. Louis slid out of his lap, next to him on the settee, his long legs draped inanimately across Lestat’s lap.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” he asked, exasperated.
“Oh, Louis! I would, had you not hurled yourself at me in such glorious fury. Forgive me, but if you had only seen your face!” He was consumed once again in a fit of laughter.
David shook his head sternly. “Really, Lestat. This is quite inexcusable. Tormenting Louis like this, when he was so obviously distraught over Chérie’s safety.”
Armand stepped to Daniel’s side and touched his cheek lightly before turning to Lestat. “Had we known this was your surprise, we would have told Louis ourselves instead of sending him to you.”
David slipped a hand into the pocket of his dark tweed coat. “And I’m certainly regretful I ever reminded you of this little tradition.” He sought Louis’s gaze. “I am sorry.”
Louis nodded wearily.
Lestat caught his breath and smoothed the heavy denim covering Louis’s legs. He rested his hands on his fledgling’s knees. “Yes, I ought to be ashamed of myself.” His lips slowly curled into a malignant smile. “But I’m not. And if you’ll excuse us, I need to consult with the bridegroom.”
Armand and David exchanged a glance and started for the stairs. But Daniel hesitated, his brow knitted as he searched Louis’s face.
“Is this okay with you?”
Louis nodded. “Yes. I believe he’s safe from me for the moment.”
Daniel grinned and followed the others up the stairs, where Armand stood holding the door for him. The auburn-haired vampire nodded to Louis before letting the door close.
Lestat stared vacantly at the fountain. “Safe, am I?” He shook his head. “I have never been safe from you.” He shrugged and sought Louis’s gaze. “I’ll deny it if you repeat this, of course, but I am sorry, Louis. I had only meant to see if you would remember this little tradition.”
“One you yourself had not remembered.”
His maker grinned. “You, even more than David, cherish these niceties and I wanted you to have the opportunity to show off.”
“Or mercilessly lord it over me when I did not remember.”
“Yes. I am a fool for it, I suppose.” Lestat studied his hands absently. “I had not accounted for your concern, however, and I hope you know that, barring some drastic and unforeseen turn in her character, I would do everything in my power to protect Chérie from harm.”
Louis swung his legs off Lestat’s lap and sat upright. “Yes, I know.” He sighed deeply. “You never set out to directly harm us. But sometimes these little dramas of yours take unanticipated twists and hurt nonetheless. Being consumed in flames in that car in San Francisco. Buried alive at the Théâtre des Vampires.”
His maker was uncommonly silent, his expression pained.
“I hold no animosity over these incidents, Lestat. There were any number of choices I could have made to avoid them. I enjoy your excitement, your passion.” Louis touched Lestat’s powerful hands. “There is one, though, that you’ve never recognized and I will speak of it.”
“I have felt every one of your hurts,” Lestat said.
Louis searched that face he knew so well, eyes lingering on the scars visible still under the unyielding, tanned flesh.
“Except one. When you came to me, mortal through the auspices of that contemptible body thief, begging for the Dark Blood, you forced me to envision your death. Your very real mortal death.” Sorrow suffused him, and from Lestat’s rapt expression he knew it was visible in his face. He willed himself not to blush. “I saw you laid out in the coffin. Not in peace, as we sleep. Not beautiful and radiant as you are now, but decayed, rotting, worm-ridden. Withered by age. Gone forever. Lost in the earth, never to greedily claw your way to the surface again.” A tear gathered and he blinked it back.
“Oh, Louis. That is not what I wanted.”
“From the story I heard that night in my little house, yes, that is what you wanted. The vampire that I was, the weakest of us all who was without vision, would never make another and yet, knowing this, you came to me for the Dark Gift. And envisioning your death, I had no choice but to accept it, embrace it as your unspoken desire. My love for you was nothing if I entrapped you, valued my loss higher than what I saw as your need. That night, I buried the Lestat who had given me joy beyond measure.”
They fell silent, watching the satiny cascade of water flowing from the fountain’s shell.
A smile slowly spread across Louis’s face.
“The vampire that I am would not make that choice, of course. I would drink deeply and without hesitation, relishing every moment of your transformation.”
Lestat laughed. “Have a bit of your own back.”
Louis’s expression hardened, incredulous. “My God, Lestat! Will you never understand? I would watch your eyes come alive. See the wonder of this dark magic fill your soul. Your joy over feeling this power again would be my joy.” He ran a long finger over his brow. “I never needed you to reveal these mysteries, only to know you saw them as well. It makes them real, and all the more precious.”
Amusement curled his maker’s lips. “So selfless.” He reached to brush back the black hair, but Louis pushed his hand away. Lestat sighed. “I cannot be this way. I do because I want to do.”
“And I would not want you any other way. I would find you as dull and uninteresting as myself.” Louis let out a sharp laugh. “What a dreary thought!”
Lestat shook his mop of blond curls. “You have never been dreary, Louis. Boring at times, I’ll admit, but that’s my failing. Always there burned a fire within you that I found intoxicating, irresistible.” His voice lowered. “Shamefully alluring.”
Louis’s laughter startled his maker. “Shame, Lestat? Like the shame you felt on that stage in San Francisco? The adoration satisfies you like nothing else. Why is it that we see this so clearly and love you all the more because of it, yet you cannot?”
He paused, listening to the din of the Quarter rising around them with the deepening of the night. The raucous sounds of that night years earlier thundered through his mind as he continued.
“I was there to see it. Mortals might not believe, but I knew what I watched, Lestat. I knew. The fear you did not feel crushed me when you trotted onto that stage. So vulnerable, so utterly naked in revealing your need, to me if to no one else. I saw when it shook you, the realization that any holy war against us was trivial next to the performance.” He shook his head in awe. “This moment comes far earlier for most of us. My God, how poignant to see you embrace that knowledge and continue! Such burning desire! For three hours you fed on their adulation as if it were blood and I was intimate with every rise and fall of your pulse.”
Lestat was sitting upright, motionless, a distant gleam in his eyes. “Vicarious thrills, Louis?”
He shrugged. “To some extent, yes, because your craving was palpable.” Louis reached out and gingerly touched his maker’s hair, the strands curling softly around his fingers, shimmering. “The far deeper ecstasy was knowing you were being pleasured, driven to rapture in the manner you most desired.”
A shudder passed through his maker and when he spoke, his voice was the barest whisper. “It mattered that you were with me, that from your arms I gained release to mount that stage. I knew you were watching. The show was for you.”
His fingers froze. “For me, Lestat?” Louis asked quietly, though his heart skipped a beat.
“There was really little chance those mortals would react any differently than they did.” Lestat gave a little laugh. “Oh, I hungered for every decibel of their innocent wailing. But you? My Louis? My precious Louis. I could feel your excitement backstage, your heart pounding louder than fifteen thousand mortals.” He shook his yellow hair and let out a contented sigh. “And all I could do was kiss you.”
Louis blushed. “I remember that kiss.”
His maker grinned. “Then I was on stage, feeling your eyes on my every move. God, how I loved it!”
Louis had known this feeling recently, when Chérie’s eyes followed him with such unconcealed affection. He nodded. “And I loved watching you. But more than that, there was almost a divine splendor in your seeming lack of fear.” Amusement filled his gaze. “Of course, this works against you more often than not. But not that night.” Wonder lighted his expression. “That night you were glorious.”
He sat quietly, the sheer presence of Lestat marvelous, the strength, beauty, and humor nearly irresistible. Louis felt the attraction as keenly as he ever had, yet he was satisfied in the company of his maker in this beautifully familiar setting. The birds of paradise with their surreal bills of vermilion and cerulean. The soothing music of the fountain. Lestat’s enormous stand of bananas. The rich perfume of the old roses he himself had planted. Warm and fuzzy, Chérie would say.
“Merciful detachment,” Lestat murmured with a little laugh and glanced at his fledgling. “Was there ever a bigger lie?”
“Never,” Louis readily agreed.
“And the fiasco of this evening? Do you forgive me?”
“Of course.” A smile played on his lips. “But you should have warned me, you old goat.”
