• Night Five
• Epilogue

Night Six

Rue Royale

The taste of blood. Rich blood, powerful blood. Louis’s tongue slid over his lips, searching out the source of the luscious scent.

“That’s right. Wake up, Louis.”

He sucked up the blood, so hungry. The tingling danced through him, not enough.

“Chérie,” he murmured.

Lips against his ear. “Try again, bien-aimé. Your older lover, your first love.”

His lips slowly formed a smile.

“Lestat.”

A purring in his ear. “I love it when you say my name.”

“Love you,” Louis whispered, sliding back into sleep.

The scent of blood and his lips parted, the warmth trickling into his mouth.

“Hungry.”

“Tonight, you feast. But you must awaken.”

Icy flesh against his lips and his mouth suddenly filled with the thick warmth. His eyes shot open as he drew on the blood, the passionate roar as the blood raced through his limbs, animating them. He reached for the flesh but it was gone.

“Just a taste, Louis. To jump-start that cold engine.”

“I am not a car.” Louis smiled as he watched Lestat unsuccessfully fight off a wave of giggles. He had to laugh.

His maker pushed the lid wide and Louis squinted against the light.

“It can’t kill you, Louis,” Lestat assured him, stepping from the chest and drawing Louis to his feet. “Not anymore. You are truly immortal.”

“It still hurts,” Louis said, though he realized in the same instant that the pain was almost imperceptible.

“Yes, but tolerable.” Lestat smiled. “Come. I want you to watch the sunset.”

Still groggy, he let his maker drag him to the front parlor and out onto the balcony. An arm shot to his eyes.

“Mon Dieu!” There was still yellow in the western sky!

“Breathe, Louis,” Lestat coaxed patiently. “It’s only habit. The pain is not great, feel it as it really is. The sun cannot kill you.” He guided his fledgling into an iron chair, still warm from the afternoon sun.

Louis slowly lowered his arm, mesmerized by the colors staining the sky. He glanced around him at the Rue Royale, still basking in the fading light. Dusty pinks and bright creams, bathed in amber. And back at the sky, the mauves and fuchsias layered with crimson and orange. And lower still, yellow.

“So beautiful!” he said in a delighted gasp.

“Yes, Louis. Almost as beautiful as you are in this light.”

He glanced back at his maker, wanting to see the light in Lestat’s face, and was aghast to find the video camera trained on him!

“Please put that thing away.”

He was surprised when Lestat actually did as he commanded, setting the camera on the little table as he lowered himself into another chair beside Louis.

A low moan escaped Louis’s lips and he reached for Lestat’s hair, shimmering with hues of gold and peach.

Lestat smiled and patted the camera. “When you see the tape, you’ll see how this light affects you, as well. Chérie will put it on that pretty computer and you will not mind.”

“Will it capture the sunset?”

“Oh, yes. And I hold the patents on the design which put the technology in such a small device.” He smiled to himself and shook his head. “But it will be your infallible memory that makes it beautiful again, because your eyes see the depth as no camera can.”

Louis reached for Lestat’s hand and they sat watching as pink and scarlet gradually gave way to rich violet and the deepest blue. It was one of those rare moments he so loved, when the mind was blissfully silent.

“You do this every evening?” Louis asked quietly. Stars winked on as the colors dissolved.

“Most evenings. Unless something pressing needs my attention.”

He gave his maker’s hand a squeeze. “I am envious. Have you ever been able to consciously awaken yourself earlier or later?”

Lestat shook his head. “I don’t believe I’ve really tried.” The corner of his mouth twisted into a smile. “Somehow, I doubt an alarm clock will be of much use, Louis.”

“Not exactly what I was thinking,” Louis said, smiling. “But there must be a reason I sleep as late as I do. Perhaps there is a way to train myself, use...oh, what do they call it?”

“Behavior modification.”

“Yes, precisely.”

“It’s possible, of course,” Lestat said, rapping his nails absently on the table. “But the little trick I played on you this evening is the only method I know. You could always build something that would--”

“No, that’s too disgusting.” Louis shuddered and shook his head. “Waking to cold blood? Thank you, no.”

Lestat smiled, his blue-gray eyes distant. “And untidy, if your head turns in your sleep, as it did last night.”

“I moved in my sleep?” Louis freed his hand and pushed himself back in the chair, though he was perfectly upright already.

His maker murmured a confirmation. “I was humming something while awaiting sleep and you turned your head, kissing me.” His fingers touched his head. “Here. I cannot be certain it was a kiss, of course, but that’s how it felt, and you had not moved again by the time I awakened.”

Louis pressed a thumb to his lips, laughter sparking his dark green eyes. “Music to wake the dead.” He regarded his maker suspiciously. “What else did you do after I’d fallen asleep?”

Lestat seemed startled from a deep contemplation. He shrugged lightly, making a tiny gesture with his hand. “Stroked your hair, listened to your heart beating, babbled about finding mortal children, and whispered things that would make us both blush.”

Louis furrowed his brow. Lestat was telling him the truth! He had expected a biting remark, lecherous teasing, anything but the truth. “Lestat, are you feeling well? Is anything wrong?”

“Of course, something is wrong,” his maker said. Impatiently, but it was not directed at his fledgling. “You’re leaving tonight and it will be an eternity before I see you again.” He breathed a long sigh. “And I should be livid. I should be furious with you both. But the simple truth is that I’m not. There won’t be time for this later and I will be even more miserable if I wait until you’re gone.” He laughed at the irony. “You’re right, Louis. It makes it real.”

“Lestat, if you feel like this, why are you sending us away?” Louis gave his head a confused shake. “We don’t need this trip. You know Chérie would say the same.”

“Oh, spare me, Louis! Don’t you think I know that? I am painfully aware that if I were to squeeze out one tear, you’d call the whole thing off. Without question, and you would still go on loving me!” Lestat clenched his fist and sprang to his feet. He took a couple of steps along the balcony and whirled back on Louis. “There are times I could do it, manipulate you that way. Hell, there are times I have done it! Plenty of times!”

Louis tipped his head and stared up at his maker. “I know that, Lestat. What’s your point?”

His maker sighed and leaned back against the intricate wrought-iron railing. “For once, I want to make the selfless gesture.” He grinned maliciously. “Yes, I know. Hilarious.” He spread his hands before him, as if holding out a newspaper. “And the headlines scream, ‘Brat Prince Does Good!’ Right above, ‘Queen Mum Takes Martian Lover!’” He mimicked crumpling the paper and throwing it over his shoulder before crossing his arms dejectedly.

Louis laughed hard, his shoulders shaking. “Now there’s a priceless image!”

Lestat glared at him, but his stern posture gave way, bit by bit, until he pressed a hand to his lips to keep from falling into a laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, Lestat. I’m sorry for laughing, but that was wonderful.” Louis dug his handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his eyes. “Dearest Lestat. Please hear me now. Sadness and a little self-pity come with the territory, as they say. And for two years, you have done nothing but amaze me with your generosity and your goodwill. Chérie, as well, but she has never known you to be otherwise. You are doing splendidly in this, as you excel in everything you do.”

Louis rose from his chair, set one hand against his maker’s waist, and pressed the other to his back, pulling him onto his shoulder and leaning against him gently.

First one, then another, and then a chorus of ah’s arose from across the street.

Lestat pivoted on Louis’s arm and together they beheld about a dozen mortals watching them. Louis raised one hand to his forehead and extended it to them briefly. He smiled at his maker, who was frowning at the smattering of applause that had broken out.

“Not enough for you?” Louis teased. He quickly tipped his head and kissed Lestat’s cheek, holding the embrace until the applause grew loud. He pulled back just enough to see his maker’s eyes.

Lestat laughed. “Be careful, Louis. You’re enjoying this more every night. But if you think you’re getting good at it, remember, I’m better.” He took a deep breath and turned to the gathered fans. “Hey!” he said, loud enough for them to hear and the entire group fell silent.

“What are you doing, Lestat?” Louis hissed.

Lestat grinned wickedly and turned back to the mortals. “Hey, Louis’s getting married tonight!”

“Merde!” Louis leaned one hand on the rail and bowed his head.

There were more than a few disappointed moans coming from the group, and then the clapping started, building, along with a few congratulatory shouts from the males.

“They love you, Louis,” Lestat said, beaming. “Not as much as I do, of course, but listen to them.”

Louis turned his head to watch the band of mortals and their clapping grew louder under his attention. Slowly, he straightened.

“But must you tell them that? They will scour every church in the hopes of finding us. Our history with St. Louis’s is hardly a secret.” He glared at his maker.

“What was the name of that plantation they passed off as Pointe du Lac?”

“Oak Alley.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oak Alley,” Louis repeated firmly, growing more annoyed.

“What? They couldn’t hear you.”

Louis fought hard not to grin. “Oak Alley!” he said loudly and strode quickly into the flat. He turned as soon as he was out of view, pressing both hands over his mouth.

Lestat, still on the balcony, threw up his hands in consternation and yelled after him, “Of course, it will be lovely there!” And he sauntered in, falling into Louis’s arms as they both burst out laughing.

“Good Lord, I hope they heard that,” Louis said, as Lestat pulled him down on the silver damask.

“I heard them passing it around before I made my exit.”

“Exit?” David repeated as he stepped into the parlor. “What sort of mischief are you two plotting?”

Lestat turned wide-eyed to Louis and they burst out laughing again.

“Oh, do stop that cackling, Lestat, and Louis--” David halted abruptly and glanced at his watch. “Louis! What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“Watching the sunset,” Louis said, eyes alight.

“Really? Then you’ve already been up awhile?”

“Yes. Lestat woke me early.”

David peered quizzically at his maker but Lestat only grinned smugly.

Louis thought he could almost see the elderly scholar gazing from the young man’s eyes. “David, have you ever tried to alter the time you rise?”

“I have not, but that’s an interesting question. That you are awake now would certainly indicate that rising earlier, or later I suppose, than our natural bent is achievable.” David smoothed an unruly lock of dark brown hair off his forehead. “How did Lestat awaken you?”

“A few drops of blood.”

Lestat shook his head. “That was more than a few drops, Louis.”

“Explain it then, rather than simply gloating,” Louis challenged.

His maker sighed and turned to David. “A few drops of blood produces some movement, in the eyes, the mouth. But it won’t animate limbs. It took a generous swallow,” he glanced at Louis for confirmation, “generous, yes, before Louis could move his arms.”

“Do you know of anything else that has disturbed your sleep, Louis? Lestat, we saw your body move on that ship, so it could be proximity to blood. Or a change in light, perhaps.”

“I’ve been told,” Louis said, “that some music will cause me to turn in my sleep.”

Lestat giggled and Louis could feel the flush rising in his cheeks.

David studied their maker as he slowly circled to a chair. “So, Armand was correct regarding your hasty retirement last night. Do stop snickering, Lestat, your indiscretion is appalling. None of us believed your claim of exhaustion. We simply could not agree upon your true motivation.” He smiled, though he politely tried to hide it. “That you are both in your stocking feet does nothing to conceal the truth, of course.”

Louis grimaced and drew a finger across his brow. “Please tell David what you saw, Lestat.”

His maker laid a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry, Louis.” He faced David. “Now, not a word of this to anyone!”

“Good Lord! Of course not!” David regarded the suggestion disdainfully. “We’re family, after all. Now tell me, so Louis may start breathing again.”

Lestat quickly recounted the head-turning incident. With thankfully few adjectives, to Louis’s relief.

David shook his head. “Could be anything. Affection for you, the draw of one’s maker, the music.” He regarded Louis kindly. “Any connection to your dreams?”

Louis closed his eyes momentarily and shook his head. “None that are apparent. I will think on it and let you know.”

David nodded and smiled. “So, was the sunset worth the rude awakening, Louis?”

His eyes lighted as his expression softened. “Very much so.”

Lestat grinned mischievously. “Would you like to see, David? Merde! The camera!” He leapt to his feet and disappeared out the French windows.

David laughed. “Incorrigible.”

“Indeed.” Louis smiled.

Lestat had the tape out of the device as he reentered, pulling open the doors that concealed the enormous television screen. He popped the tape into the player, muted the sound, and stepped back.

Louis smiled when David gasped as the colors of the sunset filled the screen, Louis’s profile silhouetted against the blazing sky. The camera circled and the left side of his face was bathed in the dim light. As Louis turned to gaze on the street, the camera followed his view and stayed on him momentarily when his awed expression returned to the sky. The camera slowly panned to capture the entire canvas before turning back onto Louis. The view moved to show more of his face, cheeks and eyes radiant in the low light. Louis turned to the camera in delight, only to furrow his brow and wave it away. The camera followed the course of his hand and the picture blinked off.

“Short but very sweet,” Lestat murmured, sighing, hand to his breast. He rewound the tiny clip and pocketed the tape.

David nodded. “Yes, the time in the studio seems to have rubbed off on you, Lestat. Very nice camera work.”

“Why, thank you, David. But there’s nothing quite as wondrous as the sun’s light in a vampire’s eye.” He smiled at Louis. “In fact, if you’ll let me onto that Scottish machine of yours, I’ll leave a little present for Chérie.”

Louis beckoned Lestat and his maker crouched before him. He leaned close and drew a finger along Lestat’s jaw as he recited the passwords. “Lover. Liar. Father. Lestat.” He held up the finger. “En français. Do you remember how to type the diacriticals?” he asked, settling back on the divan as Lestat strode toward the door.

“Mais oui,” he said, disappearing down the hall.

“But of course,” David repeated. “And would he admit it if he did not?”

Louis laughed and shook his head. “No. But there is a little program on there that allows you to pick characters as if from a typesetter’s tray. Lestat is familiar with this.”

“Strange how technologies build upon themselves,” David mused. “Daniel tells me the new edition of your book is complete.”

“Precious little I had to do with it,” Louis said, smiling. “Oh, I spelled Chérie whenever she would allow while she was typing the original work onto the computer, and I needed to endure their combined onslaughts on my memory from time to time, but otherwise I left the project to their hands.” He laughed silently. “Oh, and Lestat did insist I disclose a few cheery incidents from the sixty-five years we had with Claudia. He was none too pleased I’d glossed over that period originally.” He slowly shrugged.

David nodded. “You’re no longer trying to warn the mortal world.”

“An exercise in futility, from the beginning,” Louis said. “The price of immortality is nothing compared to its allure.”

“Yes, I’m afraid you were unsuccessful in concealing this.”

“Impossible to believe I could,” Louis said. “I love this life too dearly, especially now.” He smiled.

David rose. “And speaking of which, you have a wedding to prepare for. If I may have the honor of serving as your valet?”

“I could think of none better, David. Thank you,” Louis said and gained his feet. “What is the time? I’m afraid rising early has me completely disoriented.”

“Just past nine. Early yet, but I wasn’t certain how intricately Lestat had you dressing for the occasion.”

Louis furrowed his brow. “Very. Though certainly not as courtly as he had originally proposed.” He laughed and pushed his hair back from his face. “This is New Orleans, after all, not Versailles. Still, a marvelous suit of clothes, but it will not require excessive attention. However, I do wish to take a shower first, to get warm.”

David nodded. “I’ll come by your rooms on the hour then.”

Louis returned his nod and, stepping from the parlor, nearly collided with Daniel. He caught his adopted fledgling by the shoulders and looked him up and down proudly.

“You look splendid, Daniel!”

Certainly the black tuxedo was modern but something about the longer cut of the coat and the tapering of the slacks felt Old World. Over the crisp white shirt Daniel wore a vest in silver and gold brocade. It had an almost burnished sheen that perfectly complemented his hair.

Daniel smiled. “Thank you, Louis. There’s nothing as luxurious as fine tailoring, is there? With Armand back, I’m beginning to remember how much I enjoyed the innumerable hours we’ve spent over the years just being fitted.”

“I’m glad for you, Daniel,” Louis said sincerely. He laid an arm across his shoulder. “I have a small favor to ask.”

“Name it and it’s done,” Daniel said.

Louis smiled. “Thank you. Check in on Lestat while Chérie and I are gone. With the work on the new edition finished, he may be feeling a bit abandoned.” His smile broadened. “And watch out when the blue lines come in so he doesn’t try to slip anything past you.”

Daniel laughed. “Not much chance of that. They’re set to ship to me in Florida. Do you think he’d accept an invitation out?”

“He might. And if for some reason he wants to stay in my suite, he’s by all means welcome. You have the keycodes.”

Daniel nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Louis. You two just enjoy your trip.” He turned and patted Louis on both shoulders. “I need to get over to the penthouse. Gabrielle is anxious to make sure I don’t clash with the bride’s dress, though that’s hardly likely seeing as Lestat coordinated everything and sat in on most of the fittings.”

“Give Chérie my love, please. I’ll see you at the church.”

“Will do,” Daniel said, saluting casually and striding rapidly down the hallway.

Louis continued to his rooms. Lestat was still at work on the computer as he walked past the study and into his bedroom, closing the doors behind him. His maker’s boots were gone and the pillows had been returned to the top of his closed chest. He smiled.

“Thank you, Lestat,” he said quietly yet loud enough for his maker to hear if he was listening. Louis quickly undressed and donned a thick, cotton terry robe, cinching it tightly around his waist before opening the doors and walking to his bathroom.

He emerged several long minutes later, steam roiling from the open doors and a towel around his neck. He was running it idly over his dripping hair when Lestat called to him.

Louis crossed the sitting room and stepped into the study.

“What is it, Lestat?”

His maker leered at him. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“No,” Louis said flatly before a smile crossed his lips. “What do you want? I need to get dressed.”

Lestat beckoned him around the desk. “I’d like your opinion.”

When Louis came close, Lestat pulled him onto his lap.

“Lestat!”

“Stop your whining, Louis, and watch.”

Louis hooked an arm around his maker’s neck and watched the monitor as Lestat set the video running.

From blackness the image of Louis rose, bathed in the diminishing light. Lestat had added a soundtrack that was vaguely familiar, a single violin harmonizing serenely with the changing colors of the sunset. The clip ended frozen on Louis turning to face the camera, smiling. The frame held for a couple of seconds before fading again to blackness.

Louis furrowed his brow. “The music. I know that from somewhere, but I cannot be certain where.” He smiled. “Very nice editing, Lestat.” He patted his maker’s cheek fondly.

“I was wondering if you would recognize the music,” Lestat said, smiling.

“I have heard it before, then?”

Lestat nodded slowly. “That’s the melody I was humming last night while you slept. I brought in the violin and recorded it.” He pointed to the small microphone attached to the computer.

Louis stood suddenly, his eyes wide.

“Good Lord, Louis!” David said as he stepped into the room. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Sit down.” He guided Louis into a chair. “What did you show him, Lestat?”

David stepped around the desk and Lestat played the short clip. David frowned. “I don’t see what’s so upsetting about this.”

Lestat leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “This is the music I was humming last night when Louis moved in his sleep. He recognized it, though not why. I had just told him when you entered.”

“Oh my! Yes, I can see how that might be a bit of a shock.” David knelt beside Louis. “Are you all right?”

Louis nodded. “As you say, a bit of a shock.”

“Well, why don’t you go finish drying off? Take a moment to catch your breath and I’ll be right in.” David smiled kindly.

