(http://digitalmidnight.simplenet.com/archive/sosindex.html) by Lady Black Death, ©1995 [EMAIL PROTECTED] PC POLICE STANDARD WARNING: this spec contains language some may find offensive as well as spoilers to most if not all the Vampire Chronicles. OFFICIAL STATEMENT: This is a non-profit, amateur effort and does not intend to infringe upon the rights of Random House/Knopf, Epic, Lestat de Lioncourt, Howard O'Brian or any other copyright holders which I may be unaware of. "On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?" ____________________________________ Well, look who's back. The Vampire Lestat here. That charming blond haired, gray-eyed rogue from the novels and record stores, and lately, the movies. Did you think I had gone for good? Never. Like evil, I am eternal. And I have had quite enough of my position as a character in the stories of others. Back to center stage, where I belong. Not to say that Laura did not do an admirable job of recording the tale, in a time when I truly had no stomach for it. But enough. For good or ill, I'm back. Actually, there's not much more to tell. But I felt that as I was the one to begin this little epic, I should finish it. Let you know what I'm thinking, that sort of thing. Though there are some things I will not tell. Not even to you. I remember my last real discussion with Louis in my study. When he told me that he needed rest. Some things are just too... personal. Not to me, but to him. It was a private conversation between us, and I'm sure he'd prefer it remain that way. Oh, how I miss Louis! More than you might appreciate. After all, how long have you known your friends, your family? Ten years? Twenty? Fifty? Louis and I physically lived together for nearly seventy years, and have known of each other for over two hundred. The thought that I will not see him again until the middle of the next century constantly devils me. The image which replays itself in my mind is not what you might think. If I were you, reading me, I would assume that a night of breathless passion would be foremost in my memories of him. Well, you're close. Those images are never far from my thoughts. But my favorite recollection is a simpler image. Laura is crazed for the music of Giorgio Moroder. There was a time when she played the soundtrack to Flashdance every night for a solid month. I enjoyed the music, which came as no surprise. That Louis loved it shocked us both. One evening Laura was, as usual, playing the soundtrack. The love song "Lady" came on. And out of the blue Louis swept her into his arms and danced with her. He is graceful even at his worst. Dancing with Laura to that hypnotic music... I can't remember a time he was more beautiful. That was right after Laura's creation. Before my trip to White Sands. Ah, that seems like eons ago. Forgive me. My mind strays these days. In any event, if you know me from my books, I'll bet you can guess what I was thinking in the weeks immediately following Louis' departure. With him gone, Laura in a fairly fragile mental state due to the incident with Carolyn, and Malcolm before that, I was left to pick up the pieces of our life. This is not exactly my strength. So I turned to my first love for help - to lose myself in her heady embrace. Laura and I were walking on the beach near Louis' resting place. We never went to the spot itself, preferring instead to look down upon it from a great distance. We felt safer that way. But we were often in the area, drawn like moths to the memory of his gentle flame. I knew if we didn't get out of there soon we (or at least I) would go crazy. "I was thinking of a suggestion Louis made." I said at length, listening to the songs of the night birds over the water. "Perhaps we should travel." "I promised to watch over him!" she protested at once. "As did I, cherie." I chided gently. "But there is a difference between watching and hovering. In the beginning he'll lapse into a dream state, but will still be aware of his surroundings to some extent. If we are constantly hovering, I think, it will distract him from sleeping." She digested this information. "Well, where did you have in mind?" she finally asked. "I thought, perhaps a tour." My casual tone tipped her off, and she looked at me suspiciously. "Tour of what?" "Oh, I don't know. America, Europe, Asia perhaps. It depends on how well we do." "How well who does?" she frowned. "The new band." "What new band?" I grinned at her sideways. "My new band." Her complete shock was a delight to watch. No, she never saw that one coming. Her jaw dropped. "You're going to do another CD?" "I've been thinking about it. It will keep us busy, give us something to do for a while. Louis would have hated it - all the noise and crowds. But you, ma cher, will positively thrive in the environment." "ME? Wait a second..." "Before you protest, remember, this was Louis' idea." Oh, my smile was infernal. "He even helped me pick the name for the new group." "What?" Rather than answer her, I pulled a folded sheet of thick, glossy paper from my back pocket. My latest effort, working in tandem with a graphic artist. It blazed royal purple and gold. She scanned the paper quickly then looked up at me. "You're kidding." I wasn't kidding. And so it began all over again, seeking out a band, rehearsing, recording, filming new videos. But this time, rather than the obsessive secrecy I adhered to before, we started leaking to the press. "Remember the Vampire Lestat? He wasn't killed. He's back. There's a new CD coming - a new book too. Tell your friends." Pandemonium. The book was one of the most anticipated of the season - the CD cracked the charts in the top one hundred and within weeks hit number one. Concerts sold out the same week it was released. The winking, tongue-in-cheek explanation of where I've been all these years seems to have worked better than any sober tale. "I blew up San Francisco then decided to write a few more books. What, don't you read? Don't worry about it. I'm back now." A goodly number of the fans write that they will attend, in part, to see if anything else will blow up. The city fathers of the cities we have booked have made it a point of asking, politely, that we don't. I'll do my best. But I promise nothing. We're in Philadelphia right now, after opening in New York last week. After this it's down the east coast, across the country, wrapping up in Los Angeles. From there, should we choose, it's Europe, then Japan. Laura, as I anticipated, has taken to the rock 'n roll lifestyle with a vengeance. She is on stage for almost the entire concert, and even has two solo efforts. She has a genius for dealing with the mortals who flock to our banner, speaking to them with a wicked mixture of charm and feral danger which has made her the darling of the tour. Which is not to say I don't