Louis and David

Chapter Two

David walked into the bathroom. It still had an unreal quality, in its size and its brightness. All of the surfaces were polished to a high shine. He noticed that the glass doors of the shower had Lestat's monogram etched into them. The towels were embroidered with LdL's of all possible styles. David laughed. The mirror over the sinks took up the entire wall and was lighted. David turned on the water and splashed it over his face. That felt good. He wondered if he dare take a shower? There were certainly plenty of towels. But he had nothing to change into. Then again he could always put his own clothes back on. He didn't think it would upset Louis, as he had been ready to see him take a shower with his clothes on last night. David closed the bathroom door and quickly shed his shirt, trousers and underclothes. He turned on the water in the shower, being sure to turn the cold knob first. He had been right about the water pressure, it nearly took his hand off of his arm! David looked for a pressure control. He finally found a series of buttons next to each faucet, and adjusted the force. When the temperature was tolerable, he stepped in. That feel of the water hitting him from all sides was relaxing and strangely erotic. But of course, Lestat would have found a way to take sensual showers.

David took the soap bar from the dish. It smelled of lavender and sandalwood. Very pleasing. He lathered and rinsed then looked about for shampoo. There were two clear bottles sitting on a shelf set into a wall of the shower. They had no labels. He opened the first and poured a small amount of it's contents out into his hand. Bubble bath. He took up the other bottle, and to his delight found it contained shampoo. He lathered and rinsed his hair. Then he stood under the water for a long while, marveling at the height and strength of this new body. He ran his hands over himself. He did feel that his skin seemed harder. And he was much more flexible. 'Ah, God, what have I done to deserve this good fortune?' he wondered. Just because it felt so good, he washed and shampooed himself again.

He stepped out of the tub, with much more grace this time, he noted, and took up a white towel with LdL embroidered in gold at the ends. It was large and thick. He rubbed himself dry and thought what the night might hold for him. He had taken to Louis right away. He seemed to be intelligent and gentle. And he does have a sense of humor hidden in there somewhere. David redressed in his clothing and stepped back into Lestat's bedroom.

To his amazement, the bed had been made. The books were stacked neatly against the wall. And the clothes had been returned to the closet and drawers. Ah, but not all. David saw a pair of jeans on the bed. As he got closer he saw that it was deliberate. There was an entire outfit. Jeans, sweater, undershirt, shorts, socks and shoes. Louis had left a note on the pillow.

"Dear David,
I hope these are the correct sizes.
I apologize if the style does not suit you.
I thought it best to purchase something nondescript.
Louis"

David quite touched that Louis had gone to this trouble for him. He undressed for the second time and put on the clothing Louis had left. Amazingly, everything did fit, as well as could be expected for off the rack. He regarded himself in the full length mirror which stood to the right of Lestat's closet. Black sneakers, white socks, blue jeans and a grey sweater. He looked like an Indian exchange student at Tulane. But certainly not someone who would cause a second glance in a crowd, except for his height. He liked what he saw. He thought briefly of what godawful thing Lestat would have brought for him. Leather pants and a black lace shirt? Red silk suit? G-string and a nose ring? David laughed out loud. He transferred the contents of his pockets to the new jeans and went downstairs.

He found Louis reading in the parlour. "Good Evening, Louis. Thank you for the clothing."

Louis rose as he heard David's voice. "Bonsoir. I'm glad they are satisfactory. Won't you sit down?"

David did so.

"I must apologize for the state of Lestat's room," Louis continued, sitting after David had, "he packed in rather a rush, I'm afraid. I will certainly settle you into the proper guest room for the rest of your stay."

"Think nothing of it, Louis, please. After all, it is my intention to find out more about Lestat," David smiled.

"So you know he's a slob, what else can I tell you?" Louis asked.

David laughed. "Well, there are quite a few questions I have always wanted to ask you. I have read your book, you know, and both of his."

"I really prefer to think of it as Daniel's book, it is Lestat who continually attributes it to me," Louis smiled. "Not that I deny the story is mine, it is. What would you like to ask?"

"If it isn't too personal, could you tell me what is was that led you to seek out Lestat in Carmel Valley?"

"Please feel free to ask whatever you wish. Many vampires were seeking Lestat then," Louis answered.

