this is such a great piece of work, i just Love Dark Angel's fics! =)) Is her
email still working?
[EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: DISCLAIMER: This work of
speculative fiction uses characters created and owned by Anne Rice. No
infringement upon her rights nor the rights of any other individual or
corporation with legal claim to the Vampire Chronicles is intended. SPOILERS:
MtD Dedication: To the love that stays. For richer, for poorer, in sickness
and in health, through attacks, insensitivities and insults, till Death do us
part. Things have to get better, if not in this world, then in the next. This
story was inspired by the quote from QotD below, and also the following
statement which can be attributed to a doctor whose name I forget, that
appeared on one of those morning shows. (Sorry, whoever you are, please don't
sue me) "When a parent becomes very ill, especially if the parent is
bedridden, the child will be confused and frightened. He or she will cope with
these overwhelming emotions by acting out, often becoming violent, moody or
uncharacteristically irritable. But the child is not being difficult just for
the sake of being difficult, though it often seems that way."
by DarkAngel
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
20 mai 1999
"Gabrielle was walking in that careless, straight-backed, unstoppable way of
hers, . . .and there was Louis beside her, struggling gracefully to keep up. .
. Out of his league with her, and does she know it? Will she take care of him?"
- Queen of the Damned
I rise and feed Mojo. Since the dog door was installed, I need not let him in
or out, he comes and goes as he pleases. He is in when I come downstairs. I pet
him for a few minutes before I leave to be with Lestat. I do not even pay
attention to the streets anymore. My feet know their path. As I near the old
orphanage, I can hear the very young ones, murmuring and shuffling. I dislike
them. They have no business here. They come to gawk at Lestat. I know what they
really want. They want to drink his blood, steal his power. They gather in
gangs. We admit them because once they see what they came to see they leave.
When at first we refused to admit them, they practically laid siege to the
orphanage, more and more of them every night, hovering, waiting, menacing.
There were far too many in New Orleans. They were feeding too close together.
We had to do something to avoid calamity. We finally allowed them admittance so
that they would disperse. So now they file through the
chapel. They look and they leave. Sometimes they shout at Lestat, as if this
would rouse him. I loathe them. I slip into Saint Elizabeth's by a door in
the back, near an old grotto of the Blessed Virgin. I garner no notice. Some of
the others are here. Those who are older, who survived the holocaust. I do not
despise them so much, though they have no business here either. At least they
are considerate. They come quietly and they go quietly. But they worry me,
all of them. What are they thinking? What if they should all rush at Lestat at
once and sink their fangs in? How quickly could they drain him? More quickly
than we could pull them away? Would that kill Lestat? Will anything kill him
now? I make my way into the chapel. Gabrielle is there already, sitting in
her customary place on the floor across from Lestat. David is at the chapel
door. I nod at him and smile. He smiles back. "Louis," he says. "I am glad to
see you." "Thank you, David. How are you this
evening?" "The same," he looks toward Lestat. "We are all the same." I
nod. "But I have heard something odd that you might want to know." "What?"
I ask. I am only being polite, I do not really care. All that I want to hear is
that Lestat is back to his old self, and that is obviously not so. "There are
rumours going about that Armand has been seen in New York." This does get my
attention. I stare at him, wide-eyed. "Armand? How can that be?" "I don't
know." "How badly is he hurt? Do they say?" "They say he isn't hurt at all.
He is whole and beautiful as he always was." "But surely his skin is burnt
black," I say. "They say not." David shrugs. I sigh. "These are false
rumors, David, wishful thinking. Pay no attention." "Perhaps," he tells me.
But I think he believes it. I make my way to the corner. I can see Lestat
full well from there, and no one bothers me. I think of it as 'my' corner,
though it really is not of course. Lestat looks the same
as always, like a statue. We have not combed his hair, changed his clothes,
nor even rolled him over because he will not let anyone near him. I do not
change my clothes nor comb my hair either. I always did before, when he was
aware, albeit in chains. But since he came to lie on the chapel floor I do not.
