Work Text:
New Orleans, Summer 2025
Louis watched from the side of the stage as Satan’s Night Out performed one of its new songs for the first time. Synth, funky, and slinky. Alex on base, TC on drums, and Larry on guitar. The arrangement had had Lestat open on keyboard, but now he was moving across the stage, right on cue. The fans were eating it up, it was catchy and made you want to move. Although Lestat’s music didn't always resonate with his tastes, Louis really liked this one, and it really made you think of only one thing…Louis grinned…and then…
There he goes…
In the middle of Larry’s solo, Lestat dropped to his knees in front of him, and pretty much began simulating an act that would get them banned in certain countries.
Or does that happen not anymore?
Larry’s boyfriend, who standing next to Louis, burst out laughing. Louis looked over at the band’s manager/lawyer, Christine, who insisted on going to every show exactly for this reason. And she was definitely not amused.
Louis arched a brow as Larry pulled Lestat up into a kiss, before Lestat spun back toward the crowd without missing a beat.
Christine groaned.
Lestat was already a handful on his own, and it annoyed her to no end that Larry was always up for any pranks Lestat put him up to.
“This is a charity event, for chrissakes.” Then she paused, considered the moment, and sighed. “It’ll probably go viral, though,” she muttered, pulling out her phone and texting the PR team, because someone was bound to ask if a simulated blowjob at a charity event was part of the planned set.
The set rolled into the final encore of the night. Their new album, A Season in Hell, had been doing really well, but much to the disappointment of his fans, Lestat refused to consider another tour. He would only agree to local shows, and smaller venues at that, like tonight’s. He didn't want to leave New Orleans.
Daniel had laughed knowingly when Louis told him about it. “Obviously, Lestat’s pretty happy right now, and he is not going to want to spend a lot of time alone on the road when he has other priorities.”
There was no denying it, Lestat was completely enthralled at being Louis’ companion again. They had moved into a house that Louis had purchased only a few months ago, and Lestat loved telling everyone he was “a kept man”. He was ridiculous, and yet, Louis couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed about it. And now that they were together, Lestat no longer felt Louis was in any danger from vengeful vampires. He couldn’t be happier.
Lestat knew Louis didn’t like living on the road, that it was too chaotic and noisy for him. And even though Louis had encouraged him to go without him, Lestat had been adamant he was not interested. He was getting all the love and attention he needed, and he was perfectly content to just write and make music at home.
Of course, Louis knew that wouldn’t always be the case. Lestat loved being on stage, loved the way mortals worshipped him. He was certainly eating it up tonight. Louis watched as Lestat allowed a young fan that had jumped on stage to run her hands all over him before pulling him in for an enthusiastic kiss.
The crowd went crazy, of course.
Lestat looked over at Louis and smiled almost sheepishly, but not quite, as the fan was dragged off of him by security.
Brat.
Louis wondered how long Lestat would really be content staying so homebound, homebound for Lestat, anyway. He was, as always, captivating tonight, and Louis couldn’t help but be amused by the explicit fantasies about Lestat he was picking up from the crowd. Some of them were very creative.
When the encore was finished, Lestat, energized from the show, ran over to sweep Louis into his arms and dip him into a deep kiss. TC, Larry, and Alex shuffled past them, laughing at Lestat’s antics.
“Have fun at the after-party,” Lestat said with a wicked grin. “Louis and I are taking the real party home.”
Louis blushed, embarrassed. He’s so ridiculous.
Normally his bandmates might have complained, but given how chaotic he had been during the two years it had taken for Lestat and Louis to figure out their “situation”, they were just grateful for the peace, even if it meant Lestat wasn’t out with them as much as much he used to be.
Lestat hauled Louis to his feet and half-carried him into the green room, slamming the door shut and locking it before pinning him to the wall.
Louis laughed, trying to wiggle out of Lestat’s clutches, before any more glitter got on him.
“Hey! I thought we were goin’ home?!”
Lestat gave him a put-upon, long-suffering look.
“Yes, but I need some attention now.”
He pressed himself against Louis, shamelessly letting him feel just how much he needed him.
“Yeah? I don’t know, I think you got more than enough attention tonight-“
He kissed Louis then, losing himself in the softness of his plush, soft lips, the intoxicating taste of him. For a moment, everything else disappeared. When he finally pulled back, Louis looked deliciously dazed, color high in his cheeks, lips flushed and kiss-swollen.
If Lestat could crawl inside of him, he would.
“Did you enjoy the show, mon ange?” Lestat breathed huskily, his eyes hungrily raking over his body.
Louis’ fangs dropped as he grabbed Lestat by his skimpy mesh top and yanked him to him. Lestat laughed, surprised and thrilled as always at Louis’ aggressiveness.
“You’re incorrigible, cher, that shit with Larry-”
Unrepentant, blue eyes bright with faux innocence, Lestat chuckled, “Oh? Whatever are you referring to-?”
Louis flipped them around, pushing Lestat into the wall as he sank his teeth into Lestat’s neck. Lestat moaned as Louis took only the smallest sip, teasing him, before going in for more. Lestat’s body shook, knees buckling, pleasure pulsing through his body with each pull of blood, as he held on to Louis.
“Louis, Louis…”
Louis pulled back, green eyes almost black, as he slowly licked his lips clean of Lestat’s blood.
“Home, baby. Now.”
Lestat loved it when Louis got bossy.
⸻
Lestat was ravenous by the time they got back to the house.
“Off! Get off! Stop it!” Louis kept trying to shove Lestat away, but it was no use.
Lestat only doubled down, rubbing his glitter-covered face all over Louis’, smearing sparkles everywhere.
With a growl, Louis grabbed him by the hair and yanked his face to his.
They spun around each other, grappling, tugging at clothes, until, laughing and breathless, they tumbled to the living room floor.
Louis rolled on top of him.
“I am never going to get this glitter off me…you brat.”
“Oh?” Lestat cackled. “What are you going to do about it?”
In response, Louis flipped Lestat onto his stomach and yanked down his pants, satisfied, but not surprised, to find he wasn’t wearing underwear, as usual.
With a smirk, Louis gave one firm smack to Lestat’s ass.
“Aah!” Lestat yelped, then giggled. “You brute! How dare you-”
Grinning, Louis sank his teeth into Lestat’s left cheek.
Lestat let out a startled laugh, then arched his back, wiggling his hips enticingly.
“Please, Louis,” he gasped. “Don’t tease me.”
Louis pulled off Lestat’s shoes, then finished stripping off his pants and flipped him onto his back again.
Louis shimmied up to nuzzle Lestat where he was obviously most needed.
Lestat’s hands tightened on Louis’s shoulders, and he shamelessly pushed his hips toward Louis’s face, needy and impatient.
“Please…”
Lestat’s body jerked as Louis bit into his upper thigh.
“What do you want, love? Tell me.”
He began leaving little love bites, sucking and tasting Lestat, teasing everywhere but where Lestat needed him.
“I want you… inside me,” Lestat moaned as Louis began stroking his cock, playfully teasing the underside of the head with his tongue.
“You sure?” Louis panted. He was surprised, but they did switch it up every once in a while.
”Je t’en supplie… prends-moi,” begging now.
Louis leaned over and grabbed the small vial of lube they kept in the side table drawer.
He slicked up his fingers and began working Lestat open as his mouth moved slowly down the head of Lestat’s cock, stopping to swallow a bit. Then he moved down further, stopping and swallowing again, his mouth, hot and wet, tightening around Lestat.
