Foster Fledgling
Chapter Twenty-three
Very quickly, François's life at St. Elizabeth's fell into a nightly routine. Louis would be waiting for him when he awoke, shortly after sundown, patiently lying awake beside him in the coffin. While he still would have preferred a nice, comfortable bed, François found that just as Louis had promised, shutting himself up in the coffin did become less frightening, and within a matter of a scant few weeks, he was ready to try it solo. After one night, however, he went back to sharing with Louis; his suggestion that he rest alone had brought a sad, pained expression to the elder vampire's emerald eyes that had cut straight through to François's heart. He immediately recanted his request, and was happy to see that the sorrowful countenance was replaced with a look of pure joy.
Truth to tell, he much preferred the company, anyway. He would have bedded down in one of the filthy tombs in the cemetery, if Louis accompanied him. Lying down to rest each morning in Louis's strong, yet gentle embrace, and waking each evening to see his smiling, affectionate countenance, gave François more happiness than he'd ever known in his too brief mortal life.
François also found, to his surprise, that the routine itself was a comfort of sorts. Life with his mother had been anything but routine; he never knew from one day to the next if she'd be home when he returned from school, or if they'd even have a home. More than once, he'd returned to find their apartment empty, and no trace of his mother anywhere; although he knew where to find her whenever this happened, he loathed having to go to the sleazy bar's back door, to ask for her.
Yes, he much preferred his life now. Each night, he'd rise, share a few pleasantries with Louis and whomever else happened to be about, have a wash, and hunt. Most nights, they went out together, parting only long enough for the actual kill itself; this most intimate of acts, Louis insisted, was best done in private. That necessary task completed, they then spent the next few hours together, doing whatever caught their fancy.
Contrary to what Lestat's books had indicated, Louis was hardly a recluse.
Nearly every night, Louis had something to occupy their time in an interesting and often entertaining way. Frequently, they saw movies, and François discovered that Louis had a seemingly endless knowledge of film, from the very earliest bits of celluloid to the latest of Hollywood's offerings; if a film was not currently showing anywhere, Louis would invariably locate a copy for them to watch, either a video or an actual film copy. While François preferred a more standard fare of comedies and action-packed adventures, he also learned to enjoy the more esoteric fare that Louis preferred. Even when he found the dramas depressing and interminable, and the foreign films incomprehensible in plot, he still treasured the opportunity to share Louis's interests; moreover, he was ever eager to do anything that gave Louis such obvious pleasure.
The theatre was another of Louis's interests, and they attended everything, professional and amateur alike. François didn't mind most of the plays that they attended, and enjoyed some of the lighter fare, especially if there was music involved; he loved it especially, if it was a comedy that made Louis laugh. More serious works were a different story; tedious social commentaries, interminable dramas, and the strange, incomprehensible 'experimental' works left him cold. At first, for Louis's sake, he pretended to enjoy them, but this subterfuge was embarrassingly exposed when he fell asleep during one performance. Much to his surprise, Louis was not angry, or even disappointed; rather, he respected François's right to an opinion of his own. That said, he then asked François to explain what he didn't like, asking him questions and drawing out answers that François hadn't known were there. From then on, even the offerings that he found deadly dull were able to keep his attention, since he knew that Louis would quiz him afterwards; he soon found that these discussions were worth the effort to stay awake.
There were other activities, too, experiences so far removed from his former life that François felt he was in another world entirely. Some were good; others, not so good. Ballet fell into the latter category. Despite his best intentions, and despite his overwhelming desire to share Louis's interests, François found it unbearably dull. No matter how he tried, he couldn't keep interested in it. Louis only asked that he give it an honest effort. François did his best, but invariably, after a half hour, he was fidgeting and yawning. The night he sneaked in a book and Walkman, Louis good-naturedly conceded defeat; from then on, he attended the ballet alone, and François stayed home with Mojo.
The first time Louis took him to an opera, François balked, thinking it would be a similar experience. He tried desperately to find a way out; having little knowledge of this art form aside from what he'd seen on television and cartoons, he expected to see large women with horned helmets screaming and waving swords. Louis insisted, however, and François was glad that he did. Instead of boredom, he found himself wrapped up in an hysterically convoluted plot, and utterly swept away by the music. At first, he found it confusing, trying to follow a translation and keep up with the plot, but by the third visit, he could understand it perfectly.