I know that he does not see me and I do not care to bother with such things. I
do not even think about it usually. I only think of it now because one of the
others says that he looks unkempt. They are older, these others. From some
exotic place, by their clothing. They speak of the books. They speak of me. I
close my mind to them, but I know that they know I am me. But they do not look
at me and for that I am grateful. The young ones, they bring the books with
them. They argue points and perspectives. They try to correlate the books,
trying to discover 'the truth', as if there is one. Some call me a liar. Some
say the same of Lestat. I think I am safe in my
anonymity. I do not think that they will even notice the vampire in the
corner, much less recognize me. But I am wrong. "Are you the vampire Louis?"
I look up. It is one of the young ones. Made with holes in it's ears, nose,
eyebrows, and I shudder to think where else, holes which now will never heal.
Perhaps two years it has been on the Devil's Road. Perhaps less. There are
others with it, a gang of eight or so. The polite thing to do would be to stand
and acknowledge them, but I do not know that they deserve any such courtesy. I
am wary of them. I want them to go away. "Why do you ask?" "French accent,"
one in the back whispers to another, as if I cannot hear them. "You are very
beautiful," the pierced one says. Flattery. I hate flattery. I continue to
stare at it. Another comes from behind it and puts a hand on the young one's
shoulder. This one wears a shirt and tie, as if it were just coming home from a
long day in the offices of Hibernia Bank. They should
all wear sackcloth and ashes and lie prostrate at the door of the orphanage
for three nights and then, humbly, beg entrance. And I would still turn them
away, vultures that they are. Jackals and wolves which smell the blood of the
wounded and come to finish it off. The one with the tie speaks to me. "We
have read your book." Should that impress me? So have two million others. I
bet you moved your lips too. I do not answer. "We want to talk to you," says
the banker, sitting before me, uninvited. I do not know when respect for
one's elders died out as a concept, but the world is worse for it. "I have
nothing to tell you." The others sit down now as well, as if my speaking at
all gave them some sort of permission, regardless of what I said. One of the
vermin whispers to another, "Look at his eyes." "Green flames in a skull," is
the whispered reply. Idiots. They make me self-conscious. They all sit
cross-legged in a semi-circle around me. I feel like Christ
with his disciples. 'My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have
made it a den of thieves.' "Did you lie to Daniel about seeing Lestat in the
1970s?" asks a whelp from my left. I am shocked. By what right are they
entitled to ask me such a thing? By whose leave do they soil these names,
Daniel and Lestat, in their filthy mouths? It angers me. "You have seen what
you came to see. why do you not leave?" "We cam for many reasons. It is the
one with the tie speaking up again. I do not answer him. "Why does Lestat
deny making the musician a vampire, and also the other one whom you followed to
him in New Orleans?" The voice is squeaky and irritating, as is it's owner, a
half dressed girl with well-chewed fingernails. "They were not made by
Lestat," I hiss at it. How dare it question Lestat in his own home? "Who made
them?" it asks. "Who made you?" I turn my full gaze on it. It cringes. I am
glad. "He did." It points to the one with the tie. "I
made them all," that one says proudly, as if it is an accomplishment. "I am
Anson Leo and this is my coven." I look around at them now. Slowly and
deliberately, not even attempting to mask my disgust. This Anson Leo could not
have been made more than fifteen years ago. Seven fledglings in fifteen years?
Did it ever occur to you to keep your fangs in your mouth? "You came for the
blood," I state. "Yeah," says one. Several others nod and smile. I look to
Leo. "You intend to lead your coven in a rape attack upon Lestat de Lioncourt
while he is lying catatonic and helpless." Leo gives me an oily smile, as if
I am exaggerating and he is humoring me. "I wouldn't say that, Misshure."
Misshure? You would not be attempting to pronounce monsieur, would you? If one
does not speak French, once should not try to use French words. I should kill
it just for that alone. Cretin. Imbecile. Kaintock. I envision myself grabbing
this scum and pulling its head from its body, tearing
its limbs off, cleaving its chest open and ripping out its heart. I envision
this clearly. I feel my fingers flexing as if they were around its neck.
