REPOST: (by request)SPEC: The Farthest Side...
JoAnne Soper-Cook
(c) J. Soper-Cook, 1995
"You're a vampire?" Louis peered closer at the girl in the
darkness, trying to use all his vampiric senses to see past the
godawful layer of grime that covered her. She couldn't have been
much more than about seventeen or eighteen when she'd been made,
but how long ago had that been? And how long had she been lurking
in the shadows of this abandoned building, watching him?
"Half an hour, give or take five minutes." The girl had a
tough attitude, almost tomboyish, Louis supposed. He really had
no idea what to make of her.
"How old are you?" Louis watched in astonishment as the
girl produced a crumpled packet of cigarettes and, striking a
match, lit one.
"How old am I really, or how old do I look?" The girl--
Bronwyn--drew deeply on the cigarette and expelled a cloud of
thick smoke.
"Why are you smoking? Surely it gives you no...pleasure."
Louis wrinkled his nose in disgust as he was assaulted by another
cloud of foul smoke.
Bronwyn rolled her eyes, looking for all the world like a
world-weary teenage girl. Louis grinned in spite of himself.
"Listen: I do my own things, and I do them my own way." Bronwyn
pulled in another lungful of smoke, then dropped the cigarette,
crushing it under her heel. She peered at Louis for a long
moment. "Pointe de Lac, right? The plantation, down
South...wait, Louisiana. What are you running from?"
Her incisive knowledge of him was unnerving, or perhaps his
overpowering hunger was making him edgy. Her extraordinary senses
laid him completely open to her. "You...seem very powerful."
Louis licked his lips. "What are you doing, wandering around
here?"
Bronwyn laughed, a brittle sound that seemed to hang in the
air between them. "The same as you, Pointe de Lac. The same as
you!"
Louis held up a hand, his green eyes thoughtful. "Please--
my name is Louis. I'm very thirsty, it's been a long time since
I fed, I was wondering if you knew somewhere....?" He let the
question trail off into silence.
"You must be hungry if you were gonna chomp on me!" She
gazed for a long moment at him. "Lord God, you're a pretty one,
though." One grubby finger came up, tapped the very center of
her bottom lip, and for a moment, Louis was galvanised by
unwanted memories of Lestat. "I'd very much like to feed, er,
Bronwyn...."
"Sure! Follow me." The ancient teenager slipped into the
shadows, Louis at her heels, and within a very short span of
time, both she and Louis had satisfactorily sated their
respective hungers on the inhabitants of a bingo hall.
Thus satisfactorily fed, the next obstacle that remained was
shelter. Bronwyn charmed her way into a roadside motel,
exchanging Louis's Rolex watch (a gift from Lestat) for lodgings.
"Right-o, then Louis, here we are! All safe and sound from
the elements!" The girl tossed herself onto the bed and
stretched out, staring at the ceiling.
"I want you to get a shower," Louis ordered. He pulled off
his overcoat and draped it over the radiator to dry. Although
the furnishings in the little room were sparse and offered
nothing in the way of luxury, there was, at least, a good supply
of electric heat and hot water.
"'Scuse me?" Bronwyn extracted a cigarette from her
crumpled pack and lit it.
"I said, take a shower. You stink." Louis's nostrils flared
as he again caught her scent. "I can't stand the smell of you.
Then I'll get one after you're finished." He pulled off his
boots wearily, letting them drop onto the burn-marked carpeting.
"It's nearly dawn. We must make sure those drapes close. We'll
have to spend the day here." He looked at Bronwyn, who had not
moved from her pose on the bed. A plume of smoke blossomed up
from the cigarette she held clenched in one dirty paw. "And put
out that goddamned smoke!" Louis reached across and snatched for
the cigarette, but Bronwyn turned with an inhuman speed and
ground the butt into the back of his hand.
"Jesus!" Louis snatched his hand away from her, clutched it
close to him, trembling from the searing pain. He turned it over
and looked at the burn: a nasty dark-grey weal marked the satiny
skin. "You evil little bitch!" He was shaking, his green eyes
wide with fear. He hadn't felt that kind of fear in a long, long
time...not since that evil night, many years ago....
"I'll put you in your coffin forever, Father!" Claudia,
wielding her flashing knife, and Lestat laughing, even when she
slashed him....
Louis shuddered. Bronwyn was lying on her side, gazing at
him with her large, empty blue eyes. 'I'll put you in your
coffin....' Louis sighed. "Please, you must bathe. I can't
stand the smell!"
Bronwyn stretched, languidly, like a cat, extending and
flexing her long fingers like claws. "Why don't we take one
together?" Her mouth curved into a Cupid's bow, the smile of a
seductress.
