"Louis is going with you?"
There was a great deal more to the question than any casual listener might have supposed. Louis and Armand were the pillars of the New York household at Trinity Gate. Louis and Armand had been together for almost a century long before that.
"Yes," I said. "I'm taking him back with me as soon as we wake." I waited.
I stood on the flagstone sidewalk looking at the distant white wall of the old cemetery. It was quiet and beautiful on this Garden District street with its giant black-barked oaks, and the dark silent multistory houses on either side. "I need Louis," I said.
Oh, the old entanglements, the old jealousies and defeats. But what creature in the world doesn't want to be loved for itself? Even a non-human thing that looked human might want to be loved.
"I'm happy for you," Armand said. Then, "This is serious. This being, whatever it is, it smashed the skull of a blood drinker and devoured the brain."
"But did you actually see this happen yourself?"
"Yes, I saw it all from the point of view of the victim. I couldn't get there fast enough. Remains have been confirmed. The brain's gone."
"And who is the dead blood drinker?"
"Killer, the old friend of Davis and Antoine. Killer, the one who traveled with the Fang Gang."
"I remember," I said. I sighed. I hadn't despised Killer. In fact, I'd liked him. But there had been something blundering and petty and "small time" about Killer. I hadn't liked the idea of his hanging about Trinity Gate. "What is this non-human thing made of?"
"Flesh and blood, Lestat, just like any human," Armand replied. He was becoming annoyed. "Cut the thing, it bleeds. But it's not human." He went on explaining. The blood was thick, good tasting, but it had a flavoring that wasn't in human blood. A flavoring. He couldn't do better than that. Benji had spotted the creature hovering around Trinity Gate. It had followed Benji. The creature had been muttering things about Amel, like a crazed human follower of the radio station, only he wasn't human. Benji called at once for a car and headed home, sending Killer to approach the creature and try to find out what it wanted.
"Well, that was likely very stupid," I said.
"Benji protected himself," said Armand crossly. "And Killer was the oldest blood drinker under the roof. No one else was here, except Killer and a couple of fledglings who'd recently arrived. Antoine had gone home to France when the sun set. Eleni had been with me in Midtown. I came as soon as I could. But I wasn't fast enough. And Killer was eager to go, certain he could manage the thing."
"Eleni," I said. "My old friend Eleni? Everard's Eleni?"
"Yes. Is there another Eleni? She's weary of Rhoshamandes and his fledglings sitting around gnashing their teeth. Or so she says. Look, we can talk about all this later. Holding this thing throughout the day will be a problem, but we're doing the best we can."
I didn't like the idea of Eleni being there. I didn't trust Eleni. I loved Eleni, true, from the old Theatre des Vampires. She'd been a veteran of Armand's Satanic coven under Les Innocents, who had come to join me at the theater, to be free. She'd become my correspondent during the years I wandered in search of Marius. But she'd been made by Everard de Landen under the authority of Rhoshamandes, and she'd been spending most of her time with this bitter enemy of mine and his other fledglings. But to whom was she truly loyal? Armand, who'd once made her a ragged and tormented slave of Satan, or the powerful vampire who'd ruled the household in which she'd been made? I knew Everard's heart. He never tried to disguise it. He loathed and detested the great Rhoshamandes. But what about Eleni? Rhoshamandes had been master of the coven in which she was Born to Darkness and learned her first indelible lessons of the night. Didn't like it. Didn't like it at all.
Louis stood a few feet away watching me. Undoubtedly he heard every word, but his face revealed nothing. He had a remote dreamy expression on his face as he so often did, but I sensed he'd been absorbing everything.
What have I to do with all this, I thought with irritation, but I knew perfectly well what I had to do with it. This was my life now, by choice, to be involved in all things, to be the one whom Armand called to report a comatose non-human imprisoned at Trinity Gate.
"Do you need any assistance from me now?" I asked Armand. "This is all fascinating, of course, but there isn't time for me to come to you."
"I know that. I'm letting you know for obvious reasons. Why do you behave as if I'm deliberately harassing you? Are you the Prince, Lestat, or not?"
"Of course, yes, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."
I saw Louis's faint smile.
"I'll see you tomorrow in the City of Light," said Armand. A beat. "And I am happy for you, that you're with Louis."
I sighed. I wanted to say we all love one another. We all have to love one another. If you and I and Louis don't love one another after all we've been through, well, then all our powers mean nothing, and our dreams mean nothing, and so we have to love one another. And maybe I did say this silently and he heard it, but I doubted it.
"I know," I said. "I'm eager to see you too."
I gave the phone back to Thorne. Where was Amel? Was Amel in New York? Did Amel know what this thing was?
Thorne jarred me out of my thoughts.
"If you gentlemen are determined to proceed on foot," he said, "it's time to head on back downtown."
7