Foster Fledgling
Chapter Thirteen
They stepped inside, and François was immediately impressed. Even at this late hour, the beauty of the stained glass was breathtaking.
"Frankie," Daniel said softly, taking his arm. "This way. Louis is over here."
There were dusty velvet chairs lining the walls, and a figure sat in one, his head in his hands. David stood to one side, his hand on Louis's shoulder.
François went over and knelt in front of him. "Louis?"
"Yes, p'tit?" Louis raised his head, and François could see that he'd been crying. The streaks of the blood tears were dried now, but from the intensity and the stains on his shirt collar, it was obvious that he'd been weeping for some time.
"Louis, I'm sorry," François said, taking his hands and kissing them. "Tell me, what can I do to make it better?"
"Nothing, François," Louis shook his head. "I don't think you can do anything." He rose to his feet, and straightened his clothing, taking a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiping his face. "There, that's better." He neatly folded the bit of linen and tucked it back into the pocket. He took a couple of deep breaths, and drew François into an embrace.
"I'm fine, p'tit," he said, kissing the top of François's head. "I'm glad you're here. There are some people I want you to meet." He held the boy out at arm's length, looking him over carefully. He sniffed twice, and gave Daniel a foul look. "Daniel, you know better," he muttered. Then, he shook his head. "Well. You look none the worse for being in the care of that incompetent. Come along."
He led the way across the room to where two figures stood, talking quietly. They turned as Louis and François approached. A stunningly beautiful woman, with flowing red hair and the palest of pale skin smiled at them, holding out her hand to the boy.
"This is our new little one," she said, reaching out to touch his face. "So young, you certainly were not exaggerating, Louis." She smiled warmly at François. "Little one, François. I am Maharet. We're glad to have you as part of the family." She bent and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thanks," he said, a bit awed. He thought she was one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen, even if her eyes did look a bit blood-shot. She laughed lightly, and took his hand, turning him to face her companion.
"François, this is Marius."
François turned to the tall, fair man. The Roman was much taller and far more imposing than he'd expected, and somehow made François feel guilty, as though he'd done something wrong and had been caught out.
"Come now, boy, I'm not that bad, am I?" Marius laughed lightly, and reached out to clap François on the shoulder. "Relax, boy. I won't bite you." He turned to Louis. "Is he always this nervous, or is this a special occasion?"
"You are a bit intimidating, Marius," Louis replied mildly.
"Nonsense," Marius said with a small smile.
"Hey, if you guys are done scaring Frankie to death," Daniel said, joining them, "he'd kind of like to meet Blondie."
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Louis said quickly. "Not tonight."
"I think it's a very good idea," came a soft voice from the shadows. A figure in khaki, only a little taller than François, with dusty blond hair pulled back from the face, came forward. "There is no reason not to let him. It isn't as if my son is going to harm him, for Gods sake."
"Well, Frankie, lucky you," Daniel chuckled, stepping over to quickly embrace the small woman. "If it isn't Granny Gabby."
"Some night, I shall have to kill you," Gabrielle said, allowing Daniel to kiss her. She pushed him away with a little shove, and looked François up and down. "Come along, child," she said, taking François by the hand, and nodding to Louis to follow. They walked up to the front of the chapel.
"Gabrielle, I think this is a big mistake," Louis said. She shot him a stern look, and he sighed, giving up; there simply was no arguing with a de Lioncourt, even one by marriage.
They came up to the steps, and there a figure lay, curled into a fetal position, his mane of blond hair spread out over the floor. François felt behind him for Louis, who took his hand.
"Lestat," Gabrielle said softly. "Lestat, turn around here. There's someone who would like to see you."
"I don't want to see anyone, Mother," came the whispered response. "I only want Louis. I want Louis to come back."
"I'm here, cheri," Louis said hoarsely. "I had to go away for a bit, but I'm back now. I'm sorry." He let loose of François's hand, and moved forward to kneel beside his maker. He reached out, and smoothed Lestat's hair. "It's going to be alright. I promise you. I won't let anyone harm you."
"You promise?" Lestat moved, and slowly rolled over, and grasped Louis's hands.
"Of course, Lestat," he replied. "I would never lie to you, you know that."
"Yes, Louis. You were always so good to me. I've never appreciated you as I should. I've been such a bastard. How can you even stand to look at me?" He sat up slowly, and crossed his legs.
"I could look at you forever, mon vieux, you know that," Louis said softly. "You were, and still are, the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."
"Even with this?" He indicated his left eye, which was squeezed tightly shut. "Even so horribly mutilated?"
"Lestat, mon cher, your eye is fine. Remember, I told you before. It's just a bad dream." He leaned forward and brushed the hair away from Lestat's face.
"A bad dream?" Lestat repeated. "But, Louis, it's gone. I can feel it, it's gone." He moved one trembling hand to his face.
"No, my darling," Louis shook his head, smiling gently. "It's your imagination. You're very ill. Give it time, it will heal. We always do, remember?"
"Yes, Louis," Lestat sighed, and reached out to grab Louis's hand. "We always heal. And now I have the strongest blood of all, don't I?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Louis agreed. "Darling, there is someone I want you to meet. He's a good friend of mine. I want you to promise not to frighten him, will you do that?"
