He thought of the drunken, sour smell of Freniere's breath on his face as he lay in his bed, Freniere's moist, hot, sticky hands touching him. Louis shuddered repulsed by the ugly memory of it. There had to be some escape to this seemingly carefully plotted out capture Babette had him in. Perhaps, he could work on Freniere's sympathies for him.
"Louis," a voice interrupted his thoughts. "I need to talk to you," said Paul urgently.
Paul was Louis' younger, much indulged brother. Louis spoiled him, trying to be both father and brother to him. Louis felt sorry for Paul that he hadn't enjoyed the company of their late father for as long as Louis had. Paul was committed to his Catholic faith and the family assumed and approved the idea of his becoming a priest. Paul went on to say, his eyes lit up like a lantern finding the way,
"I had a vision from the Virgin Mary herself, Louis," his beautiful, childish face of twenty years beamed at Louis,
"She wants us to sell everything we own so that I can start a mission in France to combat the growing encroachment of atheism in our father land. We can be heroes! We can give up everything for a woman. The most wonderful woman in the world, in heaven!"
"Give it all up for a woman?" Louis angrily retorted, "A woman! Damn you Paul," he cried to Paul's stubborn face, "I suppose you mean the sell of our slaves? Separate their families and friendships they made. Take them from the only home many of them have ever known and sell them. What about the old and the very young? Is that what your Lady wants? Their unhappiness?"
Louis' thoughts roared in his mind, Does everyone want to own me? Does everyone want to possess what I worked so hard to create, maintain, develop, my plantation, Pointe Du Lac?
His anger burst out, "Damn your soul to your Lady! To your selfish, insensitive beliefs, your irresponsibility,"
Louis was glad to have someone to lash out at,
"You try overseeing the needs of hundreds of slaves. Keeping them housed and busied. Your try overseeing the profits and costs of the market. Damn you and your Lady to Hell. When have the two of you concerned yourself with me?"
"We pray for you, Louis, I'm praying for you now even as you curse me,"
Paul said, earnestly, surprised at his usual soft-spoken brother's out burst.
"Don't you want something other worldly in your life? Something more than the collect of dust on objects that are useless to your eternal life? What I offer you is adventure! Spiritual adventure! No ties to graven images of home, furniture, slaves, and comforts, but an adventure of total abandonment of self."
"I happen to work hard for yours, mother's and our sister's comforts, and the church gets its share, too," Louis leapt out of his bed, his being swept with despair over Paul's hurtful words, "I need some air."
"You're a coward," Paul cursed Louis, following Louis to the gallery, "A simple minded, faithless coward. Look at me, Louis."
Paul stood at the head of the stairs, he reached out to grab his brother, to force Louis to look him in the face. Louis brushed his hand away, continuing to walk down the stairs, hurriedly. Paul reached out again, losing his balance, falling down the brick stairs to his death.
"Paul," screamed Louis. Louis tried to stop Paul's fall, but everything happened too quickly, he ran to Paul's prone body on the bottom of the stairs, and tried to revive him. The still, brokenness of Paul's lifeless eyes imprinted themselves on Louis' soul forever.
"Tell me Louis again, how it came about to be that he died?" Louis' mother implored him, between heaves of weeping.
"He just fell, mother. He just fell," Louis said, softly, still remembering the terrified look on Paul's helpless face.
"Did you help him fall?" Louis' mother spat at him?"
"What do you mean help him fall?"
"The servants said you were arguing. That Paul was frantic with anger. That you were mocking and cursing him," his mother accused.
"Perhaps," Louis said dully, feeling drained from all desire to explain himself to anyone.
"Perhaps, perhaps," his mother slapped his face. "Our Paul is dead and all you can say is perhaps! He's dead Louis. Explain it to me. Why?"
Leaning over, Louis kissed his mother's cheek. Then he quietly left the room. How could he give an answer to such an unanswerable question?