"Are his books accurate?"

"As accurate as Lestat can account, yes."

"Does that mean no?"

Louis lowered his eyes and smiled. "We remember our time together in different ways, sometimes. As to his accounts that exclude me, I assume that they are accurate. I have no way to verify them of course. What I will say is that Lestat does not deliberately lie, in his writing. He tells things as he experienced them."

"Do you resent his writings?"

"Non. Writing gives him something to do between grand adventures. Keeps him off the streets, as they say." Louis grinned at David. "And he reveals much more of himself in his books than he ever has in conversation. That is his heart and his soul on those pages. I know some of the descriptions of me have been less than complimentary sometimes, but it is harmless. It gives him such pleasure. And of course he needs his revenge."

"Revenge?" David asked, he was a bit startled at the term.

"Oui. For what I said about him to Daniel. It did not show him in the best light, you'll agree," Louis said. "Also, I believe he has always been upset that he had not thought of it first. Writing a book, I mean. And there are still some reviewers and critics who will write that Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles went steadily downhill since INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE." Louis laughed out loud. "You should see him! He'll go on for hours and hours quoting the sales, and reprints, and number of weeks on the bestseller lists that THE VAMPIRE LESTAT, and QUEEN OF THE DAMNED have achieved, even though no one is contradicting him at all."

David laughed as well. "I can see him doing that."

"But his writing has been the best thing for him. He is so much more content once he can get everything down on paper. Just after he has a book published, he is the most blissful, happy and unflappable person. He is almost unrecognizable." Louis smiled a bit. "Of course that usually only lasts three months, perhaps. And then he is back to the old excitable Lestat."

"Why did he use the pen name?" David asked.

"I have never asked him, but I assume that he thought it would help to prove Daniel's book was all lies. You see, if the same author was writing both points of view, obviously the whole thing must be fiction. He actually uses his proper name very little. He has all of his accounts and investments in pseudonyms. I never know whose identification he is carrying. God forbid if I ever had to bail him out of jail or some such. I wouldn't know who to ask for."

"Who is Anne Rice?" David asked.

Louis smiled. "She is my favorite mortal."

"Would you elaborate on that, please?" David requested as tactfully as he could, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"All right, I'll tell you the story of Anne Rice, as far as I know it. Daniel named her. When he was in New Orleans, looking for Lestat, he misheard the phrase "red beans and rice," which is a local dish that absolutely pervades this city, as "Red Beans Anne Rice," the dish, then the name. Like Oysters Bienville, or Eggs Benedict. You must understand, he was severely sleep deprived, and a bit anemic, which was my fault, of course. Well, eventually, he found out the real name, but when he sent his tapes to his publisher, he asked that they release them under that pen name, Anne Rice, which he thought would leave him free to continue to search for Lestat. He felt that this way Lestat, or any other vampire, would be on their guard against a woman, thus giving him an advantage. Eventually of course, an author had to be produced. By that time Daniel was quite involved with Armand. Armand contacted me, and I found this creative, intelligent, beautiful young girl, and asked if she would accept the role. She agreed. And she has always kept up her end of the bargain.

"She does the book signings, she is open and courteous to her fans, she lets them come through her house, she talks to them, she takes their messages, she is wonderful. We couldn't possibly exist as we do without her. She has even written books of her own, which are very good. So she is in fact, an author. But it is she who carries the main burden of the charade. And she does this with good humor and class. We are eternally grateful to her."

"So you speak with her? You control her actions?" David asked.

"Non, non, not exactly. She and I are great friends. I see her often, and we talk casually about such things when we are together, but often we give her the situation, and she invents the solution. She is exceedingly clever. I told her, after Lestat had released his first book, that I didn't wish to release any more information of my own. One brush with fame was enough for me. At her next appearance, I believe it was a book signing, she explained that she was no longer quite so enamored of 'Louis' and she felt more empowered to be speaking through 'Lestat,' now." Louis smiled wide, showing his fangs. "I sent her twelve dozen roses. I thought that was just brilliant. She is that way. We can rely upon her to cover our mistakes, to reconcile our conflicting tales, make it all look like fiction. As Daniel says, 'She pulls our asses out of the fire and then takes the heat.' " Louis laughed and shook his head.