Lestat moaned.
“Putain… c’est bon…”
Lestat’s legs shook as Louis started bobbing his head on his cock now, faster, deeper, taking as much as he could.
Desperate for more, Lestat began thrusting his hips, pushing Louis’ fingers deeper into him, pushing his cock deeper into Louis’ mouth. Louis pressed into him, hitting that spot that made Lestat arch off the floor.
By then, Lestat was no longer coherent.
Still working to get Lestat ready, Louis moved up and kissed him, hot and unrestrained, with a desperation that had been building for hours. Lestat moaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into Louis’ back. Then he pulled back and shifted to flip Lestat over. Spreading Lestat’s thighs apart, Louis slid his fingers back into him while smearing lube over his own cock.
He lined the head up to Lestat’s entrance and began to slowly slide into his tight heat. It was sublime. Lestat felt like silk.
They both moaned as Louis sank fully into him. He held there for a moment, struggling for control.
Then Louis began to move inside him with a slow, steady rhythm, grunting with each deep thrust.
With one hand, he stroked Lestat’s cock, the other pulling Lestat back tightly against him. Their rhythm quickened, power building as they drove each other toward climax.
Lestat cried out, shuddering as he came, his body tightening around Louis. Louis groaned, driving into him with a few more desperate thrusts as Lestat’s body twitched beneath him, until his own release overtook him. He pushed in deep, spilling into Lestat with a gasp.
They collapsed, exhausted, spent, and tangled in each other.
⸻
Later that night, Louis and Lestat lay in bed, sharing their last cigarette.
Somehow, they’d eventually made it upstairs and showered in an attempt to get rid of all the glitter. That shower had, predictably, led to other things, and as a result there was still plenty of glitter on both of them.
Now, in the quiet of the room, Louis glanced over at Lestat, thoughtful.
Lestat looked completely at ease, a faint, satisfied smile still playing on his lips. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, and there was a glow about him that Louis loved to see, pure, unguarded happiness.
Looking at him now, it was hard to believe how much Lestat had endured in the last year.
He’d essentially had a breakdown, triggered by the pressure of touring and the death threats Louis had been receiving. Those threats had reopened Lestat’s deep-rooted trauma from the years he’d believed Louis was dead.
And digging into his past for the documentary with Daniel hadn’t helped.
Unbeknownst to Louis, Lestat had stopped feeding and resting regularly. And when he did feed, it was often on heavily intoxicated mortals, trying to dull his fear and anxiety.
Eventually, he began having panic attacks, hallucinating, acting out. It had taken Christine, Daniel, and, of all people, Armand to get him the help he needed. Not wanting Louis to think he was broken, or unworthy of being his companion, Lestat had only come clean once he’d started therapy and made some progress.
Louis had made it clear that moving forward, there could be no more secrets between them. And for the most part, they were getting better at talking, which was good, because they both still had a lot of baggage to work through.
Even now, in the midst of their happiness, there were still times when Louis could see just how deeply Lestat had been scarred by the years he believed Louis was dead.
Back when they were still circling each other, tentatively rebuilding their relationship, Lestat had hidden it well. But now that they were living together, he was there the evenings Lestat woke up crying, shaken, having forgotten Louis was alive and lying beside him.
Disoriented, Lestat would speak to him as if Louis were still the phantom he’d loved and mourned for so long.
And sometimes, when things got physical between them, Louis could feel the desperation in him. It was in the way Lestat clung to him, the way he sometimes wept, as if he thought Louis might disappear at any moment.
It was part of why Louis kept urging him to talk about the years they were apart. Louis hoped that maybe, if Lestat could talk about it, he might be able to let go of some of his grief.
But true to fashion, Lestat insisted everything was fine, and maybe he even believed it, which only made it harder to get him to open up.
Louis didn’t want to ruin the mood. It was so easy, to live in the moment, avoiding the painful past. But talking through difficult topics had helped Louis immensely, and he wanted to help Lestat in the same way. He knew Lestat would probably resist, he always did when Louis brought up something potentially painful, but he had to try.
“The kids were pretty understandin’ about not going to the after party tonight.”
Louis referred the Lestat’s band mates as kids, because he really couldn’t see them as anything else.
“They are just happy that I am happy. I wasn’t exactly the best band mate for a while there,” Lestat said, grinning.
“I can only imagine. I have no idea how they put up with you all these years.”
“They love me…and hopefully funding their solo projects will go a long way towards rewarding them for their patience!”
“Really? Solo projects? Are you guys breakin’ up or somethin’?”
“To be honest cheri, I don’t know how much longer I want to remain in the band. I …am beginning to find rockstar life a bit…repetitive. And I always felt like it was their band, that I was just there on their good will. They’d been a band for quite a while before I joined them.”
“If you aren’t makin’ music, what will you do?”
Lestat smiled, “I will always make music. And from time to time, I perhaps still do a few shows with them, perhaps a reunion tour or two… but there are other things I’d like to do right now.”
“Such as?”
Lestat looked at him, suddenly very somber, his eyes softened with sadness as he reached up to caress the side of Louis’ face, tenderly brushing his thumb over the center of his plush lower lip and the dip just beneath it.
“Make up for lost time, Louis. So much lost time…” he said softly.
Louis was surprised by how easily he could sometimes be caught up in Lestat’s mercurial emotions, and felt a pang at the mention of the years they’d spent apart.
Louis hesitated for just a moment, then went for it.
“Lestat, can you tell me more about what happened when you woke up, in the 90’s? After you went to ground in 1973.”
Louis spoke softly, but didn’t look away. “In the documentary, you glossed over it. You made it sound like not much happened, that you were grieving, and then somehow we found each other again. But… it seems like a lot actually happened. You took in a fledgling. You joined a band. That’s not nothing.”
Since their reunion, Louis and Lestat had spent much of their time relearning each other and talking through their shared past, conversations that helped Louis recover his lost memories. As for the years after Paris that Lestat wasn’t present for, it had often been both Daniel and Lestat who asked questions in an effort to guide him.
It was slow going, and process might have gone faster if they’d been able to trust Armand to help, but for Louis, that was out of the question. They were barely speaking now, and Louis would never willingly let Armand back into his mind again.
Louis suspected that the reason they spent so much talking about his past was because Lestat was avoiding talking about his. As a result, there were still significant parts of Lestat’s life that Louis didn’t know much about yet. And of course, Lestat could be cagey when it came to subjects he didn’t want to discuss. He wouldn’t lie, but he wouldn’t exactly volunteer the information either.
Lestat took one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette.
He sighed. It was a bleak chapter of his life, but if Louis wanted to know, and he would tell him.
“Very well Louis.…”
“As you know, in 1973, I sought oblivion, a release from my grief and pain. I walked into the sun, and it didn’t take. After I’d recovered from my injuries, I put my affairs in order, so I would be undisturbed for as long as I needed to… or forever. I didn't care how long, although in the end, I only lay in the dirt for twenty years.”
Lestat paused to look at Louis, unsure of how much to share.
“But I never told you what it felt like.”
Lestat’s memories of that time were hazy at best, but he would try to explain as best he could.
“I thought it would be like before, after Nicki died. Time would pass while I lay in repose, and the grief would slowly soften, dulled, by the time I arose. But this time…”
He shook his head.
“There was no peace to be found. It was if a blade had pierced my soul and I couldn’t pull it out.”