“Yes,” Louis said, rising. “I’m fine, really.” He turned and strode into his bedroom. He vigorously rubbed his hair with the towel but shortly paused, sitting heavily on the bed.

“Too weird,” he murmured, recalling Chérie’s recent words. And what had he told her? Louis smiled and ran a hand over his face, glancing quickly at his reflection in the glass. “Relax, you fool,” he admonished his mirror image. Just as with every other answer he had ever sought, this too would be revealed in its own time. And he had time. Louis smiled a little mischievously. “‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.’ Macbeth’s line, Lestat. Macbeth’s.”

And tonight he had more pressing concerns. He breathed, deep and slow, stood, and pulled his robe tighter about him. In little more than an hour, he would see Chérie again. His green eyes instantly sparked as a smile spread across his lips.

He gathered up the damp towel and dropped it down the laundry chute. Brilliant idea, that. Lestat contracted a service that at dawn picked up soiled articles from a bin in a locked closet on the ground floor and returned them, cleaned and brushed, to the racks in the same closet before evening. Infinitely more secure than having a laundress come in.

Louis pulled open his armoire and stared for a moment at the magnificent suit of clothes, encased lightly in the thinnest film of plastic. Other articles were carefully pushed away from it on the rod. He reached out one long finger and rent the film with his nail, pushing the plastic gently off one then the other shoulder. He gathered the discarded skin and dropped it into a waste bin.

“Stunning!” he heard David gasp.

He pressed a thumb to his lips and glanced over his shoulder at his brother vampire. Louis beamed despite himself. “Yes, as much as I hate to admit it,” he turned back to the armoire, “I’m looking forward to wearing this.” He gingerly lifted the suit from the rod, cradling it until he had laid it out on the bed.

“I suppose it would be like rediscovering Harris tweed again after two hundred years.” David shook his head. “Impossible to imagine, really.”

“The change is gradual, and it’s more cut than cloth. After a time, you simply cannot wear what you once did.” Louis laughed, unfurling one finger. “Except on All Hallow’s Eve, but you know Lestat’s penchant for that.”

“Any occasion to dress up.” David chuckled. “Well aware. I’ll admit it was a relief to see him enjoy the holiday. He certainly had the children in Chérie’s neighborhood enchanted.”

Louis nodded as he lifted a small stack of woolen garments from a drawer. “He talks of making it a tradition, frightening the little children.” He laughed quietly. “They so firmly believe it’s all make-up and wire rigging, unlike here where we must always be cautious. It’s refreshing, in a way.”

“Yes, as long as Lestat doesn’t get carried away,” David said. “He maintained his decorum admirably, far better than I thought he would. But as you pointed out, it wasn’t far different from his watching your fans here.” He removed the thickly padded hanger from the suit and returned it to the armoire. “Now it seems you’ll have something ready for these little affairs.”

“His fans,” Louis corrected, cheeks flushed, thoroughly uncomfortable with the attention he’d received earlier. And feeling a little self-conscious over his pleasure with the antiquated finery. “Actually, David, I have three more suits just like this ordered. Simpler fabrics, the adornment more reserved, certainly, but as long as they had the pattern made, it seemed an opportune moment.”

“Quite right,” David said, nodding. “When something fits well, I often order reserves. A matter of practicality.” He patted Louis’s shoulder. “Now let’s get you dressed, my boy.”

Louis smiled. Easy to forget he was more than one hundred fifty years David’s senior. Both the man’s soul and the mortal body that soul occupied were older than he when they had been Born to Darkness.

David held his robe, discreetly averting his eyes, as Louis donned the archaic yet familiar undergarments. Modern milling certainly made the woolen fabric far more comfortable than he remembered. And the absence of elastic was welcome, quite pleasant, in fact.

He quickly slid into the white silk shirt, pleated at the shoulders and roomier than modern tailoring, giving more freedom of movement for the rigorous activities of his mortal youth. The full sleeves were hand-gathered at his wrists and David assisted in tying them snugly. Louis smoothed the pleated cuffs before his long fingers made their way slowly up the front placard, securely knotting each silk tie and then adjusting the lay of the ruffles on either side. Louis ran his fingers along the edge of the narrow, upright collar.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling, when David handed him the breeches. Louis ran his hand over the heavier silk before carefully pulling on the short pants and gently tucking in the tail of the long shirt. He deftly fastened the curving line of buttons rising to his hip.

Louis sat atop his chest to buckle the narrow cuffs below each knee and to pull on the tall, black boots, the leather lustrous and without blemish.

David smiled. “A living history lesson, as it were. You can observe period clothing in museums and on the color plates of printed volumes, but it’s infinitely more interesting to see them on a living form. The last decades of the eighteenth century were sumptuous times for gentlemen’s haberdashery.”

Louis smiled as he quietly stamped each boot, settling his feet into the woolen hose. He bent to tug each leg, straightened, and smoothed the black silk before running his thumbs around the waistband and evening the blousing of the shirt. David attended to the back of his shirt.

“How is that?” David asked.

“Fine, thank you. The tie next, David,” Louis prompted. “I’m not certain how valuable this lesson, as you call it, will be to you. There are small details that disturb the authenticity of the suit. The stitching overall is too perfect and the modern tacking negates the need for the myriad hidden fasteners we were forced to endure to prevent unsightly bulging in the material. Keeping buttons wrapped seemed a full-time job. Thank you,” he said as David handed him what looked like yards of pure white silk scarving. He laughed. “And the boots are simply my preference for today’s softer leathers. Not in the least accurate, I’m afraid, and they conceal my choice of the warmer woolen hose over silk, which should more properly be worn with this sort of evening suit.”

David watched, fascinated, as Louis expertly wrapped the length of fabric around his neck, weaving it through just so on the first attempt and leaving the long end draped down the front of his shirt.

“Surely it hasn’t been two hundred years since you last did this?” David asked incredulously.

Louis beamed and nodded. “A little less than that, but tie a cravat every day for a few decades and it becomes difficult to forget.” He laughed lightly.

David lifted the waistcoat and held it while Louis slipped his arms in. “Truly magnificent!”

“My one concession to Lestat. He wanted me in velvet, green naturally, with every inch bejeweled and filigreed.” Louis grinned as he fastened each pearl button. “So I allowed the extravagant waistcoat and I will admit I am rather pleased with the way it turned out.”

David admired the tapestry in metallic threads. “I presume the silver and gold are real, but whatever did they use for the blue and green. Or is that a teal?”

“I have no idea, to tell the truth. But as many times as Lestat has described us as running around in ‘peacock colors,’ I could hardly resist the motif when the designer showed his samples.”

Tipping his head, David smiled. “Oh my! The pattern forms peacock plumes, doesn’t it? Exquisitely subtle! I might never have noticed had you not called attention to it. The black silk background mutes and yet heightens the colors. Simply splendid, Louis.”

“Thank you, David.” He stepped before the looking glass and adjusted his tie, tugging it delicately to position the folds of silk over the ruffles of his shirt, adding a little depth to the ensemble.

David presented the coat and assisted hefting it onto Louis’s shoulders. “It seems a little heavy for silk.”

Louis’s cheeks flushed. “Thermal interior. As I said, the authenticity of the suit is questionable.” He smiled. “But the inner lining is concealed and the result is much warmer while adding little weight. Daniel explained how he has been doing this for years.”

“I must query my tailor when I’m next in London.” David’s eyes inspected Louis’s attire with approval.

Louis turned back to the glass and smoothed the silk coat, the blue so deep it was nearly black. The polished threads of the fabric had a sheen not unlike velvet. Tailored at the waist, the coat flared wide, becoming full at the hem just above his knees. He gently freed the lace cuffs of his sleeves so they peeked out enticingly from the bolder, broader cuffs of the coat. He reached under his hair to run his fingers along the stiff upright collar, perfectly framing his tie, and down the lapels.

The coat was adorned with a narrow geometric, almost Egyptian, filigree in silver along the edge of the collar, lapels, and around each cuff. The same silver thread was laced over the large silk-covered buttons. Tiny blue sapphires woven into the design were nearly invisible until they caught the light as he moved before the glass. Louis nodded, satisfied in the way the coat’s adornment formed a median between the intricate waistcoat and the uninterrupted field of blue.

“A stunning suit of clothes,” David uttered.

“I am pleased with it,” Louis said, turning and halting abruptly when he saw David had his brush poised. “Oh, don’t be absurd! Please, David. Thank you, but you have exceeded all generosity as it is. And you have yourself to dress yet.”

David chuckled and reluctantly surrendered the brush. “Very well, Louis. You are correct, of course. Thank you for allowing me to assist.”

Louis took his hand and pulled him into an embrace. “The pleasure was most assuredly mine.” He smiled as David stepped away. “Thank you.”

He began brushing his hair after David had gone, the lustrous black waves cascading over his shoulders. He stared at it in the glass. “I should probably cut it,” he muttered to his reflection.

“Do it and you die! Again!” Lestat said from out in the sitting room, laughing as he stepped into the bedroom. His hand flew to his breast when he saw Louis. “Mon Dieu!”

Louis tossed the brush on the bed. “And I could say the same for you! My God, Lestat! You look marvelous.” He ran his hands over his maker’s velvet suit.

“You shouldn’t sound so surprised, mon petit,” Lestat scolded. His blue-gray eyes followed in wonder as he let his fingers trail down Louis’s lapels and tarry on his waistcoat. “I didn’t think all that silk would work, but you certainly pulled it off, even if it’s not in green.”

“Nonsense. This deep emerald has always suited you far better than it ever did me. Sets off your hair perfectly.” His finger traced the intricate gold filigree covering the lapels of his maker’s coat. The same rich pattern flowered across his waistcoat. “You look wonderful, Lestat.”

Lestat grinned, draped an arm around his fledgling’s shoulders, and turned him to the glass. “We are a pair, aren’t we?”

Louis laughed. The image might well be a photograph of their first years together. “This is so familiar! I should complain about something just to make it complete.”

“And I suppose I would necessarily remind you that you are hopelessly sentimental.” Lestat kissed him quickly. “I do love that waistcoat.”

Louis unwound himself and returned his brush to its drawer in the armoire. “I knew you would.”

“Transparent, am I?” Sitting atop Louis’s chest, Lestat patted the wood beside him. “Come. Sit with me.”

Louis sat, drawing up one knee so he could face his maker.

Taking his fledgling’s hands gently, Lestat’s expression faded, becoming serious. “Louis, it’s almost time to go and in a few minutes, all hell is going to break loose and you won’t know a moment’s peace until you’re whisked aboard Armand’s jet, streaking off to parts unknown.” He grinned wickedly. “Which is a season in a secluded villa on the Côte d’Azur, by the way.”

“Lestat!” Louis wrapped his arms around his maker and was startled by the gripping pressure he received in return. “It’s perfect.”

“Blue everywhere,” Lestat whispered, his voice faltering. “More clean, crisp air than you’ll know what to do with.” He cleared his throat and released Louis. “I’ll announce it later, of course, in my own retiring fashion.” He smiled when Louis laughed. “So if you want to surprise Chérie, let me know when you’ve told her.”

Louis shook his head. “I’d like her to hear it from you.”

“Fine. There’s a parcel for you in the stateroom on the plane that contains everything. A copy of the lease. Directions from the airport, though a limo will be waiting. Passports that show you’re American so they don’t try to draft you the moment they hear your accent.” He laughed. “And a Eurail pass, at Daniel’s suggestion, in case you feel like taking the train. The keys are in there, as well, for the villa and the cars. And letters of introduction for my Paris agent.” Lestat covered Louis’s hands with his. “The trip is my gift, Louis, so don’t complain. You and Chérie shouldn’t be bothered with these things. Whatever you need, tickets to the opera, a flat in the city, anything at all, let my man arrange it for you. But be certain to contact him just before you return. He’ll want some information about the villa.”

“What sort of information?”

Lestat shrugged. “I believe he also represents the owners and they like to get appraisals from their tenants.” He shook his head and laughed. “Or he’s trying to buy it for himself, I’m not sure. He stressed getting your honest opinion rather determinedly. Oh, and something about the villa. There’s a rooftop terrace with a staircase that allows a straight drop three floors down. Into darkness.” He waved his hand dismissively. “If you want to do a little sunbathing.” He winked.

Louis laughed aloud. “You really hate how pale I’ve become, don’t you? I’ll think about it,” he conceded quickly, before his maker could protest. “Thank you, Lestat. Your impeccable attention to detail never ceases to amaze me. But promise me one thing? That you’ll come find us if you need us at all?” His finger shot up and he grinned. “Now, I expect you to use some discretion, but don’t be stubborn either.”

Lestat shook his head. “You know I won’t do that, Louis. Besides, you’ll only be gone a few months. Give me a chance to see if you’ve ruined me so much I can’t stand to be around myself anymore.” He laughed mischievously. “And there’s always the renovation of Chérie’s house.”

“Renovation?” Louis frowned. “You mentioned wallpaper, Lestat. Anything further involving the walls, especially moving them, and you should allow Chérie into your confidence.”

“She knows me well enough to understand I would not stop there,” his maker said.

Louis laughed silently. “Perhaps. But please consult her anyway?”

Before Lestat could respond, Armand stepped into the room. “Are you two ready? The limo is here.”

“David and Marius?” Lestat asked.

“Already gone. Let’s go and get this over with.”

Louis rose, smiling. “Armand, my friend.” He ran his long fingers down Armand’s coat, identical in cut to his own and Lestat’s, though in unbroken black velvet. His waistcoat was a simple brocade in claret, burgundy, and russet, a fine gold thread winding its way through the fiery pattern. He looked back into the large, brown eyes but they were locked on Lestat.

His maker’s expression was distant, centuries away, peaceful yet aggrieved. His parted lips suddenly pressed together and he determinedly tore his gaze away. In the next instant, he was on his feet, as if the moment had never occurred.

“Let’s go,” he said, striding from the room.

Louis furrowed his brow. “What was that about, my friend?”

Amusement warmed the soft eyes. “First love. Now come, before he leaves us to fight our way through your mortal fans.”

“Please don’t torment him, Armand,” Louis said as they stepped from his rooms.

“He torments himself.” He held the backdoor for Louis and they found Lestat waiting for them beside the fountain.

“Do you have everything?” Louis asked his maker. “Rings, license, whatever else is needed?”

Lestat patted his breast and took his fledgling’s arm as Armand led them through the covered carriageway and out to the waiting Rolls Royce. Armand spoke quietly with the driver before sliding onto the leather seat beside them.

“We will take an indirect route, to avoid being followed,” Armand announced. He touched Louis’s shoulder. “Relax, Louis.”

Lestat giggled and pressed his fingers to his lips when Louis glared at him.

Louis could not hold his scowl, however, seeing no cruelty in his maker’s eyes. Only love. He smiled and slid his fingers under Lestat’s, intertwining them, feeling his maker’s steady pulse through his palm and allowing it to calm his own rapid heartbeat. Good Lord! Had he ever been this anxious about anything in his life? He breathed deeply.

“Yes, by all means, breathe, Louis,” Lestat said. “It’s only stage fright and you have felt this before.” He turned from the window. “But tonight, our places are reversed, bien-aimé.”

Louis smiled. He suspected his maker was enjoying his new role but he said nothing.

After leaving the Quarter and then returning on the Rue Chartres, the car slowed, halting at the corner of St. Peter, alongside the Cabildo. The cathedral loomed in the center of the block.

“I will leave you here,” Armand said. He touched Louis’s hand. “We shall meet again inside.” He opened the door and stepped out. Bending to peer inside, he addressed himself to Lestat. “He is under your protection.”

When Lestat nodded, Armand closed the door and the car rolled onward.

Louis frowned.

His maker shrugged, a faint smile on his lips as he spoke. “Ceremony. Armand does love ceremony.” He sighed. “As best man, I am your champion. The last bastion against any harm befalling you. Steadfastly by your side.” A sharp laugh and he shook his head. “Armand will secure the area, as it were, clearing out any pockets of danger before rejoining us in the cathedral.”

“What dangers could there possibly be?” Louis asked, amused. The image of champion and lieutenant was far too romantic to take seriously.

“Here we are,” Lestat said, ignoring the question. The car had taken a path usually reserved for the vehicles of the clergy, stopping before the rectory. As they waited for the driver to open the door, Lestat regarded his fledgling with utter calm. “With all of us in one place, there is always danger. And we have never gathered so publicly.”

Louis slid from the car and nodded when the driver tipped the bill of his cap. Yes, it was true what Lestat said. Nameless revenants, curious mortals, ardent fans. Talamasca, perhaps, though their threat was in the detail they kept.

He glanced up at the imposing spires of the St. Louis Cathedral. Tiny, certainly, when compared to the great gothic wonders of Europe, but still a magical sight. He remembered his awe when this magnificent structure had arisen over the ashes of its predecessor, which had succumbed to flames in seventeen eighty-eight. He had himself contributed heavily to its resurrection, though he had given it little thought at the time, feeding the Church but another duty. And it certainly had little to do with the permanence he’d felt seeing the turrets rise over the city for the first time, the striking realization that his New Orleans would endure. The pivotal moments of his life seemed converged on the rapid ascension of this building.

“The monuments of mortal man,” Lestat said, following his gaze. “I remember seeing it that first night, coming up the Bayou St. Jean and knowing I’d found my home.”

“Home, yes.” Louis smiled.

The rectory door opened and Father Michel emerged. The priest, in his early forties, was seasoned enough for tolerance, Maharet had said, not prone to overreact as a younger priest might or fall to paralyzing fear as with the more aged clergy.

He saw their glances and descended a few steps so he might turn to look up at the cathedral.

“Every so often,” the priest mused, “usually when my mind is weighed upon, something up there suddenly catches my eye and I will be halted by the sheer beauty, as if seeing it anew.” He turned and smiled at them. “Bonsoir, messieurs.”

Louis smiled. “Good evening, Father.” Though from an old French family, Father Michel was American, his French more a remembrance from two years abroad early in his career.

The priest shook his head in wonder as he surveyed their suits, his short black hair swishing gently above his ears, his few silver strands catching the light. His clear brown eyes twinkled at Lestat. “You said this would be an old-fashioned wedding, monsieur, but such authentic period attire!” He ushered them into the rectory, the two vampires towering over his modest height as they passed. “As you know, I also have the privilege of maintaining the cathedral’s records,” he explained. His smile seemed almost guilty. “And I must admit I have spent many happy hours in the archives here, and with the public records, learning of New Orleans during the first days of this cathedral.”

“Yes, a fascinating time,” Lestat said, winking at Louis as the priest secured the door. “I found it enjoyable myself.”

Father Michel nodded as he led them through a labyrinth of hallways. “To research such apparel, I suppose you must.” They entered a small chamber of whitewashed plaster, sparingly furnished.

He invited them to sit on the severe wooden bench affixed to one wall, its varnish softened by the centuries. “You may wait here. I must see to my vestments and will then ensure the bridal party has arrived before we enter the chapel.” He took Lestat’s hand in both of his, seemingly impervious to the icy touch. “It will be a pleasure being attended by the best man and maid of honor. It is so rarely done anymore. Merci beaucoup.” The priest smiled warmly before excusing himself.

Louis shook his head as he lowered himself onto the bench. “We should have worn gloves.” He let out a single laugh. “And I can only imagine his reaction if he comes across my name in the original registries.”