David looked amazed. "But she knows. She knows what you are, and who you are?"

"Mais, oui. She does."

"She has such power, then. Don't you fear what she may do?" David asked.

"No more than I fear what Mekare may do, or Maharet. They could destroy the rest of us just as easily. But it is not an issue. Though she is mortal, she is part of our coven, Lestat's and mine, Armand and Daniel's, she would never hurt us. No more than you would have endangered Lestat, during his visits, when you were mortal," Louis told him.

"I see, I see," David said, nodding. "Yes, it all seems to make sense now. I must tell you, she is quite a topic of debate in the halls of the Talamasca. There have been all sorts of theories. Some are certain that she herself is some kind of vampire, or other immortal. It has been put forth that she is simply a convenient pawn, or that she is being kept as a mortal slave, in some way. Some think she is a harmless flake, others that she holds some power over the vampires she writes about. Of course when I saw my own name, and Aaron's and Jesse's in QUEEN OF THE DAMNED, I was quite shocked and disturbed."

"I can imagine, but that is to be blamed upon Lestat, not Anne."

"You call her Anne?" David asked.

"Oui, that is her name. Everyone calls her Anne. But of course you know that she was not named that at birth. It has been in the interviews and in the biography," Louis said.

"Yes, but I wasn't certain if that was true."

"It is all true. Everything about her, personally, is true, just as true as Lestat's books are about us. I met her at a poetry reading, in San Francisco. She seemed a bit shy, as am I in those settings, so we ended up in the same corner. She heard my accent and asked me where I was from. I said New Orleans, and from there we must have talked for three or four hours. She was doing research for FEAST OF ALL SAINTS at the time. I said that I had researched that time period myself and we discussed that, completely losing all track of time, until Stan," Louis looked to David, "her husband," he explained, "came to find out where she had got to. The reading was over and we had both missed it completely." Louis laughed. "So we made a date to meet again, and discuss her book, the next night. We kept in touch, as much as we could, and when Armand called me, about coming up with 'Anne Rice,' she was my first thought. And yes, that is Stan's last name, so therefore hers as well. One of the reasons I thought of her first was that she already possessed the right surname."

"But what about all of the parallels between her real life and the books? What about Michele and Claudia?"

"Ah, Michele. She was a most precious child." Louis gave a sad smile. "That was quite a tragedy. But of course, it was only a coincidence, the similarities between Anne's daughter and our daughter. Actually, we find it quite funny how these comparisons are continually made. You can make any character stand for any real person with very little effort. If Anne had written A CHRISTMAS CAROL, then Tiny Tim would have been Michele. You see?"

"Hmmmm." David was unconvinced, but knew that often the truth is the most unlikely explanation.

"Let me ask you a question. If you believe that Claudia is Michele, and Gabrielle is Anne's desire to save her mother, and all that, then who is Armand? What of the 'characters' who have no parallel? For that matter, who is Lestat? Who am I?"

"Yes, I see that of course, but it just seems so convenient," David said.

"I know. Perhaps it is all predestined after all, oui?" Louis laughed.

"Perhaps so. As we were investigating, we continually found these parallels, and we did begin to wonder if either Anne's world or your world was a deliberate falsehood, perpetuated in real time, so that all of the past documents could be authenticated. It was quite a popular theory for some years."

Again Louis laughed. "She will love that when I tell her."

David found himself almost mesmerized by the sound of Louis's laughter. It was a beautiful, infectious sound. It was a thing of perfection. Like the laughter of angels. Low and melodic. The defining example of laughter. David wondered briefly if this reaction was a product of his new vampire hearing, but then he saw that Louis had been waiting, patiently, for him to go on.

David smiled a bit self-consciously, "I was getting caught up again. I apologize."

Louis smiled at him and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "No need. Do you have any other questions?"

"I do, but I am afraid I must be going out, if you'll excuse me," David said, wondering if Louis would get the meaning behind his words, without elaboration.

Louis comprehended at once. "Oui, but of course. I shall be here when you return."

"Oh? Aren't you . . . going out?" David heard himself ask, and then thought, 'What a personal question! Why did I say that?'.