Frowning, he ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. Louis reached out to him, trying to reassure him.
“I know this is hard.”
Lestat nodded and continued.
“When I slept, I didn’t dream. At least, I don’t think I did. There were no memories, no faces. The world faded and my mind let go of everything. I forgot names, events, it all fell away. Years went by. But this time, the pain…the pain remained.”
He struggled to find the right words to describe what he could remember.
“It was as if my being was suffused with it, even as I couldn't remember why, and had no true sense of myself.”
“And then I heard music.”
“At first, it was faint, and it slowly grew louder, or I became more aware of it. Not all at once. Not clearly. But something inside me recognized it. The anguish in it matched my own. And just like that, I couldn’t stay buried anymore. I let it pull me back.”
“It was not the kind of music I’d loved before. It was melody distortion. Disillusioned. Screaming through resigned despair. But it was beautiful. It was the perfect reflection of the agony from which I had no escape from.
As the music called to me, I began to remember who I was again, and as I did, the grief and guilt came back to me.”
“That was the beginning of the end of my oblivion. And perhaps…the beginning of wanting to live again. I had no choice really. I hadn’t been able to destroy myself, and going to ground had failed too, I had found no peace as I lay in my dream state.”
Lestat faltered for just a moment, surprised at how painful it was to talk about those years.
“In the decades before I went to ground in 1973, music had become my lifeline, my way to connect to the times. As for the new music that had awoken me from my slumber, I knew it, of course, the principles and the properties of it. I’d seen it rise from rhythm and blues, gospel, jazz, bluegrass.”
“I’d watched Chuck Berry and Fats bring down the house. I saw Little Richard tear through a set like a lightning strike in sequins and laughed myself sick at the audacity of it all.”
“And the women, oh, the women. Aretha sang of joy and pain to protest and pride. Nina Simone was raw truth and power. Tina Turner could shake the soul out of a room. Janis bled onstage. And I watched as it evolved and spilled into artistic decadence, The Doors, Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Bowie, Queen. It was all wonderful chaos.”
“It moved me, and I admired it. But I never took it seriously. Not like I did Bach or Chopin, not like opera. To me, it was indulgent, pure, powerful pleasure without discipline. I was a snob, I admit it.”
He gave Louis a very self-aware smile.
“By 1973, I had been chasing different music, jazz, funk, salsa, Afrobeat, Tropicália. Art Tatum. Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, James Brown, Eddie Palmieri, Fela Kuti, Gilberto Gil.”
“I’d been devastated by Bill Evans. Fascinated by Herbie Hancock with his synthesizers and electric piano. Enthralled with Earth, Wind, and Fire.
“I understood the instruments, even if the structure was new. Piano, strings, brass, percussion. It was all so unruly, but elegant, and I felt more at home with it.”
“And so I had spent decades following the music from the Quarter, through New York, to Havana, then deep into South America, searching for rhythms that made me feel alive again, connected to the world, if only for a moment.”
Louis smiled encouragingly and watched Lestat as he animatedly spoke about the music. He could go on for hours when it came to music, so much so that Louis would often have to remind him to stay on topic, but tonight Louis was content to listen. He knew music was an essential part of his maker, and he wasn’t surprised Lestat had found solace in it during their separation.
“But when I rose in 1993, the world had changed. The music had, too. What I heard now was something angst-filled. Broken. Disillusioned. All the polish, the elegance gone, but still… beautiful. It sounded like how I felt. Like ruin. It was th kind of music that screamed into the void and uncaring of what echoed back. It was the perfect reflection of my grief, pain, and guilt. It was a wound that had finally stopped pretending to be a scar.”
Lestat looked off, eyes unfocused, deep in the memory.
“The first few nights, I was still barely coherent. But I somehow managed to get out and feed.”
“My previous injuries from being out in the sun were gone, even the faint scar where I'd had my throat slit was gone. And within a few nights, I was myself again. However, it was a while before I went out for more than feeding. For a few weeks, I stayed in the old dilapidated house I had buried myself under.”
“It was on the third night that I saw you again, Louis, your shade... “
He paused, remembering how overwhelmed with shock and grief he was when Louis had appeared, terribly burnt, eyes flashing with rage.
“Lestat, please. Tell me.”
Lestat sighed and begrudgingly continued.
Close your eyes and bow your head
I need a little sympathy
'Cause fear is strong and love's for everyone
Who isn't me
“Burden in My Hand” Soundgarden
⸻
New Orleans Spring 1993
Lestat sat in what had once been a luxurious, beautifully furnished parlor. Now, moonlight managed to creep in through the cracks of the boarded up windows. The house was mostly empty now, all that was left was some rubbish, and a few pieces of furniture. Miraculously, his old coffin was still there, tucked beneath the house in the raised cellar where he’d left it, undisturbed after all this time.
He supposed he could see about staying at another one of his properties. He had a few scattered throughout the city, ones he’d paid to keep maintained, and would likely be more comfortable, but somehow he could not really be bothered.
He’d already fed earlier in the night, and from reading his victim’s thoughts, he’d confirmed he'd been underground for about twenty years.
Not very long then, he thought discouraged. And peace still eludes me.
“Why so down, love?”
At the sound of his voice, Lestat felt anguish overwhelm him.
Louis stood across the room from him, illuminated in the faint moonlight, beaten and horribly burned. But his voice, even dripping with sarcasm, was still soft and honeyed, just as it had always been.
“What is this place?” Louis’ phantom asked, as he looked around.
Tears threatening, Lestat painfully cleared his throat before he could answer.
“This was going to be our home, Louis,” Lestat said softly.
That seemed to greatly amuse the shade.
“Oh? And why would I want to be here?”
“It was beautiful once… and I hoped…” Lestat faltered.
“You hoped what?” Louis sneered. “That I would want to come back to you? What’s wrong with your head? Look what you did to us!”
As he spoke, Claudia appeared next to him, horrible burned as well, eyes filled with hatred.
Lestat could not bear the sight of them, burned as they were. But Louis’ beautiful voice was the same.
“Why the fuck would I ever come back to you? I made my choice, and made it clear.”
Louis’ green eyes blazed with a cold rage as he continued.
“I wanted Armand, yeah, but more than that, I wanted anyone else but you.”
Louis’ voice rose, as raw and bitter, as he unleashed years of grief and rage.
“You promised me a life with you that never came to be, and when I couldn’t be the kind of vampire you wanted me to be, you brutalized me, kept me, kept both of us, chained to you. You doomed our daughter.”
“And now you would have me here, still chained to you, for what, love? Would you like me to lie to you, tell you I loved you, that I love you still, talk some bullshit about a thin veil that separates us? Or do you want me to punish you, so you can feel like you can atone for your sins. After all, it’s always all about you isn't it, cher?” Louis’ shade hissed bitterly.
Lestat would not argue with him.
“You are right, of course. Do what you will, Louis.”
“How about you just go fuck yourself.”
And with that, Louis and Claudia disappeared.
⸻
The next few weeks stretched into months as Lestat mostly remained ensconced in the house. Every night Lestat would awakened and be confronted with Louis’ shade. Claudia’s rarely made an appearance, and when she did, she never spoke, as usual. Lestat knew he deserved less than nothing from her. Still, Lestat did not want to leave them, and except for the occasional mortal that came too close to the house, he would make do with eating the rats.
Conversations with Louis did not bring him comfort, and yet he found himself looking forward to them all the same. As with Claudia before, the burns gradually faded, and Louis began to appear as he had in the early days of their companionship, unscarred, dressed in the elegant style Lestat had loved best.
