Christmas in London
The Christmas party was a typical Lestat-style celebration, but this year, the mortal guests seemed to outnumber our kind. All of them knew who and what we were and I found that to be both unsettling and exhilarating.
I felt eyes follow me as I rose from my chair and moved across the room. I was, most likely, the oldest and most powerful immortal that they had ever encountered and their fear electrified the air around us. If nothing else, they believed me to be unpredictable and without a trace of the kind and generous nature of their host. In this, they were correct.
The clank of glass and the hum of the cooling system masked the creak of the cellar door as I closed it behind me. Silently, I descended the stone staircase and stood watching as Lestat pulled one bottle after another from the racks. He inspected each label before either sliding the bottle back in place or tucking it beneath his arm. Only the very finest vintages would be good enough for his guests.
With an arm full of wine bottles, he turned to make his way back upstairs. He smiled when he saw me there.
Closing the space between us, he reached out to brush a stray curl from my face and tuck it behind my ear. It was always the hair. He knew how much I disliked anyone touching it and he made a point of doing exactly that. Our eyes met and I could feel that familiar tension. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Of that, I was certain.
He moved to pass me and I stretched out both arms, pressing my palms against the cool stone walls on either side of the staircase, effectively blocking his path.
His laugh was warm and affectionate, but his foot still rested on the step next to mine and his free hand had taken hold of the railing.
“What?” This was followed by an exasperated sigh.
Without moving my hands from the wall, I leaned my upper body closer to his, bowing my head until my lips were almost touching his neck. “You know what…” I breathed the words onto his skin and saw his muscles tense.
His head moved slightly until his cheek was against mine. His flesh was warm from a recent kill. I wondered how many of his mortal guests knew that he had taken a life no more than an hour or so before their arrival as a means of ensuring their safety. He inhaled deeply then pulled away. I caught a flash of Louis’ face in his thoughts. I nearly laughed out loud at his valiant effort to resist me for the sake of his jealous lover.
“Out of the way, Armand.”
“I’m not moving.” These words I spoke aloud, but my mind told his that Louis would never know. No one would know.
“This isn’t a game.” His tone was serious, but the hint of a smile still lingered on his lips.
“No, it's not a game,” I replied. My own smile widened. “I've already kept you too long. You'd better hurry back to your guests." I hadn’t moved a muscle. I was daring him to try to pass me.
“Are we really going to do this? Move!”
“No.” I braced myself for what I knew would come next.
His grip on the bottles tightened and he turned slightly to one side, moving forward while pushing his shoulder into me. I held my ground.
A bottle fell to the floor and shattered at our feet. Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru, 1990. I recognized the deep scent of red cherries, plums, and sweet spice almost instantly, despite having never tasted the wine myself. It wasn’t quite as valuable as the vintages I keep in my own cellars, but still an expensive thing to waste.
“Now look what you've done,” I chided.
His smile vanished. “I'm not in the mood for your games,” he growled. “Get out of my way!”
I said nothing. Remaining as immobile as the stone walls at my sides.
He kept his gaze locked to mine as he set the bottles down on a nearby table. Minutes ticked by, but his attempts to stare me down were in vain. I cannot be intimidated.
Footsteps on the floor above our heads caught my attention and I glanced upward for less than a second. This provided Lestat with the distraction he needed to kick my legs out from beneath me. I stumbled back, catching the railing to keep myself upright. He attempted push past me once again, but I curled my legs tight against myself then kicked out with all of my strength, flinging him backwards against the wine rack across from us. More bottles crashed to the ground. The air was thick with the scent of fermented fruit and frustration.
His retaliation was immediate. I hadn’t yet regained my footing when he let out a mighty roar and threw himself at me causing us both to tumble back onto the stairs. He held me there for just a bit too long, with one hand pressing against my shoulder and the other gripping the concrete step beside my head. His breaths were deep and shuddering. I knew that the battle he was having with his own conscience would soon be lost.
The sudden change in the pressure of his hand against me triggered the realization that this wasn’t quite over. He pushed off of me in one last futile attempt at a freedom that he didn’t truly desire. He was fast, but I was faster. I caught the front of his shirt before he could rise and pulled him back down, devouring his mouth with mine.
When my teeth finally broke his skin, I savoured the taste of victory.
Eventually, he returned to his guests; shirt torn, fresh bruises upon his throat and wine forgotten. I emerged from the cellar minutes later, straightening my hopelessly crumpled suit. We rejoined the gathering at the dining room table. Lestat taking his seat beside Louis and I beside Owen.
An uncomfortable silence descended upon those around us. Greg feigned a cough, Owen pushed a small green vegetable around his plate with a fork and Daniel chuckled derisively.
In a motion that seemed almost nonchalant, Louis reached out to Lexia’s plate and carefully removed her steak knife. I raised a quizzical eyebrow as he wiped the blade clean with a gold coloured silk napkin. I attempted to read his mind, but not a trace of emotion could be found. If he was thinking or feeling anything at all in that moment, he had concealed it perfectly. That is why his next act was so completely unexpected.
With lightning speed, his fist closed around handle of the knife and he plunged the blade through the back of Lestat’s hand and into the table beneath it. His gaze met mine for just an instant before he stood and left the room.
Lestat made a sound that could only be described as a mixture of surprise and pain. His chair scraped the floor as he leaned forward, clutching the knife handle and pulling it from the wound. Blood had pooled on the table beneath his palm and this drew the immediate attention of every vampire in the room and at least one mortal as well.
