A Rainy Night in New Orleans
WINNER 1999 Immortality Award for BEST LOUIS/LESTAT
WINNER 1999 Immortality Award for BEST SHORT SPEC
Disclaimer: This work of speculative fiction is not meant to infringe upon the legal rights of the author of the Vampire Chronicles, Knopf Publishing and any other entities which hold rights to the Vampire Chronicles. Repeated readings will bring rain.
Spoilers:VampChron to TotBT
CBD= Central Business District - includes Canal Street and the Riverwalk, where most clothing and department stores are located.
A Rainy Night in New Orleans
by DarkAngel
aout 1999
I awoke to rain. Winter had struck New Orleans with a damp sponge, it seemed. I walked from my daytime lair to my little house, where I spent my nights. It was very cold and there was a strong wind blowing. When I arrived, I built a small fire in the hearth. It didn't give off much heat, but it warmed me somewhat.
I selected a book of Blake's poetry from a stack by the door. As I sat down to read, I caught my shirt on the edge of the desk, which was splintering. The shirt ripped nearly in two. It was turning out to be one of those nights. I looked for a sweater I had kept hanging over a door in a back room, but I found that it had frayed so badly it seemed to have reverted back to it's original state, a ball of yarn. Needless to say, I was not in a good humor.
'Well, I suppose it is time to get new clothes.' I thought. I dreaded going back out into the rain, but there was no point in putting it off. Unfortunately, I was not dressed for shopping. I would have to steal. I tore off the rest of my shirt and beat out the fire with it. That released a bit of frustration, anyway. I opened the door, took a deep breath to brace myself against the rain, and began running toward the CBD.
Luckily, I attracted no notice, even though I was only half clothed. Most mortals were intelligent enough to stay in on a night such as this, and the ones which were out, I passed fast enough that they didn't really see me.
I arrived at a clothier's and climbed to the roof. I could break open a door, but I could neither detect nor disarm alarm systems, so I had recently needed to find new ways to gain entry. I have become far more knowledgeable about duct systems than I ever wanted to be. I slipped in and I located a restroom. I rubbed myself relatively dry with yards and yards of paper toweling. I then searched until I found the men's department. It was almost warm in the store, warmer than my little house, anyway. I looked around for something black, preferably plain. Instead I saw a mannequin dressed in fashions so like those of my mortal years that I had to blink to make certain I wasn't imagining it. A full shirt of white linen with gathered sleeves and ruffles at the cuffs and collar. It's buttons were of crystal and silver. I thought I should certainly have it to wear for Lestat some time. It fit! The mannequin was wearing pants of burgundy velvet. 'Certainly not.'
I went to a rack of suits and pulled out a few black ones. Frock coats! If it were possible, I might have died of shock. I chose one which fit me well. It was of thin, black, wool with silver buttons as well. The pants were all entirely too loose and baggy, though. The ones I was wearing were alright, but that they were soaked. They felt terribly cold and rough against my skin when I pulled them back on. I saw sweaters hanging along a wall and took down a black one. There were more trousers hanging beneath the sweater. These were tapered, which I prefer. I pulled them on and they fit to my skin, which is comfortable for me. I was beginning to think that I might go and see Lestat tonight, if there was time. It had been almost a month since I had seen him last. I needed one of those plastic bags. On my way to the cash register, I passed a display of shoes. I grabbed a pair of plain black leather with laces, formal shoes, and black stockings as well. I found a large bag behind the register and removed the shirt and coat and put them into the bag. I put my wet trousers into another bag. I looked to the clock, there was certainly time to see Lestat, a plan began to form. I pulled my wallet out of the wet jeans I had been wearing. It fell into three pieces, thank God the plastic cards were still alright. I took those out and threw the rest of the wallet in with the jeans. I grabbed a new one from behind the shoe display, along with more stockings and a pair of plain black boots. I put the plastic cards in the new wallet and slipped it into my back pocket. I pulled on the sweater. I took another pair of the trousers from the wall and put them in the bag with the shirt and coat. I took these and went to find a long waterproof outer coat. I found one, which was also black and had a hood. I was ready.