Louis’ tongue remained as vicious as ever. But Lestat took it in stride. He had no interest in avoiding Louis, in whatever form he took, or arguing with him.
One night, eyes flashing with vindictive delight as he leaned casually against a doorway smoking a cigarette, Louis surprised him.
“If you think staying in here all the time makes any difference to me, as if this is some sort of penance, you’re wrong. We both know you’re just being melodramatic. You just love feeling your feelings, don’t you, love.”
Lestat sighed dejectedly.
“It’s not that Louis, I just don’t have any interest in going out. Nothing interests me.”
Louis was not convinced.
“Not even music? Isn’t that what woke you in the first place? The music of this time? And what about mortals? I thought you loved them.”
“Yes, but…”
“You don’t have the energy to go out, because you are only eating rats.”
Lestat shrugged.
“You could use your Mind Gift and have an evildoer come to you.”
Lestat was puzzled.
“Why are you helping me, Louis?
“Oh, I’m not helping you, I just wanna get the fuck outta here. I'm bored, and I know you are too. So eat a human and lets go.”
Louis flicked the cigarette to the floor, stubbing it out impatiently with his foot.
He crossed the room to stand in front of Lestat where he sat, looking down at him with contempt.
“Look, staying in here, feeling your fucking feelings is all about you. Nobody cares, especially not me, so stop being a little bitch and lets go.”
Lestat wearily got up, shaking his head. He was going crazy, he knew it. But maybe it wasn't so bad. Louis was with him, in a way. At least there was that.
Lestat reached out with his mind, found an evildoer, and ate him.
Luckily his victim also had clothes that fit him pretty well: black boots, black jeans, and dark T-shirt. Louis’ shade had disappeared by then, but Lestat went to a local bar anyway, using his Mind Gift on the bouncer, who let him in without an ID.
It was a little jarring to be surrounded by so many humans again. Their thoughts were so loud that it took a great effort to shut them out. He made his way to a corner where he could watch the band playing.
Warmed by human blood, he was feeling stronger, more alert, but he couldn’t really get comfortable…he just felt off. It didn't help that the band wasn’t that great, and with all the shouting he couldn’t really make out much of the music anyway. A handsome young man made eye contact with him and smiled. Faintly repulsed, Lestat ignored him.
Mentally exhausted and bored, he left less than twenty minutes later.
After Lestat had walked about two blocks, Louis’ shade reappeared and fell into step next to him.
“You know, random, one night stands with mortals is actually a good choice for you, cher.” Louis said mockingly.
“Oh?“
“You aren’t fit to be anyone’s companion. I mean, you’ve got a horrible fuckin’ track record, if you think about it.
Lestat had no response to that, obviously. Louis continued,
“‘Course, you could keep destroyin’ lives just so you won’t be lonely, I mean, you are good at makin’ promises, not hard on the eyes, and you’re a good fuck, so it’ll be fine at first, until they find out who you really are. Then it’ll all go to shit. Rinse and repeat. You really wanna do all that?”
Lestat had no response to that either, so they continued the walk home in silence.
New Orleans, Summer 2025
Louis frowned as he listened. He had, of course, had struggled with his own hallucinations of Lestat. At first, in the early years of traveling Europe with Claudia, Lestat’s phantom was there to remind him of his betrayal, of his part in his death, even as Louis secretly hoped Lestat had survived. In Paris, initially ill at ease with the coven, and wary of Armand even as he was attracted to him, Lestat’s phantom became something of a source of comfort, a confidante.
And of course….
When Louis decided to have Daniel conduct his second interview, he knew it would likely get him killed. But from his perspective, that was preferable to continuing the muted haze his life had become. It was only after Louis accepted that his search for truth would almost certainly end in his demise that Lestat’s phantom appeared to him again, as an old friend. His heart and mind had reached for comfort, conjuring the only one that had ever truly understood him, even if the real Lestat was far away, out of reach… or so he had believed at the time.
Lestat had once mentioned, almost in passing, that he too had seen Louis’ phantom, after believing Louis had perished when he walked into the sun. But it had never occurred to Louis just how much Lestat had tortured himself with it.
Early in their relationship, there had been times when he’d struck out at Lestat to hurt him, but as Lestat continued with his story, Louis realized the phantom had said things he himself never would have. It dredged up memories, referenced past sins Louis hadn’t even known about, striking with a precision and cruelty that went beyond anything he had ever intended. The phantom wasn’t Louis, it was his guilt personified, and it had been merciless.
Louis knew from personal experience, when you punish yourself like that, everywhere becomes hell.
Lestat stopped when he saw the look on Louis’ face.
“Louis, please don’t look at me that way. The phantom was just the unresolved guilt and grief I had going on in my head. It wasn't you. And in a way, it helped me, just like you did all those years ago when I first arrived to New Orleans. Don’t you recall? You helped me dress properly, helped me fill what would be our home with beautiful things, you recommended business investments, introduced me about town. This was no different. Even as your shade held me accountable for all I’d done to you, how I’d failed so many, it got me out of that house. In a way, you got me going back into the world. You were partly the reason I joined the band, and before that, why I took in Felix.”
Louis laughed, “What, Felix? You’re gonna lay that on me?”
Louis didn't really feel one way or the other about Felix. He hadn't spent a lot of time in his company. From what he could tell Lestat had taken him in sometime around the mid-2000s and had helped him learn the basics of vampire survival. Felix, in turn, was able to make sure that Lestat had access to technology that would be helpful, like cell phones, eventually iPad. And during the times Lestat would regress into his grief, ensconced in the shack, Felix would bring him for rats to feed on. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was glad Felix had kept Lestat company.
Lestat grinned as he thought of the impudent fledgling.
“Upon awakening, I found the world had changed. Where once I could go decades without sensing another vampire, I now felt them everywhere. They were many, and they were young, abandoned fledglings with no maker to guide them. Most kept their distance, steering clear of New Orleans. I left them alone in turn, until the night Felix found me.”
New Orleans, Fall 2009
Felix awoke with a start.
Even after a year, it still took him a minute to get his bearings each night. It was disgusting, but he’d managed to find refuge in an older crypt in Lafayette Cemetery.
He shoved aside the skeletal remains he’d shared the coffin with as he climbed out of.
He was hungry, so hungry. And miserable.
This was not at all what he thought it was going to be when he agreed to be turned.
This is some bullshit.
He left the cemetery and eventually found an unsuspecting human, stumbling down an alley, alone.
Overcome with hunger, Felix didn't take the time to consider if he should look for another victim. He lunged at the man, sinking his fangs into him and drinking in great drafts of his blood, just barely remembering to stop beforehand was dead.
Unfortunately, he was now completely drunk.
Being drunk will lead to making mistakes, and making mistakes will get you killed, his maker used to say, before he fucked off and disappeared.
Fuck!
He swayed on his feet, laughing as he recalled yet another one of his maker’s so-called “helpful” tips.
Get rid of the bodies, because bodies attract attention, and attracting attention will get you killed.
Felix looked at the body and tried to focus.
Ok….so…I need to do something about the body, but what? Ugh, ok, I’ll just have to take it back and hide it in the cemetery.
It was kind of far. To go that far, carrying a body without being seen, it was very unlikely.
Then he had a brilliant idea.
Felix hoisted the body up to its feet then draped the dead man’s arm over his neck as he held the body up by its waist.