Even the complicated and slightly uncomfortable suit Louis insisted he wear didn't deter from his enjoyment, and after attending a few performances, François found that he looked forward to donning it; he even learned how to tie the complicated knot for the necktie. He realized that the long coat, and the fancy shirt, were probably very close to what Louis had worn as a mortal. François thought Louis looked magnificent, and knew from the looks they drew, and the random thoughts he picked up, that other people agreed with him. He told Louis of this, although Louis eschewed such praise, claiming that he was quite ordinary; such modesty apparently did not extend to François himself, as Louis was forever telling him how wonderful he looked, until François finally had to insist that turnabout was only fair. Still, it made François very proud, on both counts, and he suspected that Louis felt much the same.
Although they did attend these functions frequently, they were just as likely to spend the evening at home. François treasured these quiet moments, for it was during these pleasant evenings that he and Louis truly came to know one another. Almost from the beginning, François had found in Louis a kindred soul, someone who felt very much as he did about so many things. Learning of Louis's interests, and coming to share them was in many ways merely a confirmation of this.
A love of reading, this they already shared. François had loved to read from the time he was a small child, and one of the few possessions that he'd managed to keep for years was a battered copy of Green Eggs and Ham; in fact, it was in the pack he'd had with him when Louis found him, along with the paperbacks of Lestat's and Louis's books. Aside from reading assignments in school, however, he had never strayed far from fiction, tending to stick to mysteries and fantasy and science fiction. While encouraging him to continue to read these, Louis also expanded his range of material to include poetry, theology, philosophy, and other more serious works.
At first, François found these to be even less interesting than the ballet had been, but again, Louis insisted that he give it his best effort. From the beginning, François would have gladly walked through fire had Louis but requested it, so he dug into the various works with determination; he found, much to his surprise, that after some concerted effort, he could understand what he read, even if he didn't enjoy it, or even agree with it. After a time, he and Louis spent many evenings discussing philosophical ideas. Occasionally, other members of the coven joined in the discussions. It never ceased to awe François; these elder vampires, some who'd lived for millennia, not only did they listen to him, they respected his opinion.
This was not the only contact he had with the other members of the coven, however. Louis wanted him to have a classical education, such as he himself had enjoyed, along with more modern subjects, and sought the help of the others to this end. To the great surprise of no one, save perhaps François himself, he proved an extremely apt pupil, rapidly mastering whatever subject he tackled.
Both Louis and Marius agreed, his first course of study must be language. Almost without meaning to, he had become fluent in French, able to converse easily with Louis in the old dialect; however, his mastery of his native tongue remained sub-standard. Thus, for the first few months of his new life at St. Elizabeth's, François spent several hours every night doing grammar exercises. He found it came far more easily than he'd expected, and within a matter of weeks, had moved on from English to French. Latin and Greek soon followed; by the time he'd been a vampire for six months, François could converse comfortably with Marius in the language of Rome.
Composition came next, and François found he actually enjoyed writing. Marius was uncompromising in his standards, but equally quick to praise good work; François worked very hard to improve. One night, Louis gave him a lovely, leather-bound book, with his name embossed on the cover. It was a journal, Louis explained, to write down his own thoughts, to keep a record of his growth and experiences. Immediately, François began to keep this religiously, writing each night his impressions of what he'd experienced. He found, much to his surprise, that he had a great deal to write.
Other subjects soon expanded his curriculum, following the traditional lines as Louis desired. Rhetoric he found far more enjoyable than he'd expected. As the son of a Roman senator, Marius had vast experience in logic and argument. François became quite adept at defending his position with strong arguments, regardless of whether it was a matter of philosophy or the superiority of one super hero over another. He learned, too, to look at all sides of a question, to think it through carefully before forming an opinion or making a decision.
Marius's skills as an instructor proved to have limits, however. Mathematics was more difficult for François; despite his best efforts, and Marius's seemingly unlimited patience, he found the subject dull, until Armand and Daniel stepped in. Armand taught him the beauty of numbers, the satisfaction of working out complex sums, seeing each problem as a puzzle to be solved. He also convinced Louis to give François money of his own, and then taught François the importance of keeping accurate accounts, of knowing exactly how much money he had, and where it was all kept. Mortals were by nature greedy, and no matter how reputable a human agent might be, he was in the end, merely human; the fortunes amassed over centuries could tempt a saint. Better to know oneself where the money went.
