One Night at St. E's
DISCLAIMER: This work of speculative fiction uses characters created and owned by SOME CRAZY BITCH WHO SUES HER FANS. 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."
One Night At St. E’s
by DarkAngel
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 who I am. 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 came 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 move to 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 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 even and calm. "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 she wears an expression of concern. 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 are welcome to 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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