Abruptly I stand and walk through these assembled dregs. I walk quickly and
with all of my strength. I hurt them and bruise them as I pass, and I am happy
at that. Anson Leo rises and blocks my path. I am so enraged I could
decapitate it right here, but I stop myself. This is not right. Not here in
Lestat's chapel, I cannot kill here. That would be vulgar and disrespectful and
crude. I simply cannot, much as I want to. I look straight through it for some
time. It becomes uncomfortable, but it will not move. I bring my arm up and
knock it out of my way. It hits the floor and slides several feet, attracting
attention. I quickly leave the chapel. I hate to cause a commotion. I wish
already that I had not but it is done now. All of the others in the chapel are
looking at it and its spawn, which crowd around it now. Grumbles and
murmurs rise in waves through each little group in the chapel. Gabrielle
leaves her post in front of Lestat and comes toward me. She is displeased. More
than that, she is livid. I think quickly, but I haven't the speed to escape
her, which would be cowardly at any rate. As she nears I open the chapel door
for her. She stands in the anteroom beyond the doors with me. "You need to
hunt. You are becoming troublesome. Go and feed and do not return until you are
able to hold your temper!" She is flushed with fury. I am ashamed, but truly
I do not wish to feed. "I apologize Madame. I will cause no further
disturbance." "Go and feed, now!" she orders. "Gabrielle, not now, s'il
vous plait. I want to stay with Lestat." "Louis. I saw what you were thinking
of doing. Do you imagine that no one else did? Are you trying to cause a riot!"
She saw that? I am at once humiliated. "I did not mean to project my
thoughts-" "You do not need to project your thoughts, Louis!" she
roars at me. "You are so weak anyone could read them!" "Gabrielle, please,
allow me to talk to Louis," Marius's voice says. I turn around and he is
standing behind me. His tone infuriates me. "There is nothing to talk about,"
I tell him. "He does not need talk, he needs blood!" Gabrielle snarls at
Marius, as if I am not there. "I do not need either!" My voice carries
through the doors and rings off the chapel walls, but I do not care. They
both give me stern admonishing looks, which serves to make me even more irate.
"FEED!" Gabrielle shouts, pointing her finger at me. "NO!" She slaps my
face. Her might is such that I am slammed sideways into a wall and fall to the
floor. I stand immediately. My head spins, but I do not let it show. I glower
at her. If she were a man I would- "You would WHAT?" She interrupts my
thoughts, walking toward me, challenging me. "You don't honestly think you
could hurt me! You?" She laughs a bitter laugh. "You don't have near my
power to begin with and you are half starved as well!" "Stop this now!"
Marius says in a low but commanding voice. He comes to stand between us, moving
Gabrielle back to do so. "This is disgraceful and childish. Gabrielle you had
no right to strike Louis and you are wrong to taunt him now. Go back and watch
over your son!" She does not move. She is still staring into my eyes. I do
not care, I am staring right back. "I will NOT have you starve yourself," she
tells me in a voice vibrant with wrath. "Don't defy me." "You have no
authority over me!" I answer, indignantly. Our eyes blaze at each other. I
see Pandora come across the chapel toward the doors. I hear someone walking
down the stairs somewhere behind me, David, I think. "Louis," Marius turns to
me and takes my chin in his hand, forcing my gaze from Gabrielle's eyes to his.
"Please come outside with me. You need to get away from this place, if only for
a little while. Come with me and we'll talk." His
placating tone is difficult to bear. Why is he treating me this way? I take a
deep breath and try hard to control my voice so that it is calm and controlled.
"Marius, I wish to stay here, with Lestat." He sighs and shakes his head.
Pandora comes to him and takes his hand. "What is going on out here?" "Louis
is hungry and he is rousing the congregated rabble," Gabrielle tells her.
Pandora rolls her eyes at Gabrielle's obvious insult and looks at me. Suddenly
an expression of concern crosses her face. She strokes the side of my face
which hit the wall and her fingers come away bloodied. "Louis, what happened?"