Lestat laughed quietly. “Everything is fine, Louis.” He sat and idly ran a finger along Louis’s hair. “Don’t fret, mon petit. It will all be beautiful.”

“Yes. Relax,” Louis chided himself, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. His brow furrowed and he turned a quizzical expression on his maker. “Chapel?”

“The main sanctuary would be too difficult to secure,” Lestat explained. “And as beautiful as it is, making Chérie cross that emptiness wouldn’t do. So you will be married in the private chapel, where the clergy make their devotions.” He grinned. “It’s the more stunning sanctuary, at any rate.”

Louis turned, drawing a leg under him so he might face his maker. “You’ve done well, Lestat,” he said, seeing his affection mirrored in his maker’s eyes. “Everything is perfect and it’s all your doing. You take very good care of us.”

Lestat scowled. “Oh, don’t go getting maudlin on me, Louis!” Yet, he could not keep from smiling.

Louis?

I am here, my love, he answered quickly.

“What is it?” his maker asked, concerned.

Louis shook his head and smiled. “Chérie has arrived. She must be terribly anxious to break her silence like that.” His smile faded as he saw a shadow cross his maker’s blue-gray eyes. “You know, Lestat. There were many times I wished you could read my thoughts, but none so much as at this moment.” He took his maker’s hand and studied his strong fingers, the carefully tended nails. “Then I could show you how truly selfless you have been through all of this.”

“You fool yourself again, Louis.”

He smiled. “Yes, frequently. But face it, Lestat. Sometimes you are a nice guy. And this is one of those times.” Louis’s green eyes scanned the room in wonder. “You forget that now I know what you gave up when you agreed to make Chérie. Good Lord, Lestat! I could never have done that! I could never endure the silence.”

“You, Louis?” Lestat laughed incredulously. “Of course you could.” He sought Louis’s gaze. “For love, you would.”

Louis smiled. “Exactly,” he said with a triumphant sigh. “Your sacrifice was for love, the gift from your heart. See it as it really is!”

Lestat leaned away from him suddenly, confusion obscuring his features. Slowly, his eyes widened as the recognition of his words and his own actions crept in, though his head shook defiantly. His lips moved as if to speak, but no words came. He stood hastily and Louis rose with him, startled by the rapid change he felt swelling in his maker. The tiny room seemed instantly charged, electric. Every hair, prickling.

Standing close behind, Louis wrapped an arm around Lestat’s chest, resting his palm over the spot where he knew his maker’s heart was twisting, just as his was. His voice was urgent and low. “Don’t try to speak. It’s all right, Lestat. Everything is perfect and, for now, that is enough.” He could feel Lestat’s heart pounding beneath his touch, the love loosed within his maker. “Know that I feel this, too. And yes, my beloved, that we understand without visions.”

Lestat shook his head slowly. “Human love?” he asked, his awed whisper barely audible. He whipped around to face Louis, any more words catching before they could find voice. Lestat ran his hands over Louis’s face, down his arms, and back to his face, as if assuring himself his fledgling was real.

Louis breathed deeply, closing his eyes, relishing his maker’s touch. “Yes, but more than that, as we are more than human.” He opened his eyes and cupped his maker’s face in his hand while smoothing back the brilliant hair. There wasn’t much time. Louis forced his voice into a tone he hadn’t used in two hundred years. Calm, assured, and undeniable. A master’s voice. “You’ve spoken of it yourself, Lestat, of our true silent voices. You understood it even then. Hold onto that for now. That you knew, that you’ve always known.” His gaze shifted abruptly to the door. “Armand and the priest are coming.”

His maker seemed distraught. “Now? And what of Chérie?”

Louis smiled. “You gave this gift to us both, Lestat.”

“I gave?”

“Yes, and we won’t go anywhere until we can talk about this. We won’t go anywhere,” he repeated firmly and Lestat appeared to calm. Louis smiled wickedly. “Now, we’re going to go get me married and you will kindly do me the favor of not falling so madly in love with the night that you forget yourself.”

Lestat frowned for several long seconds, recognizing something in his fledgling’s words. Then he burst out laughing. “Oh Louis! You’ve waited a long time to have back at me for that, haven’t you?”

“All my life, it seems,” Louis said warmly. “Are you ready?”

A mild panic still lighted his maker’s eyes as footsteps approached. The feelings were too strong to conceal.

Louis leaned over and whispered in his ear hurriedly. “I would have let you rot in that mortal body, you know.”

Lestat instantly glowered at him.

“That’s my Lestat,” Louis said, beaming with affection. “Now cover those teeth!”

Father Michel appeared in the doorway but waited for Armand to enter first.

The auburn-haired vampire eyed Lestat warily. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked Louis.

Louis peered at his maker before turning a puzzled expression on Armand. “Nothing. Why do you ask, my friend?”

Lestat suppressed a giggle.

“Never mind. But I will find out. You know this.”

“Yes, of course,” Louis said. “Is everything in readiness?”

Armand nodded. “Everyone is here.”

Father Michel touched Louis’s shoulder. “Yes, if you are ready, we may begin.” He smiled kindly.

Louis nodded and returned his smile.

The priest led the way down the hallway, followed by Louis and Lestat, with Armand in the rear. They walked in silence, turning twice before Father Michel ushered them into the sacristy. Through the open door to his right, Louis could see the dimly lighted main sanctuary, the gilded statuary saints ghostly in the long shadows. They moved to the left and into an anteroom.

Father Michel came and took Louis’s hands, smiling up at him kindly. “I wanted to remind you briefly that because of your allergy to grains and inability to consume the Host, we will be celebrating the modified Eucharist. Chérie, in her wish to be your complete partner in this life, requested and has been granted dispensation to share this celebration with you.”

Louis glanced at his maker and then smiled at the priest gratefully. “Thank you, Father.”

Father Michel grinned. “Now I have never had occasion to celebrate the modified Eucharist so if I may explain, for myself as much as for these other gentlemen.”

“Please, Father,” Louis prompted.

“Thank you. When the Host is presented and you offer your response, rather than placing the Host in your hand or on your tongue, I will only touch the Host to your tongue and then retain the wafer. Now, is that sufficient?” The priest’s concern filled his brown eyes. “I understand, in some cases, even this much contact may prove harmful.”

Louis smiled. “No, my physician assures me this is quite safe. Thank you for your concern, Father.”

The priest seemed relieved. “Very good! I have already instructed Chérie on this matter. But if you’ll excuse me for one moment, I’ll give one last check on the bridal party to ensure they are ready. It won’t take a moment.”

“Certainly, Father,” Louis said, watching until the priest had slipped out the door they’d entered. He turned to Lestat. “And exactly how did you know about this, docteur de Lioncourt?”

“You should read more than literature and philosophy, Louis. There’s a whole world of ghastly diseases out there terrifying mortals.”

Louis’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yes, but why no warning? You only just discovered this, didn’t you?”

His maker grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Four days ago, as I was clearing the last of the things out of the orphanage. There were stacks of papers explaining modern Catholic practices and I found this one thankfully near the top.”

Louis smiled. “And if you hadn’t found it?”

“Take it on the tongue, wait a moment, and then cough it into your hand.” Lestat smiled. “Crude, I’ll admit, but effective.”

“Sounds like something you would do, ratcatcher,” Armand sneered.

Lestat laughed. “You’re correct, of course. I hated going to Confession. It seemed a perfect waste of a morning. Much preferred being out with my dogs. But I couldn’t exactly let my father know that, could I?” His smile was centuries removed.

Louis watched, amazed. “Good memories, Lestat? About your father?”

His maker nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. I have a few.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Louis said, smiling. “I liked your father, very much.”

“Why, thank you, Pollyanna.” Lestat winked.

Armand regarded Lestat blankly. “Something is wrong.”

Louis sighed. “Nothing is wrong except that I’m a complete...how did Daniel say it?”

“Basketcase, I believe it was,” Lestat offered.

“Yes, thank you. A complete basketcase.”

“A few nerves, Louis?” Father Michel asked, rejoining them. “Well, action conquers fear and the ladies are ready, so we can get started.” He gestured for Armand to lead the way.

Armand’s fingers hesitated for an instant beside the small fount of holy water by the entrance to the chapel before he dampened a finger. Touching it to his forehead, he made the Sign of the Cross and passed through the door.

Louis smiled. No burns mysteriously appeared on his friend, the walls did not tremble, and there was not one peep of thunder. They remained the only supernatural presence in the building, following as mortals did, and as Lestat had insisted, every tiny tradition of the Church. It would be a proper wedding, his maker had said repeatedly. He felt certain Lestat would have enlisted a detachment of Swiss Guards, were such a thing still possible, as had been common practice until the colony became American.

Lestat gave Louis a quick kiss on each cheek before dipping his finger and crossing himself. Louis followed suit, as did the priest.

Bowing hastily before the altar, Louis smiled at the gathered vampires and gazed about the chapel. Lestat was correct, the smaller sanctuary was stunning. The architecture, while harkening of the main sanctuary, was more intimate and, strangely, more human. The few candles warmed the space with a mild, amber light. A room for quiet contemplation.

Louis leaned over to his maker. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, smiling when Lestat beamed.

The priest motioned for everyone to rise. Louis, Lestat, and Armand turned toward the back of the chapel. Over the heads of the other vampires, Louis saw Maharet enter first, in a long gown, the soft wool dyed pale indigo, the lines elegant and timeless, the skirt flaring wide at the hem. The full-length sleeves were trimmed at the wrist with pure white Bruxelles lace, the same lace forming a collar around the modest neckline.

Then Jesse entered, her gown in light emerald green satin, but otherwise identical to Maharet’s.

Finally, Daniel stepped into the chapel with Chérie gently on his arm. She carried a perfect white rose, a sprig of Queen’s Wreath delicately entwined about its long stem.

Her eyes sought Louis’s and when they locked, he nearly wept. The tightness around his heart seemed to swell as they slowly approached. Her gown was identical to the others. Yet in snowy white silk, it had an unmatched radiance. She alone wore a hat, low of crown, moderate brim, covered in the same white silk. From it hung a half-veil that appeared dusted in diamond flakes. Or was it simply her eyes sparkling behind it?

Louis smiled and touched his maker’s hand when he felt it squeeze his shoulder. If anyone uttered a sound in the chapel, he could not hear it. He heard only her approach, the rustling of her gown like the breeze through her walnut tree, her heart pounding like his.

I love you, they told each other silently.

He felt a tear slowly steal down his cheek. Lestat’s handkerchief quietly appeared in his hand and he dried the tear, stuffing the linen into his pocket as Daniel delivered Chérie into his hands. He immediately pressed her fingers to his lips and then they faced the priest.

“Who gives this woman to be married?” Louis heard the priest ask, and he could hear the amusement in his adopted fledgling’s voice as he replied.

“Her father and I do,” Daniel said.

He glanced at Chérie to see her smile. The strange deafness deepened, for Louis was vaguely aware the priest was offering a prayer and they had knelt to receive his blessing. He could only hear the beating of her heart, pounding an identical rhythm with his. He felt her smooth flesh in his hand, wondering at every tiny curve between each delicate bone.

Scripture was read but he heard none of it, stealing glimpses of her as they knelt and stood, knelt and stood. His smile grew with every passing moment, his heart bursting. Dear God! This is love!

“Will the best man and maid of honor present the gifts?”

Louis watched Jesse approach the priest holding the small golden plate and Lestat, the chalice. For the small service, the priest prepared the gifts in front of them rather than on the altar. As the priest began to prepare the wine, his gaze seemed to cloud. In that moment, Lestat carefully gashed his wrist and allowed his blood to spill into the chalice. He then presented the cup to the priest, as if prepared, and the prayers continued.

The priest offered the Host. “The Body of Christ.”

“Amen,” Louis responded and the priest touched the wafer to his tongue. The priest repeated the modified presentation with Chérie.

Then he offered the cup to Louis. “The Blood of Christ.”

“Amen,” Louis again responded, taking the cup and drinking half its contents, glancing up at Lestat over its rim as the still-warm blood tingled through him.

The priest offered the chalice to Chérie. She responded and drained the cup. A hushed snicker escaped one of the vampires behind them and Louis grinned.

They rose and turned to face each other. Taking her hands, Louis was immediately lost in her blue-gray eyes. So clear, so full of love for him.

The priest was asking questions quietly.

He heard himself answering, repeating the words. Louis could only feel her pulse racing through her fingers.

“May I have the rings, please?”

Louis turned to see Lestat step forward and set two rings in Father Michel’s hands. The priest said a brief prayer over the rings and handed one to Louis.

As Louis slid the ring on Chérie’s finger, he repeated the priest’s words. He smiled as he pivoted the white gold band on her finger, interlocking the teardrop-cut, flawless, white diamond with its sapphire mate. Together, they formed one round stone, in an ancient symbol of harmony.

She gasped silently.

The priest handed her the second ring, a wider band in white gold, inlaid with an identical set of the twin stones.

As she slid it on Louis’s finger, she echoed his words.

Father Michel spread his arms wide and joyously spoke a few more words. When the gathered vampires began applauding, Louis gently folded the veil back over her hat and took Chérie in his arms, pressing her close, kissing her. She pulled the hat free as he reached to stroke her hair, her cheek, kissing away the blood tears the moment they appeared.

And the cathedral’s bells began chiming midnight. They all halted, looking up for a moment, listening to the peals of bells.

Then Jesse and Maharet had Chérie in their arms. Armand put his arm around Louis’s waist and gave him a squeeze. Louis tipped his head and kissed his friend’s cheek.

“That was worth all the fuss,” Armand admitted. “Daniel wants to get a few pictures, if you can stand it.”

Louis laughed. “I just might.”

“First, you and Chérie need to sign the register,” Lestat said, and stepped to draw Chérie to Louis. “Now stay together, you two. For a few minutes, at least.”

“Hey!” came a voice behind them and they turned, waving when they saw Daniel with a video camera. Even Louis smiled.

Lestat ushered the newlyweds back into the sacristy, while Daniel, who had hastily thrust the camera into Marius’ hands, and Armand escorted Maharet and Jesse. Signatures were quickly scrawled and they all filed out, leaving Father Michel, smiling and waving, at the altar.

Outside, the four limousines stood idling, and they piled in, Louis and Chérie, Lestat and Jesse in the lead car. As they rolled towards the townhouse, Louis drew Chérie onto his lap and nuzzled in close to her ear.

“Bonsoir, Madame de Pointe du Lac.”

A shudder ran through her. “I love the sound of that,” she whispered.

Louis laughed, kissing her again.

Lestat made an idle gesture to the air. “Do you see what I’ve had to put up with for two years?” he asked Jesse. “Don’t they just make you want to vomit?”

“I’m sure if I could remember how, I would,” she agreed. Her expression quickly changed to one of mock-sympathy. She stroked Lestat’s gleaming hair. “You poor thing!”

The car pulled up in the Rue Royale, the driver jumping out to open the door. Louis stepped from the car and a chorus of shouts went up across the street. He glanced up, aghast, before glaring at his maker over the car’s roof.

“The word seems to have spread, Lestat. Get the gate,” he said. Louis quickly leaned down and spoke to Chérie. “The crowd over there is much larger than I’ve ever seen. Let’s run for cover. We can make an appearance on the balcony once we’re safely inside, if you like.”

She nodded quickly, scooping up her hat and the rose. Taking his hand, they strode straight-away for the gate as Lestat held it open. As they entered the courtyard, they heard another round of shouts go up as the next car disgorged its occupants. And then for one brief moment, all they heard was each other’s steps on the flagstones and the water splashing.

They circled the fountain and met again on the other side, Louis catching her around the waist and turning her to their silent music. She laughed and the music swelled. He pulled her close.

“I love you, Chérie,” he said, covering her lips with his briefly. He breathed deeply of the blooming vines. “Their fragrance will always remind me of this moment, and that I will never be alone again.” Louis smiled. “I’m glad you wanted to wait for the flowers to bloom, my love. My wife!” He laughed.

“I love the sound of your laughter,” she said and then grinned. “My husband. I love you, Louis. Now, come. Let’s go upstairs so I can dump this hat and see what a mess I’ve made of my hair.”

He ran his long fingers over her chocolate tresses. “It’s perfect, my love.” But they mounted the stairs anyway.

At the top, he pulled her close again and grinned broadly. He opened the door and shoved his boot against the frame, quickly scooping her off her feet. She let out a surprised laugh that caused him to grin even wider. He kicked the door open and carried her inside. Louis did not set her down until they were in his bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Our bedroom,” he said aloud, sitting on the bed while she quickly attended her hair. “Everything I have is yours, Chérie. The house is Lestat’s, of course. I signed it over to him in eighteen...eighteen....” He waved his hand at the air and fell over backwards on the bed. “Eighteen something!”

Chérie giggled, watching him in the glass. “Eighteen sixty-two. And you sound drunk, Louis.”

He sprang from the bed and slipped his arms around her. “I am drunk. Intoxicated,” he said. “And I pray I’m never sober again.” He pushed her hair aside and kissed the smooth contour of her neck.

“You’re going to get a face full of bristles that way, Monsieur de Pointe du Lac.” She wriggled free. “And as much as I like Lestat’s lukewarm blood, it was hardly a satisfying meal. From the look on your face, now stop that!” she scolded, when he crinkled his nose at her. “You thirst as badly as I do. So, real food tonight before any necking.” She laughed.

Louis’s eyes lighted. “Oh! There’s something I want to show you! You look beautiful, so put down that brush and come with me.”

She took his hand as he led her to the study. The computer was still turned on and a clip of Louis was playing. He grimaced at it as he sat in the chair and pulled her onto his lap.

“How many of these play?” She held up four fingers and he nodded. “Do you know if Lestat knows how to...yes, he does! Watch!”

The sunset clip played. He held her gently so she wouldn’t tip as she leaned forward to watch it. “Oh, my God,” she gasped, grabbing the keyboard and typing passwords fast. She started navigating through folders without using the mouse, something he hadn’t figured out yet, and had soon found the tiny clip. She set up the clip to loop continuously and set it off, dropping the keyboard on the desk.

“That’s my Louis,” she whispered, leaning back against him as he kissed her cheek. “Oh, and look at your hair! My Louis watching a sunset.” She laughed quietly, delighted, and then regarded him curiously. “How ever did you accomplish that?”

“Lestat woke me early this evening, right after he rose, apparently. Before David, if that helps.”

Chérie nodded. “I’m usually up before David. But how, Louis? How did Lestat wake you? I’ve tried dozens of times, and all different manners.”

“Try blood,” he said, a little embarrassed. “It seems you need to slit your wrist to get me out of bed.”

She giggled. “How much?”

“I was asleep, remember?” he teased. “But I think he put a few drops on my lip to get my attention and then gashed his wrist because I remember one sudden mouthful. That was enough to make my arms move, at least.”

Footsteps approached and Lestat sauntered into the room.

“You showed her already?” he said, grinning and sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk.

Louis shrugged. “My first sunset in a couple hundred years? Can you blame me for being a little excited about it?” He smiled. “Thank you, Lestat.”

“Did you shoot this, mon père?”

“Oui, madame. And edited. And looped in the soundtrack.”

