given to fly A Vampire Chronicles story by _Twi_ (mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]) , February 1998. Number five in the "Le Coeur" series; sequel to _"One More Time."_ (http://blood.less.as/hearts/one.html) Rated PG. Dark, dark, dark. I always thought I had understood the dark, but now that my existence was a black attic, the rattle and click of cold chains binding me in my weakness, I knew that my life had been spent in light. And though it is always said that monsters live in the shadows, that light kills the demons, it seemed that it would be the shadows that claimed me, or at least my sanity, finally, when the sun could not. The dark of my loneliness would be my undoing. Louis used to come visit me, sometimes. He would read to me, humor me. He'd stay an hour, maybe two, and kiss my cold cheek with cold lips by way of goodbye and apology before leaving me alone again. And then he stopped coming altogether, and I was left to rot, forgotten. Perhaps left to think over my actions, but what was there to think about? I had been a fool. I had brought this on myself. I felt a presence. Not a vampire, I somehow knew. The mind was completely shut to me, and all I could feel from it were little ice-bright shivers of power glinting from it. And my sense of smell has, of late, grown so keen that I can tell my kind by scent, the faint aroma of death and the grave clinging to their preternatural flesh. This one was vibrant, alive. And yet it couldn't be a mortal, could it? The steps on the stairs were too soft, quiet enough so that I had to strain to hear. I saw a gentle ray of light, blinding to my eyes, wending its way up the stairs, but I still couldn't see where it was coming from - a candle? A lamp? - or who was holding it. I could smell his blood, suddenly. A hot wave of salt and heat and lust beating beneath his skin, through the veins and arteries and the chambers of the heart. His heartbeat seemed deafening in the silence. I felt the bloodlust, until recently alternately hibernating and dully nagging, come fully to life, stoking a small, but steadily growing, flame within me. I wanted him. I wanted to drown myself in his life and his taste, this hapless mortal who had wandered into my chained spiderweb. I will not take a human life... "If it makes you feel any better," a melodic voice said softly, "I'm not human, and you can't take my life." I could see his face now, right in front of me, gazing down with a wistful smile. Brilliant eyes, the left royal purple, like a chunk of dark amethyst, and the right a teal blue brighter than the sky, both framed in lush black lashes and neatly arched gray brows. Small, slightly upturned nose. Elegant cheekbones. A plump red mouth, the lips swollen and flushed, as though he has just been kissed. Soft, soft white hair tumbling down, a frozen lock falling into his violet eye, surrounding his paler-than-pale face. I knew it would be silk under my fingers if I could touch it. From what I could make out of the rest of him, he was slender, dressed in a white v-neck t-shirt and white leggings, and some kind of white boots. Angelically beautiful, this one was. I finally realised that the glow had not been coming from a candle. It had been coming from him. Not human... "He sent you here," I heard myself say desperately, "he sent you to torment me." "Not exactly." He leaned back against the opposite wall, watching me struggle in my bonds. "Who are you?" I felt the fear and rage, the delirium, surging up to claim me. "If you would stop hyperventilating, I could tell you." "A demon. A demon to collect me..." "No, Lestat." He was patient. "What was it your Louis said in his book, about men who cannot believe in God or in goodness but still believe in the Devil?" "Lies, lies..." "Are you quite done yet? If you would just calm down, I could let you out of there, and we could have a talk. It's all just chemical reactions in your brain, you know. If you would see me with your heart and not your mind, we would be getting along splendidly right now." "Brains," I said feverishly. "Don't talk to me about brains. I had a dream last night...day...night...whatever. There was a little girl sitting on a table, surrounded by doctors, and her head completely surrounded by tubing and wires. And one of the doctors gave her a tube, and told her to suck on it, and something lovely would come out, like jello. And I realised that the other end of the tube was connected to her brain, and the miles of tubing were there so that she would not realise that there was something dreadfully wrong until her head was half empty, and by then she might not care. They were making her drink her own brain. What kind of chemical reaction is that?" "A rather gross one. Thanks for sharing. I thought my dreams were weird." "Do demons dream?" "'All the seeming of a demon that is dreaming...' I'm not a demon, but yes, I dream. Or, that is to say, I appear in the dreams of others, and I visit the Land of Dreams sometimes, to speak with the Lord