Ruling Rue Royale

Chapter Five

"Each one leaves his mark upon the world in many strange and various ways, Louis." David had come up behind them. He'd been following the conversation with his preternatural hearing from upstairs. "Immortals more than most. I would have told you of this, but, to be frank, I had forgotten it myself."

"You knew of this, David?" Louis asked.

"Well, yes, now that I see it, I do remember reading something of it in your file." David peered at the model number.

"Do you mean the Talamasca did this?" Anne asked.

"Not at all. In the course of our research however, the original records were uncovered. We were documenting a family which had recurrent hauntings in successive generations in New Orleans. Of course we traced all of the funeral and burial records that could be found. This man Jean Jacques was an exceptional artist. His designs were modified and reused after his death by a Frenchman named Christophe Ste Marie. He was a cousin to the Lermontant family who were morticians in New Orleans for many many decades. Ste Marie was a carpenter who made furniture as well as coffins. One of his grandsons, Jean-Marc, became a shipbuilder and eventually the Jean Jacques styles found their way to France and Italy. By the 1920's this particular design surfaced again in America, and was being used by a coffin maker in New York. From there it was exported and occurred in many places. The name often changed, but it always retained the year, the name of the craftsman, an indication that it originated in New Orleans or the PdL initials, which were translated sometimes; Prie dieu Lumiere, Poor dead Love, Pain don't Last, all sorts of things. Much of this research had begun in the 1850's, but of course with the publication of Louis's memoir in the 1970's, it was consulted to find any evidence or verification of the events described , such as Paul's death, and the thread was put together from there for this particular design. It is all in your files now, Louis, I just reviewed them a few months ago."

Louis stared at David in shock. "I had no idea . . . I mean, I knew that the Talamasca had some of our things, and what Jesse was doing, but . . . There are FILES on me alone?"

"Well yes, Louis." David found his discontent charming. 'God knows Lestat's first thought would have been-'

"How many files?" Lestat asked, hugging Louis proudly, as if he'd attracted the notice of the Nobel Prize committee.

David laughed, happy that Lestat could not read his thoughts. "Several, I don't have an exact count."

"Not more than me, I hope." Lestat said, shaking his finger at Louis.

"No," David answered, "not more than you. You have more than twelve drawers. Louis only has three, and they are a sub-category of your own. So you needn't be jealous." David shook his finger at Lestat, mocking him.

"File envy." Louis said in a stage whisper, indicating Lestat. Lestat brought his hand up to slap Louis's mouth, pulling it at the last moment to simply give his lips a light tap.

Hearing laughter erupt once again from the show room, it occurred to Bubba Weisberg that this was the jolliest group of mourners he'd dealt with in a long time.

"I have a question," Anne said. "How could the coffin have been ready in time for Paul's funeral?"

Louis looked off, thinking. "Do you know, I am not sure. It never occurred to me to ask."

"Oh the components were already prepared, the box, the angels, crucifixes, all of that. Sometimes the words were already carved as well. Due to the outbreaks of yellow fever and plague, the coffin makers in New Orleans knew that they could spend time making coffins without orders, because they would certainly be bought, sooner or later. So all that needed to be done was to affix the ornaments that were specified to the box." David explained.

Louis seemed to still be lost in thought. "I cannot remember clearly but I believe it was delivered the next afternoon."

"Well, I have already made my purchase, but Mr. Weisberg would like to know where we would like it to be delivered." David raised his eyebrows at Lestat.

Lestat reached into the Weeping Angels coffin and handed Louis the card. "You go and keep him busy. David and I will take care of the 'delivery'."

Louis nodded.

"Anne, you go with him. David did you glean from him where the stock is kept?"

"Yes, a room below this one."

"Good. You come with me."

Louis and Anne ascended the stairs to Weisberg's office.

"Sir?" Louis knocked at the door, though it was already open.

"Yes." Bubba stood up from behind his desk and smiled pleasantly. "Please, come in."

"Thank you." Louis stepped back so that Anne could precede him. Weisberg gestured to the chairs across from his desk and they sat.

"I understand you were speaking with David about delivery?" Louis asked.

"Yes, sir. Your brother explained to me that you do not wish the services to be held here, so where may we delivery the casket?"

Louis looked behind him, as if to make certain neither of his 'brothers' were around. He lowered his voice. "Well, actually, there is another purchase we need to make."

"Yes?" Bubba lowered his voice as well.