Chuckling to himself, he began to walk unsteadily back to the cemetery.
The few people he walked past either ignored them or grinned at them, assuming Felix’s victim was just his passed out drunk friend.
I’m a goddam genius.
Once the they got back to the cemetery, he threw the body into a crypt, along with the others he’d brought there. He wrinkled his nose. The smell was unbearable.
Not much more space, I’m gonna have to figure something else out, but for now, problem solved.
He sighed, his buzz beginning to wear off.
This just sucks.
He was lonely. He hated living in a graveyard. He hated being surrounded by death. He had to figure out something more permanent, because living like this was bullshit.
He left the graveyard again, wandering the streets without purpose, trying to think of where he might find a more permanent resting place. He had no idea how far he’d gone when he suddenly froze.
He heard a heart beat, another vampire. Adrenaline ran through him.
His first nights were consumed by hunting, disposing of bodies, and finding safe places to spend the day as he traveled, drifting from town to town, searching for a more permanent place to settle. He quickly realized it would be easier in a large city, where victims were plentiful and less likely to be missed, and where he might have time to get his bearings. He chose New Orleans simply because it was the nearest major city with lots of tourists, and, well, he’d always wanted to see the French Quarter.
Another warning from his maker came to mind: older ones often destroyed fledglings. There were stories of an ancient, powerful vampire in New Orleans who had, some years back, killed any vampire who came too close to the city.
But from what Felix could tell, that had been decades ago. He took his chances and arrived in New Orleans a couple of weeks ago.
If that older vampire had wanted him dead, he figured, he’d already be ashes.
So, curiosity winning over his better judgement, he headed in the direction of the slow, sluggish, heartbeat.
He arrived at a dilapidated house.
Great. This looks promising.
Grimacing, he slowly walked towards the door, letting he vampire within react one way or another to him.
Nothing happened.
Felix entered and made his way through the house, which was little more than a crumbling hovel. There was no electricity, only a few half-burned candles scattered across broken tables and shelves. The air was thick with the smell of dust and rot. Cracks split the walls, and the windows were either shattered or boarded up with warped, uneven planks. What little furniture remained was barely intact: what had once been a beautiful chair now spilled its stuffing; a grand piano sat smashed in the corner of one room; and a warped cabinet leaned crookedly against a wall. It felt as if no one had lived there in decades.
In what looked like a parlor, Felix found the vampire.
He was tall, about six feet tall, with blonde hair that almost reached his shoulders, and mostly dressed in black leather. He was obviously older and powerful, but looked slightly haggard, as if he wasn’t feeding properly. Upon closer inspection, the stranger had a face that would make it easy to get close to victims. He ignored Felix and was shuffling through an old desk, and seemed to be talking to himself.
Great. He’s crazy, Felix thought.
As if he’d spoken aloud, the vampire moved, too fast for Felix’s eyes to follow, and in the next instant, he was pinned against the wall by his throat.
Piercing eyes, grey, or maybe blue, stared up at him.
“What the fuck do you want?” the vampire asked, his voice low and rough, tinged with a French accent. He didn’t sound angry exactly… just annoyed. In his free hand, he held a small lockbox.
Ok, so maybe not entirely crazy.
At that, the vampire’s lips twitched, as if amused.
He dropped Felix so abruptly that he stumbled and hit the floor.
Felix looked up at him, rubbing his neck with a resentful glare.
The vampire frowned. “You’re the young one that’s been camped out in the cemetery, no?”
Felix nodded as he pushed himself up, facing him.
“I’ve only been here about a month. My name is Felix, I’m tryin’ to-”
The blonde vampire’s expression darkened, his irritation deepening.
“Shut up,” he interrupted. “I don’t care. Don’t come back here and I won’t kill you, tu comprends?”
Without waiting for a response, and once again, faster than Felix’s eyes could follow, the older vampire left.
Well, that went really well. What an asshole.
Felix dusted himself off and considered what he would do next as found his way back to the cemetery.
The older vampire clearly wanted nothing to do with him, but at least he hadn’t killed him.
He wants me to stay away from that shithole I found him in, but he didn’t tell me to leave the city. So…
Maybe he’d just keep watching the vampire at a distance. He might learn something useful without ever having to talk to him.
⸻
Sure enough, after following the strange vampire for only a few weeks, Felix had learned a few things. He could use his own blood to hide puncture wounds. Somehow, the older vampire could lure victims to leave their friends or homes to come to him, but Felix had no idea how he did it. The vampire seemed to live between different properties, none of them as dilapidated as the one he’d found him in.
He knew the vampire was aware that he was being followed, but apparently did not mind as long as Felix kept his distance. Once in a while, Felix noticed that the vampire occasionally appeared to be talking to himself, but he couldn’t be sure.
⸻
One night, a couple months later, Felix was on his way back to his crypt when he was met with three young vampires who suddenly appeared in front of him.
Two guys and a girl decked out like Eurotrash club kids. They didn’t seem much older than him, but he couldn’t be sure. As they encircled him, the look in their eyes definitely wasn’t friendly.
Fuck
He crouched defensively, his fangs dropping.
Snarling, one of them leapt at him from his side. Felix managed to shove off her but not before she managed to tear into his chest. Bleeding heavily, he turned to run. As they gave chase, Felix realized they would have been able to catch him easily if they were older, but three against one, he still stood no chance.
He had run into vampires like this before, roaming in small groups, looking for territory, killing any weaker vampires to get it. Part of the reason he’d come to New Orleans was that vicious vampire bands seemed to avoid the city, believing in the murderous ancient vampire story. But apparently these vampires either hadn’t heard the stories or didn’t believe them.
Losing so much blood, he began to lose consciousness. And of course, he’d run into a blind alley. He looked up. He didn’t have the energy to leap to a roof, and they’d catch him anyway.
Exhausted, Felix stopped running and turned to face them. He would have fought back, but he couldn't lift his arms anymore.
So much for living forever. Why are all vampires such assholes?
The vampires slowed to a walk and encircled him, grinning ferally. They knew they had him.
“Go ahead, get it over with, fuckers!” he spat out, even as the edges of his vision began to fade to black.
As they came closer, he sank to his knees, no longer able to stand. He stopped seeing the vampires in front of him, and instead the face of his mother, six years gone now, lost to cancer after a life long smoking habit.
She’d been a tough woman, a single mother who’d taken the job of raising her only son very seriously. He had loved her more than anyone else in the world. At least he’d be seeing her again soon.
Mama, I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted me to.
And with that last thought, he fell over, and closed his eyes as he slipped into unconsciousness.
⸻
Lestat had been aware of the young vampire following him around for the last few weeks. It was somewhat annoying, but he didn’t chase him off or threaten him again, as he seemed harmless enough.
“He’s not gonna survive the night.” Louis’ shade said. “Those new ones will kill him.”
Lestat had felt the presence of the new ones earlier. He knew they were waiting close to the cemetery, and yes, they were likely going to kill the fledgling…what was his name…Felix?
Still Lestat shrugged.
“He is nothing to me. I didn’t have anyone to help me as I found my way, he has to learn to survive on his own. Why-”
Louis rolled his eyes, exasperated.
“Yeah, it’s true Magnus abandoned you, but then you had Gabrielle, and even Nicky. You weren’t alone.”
“Very well, but why should I care about this particular vampire?”
