Foster Fledgling
Chapter Twelve
"I heard that, Armand," Louis said, flipping a finger against the back of Armand's head.
"Ow," Armand said flatly, grinning at François.
"How far do we have to go?" François asked, rubbing his arms and turning up his jacket collar. "It's getting cold." He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
"It isn't far, only a few blocks," Louis replied. "Don't put your hands in your pockets like that. It doesn't look dignified, and it wrinkles your suit."
"Oh, for God's sake, Louis," Armand muttered under his breath. Louis tossed him a scowling glance. Armand waved a hand, annoyed, and continued on ahead.
"My hands are cold," François protested, watching as Armand stopped a few yards away, leaning against a tree.
"Here," Louis took the boy's hands in his own, and held them for a moment. "There, is that better?"
"A little," François said. "But they're still cold."
"My fault, I'm afraid. I was so distracted, I neglected to dress you warmly. Well, it's only a little ways, p'tit," Louis bent to kiss him. "We'll have to get you a warm coat of your own, a fine long one, and some gloves and a scarf. For now, why don't you put your hands in your coat pockets. That is not so inelegant, and it's only just this once." He ruffled the boy's hair.
François grinned up at him, and did as Louis had suggested. "That's a little better," he allowed.
"Good," Louis kissed him again. "Come, let's go. Armand is getting impatient with me, I'm afraid. And I want to see Lestat." He slipped his arm around François's shoulders as they hurried to join Armand. "I want him to meet you, François. He will be so impressed with you, I just know it."
They caught up with Armand, who quickly pulled off the leather bomber jacket he wore, and handed it to François, who just as quickly donned it. They continued along St. Charles Avenue, Louis pointing out this house or that building that held some historical or personal interest. Armand added commentary of his own as well, indicating which houses were haunted, or which had been used in some television production. François listened raptly, and soon forgot about the cold, which had of course been the plan all along.
They soon arrived at Napoleon, and crossed to the neutral ground, stopping before a large brick structure. Lestat had purchased the old orphans' home a few months earlier, claiming that it reminded him of his boyhood home. Louis seriously doubted this; he'd been to the Auvergne, had seen the ruins of the de Lioncourt estate, and there was nothing that even vaguely resembled the sturdy, solidly institutional building before them. Still, Lestat had insisted, and had spent a fortune renovating the outside and the inside.
They approached the iron gate, which Louis was surprised to see now sported a plaque, stating a brief history of the building. He put his hand to the gate, but was stopped by Armand.
"Louis, I need to tell you something," Armand said softly.
"What?" Louis asked, impatiently. He'd waited this long for Lestat to return, and was in no mood to delay any further. "You've already told me, you think he's mad. I'm prepared for that. Now, can we go? It's getting colder by the minute."
"I just wanted to prepare you, that's all," Armand replied, shrugging. "You go ahead, then. He's in the chapel. The others are inside, they'll show you if you get lost." He turned to go.
"Hey," François put a hand to his arm, stopping him. "Where you going?"
"I have not yet hunted this evening," he replied. "You go with Louis. The others are inside, the rest of your . . . family." He kissed François, and smiled warmly. "Daniel is dying to meet you. Don't keep him waiting." He turned and disappeared into the night.
"Come, p'tit," Louis said, slipping an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get you out of the cold."
Louis opened the gate, and they walked up the path. He lifted a hand to knock, but before his hand could fall, the door opened.
"Louis, I'm glad you're here," David greeted them, ushering them inside. "He's in the chapel, he's been calling for you." He shut the door behind them, and gestured toward a hallway. "That way."
"Thank you, David," Louis said, giving his brother fledgling a polite smile and a strong handshake in greeting. "We came as soon as we were able. Armand has told me of Lestat's delusions," he said. "Is he well, otherwise? He's not hurt, is he?" He followed as David led the way down a hallway.
"No, not physically," David replied. "He's - Oh, dear." He stopped, and turned back to see François, who had remained standing just inside the door, forgotten by both adults. "I'm afraid I've been terribly rude." He smiled warmly at the boy, his Anglo-Indian face filled with friendly curiosity. He looked to Louis expectantly.
"Of course, how rude of me," Louis said, waving to François to come forward. "David, I'd like to present to you my son, François." François meekly stepped forward, suddenly shy. Louis patted his shoulder reassuringly. "François, this is our good friend, David Talbot."
