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The first time that Lestat came through my window, I was terrified. I knew who he was, of course. I knew that he liked to toy with mortals, to befriend them, compliment them, and shower them with his attention and his gifts. Things seldom ended well for the mortals.
Although it is impossible for a human being, especially an elderly man in failing health, to overcome a physical assault from a vampire, there are certain techniques that can help mortals overcome their mental manipulations.
“M. le Marquis,” I said politely, willing myself to remain calm. “What an unexpected pleasure! I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m David Talbot.”
“Please, let us disregard these tedious formalities,” the vampire said. “Call me Lestat and I will call you David.”
He held out his hand for me to shake, and I reluctantly took a step or two towards him, grasping his hand. I forced a pleasant smile on to my face to disguise my fear, though I’m sure this most powerful vampire sensed it.
We talked that evening – or rather Lestat talked and I listened. He was an amusing and accomplished raconteur, and it would have been easy to have been drawn into his words, to forget caution, to relax. I used all the tricks and techniques at my disposal to resist his charms. I took care never to meet his gaze directly, always looking at him slightly to the side. When I felt his words drawing me in, capturing me, I’d pull my attention away. I’d concentrate on the ticking of the Swiss watch on my wrist - a family heirloom – or the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and let his voice fade away. I am sure that Lestat noticed these tricks and that they amused him.
He talked of his former lover, Louis. Louis had betrayed him on numerous occasions. Louis constantly misjudged him – always thinking that Lestat acted out of the worst of motives.
“He thinks that thinks that I chose him for his wealth and his plantation. He underestimates both of us! I chose him because he was a thing of beauty that I could not bear to see destroyed.
I was too gentle with him. I admit it. If Marius had seen me, he would have despaired! Marius whipped Armand when the imp misbehaved, taught him to call Marius ‘master’ and to obey him in all things…but I never had the heart to punish Louis! I wanted us to be equals, not master and servant. I was afraid of becoming like my brute of a father, but I erred in being too lenient…”
This was only the first of many such visits. He talked of other things of course – of cruel Akasha, whom he had loved, and of the excitement of being a rock star and holding an audience of thousands in the palm of his hand. But then, inevitably, his conversation would return to Louis. He would begin by listing Louis’s faults: his petty cruelties, his lies, half-truths and evasions, his pathetic weaknesses. I’d listen attentively and make appropriate comments. Then his conversation would turn to Louis’s beautiful green eyes, his thick dark hair, and his lithe, willowy body – his waist so small that Lestat swore that he could span it with his hands.
I thought I knew what Lestat was doing. The powerful vampire knew that his relationship with Louis was harmful to both of them, but he still wanted him. Louis, with those cursed green eyes and his deceptive air of scholarly melancholy, was his addiction. Anyone who’s tried to quit smoking or stop drinking can tell you how much effort it takes to quit. This was a talking cure. Lestat had come to me for support - to me, not to Marius! I was flattered.
I never wanted to be a vampire. Lestat forced this god-forsaken existence upon me, but I forgave him. How could I not? He gave me eternity.
As a leader of the Talamasca, I knew all about vampires. But knowing something isn’t the same as living it. Lestat, my beloved Maker, was generous in sharing his experiences, and I wanted to repay him by showing him a part of my world.
At first, our trip to Brazil was everything we could have hoped for. We went deep into the furthest reaches of the Amazon basin, seeking out the knowledge of the shamans and mystics of that remote and dangerous region. My Brazilian Portuguese was rusty and my Tucano was worse, but language didn’t matter anymore. As a vampire, I could read thoughts and communicate without speaking a word. I could have spent several lifetimes among the sharmans, learning secrets that the rest of the world has forgotten, and I thought (mistakenly) that Lestat felt as I did.
Lestat told me that he wanted to take a break from our studies and spend Carnival in Rio, and he invited me to join him. He took me to a mansion overlooking the harbour. A high wall and an excellent security system protected us from intruders and sturdy shutters kept out the sunlight. The light and airy rooms were full of fresh flowers and colourful and intriguing works of art. There was a state-of-the-art entertainment centre and a well-stocked library with books and magazines in French, English and Portuguese. Everything that we might want had been provided.
“There are three bedrooms,” Lestat said. “The one in the back is Louis’s, because it faces the garden and will be away from the street lights and the sound of traffic. Louis dislikes bright lights and loud noises.”
“Louis?”
“Louis will be joining us. Just for the Carnival. Otherwise, he would have been obliged to spend it in New York with Armand, who is in the midst of some kind of ‘situation’ with Daniel. New York is cold and rainy this time of year, and Louis would have to watch Armand take apart vacuum cleaners and put them back together again, which is what the imp does when he is distraught. I asked Louis in a moment of impulsive and uncharacteristic sympathy.”
“You’ve invited Armand as well?”
“Of course not. I would not inflict Armand’s company on you, my dear David! Credit me with having some sense.”
I struggled to find a way to express myself tactfully.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? After you’ve worked so hard to disentangle yourself from Louis, this seems to be a step in the wrong direction.”
“Why would I want to disentangle myself from Louis?” Lestat asked.
“Your relationship is toxic. He tried to kill you!”