“You don’t want a gang of ‘em here, so you should get rid of the new ones anyway, at least scare them off. As for the fledgling, he might be able to help you catch up with modern times. I mean, he can’t be completely useless, survivin’ alone as long as he as.”
Lestat looked at Louis’ shade considering. While he wasn’t entirely sure that wanted to get a “cell phone”, he knew he wanted a “laptop” so he could be “online”. He’d learned of them, had an idea that having one would be useful, but he’d never had the time or access to figure out how to actually use one.
He still hadn’t decided on a course of action as he stepped out of the house and made his way toward the cemetery. From the rooftops above, he watched as the three younger vampires chased Felix down a narrow street and into a blind alley.
Lestat was mildly impressed, the fledgling didn’t dissolve into begging for his life. He had some spirit in him, even in the face of certain death. Lestat caught the fledgling’s last thoughts of his mother before he slipped into unconsciousness.
Fine
Lestat jumped down to stand between Felix and his attackers.
“Leave now and I will not destroy you.”
Two of the vampires froze, as if they could sense Lestat’s power. But the third, a young male, lunged at him.
Lestat moved so quickly the younger one stood stupefied, as Lestat was now several feet away, holding the arm he had just ripped clean off his body.
The fledgling screamed and tried to charge him again. This time, Lestat caught him mid-motion, twirled effortlessly, and hurled him into his companions.
The young vampire scrambled to his feet, ready to strike again, but his friends held him back.
Lestat nodded once.
“Wise. Now don’t make me repeat myself, children.”
Lestat looked at the still twitching arm he held and dropped it.
The three watched in horror as Lestat reduced it to ash with nothing more than a thought.
The young ones are always so frightened by the Fire Gift, Lestat mused.
He ignored them as they fled.
He turned his attention to Felix. The fledgling had lost a lot of blood, but he would live. Lestat knelt beside him, bit his own wrist, and pressed it to the gashes in Felix’s chest. His blood quickly closed the wounds.
Once the bleeding had stopped, Lestat used the Mind Gift to summon a nearby human into the alley.
He punctured the mortal’s wrist and pressed it to Felix’s mouth. Though unconscious, Felix’s instincts took over, he began to feed. Lestat pulled him away before he could drain the man completely. The victim wasn’t an evildoer, and Lestat had no desire to give Louis another reason to be angry with him.
After sealing the human’s wounds and laying him gently against the wall, Lestat lifted Felix into his arms and carried him back to the abandoned house where he’d been staying the last few nights.
⸻
Later that night, Louis stood over Lestat as he closed the lid of coffin he’d placed Felix in.
“You know, if he turns out to be a pain in the ass, you could always just run him out of town, or eat him.”
Lestat gave Louis’ phantom a withering look.
“I am not that fucked in the head.”
Louis shrugged.
But perhaps he was right.
Perhaps it would be nice to have someone to talk to for a while. Lestat thought. Though I don’t see keeping him around for longer than a few months or so.
New Orleans, Summer 2025
“And that is how I came to have Felix as a fledgling.”
“A few months?” Louis laughed. “It’s gonna be comin’ close to twenty years now, and he’s still around.”
Lestat grinned, “A blip in a vampiric life.”
Louis nodded, still thinking, piecing together the new information with what he already knew.
Lestat would never admit it aloud, but Louis knew he’d slowly came to enjoy Felix’s company, despite the fact that the boy never stopped talking, lacked imagination, and seemed to have no real ambition beyond reveling in nightlife and being a vampire.
There was something refreshing about Felix’s complete lack of existential burden. No tortured morality, no endless search for meaning. Although he had a very short attention span, he listened to Lestat with genuine interest and felt no guilt over feeding on mortals, though, notably, he didn’t take pleasure in cruelty either.
Even Louis found Felix’s uncomplicated, care-free company…oddly appealing.
Regardless, Lestat still enjoyed giving him hard time, openly letting Felix know how irritating he was, while secretly enjoying that Felix gave back as good as he got. Felix had no respect for his elders, that was for sure.
And though taking a fledgling like Felix under his wing was never part of Lestat’s plan, in the end it proved oddly beneficial.
Felix reintroduced him to the modern world with the enthusiasm of someone born into it: teaching him how to use a cell phone, set up a laptop, navigate the internet, and, most crucially, how to stream music.
Though Lestat still preferred to order vinyl records online, the access to decades of missed music began to stir something in him, made the endless nights feel interesting again.
Felix also filled in the cultural blanks from the twenty years Lestat had spent buried in the ground. Thanks to Felix, Lestat began to have a sense of the time he’d missed, while slowly reconnecting to the present.
For the next few years, they lived together in one of Lestat’s larger, fully furnished New Orleans properties, though Lestat sometimes returned to the decrepit shack where Felix had first found him.
Hoping Louis was satisfied, Lestat pulled him closer, nuzzling his neck.
But Louis was not satisfied.
“The only thing I don’t understand is, if you weren’t the one killing fledglings, keeping them out of the city…who was?”
Lestat shook his head.
“From what Felix told me, it was an ancient, and it was shortly after I went to ground...and…”
He hesitated.
“From the descriptions of the few survivors, it might have been Armand.”
“What?!”
Lestat shrugged.
“Armand always knew where I was. I suppose he came to check up on me…perhaps he was looking out for me, ensuring I was left alone.”
Louis was shocked.
It was possible. In the late seventies and eighties, before everything was online, Armand often would leave for weeks at a time for business. Had he been going to New Orleans on some of those trips?
As always, Louis felt a rush of emotions whenever he thought of Armand. He mostly felt anger now, it was yet another secret in their companionship. But he was also confused, why would Armand want to…protect Lestat?
For his part, Lestat was almost sorry it had come up. He could tell Louis was upset.
But Louis was determined to go on. He filed away the information for later. He wanted Lestat to continue.
“What happened next?”
Lestat sighed.
“Mon cher, have you not heard enough for tonight?”
“I want to know more. Lestat, we spent decades apart, living our own lives, and there is so much I still don’t know. I know you are all about living in the now, but this is important to me.”
Lestat pulled back to look at him. Louis was serious.
He closed his eyes as he rubbed bridge of his nose.
“All right.”
“So how exactly did you join Satan’s Night Out?”
Lestat flushed and looked away.
“It wasn't something I planned but… I had, in a way, started playing music, the piano, again.”
Louis couldn't understand why Lestat suddenly seemed embarrassed. Then it dawned on him.
“Playing the piano…do you mean… the keyboard… that you made?” Louis asked as delicately as he could.
Lestat looked back at him, eyes wary.
It was something they’d never really talked about. When Louis found him in the shack two years ago, he’d been stunned by Lestat’s condition, gaunt, dressed in a ragged robe, feeding on rats, and playing a makeshift piano fashioned from a plank of wood, its keys drawn in with his own blood.
Later, Lestat explained that he hadn’t always lived that way. He only retreated to the shack, once meant to be their home, during periods when his grief overwhelmed him. But they had never talked about the plank of wood. Even now, Lestat seemed ashamed.
“For the most part, I was fine, Louis. I’d made a sort of peace with your phantom. Felix was… an unexpected, pleasant diversion. And I had begun to reconnect with the world.”
Louis frowned, remembering how Lestat was when he found him, and he had definitely not been “fine”. But he chose not to interrupt and waited for him to continue.
New Orleans, Fall 2015
Felix stood outside the shack uncertainly. As usual, Lestat had told him to stay away, that he would be fine.