"Hi," François said, feeling terribly insecure suddenly. This was far different from meeting Armand, who was far less intimidating than he'd expected. François had read the books, he knew of David Talbot. The former Superior General of the Talamasca, truly an old man, was yet a young vampire, only a few years older than himself. Here was a man who convened with spirits, who had known fully well that such things as vampires existed and yet did not fear to talk to Lestat, a man of immense education and breeding. Even his accent was high class, falling somewhere between Captain Picard and James Bond, and to make matters worse, he was a looker, too; to François, he appeared something out of the Arabian Nights, dark of skin and eyes, and possessed of an air of exotic mystery.
"It is a pleasure indeed to meet you, my boy," David proffered his hand. François stared at it for a moment, until Louis nudged him with an elbow. He shook hands, surprised at the gentleness of the grip. "We've heard a great deal about you from Louis," David said, casting an amused glance at Louis. "There's no need to be nervous, now, just relax." He peered intently into François's eyes, and laughed suddenly. "Captain Picard! Oh, that's too rich." He shook his head, and clapped the boy on the shoulder.
"Hey, cut the kid some slack, Davy." François followed the sound of the voice, to see a young man with ashen hair, standing at the top of the large central staircase. He trotted down the steps lightly, and jumped the last three to land beside François. "So, you must be Frankie," he said, grinning widely.
"François," Louis laughed, rolling his eyes. "May I present Daniel Molloy."
Daniel stuck his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, and slouched, grinning at François all the while, his violet eyes filled with good humor and unquestioning welcome. "Glad to finally see you, kid. Louis's been burning up cyberspace talking about you." He looked over to Louis. "You sure weren't lying, Lou. He's cute as a box of puppies."
François liked him immediately. He found himself grinning back.
"Daniel, if you're quite finished making a fool of yourself?" David asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah," Daniel dismissively waved a hand at David. "Keep your pants on, Davy."
"I've warned you, Daniel," David said menacingly. "Do not call me Davy."
"Yeah, whatever," Daniel turned back to Louis. "Lou, what say you let the kid stay with me for awhile, you can go check out Blondie, and I'll bring him in to you in a bit. I'll give him the nickel tour, okay?"
"I think that will be fine," Louis said, trying desperately keep his composure. Daniel's constant attacks against David's staid, serious persona were the stuff of legend among the coven, and the source of a series of wagers between the two of them. Louis coughed a few times, and managed to swallow the grin that was just below the surface. "I wouldn't mind a few minutes alone with Lestat, just to prepare him. Unless," he looked hopefully to Daniel and David, "you've already told him of François?"
"Uh, not exactly," Daniel said, suddenly finding his fingernails fascinating.
"I'll explain things," David said, taking Louis's arm and leading him back down the hallway.
"I'll stay here," François called after them, grinning at Daniel. "We just left Armand," he said. "He's pretty cool, huh?"
"I've always thought so," Daniel answered absently. He watched as Louis disappeared down the hallway, his face clouding with ineffable sorrow for a brief moment. Then, he shook his head, and grinned again. "So, let me get this straight. You don't know who made you, but you found Louis, and charmed the pants off him."
"I don't know about that," François laughed. "But yeah, I don't know who made me. I wish I did. Armand looked in my head, but he didn't see anything either."
"Hey, I'm the blond around here," Daniel said, tapping François on the forehead. "I bet there's something in there."
"Duh!" François pulled a face. "I mean, he couldn't see who done it." He punched Daniel in the shoulder.
"Yeah, I understand," Daniel apologized, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm just pulling your chain."
"I know," François shrugged. "I don't want to think about that right now. It's kind of weird."
"I can imagine," Daniel agreed. There was an awkward silence. Then, Daniel brightened. "Hey, kid, Louis said your name is Francis Albert, right?"
"Yeah, Francis Albert Gallagher," François sighed. "Why?"
"Just like the Chairman," Daniel said, obviously impressed. "You even got blue eyes! Do you sing?"
"God, that's so original, you know, nobody ever asked me that before!" François rolled his eyes, but smiled just a little, too.
"Sorry, kid," Daniel grinned again, and stored the information away for future reference. Obviously, Louis had not warned the boy about his predilection for affectionate, but often irritating, nick names. "Listen, do you want to see the rest of the place?"
"Sure, I guess," François looked around the foyer, relieved that the name conversation was going no further; he doubted that Daniel was the type to make fun of his initials, but he didn't want to take the chance, all the same. "Kind of empty, isn't it?"