Lestat laughed, the sound as of the peals of bells. “As you are so fond of reminding me, I am but six years older than you.” He draped his arm behind Louis, along the back of the settee. “Oh, Louis. Has simply being alive ever been easier?”
Shaking his head slowly, Louis patted his maker’s knee. “Never.” He searched Lestat’s face, smiling when the blond brows furrowed and the blue-gray eyes lighted in confusion.
“What is it, Louis?”
“Thank you,” he said simply.
Lestat’s scowl deepened, but laughter sat poised on his determined lips. “What on earth for?”
“For giving me the Dark Gift. I suddenly realized I had never thanked you for giving me this life.” He hesitated, studying his hands in his lap, his expression softening as his affection welled. “My father,” he whispered.
Lestat’s hand went to his heart. “Louis! You’ve never called me that.” He quickly shook his head. “Please don’t start now. I should weep whenever I heard it.”
“Hopelessly sentimental.”
“Like hell I am!” But Lestat laughed, shifting his arm from the settee to Louis’s shoulders. “You understand me better than anyone.”
“I tolerate you better than anyone,” Louis corrected with a wink. “It’s Chérie who understands you.”
Lestat’s eyebrows raised thoughtfully and his fingers delicately traced the lines of his lips. “Yes, she is a mystery. For one so young, she reads me remarkably well.”
“It’s not such a mystery, Lestat,” Louis said. “She had five books to draw upon and her domain was the logical. Chérie knew us long before we met.”
Murmuring his agreement, Lestat smiled. “And you’ve told her more since then, as have I.” He gave his fledgling a squeeze and rose. “I should be more cautious but she does delight so in listening.”
“She loves you, Lestat.” He smiled. “And you do love to go on and on.”
Lestat circled the little enclosed paradise before unfurling a finger. “Logic, yes. I must remember to consult our Chérie more often.”
Louis stood, hooking his thumbs casually in the pockets of his jeans. “Which reminds me. You wanted to consult me on something?”
His maker shook his head quickly and shrugged, turning his back and studying the bougainvillea. “I wanted only to apologize privately.” He wandered over to let his fingers trail through the sprays of tiny blossoms covering the Queen’s Wreath.
Louis quietly laughed. “The day will come when you can no longer maintain this veneer and it will crumble around you like old plaster.” He saw Lestat’s shoulders tense and he continued softly, slowly drawing near his maker as if he was a wild bird. “It is already peeling, mon bien-aimé. When it does, I hope I will be there, to assure you that Lestat will always be Lestat.” He could smell his maker’s hair as he stood behind him, carefully wrapping his arms around the cold leather and burying his face in the blond mass. “No outpouring of kindness can change my Lestat.”
He felt the tension flow out of his maker as Lestat leaned against him. Louis pressed his lips against the yellow hair and quietly strode to the stairs, taking them swiftly and stepping onto the long gallery. He paused after the door closed and breathed a deep sigh before seeking the quiet of his rooms.
Louis had meant to slip into his bedroom but found himself turning into his study and sliding into the chair behind the computer. He glanced at the candle on the desk and it flamed to life. He found Chérie’s notepad and, from the paragraph she had scribbled there, he extracted the necessary passwords. He scowled at himself until the video clip finally disappeared.
It was a dangerous game he was playing with Lestat. No game at all, really. He could not forget Maharet’s ominous warning that the world might change when whatever Lestat was going through culminated. It frightened him. Louis did not understand how these things would come to pass, or even how long it would take. Years, decades, centuries...it didn’t matter. He knew with certainty that when it happened Lestat would need him as he had never needed another. And it might take every minute to build the trust necessary for Lestat to feel he could utterly depend upon him, even for one brief moment. Louis knew he needed to earn that friendship. There were too many times he had abandoned his maker.
He returned Chérie’s notepad to its haphazard position and selected a document labeled for his typing practice. He was prompted for a password and he typed a random-seeming set of characters. Should anyone stumble upon the document, they would certainly dismiss the password as modesty on his part.
Louis smiled. There were some strategic advantages in being a living legend. He immediately blushed.
The first and last ten pages of the file were indeed covered with innocuous sentences riddled with typographical errors. But between these sections, he kept a diary of his encounters with Lestat. They weren’t calculated, by any measure. He simply took every opportunity his maker gave him to say how he felt, what he thought, forcing himself to completely disregard how angered these revelations had made Lestat in the past. Rapidly and accurately his long fingers moved over the keyboard, setting out his thoughts. When he had finished, he scrolled to the document’s top, saved, and closed the file.
He was about to engage the screen saver when he noticed a music disc was in the drive. Louis smiled and chose the player application. He laughed when he saw Chérie had the disc set to play his song continuously. Why not? Clicking a button, the music wafted from the speakers. He navigated through a series of folders until he found their catalog of videos and selected one. Pulling the appropriate tape from the rack behind him when prompted, he slid it into the device tethered to the computer, and set the video running silently.
Louis’s eyes sparkled and he pressed a thumb to his lips. He had shot the little video out in the courtyard and it had taken a moment to train the lens on Chérie, sitting on the damp flagstones beside the fountain. As the camera moved around her, she had turned and smiled up at him. Her lips moved silently and Louis smiled, remembering the stream of endearments she’d spoken, en français. Suddenly, Glennie romped into view, disappearing below the camera’s range momentarily as she rubbed against his legs playfully. She quickly loped back into the frame and began ignominiously bathing Chérie’s face. Chérie pushed the wiry fur back from Glennie’s eyes and rubbed the big deerhound’s ears vigorously.
The camera followed as they romped. Then Mojo had joined in and both canines soon had Chérie rolling on the ground in a fit of laughter. She sat upright suddenly and stared up at the flat, nodding and speaking rapidly. She made a quick gesture, calling Mojo to her, and she promptly nuzzled into his deep, soft fur. She stuck her tongue out and quickly fell back laughing as Lestat appeared before her, crouched on one knee. He wagged a finger at her while Mojo panted happily, wriggling for her continued attention. Up flew Lestat’s hands in consternation and he pleaded with Mojo.
The blond head whirled suddenly and the camera pulled back to reveal Glennie sniffing at his jeans. Lestat lost his balance and tumbled over, grabbing Chérie as he went and rolling her away from Mojo. He went into a crouch again just as Mojo pounced on him, knocking him back down. Glennie took Mojo’s lead and they soon had Lestat, giggling uncontrollably, thoroughly bathed and groomed. Chérie rescued him, pulling her maker onto her lap and shooing away the dogs.
Lestat played for the camera, pressing a weary hand to his forehead and leaning on Chérie heavily. She rolled her eyes over his shallow performance and leapt to her feet, her maker in her arms. Lestat kicked his feet in mock-protest and pleaded with the camera for aid. Chérie raised her eyebrows lustily and hauled him out of the camera’s range.
Louis laughed and stopped the tape. He lifted the telephone and pressed the number for the penthouse. He may not be able to see her but he didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t talk. Jesse answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Louis! What was going on over there earlier? We could hear you all the way up here.”
“Vocal coach. He said my accent disappeared when I shouted so I was practicing.” He laughed. “May I speak with Chérie, please?”
“A likely story. Hang on a second and let me check.”
She dropped the phone before he could say anything more. In the background he heard the harmonies of feminine voices. Gabrielle and Jesse saying no, Chérie pleading, and a masculine voice taking her side. Maharet said yes, and Chérie was instantly on the phone.
“Louis!”
“I miss you, my love.” Static crackled on the line. “Are you on the cordless?”
“Very definitely.” Her voice strained as he heard wood against wood and metallic clicking. “There. I’m on the terrace and for a few minutes, we’re safe.” She sighed. “God, I love you, Louis!”
“And I love you. This is torture, you realize.”
“Is that what you were screaming about earlier? They had me locked in the bathroom and put up the most God-awful visions or I would have been there. What happened?”
“Lestat wouldn’t tell me where you were. I didn’t remember this idiocy about not seeing you before the wedding and I’m afraid I became a little impatient.”
She giggled. “Impatient? Louis, it sounded like you were murdering someone.”
