Part 2 - Dreams Revisited " I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well ..." Shakespeare, The Sonnets "Enough! I can't stand it any longer!" Lestat thought bad-tempered and threw the little booklet down on the floor. "I'm done with waiting!" Quickly he rose from his bed where he had lain since sunset, musing. "I know I promised I would not follow him, but now I have to. I can't be without him any longer. I need him more than anything in the world!" Running a hand carelessly through his wild mane he looked down at the crumpled note which he had surely read countless times before: Lestat, mon amour, Almost breaks my heart to write this but I have to leave you for now as I must take my time to come to terms with what has happened to me. How can I ever thank you for all that you have done for me. Please believe me it is my fondest wish to be truly reunited with you soon, but for the time being I have to be on my own. I hope so much you'll understand this. Be assured you have my unconditional love - forever. Louis The elegant hand-writing began to dissolve before his eyes. He swallowed - ah, yes this was indeed hard to swallow! Not a single line indicating where he had gone! Not a word when he would come back! All of a sudden those nights came back to him, those heavenly first nights after the two of them had been reborn. It had been a new life for Louis who had always been the weakest among them and had now gained such immense powers, but for Lestat as well, after those endless months spent in deathlike sleep on the stone floor of St. Elizabeth's . Caught in the arms of nothingness. Lost in dreams, haunting irrational dreams. Sweet oblivion. He had not had the will to rise from that state, not until he had learned about Louis' horrible, desperate act. Gone into the sun! Louis who had once said, "I will never seek to end it." How enormous must have been his despair! Only then, when he had realized that without Louis his existence would be truly meaningless, had Lestat found the strength to rise again. What bliss those first nights had been! Waking up in each other's arms marvelling at the sheer miracle that they still had each other. Touching and kissing each other so tenderly as if they had never touched and kissed before. Countless hours had they lain side by side, silently at first, simply enjoying each other's presence. "Do you remember ..?" "Did you know ...?" Words whispered in the darkness against the other's naked skin. Words they had not dared to speak in the past. Like tiny drops of rain appearing out of nowhere, falling down slowly at first, but pouring down in gushing torrents then. Words to express their fears, their countless misunderstandings, but also and above all the overwhelming love they felt for each other. "You are my life ..." "I couldn't go on without you ..." Not very soon after that fateful letter had arrived from the Talamasca elders which finally made them give up their residence in New Orleans. It was then that Louis had decided to leave them. Merrick had been pleading Louis desperately not to go away - not so soon. David had given him a long questioning glance. "You do not have to be afraid for me," Louis answered quietly but firmly. " I will not try to do away with myself again. I doubt if I ever could do that now - but that's behind me. I am past all my fears and despair. I want to take to the world again, to revisit the life out there in a way a only we can." He looked at Lestat for the longest time. There were hints of sadness around the corners of his mouth, but his eyes were clear and unperturbed like a tranquil pond deep in the forest. "I don't know where my journey will take me. Nor when I'll return." "Oui, mon ami. Go - if you must," Lestat answered hoarsely, his hands tracing Louis' cheekbones. "I know I've been selfish. I have kept you too long." "Lestat, it was my own free will to watch over you. I never could have left you lying there - like you were dead and gone already." "No, you couldn't. But I left you. I was not there to watch over you when you would have needed me most. When you've started this adventure," he said shooting a glance at Merrick, "this absurd witchcraft experiment ..." Louis smiled silently. "You're the one to talk, after all the outrageous ventures you've made. Surely, you would have been the most suitable person to talk me out of this." "Ah, but we learn through the mistakes we make, n'est-ce pas? Lestat shrugged his shoulders. But the gloomy look in his eyes belied his put on attitude of nonchalance. "Louis, don't leave me!" "How could I ever leave you," Louis answered taking Lestat's face in his hands. "How could I - ever?" he whispered and kissed him tenderly. "But don't speak of tomorrow now. Tonight's the night. And tonight I am here. In your arms. And I am all yours." "You are?" Lestat breathed putting his arms around Louis and drawing him closer. "Yes, I am. Shall we go upstairs and ...," he kissed Lestat again languorously, " I'll prove it to you." "Ah, that last night", Lestat thought. "It should never have ended ...." *** The next evening, however, Louis was gone. That had been almost half a year ago. Not a word, not a message since then. Like eternity it had seemed to Lestat. And he felt that he already had more than his fair share of eternity. Now that he had finally recognized what he really felt for Louis he did not want to lose him again like he had so many times in the past. So Lestat was overjoyed when he received information from Armand that he had glimpsed Louis at the French Riviera in a little village not far away from Cannes. It had seemed that Louis had taken up quarters in an old monastery which had been abandoned centuries ago. Naturally, Lestat was determined to follow him. He simply could not resist the temptation. Just imagine - spring time at the Mediterranean! Walking barefoot on the fine sands of a lonely beach under a mid-night blue sky - hand in hand with Louis! And so it came that only two nights later Lestat was already installed in one of the finest hotels at "La Croisette" in Cannes wallowing in that "rank materialism" and divine luxury to which he had always been partial. That small village which Armand had mentioned was about half an hour's flight to the north of Cannes. Even if he could not reach Louis telepathically it should not be too difficult to locate his beloved fledgling there. Thrilled at the prospect of seeing Louis again, he felt his heart pounding with anticipation. When Lestat finally arrived at the small quiet village up in the rugged mountains he found everything as Armand had described it. Yes, this had to be the old monastery, a decayed but still beautiful structure dating back to the Middle Ages. Memories