Louis spent the next month avoiding people he knew. He even turned Gerald away when he paid him a sympathy call, with his pregnant bride Suellen. Gerald wanted to reach out to Louis, but his own responsibilities weighed upon him too deeply. Besides Louis was not open to anyone's help. Refusing all gestures of kindness offered to him.
He moved his mother and sister into a town house so that they could avoid the unsavoury rumours being bandied about his part in Paul's death.
At least the rumours put Babette at bay for the moment from her grand schemes of my marrying her," Louis thought bitterly as he downed his gin, cheating blatantly at cards hoping to provoke a fight which would end in his murder he felt he deserved for destroying Paul.
He noticed a shadow watching him. A shadow that seemed to follow him every night. He could never make out the features, the appearance of the shadow. He could just feel its eyes boring into him. He hoped who ever it was would deal him a blow so deadly that he'd finally be excused from living his life.
He felt so stared at, and vulnerable from the being that stalked him, as if he was a naked slave on the action block. He tried even harder to cheat at cards, making up sneering insults, concerning his fellow card players' wives and mothers. They just amiably laughed him off. As if they were hypnotised by his every word. No matter how hard Louis tried to die, he seemed unpalatable to death.
He left the saloon, and mounted his bay. He cantered towards his plantation. He was about to go into his home, when something grabbed him by the waist, turned him towards a hungry mouth, piercing his throat. "Who are you?" Louis whispered.
Never had Lestat ever felt as greedy as he did at that moment for someone's blood. Sucking violently, his heart beating thunderously, tumultuously in a war of passion. He thought to himself, Should I kill him? Should I kill him? He gently laid an injured Louis at his feet.
"Death can not claim you, mortality can not claim you. For you are owned," Lestat swore.
He caressed the human face before him. Never had he seen such black half moons of long eyelashes on such a pale gentle face. He had read Louis' soul as he was consuming his blood. He read the fountainhead of caring Louis had still for all those who had hurt him. This one has the capacity to love greatly, deeply, totally. I will be the object of that love, Lestat decided.
The next evening Louis awoke greatly weakened from his loss of blood. A man with eyes that forced their way into his most inner hopes stared at him. Raked him over possessed him completely. The man explained who he was. What did he say his name was? His name, Lestat.
He promised Louis total separation from the sorrows in his life. He told Louis of the adventures that he had separate from the follies and pains of mankind.
"But, you are an angel?" Louis whispered, as he felt Lestat's bold exploration of his pained feverish flesh. But, you are a devil. Louis thought to himself here to finally lead me to the damnation I deserve for Paul. Without even the trouble of dying I will be damned.
Tracing and probing Lestat's touch left a trail of icy throbbing in Louis' hot, dying flesh. "Please," he whispered, pulling himself toward Lestat. "I want you to." His head ended up falling backwards weakly, revelling the nakedness of his slender neck, his jugular vein a blue streak shinning in the white of his throat.
Lestat laid Louis back carefully on the bed, wanting to sink himself into Louis' being, wanting to yank Louis' legs apart, pull, and fondle, fill Louis' body totally with himself, collecting gasps and sighs from Louis. But, he restrained himself to a gentle drink of Louis' blood. A sleeping, shivering Louis turned to his side, throwing his legs and arms around Lestat's body. Lestat sighed knowing his cold body offered little warmth to Louis. He protectively wrapped the quilt closer around Louis. He passionately kissed Louis' lips, keeping himself from going any further,
"I will know you for eternity," he promised Louis.
"What a way to start a courtship it would be to force myself on you," Lestat laughed shakily feeling overwhelmed by his love for Louis, "Later cher, when you are feeling better, than you can choose me as I have chosen you."
He curled himself around Louis' prone body. He thought to himself of Louis, So loved; yet so unloved. So wanted, yet unwanted. Everyone tearing at you. Wanting you to perform magical, illusionary tricks for them. Never letting you rest in peace. Including myself.