I didn't particularly want to go back through the dusty air vents, as my objective was to look rather respectable, so I found the door. Just inside it was a money machine! I pulled my wallet out and checked my plastic cards. Good, I had that one with me. I inserted it and took out several hundred dollars. Of course I knew that this transaction could be traced, but that was of no consequence to me.
'I must find a telephone.' I went back to the register, as I thought, there was a phone. I called for a cab. While I was there, I left a pile of money next to the register. I had taken out far more than I needed anyway. I had no idea if it was enough or too much for the clothing I was taking, nor did I particularly care. I was half way to the door when I remembered that I would need luggage, if I didn't want to attract attention. I sighed and ran up the lifeless escalator to find some. I grabbed a case and put my plastic bags into it, then donned the waterproof coat. I exited through a maintenance door which I hoped was not connected to the alarm system. If it was, then it must have been a silent alarm. No matter, I made my way quickly to the bar where I had told the cab to find me. I got there well before the driver and waited.
"The Pontchartrain Hotel, Please." I said, as I closed the car door. Though it embarrasses me somewhat to admit it, I love the Pontchartrain Hotel. It is warm, luxurious, private and has an eminently tippable staff. That is to say, they will keep their mouths shut about anything, so long as the tip is big enough. I admire that in a mortal. I have come to believe that we should keep our heritage of thieves and whores alive in New Orleans, and I am happy to see people doing their part.
The taxi pulled up St. Charles Avenue. I paid the driver with a handful of money and walked into the lobby. I attracted some notice, but I know that my clothes were appropriate because I looked very similar to a business man who checking in as well. I suppose it must have been that my hair was still rather wet. I booked a suite for two weeks, though I would probably only use it for one night, and paid with another plastic card. A porter took my bag and I followed him to my rooms. I gave him another handful of money and locked the door behind him.
I needed plumbing, which my little house did not have. I wanted to shower and cut my hair and turn myself into something reasonably fashionable, or at least presentably modern, for Lestat. I had to see Lestat that night, the thought was beginning to consume me.
I hung up my water proof coat, stripped, took a hot shower and found a comb and scissors in the bathroom drawer. I clipped the ends even and then cut it short in front of my face so that I wouldn't have to pull it back to keep it out of my eyes. I left the rest alone, short hair doesn't particularly please Lestat, at least not on me. I dried myself well and dressed in the white shirt, black pants and new boots. I shook out the waterproof coat and buttoned it up, pulling the hood over my head. I went out to feed.
I caught some poor mortal on the banks of the river and disposed of her there. I could see lights on in Lestat's apartment. I ducked into the French Market and took a bouquet of roses in several shades of red. I left all the money I had that wouldn't fit into the wallet. I walked to Lestat's apartment, holding the flowers behind my back. I hit the buzzer at the gate.
"Yes?!" He sounded impatient. Too late to back out now, though.
"It's Louis. Is it a bad time to call?"
I received no answer, but the gate sprung open. I assumed he meant for me to enter. Still, I stopped at the door and knocked.
"Good God, Louis, it's OPEN!" Lestat shouted.
Definitely a bad time to call. I opened the door. I decided that the roses might not be a good idea after all. Too sweet, too sentimental, and Lestat was in a mood to be insulting, I could tell. I quickly opened the door to Lestat's office, which was off the front hall, and threw the roses in. I took off my coat. I could hear him coming down the hall.
"Hello Louis," he growled.
"I am sorry to disturb you," I said.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, nothing. I was just coming to see you. Just to visit. I can come back at another time."
"No point. You're already here." He turned his back on me and walked to his living room.
I did consider simply running out the door, but then I'd have to live that down, and I wasn't sure I could. So, I hung my coat on the coat rack and followed him.
He fell into a couch and gestured at another across from it. I sat there.
"I hope you aren't in a chatty mood, Louis, because the last thing I need tonight is to hear you prattle on and on about some Keats poem, or an interesting piece of art, or your little shopping spree." He waved at my clothes.
Yes, this was the insulting mood. "Non, Lestat," I answered.
"Good."