“Shoot! I hadn’t notice there was a soundtrack!” She grabbed the keyboard and turned up the volume. Her brows knitted. “Nice violin work, but I don’t recognize the piece. Where did you get it?”

Lestat shook his head. “Later, ma chère. You have guests, and dances to dance.” He remembered something. “And we need to talk about something important.”

Chérie was confused by the sudden solemnity in his voice. “What is it, Lestat? What’s happened?”

Louis smiled kindly. “Lestat had a little breakthrough tonight at the church.”

Chérie slid out of his lap and was instantly in her maker’s arms. “Oh, Lestat!”

Lestat looked up at Louis, confused, but a smile slowly blossomed over his lips. Louis nodded and smiled, and their maker wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

More footsteps approached and Eric came to stand in the doorway. One look at Lestat and his face blanched.

“Maharet will be here in just a moment. She’ll want to see this for herself.” He smiled warmly at the yellow-haired vampire. “It was a beautiful service, Lestat. You did a marvelous job.”

Lestat smiled hesitantly. “Thank you, Eric. I truly appreciate hearing that. Now, exactly what is it that Maharet will want to see?”

“You, Lestat,” Maharet said, stepping around Eric. She smiled at Louis and then Chérie. “My best wishes go out to the both of you. But you know that, of course. If I could bother you for the use of your rooms for a moment, I’d like to have a private word with the master of the house, if it’s all right with him?” She turned to Lestat.

He regarded her skeptically. “There are no chains involved this time, I trust?”

“None at all,” she said.

Lestat nodded his consent to Louis and returned Chérie’s kiss fondly. They were almost at the door to the gallery when Louis whirled and reentered the study, dropping down before his maker and taking his hand tightly.

“Remember what I told you last night, Lestat.” Louis’s voice was earnest. “If you need me, nothing will keep me from coming through that door.”

“Or me,” Chérie said from the doorway, arms determinedly folded across her chest. She, too, had turned back.

Louis looked up at her proudly before turning back to their maker. “Do you see us now, Lestat?”

Their maker had also been watching her proudly, and the same gaze came to rest upon Louis. He drew his fledgling into his arms. “Such children I have,” he whispered. Lestat quickly pushed Louis away and ran his hands over his face. He nodded slowly. “I see you now, Louis. Leave us for a while, it’s all right. But thank you, Louis.” He glanced up. “Thank you, Chérie. Now go, dance!” He laughed.

They took his hands briefly before leaving him, stepping onto the gallery and closing the tall French doors. Chérie leaned against them. Her gaze was deadly serious.

“I’m frightened, Louis.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I can’t move very fast for any distance in this dress. You have better mobility. Find David and Gabrielle.”

“Yes, they should be here,” Louis said, nodding, and he immediately set off for David’s rooms. He found Gabrielle chatting with Marius in the sitting room.

“My apologies for simply rushing in here,” Louis said, “but Gabrielle, something happened tonight with Lestat and he may need a show of support. Chérie waits at our rooms. Oh, pardon, but do you know where David might be found?”

Gabrielle was already on her feet. “I believe David was starting a fire in the front parlor.” As Louis turned, Marius rose.

“May I join you, Marquise?”

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

Louis entered the front parlor to find David staring into the little fire in the grate. Daniel sat at the spinet, plucking at the keys.

“David, please forgive my abruptness but Lestat may need our assistance. I must rejoin Chérie at our rooms.” He turned to go.

“Of course, Louis,” David said, following quickly.

“Count me in,” Daniel said, sliding off the bench.

They strode down the hallway to the little gathering at the doors to his rooms. Louis smiled politely and excused himself until he stood before Chérie. She clasped his hands.

“Have you heard anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Though Lestat may have laughed a moment ago.” She smiled at Gabrielle and David, who had pressed close.

Louis spoke quietly. “Earlier this evening, Lestat had a minor crisis when he realized exactly how selfless some of his actions have been in recent years, beginning with his making Chérie.”

David nodded. “A complete reversal to how I was made, which he persists in referring to as rape. Absurd, of course.” He shook his head. “So all these changes have been accumulating and he hasn’t seen them? My Lord! That must have been quite a shock!”

“Perhaps,” Louis conceded. “Maharet is speaking with him now. And I don’t need to remind you, David, what their last private interview meant to him. He certainly has not forgotten.”

Chérie sighed, her brows low, frustrated. “And there is another aspect of this, but it is far too complex to explain on the doorstep, as it were.” She gave a tiny shake of her head.

“I have felt this,” said Armand, who had joined them, a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

Louis nodded once and smiled. “Yes, my friend. This is what you felt. I could not explain at the cathedral, there was no time.”

Armand tenderly touched Gabrielle’s arm. “It is real and it is deep, this is all I know.” He searched her cobalt eyes, something silently passing between them, and she dipped her chin, acknowledging his concern.

The doors opened and Chérie turned as Maharet appeared.

The red-haired vampire beamed proudly. “I am glad to see you gathered in this way. He is fine.”

She met Louis’s gaze and he could feel her happiness. A tremor of relief raced through him.

“He needs to speak with you,” she continued, turning to the others briefly. “Only Louis for the moment.” She stepped back to allow his passage.

Louis hurriedly bent to kiss Chérie. “If anything is amiss, you’ll know it,” he assured her as he slipped inside.

Maharet closed the doors. “You are his confidant, Louis, and it is your strength that has carried him through this.”

They stepped into his study and Lestat rose from his chair as they entered.

“Mon Dieu!” Louis’s hands immediately flew to his mouth. Ghastly red streaks cut line after line down his maker’s cheeks, the blood tears drying, or dried and caking. But in Lestat’s eyes was a fire that burned, an inextinguishable light.

Lestat held out his arms. “Do I look so terrible, mon petit? There was not much I could do because you have my handkerchief.” And he smiled.

Louis felt his connection with his maker as if it were a living thing. The undisguised affection radiating from Lestat matched his own. It magnetized him, as did the wondrous brilliance in his maker’s eyes, and he ventured a step closer. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he pulled Lestat’s handkerchief free.

“No, mon père,” Louis finally said. “You look spectacular.”

A fresh tear coursed down his maker’s face and Louis’s heart broke at the sight of it, stepping quickly to catch it before it fell onto Lestat’s suit. The new dampness aided as Louis gently wiped the tear stains from his maker’s cheek. His lips parted and a sigh escaped him as another fell, leaving a new track down the other cheek.

“It’s quite hopeless, I’m afraid,” Lestat said quietly.

Louis smiled and glanced up from wiping away the tears and was jolted when his eyes met Lestat’s, the blue fire consuming him. Immeasurable gardens, rainbows of light. He felt his maker’s arm hold him fast as his knees buckled, his head swimming.

“God!”

Lestat blinked, diminishing the fire. He shook his head. “No, Louis. I’m no god. And I’d make a terrible angel, so stop putting halos about my head. I care only about what I want to care about.” He smiled his malignant best. “But I seem to have remembered the face of Heaven, mon cher. And it appears to have a devastating effect. I thought I’d killed poor Maharet at one point. So until I learn to control it, I’m afraid I’m back to dark glasses.” He steadied Louis.

“Where do you keep them?” Louis asked.

“Bottom compartment of my jewelry armoire.”

Armand, he called silently.

Louis?

He is well. But bring every pair of glasses from the jewelry chest in your rooms.

Done.

And beware, my friend.

Louis smiled, feeling Armand’s amusement over the last warning. “They’re on their way,” he told his maker.

“Who?” Lestat asked, curious.

Louis grinned. “Armand.”

His maker laughed, and Louis delighted in the sound of it, so like the peals of bells they had only just heard at the cathedral. “You do have a mean streak, don’t you, Louis?”

“Only a little,” Louis admitted. “And I did warn him.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, just the same,” Lestat said, his strong fingers lightly stroking Louis’s hair. “And I love you, Louis. You spoke of my gifts to you and Chérie, but let me tell you of the gift you have given me.”

He drew his fledgling to the brocaded settee at the far end of the study. As they sat, holding hands, Louis carefully avoided his maker’s face.

“It’s all right to look at me. Louis, I need you to look at me.” He touched his face lightly along his cheekbone. “Look here and you can see the difference in my eyes, without looking at them.” He smiled as Louis dared look up and, seeing the eyes he’d known for centuries, met his maker’s gaze. Lestat’s eyes immediately brightened and Louis quickly turned his head.

But he laughed. “I will be your guinea pig, mon père.”

Lestat’s expression was stern. “No, Louis. You and Chérie will leave here tonight, as scheduled.” He smiled as Louis insistently shook his head. “Yes, my precious Louis. I do not make light of it, but in the end, it is simply another power to learn. And I will complete my selfless act without your interference, thank you.” He laughed.

“You have done so many, Lestat.”

“And I have had the most exquisite teacher to guide me,” his maker said, leaning to kiss Louis’s cheek delicately. “Without visions, with only our true silent voices as you called them, you have shown me what no other could. Chérie, of course, has been a blessing. To us both. But you, Louis?” He shook his head gently, his voice growing distant. “A long time ago, any sharp remark from me would silence you. And I regret using this over you. I was a fool, Louis, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Done,” Louis said quickly, eager for his maker to continue. He was basking in the abiding warmth, no longer a fragile thing to be skirted. The wonderment filled him as he had not imagined possible.

Lestat grinned. “Sometimes you’re too easy on me, bien-aimé.”

Louis smiled and glanced into his eyes. “Another of my many character flaws.”

His maker’s face fell. “Don’t say that, Louis. Please don’t ever say that again. Mon Dieu, this is what I’ve done to you!” Anger dulled Lestat’s gaze.

“Don’t dwell on it, Lestat. That time is past and I can make light of it now because I have survived.”

Lestat nodded, understanding, and his anger faded until only a deep sorrow clouded his gaze. “Louis, everything I ever counted against you was something I envied. Just saying ‘I’m happy in your company’ was impossible for me, and yet it spilled out your mouth as rain from the sky. I loved hearing you say it, but it infuriated me that I could not.” His eyes brightened and Louis lowered his gaze. “And then two years ago, you stopped taking it altogether.”

Louis shrugged. “I needed your help. Only with your strength behind me could I dare face my pain, to feel it all again. There was no choice for me but to risk your anger.”

“Perhaps,” Lestat allowed, nodding. “But after that, you continued ruthlessly expressing every emotion.”

“Opportunity,” Louis said, laughing quietly. “The door had been opened and I knew then that you could no longer hurt me. Chérie’s love gave me the courage to stand up to your barbs and I found I was incapable of loving you quietly anymore.” He sighed deeply. “And finally, I had to know, for myself, if I had indeed been deluding myself all those years about my love for you, and about your love for me. I could not forget that night in the Carmel Valley, Lestat, and the love in your eyes when you saw me. That was a most precious night.”

Lestat nodded. “As it was for me. Why do you think I can’t give up that ranch?” He laughed and kissed Louis tenderly, enfolding him in his arms.

A knock sounded on the door and when they stirred, Maharet waved for them to keep their seats. “You both have much to be thankful for,” she said as she stepped into the sitting room.

Lestat leaned close and whispered, “I don’t know if it will happen again, but watch Armand, his eyes.”

Louis nodded, grinning, and quickly kissed his maker. “I thank God you love me, Lestat.” He rose as Maharet led Armand into the room and his maker stood beside him.

“I am sorry, Louis. We needed a box, there were so many.” He handed the box to Louis and turned to the yellow-haired vampire. “Lestat, are you--”

Armand’s soft brown eyes blazed for one second and then rolled back into his head as he fell unconscious, Lestat hastening forward and catching him effortlessly before he could tumble to the floor.

“Good Lord!” Louis uttered, astonished. He glanced at his maker. “His eyes glowed the same way! The vision is physically passed?”

His maker shook his head as Maharet took the limp form of Armand from his arms. “We don’t know yet. Yours did the same thing. What did you see, Louis?”

“A garden that seemed to go on forever, and the light was as you’d imagine looking through a rainbow. Pastel. Very soft, making everything hazy.”

Maharet had moved Armand to a chair and was checking his breathing.

Louis’s brow furrowed, puzzled. “Was I out that long? It only seemed like an instant.”

Lestat stroked his chin absently. “You didn’t go all the way out. And there was one long moment when you held my gaze without succumbing. It was only later, when you were very close, that it affected you.”

“He’s coming around,” Maharet said, glancing over her shoulder. “Get some glasses on and let’s hope that works.”

Louis handed the box to Lestat and knelt beside Armand. “Easy, my friend,” he whispered as Armand’s eyes fluttered open. Louis smiled when the soft brown eyes seemed to focus on him. He stroked the auburn curls gently and then assisted when his friend tried to stand. “How do you feel, Armand?”

“Fine. What happened?” He glared at Lestat, who had donned a small pair of sunglasses with dark green lenses. Armand took a step closer. “You did this to me?”

Louis could just make out his maker’s eyes behind the heavy tinting. They seemed to grow brighter for a moment and then fade.

Lestat slowly grinned. “I believe we have a winner.”

Maharet seemed pleased. “We can experiment with tinting tomorrow night, but for now it looks as if you’re safe to be set free again.” She held up a hand. “We still don’t know what this will do to mortals, so please be careful, Lestat.”

“Oui, madame,” Lestat said with a tiny bow. He approached Armand. “My oldest friend, I am sorry. Something has changed and we don’t know exactly what yet. But we seem to have found...a solution and....” Lestat fought for words for a moment before he turned impatiently to Louis. “How can you stand this all the time?” He grinned and quickly wrapped his arms around the auburn-haired vampire, lifting and turning him shamelessly. “I love you, Armand! And I’ve been dying to do that all night.”

“Put me down, Lestat!” Armand growled indignantly.

Louis laughed. “Tell him something to make him angry, Armand. It might work.”

Lestat set Armand down without provocation and pointed an accusing finger at Louis. “You manipulated me!”

“Yes,” his fledgling admitted, grinning wickedly. “But we had a wedding to get through. And I have a wife waiting for me now, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Chérie!” Lestat gasped. “Come, Louis!” he said, grabbing his fledgling’s hand. “We’ve detained you long enough.”

Louis laughed as his maker dragged him out through the sitting room and pulled open the French doors. Lestat’s free hand flew to his breast when he saw everyone gathered around the door. Behind the lenses, his eyes fired bright as they quickly shifted from one face to the next.

“We were worried you would never emerge again, mon père,” Chérie said, concern mixing with relief in her smile.

He dropped Louis’s hand and caught her up in his arms, kissing her warmly. “I love you, ma petite.”

A hush fell over the remaining vampires, stunned by his open display of affection.

Lestat glanced among their faces, furrowing his brow playfully, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. “What? My daughter marries my son and I’m not allowed to be happy about this?”

A few laughs and conversations restarted.

He set Chérie on her feet, mindful of her gown, and drew Louis forward. “I believe you two know each other,” he teased, placing Chérie’s hand in Louis’s before drawing Gabrielle with him as he pushed through the little crowd toward the back parlor.

Louis kissed his wife and held her close for a moment as David and Marius filed after Lestat. Eric and Daniel disappeared into Louis’s rooms.

“What happened, Louis?” Chérie asked quietly.

“A bigger change than I had imagined. He says he has remembered something he calls ‘the face of Heaven’ and he has sprouted a new ability.” He pitched his voice lower still. “The glasses are a necessity for now. Be careful to avoid his eyes if he takes them off. Armand was out for a full minute.”

Chérie raised an eyebrow. “Wow. What is this new power?”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. His eyes become bright and everything starts swimming, though I didn’t fall unconscious. I had a vision but I don’t know if Maharet or Armand did as well.”

She ran her hand down his cheek. “Maharet, too?” She puzzled a moment. “That must have been why he laughed. It probably startled him. We were fine with him only moments before. I’ll bet Eric saw something.” Chérie frowned and shook her head furiously. “We shouldn’t be leaving him now.”

“D’accord. But he would not hear of it, not for a moment. That is the other change, what I had seen earlier tonight, his complete ease with his affections. And I don’t believe that’s limited to us. He scooped up Armand a moment ago and declared his love.”

Chérie clamped a hand to her mouth. “Poor Armand! He must have been mortified.”

Louis smiled and nodded. “For now, we should stay close to Lestat. Give him a target for his affections, if he needs one.” He laughed. “Before he scares everyone.” He reached up and smoothed her shimmering brown hair. “Besides, I wish to dance with Madame de Pointe du Lac.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes alight. “You say the sweetest things, mon mari.”

He offered her his arm and they walked to the back parlor. The center of the room had been cleared, furniture moved, carpets rolled up. The parlor looked like a tiny ballroom with the chandeliers turned low.

The vampires in the room applauded and the music began as Louis led Chérie to the middle of the floor, turning her quickly so her skirt swirled wide about her ankles, before gently leading her around the room.

She felt perfect in his arms. The silk of her gown, the shine in her hair, the love in her eyes.

“I love you, Chérie.”

“And I, you,” she said softly. “Did you know Lestat was going to do that in the church?”

“What, my love?”

“Pour the wine.”

His eyes went wide. “No, a complete surprise! I almost laughed.”

She smiled. “Strange when you think of it. The Blood of Christ.”

“My God! You’re correct.” A laugh escaped him. “For once, the priest was not speaking from faith alone, though I would not wish that realization upon him.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lestat lead Jesse into the dance. “You should ask the best man about it when he cuts in.”

“I will. I love you, Louis.”

He grinned. “And I love you right back, so there.”

Chérie laughed and he could do no more than smile at the music of it.

“Was it just me or was there something about that chapel?”

Louis smiled. So, she had felt it, too. “Well, once you entered, all I could hear was you. Your silent words, your gown, your heartbeat.”

“Yes, I too could not hear the priest. It must have been the acoustics.” Her blue-gray eyes twinkled.

“Magic,” Louis said and laughed. His mind was a jumble of the events of this magical night. Life was rushing headlong before him and it seemed he could only hang on in euphoric desperation. But Chérie was in his arms. Loving him. And it was perfect.

“May we cut in?” Lestat asked and both couples slowed to a halt. “Merci, Louis,” he said, stepping in to take Chérie’s hands before she could even lower them and gliding her away across the floor.

Louis shook his head and smiled. So much for perfection. He quickly bowed to Jesse before taking her in his arms and slowly turning her.

“You look lovely, Jesse.”

“Thank you for saying so, Louis, but everyone knows where your attentions lie.”

He laughed quietly. “I’m terribly transparent, aren’t I?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing terrible in seeing two souls so much in love.”

“Thank you, Jesse.” His green eyes filled with mischief. “Now tell me everything you did up there last night.”

“Shame on you, Louis! I should tell you no such thing, but I will, if you’ll tell everything that went on here.” She smiled sweetly, challenging him.

“I can’t do that, I’m afraid. We have a small surprise planned for later and I wouldn’t want to spoil it.”

“You and Lestat?”

Louis nodded. “How does he seem to you, Jesse?”

“Extraordinarily affectionate, but then it is an emotional evening.”

“Yes, it certainly is.”

A smile lighted her green eyes. “So what else did you do last night?”

Louis shook his head sadly. “You will only realize how truly boring I am. Let’s see, after trying to throttle Lestat,” he smiled when Jesse laughed, “we sat and talked for hours. And I practiced my typing. I watched a video of Chérie. We worked on our surprise. Oh! You might find this interesting.”