Louis smiled and lowered his voice seductively. “Ah, but you know I’m very quiet when I kill.”
Chérie snorted. “I can’t believe you said that!”
He laughed. “I am sorry, my love. It was an atrocious thing to say.”
“Yes, but it was funny. Now what else happened?” she asked suspiciously. “You rarely raise your voice so there must be more.”
“He told me to relax once too often and I...I...”
“Snapped? Lost it? Flipped out?”
“Yes, thank you. All of those and more. I almost hit him, Chérie. I can’t believe I was so near to hurting him.”
“Oh, Louis. What stopped you?”
“Daniel, bless his heart. He seized my hand and told me you were up there. Then when I would come to you, they swarmed over me until David reminded me of this ridiculous tradition.”
“How close did you actually come to duking notre père?”
“I had him in my hands. I was completely prepared to do battle with him, and it did not matter that I knew, dear God, I knew I could hurt him.”
“You could feel that?”
Louis nodded. “Oh yes.”
“Any problems with fire?”
He was startled by the question. “No. Why do you ask?”
“Lestat wrote of being worried about it when he was angry.”
“I see. No, this power has been surprisingly easy for me to control. But then I don’t have Lestat’s temper.”
“And what of Lestat? Did he just sit there and take it?”
“For the most part, yes.” Louis furrowed his brow. “Strange, but he was uncommonly passive until Armand had ahold of him.”
Chérie sighed. “He was studying you. Gauging how strong you’d become.”
Louis groaned. “And I...fell for it.”
“Hook, line, and sinker, my love.” She laughed lightly. “Don’t feel so bad. For centuries, almost everything he’s done has been a fight. And it was probably an afterthought, simply because he had the opportunity.”
“Yes, of course. Still, a horrific way to start the evening.” Louis laughed. “And how has yours been? Did I tell you how terribly I miss you?”
Chérie laughed. “Why, yes you did but it’s good to hear again because I miss you even more.”
“Impossible!” He sighed. “You have no idea how I long to hold you in my arms. To run my fingers through your glistening hair and over every inch of your lustrous skin. To taste your silky lips--”
“Oh my,” she breathed.
“To run my tongue along the satiny curves of your neck, feeling your blood running hot beneath your--”
“Enough! Stop it please, Louis!” She laughed, but he could hear the hunger in her lush alto. “I love it, but there’s nothing to be done about it tonight. Tomorrow,” she promised.
“And tomorrow and tomorrow.”
“That’s my line,” Lestat said, stepping into the study and falling into the chair across the desk. He scowled at his fledgling. “And what are you doing on the phone?”
“My love,” Louis said into the telephone, ignoring his maker. “I seem to have been discovered. Hide the phone. Call me later.”
“I will. Take the cell phone in the top drawer and tell Lestat I said to play nice. Oh, Louis. I dread lying down to sleep without you.”
“We’ll talk before then. I love you, Chérie.”
“And I, you. Until later.”
“Yes, my love.” He hung up the telephone. Tipping the big chair, he leaned back and let his hair hang loose, his neck stretched taut.
“The loneliness is terrible,” Lestat said quietly.
“Agony.”
The desk started ringing and Louis sat up with a start, yanking the top drawer open, and engaging the little cell phone.
“Just me,” Chérie said brightly. “For a moment I couldn’t remember the number. Now I have it on redial. Later, my love.”
Louis laughed as she hung up. He flipped the phone closed and slid it into his pocket. The joy fell slowly from his face and he looked up at his maker.
“Agony.”
“Yes,” Lestat said kindly. “Now will you please turn off that song?”
Louis had forgotten it was playing. Clicking the player, he ejected the disc and returned it to its box, leaning against the computer.
“Just what were you doing in here, Louis?”
He gave his shoulders a shrug. “Practicing my typing, then I saw the disc in the drive.” He grinned. “And I watched a video.”
“I need to upgrade,” his maker muttered, swinging out of the chair and circling the desk. “Which one?”
“‘The Perils of Pollyanna.’”
“Again? And that’s Pauline, not Pollyanna.” Lestat tugged Louis’s sleeve and grinned. “But for you, Pollyanna fits. Play it.”
Louis gently pulled his maker onto his lap and started the video. Together they watched, Lestat giggling when Mojo knocked him down.
“No loyalty.”
Louis smiled.
“Nimble, and such strength,” Lestat said when the video showed Chérie hoisting him.
Louis reached out a long arm and clicked off the video. He tipped the chair back, holding Lestat so they wouldn’t be jarred.
“Always testing us, aren’t you?” Louis pushed the hair away from his maker’s face so he could see the corner of his eye. “Or are you testing yourself? To see what fine children you have wrought?”
“Something like that,” Lestat whispered. He shifted to sit across Louis’s lap, stretching out his jean-clad legs and leaning into the crook of his fledgling’s arm. “You tried to hurt me tonight.”
“Yes,” Louis admitted. “And you just sat there. Why?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “As angry as you were, any defense on my part would have forced you to act before the others arrived. My best choice was to do nothing until they could pull you off me.” He shrugged. “As strong as you are now, I would have needed to cause you great pain before I could stop you.”
Louis regarded him skeptically. “How do you know this?”
“I know,” Lestat said. “I know your body almost as well as I know my own.” He reached behind his head and drew Louis’s arm from around his shoulders. He held out his left arm. “Hold my arm, just above the wrist. Not too tightly, just enough so you can feel each of the muscles tense.” When Louis did as he asked, Lestat made a fist, squeezed it tighter, and then relaxed. He glanced at Louis.
“Yes, I can feel that.”
Lestat nodded and held open his left hand. “Good. Now give me your other hand.” He gently wrapped his fingers around Louis’s hand. “This is going to take some trust on your part, Louis. I will not hurt you, but I’m going to come very close to it. If you try to pull your hand away, you may dislocate a finger or worse.” He glanced up to ensure Louis understood. “Focus on this hand,” he patted the hand on his arm, “and try to determine when I’m straining, using more pressure. Ready?”
Louis nodded once and immediately he felt his hand crushing in his maker’s grip.
“Don’t pull away, Louis,” Lestat warned calmly. “Focus.”
He tried to ignore the growing pressure and feel any change in Lestat’s arm. There was none and the flesh was hammered between his bones. Still nothing and yet he was sure the thin bones in his fingers were close to snapping. His lips curled back as the pain increased and the muscles remained as relaxed as ever.
Suddenly the pressure ceased and he watched his maker draw his bruised hand to his lips, pressing their silken surface to each finger in turn.
“You have an enormous capacity for pain, Louis. I’m sorry I bruised you. But I need you to understand how much danger you put yourself in tonight.” Lestat’s eyes were seething as they locked onto Louis’s but there was no trace of anger in his voice. “You lost control in the face a vampire you knew was stronger than yourself. I can kill with a thought, and I have. You know this, Louis!” He took a deep breath, restoring his calm. “There are maybe a handful of us who are stronger than you now, so I don’t want you to doubt your own power. But of those whose names are known to you, only Gabrielle is unquestionably less powerful, and she is still strong enough to do you damage. I had thought Daniel was, as well, but now I’m certain he simply hides his talents with remarkable skill. He and the others have strength similar to yours, but they all have other gifts. I don’t know their degree.”
Louis furrowed his brow. Idle speculation on the powers of the others was a common enough topic, but never had it turned into a serious discussion.
“Why do you tell me this, Lestat? You have been careful never to reveal the true extent of your powers to anyone.”
Pain crossed his maker’s face. “You wound me, Louis. I tell you because I love you and I will not see you endanger yourself in ignorance. I love you! And I’m sick of only telling you that while you sleep.” Blood tears spilled down his face. “Merde!”
Louis slipped his arm back around Lestat as his maker swiped at his eyes. Lestat stared forlornly at the blood on his palm. He showed it to Louis.
“You wound me and I bleed.” He raised his hand to lick away the blood, but Louis caught his wrist, oblivious to his bruised fingers.
The deep attraction suddenly consumed him. He slowly drew Lestat’s hand to his mouth and let his tongue cover the blood stain before his full lips closed on the fleshy mound, sucking the spot clean.
