Foster Fledgling
Chapter Twenty-one
The next night Louis awoke in good spirits, and was somewhat relieved to see that François had as well. He hadn't really thought that the boy would be upset by their discussion, but the possibility had occurred to him. Louis knew he'd been neglecting him, and while it couldn't be helped, it did worry him that François might feel slighted. With that in mind, he decided to do something special to make up for it.
They hunted together. François was fully capable of hunting on his own, as he'd ably demonstrated, and despite the undeniable affection he felt for him, Louis was not comfortable having an audience for this most private aspect of his existence. Still, the minimal discomfort he felt was less important than the security it would give to François. This was done quickly, and to Louis's satisfaction, quite efficiently.
They returned to the warehouse to retrieve Daniel's car; Louis wanted to venture a bit beyond his usual haunts, and anyway, the weather was still foul, and unsuitable for walking. They drove out to one of the massive, modern shopping malls far removed from the familiar comforts of the Quarter. Louis had been dragged there by Lestat far too many times, much to his enduring dismay, and had spent several long hours wandering around shops while Lestat indulged in rampant consumerism.
As they walked through the cavernous building, François seemed content to walk by Louis's side, never straying very far, only pausing occasionally to look into a shop window. It occurred to Louis that the boy had probably never had much opportunity to do more than window shop; that would be remedied soon enough. He himself was not over fond of shopping, and tended to avoid such places unless he had specific items in mind. Tonight was one such night.
They stopped before a store that sold electronic equipment. He led them inside, relieved that at least there were not many other customers about. What he had in mind would undoubtedly draw attention to them, and the fewer mortals who noticed them, the better.
"Since I haven't made any arrangements yet with Marius or David, I'm afraid there won't be much for you to do tonight," Louis said. "I don't want you to be bored later on, when I'm with Lestat."
"That's okay, Louis," François said, staring at the bank of televisions lining one wall. "I can always watch TV."
"Yes, well, I expect you'll get tired of that fairly soon. This is going to be something I'll be doing every night, and you can only watch so much television, after all."
François thought about telling Louis that such a thing was unlikely, but decided against it. Louis obviously had some plan, and so far, François had not had cause to complain about his arrangements. "I guess you're right," he said. "There's not a lot on that early in the morning anyway."
"That's been my experience, too," Louis replied. They stopped before a large display of video games and systems. "What about something like this? I know there is an entire club on the Night Island that is filled with these."
François blinked a few times, surprised at the question. He'd thought Louis had stopped here to buy him a Walkman or the like. "Sure! I love video games. I didn't know you had one."
"I don't, I'm afraid," Louis shook his head. "But that's why we're here. Why don't you may pick out whatever you wish, get a few different games, as many as you like. I'll see about getting the necessary equipment."
"As many as I want? Really?" François was wide eyed with surprise. "You mean that?"
"Of course," Louis smiled. "Whatever you want. You look through these, and I'll locate someone to help us."
François began looking over the various games, and Louis disappeared into the crowd, returning a few minutes later with a young man in tow. The clerk explained the merits of each system, while Louis listened attentively and François made his selections; he finally settled on four games, figuring that it would take him some time to get bored with them. When the clerk had finished his spiel, Louis selected the newest, largest, most extensive - and expensive - system. They went to the front, the clerk rang up their purchases, and much to François's surprise, Louis pulled out plastic to pay for it. When it was all finished, Louis graciously thanked the young man for his help, François grabbed up the bags, and they left.
François had thought that they were going straight back to the townhouse then, but Louis led him further into the mall. They stopped at a music store, a book store, and a video store, each time Louis giving François free rein to choose whatever he wished. By the time they finally headed back to where they'd entered, their arms were filled with sacks and boxes. They'd nearly reached the exit when Louis stopped, and led François down another direction.
"I thought you might like to look in here," Louis said, stopping in front of a large toy store. "To be honest, I'm not really very sure what children your age like to do. But since we're here, I thought we might as well stop."