Louis looked away, out the window at the slowly-lightening
sky. The pain in his hand throbbed with a steady beat. "Fine.
Just--wash yourself." He got up and yanking open the bathroom
door, went inside.
Bronwyn was laughing.
David Talbot opened his brown eyes, slowly drawing himself
back to the present, his reality resolving into the sumptuous
surroundings of Lestat's terrace house. He sighed, feeling the
breath tingling all the way down to the tips of his fingers.
"Did you hear him?" Lestat sat far forward, on the very
edge of the leather sofa, his hands clasped in front of him.
David nodded. "Yes, I did. He came and sat next to Lestat,
facing the other vampire at an angle. "He's in New York, Lestat;
or as near as I can tell."
"New York?! But how did he...Louis can't fly, David, he
couldn't have...." Lestat trailed off, his eyes thoughtful.
"Unless he took conventional transport...."
Talbot smiled. "Which you yourself have deigned to do, from
time to time...."
Lestat returned the smile, relief washing over him. Louis
was all right! "Having my body travel on the QE2 in a steamer
trunk does not constitute conventional transport, David!" He got
up from the couch and traversed the path between the fireplace
and the wall of windows on the opposite side of the house. "We
must find him. I have to...convince him to come home."
"Yes." Talbot nodded. "I absolutely agree."
"David," Lestat turned around, the blood-tears again
standing in his eyes. "I'm so glad you agreed to help me find
Louis. It's very important to be close to the person you love,
don't you agree?"
"Absolutely," Talbot agreed, gazing upon Lestat's luminous
golden beauty. "I absolutely agree."
Louis stripped off the last remaining piece of his clothing,
and reached inside the shower cabinet to test the water. It was
gloriously hot, and the little bathroom was rapidly filling up
with clouds of steam.
He pulled the plastic curtain aside and stepped under the
hot spray, letting the steaming water play over his skin, warming
skin so recently chilled by icy rain. He ducked under the faucet
and soaked his hair, then soaped his head vigorously, rinsing
away the suds. So wonderful, this glorious heat! Almost like
the warm summer rain of New Orleans....
Louis bit back tears. He wasn't going to start bawling
about Lestat again, dammit; he'd come here in the first place so
he could have time to think, to sort things out. The recent
happenings in Auvergne had caused something deep within his
consciousness to shift, creating unsettling repercussions. He
needed this time to himself, out of Lestat's circle of influence,
glorious though it was.
A grubby paw parted the curtains and Bronwyn stepped into
the steaming spray, stark naked. Louis stared at her for a long
moment, his green eyes holding her dark-blue gaze, searching for
something in the unfathomable depths of those eyes. But her gaze
was as hollow as a statue's, and as dead. "Nice and hot in here,
Pointe de Lac!" Her two dirty little feet splashed about in the
small puddle of water that had collected on the floor of the
shower cabinet, tapping in it so that the cooling water lapped at
Louis's ankles. "I bet you're used to this kind of luxury, huh?"
"Wash yourself. And your hair. You're disgustingly filthy."
Louis handed her a bar of soap, which she took reluctantly. She
really was a pathetic creature, varied and powerful though her
abilities might be. She seemed a person out of time, forever
caught in the era of her making, unable to adapt to the modern
world. Louis wondered what she sort of life she'd led as a
mortal.
"I was a Gypsy," she said. Reading his mind again. When
wet, she seemed to shrivel, becoming even smaller to his eyes, a
child-woman standing naked in his shower. Louis shivered,
thinking again of Claudia.
"Let me help you, you're too slow." Louis said, taking the
bottle of shampoo from the little shelf on the wall. He thrust
her sputtering under the faucet, wetting her hair and rubbing a
goodly amount of the scented soap into it, lathering well. He
did this twice, then scrubbed her back, forcing her to stand
under the needling spray until she was absolutely clean. Then,
he gave her a thick towel in which to wrap herself and sent her
out. He doused himself one more time under the hot water and
then turned off the shower, wrapping himself in another of the
motel's towels and following her out to the bedroom.
Louis went around the room and carefully pulled all the
draperies closed against the advancing daylight. He chinked even
the tiny crack underneath the door with a spare pillow,
eliminating even that tiny entrance space, and hung on the
doorknob the "Do Not Disturb" sign.