A sigh escaped his maker’s lips. “Kiss me, Louis.”
Louis’s bruised hand reached for the back of Lestat’s neck and drew his face close, pausing long enough to feel the breath fall on his lips before closing his mouth on Lestat’s. His maker’s tongue lingered on his lips before slipping past and finding what it sought, lightly brushing Louis’s tongue, teasing, sliding delicately over Louis’s sharp fangs, pressing dangerously against their tips.
Louis opened his eyes to see his maker’s gaze on him. He was lost in the blue depths as he slowly closed his jaw, hesitating only an instant before piercing Lestat’s tongue. Lestat’s lips tightened briefly against his and then the taste of blood filled his mouth. Louis’s lids fell shut as he sucked from his maker’s tongue, feeling him tremble. The tiny flow of blood sent tingles shooting through Louis’s body.
The flow stopped and he ran his tongue over Lestat’s lips, caressing their silken texture. Feeling them part, inviting him into the delicious warmth, Louis breathing as his maker breathed. He found the glossy and lethal teeth, so tantalizingly sharp, and sought again the blue eyes. They sparked fiercely. Lestat penetrated the tender flesh once, twice, three times. The pain was exquisite as his maker’s eyes rolled shut and his scalding mouth closed about Louis’s tongue, the intimate pulling, the taste of his blood melding with Lestat’s. Just a taste and the flow stopped. His tongue lingered over Lestat’s lips, dampening them only to suck them dry again. And again.
Slowly, more air separated their kisses and Louis’s lips sought out the deep scars in his maker’s face, tenderly kissing every one he recognized, until his head was resting on the broad plane of Lestat’s shoulder, his maker gently kissing the slope of his neck. They held each other a long time, the steady beating of Lestat’s heart comforting.
“I love you, Louis.”
A sigh escaped Louis’s lips, the words spreading warm, like blood through his veins. “Such joy it gives me hearing those words from you, Lestat,” he whispered, letting his hand slide down until it covered his maker’s heart. “Do you feel it here?” He felt the head shake slightly.
“A little more to your left. Yes, and higher. There.”
“A tightness here?”
He felt Lestat’s tiny nod and Louis smiled, kissing his maker’s shoulder. “Yes, that is where I feel it, as well.” He raised his head and looked at the place where his hand rested, memorizing the spot. He gently kissed his maker’s sensuous lips before pushing the yellow hair away from the blue-gray eyes.
“I love you, Lestat.” His eyes briefly dropped to his hand. “I have always felt this for you.”
Lestat smiled. “I have something I’d like to do with you, Louis. Come with me to the back parlor?” He pivoted and rose, holding his hand for his fledgling.
Louis took it eagerly and followed. As Lestat pushed the doors wide, Louis was delighted to see the room awash in candlelight. He glanced at his maker to see him backing away across the room, bowing like a cavalier. Lestat turned to flick open the armoire, the smaller compartment, and extracted a compact disc.
“First, I want to dance with you, Louis. An entire dance.” Lestat pressed the master switch and fitted the disc into place, programming the song with his fingers.
“We may have a slight problem, then. Who shall lead?” Louis smiled broadly.
“Not that kind of dance.” He was halfway to Louis when the music rose, Age of Innocence, Lestat’s ballad. “Ignore that I was so full of shit when I wrote this,” he said, smiling, as he wrapped an arm around Louis and took his hand.
Louis laughed aloud and held him close as they slowly turned to the music, cheeks pressed together. “I was always touched that you went with the harpsichord on this song,” he said quietly, feeling his maker smile in return.
And Lestat began singing softly in his ear. Only for him.
Louis’s lids fell closed as he listened, breathlessly, to his maker’s tenor fill his mind.
“I need to write new lyrics for this, really,” Lestat whispered during one of the changes. He continued when the recording did, with the old words. And as the last phrase faded, he kissed Louis quickly on the cheek and pulled away enough to peer into his dark green eyes.
“Do you see me now, Louis?”
“Yes.”
“Rather crude, I suppose,” Lestat said. “But it was the only way I could call you so you would hear me, so you would hear my voice.” He searched Louis’s rapt gaze. “And do you know what you see?”
“Yes.”
Lestat watched him, waiting.
“You are not yet ready to know what I see. For now I can only say that I see love, and trust that to your interpretation.” Louis smiled softly and touched his maker’s face. “Do not be frightened. I will do everything in my power to protect you from harm. As will Chérie. And together we three are more powerful than anything.”
Lestat laughed. “Impossible fledglings!” But there was no comprehension in his face.
“Yes, now what is it you wanted to do? Armand saw my hunger and wanted me to go with him tonight.”
His maker waved his hand at the room. “You’re fasting and he has already gone.” He turned and strode to the armoire, removing his disc and replacing it with another.
Louis grinned when Haydn’s Double Concerto for Violin and Harpsichord played. “You know about this?”
Lestat nodded and crossed toward the harpsichord, beckoning him to follow. “For quite some time.”
“One of those things you and Chérie discuss while watching sunsets?” Louis raised an eyebrow.
His maker grinned and punched him playfully on the arm. “You’re jealous!”
“Only a little.”
Lestat invited him to sit at the instrument and, as he did so, Louis noticed a violin case beyond the row of candles. He glanced up at his maker.
“Tell me you’re kidding! When did you get that?”
“Recently. I haven’t had the heart to pick one up since Akasha destroyed Nicki’s, but when Chérie confided her love for this piece, I knew I must.”
Louis’s eyes grew wide. “It’s not a duet, Lestat.”
“Well, let’s try it and see how it sounds. Come on! I’ll be the frontman, so all you need do is sit quietly and play. No performing.”
“This is worse than all that practicing with the ring,” Louis grumbled.
Lestat’s mouth fell open. “That went off without a hitch! What are you talking about? And you won’t have any lines with this, if that makes you feel any better. So lighten up!”
Louis glared at him. “That sounds vaguely like ‘relax.’”
“Get over it, Louis. Just warm up, will you!”
Annoyed, Louis’s fingers moved over the keys, his right hand haltingly, repeating scales and then varying them. He was already picking out portions of the second movement when Lestat started tuning the violin.
“Not exactly a Strad, but it will do,” Lestat said, shaking his hair out and tossing it back from his face. “Let’s play.”
The music halted and the first movement restarted.
“Allegro moderato,” Lestat said, listening to the opening. “We’ll need to improvise over the strings. We’ll ignore it for now and concentrate on the featured instruments.”
And for the first hour, they went back and forth over the piece, until they had a rough feel for the work. The allegro moderato was easily the showcase, but they chose the second movement, the largo, because the play between violin and harpsichord was far greater. And for its sparing use of strings.
For the second hour, they focused on the second movement and had played two flawless passes by the time Louis rose from the harpsichord.
“How is your hand, Louis?” Lestat asked as he closed the case on the violin.
He made a fist and flexed the fingers of his right hand. “A little stiff, but the bruising is gone.” He started extinguishing the candles.
“I am sorry about that,” Lestat said. “I hadn’t counted on you holding out that long.” He walked to the armoire and turned off the system before joining Louis at the door.
Together they strolled down the long gallery.
“With all the arrivals at the penthouse, will Armand and Daniel remain there?”
Lestat shook his head. “They moved over this evening, into my rooms. David’s rooms are as he left them and I’ve set up something for Marius under the rafters with me. Santino insisted on making his own arrangements.” He grinned. “I would not want to be mortal and walking Lafayette Cemetery tonight.”
“And Khayman?”
“Staying with Mekare, for some reason.” Lestat shrugged.
They stepped into the front parlor to find David and Marius chatting amiably. Both vampires rose in Louis’s honor and he returned their kindness with a bow.
Marius promptly had Lestat in hand. “You are looking splendid, my boy. I understand you had a somewhat close shave this evening.”
Louis ignored his maker’s giggling. “I’m afraid that was my error entirely. My anxiety over these whole proceedings got the better of me and I reacted badly. Lestat has generously forgiven me.” He bowed to his maker, which set him off even more. Louis smiled.