Suddenly, as he watched the shallow intake of breaths Louis took, Lestat was certain beyond a doubt that Louis belonged to him. Every breath that Louis took, every beat his heart took, everything that kept Louis alive; kept him alive so that Lestat could love him. He would never let Louis be free, no matter what his choice, he meant for no man or woman to have any access to Louis' capacity to love and to be loved. All that made up Louis' framework of being belonged to him and no one else. "Your beauty is an afterthought to me. I'll always love you simply for yourself. Till tomorrow and tomorrow, cheer," Lestat promised himself and Louis as he left before dawn.
The next evening Lestat came with his beautiful polished features, his grey eyes calm not betraying the storm of desire that held him, his mop of blond hair combed carefully back. He took Louis before Louis could protest to his first kill.
Louis weakly bit into the black overseer, drinking the blood from his vein. But, this is murder. Murder of a helpless man. I know this man, his family. He did nothing to me, Louis thought to himself.
Louis fell to the ground, leaving Lestat to finish draining the man till he was nothing but remains to fill a coffin.
Rolling his eyes with disgust at Louis cowardliness, Lestat doused the dead man's body with rum, then threw it into the swamp.
"It's not murder, Louis," Lestat tried not to let the enormous well of impatience he felt at that moment to creep into his voice. "It's substance. It's how you will continue to live from now one. You always lived off the sweat of mortals. Now you'll live off of their blood."
"I'd rather not continue then. Resign me to death," Louis said, sorry for the man and his family.
Drawing his fangs into Louis with savage intensity, he rejoiced at the frantic kicks and hits Louis visited upon his person. Throwing Louis hard to the ground, he sneered, "I thought you wanted to die?"
"No," Louis said shamefaced, holding and nursing his injury.
"The live," Lestat intimately took Louis in his arms. "You will drink from me Louis. Or die." Louis jerked away, trying to pry himself away from Lestat's clutch on him. Cutting into Louis' neck, drinking him in, Lestat straddled Louis, an ecstasy overrode Lestat, feeling not only lust, but also a powerful obsessive need for the frightened being in his arms. He felt everything he had ever wanted finally laid in his arms that night. Tearing open a vein from his wrist, he pressed it to Louis' demanding mouth and whispered, "Drink."
Lestat watched as Louis drank. Louis take of him was so gentle and tender. Lestat laid his cheek on Louis' cheek, feeling the sucking motions of Louis' cheek against his face. Lestat never felt so loved or so much like he belonged to someone. He loved the gentle, kindness of every gesture Louis had in his possession. Yet, he knew a stubborn streak ruled Louis. Louis could not be pushed beyond his beliefs too hard or too far.
Louis released his mouth from Lestat's wrist. Louis watched Lestat's lips move. The lips seemed to move in slow motion. They took an eternity to form the words, "Don't get lost in the night."
Laughter bubbled out of Louis' mouth. His words seemed to flow in a long stream of barely formative sounds, like they were spoken underwater, "But, I am lost," Louis said. He laughed again. Each word sounded like the ringing of delicate bells. "So beautiful. This night," Louis said, gently, "Everything."
He looked at the blades of grass spearing the night. The flowers he could see far away in the garden so defined. The iris', soldier straight, pierced the air like plumed swords. The hyacinths sharp enough to cut the air to pieces. The roses curled in waves of petals, constant motions of swirls of fragrant oceans of waves, and waves and seas of petals, held thorns that tore, and ripped into the breeze. The wind though, the wind was not harsh, it swept through his hair as soft as a hymn.
But, the stars, they seemed to transform from pinpoints of fire into explosions of stellar, reflective, crystals close enough to touch and burn.
Then everything the stars, grass, sky, the slice of moon, and the flowers sucked themselves into a cyclone of colours and indistinguishable shapes. "Lestat," Louis moaned, doubling up in pain, he felt like his insides were turning into a fiery liquid,
"What's happening?" he gasped.
"Hush, Louis, You're dying. Your mortal self is dying. But you'll live forever after, and more than that even." Lestat said awkwardly, trying to put his arms around Louis' body.
