Foster Fledgling
Chapter Twenty
"I didn't know you could drive," François said as he settled into the seat.
"Of course I can drive," Louis replied. "I don't usually need to, but as I said, it's a bit too cold for you. Here, you must fasten you seat belt, it isn't safe to ride without it." He reached over, and pulled the strap over François, snapping it into the buckle. "There, is that too tight?"
"No, it's okay," François shrugged. "Daniel didn't use the seat belts."
"Oh, Daniel." Louis shook his head. "He is not always the most . . . careful man."
"Well, I like him." François squirmed in his seat. "Wait a minute, I think I'm sitting on something."
"What is it? Do you need to get out of the car?" Louis hoped not; it was getting late, and he didn't want to delay going home any longer than necessary. He fastened his own safety belt, and started the engine.
François slid forward slightly, and reached beneath him. "Oh, I forgot!" He pulled out something and handed it to Louis. "It's a present for you. I got it for you when we stopped for gas."
Louis looked at François's gift. It was a billed cap, in bilious green and neon yellow, constructed of what appeared to be plastic mesh. On the front was emblazoned the legend "Nothing Runs Like A Deere" in the same gaudy colors. It was quite possibly the most hideously ugly article of clothing he had ever seen; considering Lestat's often dubious tastes, that was saying a lot.
"Do you like it?" François asked eagerly.
Louis thought a moment before responding. He looked at François, who smiled back at him with such affection; it was obvious that François had given him this monstrosity out of love, and would undoubtedly be hurt if Louis didn't seem to appreciate his gift. He was just a child, after all, and probably didn't realize how inappropriate it was. Louis took comfort in the fact that eventually, François could be taught sartorial propriety; Lestat was beyond all hope in that respect. Inwardly, Louis sighed; he'd just have to use the same strategy he used with Lestat in similar circumstances.
"This is very kind of you, François," Louis said, finally. "Thank you for thinking of me." He reached over, and ruffled the boy's hair. François grinned back at him, and Louis started the car and pulled out of the courtyard.
"Louis, look at the snow!" François pointed out the window at the flakes blowing around the street lamps. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Yes, it's beautiful," Louis agreed. "I don't care for driving in it. I'd hate to have to drive out to Pointe du Lac in this."
"Pointe du Lac?" François asked. "I thought that was burned a long time ago."
"Well, yes it was," Louis replied, braking lightly to allow a streetcar to pass. "It was burned to the ground, a long time ago." He touched the accelerator and they moved off again. "But I built a new house, in a different place, and gave it the same name."
"Oh. That's kind of nice, huh?" Frankie toyed with the hat, and eventually put it on, back-to-front.
"Yes, it was a bit self-indulgent, I suppose, to call it that. Still, I always regretted burning it."
Suddenly, they hit a slick patch, and the car began to slide sideways, giving him a moment's panic. The car fishtailed for a few feet before coming to a slow stop; fortunately, there were no other vehicles around, and they had not slid far enough to hit any street lamps or other objects. No harm done. Still, it was unnerving; Daniel was obsessive about his collection, and the MG was one of his favorites. Louis didn't want to think about trying to explain how he'd managed to totally destroy the vintage automobile just driving across town. Then, too, there was François to think about; what if he'd been injured? What if he'd been killed? How could he live with that? He couldn't bear to lose another child.
"Louis?"
François was speaking to him. He woke from his frantic musings.
"Yes?"
"Are we stopped here for some reason?" François pointed to the traffic light ahead of them. "It's green, we can go now."
"Oh, yes, sorry." Louis shifted back into gear, and pressed the accelerator. They moved ahead, but considerably slower than they'd previously run. "This kind of weather is so nerve-wracking to drive in. I never should have borrowed Daniel's car. We should have taken a taxi."
"I like this car better," François said, running his hands over the leather of the seats. "It's pretty, and it's really fast, too."
"What do you know about it being fast?" Louis asked, the suspicion evident in his tone. "How far did Daniel take you tonight? And how fast was he driving?"