"Yes, you see, we have had another death in the family, and with it coming so close to Jonathan's, we haven't felt that the time is right to break it to David." Louis explained, painfully.

Anne patted Louis's hand. "And so we need to purchase a second casket."

"Oh, I am so sorry. Yes, I understand, of course." Bubba looked truly sympathetic.

Louis handed him the card. "We would like to have this one as well, please."

"Certainly." Bubba began drawing up the bill.

"Would you prefer check or credit card?" Louis asked.

Anne almost laughed. It was such an ordinary thing to say, but she rarely heard Louis say ordinary things.

"Either one would be fine, sir. Do you wish to make payments?"

"No, I'll pay in full." Louis wrote his check, his large old fashioned letters barely fitting on the lines. He ripped the check from the book and went into another pocket for his wallet. He produced the credit card and driver's license which were under the same name as this particular checking account.

"Thank you," Weisberg said, taking the check and ID and copying the information.

When he had finished, Anne quickly retrieved the cards before Weisberg could hand them to Louis. She wanted to see just what Louis's driver's license looked like. The picture was beautiful, though Louis was standing in the usual position, it didn't look like a mug shot, more like a serious portrait. The name was Yves-Louis Thibodeaux. The address: 1118 Royal St., New Orleans, LA 70116. Sex: Male. Birthdate: 10/04/61.

Anne counted backwards, "Good heavens, Louis, will you be 30 this year?"

Louis looked exactly like someone who had just been caught with a fake ID. "Uhm, yes."

"You don't look a day over 25. NOT a DAY." Anne flashed him a wicked grin. Sure after a few hundred years he was entitled to advance his age a bit, but not without some friendly harassment. She looked back to the card: 5'10, 137 lbs., green eyes, black hair. Date of issue: 10/04/88. Anne wondered just how Louis had obtained this. The DMV wasn't open after dark, was it?
"May I have it?" Louis held his hand out for his cards. Anne relinquished them gracefully. Louis took them with a look of relief and put them away.

Bubba had just finished up the paperwork and presented it for Louis, or rather Yves-Louis, to sign. "Now, about the delivery, our delivery man, Big Arthur will be in around eight tomorrow morning. Where would you like him to leave them?"

"The delivery has already been attended to, thank you." Louis handed back the signed papers, and motioned for Anne to stand.

"No, no, I mean of the caskets." Bubba clarified.

"So do I. Bonsoir." Louis took Anne's arm and escorted her out of the office quickly.

Lestat and David meanwhile had entered the stockroom and searched among the boxes to match the model numbers, and the liberate the desired coffins.

"David, you WOULD want the one on the very bottom of the stack." Lestat complained, trying to noiselessly move the four coffins stacked on David's.

"Do you think that's bad? Louis's is upright between two stacks, with a stack in front of it!" David snapped back.

"Oh just grab him the metal one then." Lestat giggled.

David sighed. "And you know if I did that he would only say that it was the one he'd wanted all along."

"He would say that if we only took yours and gave him the cardboard box!" Lestat gripped the bottom coffin of the stack and with a tremendous effort, pulled it from the others, like a magician whipping off a table cloth and leaving all of the dishes standing. He turned to David and bowed.

"Very nice." David mimed applause. "How would you like to release this one as well?"

"Indolent goldbricking fledgling." Lestat helped David move the stacks and they freed Louis's coffin.

The two of them exited through a basement window, pushing the coffins out ahead of them and flew with them to the town house. They returned to meet Anne and Louis a few feet from the Lonigan and Sons entrance and whisked them home just as efficiently.

Once home David carried his coffin up to his room. He put it at the foot of the bed. He dusted and polished it and removed all of the packing material from inside. He then slipped off his shoes and laid down inside. The satin was slippery and cold. He reached for the lid. For a moment he worried that it might seal and he would be trapped inside. Immediately he realized how ridiculous that was. He envisioned a headline:

VAMPIRE TRAPPED IN COFFIN BURIED ALIVE!

He dropped the lid down, secure that even if it did seal, he could easily punch a hole right through it. He watched the lid fall and heard it land with a thump. He stretched his toes. There was quite a bit of room actually. He crossed his ankles. He tried to put his hands behind his head, but that was pushing it too far. The lid was concave and left plenty of space so that his face was far from touching the lining. Not at all uncomfortable really. Of course there was no room to turn, but that would not be a problem during the death sleep. David reached up and stroked the satin.