“What?”

“David and Marius may have discovered another family among us, though certainly far less grand than your own.”

“Whose?”

“Lestat, it seems, may have sired a few offspring in his youth.”

Jesse smiled, and it grew. “Somehow, there’s a certain symmetry in that. I mean, in little over two hundred years, he’s fathered six immortal children.” She furrowed her brow. “And always in matched pairs.”

“Seven at least. But yes, very prolific for our kind,” Louis said thoughtfully. And, if anything, Lestat was more powerful, as were his later fledglings. Another of Marius’ theories, out the window. He smiled wickedly. “Come on, Jesse. You’ve coerced me into sharing some of my evening, so tell me something of yours.”

She laughed. “Oh, all right. I’ll tell you one thing only.”

“What is it?”

Her expression softened. “Chérie cried last night, after you called the second time.” She glanced up at the heartbreak filling his eyes. “She’s so in love with you, Louis. She wouldn’t give up the phone. Chérie just lay there clutching it to her as she wept.”

“I almost crushed the telephone I held as well,” he admitted quietly, then puzzled when Jesse again laughed.

“Then Chérie did the strangest thing.”

“What was that?”

“She made me bring two pillows from the bed. But not to lie on. She tossed out the phone and wedged these two enormous things beside her in the coffin. And that’s how she slept, wrapped around those pillows.”

Louie laughed aloud. “I can’t believe she actually did it!”

“You told her to do this?”

“Guilty, I’m afraid,” he said as the piece ended. He bowed before leading her off the dance floor, rejoining Lestat and Chérie. Another piece had begun. David handed the video camera to Santino and drew Gabrielle to the center of the room.

Lestat glared down his nose at them until Chérie gave his arm a squeeze. He smiled impishly at her. “Yes, I suppose I should be happy just seeing her dance again.”

“She didn’t when you were growing up?” she asked, watching Gabrielle.

“Once, and the occasion eludes me,” he admitted, breaking into a malignant grin. “And I would have thought you’d noticed. I’ve never grown up.”

Chérie laughed and he seemed to delight in the sound. “Oh, Lestat! I’m not fooled for one moment by that boyish exterior.”

Jesse agreed, touching Lestat’s shoulder. “Honey, none of us are! But I need to find Maharet.” She gave him a quick kiss and then gave one to Louis. “Thank you for the dance, gentlemen.”

“Remember, you promised me another,” Lestat warned.

She laughed and nodded wearily. “If you have the presumption to pull out your disc, I’ll dance with you.” She gave Chérie a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Chérie said. “Maharet may still be in Louis’s rooms,” she added helpfully.

“Our rooms,” Louis corrected, his smile lighting his entire face.

“You’re going to be impossible about this, I can see,” Chérie said, exasperated. “Our rooms, but only if mon père says so.”

“It’s Louis’s house,” Lestat said with a shrug and drew Louis under his wing. “Whether I hold the title or not, this will always be your home.” He pulled Chérie close. “Both of you.”

Jesse shook her head and laughed. “And I thought Maharet and Eric were strange to watch. You may have them beat.” She quickly nodded and left the parlor.

Louis glanced at his maker, seeing the eyes blaze behind the lenses. “You’re scaring people again, mon père. They will need time to adjust.”

“Yes, Lestat,” Chérie said kindly. “We’ve had two years to see this grow in you.” Her smile was sheepish. “And, I must admit, I’m dying to see your eyes before you send us away.”

Their maker’s lips twisted into a smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. So you shall, but not now.” He drew them closer as he led them from the parlor. “You two must feed,” Lestat said quietly, grinning when the thirst suffused their expressions.

They followed him out of the townhouse and down the curving iron stairs. As they neared the front gate, he hurried ahead and opened the interior door to the laundry room, disappearing inside. He emerged moments later, holding a deep indigo cloak for Chérie. Another was draped over his arm.

“These are a gift from Eric,” Lestat said as he helped adjust Chérie’s hood. He stepped back and admired the effect. “Yes, that covers your gown nicely.”

“It weighs almost nothing!” said Chérie delightedly, turning and watching the woven fleece sweep across the flagstones.

“I thought I recognized the weave,” Louis said, donning its mate.

“Stop fidgeting, Louis,” Lestat chided, fastening the cloak securely before again drawing them close. They strained to hear his words. “Now, children. Two cars were retained because of the crowd.” He smiled at Louis. “Yes, all my fault, of course. Take one of the cars, leave it to await your return, and hunt.”

Louis watched him, expecting some condition.

Lestat shook his head gently. “Hunt however you please.” His gaze shifted from one to the other of his fledglings. “But draw your victims to a place where you will not be disturbed for several minutes afterward. And when you kill, take the heart.”

“But, Lestat, you said--” Chérie began in alarm.

He cut her off. “You are both strong enough to survive it. Take the heart.”

Louis glanced at Chérie and saw his hunger matched in her gaze.

“And then hurry back,” Lestat said brightly. “There is still much to do before dawn.” He pulled open the gate. “Now go!”

The driver of the first car scurried to open the door and they ducked into it safely. The noise of the crowd, still gathered despite the late hour, hushed with the shutting door. The telephone rang as the car began rolling. Louis lifted the receiver.

“City Park. Thank you,” he said, hanging up the phone.

She smiled. “Why that park?”

Louis shrugged. “It’s out of the Quarter, but still a short drive.” He reached inside her hood and smoothed back her hair. “I am envious already of your victim, my love. They will have the most mysterious and beautiful spectre to lead them into their enchanted sleep.” Before she could protest, he smiled and changed the subject. “So, do you like your ring?”

Chérie’s eyes brightened and she gazed into the facets of the perpetually swirling stones. “It’s perfect, my love. What made you think of this?”

“You, of course. Your talk of karma, and things happening in their own time set me reading the Eastern philosophers. And I read about macrobiotics, which you said you’d delved into briefly. I found the concept intriguing, by the way, eating for world peace, though the subject matter naturally made me nauseous.” He smiled when she laughed at his little pun. “But one word rang through all I read, and it struck me how perfectly it fit. Harmony. And it became clear how all the facets of our life together balanced to bring such happiness.” A laugh escaped him. “Lestat’s action and plotting without thinking things through. My pondering every detail but never acting. And how your logic and curiosity made everything whole.”

She smiled. “Yes, even with Daniel. He idolized you and Lestat so completely, but he could relax with me around because I was younger. And how he helped me, with leaving my mortal life. His understanding meant a lot to me whenever the enormity of your lives overwhelmed me.”

“Circles within circles.” Louis sighed and glanced out the window. “Every one I thought of revealed another. Eternal expansion.”

His eyes rolled shut as he felt her strong fingers reach under his hair, stroking his neck. Such intimate touch! “Yes, my love,” he whispered. “We are nearly there.” He turned on the seat to face her, his lips parting at the sight of the hunger filling her blue-gray eyes. Every vein aching for blood.

“Louis,” she whispered, as he pushed her hood back and nuzzled her neck. Or had she simply thought his name? Her vein was drawn and taut beneath his tongue as he lazily traced its path, kissing her. Deep thirst, he felt her heart pound as he let his fingers follow the vein across her shoulder, down her arm, finding naked flesh again at her wrist, her pulse throbbing beneath his touch.

He gasped as he felt her fanged teeth at his throat, teasing, pressing against his elastic flesh but not enough to break the skin. A shudder resounded through his every vein. It was too exquisitely sweet!

The car rolled to a halt and he gave her a lingering kiss before fixing her hood. She pulled his into place as the driver opened the door. Louis stepped from the car and reached back to draw her out behind him. She gazed across the grounds as he quickly explained to the driver that they would take a short walk before returning to the townhouse.

Chérie took Louis’s arm as they set off, walking as mortals walk, quickly at times, steps slowing, stopping to gaze into each other’s eyes, kissing.

They saw the man when he was still distant, lost in thought, staring up at the stars occasionally.

The scent of blood reached out to them, the passion so close.

He’s too large for me, my love, Chérie told him silently.

Your thirst is greater.

Not that great! He is your lover tonight.

As they drew near, they saw he had lighted a cigarette and was smoking it lazily, one hand shoved in his pocket. He turned abruptly when he heard their approach and then smiled, relieved.

Louis smiled kindly and began speaking to the man in French as he stepped closer, gesturing to Chérie who had stopped several paces away. She smiled shyly.

The man’s smile broadened and he shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry. I don’t speak French.”

Louis appeared puzzled and then gestured to the man’s cigarette, pantomiming smoking, and again to Chérie.

The man grinned. “Ah. A cigarette for the lady?” He dug the pack from his pocket and knocked it against his knuckles. When several extended, he offered the pack to Louis.

“Merci,” Louis said, stepping close, watching as the man’s eyes filled with wonder, locking with his, the jaw going slack. “Merci beaucoup.”

The pack of cigarettes fell by the side of the path.

The man did not resist as Louis took him in his arms, smoothing back his hair, pushing the longer strands behind his ears. He returned Louis’s smile and nodded slightly.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Merci,” Louis said sincerely, his lips seeking out that burning river, feeling its course as the man let out an impassioned moan. The desire crested and Louis sank his teeth through the thin barrier of skin, pressing the length of the man’s body to him, gently so as not to crush his delicate bones. A shudder passed through the mortal flesh as an ecstatic gasp escaped the man’s lips and he spoke no more.

Louis savagely drew the life from the mortal. Wave after wave crossed his tongue and plummeted down his throat. The heat of it radiated through his body, the tingling warmth spreading as the heart pounded out its rhythm in perfect time with his own, locked together in delicious intimacy.

The man quickly weakened and Louis held him firmly when his legs failed, taking ever deeper draughts as his mind filled with the precious images of the man’s life.

As the flow slackened, he drew ravenously to coax the vital blood from the body. The images faded and the alien heartbeat grew, eclipsing his own, pushing against the barriers of his mind, the surface of every vein intensely raw with the approaching wave, the culmination of passion. The rhythm faltered. He fought his own inner warning to pull back, stop, and breathlessly he drew harder still, demanding the last drop as the heart boomed its resounding last.

The stillness was an explosion through his being, rocking him, a silent cacophony, and he was enveloped in its light, pure, white, blinding. And past him it flew, racing, the explosion building upon itself, surrounding him. With a surprising calm, he willed it to stop and he halted at the edge of a great void as the silence roiled about him, caressing his every fiber, his flesh ablaze from within. For an instant, he saw revealed before him, swelling, a vastness of green that was not only green, but every color of creation. The ecstatic wave crashed over him, forcing every breath from his body as the black veil thundered down around him.

Louis collapsed, the body rolling gently from his arms. He could not move, the earthly silence filling him along with the mortal warmth, every cell alive. The soft calls of the night creatures in the nearby bayou filtered back in. Such beautiful songs! He felt Chérie’s touch as she knelt beside him and a shudder passed through him. He heard her rise, the body dragged away, the sounds of digging with preternatural speed. Symphonies. Her touch again finally and he willed his hand to take hers, feeling her immeasurable strength through her icy flesh.

He was rising when he opened his eyes, touching her face, her hair. Alive! Louis surrounded her with his arms, clinging to her.

“God, how I love you, Chérie!” he cried quietly.

“Oh, Louis,” she whispered, snuggled in the folds of his cloak. “You’re so warm!”

His expression melted. How could he forget her hunger! Louis quickly smiled and drew her away. “Come, you must feed, my love.” They rushed ahead, deeper into the park. After only a short distance, they caught the scent of blood and slowed their pace.

It was close, lurking. He could hear the shallow breathing seeking concealment among the old oaks.

Your lover was already marked for death, Chérie told him.

Yes, so it seems.

Walk on, my love, so I am helpless against her.

Her?

Cologne. Chérie breathed deeply.

Louis clasped her by the shoulders. “Wait here, my love. I believe I dropped something.” He trotted back the way they’d come.

“Sweet man,” Chérie said aloud to herself. With her left hand, she pushed the hood back and smoothed her hair. Her rings sparkled as she slowly turned.

The thief sprang from the bushes, brandishing a knife. Chérie whirled on the young woman and instantly clamped onto the hand wielding the blade, squeezing the soft flesh until the knife fell to the ground, clattering against a rock. Chérie kicked the weapon towards Louis, who had reappeared on the path only a few paces away. He caught it under his boot.

As Louis bent to retrieve the knife, he watched Chérie draw the thief to her tightly, pinning her close with one arm, leaning to smell the cheap fragrance. Chérie watched, fascinated, the eyes darting away, trying to avoid her fierce gaze, as her free hand moved slowly across the woman’s breast, resting over the pounding heart. Chérie smiled and the thief was lost.

“How long since you got high?” Chérie asked firmly.

“This morning,” the young woman answered, her voice dry.

“On what?”

“Horse.”

Concern filled Chérie’s eyes as she pushed the ragged hair away from the thief’s neck. “Drugs kill, dear, but get ready for the rush of your life,” she whispered, hesitating a moment before biting through the soft flesh.

Louis saw the young woman’s hands clutch at Chérie, watched his bride’s breathing lift her shoulders, smelled the blood flowing as she fed. Chérie shifted, breaking the flesh anew and drawing furiously on the wounds. As the thief weakened, Chérie pressed her tighter, lowering herself slowly until the mortal body was like a babe in her arms, her hand again resting over the faltering heart.

So intimate, to watch her feed.

Chérie’s shoulders rose and fell as the back of her victim arched under her pull. The shudder jolted her as the heart stopped, passing through her again and yet again before she pulled free. The lifeless body slid from her lap as Chérie toppled over sideways.

Louis rushed to her side, catching her head before it hit, guiding it gently to the earth, resting it upon her hood. He quickly scanned the area before hefting the dead woman and carrying her back into the undergrowth. He peeled off the filthy denim jacket and arranged the body against the far side of a tree, cradled in the black roots of the ancient oak. Searching the soft undersides of the arms, he found the ugly self-inflicted wounds. He rifled the jacket pockets, pulled free the drug kit, and scattered its pieces beside the body, laying the arm gently in their midst. He dropped the knife in a pocket as he draped the jacket over a tree root. Biting his own finger, he spread the drop of blood over the wounds on the neck and, when they closed, wiped the blood away and then dirtied the clean spot.

Louis closed his eyes briefly. Horse. Heroin. He’d learned the hard way to check his victims for the signs of this and other drugs. Hunting San Francisco had frequently been a dangerous endeavor. How little the drug culture had changed. Such aging in one so young. But it was an often-enough sight in larger cities in recent decades and the cause of death would go unquestioned, unworthy of mention by the press. Yet he mourned her, the loss of her life, the exchange he had chosen so Chérie might live. “Thank you,” he told the inanimate form, though he knew how very trite it sounded.

Chérie had not moved when he returned. Kneeling beside her, Louis again scanned the area. The closest presence he could detect was their driver, lounging against the car and thinking about his breakfast. He smiled, remembering that very different hunger.

He touched his bride’s ruddy cheek, so soft and warm. Her eyes fluttered and opened, and he smiled into their clear blueness. She clasped his arm and allowed him to help her gain her feet, pressing herself to him with a strength that would have crushed a mortal man.

“Oh, Louis!”

He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head. Alive.

“What was that, Louis? It was so beautiful, so tranquil!”

“Tell me what you saw,” he said quietly.

Chérie shook her head, furrowing her brow. “It was like an enormous garden, but it was like looking through a cloud, the tiny drops catching the light in infinite different ways.”

“The face of Heaven,” he whispered.

She stepped away from him in alarm. “What!”

Louis smiled and nodded. “I’ve seen it once before. Tonight, when I was caught in Lestat’s gaze.” He took her hands gently. “We must leave this place. Come, Chérie.”

She walked beside him quietly until they had moved well beyond his concealed victim. Chérie halted and started unfastening her cloak.

“What is it, my love?” Louis asked.

Chérie smiled mischievously. “If my cloak is half as dusty as yours, it needs a good shaking out.”

Laughing silently, Louis began undoing his as well. He shook it gently and picked the few persistent bits from its surface. She finished before him and, as he swung it back over his shoulders and was securing it in place, she circled him, brushing at the cloak every now and again.

“Now your hair,” she commanded sweetly.

Louis bent forward, letting his long black waves hang free and he shook it out, righting himself quickly so the hair all flew behind him.

Chérie’s eyes danced and she had her hands clasped to her mouth.

“There was nothing in my hair, was there?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

She slowly shook her head. “Not a thing. I just love watching you do that.”

“Imp!” he said and she let out a low shriek as he scooped her up in his arms, turning her and setting off towards the car.

Chérie draped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him. “I love you, Louis.” Her voice lowered solemnly. “That was no vision. We stared at the other side, didn’t we?”

“I believe so, but I won’t know until I speak with Lestat.” He smiled as he continued briskly down the path.

She laughed self-consciously. “You can put me down now, you know.”

He grinned broadly, his eyes ablaze. “Not a chance!”

“You can’t carry me forever!”

“Of course, I can. Do you forget what sort of fiend you’ve married?” He turned her again, kissing her. “You can walk again when we get to the townhouse.”

She laughed and kicked her feet lazily.

Within moments they were back in the car and it was speeding its way towards the Quarter.

As the car crawled through the narrow streets, he felt her eyes on him again.

He smiled. “What is it, my love?”

“You’re plotting something and I can’t figure out what it could be. You’re impossible to read when you’re like this.”

“Thank you, my love,” he said.

The car rolled to a stop and the driver quickly had the door open. Louis pulled the hood back over Chérie’s hair and stepped out. She took his hand and then went before him as he ushered her through the gate.

“I can’t believe they’re still out there!” she said.

Louis strode up beside her, catching her hand again. “Yes, we should make an appearance. Perhaps then they will go.”

“And why exactly are you walking so bloody fast?”

“Exactly!” He laughed. “It’s a fine night to be alive, isn’t it?” Louis lifted her as they passed the fountain, turning her lightly before setting her back on her feet.

“Yes, it is, my love,” she said giggling in delight. “But contain yourself before you frighten the others!”

Louis paused, became very quiet, and bowed slowly while she started up the stairs, shaking her head. He grinned and followed close behind. She opened the door and he held it as they passed inside. The gallery was empty and they crossed quickly to their rooms. He helped her out of her cloak, laying it gently across the bed before unfastening his and placing it beside hers.

He watched a moment while she brushed out her long, brown hair. A smile crossed his lips as she tossed it back over her head. “Yes, I can see the attraction in this.”

She let the tip of her tongue peek out at him and he laughed brightly as he removed his coat, carefully hanging it in his armoire and pausing to brush off a bit of lint.

Chérie caught sight of him in the glass and whirled. “Louis! You’re sparkling! How can one coat cover all that brilliance?”

“Flatterer,” he said teasingly.

She shook her head, her eyes wide in wonder. “No, seriously. I hadn’t noticed before, your....” She furrowed her brow and pointed.

“Waistcoat,” he prompted.

“Right! Waistcoat. Thank you.” She handed him the brush and gingerly touched the tapestry in shiny metallic threads.

Louis closed his eyes at her touch and idly ran the brush through his hair. He had to excuse himself to return the brush to her armoire.

“I could get lost in that for hours,” Chérie admitted.

“Thank you,” Louis said, beaming. “I had hoped it would have that effect.”

“This is your doing?”