"Louis, what does it mean?" François said, a little too quickly. "Pointe du Lac, I mean. What does that mean in English?"
"It means, point of the lake, a piece of land on a lake." Louis gave him a quick glance, only taking his eyes from the road for a few seconds. The rapid change of subject was answer enough; he'd have to have words with Daniel later. "It was our name before we left France."
"You were born in France?" François asked. "I thought you were born here."
"I came to Louisiana when I was very young, but I remember the trip," Louis replied. "It took a long time, and I remember thinking it was very funny that we left France in the autumn, and when we arrived here, the weather was warm. Unlike tonight," he added, under his breath.
"I bet you can remember a whole lot of stuff, can't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so," Louis laughed. "You can accumulate a lot of memories when you've lived as long as I have."
They drove past the Royale Street house, and François looked at Louis curiously. "Why didn't we stop?"
"There is no carriage house, I mean, garage, there," Louis replied. "I have another property not far away, we'll leave Daniel's car there." They traveled a little further, and presently stopped before a warehouse near the river, a large, squarish building running the length of the block. Louis reached into the glove compartment, and took out what looked to François like a small, black remote control. He pressed a button, and a large section of the building's wall slid open. Louis drove into the building, and the door slid shut behind them. He drove to the back of the building, and into a large freight elevator. He pressed another button on the remote, the elevator gate closed behind them, and after pressing another button, they were lifted up to the top story of the building. The movement stopped, and the gate opened again. Louis smoothly backed the car out and around, and drove to the other side of the building, where numerous dark shapes lurked.
Louis pulled up to an empty space, and shut down the engine. "Here we are. It's not a long walk at all from here."
"This place is huge!" François exclaimed, as he climbed out of the car. "It's like the Superdome!"
"I don't think it's quite that large," Louis laughed, joining Francois and putting an arm around his shoulders. "The other floors are used by one of my businesses, but this floor is only accessible to us." They began walking back toward the elevator.
"Wow," François stopped, and ran his hand over the finish of a sleek, black car parked next to the MG. "Corvette Stingray," François read, touching the logo admiringly. There was another identical Stingray next to it, and two Ferraris, in rich emerald and deep midnight blue respectively, beyond it. They passed a long-nosed Jaguar, in a deep rich, burgundy red, and François marveled at the leaping cat on the hood, stroking the chromium with his finger. Next to it was a black Porsche that looked for all the world like a crouching panther, and a trio of stretch limousines with mirrored windows. They passed four Mercedes Benzes, all completely identical save that each was a different color. Nearly every sports car François had ever heard of was represented - Mustang, GTO, Trans-Am, Lamborhini, Thunderbird, and others even he didn't recognize. All were black and with tinted windows; in fact, all the cars he passed had either tinted or mirrored glass. François commented on this.
"It is a matter of security, I suppose you could say," Louis said, as François made faces into the windows. "Mortals can't see inside. Sometimes, street lights make our skin look a bit . . . unnatural."
"We glow in the dark," François grinned.
"Yes," Louis grinned back at him, and realized that in the harsh lights of the warehouse, they both were doing exactly that. "We glow in the dark."
François noticed that all of the cars had license plate starting with either LPL or LL, then a two digit number. He knew how expensive customized license plates were; he'd only ever known three cars with plates like those, and they'd all been owned by his mother's drug-dealing friends. "Do you own all of these cars, Louis?"
"Some are mine, but most are Lestat's," Louis replied. "Those are his." He pointed to a brace of massive Harleys. "Lestat's idea," Louis shook his head. "I was scared to death of the damned things at first." He laughed softly. "Lestat claims it's just like riding a horse, but horses were never anything like this. Still, it is closer to riding a horse than driving a car. I think that's why I enjoy them."
"Can I sit on one?" François asked, staring at the hulking black machines. "Please? I promise I'll be careful."
"Certainly," Louis nodded. "I'll hold it, I don't want it to fall on you." He grabbed hold of the back of the seat, holding it steady as François swung his leg over the bike.
"Wow, this is too cool!" François gripped the handlebars, and put his feet on the pegs. "I wish I could drive one of these," he said.