"That's a matter of opinion," Daniel said, taking the boy by the shoulders and steering him to the left, and into the next room. The room was finished in warm tones, carpeting and walls exuding comfort and warmth. He waved his arm expansively. "Okay, see, this room, this is the music room. Note the full size grand piano? We had to tear down an entire wall to get it in here." There was not a stick of furniture to be seen, save for a large jukebox in one corner.
"Uh, Daniel?" François gave him a sideways glance. "There's nothing in here."
"Sure there is, kid," Daniel laughed. "You just got to use your imagination. See, over there," he indicated the opposite wall. "Just look at all those guitars. There must be two hundred hanging there. Lestat has been collecting them since his so-called concert."
"You could never get that many guitars on that wall," François protested, giving his guide a playful shove. "Besides, that's not the guitar wall, it's got - " he paused, thinking hard. "It's the saxophone wall."
"Oh, yeah," Daniel grinned at him. "That's what I said. The guitars are over here." He flipped a thumb behind them.
"I ain't blind, you know," François said, going over to the wall and pretending to take down a guitar. He made a few windmill passes at the air guitar, cocking his head as if listening intently. "Hmm. Out of tune. Better put it back." He carefully mimed hanging it back upon the wall.
"You got the idea now," Daniel laughed, slapping him on the back. "Come on, I'll show you the rest."
They wandered from empty room to empty room, upstairs and down again, coming up with an endless supply of furnishings and decorations. Priceless antiques stood cheek-by-jowl with pinball machines. Beds converted into pool tables. One room was filled with computers and video games. In one of the upper bedrooms, a wall-sized entertainment console, complete with six foot television screen, rose out of the floor with the touch of a row of buttons - but only if one knew the secret code. Secret passages were built in, to facilitate using the entire house as a life-sized playing board for Clue.
Gradually, the descriptions became more elaborate, and the more ridiculous or improbable, the better. In the basement, where a row of elegantly detailed coffins lay, ready for any occupants the following morning, Daniel expounded upon the high-tech, complicated system of sun lamps, "designed to prevent that unsightly pallor!" There was also a hidden room furnished with a virtual reality system, utilizing technology sent from the future, so that they actually had their own personal Holodeck, "just like on the Enterprise." The former dining room was actually a movie theatre, because, as François declared, "it isn't as though they'll have snacks for us at the cineplex, will they?? This put Daniel into hysterics, and it was a few minutes before they could continue. The kitchen was for Mojo, of course, since the rest of the occupants had no need for it. The attics were the location for the Jacuzzi and swimming pool, "just in case Louis gets angry and sets the place on fire."
Eventually, the only room left to explore was the chapel. Daniel hesitated at the door.
"I don't think we need to go in there, kid," he said, trying unsuccessfully to steer François back in the opposite direction. "There's nothing to see, really. It's a pretty boring room."
"Lestat's in there, ain't he?" François asked. "That's why you don't want me to see it, right?"
"Well, yeah," Daniel admitted, scratching his head. "It isn't real nice to see, Frankie. He's . . . sick, you know?
"Armand said he's crazy," the boy responded. "Louis doesn't believe it, I don't think."
"No," the older vampire answered, shaking his head sadly. "I wouldn't think he would. That's Louis for you."
"You tell me something?" François asked, allowing Daniel to lead him away from the chapel door, at least for the moment.
"Sure, kid," Daniel nodded. "Anything."
"Louis says that Lestat won't hurt me, is that true?"
"Wow," Daniel gave a short, humorless laugh. "You don't ask the easy ones, do you? I was thinking along the lines of 'Is there a god, Danny?' or 'What's the meaning of life?', not questions about Lestat."
"So, you think he will?"
"I'm not saying that." They had come full circle, and were now once again in the foyer. Daniel sat on the steps, and patted the step beside him. "I'm only saying, that's a tough question."
"Why?" François dropped down beside him, pulling his knees up to his chin, and crossing his arms over them.
"Because," Daniel shook his head, "Lestat is never that easy to figure. You think he's gonna like something, he'll hate it out of spite. You think he'll hate it, and it will be the best thing he's ever seen."
"So, you think he'll like me?"
"Kid," Daniel reached over and ruffled his hair, "I don't see how anybody couldn't like you, even Lestat." He smiled warmly. "Don't worry, it'll be fine."