'I am a vampire lying in my coffin,' David thought. 'Immortal. Triumphant over death. I shall rise from here every night for eternity and feed upon the blood of the living. I have not only conquered death, I have become death. I will still be filling coffins when this coffin is dust.'

David lay completely still. He smelled the wood. He studied the quilted pattern on the inside of the lid. He concentrated upon the way his hair felt against the satin pillow. He wondered how different this would be in ten years . . .twenty years . . .seventy-six years . . .200, 500, 1000. He heard a knock. Someone was knocking on his coffin. He lifted the lid.

Louis smiled down at him. "I am sorry to disturb you," he said, his emerald eyes sparkling with good humor.

David laughed and sat up. Before he could rise, though, Louis kneeled beside him.

"I thought you might wish to install one of these." Louis handed David a lock.

"Oh?" David looked at it. It was a brand new, stainless steel, sort of dead bolt affair.

"Oui, these are not designed to keep anyone out, only to keep one in. You see," Louis pointed to a few small latches. "They only lock from the outside. Not very secure. So most of our kind who use these install a lock on the inside, as a safety measure."

"Ah, so should it be discovered in the day, it cannot be opened." David nodded.

"Precisely."

David looked at the screws and the mechanism. "I see, so this would be attached to the lid?" He held a piece to the edge.

"Well, no," Louis said slowly. "Because that would only prevent the bottom from being pulled down, which is not the way most would attempt to open this."

David laughed. "I confess, I have always been lost with detailed mechanics."

"Would you allow me, then?" Louis asked eagerly.

"Certainly, if you don't mind." David answers.

"I will need to trade places with you."

"Of course." David stepped from his coffin and sat on the bed to watch.

Louis pulled a screwdriver from his pocket, knelt in the coffin, attached the mechanism the proper way and fastened the screws. He laid back, closed the lid and tried the lock. David heard the bolt slide into place. Louis pushed on the lid from inside to test its strength. The bolt was slid back and the lid popped open.

"Done, monsieur." Louis stood and closed the lid. David only then noticed that Louis had thoughtfully removed his shoes before lying on the satin.

"That was quick, Louis." David said, impressed.

"I have developed some skill at it over the years." Louis re-pocketed his screwdriver.

"Really?" David gestured for Louis to sit beside him. "Have you always been mechanically inclined?"

"I suppose. I didn't have much chance to discover it as a mortal, but I needed to acquire the ability when I lived with Lestat."

"Oh?"

Louis lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Lestat tends to break things."

David laughed. "I see."

"After a while the servants began to get uneasy with so much damage occurring so often. It isn't common to patch walls nor replace doorknobs on a monthly basis. We began losing staff. Now it was fairly common knowledge in the French Quarter when a person would leave his or her position. Too many servants leaving the employ of the same man would begin to arouse suspicion. In order to keep our staff, I began repairing things myself. After a few months, I found I enjoyed it, and so I continued. It is much easier now with standard sizes and parts for everything."

David regarded Louis admiringly . "You continue to astonish me, Louis."

Louis momentarily flushed with pride, but then quickly looked down at the floor, so that David would not think him vain. "A child could do it, David. It isn't difficult."

"But it is an amazing adaptation."

Louis laughed, "David, you exaggerate. It is only a matter of following instructions. I don't use it that often really. Only when I am with another. When I am alone I allow my dwellings to fall apart around me."

"What compels you to be so modest of your achievements, Louis?"

"Modest?" Louis thought for a moment. "It isn't actually modesty, David. It is only that I try not to cultivate boastfulness or conceit. It is unbecoming to a gentleman, don't you think? I mean, there will always be Lestats of course." They both smiled. "But then he has such charm, he can get away with more egoism than most."

They were caught in each other's gaze. David considered kissing Louis. He considered doing even more, but he knew that they would both regret it. And so he simply gave Louis a small kiss on the cheek, which Louis returned.

"I am happy that you bought a coffin for yourself," David said.

"As long as you are happy, David," Louis laughed. "I'm not at all sure what I'll do with it now, though. I think I shall need to find another hiding place for it, other than the one I presently have. It was convenient to my little house, but that is hardly a consideration anymore."

"How do you decide where to hide a coffin?" David asked, pulling his legs up on his bed and leaning back on his hands.