"Don't," Louis gasped, confused at Lestat's words that he was dying. He pushed Lestat away, "Your touch hurts. Everything hurts. Leave me alone." His wild, trapped eyes stared at Lestat. Lestat reached his hand out to Louis to take. Louis backed away from Lestat's desire to comfort him. Louis whispered into the night,
"What have you done? What have you done to me? Lestat tell me please?"
Sadness washed over Lestat as Louis snapped out of his initial swoon of becoming a vampire. Louis rushed about confused and frightened, asking Lestat to explain what was the nature of his dying mortality. What did it mean?
Collecting a shocked and bewildered Louis whose mortality was seeping out of him. Lestat forced him with persuasion to lay in his coffin. Lestat lay heavily upon the quickening, and twitching of Louis' metamorphosing flesh.
"What's happening to me?" Louis moaned, icy, clear, sweat leeching from him. He clutched hard to Lestat's vest.
"Be quite Louis," Lestat said, "It will be over tomorrow."
Weeks after Louis had laid in Lestat's coffin with Lestat's body pressing upon him. Louis found himself in a constant battle of wills with Lestat.
"Louis," Lestat cried out at Louis in a fury. "Don't you think it's about time you shelved your fancy of eating animals only? You look like hell!" Lestat cursed the day he informed Louis about the trick of draining rat's blood into a wine glass. He cursed Louis for so readily latching on to the idea of sparing humanity his hunger, by converting his thrust to animal blood, rather than human blood.
Have you no idea how hungry I am, Louis thought to himself. The lack of human blood in his diet weakened him. His face hollow and gaunt, his dull eyes laid themselves on Lestat's vigorous anger always thrown against him.
"Leave me alone, Lestat," he said, feeling dizzy. He worked over his ledgers having liquidated a large sum of money he intended to give to Freniere that evening. He tried to hurry himself to make his liaison with Freniere. Louis sighed remembering the conversation he and Babbette had last night about their arrangement. When he lied to her about the nature of his apparent illness. Babbette couldn't help but look pleased at the news that Louis was dying. Being the widow of a rich plantation owner was much better than being his wife. She closed her eyes dreaming about Pointe Du Lac belonging to her, all its luxuries just ready to be put in her pocket. She licked her lips like a cat smelling cream.
Louis begged her to give him at least a month to mourn his brother Paul, to wait until the rumors of Paul's death died down. He eyes as cold as a grave measured him for a coffin. She decided Louis would last a month or so. She readily agreed on the condition of a large sum of money being presented to her, or she would expose Louis as being a molester of young boys. Louis knew eventually he would have to fake an honorable death, and leave everything and everyone he loved behind him.
Unsteadily Louis got to his feet taking the satchel in his hand, feeling light headed.
Lestat filed his perfect nails angrily. "Just where do you think you are taking that money, Louis?" he said accusingly.
"How do you know there's money in this satchel?"
"Because I looked," Lestat grinned ominously, glaring at Louis.
Throwing the satchel at Lestat, Louis cursed, "Why can't you leave anything alone! This is my plantation. My home. My slaves. My furniture. My home."
"You choice me everything about you. Everything you owned fell to me the minute you choice to me," Lestat sneered, throwing a crystal , wine glass at Louis. The innocent piece of frail glass flew past Louis' shoulder, smashing against the wall paper's field blue flowers.
" I do not remember choosing you! I remember choosing to live. You choice the matter of my survival. Leave you have to leave. You will leave after your father ides," Louis ordered.
Lestat had moved his dying father into a room at Pointe Du Lac. Lestat's biter taunts and harsh treatment of his father greatly troubled Louis. "I have had difficulties with my mother. She even accused me of murder, never would I dream of treating her with the rudeness you treat your father. You're unnatural. Cruel. You have no mercy. You take and take from your surroundings like a thief in the night. At least a thief had a motive."
"You little ninny. I have a motive. To survive! Of course I take and take You are so absurd Louis, so ludicrous. When are you going to understand we are going to go through an eternity of dishes, glasses, things. Things have no value to creatures such as you and I, Everything is transitory to us."