"I hope you're right," François sighed. "I'm scared to death he's gonna kill me." He put his head on his arms.
"What!" Daniel was incredulous. "Is that what you're worried about?" He laughed, and slapped François on the back. "Jesus, Frankie! Lestat won't kill you, for Gods sake!"
"You sure?" François eyed him suspiciously.
"Pretty sure," Daniel grinned, and threw an arm around the boy, giving him a firm hug. "He's crazy, yeah, and he's about as predictable as a hurricane, and he has the temper from hell, but kill you? No way. He just ain't like that. You can make bet on that, Frankie-boy. Besides, you got to know by now, Louis would never allow anything happen to you. Neither would Boss, or me. You're part of the family now." He leaned over. "It's like the Mafia, you know," he whispered conspiratorially. "Once you're in, there's no way out."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
François relaxed visibly. Daniel suddenly got an evil gleam in his eyes.
"Of course, there is Gabrielle," he said mysteriously.
"Huh?" François jerked his head around to stare at Daniel, eyes wide. "What do you mean?" he swallowed a few times, nervously.
"Oh, nothing Frankie," Daniel laughed, and poked the boy in the ribs. "I was just kidding you, I didn't mean to scare you. You know she won't do anything to you."
"She won't?" François wasn't sure whether or not to believe him.
"Well, she hasn't done anything yet, has she?"
"I haven't met her yet," François replied. "I don't know if she will."
"You haven't met your Grandma Gabby?" Daniel was incredulous. "Oh, you poor kid! Are you in for a treat. Wait 'til you try her rat cake . . . "
"She's not my - Rat cake! Yeah, right!" François laughed. "Anyway, she's not my grandma. She's Lestat's mom, right?"
"Yes, and Lestat made Louis."
"So?"
"Oh, yeah," Daniel nodded. "I guess that would make her your great-grandma." He flashed François an exceptionally goofy grin, hoping to make him laugh. It worked. François countered with a silly grin of his own, and it soon escalated into a contest. After a few minutes, they had laughed themselves into near exhaustion, falling back to lie panting on the steps.
"Feel better now, Frankie?" Daniel asked, sitting up.
"Yeah," he nodded, also pulling himself to an upright position. "I think I want to go see him, though."
"You sure, kid?" Daniel was serious now. "I mean, you don't have to go in there, you know."
"I know," François said, biting his lower lip. "But I think Louis needs me. I can feel it. He's -" he groped for words. "He's really upset, he's worried, he's really, really scared."
"You can read his mind?" Daniel asked, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
"Yeah, I guess so," François shrugged. "I don't know how I do it, I don't know why it happens even, but a couple of times it's happened. I kind of hear his voice in my head, only he's not here."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Daniel shook out one cigarette, and lit it, sucking the smoke deeply into his lungs. "God, that feels good," he exhaled with a satisfied sigh. "Yeah, I know what that feels like. Boss used to do that to me all the time, before he did the Deed."
"You mean, bit you, all that?"
"Born to Darkness, the way Louis put it," he grinned again, taking another drag on the cigarette. "So I guess, if you can hear him, that pretty much cinches it that Louis didn't make you. Not that anyone believed that, anyway." He flicked the ashes into the cuff of his jeans.
"So he really won't make any?" François asked, wondering Daniel kept his pants from bursting into flame. "Hey, I thought we couldn't do that mortal stuff like that."
"What, this?" He indicated the cigarette. "Sure we can. We can smell stuff, we can breathe air. It's just air with a little kick." He laughed. "Just between you and me, though, kid, it really isn't the best idea."
"Oh, great, here comes the lecture," François rolled his eyes. "I already heard it before. Just Say No, all that."
"No, it isn't that," Daniel laughed, and took another long drag, closing his eyes to savor the smoke. "But you know, we're kind of flammable."
"Jesus!" François jumped up, and moved away a few feet to stand before him. "You crazy or something?"
"Relax," Daniel grinned, and flicked another ash into the cuff, rubbing it with his finger to make sure it was out. "I'm kidding you. The sun, yeah, and if we're caught in a burning building, that can do some serious damage. But a cigarette? Nope."
"Oh." François looked in the direction of the chapel. "I really think I ought to go to Louis. He needs me."
"Okay, if you insist." Daniel stood up, and walked to the door, flipping the butt outside. "Come on, let's get this over with." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, and they went to the chapel.
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Thirteen
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