"That's out of the question," Louis said sternly. "It's far too dangerous, especially for a child like you. No, François, I can't allow that." He smiled slightly. "Perhaps someday. But not now. You're too young."
François made a face, and then shrugged. "Okay," he said, and then proceeded to make revving noises, leaning over the handlebars.
Louis watched him play, and marveled again at the human capacity for adaptation. True, François was no longer human, in the strictest sense, but some things remained the same, mortal or immortal. François was a vampire, and a successful one - more successful than himself, Louis thought with dark humor. He could kill, and do it with consummate skill, and aside from those first pangs of guilt, do it without so much as a second thought. Yet, he was little different from other mortal boys his age, from what Louis knew of them. Louis had seen how his eyes grew wide at the sight of the array of automobiles and the motorcycles; neither had he missed the way François's eyes followed any pretty woman they passed when walking together. He seriously doubted that it was completely normal for a fifteen year old boy to play at make-believe, as François was doing - even in his own time, most young men at that age had abandoned toys for more serious pursuits. Louis had some little thought that quite possibly it was not an entirely healthy pastime. Then again, François's mortal life had not been anything remotely normal, and being a vampire was not a commonplace thing, either. Louis had told everyone that he wanted to give François a childhood, and if that included allowing him to play, well, that was not such a bad thing.
As Louis stood there, he had a sudden inspiration. Obviously, a motorcycle was far too dangerous for a child - it was dangerous for adults, for that matter, and especially for certain two-hundred-year-old vampires with a complete lack of common sense - but a bicycle, perhaps now, that was an idea. That would not be dangerous, not for one of their kind. Seeing how he played on the motorcycle, Louis was certain that François would enjoy such a gift. Louis saw youngsters riding bicycles all over the Quarter during the warmer months, even at night. It would allow François some semblance of mortal life, as well. He wondered if the boy had ever owned a bicycle; well, no matter, he could have one now. But, that could wait.
"François, cher, that's enough for tonight, it's getting late."
"Okay, Louis. Can I play with it again, sometime?"
"Of course, but not tonight. Come along, now."
François climbed off the Hog, and followed Louis across the large room. He could see numerous other vehicles parked in the warehouse, some ordinary models, nothing spectacular, but well maintained all the same, and many more which François recognized as being astronomically expensive. He thought it looked very much like a parking lot for an expensive, exclusive club. As he followed Louis into the elevator, it suddenly hit him how ironically well that description fit. They were an exclusive group, his newly found family - and it had cost him his very life to join.
Louis pressed a series of buttons on a keypad beside the floor buttons, the gates closed, and in a matter of moments they were on the street, walking towards Royale Street and home. There were very few people out on the streets; the locals, unaccustomed to the severe weather, had fled for warm homes, and any tourists had long ago abandoned their wanderings, heading for their hotels and hot drinks.
They paused for a few minutes at the gates of Jackson Square, watching the rare sight of snow falling on General Jackson's statue, and marveling at the tiny patches of white on the steeple of the cathedral. The old city was deserted, and combined with the absence of taxis and buses, the sight was eerily beautiful.
"Is this what it looked like before, Louis?" François asked, moving to stand close beside the elder vampire. "Back when you were mortal?"
"Something very like it," Louis replied. Looking at the old square, the buildings and the cathedral, the benches, it was all very much the same as it had been during those long, gas lit nights of the nineteenth century. "A bit later than that, actually. But, yes, it does."
"We going in tonight?" François asked, gazing up at the cathedral clock. "There's still some time, I think."
"Not tonight," Louis shook his head. "I think we've done enough for one night. Tomorrow night, perhaps, if you wish." He put his arm around François, hugging him close, and planting a kiss on his head. "Besides, Mojo probably misses us."
They hurried through the empty streets, and within minutes were back inside the old town house. François romped on the floor with Mojo while Louis got a fire blazing in the hearth, and before long, they were all warmed through.
"François?" Louis called, as he settled into one of the chairs before the hearth. "Please leave Mojo for a bit, and come in here."