Lestat nodded. “But things are better now. Louis is drinking human blood now, which has stabilized his mood swings, and I have the blood of the ancients in me now, so I’m much harder to kill. No need to worry. ”
I worried, of course. Louis arrived the next evening, having borrowed one of Armand’s planes for the flight from New York. He was neatly and conservatively dressed in a grey suit of lightweight cloth, suitable for the climate. He kissed Lestat on the cheek, his pale lips brushing against that cold sculptural flesh, and then stepped forward to shake my hand. His famous eyes were indeed as green as a cat’s and there was something feline in the sleek, economical way that he moved.
I’ve always disliked cats.
Carnival came and went, but Louis stayed. He would leave briefly ‘on business’ but would return after a few days or a week at most. He talked now and again of leaving, but Lestat would talk him out of it.
Louis and I were scrupulously polite with each other in Lestat’s presence, but when Lestat was out one evening, I let Louis know my real sentiments.
“I want you to go,” I said. “I’m Lestat’s fledgling and I need and deserve some time with my Maker to learn our ways.”
“You are too modest. As a high-ranking member of the Talamasca,” he said, maintaining a veneer of politesse, “you must be quite familiar with our ways.”
“You need to leave,” I said bluntly. “ Lestat may be too polite to tell you that you’ve overstayed your welcome, but I’m not constrained by 18th Century ideas of etiquette.”
“Neither is Lestat,” Louis said, allowing himself a small, almost-human smile. “If Lestat wanted me gone, he would not hesitate to tell me so.”
“This place, this time, it’s rightfully mine. I am his fledgling and it belongs to me.”
“I must correct you there. This place belongs to me. I find it most disconcerting that you are trying to kick me out of my own home.”
“Your home?”
“Yes, I have properties in South America, mainly in Brazil and Argentina, and this is where I stay when I have business here.”
I looked around the room, suddenly feeling very foolish. Lestat had told me that Louis lived in a shack on a decaying estate. It had never occurred to me that he might choose to live in a dilapidated shack when he had other residences to choose from.
“I don’t understand this sudden hostility. When have I ever tried to keep you away from Lestat?” Louis asked. “Indeed, I have made efforts to be tactfully absent so that you and your Maker can have time alone together.”
“You had no interest in him. You turned your back on him when he needed you. And now that he has found happiness with me, you walk back into his life to reclaim him as if he were a piece of lost property. You had your chance with him! Now leave him alone!”
Louis’s green eyes sparkled with an emotion I couldn’t read.
“Lucky Lestat to have a fledgling so willing to fight for his attention! I am sure that he is enjoying the situation thoroughly. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to see us arguing over him. However, I refuse to cater to his already bloated sense of self-worth by engaging in a humiliating contest for his affection.”
“Because you’d lose,” I said, regretting the childish words as soon as they left my mouth.
“Lestat is infatuated with you, as he has been with a thousand others before you, and will be with a hundred thousand after you,” Louis said. “Be happy that it is only infatuation. You will be with him for a few years or a few months, and you’ll part, and when you see him again, as you surely will, you’ll share pleasant memories.”
Louis’s arrogance was astounding. I struggled to remain calm and in control of my emotions – something that had become much more difficult since I became a vampire.
“If you are so certain that what we have is only infatuation, why don’t you leave? Step away from this ‘humiliating contest’.”
“You think that I can just walk away from Lestat? Our Maker is a hunter. He lives for the chase. If I run away, his instinct will be to go after me.
It pleases Lestat to have me here, and it pleases me to make him happy. You will have your chance, I promise. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
I’d like to be able to say that I drove Louis away, but that simply isn’t true. He left of his own accord after a terrible argument with Lestat over nothing more significant than a stray dog. The animal adored Lestat but was hostile to anyone else other than his beloved master. He growled and snapped at Louis once too often, and Louis complained to Lestat, demanding that he either train his dog or get rid of him.
Lestat does not like ultimatums.
Louis and Lestat do not argue in English nor even in proper French. When they fight they speak a kind of bastard mixture of French, American English, and Spanish with the swear words of half a dozen other sea-faring nations mixed in. It’s the low argot of the most disreputable bars and brothels frequented by the sailors of 18th Century New Orleans, and it’s absolutely unintelligible to anyone else but Louis and Lestat. Lestat bellowed like a bull, making the windows shake, and Louis hissed and spat like a cornered wildcat, and I couldn’t understand a word of it.
The next day Louis was gone, and after a week of brooding and bad temper, Lestat left as well. I waited three weeks for him to come back; then I gave the dog to a shelter with a generous donation for its upkeep and went back into the jungle.
I’ve remained close to Lestat, of course, but I’ve never warmed to Louis. We’re scrupulously polite in public, of course. Lestat thinks that we’re friends and brags about bringing us together, and Louis and I smile and let him think what he wants to think. We get along well enough, but we’re not friends.
I even saved Louis’s life once. That was, of course, after the regrettable business with Merrick. He made a solemn promise to me not to turn Merrick – a promise he broke almost immediately. Sweet, generous Merrick tried to take the blame for his treachery. She said that she had put both of us under some kind of love spell. But it was only Louis who was weak enough to succumb to it! It had no effect on me. It was typical of Merrick - so beautiful and so good - to excuse Louis’s broken promise and to make his weakness her fault. Poor Merrick! I mourn her still.
I fear that I’ve been rambling. I am an old man in a young man’s body, after all, and reminiscing is an old man’s vice. So let me say only this: my tastes are well-known and almost tediously conventional. I like curvaceous feminine women and broad-shouldered masculine men. Louis’s epicene beauty has no hold on me. I am not blinded by desire. I see him clearly where others cannot.