How could I get out of this gracefully, and more importantly, quickly, and without irritating him further? Perhaps if I had a task I could do that and then leave. "I was thinking that you might want me to look over your investments for the month," I said.
"You said you just came to visit!" he said angrily, "Did you come to see me or to do my accounts?"
Well, that was a bad decision. I was beginning to feel ridiculous in those clothes. 'Why hadn't I just grabbed another sweater and gone back home? I could be reading "the Proverbs of Hell" right now.' I thought. 'I suppose I might as well at least try to discover the reason for this disposition.' "What is the matter, Lestat?"
"Nothing. What's the matter with you?"
"Have I done something that has upset you?"
He sighed. "No, Louis, I'm just having a bad night. How are you?"
"I am fine, thank you, but what has happened tonight?"
"Well, my stocks are all dropping, for your information. My property value has just sunk through the floor because some idiot opened his neon nightmare right next to three of my lots. My dear friend David has been called away to some godforsaken village to chase ghosts. My book has just fallen off of the bestseller list. And, and this is the topper Louis, AND I go out in the pouring rain to see my fledgling, who NEVER goes ANYWHERE, by the way, to see if he might perhaps have some comfort for me, some bit of simpleminded trivia which might lighten my mood. Do you know what I find? He is gone, without a trace, save a scorched shirt in the hearth which has obviously been burning recently. Well, my God, I almost have a heart attack, as I am sure you can imagine."
"Lestat," I start.
"No, no, wait, I haven't gotten to the best part yet. So I leave his miserable little hovel, almost on the verge of tears, thinking he has gone into the fire and contemplating following him myself, when I find out that he has been out malling!" His eyes shot hate at me.
He'd done it. I felt terrible. "I am sorry, Lestat. I had no idea you were coming. I . . .my clothes . . .my shirt tore and I needed to get another, but I had built a fire, you see, and I couldn't leave it burning. And so-"
"Louis, I don't want to HEAR it!" he said loudly, cutting me off. He stood and in a flash was towering over me.
I looked up at him, not knowing what to do. I swallowed nervously.
"Just come here," he said in a broken voice. He pulled me up into his arms and held me tight. He buried his face in my hair. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth.
I put my arms around him and held him as tight as I could. I could feel him shaking. "Lestat, I didn't mean to frighten you. I am sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry, Lestat. But nothing happened. I am here. I'm well. I'll never leave you that way, Lestat. Never. Never."
"Oh, Louis," Lestat answered. He was weeping. He sat down on the couch and I allowed him to pull me into his lap. He pressed my head into his shoulder. He squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn't protest. He quieted after a bit. He began wiping at his face with his sleeves. I searched my pockets for a handkerchief. One had come with the wallet. I offered it to him. He laughed.
"Louis, don't you know nobody carries a handkerchief anymore?"
"I do," I answered. He took it and wiped his face. He rocked me a bit. I could feel him relax and I relaxed against him.
"Oh, God, Louis. I didn't know what I was going to do," he said.
"Why didn't you call Marius or Armand and see if they could sense me?"
"Because I didn't want to know that it was true, mon cher, I didn't want to hear that you were gone."
"I love you, Lestat." I told him. He pressed me tight against him again. "Even if you are a fiend," I added.
He laughed. "I am, I know. I like this shirt though, really," he said, fingering the ruffles at my throat.
"Do you want it?" I asked.
He laughed harder. "No, Louis, it suits you. New shoes, too?"
I nodded.
"Well, you were long overdue for some new clothes," he said, running his fingers through my hair. "Beautiful One."
I smiled at him.
He pushed me off of his lap. "Let me see these pants."
"They're just black trousers," I told him.
He turned me around. "Very nice." He followed the back seam down with his finger.
It tickled and embarrassed me. "Lestat!" I pulled away.
He laughed and took my hand. "I want to show you something that came with my computer."
Before I could say anything, he had opened the door to his office. "Louis! You got roses all over my office floor!" he scolded me, smiling.
"It wasn't me," I said, guiltily.
"Oh no?"
"Non, Lestat."
"Well they weren't here before you came, and now they are."