of the Dreaming." A small blush crossed his face as he mentioned this. "But I could ask him to give you nicer dreams, if you want." "But you are a demon. I served Memnoch. I'm his prince now. What would God want with me?" "Oh, for Goddess' sake, Lestat! I'm not part of that drug-induced hallucination of yours!" His voice softened a bit, making it hard to remember the frustration in his eyes a moment before. "Think about it. Would I have offered to free you if I were a demon?" "How should I know? The whims of demons and angels are beyond my understanding, it would seem." A light of approval crept into his eyes. "Ah. Good. You're speaking rationally now, or as close to rationality as you could ever get." The blue eye closed and reopened in a flashing wink, and I realised he was teasing me. "Are you calm now?" "I..." Something cool and fluid flowed into my veins, soothing the hot fear, the madness, as I gazed into his eyes. "I think so." "Good." And with a sudden clash, the chains fell from around my wrists, my body, falling empty around me. He held out a hand. "Come on, get up and we'll have a stroll. 'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, along the briny beach...'" "We aren't near any beaches," I said, feeling strange. "Well, no. But I love showing off my quote-spewing abilities every now and then...you know how it is." A small grin, and then he bent close to me and offered his hand again. "Are you going to get up?" I reflexively tried to push myself up off the floor alone, not wanting to admit to this beautiful man that I needed his help, but my muscles were so unused to any movement beyond feeble struggles that I knew it was useless. I took his hand, the skin burning hot against the chill of my fingers, and he lifted me up easily, with surprising strength for someone as seemingly frail as he. I found myself slowly tipping off-balance, like a tree being given the last whack with an axe, and he caught me, hands grasping my shoulders, steadying me. I caught myself gazing into his eyes, speechlessly. "There, you're alright." One of the slender hands came up to smooth the hair back from my forehead, lingering, as though feeling for a fever. "You're alright." "Before I go anywhere with you," I said, my voice feeling thick and husky in my throat, "I need to know two things." "By all means. Thing number one?" "Who are you?" A small, secretive smile crossed his face. "My current name, the one I've been using a while, is Jessamy. Jessamy Draven. But that's not very helpful at all, is it? Ask the other question." "What are you?" "Ah, that's better. Much better. But I'd really rather you figured it out on your own...it always seems to work better that way, though I honestly have no idea why. Your clue: I'm not human, not vampire, not immortal, or at least not the kind of immortal you're probably thinking of, and definitely not a demon. Though, actually, if demons existed, I would have more in common with them than I do with any of the other beings on the list." This was slightly irritating. "That's not very helpful. And I still don't see why I should believe you." He grinned. "Oh, but it is. Think about it. I'm clearly not human, since I couldn't do the chains-falling-off bit if I was. So that's out. So is the immortal thing. And I managed to sneak down here without you, or anybody else, reading my mind. If I were another vampire, that would probably not work, not against Maharet. And I'm really not a demon. So all of those are out the window. How many other humanoid creatures do you know of?" "Aliens?" "Eh, that wasn't what I was looking for. Another hint would be for me to point out the fact that I'm glowing." And the glow subtly outlining him brightened, centering and intensifying around his head, a flaming halo. A halo... "You're an angel?" "Sad but true. In a sense. You're safe with me." "But why -" "Because you need my help, you twit! That's my job. I help people." "I don't need your help," I said, a bit peevishly. "No man is a world unto himself," he said gently. "Besides, you couldn't even get yourself out of those chains. Nevermind the incoherent babbling. You need some help, and I'm it." I put a hand to my forehead. "I'm doomed," I said melodramatically. He grinned. "Thanks a lot. Your faith in me is overwhelming." I sighed. "I suppose I have to take that walk with you, then?" "You don't have to," he said, gently taking my hand. "But I would like to talk to you, and I don't generally find stuffy attics to be conductive to conversation." We moved silently down the stairs and out of the church. The pale light of the moon was almost blinding to my eyes, so accustomed to the dark were they. Everywhere I looked there was light...the streetlamps, the neon signs, the porchlights of the houses. And the soft glow from my companion, whose light had gone from a radiant candle in the dark to the barest ice-blue reflection of moonlight. As a roving mortal passed by without so much as a glance in our direction, I felt a question spark. "Why isn't