"Oh, all of the logical considerations. Somewhere out of the way and untravelled, not likely to be disturbed by mortals. Somewhere that it can remain wholly undetected if possible. Of course tombs are always good choices, in that if a coffin is found it will arouse no suspicion and it is unlikely that one will be disturbed in the day. But then, it is a bit difficult to exit a tomb unnoticed, what with having to replace the marble and all. And, conversely, it is difficult to enter it quickly if the need arises. I find that abandoned buildings work well if a space is dug beneath the floor. As an extra precaution I generally purchase the property if at all possible, to prevent anyone deciding to knock it down around me."

"A coffin was once discovered as a part of a museum display, that was found to be a daytime resting place for a vampire, and apparently had been used for many years. Of course after the Talamasca began investigating it, the vampire never returned," David told him.

"Very clever. I would guess that it was Eric's." Louis obviously held Eric in high esteem for his creativity. "Where are you going to place yours?"

"As I intend to sleep in it, I thought I would keep it here, in my room," David said.

"I see." Louis nodded.

David noticed that Louis's eyes had begun to take on somewhat of a vacant stare, which he understood to be the very first signs of the of the death sleep descending. He checked his watch to see that it was four thirty a.m. David was just about to comment on this when Lestat walked through the doorway.

"Well, how do you like your new coffin, David?" Lestat found the whole thing somewhat amusing. Why anyone would choose to sleep in a box when a comfortable bed would do just as well, he could not fathom.

"Very much," David answered.

Lestat shook his head and sighed. "Well it is time for you to be crawling into it, Dracula. You too," he said to Louis.

"How did I ever survive with out you to inform me of the coming dawn, Lestat?" Louis asked.

Lestat bent down and leaned close to Louis, looking into his face. "Judging by the look in your eyes, I'd say by the skin of your teeth." Lestat kissed Louis's forehead. Then he pulled David to him and kissed him on the mouth. "See you tomorrow, David."

Louis kissed David's cheek and then stood and kissed Lestat. "Good day, gentlemen." He left David's room for his own.

Lestat closed the door. "Do you need any help breaking in that coffin, David?"

David smiled suggestively. "Well, I don't know that we will both fit."

"Let's find out." Lestat kicked off his shoes, skinned out of his clothes, flipped up the lid and jumped inside.

David disrobed and laid down gingerly atop him. After some wiggling, scrunching and settling in, David's arms were around Lestat's neck, Lestat's arms were around David's back. David had one leg between Lestat's and one to the right. They fit together like folded hands. Lestat brought the lid down. It pressed them a bit closer.

"Aaaahh, perfect," Lestat said. David was already asleep.

The next night Lestat awoke and with some effort, disentangled himself from David. He got out of the coffin and laid David on his back, putting the satin pillow beneath his head. Kissing him, he closed the lid.

The whole house was dark and quiet. Lestat unlocked Louis's door and entered to gaze at his fledgling. Louis's hair had grown out during the day, thank God. Lestat ran his fingers through it. He bent and kissed the cold lips. He resisted the urge to repeat the explorations he had undertaken that night in Rio. Instead he built a towering fence of books around, over and on top of Louis on the bed. When he woke up, he would know Lestat had done it, but it was a harmless prank, and sooner or later Louis would have his revenge. Besides, Louis had started it by buttoning all of his shirts together in 1818. Lestat laid a copy of The Pickwick Papers over Louis's face and proceeded downstairs.

Mojo was up and on him as soon as his foot hit the bottom stair. Lestat rolled around with Mojo for a good long time and then let him out into the enclosed courtyard. He made a note to get a dog door put in, so that his majesty could come and go as he pleased. He saw to it that Mojo's food and water bowls were clean and filled with fresh food and water. And then went to his new office.

He looked around appreciatively. He smiled at the thought of Louis having done it all and closed the door. He walked to the new computer, sat in the new chair, inserted a new desk and started his new book.

"The Vampire Lestat here. I have a story to tell you. It's about something that happened to me."

David was disoriented for moment when he found himself alone. But then he concentrated and could hear Lestat tapping at his computer downstairs. David rose, showered, dressed and went to knock at the office door.

"Care to join me for a hunt?"

"Not tonight, David. I'm writing." The tapping resumed.

'A bit diligent for Lestat. But Louis did say he was rather dedicated when writing.' David thought as he left to hunt alone.

David returned home to an unusual commotion. He followed the noise to the main bathroom.

"Hoooooooooooooooowl!"

"Mojo, silence."

Much whining.

"Shhhh, mon chiot. Calm down."

Splash!

"Bark! Bark bark! BARK!"

SPLOOSH!