François looked at Louis, and then into the huge store. He wasn't sure what to do. He certainly was not the child that he knew Louis believed him to be, or wanted him to be, or needed him to be. As much as he loved Louis, François had known, almost from the beginning, that in some way, Louis found in him a replacement for Claudia. He'd never admit it, of course, and François would never dream of saying anything about it, but it was there. François could live with that; after all, hadn't he found in Louis a replacement for the father he'd never had? Father, mother, brother, all those things, and he did love Louis, that was undeniable. Could he be the child Louis needed? Did he want to be that child?
He had survived, pretty much on his own, for a long time, and even before he'd been given the Dark Gift, he had seen far too much of the evil side of life; sometimes he felt like he was fifty, not fifteen. He had very few good memories of his earlier life. Where other children could recall their first bike, or a special birthday, or Christmas mornings, François had no such happy memories. Oh, he had memories, that much was true. He could vividly recall the time his mother had knocked out two of his teeth. He could remember being told by a teacher that it was his birthday, and feeling like an idiot that he hadn't known it before. And of course, there was the Christmas that his mother had forgotten him entirely, and had left him alone in their cold apartment while she went off with her boyfriend of the moment. Oh, yes, François had childhood memories; he just didn't have the childhood to go with it.
He looked at the toy store again. It was the kind of place he used to dream about when he was small, seeing the ads on television for toys that he knew he'd never have. Would it hurt him, he wondered, to pick out a few toys? He was fifteen years old, true, and he possessed most of the normal interests and urges of boys his age; he liked girls, even though they tended to terrify him. He liked cars, he liked comic books, he liked music and TV, and he liked the books Lestat and Louis had written, even if he didn't quite understand everything in them. But a part of him still wanted to run into that store, and walk up and down the aisles, and play with the toys he'd never had as a kid. And the more he thought about it, the more he thought, why not? He had no peers to ridicule him, to shame him for indulging in childish games. That realization struck him; he was not a mortal boy, he didn't have to worry about what anyone else thought about his actions.
He looked back at Louis, who had settled onto the convenient bench, and was smiling at him. Louis had given him a home, a family, had spent a huge amount of money on him just tonight alone, had taken him in and for no good reason, really, aside from the memory of a child long dead. Louis had been so kind to him, and had asked for so little in return; really, what had he asked of him? He could allow Louis this little deception that deceived neither of them, but was mutually convenient.
"Yeah, Louis, I think I'd like that!" He smiled warmly, and on impulse, leaned over and kissed Louis, once, on the cheek, the way Louis often kissed him. The response was immediate, and worth the risk of any stares by passersby. Louis's face broke into a huge smile.
"Bien," he said, rising to his feet. "Let's go on in then, so we can be getting back. These packages are getting unwieldy."
An hour later, they were finally on their way to St. Elizabeth's. Between the packages and the two of them, the small sports car was packed to the very windows. As they pulled into the courtyard, they were met by Daniel and Armand, who were apparently just returning from hunting.
"Making up for lost time, Lou?" Daniel asked, as he helped unload his car. "Or are you afraid the economy will collapse now that Lestat is not on a spending frenzy?"
"François needed some diversions," Louis replied, handing over the keys. "I can't have him getting bored every night. He might take up with low companions." He raised an eyebrow at Daniel, clearly indicating just who those low companions were.
"I don't slur your fledgling, Louis," Armand chided, smiling. "You shouldn't say such things about mine. Daniel can't help it if he's incorrigible."
"I suppose not, considering who he's learned from," Louis replied.
Between the four of them, they got all the various packages inside in one trip. As they walked into the large foyer, François was surprised to see Mojo, sitting panting at the base of the stairs. The dog walked over to him, his tail wagging a greeting. François put down the parcels he had, and fussed over the dog.
"What's he doing here, Louis?" he asked, as Mojo rolled over onto his back.
"I thought it best, for now, that we stay here," Louis replied. "I had Daniel fetch him."
"Yeah, we got your clothes, too, Chairman," Daniel said, stepping carefully over Mojo. "I put the stuff in the room next to mine, Lou. Kind of keep an eye on him, you know."
"Thank you, Daniel," Louis said. He wasn't sure if he approved of the proximity, but decided that it was unlikely that anything too untoward would happen. "I thought I'd surprise you, François. I hope you're not disappointed, but I felt it would be more convenient to have our things here."