Presently, François dropped into the chair beside Louis, and Mojo curled up on the carpet before them. "This is nice, Louis," François said, spreading his hands before the blaze. "It feels good."
"That is one thing that makes such weather tolerable," Louis agreed, stretching out his long legs, and rubbing Mojo absently with one foot. The dog moved closer to the convenient foot, while simultaneously staying as close as possible to the fire; it was something he did often, and it never ceased to amaze Louis at the animal's ingenuity.
"He's got it good," François commented, grinning.
"Yes, and he knows it," Louis agreed, smiling. "François, I wanted to discuss something with you. This is very important, and I need you to listen carefully."
"Okay, Louis," François pulled his feet up into the chair, and wrapped his arms around his knees.
"Good." Louis smiled back at him. "You know where I was tonight, I assume?"
"Yeah," François nodded. "You had to stay with Lestat. He's, um, sick."
"Yes," Louis sighed. No time to think about that now. "Lestat is not well, and it's unlikely that he'll be himself again very soon. You understand, don't you, that I must stay with him?"
François was quiet for a moment, and then nodded again. "I understand. You're his fledgling, and he needs you there."
"Yes, that's part of it." Louis noticed that François had picked up the terminology very quickly; no doubt spending the evening with Armand and Daniel had had something to do with that. Then, too, François was a fast learner. "Lestat is my maker, and he's also my friend. I love him very much." He paused, unsure of how to continue. This was delicate ground he treaded, and the last thing he wanted was to make François feel unwanted or unimportant to him.
"I know, Louis, and it's okay," François said, his voice gentle. "I know you have to be with him. I miss you, but I understand." He looked Louis straight in the eyes. "I'm not jealous, if that's what you think. Honest, I'm not."
Louis breathed a sigh of relief. "You do realize how very important you are to me, François?" He gave the boy a smile. "You are every bit as much a part of my life now, as Lestat."
"Really?" François's eyes were wide with wonder. "You really mean that, don't you."
Louis nodded. "Yes, as I told you, you're my child now. I will take care of you. And that includes seeing to your welfare."
"What do you mean?" François asked. "You've been taking care of me, I mean," he shifted in the chair, leaning closer to Louis. "Like, tonight. You were with Lestat, but you had Daniel take me out. You are taking care of me, and besides," he gave Louis a curious look, "the Welfare people can't know about us, can they?"
"The welfare people?" Louis stared at him, puzzled, for a moment. Then, he understood. "Oh, no, not that kind of welfare," he laughed. "No, I mean, your upbringing. Specifically, your education."
"I have to go to school?" Now it was François's turn to look puzzled. "But, they don't have school at night."
"Not public schools, of course," Louis replied. "But, you will have lessons."
"Oh," François said. "Well, if I can't go to school, how?"
"I'd thought to teach you myself," Louis said. "But I think under the present circumstances, it might work better if some of the others taught you. Marius has had considerable experience as a tutor, and David."
"Marius and David?" François sounded less than enthused; Louis pretended not to notice.
"Yes. Marius offered to help with your lessons, as did David, when I first told everyone of you, and I believe I shall take them up on the offer."
"I'd rather have you do it," François said softly. "I mean, not that I don't like them, they're okay," he shrugged. "I like them fine, but I'd rather be with you."
"I know," Louis smiled. "And I'd much rather teach you myself. And I will, at least, some of the time, but for now, I think this will be better. This way, I can spend part of the night with Lestat, and part of the night with you."
"Oh, I see." François nodded, and smiled back. "Well, that's okay, then. Yeah, I think that will work out pretty good."
"Well, François, not good," Louis corrected. "And you really shouldn't say yeah, you should say yes."
"Oh, sorry."
"I can see we'll need to make sure David starts in on grammar," Louis laughed. "I must say, your tutors will undoubtedly be much more interesting than mine were. I enjoyed studying, but I didn't care for their lectures. Or," he rolled his eyes, "their switches."
"Switches?" François asked, furrowing his brow. "You mean, you got a whipping?"