By the time he had finished these preparations, Bronwyn had
succumbed to the insistent tug of her deathly sleep, and lay as
pale as wax underneath the covers. She was clean now, her long
dark hair fanned out underneath her on the pillow, her little
hands folded on her chest, the sheets drawn tight over her. She
wasn't pretty; rather, she possessed a childish fragility that
aroused his deepest protective instincts. Louis pulled the heavy
blanket over her, smiling as he climbed into the bed beside her.
She was a tough little thing, he'd give her that, and seemingly
his unwitting companion for as long as he chose to stay away.
The progression of the dawn pressed against the shuttered
windows but did not intrude, and thus protected from both the
elements and the daylight, Louis allowed himself the luxury of
tears before falling into his deathly sleep.
to be continued...
--
JoAnne
("Sometimes I become spellbound in the middle of Wal-Mart..."
Lestat de Lioncourt)
JoAnne Soper-Cook
The Farthest Side of Night, Part IV
(c) J. Soper-Cook, 1995
By the time Lestat reached the terrace house his anger
against David Talbot had diminished somewhat, but his despair had
not. He entered the living room and flung himself into his
favorite chair, willing the television on, then turning it off
again. His mind whirled with pain and his anguished despair,
which seemed to have never left him since the night he'd awakened
to find Louis gone....
Lestat cast his mind back over the events leading up to
Louis's disappearence, could find nothing in the seemingly normal
progression of their existence that would warrant Louis leaving
him.
Lestat gazed around the walls of his sumptuous, tastefully
decorated home, nodding satisfaction at the beauty of the decor,
the abundance of such luxuries and small conveniences that made
life more bearable. Over there, in the corner, stood the large-
screen television set, with its attendant wealth of videotapes
and laser disks, and there was the thoroughly modern stereo, also
stocked with an impressive library of music. Carefully chosen,
classic works of art graced the elegant walls, save for the one
wall which was composed entirely of windows that looked out onto
the New Orleans skyline.
Lestat got up and went into Louis's study, roaming
listlessly around the dusty room, running the tips of his fingers
over the leather-bound volumes that lines the walls. Louis's
beloved books.... Lestat traced their bindings devoutly, the
musky scent of good paper rising to his nostrils. He pulled out
one of them and rubbed his thumb over the gold that edged the
collective pages, thinking of Louis sitting at the desk, poring
over one of these volumes, his long hair falling into his face.
Lestat smiled in spite of himself as the image rose conveniently
into his mind: Louis, lost in a book, oblivious to his immediate
surroundings, pausing now and then to brush his hair back with an
impatient hand. If Lestat happened to look in at the door, Louis
would raise his head and gaze blankly for a moment, pulling
himself back as if from a great distance, his consciousness
struggling for a moment with the fact of his immediate reality.
Louis always appeared bemused if Lestat strolled casually into
his special sanctum and feigned interest in his books. Lestat
would often try to lure Louis away from his reading, teasing him,
lingering behind his chair to press his lips against the back of
Louis's neck, his cheek.
Lestat slipped into Louis's chair, hearing the good leather
creak in response to his weight. He laid both palms flat on the
solid oak of the desktop and pressed, feeling the substantial
wood give a little under his preternatural strength.
"I miss you, Louis...." Lestat laid his head down on the
desktop. "Please come home..." A crimson rivulet slid down his
cheek to pool on the smooth wooden surface.
"Lestat."
Lestat turned quickly in the chair, rubbing his face in his
sleeve. David Talbot stood framed in the doorway, wearing an
expression of deep contrition. He lifted one of his large dark
hands, gestured at Lestat. "I...should like to apologise." He
stood immobile, his dark eyes on Lestat.
Lestat got up, came towards him. "I expect you would." He
gazed at the other man for a long, tense moment, during which
neither of them spoke.
"Lestat, I'm really very sorry. I was absolutely wrong to
withold the little information I did have." Talbot reached out,
his hand contacting with Lestat's shoulder. "And now it seems
that I've hurt you rather badly. I'm sorry."
"You know how I feel about him! You know I love him...."
Lestat sighed, a peevish sound.
"You once told me you loved me." Talbot was unmoving, a
large, dark statue.
Lestat's finely-wrought mouth slid open for a moment on
silence. His eyes broke their gaze with Talbot, slid away,
returned. "I do."
"But not like you love Louis."
Lestat swallowed hard. "David, please. Don't make me hurt
you, I don't wish to--"
Talbot came into the room, sat down on the sofa. "Lestat.
I can call Louis, ask him to come home. I'm not mind-blind to
him as you are. I can persuade him to come back." He dropped
his hands into his lap, a gesture of resignation.
"Thank you." Lestat sat beside him, one hand resting gently
on Talbot's knee. "But Louis can be very stubborn. I'm not sure
merely calling him would be enough. We--I--may have to look for
him."