"I think it is odd, too," I commented.
He picked up the roses. "They're very fragrant, Louis. Why did you throw them on my floor?"
I shrugged uncomfortably. "You didn't seem to be in the mood for roses."
"You thought I'd make fun of you, laugh at you for bringing them," he said.
I looked down and didn't answer.
He lifted my chin. "You're right Louis. I probably would have." He kissed me. "I am a monster sometimes, aren't I?"
"Never," I said.
"Liar."
"What was it you wanted to show me?"
He grinned and shook his head, knowing I was just changing the subject. But he accommodated me. "It is a virtual tour of the Globe Theatre." He clicked some switches and popped in the CD-ROM.
"Really?" I was excited. The love of Shakespeare was something which we truly shared. We virtually roamed the Globe for hours. We saw the view from the stage and from the seating areas. There was scenery for each Shakespearean play and how it worked, whether it was lowered from above or pushed on from the side. There were costumes and make-up. We went through the areas where the actors dressed and prepared. It was great fun.
But I could feel the dawn coming. "Lestat, I must go now."
"Are you crazy, Louis? It's still pouring outside."
I looked, and it was. "I won't melt, Lestat." I turned his wrist to see his watch. "Anyway, I haven't any choice. Thank you for inviting me in. I'll see you again."
"No, Louis." He stood and blocked my way to the door. "You mustn't go."
My legs were feeling heavy. "Please, Lestat, don't delay me."
"I'm not delaying you. I am keeping you. Stay here, today."
"Here?"
"Yes, here. With me."
"But, the windows . . .doesn't the sun come through?"
He grinned at me. "Oh, Louis, that's right, you haven't seen my bedroom, have you?"
"Non."
"Ah, well, that should be remedied. Come." He led me down a hall to a pair of double doors. He flung them open to reveal a Victorian master bedroom, with a large full tester bed, draped in a thin material, a velvet foot bench, a Louis XIV wardrobe, a high, molded plaster ceiling with a beautiful central medallion, a large French mirror gilded in gold, and paintings by Rembrandt and Botticelli, but no windows.
"Oh," I breathed. "My."
"So, will you join me?" he asked, closing the doors behind us. He knew he had me. He knew me too well, the bastard. I suppose I had been too long in my little tumble down house, for this richness struck me far too deeply. I was nearly intoxicated with it. All I could do was nod.
"Ah, bien." He smiled, pulling me over to the foot bench. He sat me down and removed my shoes.
I should have protested, but I was entranced with the tiny blown glass piano on his dresser. We had had that at the Rue Royale, hadn't we? It couldn't be the same one. He pulled off my shirt. I didn't really even notice. "Lestat, this wallpaper," I looked around at the deep blue with the pattern of golden lions. "This was the same, wasn't it? I mean, the same as yours. Before."
"Yes, Louis, what a good memory you have." He folded my stockings into a ball and stood me up. "All of this is the same as or replicas of the things in my old room. But of course this room is a different size and shape so I had to modify things a bit."
"I can't believe it." I said. My vision was starting to glaze, I fought to keep my eyes open. I stared at his book shelf. I started to walk to ward it but my trousers had somehow fallen around my ankles, trapping me, I stepped out of them and walked to the shelves. "Are these your old opera glasses?"
"Into bed, Louis. You can look at it all tomorrow." I was turned away from him but there was a smile in his voice. I saw my folded trousers land on the floor by my feet. His soon followed. I didn't pay much attention.
"Lestat, this is the pocket watch I gave you." I took it off the shelf and turned to show it to him. I lost my balance and fell into a sitting position on the thick carpeting. "Ow."
He was standing over me, chuckling. He took the watch from me and picked me up. He put me into the bed and got in beside me.
"You don't have any clothes on!" I said.
"Oh?" he answered, laughing. He pulled the heavy velvet covers up over us. "The sun is rising. Louis, don't you feel it?"
I let my eyes close as I nodded to him.
"Until tomorrow night then, my love." He said, brushing my cheek with his lips.
"J'taime, 'Stat." I managed to mumble.
FINIS
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