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The warehouse was filled with the smell of smoke, sweat, whisky, and silent anguish. All sorts of flesh was on sale but the palest. Louis took a sip from his silver flask. He could barely see because he simply didn't want to see. He wanted to be nothing more than dead, and if that yet wasn't possible being drunk would have to do. In his hazy thoughts he went over and over again the memory of Paul screaming for help, imploring him to believe that his life was in danger.
Taking another swig, the vision of the inspector who had questioned him during the day, swam in the alcoholic sway of his mind.
"Tell me again, tell me again," Louis heard over and over again as the inspector sized him with up with his tiny blood shot red eyes. Louis could tell the inspector knew he had something to hide about Paul. Louis also could tell the inspector had made up his mind not to look too deeply into his bother's case. Inspector de Franval knew the de Pointes was a family of high standing in the community and he did not see any need reason to create a scandal. He hinted around if Paul possibly killed himself. The deadly look on Louis' face made de Franvel feel distinctly afraid. He knew the de Pointe's had legendary tempers which no one wanted to go up against. Louis's great-great grandfather, Dolmance, had the most impeccable manners you would ever want to see on a man. A sweet, gentle sort who one sunny day loaded his pistol and shot his mistress Juliet, for partaking of a flirtation with a servant. This after Juliet had been carrying on an affair with Dolmance's brother for the past six months. A situation Dolmance was well aware of. The inspector knew of Louis' indulgences with many of the sons in the upper reaches of society. He couldn't help but wonder if Louis and Paul had a jealous falling out over the attentions of one of these well born young men. Might not Louis having invited his brother into his pastimes, found himself replaced in a lover's affections by his own younger brother? The last thing the inspector wanted was any kind of that knowledge to be made official to the public. New Orleans was a place you didn't want to make rich enemies in.
De Franval questioned Marie about Paul. She had her white rosary tangled in her hands as if it were a beautiful chain. She wanted to exonerate her oldest son, but how could she, and still stay loyal to Paul--the son who loved her best. She broke down in tears telling him about Paul's cries for help.
She struggled with her words as if she were playing with fire. Without Louis there would be no one to run the plantation, she would be ruined. Therese also. Worse she felt like every word she said was a weapon which could be used against her memory of who Paul was. Marie had the feeling Louis was keeping some terrible dark secret about Paul, and she didn't want to know. She wanted to remember Paul as he had always been to her. Even with her doubts about Louis' innocence she still depended on his protection. Tearfully, she prayed Louis, guilty or not, would not be arrested for Paul's death. That it would all be explained away for her and she could go on with her way of life, the only life she knew how to live.
The daughter, Therese had been over at a friend's plantation. The slaves De Franval questioned told him about how Paul was lifted up in the air by an evil sprit. Slaves gullible ignorant, always telling lies. Yvette, a pretty house slave, told him about how she heard unearthly laughter while Paul was falling down the stairs. More nonsense. But what it did establish was Louis was no where near Paul when he fell down. Case closed the boy slipped. It was an accident.
An accident, Louis wondered over and over again, How could it have been an accident?
Jamie shuffled forward. Wrist and leg chains gripping at him, dragging him down with every step he took away from what once was his life. He wanted to put his hands to his thighs to hide his nudity. He felt as if he had no humanity left to him, and being ashamed was useless and ridiculous. Men with rich clothing and a few sporting ladies called out to each other explaining over this child's beauty, or this man's strength, or the sturdy legs on this woman. They inspected the merchandise carefully, looking the meat over for clues to see what kind of servants they would make. Occasionally a wanton remark was made over the charms of a pretty young female. These ugly insults made at the young girls were done to further shove the men, women, and children into a state of bestiality. Jamie wished he could take them all far away, the frightened children hanging on to their mothers' naked legs. The mothers who were no longer allowed to play the role of mother to their children who would soon be sold from them. The fathers, the sons, the daughters, the lovers all with dumb, passive expressions on their dark and brown faces. Jamie's turn came up. He took his place standing before them. All the while he was standing before them; the slave seller explained over Jamie's virtues, pointing out what a fine, sturdy back he had, and that he could play the piano.