"I would go with you, of course. That is, if you wished it."
Talbot's velvet brown eyes caught and held Lestat's sapphire
gaze. "Goddamn it, Lestat, talk to me! I'm desperate to make it
up to you for my bloody selfish error...." Talbot pulled away a
little, looked at Lestat. "You're enjoying this, torturing me
like this!"
The corners of Lestat's mouth lifted very slightly, then the
fledgling smile disappeared. "Of course not!" But his bottom lip
dimpled as he said it.
"Oh, damn you! You immortal brat! You do too enjoy it!"
Talbot leaned close to Lestat, sliding his arm around him,
enjoying the feeling of Lestat's body next to his. He kissed the
side of Lestat's face, his hair.
Lestat stirred against him, breathed in the good, clean
scent of Talbot's body, felt the tug of response deep within
himself. He turned blindly and took Talbot's face in his hands,
pressing his hot, opened mouth against Talbot's lips, deepening
the kiss, slipping his tongue teasingly between the other man's
parted lips, sliding the palms of his hands up Talbot's arms, his
hard shoulders.
Talbot, the taller of the two, rose to his feet, tugging
Lestat with him. He gazed deeply into Lestat's blue eyes,
recognised the responsive desire there, felt the answering surge
of lust blossom inside himself. He crushed Lestat's slender,
strong body to him, pressing his own body against that luscious,
six-foot expanse of immortal splendour.
Lestat struggled for a brief span of time, pressing against
Talbot's chest, but his vampiric "child" was very strong, and
Lestat's protests were of no use. Lestat felt one of Talbot's
hands cradle the back of his head, holding him upright as the
other slim, dark hand neatly ripped open the front of his shirt.
Another tug and Talbot tore the garment off completely, tossed it
away.
Lestat was picked up in Talbot's powerful arms and carried
out of the study and up the stairs to an unused "guest" bedroom
that had been refurbished in 18th century style, complete with
the requisite four-poster bed. "David, put me down!"
Talbot tossed Lestat onto the bed where he impacted
blissfully against the feather-ticking mattress. "You always
like to be so in control, my darling Prince---I feel that
turnabout is, after all, fair play, don't you agree?" Talbot
slipped Lestat's boots off, letting each drop onto the bedside
rug with a soft thump. His handsome face was smiling, his
intentions veiled in secrecy as his skilful fingers unzipped
Lestat's trousers and gently drew them off.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Talbot lay beside the naked
Lestat, himself still fully clothed. "I promise: I will never
hurt you. But you mustn't fight me, all right?"
Lestat nodded dumbly, for once bereft of any kind of witty
repartee. He watched in silence as Talbot disrobed, pulling
clothing off his powerful body, revealing his burnished amber
skin to Lestat's delighted gaze. Talbot reached down into the
pile of clothing at his feet and retrieved his paisley tie,
brought it with him to the bed.
He slid his heated skin next to Lestat's body and kissed him
gently, with a world of tenderness and skill. Talbot's mouth
moved from Lestat's lips to the white skin of his throat,
nipping, teasing, heightening the other vampire's desire until
Lestat's muscled body was covered with a faint sheen of sweat.
"God, David, would you hurry up and--" Lestat's murmured plea
was cut off as he felt the smooth silk of Talbot's paisley tie
tighten around each of his wrists in turn, binding them together.
"What are you doing?!" His hands were tied to the bedpost above
him.
Talbot knelt above him, considering his work with a critical
eye. The placement of the restraints had positioned Lestat in a
most desirable way: he was totally helpless, his gorgeous,
slender body laid open for Talbot's delectation. Talbot allowed
his gaze to rove over Lestat, coming to rest at last on the other
man's startled eyes. "Oh, don't be frightened. I'm not going to
hurt you...." Talbot leaned over Lestat and kissed him. "I am
going to have a lot of fun with you."
"David, I don't know if I like being tied up like this..."
Lestat struggled against the silken binding.
"Shhh...." Talbot bent over Lestat and pressed his opened
mouth to Lestat's flat belly, was rewarded with a low groan. He
tenderly parted Lestat's legs, sliding the palms of his hands up
the hard muscles of his thighs. "Please, don't be frightened.
I'm sure you'll enjoy this very much..." He opened his mouth
and, taking Lestat's cock inside, bit down on the underside of
it, right up near the scrotum, very gently.