Without a word to his guests, Lestat dropped the knife to the floor and took off after Louis.
My laughter filled the room.
I felt eyes follow me as I rose from my chair and moved across the room. I was, most likely, the oldest and most powerful immortal that they had ever encountered and their fear electrified the air around us. If nothing else, they believed me to be unpredictable and without a trace of the kind and generous nature of their host. In this, they were correct.
The clank of glass and the hum of the cooling system masked the creak of the cellar door as I closed it behind me. Silently, I descended the stone staircase and stood watching as Lestat pulled one bottle after another from the racks. He inspected each label before either sliding the bottle back in place or tucking it beneath his arm. Only the very finest vintages would be good enough for his guests.
With an arm full of wine bottles, he turned to make his way back upstairs. He smiled when he saw me there.
Closing the space between us, he reached out to brush a stray curl from my face and tuck it behind my ear. It was always the hair. He knew how much I disliked anyone touching it and he made a point of doing exactly that. Our eyes met and I could feel that familiar tension. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Of that, I was certain.
He moved to pass me and I stretched out both arms, pressing my palms against the cool stone walls on either side of the staircase, effectively blocking his path.
His laugh was warm and affectionate, but his foot still rested on the step next to mine and his free hand had taken hold of the railing.
“What?” This was followed by an exasperated sigh.
Without moving my hands from the wall, I leaned my upper body closer to his, bowing my head until my lips were almost touching his neck. “You know what…” I breathed the words onto his skin and saw his muscles tense.
His head moved slightly until his cheek was against mine. His flesh was warm from a recent kill. I wondered how many of his mortal guests knew that he had taken a life no more than an hour or so before their arrival as a means of ensuring their safety. He inhaled deeply then pulled away. I caught a flash of Louis’ face in his thoughts. I nearly laughed out loud at his valiant effort to resist me for the sake of his jealous lover.
“Out of the way, Armand.”
“I’m not moving.” These words I spoke aloud, but my mind told his that Louis would never know. No one would know.
“This isn’t a game.” His tone was serious, but the hint of a smile still lingered on his lips.
“No, it's not a game,” I replied. My own smile widened. “I've already kept you too long. You'd better hurry back to your guests." I hadn’t moved a muscle. I was daring him to try to pass me.
“Are we really going to do this? Move!”
“No.” I braced myself for what I knew would come next.
His grip on the bottles tightened and he turned slightly to one side, moving forward while pushing his shoulder into me. I held my ground.
A bottle fell to the floor and shattered at our feet. Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru, 1990. I recognized the deep scent of red cherries, plums, and sweet spice almost instantly, despite having never tasted the wine myself. It wasn’t quite as valuable as the vintages I keep in my own cellars, but still an expensive thing to waste.
“Now look what you've done,” I chided.
His smile vanished. “I'm not in the mood for your games,” he growled. “Get out of my way!”
I said nothing. Remaining as immobile as the stone walls at my sides.
He kept his gaze locked to mine as he set the bottles down on a nearby table. Minutes ticked by, but his attempts to stare me down were in vain. I cannot be intimidated.
Footsteps on the floor above our heads caught my attention and I glanced upward for less than a second. This provided Lestat with the distraction he needed to kick my legs out from beneath me. I stumbled back, catching the railing to keep myself upright. He attempted push past me once again, but I curled my legs tight against myself then kicked out with all of my strength, flinging him backwards against the wine rack across from us. More bottles crashed to the ground. The air was thick with the scent of fermented fruit and frustration.
His retaliation was immediate. I hadn’t yet regained my footing when he let out a mighty roar and threw himself at me causing us both to tumble back onto the stairs. He held me there for just a bit too long, with one hand pressing against my shoulder and the other gripping the concrete step beside my head. His breaths were deep and shuddering. I knew that the battle he was having with his own conscience would soon be lost.
The sudden change in the pressure of his hand against me triggered the realization that this wasn’t quite over. He pushed off of me in one last futile attempt at a freedom that he didn’t truly desire. He was fast, but I was faster. I caught the front of his shirt before he could rise and pulled him back down, devouring his mouth with mine.
When my teeth finally broke his skin, I savoured the taste of victory.
Eventually, he returned to his guests; shirt torn, fresh bruises upon his throat and wine forgotten. I emerged from the cellar minutes later, straightening my hopelessly crumpled suit. We rejoined the gathering at the dining room table. Lestat taking his seat beside Louis and I beside Owen.
An uncomfortable silence descended upon those around us. Greg feigned a cough, Owen pushed a small green vegetable around his plate with a fork and Daniel chuckled derisively.
In a motion that seemed almost nonchalant, Louis reached out to Lexia’s plate and carefully removed her steak knife. I raised a quizzical eyebrow as he wiped the blade clean with a gold coloured silk napkin. I attempted to read his mind, but not a trace of emotion could be found. If he was thinking or feeling anything at all in that moment, he had concealed it perfectly. That is why his next act was so completely unexpected.
With lightning speed, his fist closed around handle of the knife and he plunged the blade through the back of Lestat’s hand and into the table beneath it. His gaze met mine for just an instant before he stood and left the room.
Lestat made a sound that could only be described as a mixture of surprise and pain. His chair scraped the floor as he leaned forward, clutching the knife handle and pulling it from the wound. Blood had pooled on the table beneath his palm and this drew the immediate attention of every vampire in the room and at least one mortal as well.
Without a word to his guests, Lestat dropped the knife to the floor and took off after Louis.
My laughter filled the room.