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Louis mindlessly worked at his rosewood desk not really having any motivation to make any sense of the business letters he was reading. Gingerly, he touched his chest with his long slender fingers, not really believing himself to be real.
Earlier in the evening Louis awakened from his death sleep. His eyes staring right up at the lid of his coffin. He hurriedly threw it open That little thrill of panic that he had somehow been locked in his box chased down his throat like a shot of rot gut whisky.
He then straightened out his clothing, reminding himself to take on the gestures of a mortal man, knowing he was no longer one. His body was aching, stiff, and starving. Hungry for the blood which would animate his limbs to renewed vigor and strength. He strode into the stable. The sound of scurrying feet could be heard up on the loft. Hurriedly, he climbed the ladder with preternatural speed. He leaped at the source of that dry rasping sound. A hideous sewer rat which would make for his meal. If its sad tasting blood would not completely calm his hunger down it would slacken his hunger enough for him not to seek out his true desire for the taste of a human being. He tossed the rat from him, going down to the main house..
Louis chewed on his quell, he couldn't get it out of his mind the disturbing way it felt to wake up in a box every evening.
"What are you doing?" came a voice behind him. A rose was dropped onto his papers.
"A present to make up for the misunderstandings between us." said the voice.
Louis' lips stretched into a bewitching smile. He brought the rose to his straight nose. "Ah, how thoughtful of you. A rose from my mother's garden." He almost wanted to add the words, she doesn't understand me either.
"Merci," Louis said instead, trying to keep his face engaging.
"You look lovely tonight," Lestat whispered into Louis' ear, squeezing his shoulder. Lestat puzzled over Louis' appearance. Of late, Louis had only appeared in dull suits of mourning. For past nights he would wear nothing else. Tonight he was wearing stockings of fine white silk, tight velvet black breeches, and a white, linen, ruffled shirt opened all the way down. His skin looked beautifully creamy and blood tinted from the dazzling whiteness of his shirt. His hair resting untied on his shoulders reminded Lestat of what night would look like resting on ivory. Experimenting, daring himself, Lestat slid his hand inside of Louis' unbuttoned shirt. He half expected Louis to angrily slap him.
Instead, to Lestat's wary surprise, Louis didn't stir. Passively, Louis allowed the hand to pinch at his nipples, and caress his chest.
"Mon ami," Lestat breathed in Louis' ear "You're giving in much too easily. Where are your reproaches? It's only a rose."
"It came from you didn't it?" Louis breathed, despising himself. Louis took a breath to steady himself to do some more simpering.
"So it did come from me. I thought you didn't like me," Lestat teased, hiding his hopes, "What has so suddenly changed you then? Is it my apology of sorts which makes you kinder towards me?"
"The way you treated me the night I was created," Louis breathed.
"Oui," Lestat said ashamed, "Louis, I was out of sorts. Panicked, I acted the fool towards you out of sheer panic. Your creation was a choice for me too you know. A significant choice which has changed my life forever."
Louis touched the porcelain figurine on his desk of a tiny merchant sitting at his own little desk. A merchant adding up his profit. The cold hard touch of the porcelain material the merchant was made of startled Louis. Louis reflected he had more in common with the hollow porcelain than he had now with any human merchant.
Lestat tilted back so he could have a better look of Louis.
Strands of dark hair fell into the thinness of Louis' cheek accenting the sullen rebelliousness of Louis' seductive lips.
Louis leaned forward catching Lestat unaware. Pressing his mouth to Lesat's cheek, Louis kissed it, then gave Lestat's face a lingering lick full of wanton suggestion. He undid Lestat's ascot letting it fall to the floor.
"Monsieur," Louis said, blushing, stopping his undress of Lestat, pretending to be overcome by his boldness, affecting a voice of shyness.
"Lestat, Lestat, please call me Lestat no need to be formal with me," Lestat mummered, the flesh on his throat tingling from where Louis' strong stoking fingers reached up to touch him.
"Upon reflection and out of common decency, I must swallow my pride and admit to you I was wrong. I now blame myself," Louis said, looking soulfully. Louis turned his face away from Lestat's, "I blame myself for your beastly behavior to me the night of my creation. After all," Louis said quickly, turning his face so their lips were tantalizingly close enough to kiss, "What impression did I give you of myself?" Louis shut his eyes as if he were in pain simply thinking about it. "I presented myself to you as a common ruffian. A public drunkard, a barbarian," Louis said earnestly, "I threw myself at you. Kissing you! You, a complete stranger. What kind of behavior should I have expected from you? Kind, respectful, benevolent behavior? Non, I behaved like a rough ignorant fellow and you treated me justly."
"Do you not remember anything that went beyond a kiss that first night we met?" Lestat said softly, ready for the joy which would be finally his tonight.