Marius shook his head. “Eloquent as always, Louis. By the by, I did a little checking and this is indeed a unique occasion. All references I could find to vampire weddings turned out to be simple, ritualistic sharing of blood.”
“Chérie will be pleased to learn this. And do recover your seats. You’ll excuse me, but I’ve been sitting for two hours and I cannot sit a moment longer.”
“Of course,” David said, returning to the divan. He waited until Marius was seated before sitting himself. “Now tell us. What was that piece you were playing? We heard it as we passed the parlor door and it was lovely.”
Lestat had recovered enough to speak. “It’s an obscure Haydn piece, a favorite of Chérie’s. The Concerto in F major for Violin, Harpsichord, and Strings.” He lowered himself beside David.
“A concerto? Really?” David’s brow furrowed. “It works rather well as a duet.”
“Yes, doesn’t it?” Lestat grinned at Louis, leaning against the marble mantelpiece. “It was necessary to murder the string section, unfortunately, but it holds its own without them. And we are doing only the one movement.”
Marius smiled. “A surprise, then? For Chérie?”
Lestat nodded. “Yes, we thought she would enjoy it.”
“Lestat is again being generous,” Louis interjected. “This was entirely his idea.”
“That may be, Louis, but I certainly could not play both parts. You mustn’t be so modest.”
“You’re playing the violin?” Marius asked.
Lestat shrugged. “I know the instrument. Two hundred years made almost no difference. And Louis has a decided affinity for the harpsichord.”
The bell rang.
“Get that, will you, Louis,” Lestat said.
Louis crossed his arms. “I’m fairly certain greeting guests falls within the realm of the best man.”
Lestat hauled himself to his feet and strode to the French windows. “I’ll take the shortcut,” he growled, and dropped over the balcony.
“Bravo, Louis!” David said. “Keep him in line.”
Louis laughed and took a chair beside Marius. “That has been exceedingly easy in recent years.” He glanced at Marius. “Compared to years past, of course.”
“Well, it seems as if he will be starting the next century in far better shape than he did this one,” Marius said.
“Indeed. And I don’t know about you, Marius, but I could do with a hundred years of this,” Louis said. “For the past two years, he has been a delight.” He stroked his brow absently. “I do worry what he’ll do once Chérie and I are off on our honeymoon.”
David nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should stay close for a while. Has he revealed his plans for your wedding trip?”
Louis smiled. “No. That is the one detail he has yet to divulge. Chérie has never been out of the country, so it will be interesting regardless of where we end up.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Lestat said, striding into the room and standing aside for Eric to pass.
Louis rose and warmly embraced the brown-eyed vampire. “I thought that was your voice I heard on the telephone. Please,” he indicated the divan. “Be seated and tell me how Chérie is faring.”
Eric sat and leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees. “I carry a message. They found the phone, I’m afraid, so Chérie may not be able to call. Don’t be disheartened, however. They are not impassable.” He smiled and his expression filled with warmth. “Chérie bade me, ‘Tell him I love him.’” He glanced up at Lestat, hovering over Louis. “And for you, she also gave me a message, for she feared Louis would not pass it along. ‘Play nice!’ she has commanded.”
Lestat grinned mischievously. “I always play nice.” He laid a hand on Louis’s shoulder and leaned close to his fledgling. “Don’t I, mon petit?”
Louis covered his maker’s hand with his. “Mais oui, mon père.” He smiled as he felt Lestat tense.
“Cheap shot, Louis,” Lestat said softly, straightening but leaving his hand in Louis’s grasp.
Eric’s eyes twinkled. “I see you two have recovered from earlier events.” He settled back on the divan. “Chérie will be relieved.”
Lestat squeezed Louis’s shoulder. “Before Louis takes all responsibility onto himself again, I’m afraid I must admit I goaded him mercilessly.”
“Still, I should not have lost my temper.” Louis turned his attention back to Eric. “They have not kept Chérie locked up all night, I hope.”
Eric shook his head. “No, but they have been busy up there.” He smiled. “I’d forgotten the chorus so many feminine voices could raise.”
Louis smiled and would have asked another question, but David interceded.
“Our dear Louis should not be privy to their activities, I fear.” David nodded to Marius. “We were just discussing an interesting prospect. With the work I’ve been doing on Maharet’s Great Family, I began to wonder if there might not be lurking another great family among our kind.”
“Yes,” Marius said, scooting back in his chair. “For those of us,” he gestured to Eric, “with a thousand years or more, this might prove impossible. Far too many records have been destroyed since we were mortal. Even for Amadeo and Santino, this may be difficult.”
David nodded. “I know with certainty that I have fathered no children.”
“Nor I,” Louis said, warming to the subject and sensing immediately where it would lead. “My mortal liaisons were in the main restricted to the plantations and I was in a position that I could not be unaware of any resultant children. They would necessarily have been noted in the ledgers.” He smiled when David paled at his candor.
David hurriedly concealed his shock. “I forget how utterly infantile I am in this company. My apologies, Louis.”
Louis waved it away. “A completely valid reaction, David. You lived in relatively fortunate times. The topic was fresh in my mind, at any rate.” He felt Lestat’s hand slide off his shoulder. “Now, Chérie has no children, I know.” He leaned forward. “Daniel is a possibility, of course, but that is greatly lessened in the face of modern contraceptives.”
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Marius agreed. “And that leaves us to the House de Lioncourt, does it not? Our dear Marquise, of course, had many children.”
Lestat had wandered to sit before the spinet. He slowly raised the cover from the keys. His fingers gently touched the ivory slats, stroking them lovingly and they sighed in ecstasy under his ministrations, giving up their music to him.
Louis watched awestruck. His maker’s every motion seemed lost in time, forever in their cycle of unfurling and curling. Lestat’s gaze was clouded as he’d never witnessed, sparkling violet and gray and blue, the precious blue, fixed on the candleflame dancing, flickering atop the piano.
“All dead,” Lestat said softly. “Five, as children. Only myself and two elder brothers reached maturity.” An amber light crept into his gaze, and he let out a laugh. “Maturity.” He gently tore his eyes from the flame and cast them upon his fingers moving steadily over the keys. His lids closed and his lips parted as the music grew.
“And your brothers?” Eric said, his voice strangely like the fledgling melody rising from the instrument.
Lestat’s head swiveled slowly atop his shoulders. “Dead, murdered by the peasants and tenants, come to steal the rusting artifacts that littered my father’s house.” He drew his fingers away from the keys, letting them fall into his lap. A great sigh welled within him and he turned on the bench. “And their children, all dead. Only my father escaped the Terror alive, to a filthy little house in the Rue Dumaine, which is were I found him.”
David nodded. “All in your books, of course. But is there a chance they--”
“Sired bastards?” Lestat said, cutting him off before David need sully himself with the words. Lestat grinned malignantly. “No. I’m afraid ravishing the peasant girls and the merchant’s daughters was my domain alone. And good luck finding any records of that!”
David shook his head. “Your sense of history truly is abysmal, isn’t it? I mean no offense by this, of course. You’ve said so yourself. Despite the Revolution, ties to the aristocracy remained highly prized. The records may have been hidden, quite literally buried, but they were kept. If your claim of angry fathers at the gate proves fruitful, you may have progeny yet walking the earth.”
“A great dynasty of bastards.” Lestat shook his head and would have laughed, but Louis quickly interrupted.
“Lestat,” he said quietly. “You want to know this.”
His maker sighed. “Of course. My sensible Louis.” He regarded his other fledgling kindly. “David, forgive my fleeting cynicism. Louis is correct, I do want to know, even if there is only the remotest chance.”
Marius smiled. “Remembrance of the times, my boy. These things were once strong enough to make you seek solace in the earth, after all.”
Lestat nodded. “Yes, they were.” He smiled as a puzzled expression crossed his face. “Now, what was I playing?”
“Something new, I believe,” Louis said. “It was like nothing I’ve heard.”
Annoyance wrinkled Lestat’s brow. “Composing on the fly again. Infuriating. I shall never remember it now. Was it any good, Louis?”