Sell him, Louis thought bitterly to himself, Sell him so I don't have to look at him anymore.
Louis felt it to be perfectly fair. Paul was gone, now it was time to make Jamie disappear.
A fat, burly Monsieur Dubois, a husky man of fifty years with sandy hair, bought Jamie for $250.00. He asked if he could come up and have a look at what he paid for. Trailing his hands on Jamie's naked thighs, he pinched them both, raising his hand, barely almost touching Jamie's cock. He placed his hand on Jamie's abdomen, prodding him, glazing greedy up into Jamie's beautiful brown and golden eyes, thinking he would fuck him for a couple days then send him out to his sugar cane fields to work
Jamie shivered wanting to throw up. He couldn't believe while he was feeling so devoid of having any kind of manhood at all this man would be desiring him. He couldn't believe the man was so aroused by him that he wanted to touch him as if he were a human being, a boy, when he felt like he was nothing but an animal, empty, a nothing. He bit his lips refusing to cry.
"Turn around to let me have a look at your back, " Monsieur Dubois said, stroking the small of Jamie's back, pinching and cupping his ass while the crowd could not see what he was doing. Jamie did as he was told, turning his back to the crowd. Taking his whip he patted the back of Jamie's thighs, forcing him to spread them. "Bend over now," he said evenly, The crowd went attentive, lustfully glazing at the beauty of Jamie's youthful, muscular, golden brown body.
"Now de Pointe, you didn't put some tar up his ass to hide his having dysentery, did you now?" Dubois laughed. The crowd laughed along with him.
Louis took in a drunken breath disgusted at seeing the rough hands playing and toying with Jamie's body on the pretense of inspecting him for faults while the crowd watched. He hated seeing Jamie's hands, those beautiful, long, strong, talented hands, those hands soon to be destroyed picking sugar cane, those hands, which looked like his father's hand's.
"Three hundred," Louis shouted, now knowing without a doubt Jamie was not the bastard his father claimed him to be. He was his cousin, he was his uncle Alexandre's child, "Three hundred and fifty dollars, four hundred."
"But Monsieur de Pointe, I need him for my sugar fields! Please accept my apologies if my jibes offended you," Monsieur Dubois cried.
The crowd murmured. Disgust and contempt swelled from them for Louis. The gossip spreading like spilled kerosene abut how he pushed his brother down the stairs.
"Four hundred and fifty, I'll pay you four hundred fifty ," Louis cried his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Sold then," Monsieur Du Bois said fearfully, not wanting to be the next vicim of De Pointe's anger. He fully believed from the cold way Louis hand played with his rapier, Louis was more than capable of murdering a man.
The slave seller undid Jamie's chains, and threw him his clothes.
"Why, why did you treat me this way?" Jamie said breaking down in tears and fear," You've known me since I was a child. How can you do this to me?"
"You used Paul," Louis said coldly, "You used me. You wanted your freedom so bad you took advantage of a sick child. Fine, you're free Jamie. Choke on your freedom."
"I wanted my freedom so I could be with Paul. So we could leave together. We loved each other," Jamie said tearfully, "It was the only way I could think of for us to really be together as as, please. I knew the only way we could be together was if we left New Orleans. Louis please, I loved your brother."
"The worst thing I ever did to Paul was to put him into your hands. You manipulative, evil monster," Louis hissed wondering who he was talking to Jamie or himself. "He was screaming, begging for help. No one helped him. You knew about what he was doing to himself. The burns, how he was hurting himself. You let all of that go on! Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped him, I could have gotten him to a doctor. You did nothing to save Paul."
"I didn't betray Paul's secrets to you, any more than I betrayed your secrets to Paul," Jamie said, fearing Louis would sell him again, "You wanted me to be Paul's whore. I was never Paul's whore."
"You're just a child," Louis said painfully aware now of how thin and haggard Jamie was, "Paul was just a child. I should never should have. The both of you were just children. It's no excuse for what you did to him! You knew he was sick!"
"I thought he was magic. I didn't know! I believed in him! I thought he had to hurt himself to be magic," Jamie wailed.