He crooked a finger under her chin and closed her mouth. “You’ll catch flies, Madame de Pointe du Lac.”

She shook off a shudder and grinned. “I love how you say that.”

He gathered her into his arms and pulled her close, his green eyes dancing. “Madame de Pointe du Lac,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Louis.”

He kissed her determined lips while his fingers caressed her cheek, her neck, and slid down her arm until their fingers intertwined. He sighed as their lips parted. “Thank you, thank you for being my wife.”

“My beautiful, sweet husband,” she whispered, her hand cradling his warm cheek. “All this has been your accomplishment and, although I could not have conceived being any happier, I am indeed that. Thank you for asking me, my love.”

Louis drew her upright. “You could have told me no.”

Chérie laughed. “Right! Like you could have refused Lestat all those years ago.” She winked playfully.

“Touché.” He smiled. “And now I want to find that self-same Lestat and pick his little brain.” He pressed a thumb to his lips to suppress his laugh.

“Play nice, Louis!”

“And he can’t afford the loss,” Daniel said, peeking through the doors. “Are you decent in there?”

“Daniel!” Chérie said, bounding over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

He laid a hand on her shoulder and tipped her chin up for a brief kiss. “You are stunning tonight, Chérie. And you still owe me a dance.” He turned a wicked grin on Louis and gave her a smile. “You know I would have asked you if he hadn’t, and if Armand had stayed dead, of course.”

“Why thank you, Daniel,” she said. “And you shall have your dance, I promise. But we really do need to find Lestat.”

Daniel furrowed his brow playfully. “So I overheard. The odd thing is that Lestat is looking for you. When he asked me to find you, I told him you were still out, but he seemed to know you were back. And here you are.”

Chérie grinned. “‘Radar Love.’”

Daniel laughed.

“And what does that mean?” Louis asked, amused by their ease.

“It was a song from when we were younger,” Daniel said. “About a pair of lovers who had no need for the telephone.”

Chérie extracted herself from Daniel’s arms and took Louis’s hands. “They could sense each other, as we can, my love.”

“Only Lestat isn’t supposed to be able to do that,” Daniel said, leaning against the doorframe.

Louis shrugged. “It must be another kind of magic then. Where is he? I wanted to get the wedding party out on the balcony so perhaps that crowd of mortals would dissipate.”

Daniel’s eyes grew wide.

“What is it?” Chérie asked, concerned.

“That’s why Lestat wanted me to find you. Everyone is already gathered in the front parlor.” He shook his head. “And Eric went out a few minutes ago with the video camera. He’s infiltrating their ranks.”

Louis immediately gestured for Daniel to lead the way and waited for Chérie before following. “We had better finish with this so Eric can get to safety.”

As Daniel entered the front parlor, he stepped aside and extended an arm to the newlyweds. “Monsieur et Madame de Pointe du Lac,” he announced, giving Chérie a wink as they passed. Polite applause broke out.

“How long did he make you practice that, Daniel?” Louis asked, laughing silently.

“Until I got it right.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Armand said impatiently. “Let’s get this vanity done with.”

“Yes, come children,” Lestat said, waving them over.

Louis scowled as they circled the furniture. Lestat was sitting atop his desk, with everything shoved aside. “That’s not a chair, Lestat.”

“Another rule?” His maker grinned gleefully before holding up a hand and springing from the desk. “Okay, Louis. I’m off. Wait!” He quickly returned everything to exactly their proper positions. “Happy now?”

Louis beamed pointedly.

“Good. Now, can we get on with this please, so Armand will stop his infernal pacing?” Lestat drew Louis before him and pushed his fledgling toward the balcony. When Louis hesitated, his maker gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Everyone else knows what to do. Daniel will bring Chérie to you. Now breathe, bien-aimé.” He gave his fledgling another tiny push.

Louis stepped out onto the balcony and crossed to lean both hands on the rail. Applause erupted across the street. And it seemed to grow louder by the moment.

“Good Lord, Lestat,” he whispered. “There must be four dozen of them. Five, perhaps.”

No response.

“Lestat?”

He turned to find he was alone on the balcony.

“Lestat!” he hissed, spying his maker in the dim interior. Chérie was at Lestat’s side, hands clenched to her lips, a single tear staining her cheek.

“That’s all for you, Louis,” his maker said softly. “They’ve all come to see you. Turn around and look at them.”

He did, if only to get it over with, and the noise increased. He heard his name called repeatedly, affectionately, and he covered his mouth with one hand.

“Get out here, Lestat. Please.”

Relief spread through him as his maker’s firm grip enveloped his shoulder. Lestat handed him his handkerchief just as a tear spilled down Louis’s cheek.

Lestat stayed behind him, just over his left shoulder. “It’s all right, Louis. It’s all right,” he whispered, leaning against his fledgling. He gestured toward the French window.

Daniel stepped onto the balcony, his arm around Chérie. As they neared the rail, Daniel placed her left hand in Louis’s right and stepped aside. He passed along the balcony, behind Louis, until he leaned against the post to Lestat’s left.

Chérie’s hand trembled in Louis’s as she looked up at him. He met her gaze and his own fear vanished. He gathered her into his arms and pulled her close. Stroking her hair, he tipped her chin up and gently dried her tears before covering her lips with his, relishing the taste of her as the crowd of mortals cheered loudly. Louis smiled as their lips parted and she seemed lost in his eyes for a moment before she laughed.

“This is terrifying, Louis,” she whispered. “It’s never like this at sunset.”

“See if you can find Eric,” Jesse suggested, suddenly at her right.

“Just don’t give him away,” Maharet warned from beside Jesse.

Louis saw more movement and turned to see Armand join Daniel. The younger vampire draped an arm over his maker’s shoulder and kissed him quickly. A smile, perhaps, crossed Armand’s face as they heard his name pass among the mortals.

“I believe they too are happy you are among the living, my friend,” Louis said.

“So it seems,” Armand said, nodding.

Lestat nudged Louis’s arm. “Show them the rings, wave, and we’re out of here.”

Louis nodded and turned to smile at Chérie. They held up their ringed hands, interlocked, and smiled at the crowd. Together they gave a quick wave and turned from the rail. Louis draped his arm around Chérie as they reentered the flat. They collapsed on the divan with an enormous sigh of relief and watched the others quickly file in.

David came to stand behind them and gave Chérie’s shoulder a pat. “How are your nerves, my dear?”

“Shot. Completely shot.” She laughed and touched his hand. “Thank you, David.”

Lestat was the last one off the balcony, pushing the French windows closed behind him. He grinned. “Well, that was fun. But I suggest we kill the lights in here and vacate the room.” He clapped his hands together. “The next show is in twenty minutes, in the back parlor.”

As everyone started leaving, he drew a chair before Louis and Chérie, signaling for them to wait. When all were gone, he smiled at Louis.

“Light a candle, will you please?”

Louis grinned and lifted a candlestick from the table before him. He passed his hand over the wick and it flickered to life. Smiling innocently, he offered the candle to Lestat.

His maker waved it away. “Just set it on the table. Insufferable show-off!” Lestat laughed softly and for a moment, it seemed as if he’d found something new in Louis’s face. “Making light from light,” he murmured before quickly touching Chérie’s hand. “He’s better than me at one thing and he flaunts it.”

Suddenly the room lights went out. Lestat grinned smugly.

“Enough of this, you two!” Chérie scolded, shaking her head as she laughed. “You could one-up each other all night. What is it, mon père?”

He leaned forward anxiously. “Did you do it, take the heart?”

Louis’s gaze narrowed. “First, tell us how you knew we were back in the house.”

Lestat shrugged. “Scent of blood. You both reek of it.” His grin returned. “And your driver has a very relaxed mind.”

“Yes,” Louis said, settling back on the divan. “We did as you suggested.”

“And?”

Louis furrowed his brow. “And what, Lestat?”

Deep disappointment clouded his maker’s face.

Chérie smiled. “Don’t play with him, Louis.”

“I’m allowed!” Louis protested. “He’s been keeping this secret for how many years?” He turned to his maker. “God in Heaven, Lestat. Yes, God in Heaven, precisely! How could you keep this from me?”

“You weren’t strong enough, Louis.”

“Bullshit, Lestat!” Louis leaned forward, fury in his eyes. “And what made me stronger tonight than, say, last week? Or how about two years ago? Hmm? What, Lestat? Please tell me, because I’d truly like to know.”

His maker sat motionless, arms draped over his knees. Slowly his head bowed. “You know why,” he said quietly, his words measured. “I’m secretive. I never play all my cards.”

“Not with me! Not any more!” Louis held up a hand. “Not about our powers. How can I protect you if I don’t know everything? How can I protect Chérie, or myself?”

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Lestat whispered.

“What?” The quiet apology shouldn’t have startled him, but it had. Louis took a deep breath and gathered his maker’s hands into his. “Lestat, every power you have, you have shared with us. How can we know this new gift will not manifest itself in us as well? We need to be prepared for it.” He sighed. “Lestat, I love you. This certainly doesn’t change that. You will always be my hero, my champion. My maker.” He turned his head and then slowly smiled, his voice growing faint. “Yes, the elder brother I never had.”

A blood tear splashed on Louis’s hand. He carefully drew the precious drop to his lips and felt the tingle rush through him when he sucked up the tear. He pulled a fresh handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and handed it to his maker. “I believe I have again soiled yours, my beloved.”

A smile curled Lestat’s lips as he took the square of linen. “You would think I’d have learned by now to carry two.”

Louis slid off the divan, dropping softly to one knee before his maker. He raked his fingers through the lustrous yellow hair and drew Lestat close. “Keep your secrets about how much stronger you are, but I need to know how it works. Please don’t shackle me in ignorance again.”

“I’ve been planning to tell you this for months, but then it became apparent you wouldn’t feed until tonight.” Lestat crushed his fledgling in his arms. “I am sorry, Louis.”

“I know, Lestat,” Louis said. “And I know that after tonight, things are different. But don’t you see? You’re not alone with your gifts anymore. We want to stand beside you and face whatever comes. You never need be alone again, unless that is your choice.”

Lestat sighed and whispered low in his ear, so low Chérie could not possibly hear. “I’ve been your protector a long time, Louis. I don’t know if I can stop now.”

Louis pressed his lips to his maker’s ear, burying his face in the soft yellow curls, matching his tone. “I still need your protection. We both need it now.” He smiled. “From your glorious temper, and from the handful of things that can yet kill us. But you’ve made me strong enough to be your friend forever, Lestat. If you can tolerate me.” He pulled back and smoothed the hair from his maker’s face.

“My beloved friend,” Lestat said quietly, gently kissing his fledgling’s lips.

“As you are to me. ‘To the last syllable of recorded time,’” Louis said, smiling.

“‘And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death,’” Lestat continued, laughing. It was after all his favorite passage from Macbeth.

So many times they had recited these words! Louis’s smile grew as he watched his maker’s eyes shining bright and steady behind the tinted lenses. “Tell us what it’s like to see through your eyes now. Please, Lestat.”

His maker straightened in his chair, only to immediately lean forward and offer the handkerchief to Chérie, who was desperately trying to keep the tears off her gown.

“You two,” she said, laughing as she dried the tears, her voice liquid.

Louis slid back onto the divan and gently placed an arm around her. “I raised my voice. I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t be silly, Louis. Loud noises don’t frightened me.”

Lestat grinned. “I have been known to make one or two that would, Chérie.” He turned his lensed gaze on Louis. “You had a question?”

Louis smiled. “Would you tell us, please?”

“Maharet didn’t ask. Armand didn’t ask. Only my Louis, my precious Louis, worries about me and how I might see something.” He shook his head in wonder. “You saw the same vision when you took the heart? You felt the whirlwind?”

“That was your whirlwind?”

His maker nodded.

“Yes, that and then the garden again,” Louis said. “But Chérie described the light far better.”

Lestat turned to Chérie and waited.

“Like seeing through a cloud, the light refracting in each drop, casting infinite colors,” she said softly.

Their maker nodded. “Yes, that’s very accurate. Merci, Chérie, for when this happens, that is how I see. As if looking through a cloud, but its mist is not the least hazy. Everything is clear, illuminated, though the light is not harsh or glaring. Soft.” He shook his mop of blond curls and sighed. “It’s difficult to describe. If I concentrate, I can see an infinite number of colors, more than even we see, and that’s what makes it seem softer and yet clearer, more precise.” He shrugged.

Chérie furrowed her brow. “Do you see normally, though? Your vision isn’t obscured?”

Lestat smiled. “I don’t see the vision, as Louis did, ma petite.” His eyes burned behind the glasses and he leaned forward to gingerly touch her cheek. “I see you, Chérie. And you shine so brightly.”

“It sounds remarkably like the difference between mortal and vampiric sight,” Louis ventured. “Brighter, more intense.”

“Yes, to some extent,” his maker conceded. “But you’ve tried to describe that difference, so you know the inadequacy of words.” A laugh escaped him. “And the worst horror of this is that it seems tied to love. It was when Maharet confronted me on what you so casually called my little breakthrough, and I felt that humiliating love for her, that this happened. She promptly keeled over.”

Louis laughed aloud.

His maker covered his mouth with one hand to stifle a laugh. “Yes, humorous now, but mon Dieu! I thought I’d killed her.”

“Your love can’t kill us, mon père.” Chérie smiled. “Now show me, as you promised.”

Lestat was instantly serious. “Are you certain, Chérie? Both Maharet and Armand lost consciousness.” He grinned at Louis. “Armand far longer.”

“But not Louis,” Chérie pointed out. “And we are more nearly equal.”

Louis took her hand. “You have greater powers than I.”

She glanced at him, challenging. “In love? And how do you gauge such a thing, Louis? You are closest to our maker’s heart and you know that.”

Lestat grinned. “This is like arguing degrees of goodness with Armand. Louis, hold her, just in case.” He took Chérie’s hand and squeezed it. “I love you dearly, ma petite, I’ve never hidden that from you. And you’ve seen this vision, so I do not believe you will be harmed.” He sighed. “And it is the only vision I have to give you, my impossible fledglings.”

Louis furrowed his brow. “The exchange of blood?”

Lestat shook his head. “Your vision, or simply shared memories. Somewhat enhanced with me between you, but little more.” He touched the satiny skin over his cheekbone. “Here, Chérie. From here, you can see the difference without looking into my eyes. Look only if you wish it.”

He lowered his head and, eyes closed, slid the sunglasses off his face. Still looking down, he blinked a few times before slowly raising his head.

Louis watched as Chérie searched their maker’s face, a smile on her lips. He glanced at Lestat and saw the blue-gray eyes that had always captivated him. Then they grew brighter, and Louis returned his attention to Chérie, whose lips had parted, her own eyes taking on the same shimmering radiance, the same fiery blue. Her pulse had quickened but her breathing remained even, showing no signs of losing consciousness. He was alarmed when she rose from the divan, approaching Lestat.

Their maker accepted her into his arms and allowed her to sit upon his knee as she steadfastly held his gaze. Louis knelt at their feet, close beside Chérie.

“Oh, Lestat,” she murmured. “It’s so beautiful. You were in this place?”

Lestat swallowed and spoke quietly. “Yes, Chérie, and beyond. This is not Heaven, but just before its gates. The Garden of Waiting. Can you see the people, the souls?”

Puzzlement filled her face and then the smile bloomed. “It’s not a mist!” Her fingers touched his lips and he kissed them. “And it’s not water I hear, is it?”

Lestat smiled. “What does it sound like?”

“Like laughter, but singing laughter.” She shook her head gently, confused.

“The sound of joy, it comes from beyond.” Lestat sighed, a tear spilling down his cheek. He blinked.

Chérie pushed the handkerchief into his hand and threw her arms about his neck, clinging to him. Her shoulders shook and she held his head against hers.

Lestat sniffled and dried his eyes. And then he began laughing.

She pushed away from him and cupped his face in her hands, her laughter openly joining his. He wiped the tears from her eyes before pressing the handkerchief into her hands, his smile filling his face, and then he crushed her to him again.

“It’s real,” Lestat cried in a whisper. “Oh, dear God, it’s real!” His eyes lowered, he reached out for Louis, urging him into his embrace. “Oh, Louis! It’s not all meaningless.”

The powerful arm surrounded him as Louis touched Lestat’s hair. Turning to Chérie, he caught his maker’s eyes. They instantly flared, faster than he could look away. The swimming sensation engulfed him.

“Hold it, Louis!” Lestat implored. “Hold onto it!”

He felt their arms around him, but his vision was filled with light. Blinding, like the sun, yet he knew it wouldn’t harm him. And the very flowers of the garden seemed to laugh. Enormous blooms unlike anything he’d seen, in colors he couldn’t name, laughing with Lestat’s laughter! And others, there were others, unseen but adding to the song. The feeling the sound sent racing through him, distant yet passionate, so like the moment of the kill, yet.... Everything dimmed, a dark veil falling.

Lestat blinked and a jolt shot through Louis. He collapsed against the hardness of his maker’s body. He flexed his fingers slowly, the smoothness of Lestat’s back solid beneath his touch. “Real,” he whispered, looking up at his maker in awe. “My God, Lestat.”

Glasses safely in place, Lestat grinned at him. “It’s in the blood, Louis. Chérie’s made with it. You’re filled with it.”

Chérie gasped. “Armand! And Daniel.”

“They may develop this in time,” Louis ventured.

“Perhaps,” Lestat allowed. “But what of Maharet? There may be a connection with this other awareness.” He shook his head. “Of course, there’s the possibility that all that can develop is a tolerance for this vision. You’ve seen this place only from afar.”

Louis furrowed his brow. “And how are you with this, Lestat?”

His maker grinned mischievously. “Like you, staring at my buttons.”

Louis laughed and carefully stood, ensuring his legs would hold him before releasing his maker’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Lestat said brightly. “It will take time to sort this out and we have guests.” He set Chérie on her feet and rose.

She slipped an arm around each of their waists. “Now, what is this next show you spoke of, Lestat?”

Lestat grinned at Louis, who pressed a finger across his lips.

“A surprise, my lovely wife,” Louis said, returning his maker’s grin. “Come, and you shall see.” He flipped his hair back over his shoulders as he turned and led them from the room.

Chérie squeezed Lestat. “I love it when he does that.”

“And he has no idea what effect it has on us.” Lestat sighed.

They giggled as they followed down the long gallery, watching Louis’s black waves swish with each stride.

“Stop sniggering, you two,” Louis admonished, laughing.

As they swept into the back parlor, the music abruptly halted.

“I apologize for the delay, my friends,” Lestat announced as he crossed the room to where Gabrielle sat. “Mother,” he said affectionately, bending to kiss her hand before drawing her to her feet. He scooped up her chair as he led Gabrielle to the center of the room, holding the chair for her as she again sat.

Louis bowed before Santino. “Thank you for coming. I hope this hasn’t been a dreadful bore for you.”

The black eyes smiled up at him. “Not at all. It’s been an entertaining evening, to say the least.”

“I’m glad of it,” Louis said sincerely. “But if I may bother you for your chair, we have a little something planned.”

“Of course.” Santino rose and stepped aside.

“Merci, mon ami,” Louis said before picking up the chair and striding to where Chérie stood confounded. He caught her about the waist and drew her beside Gabrielle, setting down the chair and guiding her onto the seat.

