Lestat couldn’t help but stare at the painting again. The man’s face, those
eyes …it was as though he knew them, yet he couldn’t place how. “He seems
so sad.”
Black Cat nodded. “His brother died tragically, and after that travesty he
was never the same. His mother died soon after and his sister, married to a
brute in some far away kingdom, was unable to keep in touch.” He turned to
meet
Lestat’s smoky gaze. “Young Louis grew very lonely. He fell into a pit of
despair from which he never was able to emerge.”
“Louis.” Lestat said the name softly, testing the way it sounded. The name
had a velveteen quality as it flowed off his tongue. “I’m surprised I never
heard of him, since my own kingdom is not so very far away. I wonder whom his
sister married. But, you must have known him. Were you his pet, Black Cat?”
Black Cat closed his eyes as though weary. “Something like that. But come,
we must see to your wounds.”
Lestat shrugged, allowing the change of subject with some reluctance. There
was a mystery surrounding that portrait, he just knew it. If there was one
thing Lestat loved, it was a bit of a mystery to solve. Even as he turned away
from the painting, he could feel those green eyes boring into his back, as
though silently pleading that the mystery be revealed and put to rest.
Something about the entire castle was strange, invisible servants and talking
cat
aside. The very atmosphere spoke of witchcraft or a curse.
It was at that precise moment that Lestat remembered the dagger, and the way
the wolves had retreated at the mere sight of it. “Black Cat, I have a
question. That dagger you gave me—“
“Was designed to aid in your quest and offer protection, as I told you.”
Lestat nodded. “Yes, but the wolves. The wolves that seemed sent by some
unnatural force to hunt me down. They were terrified of it!”
At that, Black Cat stopped in his tracks, turning to face Lestat wide
slitted green eyes. “Terrified of the dagger?” He sat on his haunches, tail
twitching furiously. “Then they were indeed sent by a dark force.” He looked
at
Lestat closely before seeming to come to a silent resolution. “Very well. You
may tell me more in my chamber.”
The young marquis’ son followed Black Cat further down the long stone
hallway until they came to a winding stone staircase. There were no windows
here,
the only light cast from a few sparse candelabras mounted into the wall. “
Follow me,” Black Cat purred. “And watch your step. I haven’t entertained a
mortal in my quarters in years and, as my vision is so acute, there was little
need for an abundance of light. It hurts my eyes.”
“I see.” Said Lestat, and he followed silently, one hand upon the rounded
wall for support as they mounted the winding stone stairs that led to a tower
chamber. At the head of the stairs was a large wooden door that was propped
open with a piece of kindling. Lestat did not need to question this, for how
could a simple cat be expected to open such a heavy door on his own?
Inside, the room was a picture of opulence gone to disarray. The sumptuous
bed was dusty and unused. The armoire, a fine piece of furniture with detailed
carvings depicting the Expulsion from Eden, was in desperate need of polish.
The roaring fireplace cast the majority of light, but a few candelabras were
lit here and there, giving the room a rather ghostly quality. “Don’t be
afraid, Lestat. There is nothing that can harm you in this room, or in any
room
of my castle.”
Lestat nodded, looking about the room with avid curiosity. He still limped a
little, but he paid the dull ache no mind as he moved toward an abandoned
writing table. Dusty books were everywhere, and laying upon the table was an
open ledger signed by a Monsieur Louis de Pointe du Lac. “This room, it
belonged to Louis.”
“Yes,” answered Black Cat. “But come away from there. Let me see how your
wounds are faring.”
Lestat plopped down miserably on the bed with peaked curiosity. “What is it
about Louis that you do not wish me to know? And the dagger, what has it to
do with any of this? Those wolves seemed afraid of the thing when only moments
ago they were confident about killing me. It makes no sense unless you’re
some sort of wizard.”
Black Cat chuckled, his tiny mouth tightly grasping a roll of bandages. He
dropped them at Lestat’s side then wiped his mouth with one sleek paw. “If I
were a wizard, would I appear in the form of a simple cat?”
Lestat had begun unwrapping his wounded thigh, wincing a little as fresh air
hit the wound. “Then what’s the secret? I knew from the first that this
castle was bewitched, but if you are somehow in league with those who wish me
dead, I’d prefer you tell me.”
Black Cat shook his head, beginning to wipe at his whiskers. “If I was a
wizard and wanted you dead, wouldn’t you be done for already? I assure you
that
I am nothing if not your ally.” He licked his whiskers. “Doesn’t the fact
that