"Sure, Louis," François shrugged. It didn't much matter to him where he stayed, as long as Louis was there. "Just tell me where everything goes."
"Good. You take what you want to use right away, and Daniel will show you where you can store it." Daniel nodded, and François followed him up the stairs, both of them laden with as many packages as they could carry. Mojo sat at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, and then followed behind François.
"You've had a busy night, Louis," Armand said, dryly. "This is very unlike you."
"The boy needed some diversions," Louis replied. He began to empty the sacks onto the large hall table. "Did you bring the items I asked?"
"Oh, yes," Armand said, watching as Louis stacked videos and CDs neatly on the table. "Everything is set up in the room for him. You know," he sorted through the videos, "it might have been easier and quicker to simply buy the entire store." He smiled, waiting for Louis's response.
"He's going to have a great deal of spare time, and I can't rely on you and Daniel to keep him occupied and out of trouble." He returned the smile. "Besides, he's never had such things before."
"And this?" Armand picked up one of the sacks with the toy store logo. "Was this François's idea, or yours, Louis?" He looked inside. "Lego," he read aloud. "How . . . intellectually stimulating."
"I do own several construction companies, you know," Louis grabbed the bag from him. "It will be good practice, building models. Besides, it's very creative, and at any rate, he wanted these things. I saw no reason to deny him something if it will give him pleasure."
"Oh, no?" Armand picked up another sack, and dumped the contents out on the table. "Hmm. Very noble intentions, but I do wonder if you truly mean that." He pawed through the various items.
"Of course I mean it!" Louis scowled at him. "What, do you think I'm lying? I only want the best for François."
"Yes, of course you do, my mistake." He picked up several oddly shaped packages. "How strange. Somehow, I find it hard to believe that a boy of his years would want to play with little dolls like these."
"Well, François does," Louis retorted, somewhat irked. "And they are not dolls, if you must know, they are called action figures. François told me they're something like toy soldiers. I'm sure he'll learn a great deal about strategy and logic, plotting battles and such."
"Louis," Armand sighed. "You know I only have your best interests, and François's. Are you positive that these . . . toys were his idea?"
"Yes," Louis met Armand's gaze firmly. "I gave him the option, and was fully prepared to accept whatever his decision was. He picked out these things, not I. He can use them, or destroy them. It doesn't matter to me. If he gets bored with these things in a few hours, I'm sure we can find a good use for them. There are several worthy charities in New Orleans."
Armand searched his face for several minutes, probing his mind gently. He was very surprised to find that Louis was not lying, was not even exaggerating. "Very well, I believe you, Caro. Perhaps you are right about him. Perhaps, he does need this -" he searched for the right word. "This regression. This chance, as you put it." He leaned over and kissed Louis, embracing him. "Forgive me for doubting you, Caro. It's just that I don't want to see you hurt. Nor him."
Louis accepted the embrace, and returned the affection. "I understand, Armand. Truly, I do. And I appreciate your concern." He bit his lip, frowning. "I know my own judgment in this case is suspect, and with good reason. I have been worried myself, wondering if I were doing the right thing with him, making the right choices. But he does seem to be thriving, doesn't he?"
"I'd have to say so, yes," Armand admitted. "He is resilient. I have seen a great many fledglings in my time, you know this, and I can see it in him. He has the stamina. He will survive, as long as he is not hindered." He tilted his head to one side, again looking deeply into Louis's eyes, reading his thoughts. "Are you truly prepared for what might come?"
"What do you mean?" Louis asked. "You're talking in riddles, Armand, you know I hate that. Just come out and say what you mean."
"I mean," Armand said, choosing his words carefully. "Someday, he will want to leave. It is inevitable. Fledglings leave the nest." He leaned close, brushing his lips against Louis's ear, speaking so softly that it was barely a whisper. "Can you let him go, when the time comes? Can you bear to lose him, Caro?"
"I will not hold him prisoner," Louis said hoarsely. "He will be free to do as he chooses. But I think you're wrong, Armand. I don't think he'll leave. Not all fledglings run away; some are pushed, you know."
