Quatre.
Ivy covered the hollow face of an angel. Beneath my hand the gravestone was still warm from the day. The ruined village had long been abandoned and with it the small graveyard, but not one grave was as old as I. Amidst old tombs my thoughts always stray back to New Orleans. I could almost smell the jasmine and the distant clatter of horses. I thought of Louis, hot-skinned and spell-bound, touching the pale marble with questing fingertips; Louis, who stumbled in his haste to follow me through the swampy land and whose eyes never once left mine; Louis, who thrilled to my touch as I stole his mortal soul. We’d shared a fragile peace for so many years, with no-one to shatter it but ourselves.
A long blonde hair clung to my sleeve. I flicked it away.
Claude was awake, blinking at the stars. I recognised the blankness on his face at once. What now? it said. What do I do? Using my boot, I pushed at the half-open lid of the sarcophagus until it crashed to one side. He took this as his cue to clamber out.
“Old school,” I smiled. “We didn’t have enough time to check into the Ritz.” He nodded solemnly.
Claude was lean and almost as tall as Louis. He wore black jeans and a ragged t-shirt with a picture of a pentangle on it. Surely, he’d been mortal only twenty years ago. His face had the sleek androgyny of the young; defined jawline, high cheekbones and a sweet pout of flesh with his hair dyed a glossy black. There was a prick of coldness behind his eyes.
I didn’t need to spy to know what he was thinking.
“You’re safe now,” I said.
He paused to take this in, rubbing at the back of his arms, an all too human habit. “Where are we?”
“No idea,” I crunched gravel beneath my boots. “The sun had come for you. I had to be fast.”
I caught a flicker of concern and an image. Patrice.
“He’ll survive,” I shrugged. I didn’t care.
“He won’t,” he said softly, closing his eyes. He was processing this information, picking at it in his mind until only the truth was left, shining and raw. He exhaled as if to rid himself of it. Survival. He’d learned quickly.
Now he was staring at me openly, taking in every detail of my appearance. I wore a simple white shirt and pale jeans; a costume of invisibility. My unchanging face had been on the cover of that old rock album, but I could feel him sifting through the negligible differences now I stood before him. My skin was not as white as it had once been, although it wouldn’t be long before it was very much whiter. My hair was loose and wild. I wore my usual sapphire ring and I had a gold watch on my wrist because I liked to hear it tick. He was drawn to the preternatural blaze in my eyes and he wasn’t afraid.
“Lestat,” he said aloud, as if it made me real. “Is all of it true?”
I knew what he meant. “There have always been a few tricks for the mortals, and I no longer publish my own revelations,” I smiled, “but everything you’ve read is probably true.”
He digested that statement for a moment.
“What about the Queen...? The red-haired twins…?” I simply nodded.
“And the others? What about Armand?”
“Yes, cher, perfectly real, but stay clear of him.”
“He’d kill me like you killed Thérèse?” What could I say to that? I nodded again, but I wasn’t so sure. Armand didn’t tolerate new orphans like Claude, but there was something about the boy that might intrigue even him.
“And Louis…?” he added, stepping closer.
“And Louis, yes, very real,” I laughed, “but something tells me that he might not approve of me acquiring you. In fact, I’m sure of it. Incidentally, you don’t happen to know where that dratted ring is, do you?”
He brightened, glad to be useful at last. “The Talamasca have it. They cleaned up after us.”
“You didn’t take part,” I reminded him. “Don’t hang on to the guilt of others, cher, you’ll soon have plenty of your own.”
“I don’t feel guilty when I kill,” Claude said bluntly. I merely smiled. What it was to be young.
“Why did you let me live?” he asked, suddenly. “Am I yours now?”
“You owe me nothing.” A shade of disappointment touched his face. How much easier it is to be a follower. I wondered how his guiltless heart would fare without someone else to take the blame.
“You’re not my slave,” I said. “Go if you wish.”
“What am I then?” he whispered, his face stricken. His entire immortal life had centered on his two companions. “I don’t know what to do.” The trees shook with a sudden breeze. The distant clang of a church bell sounded the hour. I let his panic settle back into a place of calm.
“But you do know time isn’t always your enemy. It can gift you anything you want. If you can endure it.” I touched his silky hair.
He understood, and a light came into his face again as he realized he was not alone.
Finally, he spoke again. “The Talamasca took everything to the Motherhouse, even the body.” I frowned. It hadn’t occurred to me that they might do this.