Stumbling out of the warehouse, Louis left Jamie to starve, perish, he didn't give a damn what happened to Jamie, or to himself, all he wanted to do was to find someone to murder him like he felt he and Jamie murdered Paul.
Old Sally waddled up to Jamie. "Is is true now what they say that you play the piano like an angel?"
"Oui," Jamie said carefully, keeping his head down. Even through now he was free any disrespect shown to a white man or woman would be a cause for his arrest and a public whipping in the town square.
"How would you like to be working for me now then? I own a right nice social house and I can do with a piano player, and someone to help me keep the place tidy. Mind you, you be knowing all me girls be white girls. I don't want you to be bothering them."
"I won't brother them," Jamie said, wondering what to do.
"I be paying you a nickel a week, and that includes a free room and all you food you can eat to chase the skinniness out of you. There you go. I'm not a bad sort you know. I be paying you more if you be doing special jobs for me."
"I'm a good worker," Jamie said reassuringly to her, frightened of being left alone with so many men with pistols and rapiers at their sides.
"Then off with you," Old Sally said cheerfully, taking Jamie with her.
Louis strolled the alley's, singing a profane song of a girl who was the type who harbored many a sailor lad. He held out his hand, catching a rain drop. He sighed, feeling himself calm down, he couldn't stand looking at Jamie, anymore than he could stand looking in a mirror, but he knew he had go back to collect Jamie and bring him home.
"You make for a charming drunk Louis," came out a voice behind him.
A man appeared out of nowhere with beautiful lace at his throat, and an elegant frock coat. He would have been a intriguing man, what with his fine blond hair tied back, and his perfect, sharp white teeth, and his haughty, beautiful angel's face-- a rather stuck up angel's face. Oui, a very intriguing man, if only his rude manners didn't spoil any affect his good looks might of had on Louis. His voice was boldly insinuating. and he was standing imprudently too close to him as if he were inspecting him.
"You have the looks of a big toad who spies a rather tasty, and helpless fly," Louis said coldly, "Look here monsieur, the fly has this to sting you with," Louis pulled out his rapier. "Shall I drive it through you, or would you?" he laughed, bringing his face tantalizing close to Lestat's, he whispered, "Would you like to drive it through me?"
Lestat stepped backwards, he could barely keep his mouth from falling open in a most undignified fashion. This wasn't at all what he was expecting from the gentle, well mannered man he had been stalking for a month.
"A word with you monsieur," Lestat said flustered.
"What just a word?" Louis said sarcastically, "Your mouth looks sweet sir for a toad's. Shall your little fly give your mouth a kiss? Ah, but we all know the shit flies feed upon in their daily going abouts. Shall you dare it, Monsieur Toad?" Pulling Lestat into his arms, Louis licked around Lestat's bewildered mouth, finally locking his lips on his, teasing the insides of Lestat's mouth with his bold explorations.
"Ow, Toad did you bite me!" Louis cried out in pain from having run his tongue against one of Lestat's fangs. "I swear, that's kissing enough from you anyway." Teasingly, Louis put his hands on Lestat's shoulders.
Pushing Louis in the chest making him almost fall, Lestat yelled, "So, you would kiss any man?"
"Oui, even toads!" Louis laughed, goading Lestat to violence, "And not only are you a toad, you're a whore's son, a bastard, a vile libertine who deflowers virgins. You smell monsieur of a whore's slop bucket!"