"I have already been," Louis answered, bringing up his hand to indicate David's clothing.

"Ah, yes. I forgot," David said, unconsciously pulling at the collar of the sweater. He stood. "Well . . ." He found himself somewhat at a loss, and the hunger was growing unbearable.

"Let me show you to the door," Louis said, smoothly covering the awkward silence.

'Victorian manners, European grace, Southern charm, these things were instilled in him. As unchangeable as his development, arrested forever at twenty-five. A young gentleman still, even in this Savage Garden.' David thought, admiringly, as he followed Louis to the door.

"Do you wish me to accompany you?" Louis asked, opening his front door.

David was aware that Louis disliked hunting with others, and was very touched by the offer. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."

Louis nodded and closed the door after him.


David went out into New Orleans with a feverish satisfaction. He couldn't be more delighted with Louis. He felt a certain tenderness, a warmth for him already. He knew now that he had made the right decision in coming here. He was certain that Lestat would return here, and probably soon. He loved actually being in Lestat's city, in Lestat's own house, with Lestat's own fledgling! Things were shaping up marvelously. David quickly took to the air and transported himself to the public housing buildings, behind St. Louis Numbers 1 and 2. He had read in mortal minds that this was a "high crime area" and therefore his kill would cause less of a stir. He dispatched two men quickly, healing the fang marks and hiding the bodies in the trunk of a vacant car. He then thought of returning immediately, but couldn't resist a walk down Bourbon Street first. He was still falling into trances over his heightened senses. Perhaps if he went into the heart of the city, where all of the sights, sounds and smells are strongest, he could effect a "sensory overload" of sorts. After this, his attention and concentration might return. Also, he admitted, he wanted to experience the French Quarter. He wanted excitement. He wanted sensations. He wanted to see how far these new powers could take him. It wouldn't take more than a few hours, Louis would wait for him. And there was always a chance that Lestat would arrive in his absence. He wanted so much to see Lestat again, to share this vampiric existence with his only friend.

After watching David disappear through the side window, Louis went upstairs and opened the guest room. He retrieved David's clothing from Lestat's room, folding it neatly and piling it on the dresser. He opened the window to let in some air. As he was remaking the bed with fresh linens, the enormity of what he was doing struck him, as solid as a blow, and he had to sit on the bed to keep from falling.

'Lestat has made another companion, and I have welcomed him into this house! I had him sleep in Lestat's bed! I am already situating him here, when I have only recently been invited to live here myself! Giving him a room, buying him clothes, answering questions, what am I thinking? What is Lestat thinking? Non, I realize what Lestat is thinking. David helped him when I wouldn't. I am not forgiven. He is playing with me, as he told me he would. Why didn't I pay attention to that? I should know by now that Lestat means all of these little remarks. Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, what shall I do now? What is my next move? What sort of game is this? Was David sent here by Lestat? Is he lying?

'But no, I do not think he is lying. And Lestat has never used subterfuge. Perhaps it was only the act of giving David the Dark Gift that was to be Lestat's move against me. He once made one smaller and weaker than me to keep me near him, so it stands to reason that he would make one larger and stronger than me to drive me away.

'Yet Lestat would have wanted to present this new one to me himself. He would want to see me receive him. Lestat had not planned on David leaving him so soon. And it is through David's own will that he has come here. It is not a part of Lestat's grand scheme.

'If there even is a grand scheme. If I am not simply looking for persecution where none exists. If I am not caught in the vanity of thinking that all of Lestat's bad decisions are somehow a direct attack on me. I must think. Lestat doesn't plan. Lestat acts on impulse. I know this. So David could not be some sort of trap for me, could he? Lestat has always wanted to make a fledgling of David. He offered it to him at that first meeting. And if we are meant to be adversaries, we have certainly gotten off to a bad start at it. David is too intelligent, too mature, and too independent to be Lestat's pawn.' Louis stood up and resumed making the bed. 'And even if he were, it would make him my ally rather than my adversary. So if that was Lestat's plan, he has again chosen his companion badly. And he certainly went about making him in the worst possible way if that was his intention. One doesn't force another into being one's closest friend. Rape is not the type of thing they'll be looking back on in fifty years and laughing about. Well, Lestat might, but I certainly doubt that David will. Poor David, Lestat's latest victim. Lestat befriended him, seduced him, needed him and then betrayed him. And he still loves Lestat. . . .the same as I.