"You can also include human beings as being transitory. As having no value to creatures like us. You could not possible value anyone, love anyone, care for anyone," Louis cried.
"Human beings are but kindling for our existence," Lestat said curling his lip. His feelings hurt, smashed against Louis' judgmental hostility. He wanted to hurt Louis back. It's my station in life to consume, to enjoy, to tolerate no nonsense from you." Lestat strode to Louis grabbing his wrist pulling him towards him.
Losing his balance Louis fell against Lestat. "Let me go. You paw and destroy everything. Including myself." Louis tried to twist his arm away.
Lestat dangerously laughed at Louis. Pulling his victim to the stairs. Slinging an angry Louis over his shoulder,
Louis fought with all that he was worth as Lestat took him to his bedroom, and threw him to the bed.
"The money," Lestat demanded of a struggling Louis, "Is it to buy favors for Freniere? Are you in love with him Cher?" Lestat demanded, contemptuously, playing with his finger against Louis' cheek. "I know everything about Freniere. Louis I marvel after all that you could still care about him."
"As another human being," Louis said fearfully, never seeing Lestat this furious with him.
"You're not a human being," Lestat howled smashing his fist through the bed stand. "You're not! Can't you get that through your wooden head that you're acting unnatural? That you're a vampire? That you're a creature of the night that needs the blood of man to thrive. How I hate it when you say such simple minded, childish things, Louis. You embarrass me with your foolishness. Human being! You make me laugh."
Louis chest heaved rapidly, he repeated to Lestat bravely, "Because he's a human being."
"And what did your human being do Louis?" Lestat said evilly. "Tell me. Did he put his cock in your mouth." His finger caressed Louis' lips.
Louis tried to roll off the bed. Lestat quickly restrained him.
"Did you like the taste of his cum in your mouth?"
"Stop it Lestat," Louis pleaded.
"Or was it your ass being fucked that pleased you the best. Is that it Louis? Do you like it in the ass?"
Stop it," gasped Louis, burning with anger, "Stop it, How can you say such things to me?"
"I'll say what ever I want to say to you. I'll do anything I want to do to you. Tell me my little starving waif? Did your human ever do this to you?"
"Stop it," Louis begged, trying to break away from the vise like hold he was in. Licking and sucking his mouth along Louis' neck, Lestat pulled back for just a moment amazed at the effect he was having on Louis.
Louis strained and suffered under the attentions of Lestat's tongue. Arousal was in every fiber of his body, as he quaked underneath Lestat. "Lestat," he moaned, forcing Lestat's mouth to press hard against his neck.
Louis' almost human scent intoxicated Lestat. He felt over overwhelmed by Louis' passion pressing against his body. The fury and roar of Louis' hunger held him as each drew blood greedily from each other, as if their thirst for each other was unending. They fed off off each other, growls emitted from their throats. They were as wolves at a kill. They swooned in each other's arms repeatedly, carried away with superlative need.
Later, Lestat whispered in Louis ear. "Mine. All mine." Watching Louis' face fill out before his eyes. The freshness of health returning. He pushed his hands up Louis shirt pressing hard on Louis nipples. Lestat had a sudden urge, a craving to tell this beautiful personage in his arms all about his past. The abuse he endured as a child from his father, his life in Paris with Nicky; how he loved being a young actor playing in opera buffas. He wanted to tell him most importantly that is wasn't his choice to be a vampire. That he was raped and then abandoned. Set upon the Devil's road alone. To survive the shock of his metamorphoses he made his vampire life a series of mad cap adventures. He made himself not the image of a bloody, craven, monster like the vampires of Armand's coven, worshipping false devil's doctrine. He made himself into an avenging angel, an angel that preyed on evil doers like Freniere. An angel that enjoyed and sought out pleasures . The overseer that had been Louis' first kill was a habitual wife beater. Lestat sighed. He knew Louis would argue that still didn't warrant the man's murder.
Lestat was about to tell everything about himself to Louis. Louis' eyes snapped wide open.
"I have to leave, " Louis declared, jumping off the bed.