"Non," Louis said flatly, forgetful of being pressed against the wall, and being ravished, "Oui, the sweetness of your bite. Ah, I remember that well."
"Louis," Lestat said guiltily, thinking of Armand.
"And now I know all you wanted to do was to provide a roof over your poor father's head!"
The night after Lestat created him, Lestat moved in his mortal father, much to the regret of Yvette who had the added burden of taking care of the impatient old man. Louis formed a gentle bond with Lestat's father, feeling for the old man's ailments.
"Louis, I, that was only part of the reason for your immortality. And I do thank you for the kindness you have shown my father even through I can not stand the old goat. Non, do not make such a face, I am but joking. It tries my patience to be with him through. His mortality you know it sometimes. I can only force myself to tolerate my father in his weakness. I'm feel afraid whenever I lose my patience with him I will end up killing him."
"My poor Lestat," Louis breathed.
"You must understand my dear Louis," Lestat said, feeling like he was dreaming, hoping he wasn't, "My father came from a great line of men, landed gentry, and he was a failure. He fell into a dark depression literally. He was going blind, and he was too proud to tell anyone of us. Think of it Louis daily his vision was eroding. He chose to drink himself to a stupor to cope with his illness. Starving us in the bargain, his family. We went without food and were cold many a night. I never was educated properly. It wasn't till my brother Augustin became old enough to manage our estate that poverty eased up on us. Augustin, unlike myself, as the oldest son had some attention paid to his education. And when Augustin left to be on his wife's estate, she came from a line of common merchant stock, he quite forgot about our family except to visit us. Augustin had a pronounced dislike of me, always slandering me and belittling me. I fear he was jealous over the slight affection my mother had for me, for she had little to do with him. He was even, I think, afraid of her. I think she hated him from the moment he was born, if she didn't ignore him, she would give him presents of curses, slaps and blows. I hunted to keep meat on the table. Augustin's wily, new family desired our family name more than they desired Augustin, or his near starving relatives," Lestat laughed, " Oh, from afar I can pity my wretched father, but now that he is my responsibility, I can not but be impatient with his inability to act, to take care of matters. Yet, what would have I done if I had been him? And it was I who was losing my eyesight? I hope I would have handled things differently. I did not have to bring him here. He only reminds me of unhappy times. But what else could I do?"
"I know it is difficult for you," Louis said simply, looking at his hands, trying not to flinch. In truth he hated the way Lestat would sometimes scream and rant at his dying father. He despised Lestat's utter lack of self control in these instances. After hearing his family history he felt a sympathy for Lestat, but he wondered at Lestat's utter lack of sympathy for others, and at his lack of forgiveness. Now that he was a vampire Louis well was aquatinted with the lightness of life, how easily it could be taken, he wondered at Lestat's disregard for the slow death his father knew was creeping up on him as insidiously as his blindness once did.
"Louis, as I said, putting a roof over my father's head was only part of the reason we are here tonight," Lestat said, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. "The truth is, I want, I want."
"To what?" Louis said, gently prodding him.
"I want to be with you. When I saw you out in the alley in such despair, wanting to die. Wanting anyone to come along and slit your throat, or shoot you, I couldn't allow any cut throat or thief the honor of taking your life," Lestat bantered lightly.
"So you killed me?" Louis said, his eyes widening like a foolish innocent's.
"Oui, because, you're so beautiful," Lestat said softly, not taking his eyes off of him.
"Tell me how did vampires come into being?" Louis said ingeniously as he could, opening his eyes up even further.
"Why as any other being comes to be on the earth," Lestat said swallowing, thinking of Akaska and Emil, how Akasha was possessed by the spirit of Amel, a blood thirsty spirit which transformed her mortal self into what the world calls vampires, He made a vow to Marius who was watching over Emil and Akasha's inanimate bodies he would not tell any one of their whereabouts. Maris warned him if he did he would slay or imprison anyone he told his secret to.
"Louis," he said, now starting to get annoyed, "You've asked me this question before, over and over again. You've used different words, but the words have the same meaning."
Louis dropped the act of seduction, crossings his arms over his chest. His eyes turning into hot, green fires. "And again you become angry with me, defensive," Louis accused.
"You thought I would come up with the answer for you? You would somehow prompt my memory if you batted those green eyes at me?' Lestat smirked. "How unbecoming of you. Vampies continue the race of vampires not through reproduction, but by slavery. Once upon a time in the garden of Eden there was a handsome blond young devil, and he happened to come across an extremely pretty man with soft dark hair," Lestat said, lightly touching Louis' hair, getting his hand viciously slapped for his trouble. "And the blond devil took said man to be his eternal slave, after making him a vampire of course. And that is where my dear Louis little vampires come from."
