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Louis was dazed and light-headed as he opened his eyes. Blood seemed to coat every inch of the wood floors. It was a gruesome scene; bodies of friends and family that Louis was vaguely able to recall, scattered across the church floors. A murder scene. Plain and simple.
It, the blood, smelt wonderful. Like he was standing in the middle of a grape vineyard.
Louis sat up straight. The piercing cries of a woman pleading for mercy echoed from the outside, their origin seemingly distant yet oddly magnified, as if each desperate scream were going directly into his ears. The screaming was cut short. Louis shivered.
Louis’ gaze shifted toward Father de Lioncourt; who stood before him, a vision of youth and beauty that perfectly matched Louis' memories from over fifty years ago. Blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled. Drying blood coating his nose and mouth.
With his new eyes, Louis was almost certain that he could see the rhythmic pulsations of the Father's heartbeat. A radiant glow thumped from the chest, the neck, and wrist, with the brilliance reaching its brightest near the heart一the very source of the steady drumming that rang in Louis's ears.
As the surge of adrenaline subsided, the awe of his gruesome surroundings was replaced by an overwhelming sensation of pain. It wasn't an average ache from a singular hunger; instead, it concentrated in his stomach and mouth, similar to the gnawing emptiness one might associate with a man who had long deprived himself of water. For years.
The pain etched its presence, sharp and insistent, emphasizing the void that hunger had carved within him.
Father de Lioncourt hesitantly held his hand out, as if he wanted to help but did not trust himself to get any closer to the widower. Louis reached out, his fingers wrapping around Lestat's, exerting a firm pull that brought the man down to the cold, ancient floors of the church with him.
“Did it …?” Lestat didn’t finish his sentence, and Louis didn’t have time for his antics.
“Did what?” Louis winced at the sound of his new voice. No more the rugged, raspy resonance of a man accustomed to a pack of cigarettes per day; he sounded like he was a kid again. Judging by how smooth and unblemished his hands were, he probably looked twenty too.
Father de Lioncourt inhaled a shaky breath. “When you died, Louis. Did it hurt?”
“It did.” Was Louis’ curt response. He had no desire to linger on the subject.
Louis could feel his throat going dry, even dryer if possible. He tried not to focus on how the Father’s inhuman blue eyes seemed to reflect off the candlelight. Or hear the way the priest’s heart hammered (twinned) in his chest.
“No words can express how regretful I am. I never wanted this.”
Louis nodded his head, not fully understanding Lestat’s words, unable to tear his attention from the hypnotic beat
Lestat continued to speak aways, apologies and more dramatic declarations of love, Louis was sure. That’s not what Louis cared for at the moment. Instead, Louis daydreamed of pulling Lestat closer, bringing their lips together, tangling his fingers in his hair. Biting into those very lips, hard enough to draw blood.
But that wouldn’t be enough. He would plead with Lestat, only for a second, before pulling his head to the side, exposing his pale neck that would show the delicate blue and purple veins that sang to him. Biting and drinking and fucking. Louis wanted it all. This moment. Les would understand his desires; and surrender without any resistance. Would give in with no fuss at all. Louis was sure.
“一audia and Lily.”
Claudia? Louis tried to blink away the thoughts, refocusing his attention on Lestat.
“I’m sorry I hated her, because I didn’t, I love her as a creation of God and all those made under Him. But I did hate her.” Lestat shook his head, not looking at Louis but rather at The Virgin Mary weeping in the candlelight. “I hated how she binded the two of you.” A laugh escaped frowning lips, “as man and wife. Your baby. A family!
“And I could have never have predicted the love that I would grow for that girl, no matter how hard I fought it. And Lord forgive me, because I did fight it.” The tears fell. “A girl that grew to be as beautiful and brilliant as you, Louis. Saint Louis. Her一I don’t know how to say this in English or French一it was her beauty that overshadowed the jealousy and ugliness,” Lestat spat the word, “that oozed from my very being.”
Louis was able to understand jealousy more than anyone. Louis placed his hand over Lestat’s, ignoring the tremble of nerves that buzzed through his body. A bubble of hysterical giggles escaped Louis’ lips. “She’s actually a lot more like you than she is me.”
A sob echoed off the walls of the church.
“Such a childish thing, my jealousy.” Lestat turned his head to look directly at Louis, tears filling his eyes as he smiled sadly. “She一 Lily de Point du Lac 一was able to give you the one thing I could not. The one thing I would never be able to provide you一because let’s be honest.” Lestat paused, another scream in the distance, more than one scream at once, from multiple directions. “We would tear each other apart sooner or later.”
Buildings breaking. Window glass chattering to the ground in a harmony of clings.
“We would have been together?” Louis offered, "Ripping each other apart? Destroying everything we touch? Sent to hell for giving into the sin of lust? Standing in a goddamn church, paraded in front of the whole damn town?"
Louis’ tongue had become loose with hunger-numbness that wrapped around his mind and body. Perhaps it was this very numbness that emboldened him to utter aloud, "Would we have been husbands? Silver rings around our fingers." The truth. The shame that seemed to follow both of them for decades.
Pure agony that was caved into Lestat’s features, blond brows drawn together tightly. The light over his chest spread up, seeming to threaten to explode.
Lestat’s face twisted even more, a sob that was unable to escape. Still, the priest nodded his head, “We would have married ...” Lestat laughed, more bitter than the first time. “Can you imagine?” Louis could. “We would just be terrible.” The priest clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“We could have moved.” Louis reasoned, having already gone over this conversation over restless nights. Louis quickly shook his head when he realized what he said. “No, I wouldn’t have asked you that. You wanted to complete your priesthood.”
“We could have moved?” Lestat breathed, his features softening with a wistful melancholy. “Cruel as ever, Louis.”
And all the negative feelings that were associated with Lestat came flooding back in. The fighting, the cheating, second chances, third chances. “Don’t you start lecturing me about cruelty! You made your choice, and I made mine. My daughter grew up in a loving household. You got to have a full house on Easter Sunday. There was no need to fuck up four people's lives.” Louis seethed, standing up. “I need to find Claudia.”
*** *** ***
And time froze. Like a photograph.
The bullet tore through Claudia. Lungs emptying of air and filled with blood. Pooling out of her mouth and nose. Pain instantaneous. The glow of her blood splattering behind her.
Louis shouted, his legs moving faster than ever, he caught her. She was tense and rugged in his arms. “一ad. Dad!”
“No, no, no, no. Don’t speak baby.” Louis couldn’t see her through his tears.
Lestat tore the rifle out of Tom’s hands. Yelling obscenities.
The blood still called to him. Overpoweringly so.
Louis could hear her heart slowing with each beat. Rocking his body, hands in her hair as he sobbed.
She fell still. The world crumbling beneath him.
Lestat gathered the girl in his arms, which Louis allowed. Following after the priest. “The lake,” Louis said, “me and ‘er use to go there when she was little. It was her favorite place to go.”
*** *** ***
Louis and Lestat sat down in the boat, Lestat rowing them out toward the center of the lake. Claudia’s head rested against Louis’ thigh, as he brushed his fingers gently through her hair.
Lestat hummed a hymn in time with the rows. Louis turned his head to the sunrise. Stikes of red and pink.
“Thank you, Louis.”
“What for?”
“Existing with me. Having the opportunity to know you and love you.”
Louis gave him a weak smile. Turning his head back to the sunset.
Awaiting the fiery dawn.