“Intimate. Like a seduction.” Louis smiled, amused. “Don’t look so shattered, Lestat. I’ll recognize it if I hear it again and then you shall write it down. Nothing is ever lost that cannot be found.”
“Very true, Louis. But I’m afraid I must take my leave of you all.” Eric rose slowly and Louis hurriedly followed suit. “It is getting late and I suspect Chérie will be awaiting word that all is well.” He laughed brightly.
“Allow me to walk you out, Eric,” Louis offered.
“Of course,” he said and fixed his eyes on Lestat. “Thank you for welcoming me. Your home is beautiful.”
“More so when it is shared.” Lestat rose and nodded his acknowledgment. “Return any time you like.”
Louis led the brown-eyed vampire out of the parlor and they walked slowly down the long hallway, Eric reaching out briefly to trail a finger over a gold stripe in the wallpaper.
“The changes in him are growing,” he said quietly.
Louis nodded. “Startlingly so at times.” As they descended the stairs, he related his maker’s earlier outburst of affection. Louis paused by the fountain. “And I have never seen him as he was just now at the piano.”
“It sounds as if your confrontation this evening may have frightened him,” Eric said quietly. “He fears he may lose you.”
Louis shook his head. “That is nothing new. He has always been possessive of me.”
Eric smiled. “A very good observation. But in the past, it was perhaps more a matter of greed, though that also is fear-based.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “On the other hand, Lestat is extraordinarily powerful. He may be aware of a threat we cannot yet feel. Heed his warnings, to be safe.”
“And if the threat is only the changes he is undergoing?”
“Then you are already doing what you can.”
They continued to the gate, Louis holding it open with his boot as Eric embraced him.
“Don’t be so frightened, Louis. This could always turn out to be nothing. But our concern is that Lestat has never done anything small. ‘In a big way’ seems to apply to all he does.”
Louis nodded and smiled. “Now, will you carry something to Chérie for me?”
Eric’s eyes went wide. “I cannot believe I forgot!” He kissed Louis’s cheek. “From Chérie, though I suspect I am a poor substitute.”
“Not at all,” Louis said politely as he took his handkerchief from his pocket, “LPL” embroidered delicately in one corner. He placed a finger to one fanged tooth and punctured the flesh, quickly daubing it to the monogram. When the crimson stain ceased spreading, he carefully folded the handkerchief and handed it to Eric. “Please tell her I meant every word I said and that I will call.”
“My pleasure,” Eric said, stepping through the gate.
“Thank you,” Louis said as Eric walked toward the river.
“What was that about?” Armand asked, his voice close.
Louis jumped and whirled, frowning at the auburn-haired vampire smiling innocently up at him. “Some day I may strangle you just to watch the colors change in your face, my friend.”
Armand grinned impishly in the face of the empty threat. “You never could hear me creep up on you, could you?”
“Never,” Louis admitted.
Daniel came trotting up silently. He grinned as he slipped an arm over Armand’s shoulder. “So? Did it work?”
“Like a charm, little one,” Armand said, kissing his fledgling. “Thank you for indulging me. It was too sweet to resist.”
Louis stepped back, holding the gate wider so they might enter. As he followed them, their heads bent close together in quiet conversation, Louis smiled, touched by their shared affection, the way Daniel reached behind his back to catch Armand’s hand and draw it around his waist.
When they neared the stairs, Daniel paused and ran his hand down Armand’s cheek before turning and climbing to the flat.
Armand gestured for Louis to join him on the settee, and together they sat.
“I wished to thank you, Louis,” Armand said. “You told me the truth last night.”
Louis knitted his brow and smiled. “And which truth was that, my friend?”
“You will make this difficult for me, won’t you?”
“Let me know if there is any way I can make it more so.” Louis laughed silently.
Armand smiled. “Yes, this indomitable spirit. That is what I see in both you and my Daniel. It is most becoming.”
Louis leaned an arm on the back of the settee and regarded Armand across it. “So, my friend, are you saying you enjoy the freedom from his dependency or the heightened challenge?”
The enormous brown eyes grew cold. “Don’t push me too far, Louis. And you know my name! I think I shall scream if you do not use it.”
“Go ahead. Scream,” Louis teased. “I think I should like that.”
“You mock me, Louis?”
Louis sighed and searched his face. “Armand, my dear friend. No, I do not mock you. I can be this at ease with no one but you. We have put each other through so much pain, what else can we do but laugh? We have survived, after all, where others have not.” He smiled when the brown eyes softened. “I am overjoyed to see you and Daniel so happy with each other’s company. For whichever reason pleases you, Armand.”
Armand shook his head in wonder. “I think I shall never understand you, Louis.”
“That is because you are the master of pretense, Armand, and I have none.” Louis shrugged. “I can only speak with you of what I know to be true. And I don’t believe you want to truly understand me. Where would be the fun in that?”
Armand laughed, and the music of it made Louis smile.
“Are you planning on going through with this tomorrow, Louis? Marry this fledgling of Lestat’s?”
Louis’s expression blanked. “You know her name, Armand.”
Armand raised a hand. “I meant no disrespect, Louis. But don’t you worry that this ceremony borders on blasphemy?”
Louis grinned despite himself. “I was hoping it would be you, my friend, who finally raised this question. I couldn’t be more pleased.” Louis touched the back of his hand to Armand’s cheek.
“I do not understand your excitement.”
“Armand, I struggled with this very question for many months and if my conclusions are wrong, you more than any other could show me my error.”
“Do you wish to be persuaded?”
Louis shook his head. “Not in the least. I love Chérie with everything that I am, or ever was, or ever will be. I would never be separated from her and the ceremony is only an indulgence to our human nature, really. A way for us to declare our love openly.” He smiled. “God does not need this ceremony. He already knows.”
Armand considered him seriously. “So now you believe there is a God, Louis? Did Lestat’s story convince you of this?”
Louis shook his head. “No, but he believed what he saw to such a degree that my old questions filled me whenever he came near. I told him I believed him and, truly, I wanted to believe every word of it. But Lestat could see the questioning in my eyes, I think, and this seemed to sadden him further.” He shrugged. “That’s one of the reasons I went back to California. I could no longer stand seeing him that way. Armand, I knew he was about to crawl underground again and I couldn’t bear the thought of it.”
Armand nodded. “I know this despair.”
“Yes, but I hated that I ran, that all I could think to do was leave him. It was all the more evidence that I was damned and evil because I abandoned this vampire I claimed to love at the hour he was so obviously in need.”
“So you returned to your home in San Francisco?”
“It is my home,” Louis admitted, smiling. “Daniel knows where it is, of course, and you are welcome any time, though I am rarely there now.” He sighed. “I love San Francisco. Still very much a frontier city and, like New Orleans, the many cultures that settled there have given character to her face.” Louis smiled. “After months walking her streets, I started venturing out along the Bay. I had a passing interest in computers by that time, so I went to the Silicon Valley.”
“And that is where you met Chérie.” Armand smiled. “Love at first sight.”
Louis laughed. “I suppose so. In retrospect, I’ve never known any other kind.” He touched Armand’s shoulder. “The odd thing is that Chérie lives in the type of neighborhood I usually avoid, an area where I might choose to live but never hunt. Of course, it was early yet when I chanced upon her and I wasn’t truly hunting.” He stroked his brow absently. “I didn’t know what drew me down her street, though.”
“Fate, the hand of God, destiny,” Armand offered. “Whatever you choose to call it, it was fortunate for you, was it not?”
“Yes, naming it is not so important, is it, my friend?”
Armand shook his head. “Your actions once sent Daniel to New Orleans and to me. Lestat’s action pushed you to California and Chérie.” He laughed quietly. “And consider where we would all be if you had never spoken with Daniel.”
Louis laughed. “I tried that once. I do not recommend it, Armand.” He crossed his long legs. “The point is that I knew I was fortunate to find Chérie, that something had led me to her, and it turned out fortunate for Lestat as well. In her I saw goodness, which to me ultimately is God. Not the Church, as I had mistakenly supposed so many years ago. And if Chérie was good and she loved me, and love was good--”
“Enough!” Armand commanded, laughing. “I am nearly convinced already.” He seemed entranced with the fountain for a long moment. “You still do not believe in the Church, Louis.”