"And you, you are, you're very beautiful," Lestat said calmly, determined to have this mortal be his lover if it be but for only one night of Louis languishing in his arms, or uncountable nights of eternity on the Devil's Road. Catching Louis up in his arms, he broke into his skin. Louis' blood hit his upper palette, the red liquid spinning around like a wine being swirled in a long stemmed glass. A vortex of pure passion to undress the mortal in his arms, to hold him naked, his flesh straining, sliding against his woke inside of Lestat with a roar. Louis murmured some nonsense. Lestat bit him harder, happy to hear Louis' small cry of pain, gratified to hear Louis' abandoned whisper of pleasure. Louis pushed himself against the golden aura of his beautiful lover. His erection exploding in his breeches. His cock begging to be stroked, fingered, and licked. Lestat pushed Louis up against a wall, deciding he would from drink Louis while fucking him as he was standing. The brick of the wall felt cold and hard to Louis' face, he moaned for more sharp caresses. He felt fingers unbuttoning his breeches, the fine cloth being pulled down exposing his naked thighs. He felt the sharp intrusion of fangs entering into his neck. The parting of his butt cheeks. A cock pushed itself inside of him. He cried out in pain, a wonderful, wicked pain. One he wished he was inflecting on another as he was feeling it also. Lestat's cock burrowed itself right to his anal rim. The cold of this devil's cock inside his ass made Louis' capacity for joy dance like sparks. Lestat released his grip in Louis' throat, fondling Louis' prick, wanting to delight his lover to death, perhaps, perhaps not to death. Lestat's lips descended to give Louis a sharp kiss once again right into Louis' vein, taking another drink. A fist slammed into Lestat's face, a kick went right into his swollen groin. Louis slid down the wall into the mud.
Armand!! You bastard you imp!" Lestat screamed, scrambling up on his knees.
"Every name he called you! I find to be true! Libertine. Toad. Bastard! Whore's son!" Armand cursed, kicking Lestat's groin again. "And dolt!"
"I agree with Armand. How dare you make a liar out of yourself," Henri said angrily, pulling Louis' breeches up, restoring an unconscious Louis' modesty, "You promised to give him the choice. having your way with a drunken man is hardly presenting him with a choice!"'
"I forgot my vow, and who are you to interfere with me! I will have this mortal and you will not gainsay me, by God, either of you!" Lestat swore, putting his fist to Armand's face.
"This man you want I swear you are playing with one who could well set fires," Armand cursed. ducking the clumsy swing of Lestat's fist. "Leave him alone here to die! Least what is between us dies. You had enough fooling yourself with him"
Henri slipped off. He hurried back with a mortal in tow.
"Louis," Jean cried running to his side, oblivious to the two gentlemen arguing by his body. Jean slapped Louis' face gently, checking his pulse. "What has happened here?"
"My friend, and my dear cousin found him like this. I fear he had been attacked and robbed!" Henri said hurriedly.
"Oui, attacked and robbed!" Armand said frantically, trying not to grin at Lestat. Armand felt glad to have a cousin for once.
"Oui, someone's been robbed," Lestat growled ready to crush the young mortal's throat.
Before he could spring himself on mortal, Louis groaned, "Jean, Jean," his eyes fluttered open, he reached for his hands.
Damn it all," Lestat thought angrily.
Jean took his handkerchief and wiped at Louis face, "I have my carriage with me. I'll take you home. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart." Jean looked up. All three of Louis' good Samaritans had disappeared.
Jean felt an uneasy tickle of fear running up his spinal cord, calling for his slaves to help him, he hurried Louis away.
"What is the matter with you!" Lestat screamed from where they were hiding. He grabbed Henri by his fine ascot.
"Leave my dear cousin Henri alone," Armand smirked. "he was just saving you from the biggest mistake of your life!"
"It's my life!" Lestat stormed
"I saved you from dishonor," Henri said bravely. "Someone has to help you keep your vows apparently!"
"Lestat please come with me." Armand begged, pulling on his sleeve. "Please let's talk this over before you have regrets."
Lestat's lust was in turmoil. He couldn't help but admire Armand's own particular, young, boyish beauty under the cold star light. Even through he knew it was an illusion. How could one tell Armand's youth was a lie except but to look into the ancient evil in Armand's eyes. Armand looked every bit a Renaissance angel having escaped from the canvas of a master painter. Lestat knew he was being seduced, but he didn't care. In a whirl wind of wanting, he took Armand's hand, determined to slake the ache in his loins Louis' escape had left him with.
Henri sighed, hurrying away after the two left, he prayed his cousin Armand could keep Lestat permanently immobilized on his sharp charms. And Lestat would leave Louis alone. Bianca, he prayed her name, then he really prayed, crossing himself for Paul's sake. He hurried away to Pointe du Lac.
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