anybody noticing your...glow? Or that we're holding hands, for that matter?" "Because it's best that we're left in peace tonight. Honestly, Lestat, you didn't think you were the only one with the 'razzle- dazzle,' did you?" "Of course not," I said. "But I'm the only one I know who would use it for something so...'trivial,' as Maharet would call it." "Well, for one thing, I'm not concerned with Maharet at the moment; I'm talking to you. But this isn't trivial. If somebody were to see our hands, we might have to deal with a gay-bashing, and while I'm sure you'd love the nourishment, we need to talk. And as for the glow...well, nevermind what could happen if some unsuspecting mortal came across a glowing man walking down the street. You can surely guess." He lifted his free hand to his face to brush back his long hair. "I try to keep it from everyone, really, but I've always been terrible at hiding it from your kind. I can hide certain other things, but not the shine." "'My kind'? You mean, you've met other vampires?" "Of course I have, Lestat. Before you ask, no, nobody you know. Yet. At least, I don't think so." "You're not sure? I thought you knew everything." He gave me a look. "Don't be like that. The reason I'm not sure is not that I don't know if I've met anyone you know ever, but that I don't know if I've met them yet. Time isn't as linear for me as it is for you, so occasionally things get confusing. Does that clear it up?" A light rain started to fall, pattering gently against the sidewalk, and a drop slid down my face like a tear. "So...you talk to people. You tell them things. What?" "Oh, you know, about life, the universe, and everything. Just about the world in general." The rain shone in his hair like dew, and he shook it back away from his face before he went on. "What would you like to talk about?" I shrugged. "I don't know." "Well, the honesty is refreshing, at least. Let me think...well, we could always discuss you." I raised an eyebrow at this. "Me?" He grinned. "Yes, you. What have you been doing with yourself? From what I've seen, you've been having strange fantasies involving God and the Devil, as well as a fixation on a young woman who cares nothing for you. Your obsession with her is only distancing you from Louis, who truly does love you. You see why I told you you needed help?" I moved with lightning quickness, my hand coming up to slap him, but he caught my wrist easily. "It isn't true," I hissed. "You know it is, Lestat." He gazed up into my eyes, fingers twining with mine, as the rain made a shining curtain between us. "You know." I looked away. "Okay, so maybe it is. What of it?" I jerked my hand away from his and resumed walking, trying to keep the wounded tone out of my voice. He took my hand, walking by my side as before. "I'm sorry. The truth hurts sometimes." "So what am I supposed to do? Louis still thinks I'm chained up in a basement." "You talk to him, of course. And watch that temper of yours." "I wouldn't..." "I know you. You would. You have." He smiled almost sadly. "Be gentle with him, Lestat. His heart is much more fragile than he would like to admit. He is like you, in that respect." He led me down a street that was looking increasingly familiar. "You've already broken it once, if not twice or thrice or a dozen times ...why do you think he spoke so bitterly of you in his interview? Be careful, this time. He loves you. He wants to forgive you. And he can't let himself if you continue to mistreat him." I looked around at my surroundings, pulling myself out of a reverie. "You're taking me to Rue Royale." "Yes." "Why?" "To talk to Louis, of course." He smiled, and I could read his expression: Duh, Lestat, as the kids these days would say. "But why now?" "Why not now? Everyday you put off telling him how you feel is one more day of misery for him. You're really all he has, poor thing." He shrugged. "I don't know why he dotes on you so, but it's his decision, not mine. He comes to see you as long as he can bear, because it hurts him to see you torturing yourself, hardly noticing his presence, lost in your daydreams." "I noticed his presence," I whispered. "But he doesn't know that," he said. I saw the house looming ahead, and I could make out a figure in a front window, pacing. "You have to tell him yourself." I stood on the sidewalk, eyes tracking the silhouette as it slowly moved across the sitting room. "I don't know if I can." Jessamy took my hands. "I know you're bad at showing your feelings, especially to those you love. But please try, for his sake." I took the step through the gate, each inch of the ground dragging at me, telling me to go back. Before it's too late. I could feel a hot breath across my ear, lips brushing against me, and I heard Jessamy's voice: "Knock 'em dead, Wolfkiller." I turned, and he was gone. I walked up to the porch and rang the bell. (http://star.less.as/) ************************************** Get a sneak peek of the all-new AOL at http://discover.aol.com/memed/aolcom30tour