Daniel, on the other hand, taught François how to use arithmetic for more pleasant activities. Studying statistics became far more interesting when applied to a baseball game. In no time, François was computing odds in his head. Likewise, algebra was demonstrated with the use of stock car races, factoring in distances and speeds and laps. Lego block buildings made convenient models to figure out complex geometry and trigonometry problems. Before long, François enjoyed his math lessons as much as his other subjects. Even Marius had to admit, sometimes life was a better teacher than a book; from that point on, the mathematics texts gathered dust on the shelves.
Marius's own deep love of the arts came into play in François's instruction, too. They spent many evenings in Marius's home, examining one work for hours at a time, as Marius pointed out the use of color and hue, light and shadow, composition and form. Through his vast collection, as well as his own skill, he was able to illustrate to the boy the history of western art, often painting rich canvases in words as well as pigments. François also learned to use the various media, happily mixing pigments and experimenting with tempera and oils and watercolors and clay. He studied composition, sometimes working at one subject repeatedly, until he had mastered the technique to his and Marius's satisfaction. Marius found in François an enthusiastic pupil who, if not the most gifted student he'd ever taught, nonetheless enjoyed the creative aspect, and deeply appreciated the works of others.
This is not to say that François was totally without talent or ability. He was, it turned out, quite adept at drawing, filling page after page with pencil and charcoal sketches. His subjects were everything and everyone in sight; Louis, Mojo, anyone else who happened to be nearby, the courtyard, buildings in the Quarter, automobiles, his favorite comic book characters, boats on the river, anything that caught his eye was likely to turn up in his sketchbook. Some of these were very competent works; Louis, of course, immediately had these professionally mounted and framed, and displayed prominently in the old orphanage and the townhouse.
Of all the subjects he studied, however, history was by far François's favorite. Louis was always to be counted on for a vivid description of earlier times, and was especially in his element when talking of his early life in Louisiana, while François listened, rapt. Having lived for so long and in so many places, Marius could be relied upon to recount fantastic stories of historical figures and events; through his eyes, François saw Rome in her glory, medieval Europe, renaissance Italy. David could be dry and dull, but if a particular subject caught his fancy, he would disappear for a night, returning with items liberated from the vaults of the Talamasca, and François could examine firsthand historical relics from many eras. Maharet and Mekare, too, had their imput; Maharet had decendents on every continent, and could spin a great tale. Mekare, although without speech, showed him the panorama of the pre-Columbian Americas.
But aside from Louis, who was always first in François's heart, Khayman was above and beyond François's favorite. He could implant in François's mind images of Egypt before the pyramids were built, Greece and Byzantium in their glories, China and India before any westerners had ever set foot on their shores. Once, he even whisked François away to Athens, flying around the earth ahead of the sun with François in his arms, terrified yet thrilled beyond words; Louis had not been entirely happy about that trip, and it had not been repeated.
François thrived on the work, enjoying the prospect of learning for its own sake. Louis continued to teach him the skills he needed to survive, and began to include more practical matters in his instructions. Louis owned many diverse businesses, and taught this to Francois, as he had been taught by his own father, through practical application; early on, Francois accompanied Louis to all business meetings, and must sit beside Louis and listen attentively, always observing and paying close attention. François enjoyed these excursions, and did his best to be useful to Louis; his ability to sense the emotions of others proved very useful, indeed, in dealing with frequently less than scrupulous mortals. Before long, Louis asked his opinion on most of his business dealings, and took François's comments and suggestions very seriously.
So night followed night. Louis was unfailing in his promise to spend the first part of every evening with François, and just as faithfully, spent the second half with his maker. François missed him, but felt no jealousy; he knew Louis cared for him, loved him, even. He didn't need to spend every waking moment with him to validate it. On a few occasions, François offered to accompany Louis to his vigil at Lestat's side, but was always politely, yet firmly, refused. This was fine with François. While the offer to accompany Louis was genuine, he nevertheless was relieved that it was not accepted. François had encountered The Vampire Lestat only two times in his brief existence, and both times unpleasantness had followed. He was in no hurry. He would gladly wait until such time as his maker was more stable; however, he harbored doubts that it would ever become an issue. In the meantime, he was content with his life.
No, not content. Contentment he'd known before; contentment was managing to get three full meals in a day, or making it home with a new comic without it being stolen by bigger boys, or just getting through a day without his mother hitting him. No, this was something far better, much rarer, more precious. For the first time in his life, François was happy, truly happy and at peace.
Thus passed the first two years of François's life as an immortal.
Foster Fledgling - Chapter Twenty-four
E-Mail the Author