He shook his head and then leaned against his hand. “Rome no longer rules as it once did, my friend.” He smiled when a frown darkened Armand’s brow. “While its members love the current pontiff, they do not accept blindly the edicts Rome passes down. They are weighed and their value judged by the individual.” He shrugged. “At least in America. And the world becomes more like America every year.”
“How do you know this, Louis?”
“From taking instruction. Some of what the priest spoke of was quite shocking, to my ears but not to Chérie’s. She did not see God in the Church but in its members, in the human heart of the Church.” Louis ran a finger over his brow. “I read the thoughts of the priest and this too is what he believes, as do most of the mortals I observed wandering into Mass here and in California.” He sighed. “There are fanatics as there always are but they are far fewer in number. Not believing in the Church is commonplace. There is no damnation in this. The focus has shifted to finding love for the stranger sitting at your side, and this seemed to coincide with Lestat’s tale in some way.”
“Not damned. Yes, this has always been difficult for you to accept.” His soft brown eyes became thoughtful. “Of course, I heard you that night you cried out for Lestat. It broke my heart, Louis, waking me for an instant from sleep.”
“You had already arisen?”
Armand shook his head. “I didn’t go deep, as Lestat did. There was no need to lose touch with the world. I only lay in the earth until the pain was tolerable. I could not risk discovery, not even by our own kind, until my flesh appeared unharmed. The torment was too great to conceal at the beginning.”
Louis pressed his lips together firmly, the memory of his friend’s agony unforgettable.
“Unforgettable, yes,” Armand said, reading his thoughts. “But I’d known that agony before and knew I’d survive it again. You did not survive your pain. You could not even feel the agony in your own call for help.” He shook his head sadly and continued. “It broke every one of our hearts, Louis. You could feel it echo throughout the day. So I believe Lestat when he said he slept badly. We all did.” His smile was fleeting. “But I knew something momentous had come to pass. You had never cried out like that.” The auburn-haired vampire sighed slowly and studied his friend.
Louis furrowed his brow. “What is it, Armand?”
“As I said, I’m nearly convinced. I have but one question for you. How can it not be blasphemy to be married in the Church when you are both unrepentant killers?”
Louis smiled. “You should have been sitting with me in the confessional, my friend. You would have enjoyed it, I think. Lestat certainly did, leaning against the door so I could not flee. Seven hours I was in there, for each of five consecutive nights, recounting every sin since I last confessed. Two hundred years’ worth, Armand! Including killing a priest in that very building, no more than twenty feet from where I was kneeling.” He laughed. “And I needed to speak very quickly to be free of that booth in only five nights. But I received absolution, Maharet ensured the priest forgot everything except that I had confessed, and I have not committed a mortal sin since. The worst was probably my outburst this evening and, thanks in part to you, I did not consummate my wrath.”
Armand was strangely quiet. “So that’s why Lestat said you were fasting. Chérie, as well?”
“Yes, though she was in the confessional for only a few minutes.” Louis sighed. “So, we are both baptized Catholics, abiding by the traditions of the Church, and coming forward in the spirit of Christ’s teachings. Technically speaking, this service is not blasphemy.”
“I would agree with you, Louis. But what of taking Communion? You cannot exactly consume the Host.”
Louis nodded. “Yes, I wondered what the point could be of going through instruction and then Confession when we could not take Communion, but Lestat assures me he has found a way that is acceptable to the Church. I suppose we shall see tomorrow.” He rose from the settee. “But dawn approaches, my friend.”
Armand stood beside him and allowed Louis’s embrace.
“I wish to thank you for agreeing to stand up with me, Armand, even if you are skeptical of the entire affair. Apart from Lestat, you are my oldest friend and it means a great deal to me to have you there.”
“You know you have Daniel to thank for convincing me not to decline.” Armand smiled. “But as it turns out, I am glad of it. Why should you and Chérie be excluded simply because you are vampires?”
Louis laughed. “Most would believe that alone is reason enough for exclusion. Come, Armand. I wish to bid everyone a good night before retiring.”
They mounted the stairs and walked together to the front parlor. Marius and David stood, with Lestat and Daniel following suit.
Louis shook his head wearily. “I will be glad when this is over so you will all stop doing that.”
Lestat grinned and glanced at Daniel. And they promptly started applauding. Armand laughed and joined in when Louis blushed, as did David and Marius.
“Merde,” Louis muttered and, as their laughter quieted, he glared at Lestat. “Why do you relish doing this to me?”
His maker grinned malevolently and came to lay a hand on his fledgling’s shoulder. “I enjoy it. Very little else in this life gives me as much pleasure.”
Louis sighed. “Well, as enjoyable as this might be, I must take my leave for the hour is late. Good night.” He gave them a dignified bow and turned to go, though he hooked an arm around Lestat and drew him out onto the gallery with him.
“What is it, Louis?” his maker asked as they walked toward Louis’s rooms.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Lestat gave a wave of his hand. “So ask it. You know I can deny you nothing. The whole world knows this!” His eyes grew wide and his voice hushed. “Mon Dieu! Are you trembling?”
“It’s a little delicate.”
“Just ask me, Louis.”
He stared at the dark carpet as they walked. “I haven’t slept alone in two years, Lestat. And we haven’t, I mean, there’s...oh, merde!” He again flushed and ventured a glance at his maker.
Lestat smiled kindly, his hand to his breast. “You want me to sleep with you tonight?”
Louis met his gaze. “We have not done so since the very first night and that was such a horrific experience.”
“Horrific for you, perhaps,” Lestat corrected. “To have you quivering atop me, and then to lie there for nearly a half-hour with your dead weight pressed against me? No, Louis, horrific is not the word that springs to mind.”
“Then suffice it to say I would prefer to have a fonder memory of lying with you. And I don’t know when the opportunity will again present itself.”
Lestat pushed the hair away from Louis’s face. “Such gifts you give me. How soon before you sleep?”
Louis closed his eyes momentarily, relaxing. “Perhaps thirty minutes. And I promised to call Chérie.”
“I’ll be there,” Lestat said, turning and striding back toward the front parlor.
“Lestat!” Louis hissed.
“Louis!” his maker said, mocking his tone. “Don’t worry! I’ll be discreet.” He held a finger across his lips.
Louis groaned and strode to his bedroom. But he smiled as he dropped the cell phone on the bed and quickly changed into a creamy silk shirt and pleated black linen slacks. He removed the pillows from his chest and opened its heavy lid.
He hopped up onto the bed, grinning, and flipped open the phone. He quickly dialed the penthouse.
Maharet answered. “Hello, Louis! We were expecting your call. Chérie is already lying down. Let me take the telephone to her.”
“Thank you. Has everything been well there tonight?”
Static rose on the phone. “Yes, very well. We had an enjoyable evening.”
He heard suppressed giggles in the background. “I can only imagine. I trust Eric has spoken with you?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. We won’t retire for a while yet, so we will talk then. All right, here’s Chérie. No more than a minute, please.”
“Oui, madame,” he said, laughing. There was much fumbling over the phone.
“Louis!”
“This is devastating, Chérie.”
“I miss you, too, my love. Eric gave me your handkerchief. Thank you!” She giggled. “I don’t know whether to sleep with it next to my heart or to suck it dry.”
He laughed. “The latter, I believe, might be more fun.”
“My thinking, exactly. Oh, Louis. How ever am I going to make it through the day without you beside me?”
“Steal a pillow from one of the beds. Steal two!”
She laughed. “A vastly inferior substitute, I fear. But it will have to do, I suppose.”
“I love you, Chérie.”
“And I love you right back, so there.”
“So I’m stuck with you, am I?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Thank God!” He laughed. “Good night, my love. Until tomorrow.”
“And tomorrow and tomorrow. Good night, Louis.”
He waited until the dialtone sounded hollowly in his ear before turning off the phone and slowly snapping it shut. He hefted the black plastic instrument in his hand several times, contemplating its destruction.