"Nothing." I look away. I feel tears form in my eyes. I do not want them to
show. I do not understand why they are coming now. Damn it! Why is this
happening to me! Stop it! You will NOT cry, not here in this company! I feel a
wetness on my cheek. MERDE! I turn and wipe it away. I hear an odd sound from
the chapel. As if all of them gasped at once. This is
wrong, very wrong. Gabrielle, Marius, Pandora and I rush back into the chapel.
I feel David charge past me. Anson Leo, that worthless bloodsucker, has
approached Lestat. I run to pull him away but as soon as he kneels Lestat's arm
comes down like a sledgehammer and shatters the thing. It flies into a million
pieces, flesh and bone, blood and guts everywhere. It's brood screeches and
wails.
Gabrielle looks sickened. Marius and Pandora seem to be in shock. David is
horrified. I laugh. I laugh and laugh. This is my Lestat. No one tries to
molest the Vampire Lestat and lives. It's offspring rushes about, picking up
bits of it and sobbing. I retire to 'my' corner and watch them. They are very
entertaining. They sop up the blood with their clothes. They try to fit their
maker back together like a puzzle. Finally, when they have every tiny bit of
what was Anson Leo, they leave. I am glad to see them go. The chapel is quiet
now. All of the interlopers have left, frightened away by the violence and the
gore. David comes to me. He sits before me. I lift my head to look at him.
"Louis, would you like to stay here for the day?" he asks kindly. I smile a
little and nod, "Please." He takes my hands and clasps them warmly. The heat
feels good against my skin. "Would you care to come to my rooms? They're warm
and the bed is soft." "I want to stay with
Lestat." I tell him patiently. He smiles, "I understand. You know you can
stay here permanently if you wish." "Thank you, David, but I need to be
home." "Alright Louis. Will you help me cover the windows?" "Of course," I
answer. David puts his arm around my waist and helps me stand. I realize I am
shaking a bit from the cold. I start on the left side, David on the right. We
secure the boards to the windows. Marius and Pandora have left to rest for the
day at the house Marius has in Metairie. Gabrielle watches us safeguard the
chapel. I do not look at her. I am not angry any more, but she makes me anxious
and ill at ease. I do not know what to say to her, and I fear what she might
say to me. The windows are masked in wood and the chapel is safe from both
sunlight and invasion. David bids us goodnight and retires to his rooms. She
is still there. I wrap my arms about my knees, put my head down and try to be
invisible until the sun comes. "Louis." I wonder
if I can ignore her, but she will know that I am not asleep. I look up,
cautiously raising only my eyes above my arm. Gabrielle looks strange. There is
something different in her eyes. It makes me nervous. "Louis, I want to tell
you, I didn't mean to hurt you, to draw blood. I was angry." I nod. I hope
she will leave me alone now. Without warning the hunger hits me like lightning.
It pulls on all of my nerves and makes me ache terribly. It must be the
weariness. "You are in pain. I don't like to see you this way. Lestat doesn't
like it either, you know he doesn't. Why are you doing this to yourself?" "I
want to stay with Lestat. I am afraid for him with all of these parasites
about. They have sinister plans." She puts her hand on my folded arms. I
raise my head a bit more, to see her. "I know, Louis. We all know. We are here
to protect him too. No harm will come to him while you are out feeding." She
squeezes my arm a little. " I promise, petit." "Petit?" I
almost laugh. I must be at least five inches taller than her, and I am only
five years younger than Lestat, and five years older in fact, at the ages we
were made. She smiles. "Oui, petit. What did your mother call you?" "I do
not recall," I say. "I bet you don't." My eyelids feel heavy. She knows I
will be asleep soon. "Lie down, Louis. You don't want to fall asleep sitting
up this way." She somehow puts me in a position lying on my back without any
force, but without any active cooperation by me either. "You should have a
pillow," she says, smoothing my hair. "And a blanket, too." "I am fine," I
say. My voice sounds thick. "You are cold," she says with her characteristic
frankness. "Tomorrow night, you'll feed for me, won't you?" I look up at her.
Lestat's eyes looking back down at me. "Oui," I breathe. My eyelids fall. I
sleep.
FINI
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