Well, Lestat was not fine. He'd been holed up for almost two months in the shack and from what Felix could tell, he hadn't gone out to feed once. He could hear Lestat’s heart growing weaker, more sluggish, each night.
Even though they’d been together for a few years now, Felix didn’t always understand Lestat. He could be a lot of fun, especially when they went hunting together, or when they went out and mortals would flock to them… well, mostly to Lestat.
He could also be an irritable asshole, and more than once Felix had wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and leave. He hadn’t, partly because he knew it was smart to have the protection of a powerful vampire, at least until he figured out how to make it on his own. And because, of course, he owed Lestat for saving his life.
Felix had gotten better at figuring out when Lestat’s moods were beginning to overwhelm him, he would become quiet, more irritable than usual. Once he started talking to himself it wouldn’t be long before he would hole up in the shack for a couple weeks, but this was the longest he’d been gone.
Fuck it, I'm going in.
Felix stepped into the building, closing the door behind him to deter any curious mortals from following him.
He followed Lestat’s heartbeat to one of the larger rooms of the house.
Jesus, this place is a dump.
As he crossed the threshold, Felix was stunned to find the room filled with gorgeous, antique-style furniture. A beautiful piano stood in the corner. Then he noticed them, two figures standing near Lestat: a light-skinned Black man and a young girl, both dressed in clothing that looked nearly a century out of date.
They didn’t acknowledge Felix at all, simply stood in silence, staring at Lestat. Lestat sat slumped in a chair, his gaze unfocused, red tears rimming his eyes. He was speaking, but Felix couldn’t make out the words. He wore a tattered old robe.
Felix slowly walked in and kneeled by his side. The man and young girl ignored him and kept staring at Lestat. He suddenly realized that even thought their fierce eyes and coloring marked them as vampires, they had no heart beats. The weren't really there.
More than a little freaked out, he tried to get Lestat’s attention.
“Lestat.”
Nothing.
“Lestat?”
Lestat’s suddenly eyes focused on Felix.
“Louis keeps asking me to play something for him, but I got rid of my piano a while ago. For Claudia, she hated my playing.” He said softly, and weakly lifted his hand to motion to the corner. Suddenly the illusion, if that’s what it was, was gone, along with the two figures. They were alone, and the room was dilapidated again, the ancient, shattered remains of a piano up against the wall.
It had all been a projection of Lestat’s mind.
Felix looked back at Lestat, who seemed to be losing his focus again.
“Lestat! It’s me, Felix!”
Lestat slowly closed his eyes.
Looking around, Felix noticed there were dead rats littered throught the room. He picked one up and looked it. It's neck was torn.
Drained dry. Damn, he's been eating rats?
Unsure of what to do, he tried one more time.
“Lestat. Listen, you have to feed, you can't stay here like this!”
He grabbed Lestat by the arm, intent on pulling him from the chair, but Lestat shrugged him off,
“Fuck off, Felix.”
But there was no real heat behind his words, and he continued to sit there, eyes still closed.
Felix stood there for a while, considering what to do. Then left.
He came back about twenty minutes later carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder. Lestat hadn’t moved.
Felix brought the man’s wrist to Lestat’s mouth, but Lestat remained still.
Frustrated, Felix bit into the men’s wrist then pressed it back against Lestat mouth, hoping the blood from the bite would rouse him.
“Lestat godammit, drink.”
After what seemed like an eternity, Lestat’s hand finally rose to grasp the man’s wrist, and he began to drink. A few moments later, he pulled the man closer and sank his fangs into his neck. His eyes opened, and as he fed, he looked directly at Felix.
Once Lestat finished, he dropped the man’s body. He slowly stood up and looked around, as if still a little dazed.
“How long have I been here?”
“Almost two months.”
Lestat seemed surprised. Looking down at the body, he said, “I still need to feed. Help me get rid of this body, then we’ll go hunting.”
Relieved, Felix lifted the body and headed out, Lestat following.
⸻
Later that night, as Lestat and Felix prepared to rest in coffins at another one of Lestat’s properties, Lestat paused and looked at him, hesitating for a moment.
“I lost track of time back there… I… thank you.”
Felix nodded. He wanted to ask about what he’d seen. He didn’t want to piss Lestat off, but then again, maybe it would help Felix understand him better.
“Lestat,” he asked carefully, “who were those two people I saw with you back there? Who are Louis and Claudia?”
Lestat exhaled tiredly.
“Louis was my companion. And for a while… we had a daughter. Claudia.” His voice went quieter. “I don’t want to talk about it, so don’t ask.”
Even though he now had even more questions, Felix knew better than to bring it up again. After that night, though, whenever Lestat spent more than a few nights in the shack, he would allow Felix to bring him rats. He’d also remind him of how much time had passed, to make sure Lestat was never completely lost in his grief again.
Felix never saw the phantoms again.
New Orleans, Summer 2025
Lestat blushed. He looked away, embarrassed.
“I don’t clearly recall fashioning that plank of wood into a piano…there were times, when I wasn’t feeding, that I wasn’t thinking clearly, and many of my memories of that time are…faulty. I think… you kept asking me to play for you, so I made a keyboard as best I could.”
Lestat suddenly had a flash of memory, of him using the blood of his tears to mark the keys. He sighed, he didn't have to share that with Louis.
“But I could hear the notes in my head so I ended up using it to practice on… I know it sounds crazy now…”
Suddenly Lestat laughed, that wild uncontrollable laugh, which meant he found something incredibly funny, or that he was overwhelmed.
Louis pulled him into a fierce hug, and held on through his laughing fit. When he stopped, he still wouldn’t look at Louis.
“Honey, no,” Louis murmured into his ear, gentle and steady. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
Lestat felt tears well up. Louis kissed him softly, and his kindness, so simple, so unwavering, devastated him.
“You were going through a fuckin’ awful time,” Louis said. “I get it, love.”
Lestat melted into Louis’ embrace, and for a long moment, they stayed that way in silence, as he wept quietly.
Eventually, Lestat spoke again, his voice catching.
“So…I began itching for something to do, but had no idea what it was going to be.”
New Orleans, Summer 2018
Early one warm summer night, Felix was out of town on one of his little adventures, and Lestat was hunting on his own. He was on his way back to the house he’d been staying at the last few weeks when he happened upon a band rehearsal. With his vampiric hearing, he could make out two men and a woman, arguing over whether they should cancel upcoming shows because their singer left the band.
Lestat knew who they were, Satan’s Night Out, a local band he’d seen at some of the dive bars he’d frequented while on the hunt.
In his opinion, losing their lead singer was no great loss.
He was about to go on his way when heard them talk about holding auditions. He stood there for a moment.
Why not?
Decision made, he slipped into the rehearsal room so quietly the mortals didn’t notice him until he was already standing among them.
They were just as he remembered, young, beautiful, all sharp angles, tattoos, and piercings.
“Hello,” he said smoothly, “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re looking for a new singer. Well… your problems are solved.”
Startled by the sound of his voice, they all turned to stare at him.
“What the fuck…” one of the guys muttered.
After a beat, the woman stepped forward. She had dark hair, sharp eyes, and a fierce look about her. She gave him a once-over.
“What’s your name?”
“Lestat.”
“Lestat,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “Okay. That’s Alex, he plays bass. That’s Larry, keyboard and guitar. And I’m TC, I’m on drums.”
“TC?” he asked, raising a brow.
She grinned. “Nickname from when I was a kid. Short for Tough Cookie.”