worry about her. Her feeding habits have altered radically since leaving New Orleans. Where before she would stalk the criminal element (or at least those she found unbearably obnoxious) she has now developed a taste for alcoholics. She'll often stumble in after feeding so drunk she's not able to focus. It never lasts long, which annoys her to no end. I remember the night this started. We had been in rehearsal, and her nerves were stretched thin. I attributed it to pre-concert jitters, but she assured me it was more than that. "So what, then? It's a bit late in the game to blame PMS!" "It's Marius!" I was temporarily stunned. "Marius? What has he to do with anything?" "He's stalking us. I can feel him. I can feel his disapproval in every move we make!" "You're paranoid." "I only wish! I've never even thought of him until now. Except..." "Except when?" I looked at her, surprised. "You called Marius?" "When you were in White Sands. I called him for help." She snorted. "Fat lot of good it did. He never answered." "What is it about Marius that bothers you so?" I demanded. "You've never even met him!" "He who would take it upon himself to be our teacher? The conscience for an entire race? Who does he think he is, to judge us or our actions?" She slammed her hand on the piano in frustration, causing it to echo dully. "Thank you, but I'll judge myself." "He's a good man, Laura." I insisted. "He had good reasons to keep the secrets he did." "He has his own reasons for everything he does." She snapped back. "They are not necessarily good." She stilled suddenly, holding her hand up for silence. I watched as she suddenly shivered, paling noticeably under the harsh neon light. "He's here." She said heavily. The tidal wave of power which always accompanied Marius flooded the room. Then a flash of red glided from the shadows. "You have a perceptive fledgling, Lestat." Ah, that voice! It coated us, flowed over us like honey. And as he came forward, into the light, it was as though I had been struck. His beauty was so immense - it was paralyzing. Stupefying. Wholly unreal, this ethereal being before us. I felt as though I looked upon the physical countenance of almighty God. I wonder if Marius gets bored with that reaction? It happens every time I see him. My first instinct was to embrace him at once, but I held back. After all, I had not seen him since my trial with Raglan James. Much had happened since then. And the hostile vibrations pouring from Laura were so strong even I could feel them. He was dressed casually, red shirt and jeans, comfortable looking tennis shoes. Even so, the aura of power emanating from him dazzled those around us, much to Laura's disgust. "Why are you here?" she asked at once. "I'm sure it's not to compliment me." "I came as soon as I heard." "We're not stopping. Get that idea out of your head. The contracts are signed, the tour booked. And who are you anyway to tell us..." "I came as soon as I heard about _Louis_." His gentle smile irritated her all the more, I could tell. Marius turned to me, holding out his hand. "Lestat, are you all right? Is there anything I can do? "No." I sighed deeply. "He felt the need to do this very strongly. He needed the rest, and I can't really blame him." To Laura's intense discomfort (and my secret amusement) Marius stayed until the first concert in New York, seeming to enjoy it tremendously. His was the last face I saw before the house lights came crashing down. Then the recorded sound of a human heartbeat pulsed through the Garden, growing louder and louder until the fans screamed in time with it - chanting my name to the beat of a heart. Once more I felt the giddy rush of excitement and pure emotion as the stage lights came up, dark purple highlighting the smoke which billowed from a dozen machines. Then a single spotlight caught the banner which had unfurled in the darkness. The fans screamed their appreciation, chanting along with the light. "By the pricking of my thumbs, SOMETHING WICKED this way comes!" Shakespeare is timeless. I've written new music, of course. "Forever", the most popular of the videos, is a good example. I wrote the ballad for Louis, just before Laura met Malcolm in Miami. It's really quite touching to watch the fans weep as I sing it. I will love you all my days I'll love you in many ways, Child of my heart, Companion of my soul, Friend - Forever We have the obligatory "Life is hard while touring" song, along with the req uisite "tale of woe" song popularized by country and western styles. And the fans have not forgotten the old songs - the ones I at one time swore I'd never sing again. We perform some of them too. But I have also adopted the rock 'n roll time honored tradition of the "cover version". There are some songs out there which are simply too good to pass by. EMI has obligingly provided a smattering of Motley Crue. Thanks to the good (and easily swayed) folk at Epic I now perform three songs by the colorfully named Meat Loaf. I feel "Sympathy for the Devil" was written especially for me. And when the trumpets kick in for "You Can Leave Your Hat On" (suggested by Laura, who adores the song) the paramedics are always called to attend those fainting in the aisles. Laura assures me this would happen less if I left my shirt on for the song, rather than stripping it off as I sing. What does she know? The final encore is mine alone. I didn't write this song only because when I heard "For Crying Out Loud" I knew it was what I would have written anyway. My ego isn't above a little theft! Just me, the piano, and a single spotlight. Seated, I begin to play, singing softly. "I was lost till you were found, but I never knew how far down I was falling, before I reached the bottom." And as I sing I think of Louis, his eyes, his smile, the way he had of making everything right with just a glance or a gesture. I have yet to perform my encore without weeping. In the middle of the song I abandon atmosphere for raw power, and suddenly I sing for Laura, my future. I sing of love, and it becomes a ballad of hope. For overall, love is what it's all about. This I've learned, and have finally taken the lesson to heart. I do love. I'm not afraid. In fact, I quite like it. And so, to my readers, my fans, my dear friends who in some way have chosen to walk the Devil's Road with me a few steps, I thank you. And, as they say, the story will continue. We go on. We always do. Author's note: For those of you who may be curious regarding "Forever", the initial song Lestat released as a music video (the same one which was continuously interrupted in Blink of an Eye), it was based on "Believe" by Elton John. Very powerful song, very dark, lots of keyboard. Something I imagine Lestat would write. His concert music is loosely based on "Bat Out Of Hell" (the first one) by Meat Loaf.