"Oh, Mojo." A very heavy sigh.

David surmised that Louis was endeavoring to bathe the dog. Mojo, however, had apparently made other plans for the evening and was strenuously attempting to communicate this to Louis. David entered, inadvertently becoming an accessory to Mojo's escape plan. A damp furry streak flashed past his leg.

"MOJO!" Louis shouted, though it was obviously too late. He sat on the edge of the half-filled bathtub and put his head in his hands.

"Sorry, Louis," David said, not able to stifle a chuckle. "I'll catch him."

"Oh, it's alright, David. Leave him be." Louis looked up. "He's just gone back into the kitchen, to hide under the table. I'll retrieve him in a few minutes."

"Would you like some help with him?"

"Why? Are you not particularly fond of those clothes?" Louis smiled at him.

David smiled back and joined Louis on the tub. "I've had some experience with dogs."

"I certainly will not refuse you. I have had some experience with dogs as well, but not such - " Louis raised his voice, as if speaking so that Mojo could hear. " - stubborn, fearful and spoiled dogs as Mojo."

David shook with suppressed laughter. He rolled up his sleeves. He noticed that Louis had dressed for the occasion in jeans that probably were once black but now were a dark greyish color and a similar sweater that seemed to have been attacked by cats wielding rosebushes. As Louis turned to pour flea soap into the bath water and swirl it around, David saw that Louis had not taken time to cut his hair, but had pulled it back in a tight braid, which surprised David. Somehow Louis just didn't seem to be the sort of man to braid his hair. But it did keep the onyx strands held back and away from Louis's face, which was most likely a problem with such fine and silky hair. Wasn't Lestat always messing about with it? Probably feels like the satin lining in my coffin, and probably just as slippery.

"David?"

David realized he had been entirely too caught up in musings of Louis's hair, of all the silly things. "Sorry Louis, I was just, thinking about something. What did you say?"

"I am going to bring Mojo back in, alright?"

"Oh," David said. "Oh, yes, quite."

Louis nodded and headed off in the direction of the kitchen.

David looked around and noticed that there were at least a dozen large thick towels stacked on the closed lid of the toilet. He looked at the soap bottle Louis had been pouring from. He turned it and read the label.

Battles fleas, ticks and mites. Conditions skin and fur preventing mange and dandruff. Rose scented. Forty-eight dollars! David inspected the other bottles lining the sink. Moisturizing dog shampoo, fur conditioner -for a healthy shiny silky coat!, claw strengthener, paw lotion - 'the cure for rough dry pads', and canine toothpaste.

'And he thinks the dog is spoiled now?' David thought. There were three different kinds of pet brushes, claw clippers and a file, drops to prevent ear mites and pills to prevent intestinal parasites and heartworm. 'Good God, Louis, I didn't know I was in for such an elaborate production. Why not just laminate the poor dog , seal him in a glass bell and be done with it ?'

Louis came through the door holding Mojo cradled in his arms like a baby. He gracefully kicked the door closed behind him. Mojo barked once and tried to jerk himself out of Louis's hold. Louis gave him an extremely stern look. Mojo whined, but stopped struggling. David assumed some sort of agreement had been struck in the kitchen concerning just exactly whose plans were going to be carried out this evening. David was surprised that it had been accomplished without any violence or even shouting, as he would have heard it. Mojo had obviously accepted defeat but apparently had retained the right to sustained whining as a form of non-violent protest.

Louis set him on his paws in the tub. Mojo tentatively put one paw up on the rim of the bath tub. Louis looked at the paw and then looked at Mojo and raised one eyebrow. The paw was quickly withdrawn, but the whining became just a tone more pitiful. David decided that he would make a concentrated effort to never annoy Louis sufficiently to attract a raised eyebrow, as the consequences seemed to be dire.

"Would you mind holding him?" Louis asked David.

The usual soft gentle voice was unexpected. David had thought Louis would be at least irritated, if not quite angry by now. "Certainly." David put his arms around Mojo's middle. Mojo lifted very sad pleading puppy dog eyes to David. "I'm afraid that doesn't work with me, my boy."

Louis pushed up his sleeves, poured shampoo into his hands and lathered Mojo thoroughly with vampiric speed. He then rinsed him and did the same with the flea soap almost before Mojo had time to complain about the first time. Mojo tried one more leap for freedom, covering Louis, David and the bathroom floor with water and soap suds.

Ruling Rue Royale - Chapter Six

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