"Oh, yes," Louis made a face. "It was commonly considered to be a necessary part of a child's education in those days."
"My God," François shook his head. "That was one thing I guess I had better, at least my teachers didn't beat me. It was bad enough my mom did."
"Come here, p'tit," Louis said, holding out his arm. François clambered out of the chair, and stood beside Louis, who slipped an arm around the boy's waist. "François, I promise you, you will never be beaten. Not by me, not by Marius or David, nor anyone else. I won't allow it. Besides," he hugged him close, "you're a good boy, I know that. And you're very bright, I know you'll enjoy learning."
"I won't have to cut up a frog, will I?" François grimaced. "We had to do that in school, and I about threw up."
"No, I don't think that will be necessary," Louis replied. "I doubt that such a thing would be very useful to your life."
"I never thought it was anyway," François shook his head. "So, when do I start?"
"Hmm. I haven't made any arrangements with Marius or David yet, so I suppose for tomorrow night we'll have to find something else to occupy you." He put a hand to his chin, and thought for a moment. "Yes, I believe we'll need a few nights to acquire the proper materials." He smiled at the boy again. "For now, we'll find more pleasant diversions. I know Daniel and Armand will be around for some time, I think they wouldn't mind too much keeping you company."
"Cool!" François's eyes lit up. "I hope we get to ride in the MG again."
Suddenly, Louis remembered François's earlier comment about speed. "Then again, I know Khayman was looking forward to meeting you."
"Khayman?" François furrowed his brow, trying to recall the names he'd read in Lestat's various books. "Oh, the one who forgot stuff?"
"Yes, but you shouldn't say such things to him, that happened a long time ago, and anyway, it isn't polite. But, yes, he is the oldest of all of us." Louis smiled suddenly. "He is the oldest, and you are the youngest."
"He's the one who made the Twins," François said, with some awe. "That's so hard to believe, that they lived so long ago."
"He'll be glad to tell you all about it, if you ask him," Louis said. "He tells wonderful stories. So does David, if we can ever pull him away from those books."
"Book!" François jumped up, and ran off into the kitchen, followed by Mojo. In a few moments, they returned, Mojo with a large dog biscuit and François with a paper sack. "I almost forgot, we got this for you tonight."
Louis took the sack, hoping that it was not another gift like the cap. He looked inside, and was surprised to find a copy of Life On The Mississippi. It was an old book, and upon inspection, he discovered it was a first edition, and autographed.
"François, this is lovely," he said, leafing through the pages. "This is so very thoughtful of you. Wherever did you find it?"
"Well, I told Armand and Daniel that I wanted to get you something you'd like," François explained, sitting on the floor in front of Louis's chair. "They said you liked old books like this, and Armand knew where one was, so we went and got it. Oh, and don't worry, we paid for it." He reached into the sack, and pulled out a paper receipt. "See?" He waved the receipt in the air.
"François, this is so wonderful." Louis felt tears coming to his eyes, and quickly sought out his handkerchief. "What a beautiful gift. Thank you, thank you so much." He bent and kissed the boy's forehead.
"I just wanted to do something nice for you, since you've been so good to me," François explained.
"François." Louis found himself unable to speak, and instead pulled François into his lap, holding him close, and kissing his face. François returned the embrace, and squeezed Louis so hard that he had difficulty breathing. He didn't care.
For tonight, it was enough to simply sit together. Louis began to read from the book, and François listened attentively, genuinely enjoying the story as much as Louis did. Some time before sunrise, when François's eyelids began to droop, and the yawns came more frequently, they closed the book for the night, and after sending Mojo to his post in the kitchen, went upstairs.
As he tucked François up in the bed, Louis suddenly felt better than he had since the night before. He knew, somehow, that things would be alright. Lestat would recover, as he always did from one of his adventures. Until he did, Louis would spend half of each evening at his side, doing whatever he could to ease his love's mind back to reality. The rest of each night, however, would belong to François, and Louis would make certain that the child - his child - knew how very cherished he was.
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Twenty One
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