“Don’t bother,” his maker said, quietly closing the French doors. He stepped to the bed and sat next to Louis. “I’ve smashed a dozen of the ghastly things and it has never given me an ounce of satisfaction.” He fell over backwards and lay staring up at the canopy. “Now I know where I can lay my hands on a copy of your book, though I’ve sworn this is the last copy I’ll ever buy. There is a certain satisfaction in ripping it to shreds, however, so I wouldn’t mind breaking that vow.” He grinned up at Louis as his fledgling stretched out beside him, propped on one elbow.
Louis laughed quietly. “You know, there are times when you are such a boy, Lestat. My God! You actually look twenty and fresh off the farm right now.”
“You say the sweetest things, Louis. Merci. Merci beaucoup. Nice shirt, by the way.” He ran his hand over the silk.
“Thank you. But I’m partial to yours.” His maker had changed from white tee-shirt and jeans into a black satin shirt and black denim.
“We could swap shirts,” Lestat suggested.
Louis shook his head. “I wouldn’t like it nearly as much without you in it.”
“Oh, I am going to vomit!” His maker laughed.
“Well, do it now if you’re going to, because I need to sleep,” Louis said, rising and pulling off his maker’s boots.
Lestat sprang from the bed and stood waiting until Louis had lain down before stepping inside the big chest and nestling in beside his fledgling. His maker stayed propped on one elbow as Louis adjusted around his mass, the long arms encircling Lestat’s waist and pulling him close.
Louis smiled, lifting his head as his maker slid an arm around his neck. The mop of blond hair tickled his face as Lestat tenderly kissed him before settling into the deep blue silk. It was a snug fit, Lestat being much larger physically than Chérie and more muscular than Louis, though they were far less cramped than on the night he was Born to Darkness, wedged as they had been into a narrow, tapered coffin. His maker’s powerful body practically covered his, one leg drawing up over him before sliding down between his own.
“You were so terrified that first night,” Lestat said quietly. “I feared you’d bolt rather than lie down.”
“Yes, I considered it,” Louis said. “But you wanted me to lay with you. That little oversight was part of your plan.”
Lestat laughed, not bothering to deny the accusation. “When did you figure it out?” he asked, curious.
“Two years ago, the moment you pointed out I hadn’t provided for Chérie but that you had.” He touched his maker’s silken lips, enjoying their coolness when they pressed against his fingers. “You had plenty of time to prepare for me.”
“I had time, yes.” Lestat shook his head, furrowing his brow. “I never slept with my other fledglings on their first night. Perhaps that’s why our bond is different.”
“Perhaps.” Louis watched as regret clouded his maker’s face momentarily. He sighed. “And I stole your chance to do so again with Chérie.”
Lestat regarded him with wonder. “You always seem to know these things.” His fingers stroked Louis’s cheek. “Yes, I would have liked that, but no, she was for you, Louis.” He laughed quietly. “Besides, she slept with me her second night. Did she tell you that?”
“Yes,” he said. “But she never revealed where you took her.”
“Carmel Valley. I told you we wouldn’t go far. I showed her how to fashion a lair in the earth and we slept there that night.”
Louis’s smile was puzzled. “You still have that house?”
“Of course. Have you ever known me to give up a property?” Lestat smiled when his fledgling laughed silently. “I could no more give up that house than I could this one.” He shrugged his shoulder a little too casually.
Akasha or their reunion? Louis wondered idly a moment before pushing the thought away. His learning upon awakening of Lestat’s abduction, from Khayman, now the oldest living vampire, still sent him into deep contemplation. Certainly not something to sleep on. And he had remembered one property Lestat had relinquished. His maker’s laugh startled him, however, before he could say anything.
“I still want to shake you when you do that,” Lestat said.
“Alors, thank you for showing more restraint now.” Louis grinned. “That’s the problem with men of action. They can’t stand the thought of missing out on anything, however mundane.”
Lestat intertwined his fingers with Louis’s. “I suppose not, though I’ve only rarely found your musings ordinary.” He closed his eyes briefly and then he sighed. “We’re the same, and yet we’ve changed.” A little disbelieving shake of his head. “You know, we were both reborn with Chérie.”
“Of course, I know,” Louis said softly. “I was glad to see you come alive again.” He freed his hand and pushed the yellow hair away from Lestat’s face, studying the blue-gray eyes, the determined smile barely curling those sensual lips. The mirth that lay constantly in wait, the smile that never completely faded. “Such beauty, the happiness in your face, the goodness....” Louis let his voice trail off before saying too much. “This is as I had always hoped it could be between us, Lestat,” he whispered. “Thank you for tonight.”
His maker gave a tiny nod. “I do wish I had your gift for expression. ‘Sublime friendship.’ Yes, that’s how you said it, so profoundly on Daniel’s tapes.” Lestat pressed his head against his fledgling’s. “The same, yet different.”
Louis smiled as his maker snuggled in closer. But he could feel the stillness creeping up on him and he pulled the heavy lid shut.
“So soft,” Lestat whispered. “I’d forgotten how soft silk is to lie upon. Why always blue, Louis?”
“Crisp clean air, deep waters, your eyes.” The bolts all slid into place. “I love you, Lestat.” His lids fell closed.
Lestat bit down on his own little finger, smoothing the blood over his fledgling’s lips.
Louis’s eyes shot open and, sucking the blood from his lips, he could just make out his maker’s eyes sparkling blue in the blackness.
“I love you, Louis,” Lestat said, pressing his lips to Louis’s cheek.
“So silky soft, so soft....” And the piercing green eyes were hidden once more.
Lestat lay in Louis’s unwavering grip, listening to his fledgling’s heart steadily beating as if on a gong, slow and rhythmic. He stroked Louis’s icy brow, the lustrous black hair. His finger traced the strong jaw and the slope of the neck. His hand smoothed the silk over Louis’s shoulder, down the powerful arm. So rigid, the flesh beneath his touch, like marble. He found Louis’s hand across his abdomen and stroked each long, delicate finger. He ran his hand up, over the flat stomach to rest upon the unyielding chest. So like a swimmer’s physique, sinewy, its strength disguised.
“Oh, Louis,” Lestat sighed. “What am I going to do while you’re away? My precious Louis, my sweet, gentle-hearted little brother. And our darling Chérie. With whom will I watch the deepening twilight?” Little laugh. “Do you know she never speaks?” he asked the inanimate face. “She only watches the colors change, enthralled. And once or twice she has turned her rapture on me, as I babble incessantly. Loving it.”
He closed his eyes to the darkness and, after a while, began humming softly. Notes stringing together, new, lilting and melodic. His eyes flew open. Louis’s lips touching his flesh. He’d moved in his sleep, and had instantly fallen motionless again.
Lestat smiled. “You like that song, my Louis? Yes, perhaps I’ll write while you’re gone. Record another album. Under a different name, I think.” He laughed. “Then I could be as syrupy as I like and no one would be the wiser. Except you, Louis. I’d have to let you in on the secret, wouldn’t I? Despite what you say, you’ve always understood. You and Chérie never laugh at my human vanity, and that might be enough. But could I do it, make something from nothing anonymously? Just put the music out there, no videos, no concerts, and see if it flies, like they did in decades past? I don’t know, Louis.”
He stretched the arm cradling his fledgling’s head and rested his fingertips over the vein at Louis’s throat, feeling the blood pumping steadily under the hardened preternatural skin. An intimate place to touch a vampire, a lover’s touch.
“And perhaps I will let David ply me for details of my mortal youth, ruthlessly make him blush as I describe deflowering the sweet young maids.” He let his lids fall shut. “I had them all, you know. Oh, Louis. And what if there is a family lurking out there? Could they know about me, the country lord who violated their ancestral mother? Has some distant granddaughter read my book and recognized her own history?”
His legs were like lead and he pressed close to Louis, sliding his free arm tightly over his fledgling’s waist.
“It would be too delicious. Ah, Louis! There is much to do. And you will love where I’m sending you. Simply perfect.”
The stillness overtook him and he was finally, mercifully quiet.
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