“Oh, you are in a mood, aren’t you?” Chérie asked, her eyes sparkling in delight.

“This is for you, Chérie,” he said, kneeling before her and pressing her fingers to his lips. He turned to Gabrielle and smiled. “And a little for Nicki, I suspect.” He glanced up at his maker.

Lestat grinned. “You know me too well, I think.” He turned and waved everyone forward. “Come, please. Bring your chairs.” He yanked Louis to his feet and threw an arm across his shoulders as he led him to the harpsichord. “Light your candles, mon cher, and I’ll do the chandeliers,” he whispered. “Give them something to wonder about.”

Louis smiled. “By your command, my liege.”

“Don’t give me that crap!” Lestat hissed, laughing. Loving it.

The chandeliers winked off and then the row of candles across the harpsichord burst into flame, one after the other, except for the last. Louis passed his hand over the wick and it caught.

“There’s always a stubborn one in the bunch,” he said. Louis heard Daniel’s knowing laugh near the armoire. He blushed and smiled simultaneously. For one moment, he’d forgotten himself.

“Show-off.” Lestat giggled and the chandelier over his head blazed to life, creating a pool of light around them. He opened the violin case, quickly preparing the bow and drawing it across the strings a few times.

Louis calmly composed himself at the harpsichord, flexing each of his long fingers in turn. Ignoring the sudden wave of anxiety, he focused on his maker, hearing his pounding heartbeat, feeling his excitement and allowing it to wash over him. Yes, losing himself, allowing his connection with Lestat to fill his senses.

Their eyes met and Louis nodded. “Let’s play.”

Lestat grinned, the violin poised. He whirled on Chérie, drawing the bow across the strings silkily, opening the largo, the sultry quality of the music contrary to his energetic approach. Louis matched him, the harpsichord filling out the melody in place of the missing string section.

Chérie looked puzzled and then her hands flew to her mouth, recognition flooding her eyes as the violin hit its first solo. Lestat winked as he caressed the strings with the bow. Her eyes shifted to Louis as the harpsichord took the lead momentarily.

Lestat rose, eyes closed, lost in the music, and crossed to stand beside Louis, playing for him as the piece demanded harmony between the two instruments. Louis’s smile was warm under his maker’s attention.

The music changed, the harpsichord leading and the violin responding until they again met and played in tandem.

Back and forth they went, harmonizing, standing alone, complementing. The violin peaceful, the harpsichord joyous.

Lestat meandered from Gabrielle to Chérie to Louis, playing for each as the music suited.

Chérie seemed spellbound as Louis and Lestat played out the piece, the harpsichord dancing around the violin, beguiling it into an ecstatic declaration before the music softly faded. She pressed Louis’s handkerchief to her eyes as the gathering applauded.

Louis rose from the instrument and embraced his maker. “You were splendid, Lestat.”

“Only because you were playing with me, Louis,” Lestat whispered, squeezing him tightly. “I finally had you beside me on stage. And for once, you loved it as much as I did.”

“Yes,” Louis admitted. “I loved being beside you.” He pulled back to see the affection in his maker’s eyes as he stroked the yellow hair. “But I’ll never be the performer you are, my beloved. You and Chérie give me all the approval I’ll ever need.”

They kissed warmly on both cheeks. Lestat hastily set the violin in its case as the light again rose in the chandeliers and then they joined Chérie and Gabrielle.

Louis drew Chérie to her feet and twirled her.

“Oh, Louis! That was beautiful!” She turned to her maker. “Both of you, really.”

“I concur,” Gabrielle said, rising. “There was more than vampiric ability in evidence. You both played with true feeling.” She ran the back of her hand down her son’s face and allowed his embrace, returning his kisses. “Nicolas never played with such love, Lestat.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, beaming when he coaxed a smile from her. “And now I have one last surprise for Chérie.”

Lestat rested his hands on Louis’s shoulder. “I said I would do this in my own retiring fashion and, mon Dieu, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He smiled warmly and took Chérie’s hand. “My apologies, ma petite. I have little energy remaining for a flashy announcement, when it is only you I truly wish to impress.”

Chérie pressed his tanned fingers to her lips. “It’s little wonder with all you’ve been through tonight, mon père. You have no need of pretense with me, not ever.” She smiled and warmed his hand against her breast.

“Merci, Chérie. You again live up to your name. I wanted to tell you of your honeymoon. From Armand comes the use of one of his jets, which will fly you to the South of France. There you will spend the season in a very private villa on the Côte d’Azur, with lots of clean, crisp--”

Chérie engulfed him in her arms. “France! Oh, Lestat, I am impressed!” She reached up and drew his face to hers, kissing his lips, stroking his cheek. “It’s simply perfect.” Her brow furrowed. “But how long is this season?”

Lestat shrugged. “Until the weather chills.”

Her eyes grew wide. “That’s months! Whatever will we do without you all that time? Who will make us laugh so?”

He held her close and sighed. “Such children I have. You will amuse each other, Chérie. You have never been out of the country, no?” He smiled as she shook her head. “Well, all of Europe will be at your doorstep. And Louis can show you everything.”

Chérie turned to regard her husband suspiciously. “And why does not Louis seemed surprised?”

“My fault, Chérie,” Lestat said quickly. “I’m afraid I blurted it out earlier and he has patiently awaited my announcement.”

Louis smiled. “Lestat is yet again being generous. He of course said I might tell you immediately, but I wanted him to have the pleasure of telling you himself, and for you to hear it from his own lips.”

“My husband is wise as he is beautiful,” she said.

Louis blushed.

Lestat laughed and took Gabrielle’s hand, smiling. “Now I must insist you dance with me, Mother.” He bowed cavalierly as Mozart filled the parlor.

Louis smiled as he watched mother and son glide across the floor. He lifted the two vacant chairs and carried them nearer the wall. He turned to see Chérie watching her maker and his mother.

“Le Marquis et la Marquise de Lioncourt,” he said quietly, stepping up behind his bride and softly holding her shoulders.

“Yes, the title became his when his father died, didn’t it? Even as the seventh son.”

Louis smiled. “William Shakespeare would have had a grand time with that particular transfer of power.” His gaze was suddenly far distant. “I wonder if Lestat ever reacquired his ancestral holdings. The remains of the castle stood as late as a decade ago.”

“When he’s like this, it’s easy to see. The provincial lord.” Chérie smiled fondly. “But sometimes, when he’s lounging about in tee-shirt and jeans, it’s just there in his face suddenly and it startles me.” She shook her head. “I’m so proud of him sometimes, simply for surviving. I see him lying in my second-hand chair, watching a movie, and I’m struck by it. He frequented the Palais Royal, for goodness’ sake, and knew Marie Antoinette by sight! How ever can he be as happy as he seems to be in my drab little house?” She glanced back at Louis. “I can’t imagine what it takes to make that leap.”

Louis shook his head. “I had a far lesser distance to travel. My love, let’s try to find his home when we’re in France.” He smiled broadly. “For grins and giggles, if nothing else.”

Chérie laughed. “Yes, I like the sound of that, Louis.” She smiled up at him. “And I’d like to see where you were born.”

“That may take some work, Chérie. I don’t remember France from my childhood.” He smiled. “But we may be able to trace it through the land grants. Oh, and about your little house? Lestat has gone from wallpaper straight to renovation.” He leaned close. “I tried to suggest he consult you, but he seemed of a mind that you were well aware of his interpretation of wallpaper.”

“Well, he’s correct, to a certain degree. I really didn’t think he’d be content with hanging paper, but I had thought he’d stop with replacing and rearranging every stick of furniture.” She sighed. “And I prayed he wouldn’t do everything in Louis XV. This is lovely, but who could walk around barefoot amongst all this?”

Louis smiled. “Where do you wish to live when we return?”

“Wherever you are, my love.”

He bent and kissed her cheek. “That’s too bad, because I wanted to live wherever you were.”

She laughed. “Did you ever restore your little house uptown? Because that sounded wonderful, even with the garish red chair. Single candle, stacks of books. Just my style.”

“Don’t forget the leaky shutters.” Louis smiled. “He dramatized the incident, you realize. The house still stands, surrounded in honeysuckle, not covered in Queen’s Wreath. Freud would love that bit of poetic license. There was a leak in the roof over that room and as damp as it was, the fire never really caught, damaging only a few books and that awful chair.” He laughed and shook his head. “Now, he did vomit on the carpet, though it was not Mojo who cleaned the filth. I never could understand why he thought that such a romantic image.”

“I’d like to see that house sometime.”

“As soon as we get back, my love. Now that the book is done and the wedding carried out, we’ll have time to see everything. At our own pace.”

She sighed contentedly. “I love you, Louis.”

“And I love you right back, Chérie.”

“So I’m stuck with you, am I?”

“Forever, my love.”

“Thank God.”

She leaned back against him and Louis wrapped his long arms around her. They stood silently watching the Lioncourts gracefully circle the floor until the piece ended.

Lestat bowed to Gabrielle and pressed her fingers to his lips. She bowed in return, though it was the barest nod of her head. As she left the parlor, Lestat approached them.

Chérie laughed, quietly amazed. “Do you see what I mean? He commands the room, simply by crossing it. The way he holds his chin as he turns his head. Bearing, carriage. And if he is supposedly rustic, how then did the courtiers in Versailles move?”

Louis smiled and kissed the top of her head. “So strange to hear my own thoughts echo back to me. I’ve pondered the same questions since reading his autobiography. Though I too could see his grace, especially in matters of hospitality, my estimation of him was woefully inaccurate.” A tiny laugh escaped his lips. “Perhaps I am the bourgeois planter he pictures.”

“I believe he admires this in you, Louis. He speaks so mockingly of himself, as of a fraud living in fear of discovery. You have class that cannot be measured, my love.”

He laughed. “Only you could tell me such a thing and have me feeling good about it. Merci, Chérie.”

“C’est mon plaisir, Louis.”

Lestat smiled wickedly. “And what pleasures is he giving you so publicly, ma chère?”

“You’re as impossible as ever, Lestat,” Louis said warmly.

“Thank you, Louis,” Lestat said, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Now, seriously. You two were the perfect picture of bliss standing here like statues. What were you speaking of?”

Chérie smiled. “Houses. We were discussing where to live upon our return.”

Lestat looked genuinely crushed and gestured expansively to the home surrounding them. He snatched up her hand and held it to his breast, pleading in his eyes behind the heavy tinting.

“Oh, Louis!” Chérie cried, fingers covering her lips. “Please help me, because that is just too sweet.”

Louis laughed. “Yes, a superior display. We haven’t jumped off that bridge yet, Lestat.”

“Well said, my love,” Chérie said, glancing back at Louis before turning her smile on her maker. “And I understand you have renovation in mind for my poor, defenseless house?”

“You’re no fun, Louis!”

Chérie ignored him. “Just tell me, Lestat. Will it be finished by our return?”

Lestat stared at her expectantly, the traces of a smile curling his lips.

Chérie grinned and sighed. “Yes, you may have your way with my house, if that’s what you desire. But!” She held up a finger sternly. “There’s a challenge, if you’re up to it.”

Up went the eyebrow and he knitted his arms across his chest. “Give it your best shot, sweetheart.”

“Casual, Lestat. You know me well enough and I trust you in this. But I need to walk around barefoot in my own home.” Her smile softened. “One exception. You must do a room for yourself, in whatever manner pleases you.”

Lestat pulled her from Louis’s arms, lifting and turning her. “Thank you, Chérie!” He regarded her quizzically. “And what was your challenge?” He winked and quickly kissed her.

Surprise crossed his face when she slipped her arms inside his coat and pulled him closer. Her hands pressed his body tightly against hers as her fingers moved over his hardened flesh beneath the velvet. Desire filled their gaze.

“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Ravish my house. I shall enjoy every one of your embraces.”

Her eyes were on his lips as they parted and drew near her own mouth, dimples deepening along with his smile. But there would be no completing the kiss.

“Hey! Isn’t this my dance?” Daniel protested, as he and Armand joined them.

The piece that had been playing ended and Daniel quickly extracted Chérie, laughing in delight, from her maker’s grasp and pulled her toward the center of the room.

Several groans were heard as Lestat’s The Dance of les Innocents came through the speakers. Daniel laughed and Chérie kept time with him as they moved in the free-form dance of the late twentieth century.

Lestat grinned. “You’ll excuse me Louis. Armand.” And across the parlor he scampered, catching up Jesse and literally carrying her out under the chandeliers, twirling her as he had on that stage more than a decade earlier.

Louis laughed aloud and leaned close to Armand. “Something about this sight defies all comprehension, my friend.”

“I would say it appears primitive, but it is remarkably similar to the sabbat in Rome, and I have seen many of those.”

“Indeed. I would be loathe to label myself a primitive, as well,” Louis teased. “But it’s amusing to observe someone Lestat’s age contorting with a group of fledglings.”

Armand waved his hand dismissively. “Envy or prejudice on your part. Lestat is, of course, physically the youngest one out there.” He turned and smiled. “But you have always had a talent for seeing past outward appearance. And I believe we were born old, Louis, you and I.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “Armand, tell me what you saw when you looked into Lestat’s eyes tonight.”

Armand’s face blanked as he studied Louis.

Louis smiled. “You have my word, I will tell you what I saw, as well.” His smile grew wider. “Both times.”

“Twice, Louis?” Armand touched his arm. “You met his eyes again?”

“Unintentionally.” Louis shrugged. “Now tell me, my friend.”

“It was only for a moment, Louis, before everything went black and then you were hovering over me.”

“But before the blackness descended?”

Armand shook his head. “It was far too hazy. A landscape, perhaps. And a waterfall, I believe, but this I may have heard.”

Louis nodded. “Yes, that is what I saw, though I did not lose consciousness. But I’m certain that is only because Lestat broke whatever contact had been made.” He smiled. “I saw a vast garden, but it was as if through a rainbow, I thought. The second was different, more detailed, and I heard your waterfall, but it was laughter. And I sensed others there, unseen but felt.”

“Why more detailed?”

“I held his gaze longer. Lestat and Chérie were supporting me. The first was as with you, a quick glimpse, and contact was broken when Lestat kept me from falling, as he caught you, my friend. The second, I believe he waited until he saw the blackness come upon me before he blinked.”

Armand puzzled a moment. “Chérie has seen this?”

“Yes. She petitioned Lestat to show her.”

“And the fool did it.”

Louis smiled. “But he was correct. Chérie did not lose consciousness and she held his gaze a long time, even discussing the vision with him as she beheld it.”

“But what is this vision?”

“I know what Lestat believes, but that is not mine to reveal, Armand.” Louis ran his hand down the tanned cheek. “Lestat will tell you gladly, I suspect, if you ask him.”

“And what do you believe, Louis?”

Louis’s smile was warm, filled with affection for the auburn-haired vampire. “I believe as Lestat believes. I can find no reason to doubt him in this.” He absently stroked Armand’s hair, so radiant and soft. “Stay with him a few days longer and learn what you can, my friend. This may be in the blood.”

Armand’s soft brown eyes grew large, but before he could again speak, the song ended.

“Hey, hands off!” Daniel commanded breathlessly as he rejoined them, Chérie on his arm. He promptly laughed.

“So protective, little one,” Armand said, the desire in his voice concealed in his face.

Louis grinned and bowed decorously. “My apologies, Daniel,” he said, welcoming Chérie’s embrace. “Forgive my indulgences.”

“Of course,” Daniel said, but he moved behind Armand and slipped his arms around him. Snuggling close to kiss the tanned cheek, he whispered, “As long as you remember, he’s mine.”

Armand smiled. “Yes, my beloved. But you must excuse me so I may dance with the bride. The hour grows late.” He allowed another kiss before gently taking Chérie’s hand.

She glanced at Louis.

He smiled and nodded. “Armand is correct, the hour is late. Dance, my love.”

Chérie smiled at Armand, only slightly taller than she in her heels. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. My neck is sore from dancing with these vampires with their...how did you say it of Daniel?”

Armand smiled. “Twentieth-century height.”

“Yes, precisely,” she said. “It can be annoying at times.”

Louis laughed silently. Neither Armand nor Chérie were short, and the fact that most of their height was in their long legs made them seem taller still. He had never considered himself tall until Lestat continually described him as such. He glanced at his adopted fledgling.

Daniel’s eyes were fixed lustily on Armand and he grinned sheepishly when he noticed Louis’s gaze upon him. “He loves it when I do that.”

“I can see how he might,” Louis said. “There is a certain satisfaction in it for you as well, I suspect.”

Daniel absently ran his tongue over his fanged teeth. “I don’t kiss and tell, remember?”

Louis laughed aloud.

They watched Armand and Chérie dance. She leaned close and then drew back, smiling, nodding, her lips moving. Louis shook his head in familiar astonishment. Armand was not the easiest creature to call friend, the continual questions, the often impenetrable pretense, yet Chérie seemed to pass right through these barriers.

Lestat, who stood talking with Santino and Eric, swiveled and exchanged words with Armand briefly as he and Chérie passed.

Daniel furrowed his brow. “Armand has been watching Lestat tonight. Is there anything I should be worried about?”

Louis slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. Nothing more than curiosity. He feels this change in Lestat strongly.”

“Yes, something is different,” Daniel said, raking his fingers through his hair. “But I shared a room with Lestat for the better part of a year. I figured it was separation anxiety. His, not mine.” He laughed quickly before casting a puzzled gaze on Louis. “You know, Marius comes out and it’s amazing what he’s seen, Armand’s maker. He’s told me more about languages alone than I’d ever realized was lost. But as old and powerful as he is, Marius doesn’t make me half as nervous as Lestat, with all his powers.”

Louis smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And me, Daniel? You know I have the same powers. Do I make you nervous?”

Amusement filled Daniel’s expression. “You? Come on, Louis!”

“And Chérie? She has the same powers,” he pressed.

“But I know how you two feel,” Daniel said quietly.

Louis leaned close. “I’ll tell you a secret, Daniel, though you should already know Lestat loves you as Chérie and I do. He’s told you often enough himself, but hearing him sometimes requires interpretation. Read between the lines and let his actions speak to you louder than his words. If you need proof, however, you have only to watch his eyes behind the lenses. They will grow brighter when he sees you because he cannot conceal his love right now. But look for this quickly, before he learns to control it.”

Daniel nodded, a light sparking his violet eyes. “I will.” He immediately set off across the parlor.

“Daniel!” Louis hissed. “I did not mean this very instant!”

The ashen-haired vampire shrugged. “What? I’ll be discreet.”

Louis bowed his head and sighed. “I’ve heard that before,” he said to no one but himself.

The piece ended and Armand cradled Chérie under his arm as they came towards Louis. The auburn-haired vampire watched, fascination filling his expression, as Chérie stepped forward and leaned her hands against Louis’s chest.

Louis wrapped her in his arms, nuzzling her ear, tasting her cheek, and covering her lips with his.

Armand smiled at the floor a moment before laying a hand on Louis’s shoulder. He searched his friend’s dark green eyes and slowly shook his head. Armand turned to Chérie and extended his hand. “I wish to tell you something.”

Puzzled, she nonetheless took his tanned fingers and allowed him to lead her to the bench before the harpsichord. She sat and Armand lowered himself beside her, still holding her hand. He glanced up to ensure Louis had followed. A wistful smile clouded his face.