"Oh, God!" Lestat bucked on the bed as a white-hot sliver of
erotic pleasure sizzled through him. He strained against his
bindings, arching up against Talbot as David's mouth sucked
rhythmically. Lestat could feel his lust pulsing even in the
soles of his feet, was dimly aware that he was pumping his hips
against Talbot's busy head. He heard his own voice, whimpering,
from far away, erupting in hoarse, throaty cries as he reached
the pinnacle of his desire and was impaled on a spike of ecstasy.
He felt Talbot loose the knots that held his bindings, freeing
his hands, and his arms came loose to clasp Talbot against him.
"Oh, David..." Lestat held Talbot in a long hug, relishing the
feel of the other man against him, lingering in the aftereffects
of his cataclysmic climax.
A measure of time spun out, unheeded, and another, before
Lestat stirred, turning onto his side. Talbot had slid up to lie
beside him on the bed. "Thank you," Lestat smoothed Talbot's
face with his hand. "That was wonderful."
Talbot smiled. "I've been wanting to do that for a very long
time."
"I thought as much." Lestat rubbed his hands in the dark
hair that covered Talbot's chest. "May I pleasure you, now?"
"I'd like that..." Talbot lay back on the bed and Lestat
lay on top of him, covering him from head to toe. "That's nice,
you lying there like that..."
Lestat silenced him with a kiss, then, plunging down upon
him mercilessly, took Talbot into his mouth in the very same
manner, and perpetrated the very same act, albeit without the
paisley tie.
"We have to hunt soon." Louis sat up on one elbow and
looked at Bronwyn who was lying silent in the bed beside him.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Bronwyn gazed at him,
the sheet pulled up around her. Her long hair, now soft and
clean, fell winsomely around her small white shoulders. "I got
impressions of someone while we were pleasing each other...a man,
a blond man."
Lestat. Louis's chest was squeezed with a hard, deep pain.
"It doesn't matter."
"His name is Lestat--wait a minute!" Bronwyn sat up, her
hair falling down to cover her small breasts. "Lestat de
Lioncourt--the Brat Prince, the outcast!" Her eyes narrowed for
just an instant, and a dark chill swept over Louis, and a vision
of Madeline and Claudia, turned to dust.... "No one in the old
coven even speaks of him."
Louis turned onto his back, stared at the ceiling. He could
feel the ancient anger turning inside him like a knife. "You and
your old coven! You have no idea, the grief, the pain! I thought
I'd burnt you all!" In one fluid movement, he leapt out of bed.
"I should burn you now for what you did to Claudia--and to me!"
Louis advanced towards her, grabbed a handful of her hair in his
fist before being brutally rebuffed by her powers. Her awesome
psychic energy literally flung him across the room.
"Don't toy with me, Pointe de Lac. There are things about
the Theatre that even you don't know!" Bronwyn got slowly out of
bed, picked her tattered, dirty clothing up off the floor and
began putting them on.
"I know them for the fiends and murderers they were! And I
destroyed them all, or so I'd thought!" Louis picked himself up
off the floor, started gathering his clothes off the radiator.
"You know little better than nothing!" Bronwyn's eyes were
blazing. "Not all of us perished in the fire you started! Not
all. And not all of us participated in the murder of your
friends!" She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, her
voice sounded tired, an ancient weariness. "We were not all of
us heartless fiends, Louis."
"How did you escape?" Louis pulled his pants on, shivering
from hunger and shock. "I burned that Theatre to the ground!"
Bronwyn pulled out her crumpled pack of cigarettes and lit
one, drew in a deep lungful of smoke, considering him blandly.
"I'm a Gypsy, Pointe de Lac. There are ways known to me--"
"You should have been burnt to a cinder!" Louis stared at
her, his green eyes widening. "And tell me this: how is it I
didn't know you from a mortal? How are you able to hide yourself
from us?" He came around to where she stood, pulling on his
overcoat as he did so.
"I have...my own secrets, as you do yours. I might tell you
later." She squinted up at him through a haze of cigarette
smoke. "And I might not."
Louis ground his teeth in frustration. "Tell me one thing,
then: what are you doing wandering around here, filthy and
alone?"
"I have to hide, to wander among mortals, 'filthy and alone'
as you so eloquently put it. You might say it's my destiny."
She turned her back on him, yanked on her dirty coat. "There is a
greater Evil that stalks the earth than us, Louis." She turned
to face us again. "A greater Evil, yet." Her blue eyes were as
bright as brittle glass, and in her shabby, oversized coat, she
looked like a child masquerading as a woman. Louis swallowed
over a lump of grief in his throat...Claudia....
"We should go out." He opened the motel door and stepped
out into the chilly darkness, a cold New York night, without the
warmth of New Orleans, or the charm of an Auvergne winter.