Slamming his fist right into Lestat's grinning face, Louis yelled, "Don't you ever dare call me a slave, Monsieur de Lion Court!"
"Or you'll what? The evil temper on you!" Lestat half cursed, half laughed, twisting Louis' arm behind his back, giving his arm a hard twist just for good measure, "Why shouldn't I slap your face back for you, monsieur?"
"Slap me, go ahead, I dare you, give me a good excuse to make an attempt on your life!"
"Why not challenge me to a duel if you so baldly desire to murder me?" Lestat taunted Louis, letting him go. Lestat strolled over to the gun case, taking out a dueling pistol, holding it lightly in his hand, pointing it right at Louis' chest.
"Tell me? Are you ready to duel with me?" Lestat said seductively, pulling on the trigger.
Louis fell back gasping, the bullet entered through his skin, he could feel it shattering his heart.
Yvette, and Omphale came running into the den, "Master Louis are you all right?" Yvette cried, trembling. "We heard an explosion."
Lestat laid the smoking pistol on the table. In a low threatening voice he said, "Leave, nothing happened. Do you see a dead body in here?"
"Leave Yvette, leave Omphale, my dear friend here accidentally fired my gun," Louis said in a hushed voice.
Crossing herself fearfully, putting her hand to her gris-gris charm for protection, Yvette left, pulling a frightened Omphale along with her. Omphale's huge black eyes were arrested to the red liquid seeping out from under Louis' hand which was pressed against his chest. Trembling, she allowed Yvette to drag her along.
Once they were alone, Louis removed his hand, the blood gushed out in a rush.
"You empty headed bumpkin," Louis gasped.
"Where is your gratitude?" Lestat said in a mellifluous voice, "Tell me where is your gratitude? You would be dead from such a mortal wound if not for me," Lestat said causally, kneeling before Louis, unbuttoning Louis' shirt, making a ball of it and throwing it over his shoulder. He tickled Louis' abdomen.
"Ah, am I not lucky to be an immortal, oui? I swear cher, your anger alone is enough to kill me where I kneel before you," Lestat said, smartly.
"Why? Do such a reckless deed?" Louis said furiously.
"You would bleed less if you would only drink the blood of humans and leave the blood of animals to other animals."
"So are we human still?"
"Lestat said reflectively. "Non, we are not humans."
"Why not? I say we are. We have been inflected by a type of cancer, a plague. It doesn't make us any less than what were were born to be. I'm still myself no matter what!"
"Are you? Non, you are different, changed. Louis you are no longer human," Lestat said firmly, "I shot you to prove my point. Your skin, hair, your feelings about mortals how can you even ask me if you're still a human being?"
"I feel like mortals are distant from me even when they are merely a couple feet away. Till," Louis whispered.
"Till you focus on one, and a string seems to pull you to him, and you put your arms around him, and nothing in the world seems as real as the mortal in your arms."
"Oui," Louis blushed. "I've taken Yvette in my arms. I know what I want to do, but I stop myself."
"I know these things already as you are learning them," Lestat said gently, "You must give into these desires. You have been unfair to me as I have been unfair to you."
"What do you mean?" Louis asked indifferently, refusing to soften his heart to this arrogant man.
"You and your questions. Where did we come from? What are we? What is our origin? Tell me when you were a mortal man did you honestly for certain know abut these things concerning human beings? Did you have all the answers about the origin of men any more than I have about the origin of vampires?"
"Non," Louis said grudgingly.
"You have asked me the name of my maker, his name is "Dead Man". He has been dead for years. I only knew him for two nights. I prefer not to talk about the past. He taught me less then the little I taught you. If you are searching for me to give you a philosophy or a science explaining our existence, please do not. I exist, you exist simply because we do, and that's enough for me. My understanding seeks to delve no further, for I feel I would only end up grasping on to foolish misconceptions about God, the devil, or unproven, false science and theories which so many of our kind and human kind have cherished to their determent, and to the sufferings of those around them."
"Oui I can see that," Louis said hesitatingly, thinking how religion and scene was used as an excuse to enslave men many felt were made inferior by the nature of evolution or by God. Less and less Louis believed this to be true.
"And why do you feel so violated?" Lestat asked his gray eyes glittering, "when I touch you?" His hand went forward to Louis' thigh. Lestat passed over it, and reached for the pistol, 'Why do you feel so violated when I touch your things?"
"They are not only my things. They are, all of this, belongs to my," Louis lowered his eyes, "my family, and you treat my family with disrespect."
"Why you liar, I have been nothing but courtesy itself to your fetching sister, and your lovely mother. You really mean it belongs to you father," Lestat said, patiently.