“All right.” I said. “What are we waiting for?” We had plenty of time to get to Paris.
He shook his head. “Oh no, not Paris. They spoke in English.”
Of course. All roads lead to the London Motherhouse. I rolled my eyes. The sky was clear, tiny wisps of cloud feathering the horizon.
Suddenly, I grasped him around the waist. “Have you ever been to London?”
A long blonde hair clung to my sleeve. I flicked it away.
Claude was awake, blinking at the stars. I recognised the blankness on his face at once. What now? it said. What do I do? Using my boot, I pushed at the half-open lid of the sarcophagus until it crashed to one side. He took this as his cue to clamber out.
“Old school,” I smiled. “We didn’t have enough time to check into the Ritz.” He nodded solemnly.
Claude was lean and almost as tall as Louis. He wore black jeans and a ragged t-shirt with a picture of a pentangle on it. Surely, he’d been mortal only twenty years ago. His face had the sleek androgyny of the young; defined jawline, high cheekbones and a sweet pout of flesh with his hair dyed a glossy black. There was a prick of coldness behind his eyes.
I didn’t need to spy to know what he was thinking.
“You’re safe now,” I said.
He paused to take this in, rubbing at the back of his arms, an all too human habit. “Where are we?”
“No idea,” I crunched gravel beneath my boots. “The sun had come for you. I had to be fast.”
I caught a flicker of concern and an image. Patrice.
“He’ll survive,” I shrugged. I didn’t care.
“He won’t,” he said softly, closing his eyes. He was processing this information, picking at it in his mind until only the truth was left, shining and raw. He exhaled as if to rid himself of it. Survival. He’d learned quickly.
Now he was staring at me openly, taking in every detail of my appearance. I wore a simple white shirt and pale jeans; a costume of invisibility. My unchanging face had been on the cover of that old rock album, but I could feel him sifting through the negligible differences now I stood before him. My skin was not as white as it had once been, although it wouldn’t be long before it was very much whiter. My hair was loose and wild. I wore my usual sapphire ring and I had a gold watch on my wrist because I liked to hear it tick. He was drawn to the preternatural blaze in my eyes and he wasn’t afraid.
“Lestat,” he said aloud, as if it made me real. “Is all of it true?”
I knew what he meant. “There have always been a few tricks for the mortals, and I no longer publish my own revelations,” I smiled, “but everything you’ve read is probably true.”
He digested that statement for a moment.
“What about the Queen...? The red-haired twins…?” I simply nodded.
“And the others? What about Armand?”
“Yes, cher, perfectly real, but stay clear of him.”
“He’d kill me like you killed Thérèse?” What could I say to that? I nodded again, but I wasn’t so sure. Armand didn’t tolerate new orphans like Claude, but there was something about the boy that might intrigue even him.
“And Louis…?” he added, stepping closer.
“And Louis, yes, very real,” I laughed, “but something tells me that he might not approve of me acquiring you. In fact, I’m sure of it. Incidentally, you don’t happen to know where that dratted ring is, do you?”
He brightened, glad to be useful at last. “The Talamasca have it. They cleaned up after us.”
“You didn’t take part,” I reminded him. “Don’t hang on to the guilt of others, cher, you’ll soon have plenty of your own.”
“I don’t feel guilty when I kill,” Claude said bluntly. I merely smiled. What it was to be young.
“Why did you let me live?” he asked, suddenly. “Am I yours now?”
“You owe me nothing.” A shade of disappointment touched his face. How much easier it is to be a follower. I wondered how his guiltless heart would fare without someone else to take the blame.
“You’re not my slave,” I said. “Go if you wish.”
“What am I then?” he whispered, his face stricken. His entire immortal life had centered on his two companions. “I don’t know what to do.” The trees shook with a sudden breeze. The distant clang of a church bell sounded the hour. I let his panic settle back into a place of calm.
“But you do know time isn’t always your enemy. It can gift you anything you want. If you can endure it.” I touched his silky hair.
He understood, and a light came into his face again as he realized he was not alone.
Finally, he spoke again. “The Talamasca took everything to the Motherhouse, even the body.” I frowned. It hadn’t occurred to me that they might do this.
“All right.” I said. “What are we waiting for?” We had plenty of time to get to Paris.
He shook his head. “Oh no, not Paris. They spoke in English.”
Of course. All roads lead to the London Motherhouse. I rolled my eyes. The sky was clear, tiny wisps of cloud feathering the horizon.
Suddenly, I grasped him around the waist. “Have you ever been to London?”