"A friend?" Lestat scowled, which with the tightly shut eye made his face seem grotesquely comical. "You brought a friend here, Louis? Why."
"Don't be afraid, Lestat," Louis said, quietly. "He cannot harm you. He's just a child. He needs your help."
"I am still the most powerful of us, aren't I?" Lestat said, a hint of his old bravado creeping into his voice. "I am still the Vampire Lestat."
"Yes, of course you are," Louis said, smiling lovingly. "The one and only. The envy of millions."
"Oh, Louis, don't be jealous," Lestat said, wagging a finger. "You know you are the most beautiful creature, even if you aren't me."
"Oh, Lestat," Louis sighed. "You mustn't say such things. Now, please, I want you to meet my friend, will you do that for me? You don't have to be afraid, I'm here with you."
"Alright, Louis," he sighed, and nodded weakly. "As long as you are here with me."
"Good," Louis smiled, and turned around to gesture to François.
François had been standing behind Louis, half hidden in the shadows with Gabrielle. He had unconsciously taken her hand, and was holding it so tightly that she had nearly lost all feeling in it. He looked back at Gabrielle, who extricated her hand, and nodded. He stepped forward, so that he was within Lestat's line of sight.
"Uh, hi Lestat," François said, staring at the most famous vampire in the modern world. "I'm, um, Frankie, I mean, François."
Lestat stared at him, and said nothing for a full minute. Then, he began to tremble, and pointed a shaking finger at François. "My God, my God," he cried, tears streaming down his face. "Please, dear God, don't let it be so. Please, if you love me at all, bring him back. Keep my eye if you have to, but bring him back." He buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.
François stood, frozen, staring at Lestat. "I didn't do anything," he whispered, shaking his head. "I swear, I don't know what he's talking about. I didn't do anything."
Louis looked from Lestat to François, and back again, his eyes wide with confusion. "Lestat, cher, what is it? What is wrong, please, you must tell me," he said, finally. He shot a look to Gabrielle, who quickly hustled François away from the front of the chapel.
They kept going until they were outside the chapel, Daniel shutting the door behind them. From inside, they could hear Lestat's cries, and the muffled sounds of the others trying to calm him.
Daniel immediately came up beside François, and put his arms around him. "Hey, kid, it isn't your fault," he said, holding him tightly. "You didn't do anything."
"I know, I know," François said. "I didn't do anything. So why did he freak like that?"
"He is mad," Gabrielle said tiredly. "I thought for a moment there, he was going to be himself again." She leaned dejectedly against the wall.
"I don't understand, what's wrong with him?" François asked. "What was he talking about, bring who back?"
"Armand," Daniel sighed. "He thinks Boss killed himself. He apparently got some bad blood, from that dealer guy most likely."
"He is mad," Gabrielle repeated. She sat down on the floor, and put her head in her hands.
None of them said anything for a moment. They could still hear Lestat, screaming inside.
"Lies, lies, lies!" he screamed. "What metal is it you think can bind me, cast me down! Damn you, lies! You didn't see him. He didn't give you this!"
There was the sound of things breaking, and the sound of metal clanking. Suddenly, they heard Louis's voice, raised above the din. "No, Maharet, no, please, I beg you. Don't do this." He sounded as if his heart were breaking. "Please, I will take care of him, I will do whatever is necessary. Do not do this thing, please, Great Mother, do not do this to Lestat. No!"
The chapel door opened suddenly, and Louis flew out the door as if thrown, the door slamming shut behind him. François broke away from Daniel, and ran to Louis's side, helping him to his feet and embracing him.
"I can't believe they're doing this to him," Louis wept, holding tightly to François. Daniel and Gabrielle came over, one on either side, and together they walked back out to the foyer.
"What?" François asked, reaching up to wipe Louis's face. "What happened, Louis?"
"They're chaining him up," David said, walking out to join them. "Maharet and Marius, they've chained him so he cannot hurt himself, and they're putting him in the cellar, locking him in a room."
"It is the only way," Gabrielle sighed. "Louis, you must calm yourself. It is the only way."
"I don't believe you," Louis said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Your own son. You let them do that, you knew that they would."
"It isn't forever, Louis," David said kindly. "It's only for a little while, until he comes to his senses."
"I'm sorry, Louis," François said, weeping himself now. "It was all my fault, I made him go crazy."
"Hush, p'tit," Louis said. "It was not your doing. It is just from that man he was stalking. That drug lord." He reached up to take his handkerchief out of his pocket again, and wiped François's face, then his own.
"But, the child has a point, Louis," Gabrielle said suddenly. "He's right. Lestat was calm, until he saw François."
"Yeah, well, he thinks he saw God, too," Daniel said defensively. "He thinks he drank from Jesus Christ Himself. Frankie didn't have anything to do with that, did he?"
"I suppose you're right," the former Marquise replied, sitting on the steps.
"Of course not," David said. "How could the boy have anything to do with that?" He looked at François curiously. "Or could he?" He looked to Gabrielle, who blinked a few times.
"Of course," she murmured, her eyes growing wide. She looked intently at François, and nodded slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis said angrily, wrapping his arms protectively around François. "He had nothing to do with this. He's never met Lestat before."
"Yeah, I have, Louis," François said quietly. Louis stared at him, shocked.
"He didn't drink from Jesus, Louis. He drank from me."
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Fourteen
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