Louis finished with the guest room and walked down the hall to change the towels in Lestat's bathroom. 'Lestat,' he thought, as he entered the room. 'He is like a drug. An addiction. We should form a support group, David and I. Lestataholics Anonymous. Adult Children of Lestat. We could contact Gabrielle and form PFLAG: Parents and Fledglings of Lestat the God. We could march in parades! Or I suppose we could wait until the wives of the "Promise Keepers" go into recovery and join them. One conceited, overbearing control-freak who thinks he knows what is best for everyone, and believes that what is best for everyone is that he be in charge of everything and everyone all the time, is as good as another, I suppose.

'I wonder if that is what his father was like? He seemed perfectly pleasant to me, but of course he was very sick then. And he did admit that there was much he had done to Lestat for which he begged forgiveness. Then again, if I am to believe Lestat's book, he was a complete tyrant. I cannot reconcile the image of the man with whom I ate dinner and played chess, with the ogre who would have his son locked up and beaten and beaten again, and deny him everything that made him happy. What would that do to a boy? And he said this was common, even expected. I suppose it is Lestat who needs the support group. Immortal Survivors of Eighteenth Century French Parenting.'

Louis sighed as he passed Lestat's mirror. There was a picture tucked into the corner of it. It had been taken in Miami, just after the coven had moved there from Sonoma. It was a picture of Gabrielle, Lestat and himself. He remembered that neither he nor Gabrielle had particularly wanted to pose for it, but at that point they would each do anything Lestat asked. They were just so relieved to have him back. Of course it was blatantly against the rules. No exposure to close-up photography and all that. Which was one reason that Lestat simply had to have it, obviously. Louis had tried to convince Lestat to allow him to take it, but Lestat wouldn't hear it. They must all be in it. Lestat had purchased a camera with an automatic timer, just so that neither Louis nor Gabrielle could get out of it that way. Lestat had set up the camera and they must have let it take pictures for thirty minutes, while Lestat told jokes and tickled them and did everything else he could think of to get them both to smile. Louis remembered that there had been dozens of pictures developed in the end. He had counted at least ten in which Lestat was smiling while he and Gabrielle rolled their eyes at each other or stood looking impatiently at Lestat. Louis had thought that these were in fact the best pictures, but Lestat had thrown them all in the fire. But this one had been Lestat's favorite. Louis pulled it from the mirror frame. Lestat sitting on a chair in the middle, Gabrielle sitting on the arm of the chair to his left, Louis sitting on the chair arm to Lestat's right. Lestat had an arm around each of them, and just before the camera had flashed, Lestat had quickly pulled them both down onto his lap. Thank God it had been a wide chair or he'd have knocked their heads together! But he had gotten his result, they had all been laughing when the shutter closed. The next night he shut himself into his room and began to write. It was the last Louis would see of him for twelve nights straight.

Louis put his hand over the right half of the picture so that only Lestat and Gabrielle's faces showed. 'So alike,' he thought. 'The same face, masculine and feminine. Madonna and child.' Louis laughed. He picked up the pad of Post-It notes from the table by Lestat's phone. He covered the half of the picture with himself in it with one note. Then on another he wrote,

"Outtakes from the PIETA sessions, pre-sculpture photography.
Artist's comment: ' AWFUL! Reverse positions, mother/son.
Madonna - less laughing, more mourning.
Christ - less clothing, more dying.
This is ART, people, ART!' "

He stuck the note under Lestat's and Gabrielle's faces, and slid the picture back into Lestat's mirror. He wondered how long it would take Lestat to notice it. He wondered how soon Lestat might be home. How long would he search for David, before returning? Perhaps he would go to London first? And after that, where? He wouldn't think to look here for David, not if he thinks David is avoiding him. 'So it could be quite a long time before I see him again,' Louis sighed to himself. He walked back to the guest room, David's room, and shut the window. Just then he heard footsteps on the gallery. Lestat?

But as he rushed down the steps he realized that Lestat, while still in charge of his own body, which apparently he was, would never knock on his own door.

Louis and David - Chapter Three

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