“So, you can sing?” she asked abruptly.
“Beautifully.”
“Play any instruments?”
“Several.”
“Preference?”
“Piano. Keyboards.”
“How old are you?”
“Does it matter?”
She looked him over again, thoughtful.
“No.”
Direct. I like her, he thought.
“Let me just show you.”
He walked over to the keyboard and glanced at Larry.
“May I?”
Larry nodded cautiously, still sizing him up.
Lestat hesitated for just a moment. It had been decades since he’d played music. Music was tied to the part of him that he'd had to shut down. Music was feeling, and while he still loved to listen, to experience it, to play again was something else entirely. It would be opening a door he'd closed with Claudia’s death. But perhaps it was time to try to live again, even if it meant doing so with only half of his heart.
He steadied himself and after a few experimental keystrokes, Lestat started to play as he sang,
“Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time
I feel alive
And the world, I'll turn it inside out, yeah
And floating around in ecstasy, so
Don't stop me now
Don't stop me,
'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time
I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky
Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity
I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva
I'm gonna go, go, go
There's no stopping me
I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm traveling at the speed of light
I wanna make a supersonic man out of you,
Don't stop me now
I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball
Don't stop me now
If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call
Don't stop me now
Cause I’m having a good time
Don't stop me now
Yes, Im having a good time
I don’t want to stop at all…”
Without skipping a beat he asked them, “Or maybe… something a little funkier?” and abruptly transitioned to a new, slower melody,
”Every man has a place
In his heart there's a space
And the world can't erase his fantasies
Take a ride in the sky
On our ship fantasise
All your dreams will come true right away
And we will live together
Until the twelfth of never
Our voices will ring forever as one”
“Or… progressive?” and the melody slowly transitioned again, to something a little darker,
”But at night, when all the world's asleep
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man…
Won't you please
Please tell me what we've learned?
I know it sounds absurd
Please tell me who I am
Who I am…
who I am…
who I am…”
Playing again after so many years, long-suppressed feelings came rushing in as his fingers moved fluidly along the keys. Everything felt almost painfully heightened. The music transitioned again, now poignant,
”There will be another song for me
And I will sing it
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it
I will take my life into my hands and I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers from the sky
Oh, and after all the loves of my life,
After all the loves in my life
You’ll still be the one
And I’ll ask myself why?”
Suddenly, Louis’ shade was standing there, a soft smile on his face.
Of course he would be. He had always loved to hear Lestat play.
Lestat’s voice wavered for just a moment, but he squashed down the grief that suddenly rose within him, and before he could be overwhelmed by it, he transitioned into yet another song, a little angrier now, he couldn’t break down now,
”Back and forth, I sway with the wind
Resolution slips away again
Right through my fingers, back into my heart
Where it's out of reach and it's in the dark
Sometimes I think I'm blind
Or I may be just paralyzed
Because the plot thickens every day
And the pieces of my puzzle keep crumbling away
But I know there's a picture beneath
Indecision clouds my vision
No one listens
Because I'm somewhere in between
My love, my agony
You see, I'm somewhere in between
My life is falling to pieces
Somebody put me together
Between my love and my agony
You see, I'm somewhere in between
My life is falling to pieces
Somebody put me together
Somebody put me together
Somebody put me together…”
The last notes rang through the room, and for a moment, no one said anything. They just stood there stunned, taking in what they’d just witnessed. His vocal range was almost inhuman, and he had played brilliantly, but it wasn’t just that. The transitions had been seamless, the emotions behind them visceral: joy, love and longing, rage and desperation.
Then Alex let out a slow, incredulous laugh.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “Did you just… string all that together? Right now? ?
Larry blinked. “Queen into Earth, Wind & Fire into Supertramp into…was that MacArthur Park, into Faith No More?”
He shook his head. “Who even are you?”
Lestat gave a shrug.
“Do you know any songs that aren’t forty years old?” TC asked snarkily.
“Would you have preferred something from Maroon Five?” Lestat replied, just as snarkily.
She grinned.
“Do you write?” Alex asked. “We all write a little, but our last singer wrote most of the songs, and now we need to work on some new ones.”
“Yes, I write songs.”
“Would you be able to start coming to rehearsals right away? We all have day jobs, so it would be at night.”
“That works for me, since I’m a vampire.”
They looked at each other, not quite sure what to make of that, then started laughing.
Lestat just laughed along with them.
New Orleans, Summer 2025
“And the rest you know, mon ange. I was back at the beginning of something again. We spent the next three years writing music, performing. We went on the road, and I figured out the logistics of how to travel with them. As our songs become more popular, we began to tour more.”
“And yet, being part of an up and coming band…there would be times when I wanted to be alone, away from all others. When I wanted to spend time with you, my memories of you and Claudia, I mean…I would go to the house, the one I had waited for you in for so long.”
He smiled and pulled Louis close.
“And then, one night” he said softly, “I was there, lost in my grief, when I heard your heartbeat for the first time in over seventy years. It was a miracle”.
Lestat grasped Louis’ hands, the rings Louis had bought them when they were still trying to figure themselves out, glinted in the light.
He brought Louis’ hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his ring.
“And then there was you, Louis.”
“And now, here we are, love,” Louis replied as he embraced Lestat.
Louis kissed him tenderly.
“Thank you. I know this wasn’t easy,” he said, kissing him again. Love flowed between them as they held each other.
In one smooth movement, Lestat pulled Louis over him so that he was straddling him.
“Now Louis, have I answered all your questions for tonight? Are you satisfied?
Louis grinned down at him, “Yeah, you did, at least for tonight.…although me being satisfied is a different story.”
He kissed Lestat on the scar by the side of his mouth that always drove him a little crazy, before biting Lestat’s lower lip, drawing just the tiniest bit of blood, tasting him. Nothing tasted as delicious as his maker’s blood. Lestat’s pupils dilated as he grasped Louis’ ass.
“But we got about an hour before the sun is up, more than enough time for you to do somethin’ about that, cher.”
Lestat loved it when Louis got bossy.
⸻
A few hours later, early into the day, Lestat lay in their bed, with Louis asleep in his arms, his head resting over his maker’s heart.
Being older, Lestat didn't need to rest as much as Louis. Since they’d moved back in together, he would often lie awake, watching Louis sleep, marveling at his luck. How impossible it had once seemed, that he would ever have Louis back in his life, and how incredible it was that they finally found a home in one another as he had promised Louis so long ago.
To be so open with Louis tonight had been cathartic. Truth be told, he’d had no idea how much pain he'd held on to from those years, and now he felt less burdened by the past. Lestat loved that they had come to trust each other so completely. Louis now knew everything of importance about him…
Well almost.
During the documentary, much of Lestat’s past had come to surface. Louis now knew about his time with Marius, how he had been in the presence of Those That Must Be Kept. Their existence wasn’t a secret any longer, one of his songs even referenced her.
The last few months he'd started having dreams of Akasha, and in his dreams he heard her voice, the same one he'd heard when he'd tried to walk out into the sun. He wasn't sure what it meant, and he hadn't told Louis, he hadn’t wanted to worry him unnecessarily. But he knew what Louis would think about that.
He supposed bad habits died hard.
There was no reason not to tell him, and tonight had shown him once again how much better things were between them when there were no secrets.
How different things might have been if only he’d come to that realization sooner. He thought of Claudia then, how much he missed her.
Lestat kissed the top of Louis’ head before closing his eyes. He would tell Louis tomorrow night.