“Earlier this century, I left this one,” he swept his free hand toward Louis, “on the banks of the Mississippi, not far from here.” A great sigh escaped him. “In nearly five hundred years, I have never known such utter despair as I felt that night.” Armand smiled, his gaze distant. “When I first knew Louis in Paris, he had an insatiable spirit, filled with love for all he saw, a growing thirst to be a part of everything our world offered.” He laughed and it was so joyous, his entire expression melted. “The simple act of climbing a tree was the most wondrous mystery revealed in his soothing, green eyes. These were the divine gifts he gave me, the innumerable tiny miracles we so quickly take for granted.”

He turned when he heard Daniel walk up. Lestat was a step behind him and leaned against Louis. Armand smiled affectionately and returned to Chérie, the smile slipping from his face. “When you have lost these wonders, you will do anything to hold them to you again.”

Lestat nodded, a forlorn smile tinting his lips, deepening the tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth.

Armand continued as before. “Louis saw my greed, my voracious hunger, and recognized this evil. He saw how far I would go and, perhaps worse, how far he himself had already gone. This crushed his gentle spirit just as it was blossoming and the fire went out of his eyes.” He sighed and stroked her hand gently. “For decades I watched, but never again did he show any interest in living. And it was this ghost of Louis I left beside the great river. A truly dead thing. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Vicious in his emptiness.”

He paused to hand Chérie a handkerchief. A great pain seemed to cross his face and leave him. Then jubilation slowly permeated his enormous brown eyes as he studied her.

“It was you who brought him back.”

Chérie was on the verge of breaking down completely and he invited her into his arms, stroking her hair as she pressed against his shoulder. “Not even his love for Lestat could rouse him from his deathly wandering. You awakened the passion in him, Chérie, and he found the courage to finally face his terrible pain.” Armand pulled her back and held her face in his hands. “You gave Louis life again and he is reborn. It is important you realize this miracle that has happened.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his silken kiss lingering against her flesh. “Thank you,” he said.

She wrapped her arms about him, clutching his back as she wept.

Armand soothed her gently until her sobbing abated. Slowly, he helped her rise, ducking to smile into her eyes before drawing her before Louis, a handkerchief crushed in his own fist.

Louis took her to his breast, holding her tightly, kissing the crown of her warm, brown hair. He glanced up and held the soft brown eyes in his gaze. One hand reached out, the fingers touching the tanned cheek.

“Armand. My friend.”

The auburn-haired vampire clasped Louis’s hand in both of his. “I am glad you are once more among the living, Louis.”

Louis nodded, lips pressed firmly together, his eyes liquid.

Daniel slid an arm around his maker’s shoulders and tenderly kissed the side of his head.

“It’s getting late,” Lestat said quietly, giving Louis a warm squeeze. “We need to get you to the airport. Go, gather your things.” He pressed his lips to Louis’s cheek, and to Chérie’s when she turned her face up to him. He smiled. “Go.”

As Louis led her away, she finally spoke, the barest whisper.

“I feel so small, Louis.”

“So do I, my love. So do I.”

They smiled to the vampires they passed, stepping from the parlor and down the hallway to their rooms. Louis closed the bedroom doors behind them and they clung to each other.

“That was the most horrible tale I’ve ever heard,” she said quietly.

“For me as well. The worst part is that it’s true.” Louis sighed, leaning heavily against the doors. “The thing that I was.”

“That is the cause of your nightmares, isn’t it?”

Louis’s eyes closed in anguish. “I’m sorry, my love. I had hoped they would be hidden from you.”

“You know you cannot conceal such a thing.” Chérie was quiet for a long moment. “Would you choose to become that lifeless fiend again, Louis?”

Disgust filled his features. “God, no! Never.”

She slowly smiled. “Your decision is firm, then? You’re certain?”

Louis laughed aloud and pulled her closer. “Absolutely!”

“Then stop worrying about it, my love. I am not going anywhere. Not without you, in any case.”

He turned her to face him, holding her chin in his hand. “Do you understand now how brave you are? From Armand’s story? It is a miracle I did not kill you that night, the moment I saw you looking up at me.” He kissed her quickly. “I had done exactly that, countless times.”

Chérie smiled. “You felt no fear in me. And I hope you know by now that I’m not a fool.” She stroked his cheek. “You couldn’t kill me, Louis. It’s simply not what was supposed to happen.”

Louis grinned. “But I did kill you, my love. The next night.”

“Lestat killed me, Louis. I would have survived your beautiful kiss, if he had refused.”

“If he had refused, I would have finished it, to the very threshold of death.”

She laughed quietly. “I’m glad to hear that. There’s a comfort in it somehow.” Her eyes misted. “Lestat is right, you know. All your victims love you. I knew my mortal life was over the moment I saw you, Louis. One way or another.”

“You had only to tell me your name,” he said.

“I know.”

He gently pushed the hair away from her face. “You left me that choice. Why?”

“I had one long moment to watch you, to see the unconcealed torment cloud your beautiful face before you knew I saw you. And I knew in that instant how close you were to life again.” A thin red veil obscured her eyes, but it was not sadness. “You needed to make that choice. I could not take that away from you. Passivity was as much your demon as indifference.” Her smile lighted her face. “And you slew them both, my brave husband.”

“Stubborn. Not brave.” Louis smiled when she laughed.

“Stealing Lestat’s lines again, are you?”

“He’s stolen mine often enough.” Mischief broadened his smile. “We should get Gabrielle, Armand, and Marius together to pick apart Lestat’s autobiography.”

Chérie laughed. “There’s that mean streak again.”

“Oh, not for publication. Just to hand Lestat a marked up copy.” A laugh escaped him. “Let him shred that!”

“Yes, I must admit that would be fun to watch. But there’s no time for it now.” She kissed him quickly. “Get your coat. We can change on the plane.” Her eyes passed over him lustily. “And there’s the matter of consummating this marriage. I want to take my time with that suit.”

He blushed despite himself and donned his coat. “Cloaks?”

Chérie crinkled her nose. “I should have put them down the chute earlier.”

Louis nodded. He too smelled the faint scent of death on them. He scooped them up and dropped them down the laundry chute while Chérie placed brushes, hair ties, and sundry other small items in a bag. Their luggage had been packed and sent ahead to the plane days earlier. Now, finally, they knew their destination.

“Is there anything else you’d like to take, my love?” Chérie asked.

Louis puzzled a moment before answering. “Yes, but I do not believe it will fit in that bag.”

“What is it?”

“You,” he said, smiling and holding her long black cape.

She grinned, delighted. “You say the sweetest things.” She slipped into the cape, fastening it quickly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever become accustomed to such dramatic garments,” she said, laughing.

He pulled on a long black overcoat and while adjusting the fur collar, he remembered as he always did when Lestat had insisted upon purchasing it for him in London one cold winter.

“Memories, my love. More so than when we were mortal, clothes remind us vividly of where we have been and what we have seen.” Louis regarded her approvingly. “I knew the moment I spied that cape it was meant for you. And you needed a bit of velvet, you’re married now.” He sighed. “You are lovely.”

“As are you,” Chérie said, smiling. She retrieved her rose.

“You’re not taking your hat?”

She laughed. “No, that’s my something borrowed. And my something old. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it.” Amusement twinkled in her eyes.

Louis studied the flat crown, the brim with its tiny curl bent to a delicate point in front. It almost looked like something a British lady might wear to the hunt. He shook his head. “Not a glimmer, I’m afraid.”

“Well, it did need reblocking. Lestat couldn’t believe it was the same hat when he saw it. Apparently, he’d had more curl put in the brim, but it had long since fallen out and I don’t have his jaunty ego, shall we say.”

Louis’s eyes went wide in recognition, his black hair swishing about his shoulders as he shook his head. “That can’t be Lestat’s. Good Lord! He bought that in...eighteen fifty-seven! It couldn’t have survived all these years.”

Chérie nodded. “That’s why he picked it. Exactly one hundred years older than me. As for surviving, the silk was shot but the construction was sound.” Wonder filled her eyes. “And I couldn’t believe all the things he has preserved on Prytania Street! The room Lestat pull that out of couldn’t have been opened in a century or more. We ended up taking the door off the hinges to pry it open, it was so stuck. The hatbox alone would be a collector’s treasure! Not a drop of moisture had touched it in the trunk he lifted it from.”

“It sounds like quite an adventure. I’m afraid I’ve never been inside that house, though I’ve walked past it often enough.” He smiled at her puzzled expression. “You know the truth now about the account in my book. His autobiography isn’t wholly accurate either. It was Armand’s taunting and Lestat’s delirium that placed me there, not fact. After the Théâtre des Vampires, and except for a couple of fleeting glimpses as he drove along Divisidero Street, I didn’t see Lestat again until we met in the Carmel Valley, on the eve of his concert.” Sadness tinged his smile.

Chérie regarded him kindly. “I know, Louis. It still hurts, doesn’t it? So much pain that one missed meeting has caused.”

Louis smiled and there was confidence in his eyes. “Yes, but he and I will heal. With time.” His eyes filled with love. “Your idea of doing the new edition gave us an enormous start. Thank you, my love.”

“It was only an idea.” She smiled and gave her shoulders a shrug. “The credit is yours. You two have come so far in...what did you call it? But an instant?”

He laughed quietly and kissed her as she took his arm. “So, will you be tossing your bridal bouquet?”

She gazed at the rose and Queen’s Wreath. “Not quite a bouquet, but yes, I will toss it.” She smiled impishly. “And I know who will catch it.”

“Clairvoyance?” he teased. “Or a special wish?”

“I’m not clairvoyant,” she said evasively as he opened the doors.

He waited by the door to the study, watching as she ducked inside and retrieved several music discs, dropping them into her bag.

They stepped onto the long gallery to find Lestat, Armand, and Daniel awaiting them. None of the others were in evidence.

“Is it that late?” Louis asked. “Has everyone fled to their crypts?”

Lestat grinned. “Yes, Chérie. Wake him early when you can. His disorientation is too delightful.”

“Always so malicious, Lestat,” Louis said, shaking his head sadly. He stepped close and caught Lestat in mid-giggle, suddenly pulling his maker’s body tightly to him. He covered those determined lips with his mouth, softly drawing on his maker’s breath as if it were blood. As their lips parted, he saw the smile curling one corner of Lestat’s mouth. He smoothed the yellow hair. “How long will we be gone, mon père?” Louis whispered. His eyes blazed when his maker’s smile faded, ever so slightly.

“Don’t be mean,” Chérie scolded, suppressing a giggle.

“But he so enjoys my mean streak.” Louis gently touched the rim of the dark glasses as he righted his maker. He leaned close, whispering for Lestat’s ear alone. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Armand’s expression was as unreadable as ever. “This is amusing, of course, but we must be going.”

“Yes, you two will be fine once you’re on the plane,” Daniel pointed out. “But we still need to drive back.” He and Armand led the way to the door.

Lestat quickly pressed his hand to Louis’s chest, eyes afire behind the dark lenses. “You will miss me more, bien-aimé.” And he laughed. The peals of bells.

But it was more than that, Louis knew, gathering Chérie to him and following as their maker strode out of the flat. The laughter was the sound of pure joy, and he loved it as he had always loved it. And yes, he would miss it dearly.

He drew Chérie to a halt beside the fountain as he breathed deeply of the lush blooms. She smiled warmly and nodded, understanding completely.

They hurried to catch up, passing out of the townhouse as Lestat held the gate for them. Armand and Daniel had circled the car to climb in the opposite side.

The Rue Royale was blessedly silent. And then, as the driver opened the door for them, it began to rain. Hard, cold rain pelted down upon them, though the narrow street remained strangely dry.

Chérie realized it first, her hands flying to her mouth.

Louis extended a long palm and it filled with grain.

“Rice,” he said, quietly amazed.

They turned, shielding their eyes, to see their guests squeezed onto the balconies, showering them from above. Chérie held out a hand to them and several were raised in return.

Louis just smiled and bowed slightly. “Thank you,” he told them as his maker clapped him on the back and hustled them into the car.

As they rolled onto the interstate, Lestat shook his hair to its fullest, sending rice flying about the compartment. Chérie laughed joyously.

“You spend too much time with that dog, Lestat,” Armand said, which set Lestat giggling.

His laughter filled the car as it sped towards the airport and Louis delighted in the sound the entire way. After what seemed like only moments, they rolled out onto the private tarmac and halted before Armand’s jet, the turbines already turning over.

They alighted from the car and Louis saw the eastern sky had gone from black to the deepest blue, the same blue that always lined his coffins. Lestat followed his gaze and smiled, knowing.

At the foot of the stairs, Armand drew Chérie into his arms, stroking her hair lightly. “There is something for you upon the bed. Please forgive me, but there was not time to have it properly framed. You will understand when you see.”

She kissed his silken lips and smiled warmly. “Thank you, Armand. Thank you for allowing me your understanding.” She smiled up at Louis and then back to Armand before stepping aside.

Louis searched the soft brown eyes, so old, peering out of the youthful body. He touched the tanned cheek as he bent, his kiss deep, and gathered the auburn-haired vampire into his arms.

“Armand. My dear friend,” he whispered in his ear, his voice only faintly audible above the jet. “I love you still.”

Armand pulled him away, smoothing the black hair from his face. “Louis. Alive. And everything is possible again.” He smiled.

Louis nodded before surrounding Daniel with his long arms, holding him gently, feeling the soft, pliant texture of his flesh. “Thank you, Daniel, for everything you have given us. Where would we be without you?” He smiled and glanced briefly at Armand. “Take care of him.”

Daniel nodded, squeezing Louis tightly before he stepped back. “For as long as he allows.”

Chérie smiled broadly and leaned up to kiss Daniel’s lips, and for once he allowed her lingering embrace. When their lips parted, she took his hand and smoothed his fingers open. Gently, she laid the rose across his palm and folded his fingers over its stem. “May it be forever, Daniel, my dear friend.”

His violet eyes lighted as he took her gingerly in his arms, as if she would break under his touch. “I will miss you, Chérie.” He slowly released her and, resting a hand upon Armand’s shoulder, breathed deeply of the rose.

Louis and Chérie smiled before turning to their maker.

Lestat scooped up Chérie and she laughed as he turned her dizzily. He stroked her hair. Smoothed her brow. Ran his finger down her cheek, over her lips.

Her entire face melted as a blood-red streak emerged from under his glasses. She gently tipped the lenses off his nose and he quickly shut his eyes. Chérie kissed the tears away, her lips lingering on each closed eyelid, tasting his blond lashes before lowering the glasses into place.

“Enjoy your new eyes, Lestat, and see how happy you make us. I love you, mon père. Lestat.”

“Almost as much as I love you, ma petite.” Her maker met her lips tenderly. “Watch over Louis. Keep him safe. Bonsoir, Chérie.” His smile was heartbroken as he set her gently on the step.

Lestat’s lips moved as he draped a muscular arm around Louis, but no words found voice. His brow crumpled, his head shaking. “I can’t,” he finally whispered, shrugging his shoulders as he drew Louis into his arms.

“No more surly remarks for me, my beloved?” Louis whispered in his ear, face buried in the yellow hair, holding onto his maker tightly. “A temporary condition, I’m sure.” He smiled when he felt Lestat’s grin against his cheek. “You are dear to me as life itself, mon père.” His maker’s sigh sent a shudder racing through his entire body. “Find us if you need us,” he whispered.

“I love you, Louis. Go to Paris and see it new through her eyes. Love it all again. And then come back to me, safe and well.” Lestat laughed softly. “Her house may not be finished, so come home. To your home. To your New Orleans. And we shall rule it as we have always done.”

Louis felt the dampness against his cheek and he laughed. “I again have your handkerchief, don’t I?” He pulled away and slipped his hand quickly into his pocket. He came out with a large square of linen, his own initials in the corner. “Or perhaps my own, for once.” He laughed aloud and shook his head at the irony, formally offering the handkerchief to his maker. “My champion,” he said, grinning. “You have served me well.” He pressed a thumb to his lips, but the moment he saw Lestat quaking with laughter and clutching the linen to his breast, he knew it was futile.

Lestat clung to him as they burst out laughing.

Chérie watched, her eyes swimming, until they could contain themselves somewhat. “We must go, my love. We must be airborne before the sun.”

Louis nodded and hurriedly gave his maker a last hug. “I love you, Lestat.” He stepped beside Chérie.

Lestat took their hands, pressing his lips to each in turn. He smiled proudly. “Such children I have,” he said, a quiet awe in his voice. “Now fly!”

They squeezed his strong fingers, waved to Armand and Daniel beside the car, and mounted the steps, turning once before disappearing inside.

Louis led Chérie quickly to the private compartment in the rear of the jet, carefully locking the door behind them and pulling the blinds shut over the small oblong windows.

Chérie sat on the bed, drawing a long gold box onto her lap. They felt the roar of the engines surge as the jet began rolling forward and she pulled the white ribbon free.

Louis removed his overcoat and lowered himself beside her, holding her firmly as the jet lifted into the air and she removed the lid from the box. Chérie smiled a child’s smile as she dug through the mountains of tissue paper, the rustling as of old taffeta.

She pulled free a long roll of glossy paper, tied with a thin blue ribbon. Sliding it from the roll, she unfurled the paper and gasped in delight. “Mon Dieu!”

“Careful, my love. You’re beginning to think en français.” But Louis frowned. “Armand knows you have this already. I told him of it myself.”

Chérie shook her head excitedly. “Not like this one, I don’t!”

He searched the poster for the movie of his book, but it looked the same.

“Here,” she said, pointing. “Don’t you see? He’s had it signed! Lestat and the actor who played him. Daniel and the actor. Oh, and here is Armand’s along with that stunning Spaniard’s.” She tipped the poster to read the signatures. “And you must sign it, Louis. Here, where the actor who played you signed.”

“I will, my love.” Louis shook his head in wonder. The actors had each scrawled their personal well-wishes along with their signatures but the vampires had not. “That must be where Armand went in such a hurry.” He laughed. “To think of what he must have done to get these! In one night, no less.” He furrowed his brow, lost in thought. “I hope he didn’t draw blood.”

“It’s more likely he gave them one of his lovely visions to convince them of who he was and then made them forget afterwards. They still have Lestat’s books to film, after all.” Chérie jumped to the floor and held the poster against the cabin wall at the foot of the bed. “Should we put it up, do you think?” she teased.

Louis groaned and fell back on the bed.

She laughed and carefully rolled the poster, setting it back in its tissue nest and moving the box off the bed. She removed her cape before sitting again beside him. “Are you tired, my love? It’s been a long night and I’m sure you want to sleep.”

He caught her in his arms and pulled her over, to lie next to him. “Not in the least, my love, my wife. The jet must be taking the long way.” Rolling onto his side, his lips found hers in the dim cabin light and he tasted them again, and yet again. Louis leaned on one elbow. “I love you, Chérie,” he whispered, his dark green eyes aglow, his fingers lazily playing with her hair.

Chérie smiled up at him. “And I love you right back.”

He laughed. “So I’m stuck with you, am I?”

“Oh yes. Forever, my husband.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her perfectly against him. Louis sighed contentedly.

“Oh, thank God!”

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• Night Five
• Epilogue

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