"You came here like a thief, you looked though my accounting book as if you were a landlord repossessing my father's resting place. My father rests here Lestat. His body may be in the family crypt, but he, himself, what ever passes for a soul rests here. I swear, his memory does. It wasn't your sweat, your genius which created Pointe du Lac. You treat my father's plantation and his slaves as if they were ripe plums which fell into your hands."
"And fell they did, and I'm draining everything and everyone of their sweet juices," Lestat laughed, "Omphale is a very pretty ripe plum. Strange you have so much outrage over your father's plantation, and not as much outrage for the liberties I have taken with your father's son."
"What do you mean?" Louis said suspiciously.
"Your father's son. You, you beautiful, desirous son. The liberties I take when I can't keep my lips and hands off of you. Who did you think I meant?" Lestat said uneasily. "Did you think I meant Paul?"
"Oui Paul, " Louis said threateningly "Your story is you saw me out in the street, poor pathetic me, a poor soul needing to be ravished, needing the comfort of immortality to make me happy, me, a complete stranger to you. You know my brother's name? How well did you know him?"
"What are you implying? Of course I know your brother's name. You are a sick pathetic fool to make such foolish accusations! Everyone in town talks abut the tragedy of Paul de Pointe du Lac. How his own brother killed him."
"You know I didn't kill Paul," he said hotly.
"How would I know that?" Lestat said coolly.
"Paul was lifted up in the air. I saw him. He was struggling, screaming for help. Something inhuman threw Paul down the stairs if not you than who?"
"You are accusing me of this! I have no idea what tricks your eyes were playing on you that night," Lestat said insulted. "After my father dies," Lestat rubbed at his temple, "Ah, I should leave you. You idiot, you fool. You listen to me, if I left you to your own devises other vampires would seek you out."
"Which of those other vampires killed my brother?" Louis demanded ,"and why?"
"Did you see a vampire kill Paul?" Lestat ridiculed him, "Did you? Non, you saw Paul fall down the stairs. Damn you. I'm going out. Stay here and dwell on your morbid memories of Paul to your empty heart's content."
"Who are you seeing?"
"No one. There are no vampires here aside from you and I," Lestay exploded nervously, putting his fist in Louis' face. "Stay here, or I will beat you within an inch of your miserable life. I will not have you ever leaving Pointe du Lac without my protection."
"Protection! From whom are you protecting me from?" Louis cried.
"From your own foolish inexperience!" Lestat roared, "Knowing you, you will be staring at some candle or at some bitch's pretty buttons, allowing yourself to be burned by the sun before you even realize you are being burned alive."
"I no longer stare at buttons! I've become accustomed to how my vampire eyes causes common things which once I over looked to now become objects of peerless beauty. Monsieur, you insist on implying I chose to live rather than die so I could enter into an alliance with you," Louis said coolly," Understand this will never happen between us. I mistrust your motives, your actions in all of this! And if I had an inking of the truth about Paul's death, and I felt for sure you are involved, I would find the strength to drag you out of your coffin, and let you be burned along with me by the sun's rays! As it is I know nothing. Confess to me, and I swear I will be merciful. I will only give you the beating you so richly deserve before I throw you out of my life which you insist on intruding upon!"
"Why did you agree to become a vampire?" Lestat said coldly, "Out of pure cowardliness? Pure self preservation?"
Getting up out of his chair, Louis deliberately swayed his hips giving Lestat the gift of seeing his most seductive walk. Lestat followed him to the oratory.
Louis stood before Paul's crucifix. He lit a candle. The soft light kissed the cobwebs and dust in the corners and made the wooden man's flesh on the cross take on a human like hue. Louis' coffin was off to the side. Louis refused Lestat's order to sleep in the bedroom along with him. Louis stretched his arms out. "I do this at times," Louis said in a low voice, "I do this because I want to understand what Paul was thinking of. Why he was doing this to himself. I want to hear the voices he talked to. I thought if I became one such as you I would have the power to be able to hear those voices. I even had a vision of Paul the night you created me. But, it couldn't have been a true vision. The type saints talk about when they receive visitations from Christ or Mary. It had to be a trick of my mind. Because my brother's so called ghost could not say a word to me! I thought I would be able to understand the supernatural. I would be able to believe in my brother being one of those few touched by God to be a saint. If only I could hear the voices Paul heard I might be able to understand the true circumstances of Paul's life and his death."
"There were no such voices. Paul only heard what his ill head made up for him to hear."
Louis shook his head, his arms falling to his sides. "How are you so sure of that! Why will you not allow me to leave Pointe du Lac? What kind of danger am I in? What is it you're afraid of? My finding something out?"
"I'm going into town to get good and drunk on as many bitches' and drunkard's blood as I can find! You infuriate me with your cheap, cruel accusations," Lestat raged "Where are you going?"
"To dine," Louis said flippantly.
"Where are you going to dine at!" Lestat said, following him to the stable.
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