of his own childhood came back to him, that brief, but happy time spent in the monastery under the graceful statues of saints, where he had been sitting for hours enchanted by the colourful illustrations of the ancient books which had opened a new world for him. Long before that fatal wolf hunt had taken place. Long before he as a striving young actor had aroused the desire of that creature of the night who had finally overthrown his destiny for ever. Well, another lifetime that had been - centuries ago - but he was still there, still wandering under the same stars despite all he had endured, despite all the terrible mistakes he had made. The moon was shining high and the night air was filled with the faint scents of herbs and acacia trees and peonies and when he looked up at the starry sky he felt something almost like happiness. The ancient building, however, was dark and deserted - no traces of Louis anywhere to be found. So he decided to talk a walk through the little village which seemed some sort of artists' colony. Colourful posters at some of the grey stone cottages announced art exhibitions, at some doors little signs with the opening hours of the artists' workshops could be found. On his way Lestat passed a small garden surrounded by low stone walls with a number of bizarre looking modern sculptures made of wood and metal. Some of them seemed to be moving objects and made little tingling sounds as they were slightly stirring in the night air. All of a sudden he caught glimpses from a mortal's mind and his heartbeat almost stopped: This mind with was filled with images from his green-eyed lover! And what images these were! Without making a sound he approached the old house peering through the long French doors. What he saw there made him stop abruptly in his tracks. It was as if a knife was stabbed right through his chest again, deeply, furiously, and twisted around and around to multiply the pain. Ah, the shape edge of jealousy - how it hurt! In the bright moonlight he could clearly see two figures entangled on a large bed. And there he was: His Beautiful One. The love of his live. Passionately making love to young man who was writhing frantically in his strong pale arms. Lestat could not avert his eyes from these two who were working each other with such a fierce abandon. He wanted to turn away but he simply could not. As if glued to the spot he watched Louis - his gentle Louis, who had always seemed to him the perfect embodiment of a perfect gentleman, a lover of books and other quiet pleasures - how he thrust into that young man again and again, making him scream with passion. But it was not only jealousy he felt ... "Oh Louis, how I wish you would do this to me," he whispered. He had to think of Louis' cold and passionless kisses, of those times when an unfathomable mask of indifference stared back at him over the vast abyss of misunderstandings and accusations which had separated them for so long. But only recently he had come to know Louis's other side as well. Those precious moments when at last he had given up all his reserves, his eyes half-closed, short gasps escaping his lips, his face transformed in ecstasy. Ah, the sublime rapture of their long mutual blood exchanges, of their last night together - the mere thought of it filled him with a desperate longing. "How I wish I could join you ..." To touch that cold skin, to feel that silken hair, to rain kisses all over that marvellous body - the mere idea made him burn with desire. He felt his breath coming faster. He shivered when Louis finally took the young man and sank his teeth into his victim's neck. From the young man's mind he caught a wild torrent of images and all he could do was murmur in return: "Louis, mon amour, je t'adore ..." Very soon after that, Louis released the young man. Even in the dark of the night Lestat could perceive the happiness on Louis's face, the sheer joy that he had been able to spare the mortal's life. With all the power that Lestat had installed in him he was now able to content himself with the "little drink". Lestat turned away - he did not want to disturb this intimate scene any longer. Also, he was afraid that Louis with his fine vampiric senses might somehow feel that he was being watched. And he knew quite well how Louis would possibly react when he discovered that Lestat had been watching him. Furious would be a mild understatement for his state of mind then. And to be received with red-hot searing rage was not what Lestat had in mind for their reunion. True, Louis was never more delectable as when he became incensed - for example when Lestat had been teasing him without end or because of other trifles - but this, as he was well aware, was not just a trifle but a major indiscretion, a breech of trust which Louis would never tolerate. So out into the moonlit night he walked, moving through the deserted village streets like a shadow. He went back to the monastery and sat down under the pillars of the cloister. His longing for Louis was almost unbearable. But would Louis be willing to see him again? He himself had experienced only too well how fatally in love one could fall with a mortal. What if exactly this was happening to Louis right now? What should he do now? Yes, he'd always been a man of action, but how many blunders had he made in the past by just acting on impulse? "Be careful," he told himself. Louis definitely was a sensitive case and he simply deserved better. This time, for a change, he didn't want to bungle anything. Because he loved him. I am to wait, though waiting so be hell ... Ah, what should he do? Somehow his mind had gone blank as countless images of that passionate scene were tumbling through his head. In any case it was no good staying here much longer. Maybe even wait for Louis to come back to the monastery where he probably had his hiding place somewhere. What if Louis actually returned and found him there? What should he say to his unfaithful lover? Lestat only knew too well how he would react in his present state of mind. Certainly, he would not be at a loss for words then, rash harsh words, he was sure to regret soon after. Charges and accusations only leading up to new misunderstandings. So he fumbled out a piece of paper and started to write: Louis, mon cher ami, "Quand tu reviens à moi ? (When will you come back to me?) J'ai besoin de toi. (I need you.) Je ne peux vivre sans toi (I can't live without you.) Je t'aime - pour toujours (I love you - for ever) LdL Scribbling the address of this hotel on the back he left the note under a stone on an old sandstone table, hoping that Louis would discover it there, and vanished into the night. |
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