Armand pondered this for a moment, thinking of a Venice night, and a group of marauding Children of Darkness. "I suppose you may be right," he said quietly. He gave Louis another kiss before moving away. "Perhaps, since you did not make him, that might make a difference."
"Oh, that's big of you to admit as much," Louis said dryly. "Did it ever occur to you that François might want to stay simply because he's fond of me?"
Armand was silent for a moment, his eyes sparking with restored humor. "I suppose there is that," he said carelessly. "There's no accounting for taste."
Louis scowled at him a moment, and then laughed. The tension dissipated, and they both began looking through the odd assortment of items. It had been a very, very long time since Louis had given such things much thought, but even so, he found these modern toys very strange indeed.
He thought that the so-called action figures looked a lot more like dolls than soldiers, but who knew what modern children thought of such things. He found them peculiar at best, these toys, and some of them he found perfectly dreadful; horrible looking things, grotesquely deformed, some having extra limbs and strange appendages.
"Mon dieu," he muttered, turning one box over in his hand. "This one has two heads!"
"Oh, I recognize that one," Armand said, proffering the one he held. "That's from a film, Louis. You remember, the one we took you to see, with the alien planted inside the human. You remember, the one you claimed gave you nightmares?"
"It did not give me nightmares," Louis insisted, taking the box away from Armand. "I never said that."
"As you say, Louis," Armand said, picking up another one to examine it. "Oh, look, this one is a mutant. Strange how it looks very much like Lestat, don't you think?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Louis laughed. "Lestat doesn't have wings, and the last I checked, his face was not blue."
"Just as well, I suppose. That's all we need, him thinking he needs a line of toys."
Louis dropped the box he was holding. "Armand, that is not even funny." His face was the very picture of terror. "Don't even hint at such a thing!"
"Oh, no, not that!" Armand tried very hard not to laugh, but despite his efforts, a smile slipped out. "Imagine the horror. Thousands upon thousands of tiny plastic Lestats. The mind reels."
"I think that's one of the signs of the end times. 'And it is written, there shall be upon the earth, small brat-like idols,'" he intoned, in mock seriousness. "'And they shall be legion.'" He chuckled.
"Don't forget the publicity, either. 'New, from Mattel, it's the Vampire Lestat!'" Armand said, perfectly mimicking the ubiquitous television ads. "'He sings, he dances, he writes awful books.'"
"And you know that would not be the end of it," Louis shook his head sadly. "Of course, he'd have to drag the rest of us into things, too." He shuddered.
"Vampire Louis sold separately," Armand added.
"Not to mention, the rest of the Vampire Lestat Coven. There's the Vampire Armand - 'Brush his beautiful hair!'" Louis reached over, and flipped Armand's hair into his eyes. "And his companion, the Vampire Daniel. 'Comes with his very own, real, working tape recorder.' Yes, I can see how that one would sell very big."
"And don't forget, the Theatre des Vampires Action Playset," Armand added, running a hand through his hair to straighten it. "The Vampire Louis Matches sold separately."
"Don't forget the Vampire Lestat Harley Davidson motorcycle," Louis said, pointedly ignoring the jibe. "Not to mention the Vampire Lestat Porsche, the Vampire Armand Mini Jet, the Rue Royale Playhouse. Yes, I can just see the profits pilling up." Louis had been stacking the boxed figures, and suddenly the stack toppled over. "There, you see what you've done," he pointed a finger at Armand. "You've frightened the poor little things. They've fainted dead away."
"Oh, well, it probably would never sell anyway," Armand sighed. "Not a feasible idea."
"No," Louis agreed, putting the toys back into the sacks. "Far too many accessories." He nodded somberly. "Why, the Vampire Lestat alone comes with over four thousand individual costumes."
At this, Armand burst into laughter, and Louis joined him. Just then, Daniel and François came back down the stairs, only to find the two elder vampires laughing hysterically, each of them holding a pair of the figures, making the small toys fight each other.
"Geez, Chairman," Daniel said, staring in amazement at his maker. "I guess we'll have to settle for the blocks, huh?"
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Twenty-two
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