Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis (The Vampire Chronicles 12)

Derek fell back on the pillow, hungry and cold. He stared at the distant lightbulb, this soiled ugly light shining in its rusted cage, and he cried with all his soul.

"Chop you up, rend you limb from limb," he whispered. "If only..." When had he, Derek, ever thought such vengeful thoughts? And to think he'd never understood this dimension of human beings, and now he was as poisoned with dreams of vengeance as any human could be.

He rolled over on his left side, and brought the blanket up over his shoulder. Was it safe now to remember that moment, when the tower had blossomed and grown from the egg? Was it all right to remember their being together, roaming Atalantaya together in those endless warm days and nights? He was walking again, with his arm around Garekyn under the great arching green banana leaves, and everywhere he looked there were flowers, pink and red and yellow and purple, flowers of such colors--petals caught swirling in the breeze.

Vines climbed the walls of luracastria, and clusters of petals shivered above him, clusters shaped like clusters of grapes.

Arion woke him. Arion had come in and sat on the bed beside him.

"I have something for you," he said.

"Water, please, I beg you."

"Oh, I brought that as well," said Arion.

Derek sat up. He opened the glistening plastic bottle of cold water and he drank and drank. "I love you for this," he whispered. "I've had no water in days and nights."

"I know. I've put water for you in the refrigerator. I've hidden several bottles under the bed. And I brought you this too."

It was an apple, a bright red apple. Derek took it without a word and devoured it down to the core and then swallowed the seeds and the stem. How fresh and sweet it tasted. He lay back staring at the ceiling. So sweet. He saw the endless fruit trees of Atalantaya, the yellow and orange fruit. You could pick the fruit anywhere at any time. But don't think about it lest this creature, good as he is, can read your mind.

A

rion sat there staring off. He was dressed simply in a sweatshirt and jeans and an old leather jacket with shiny worn elbows. He had none of the elegance of Roland, none of the vanity, none of the preoccupation with subtle ornament. He looked sad, so terribly sad.

"Take what you want from me," said Derek. "I'd beg you to let me out of here but I know you can't."

Arion smiled, but not at Derek. Then he removed something small from his pocket. An iPod. It had to be, though Derek hadn't seen one in years. It had a thin white cord attached and an earpiece.

"Wait till morning," he said, "when you're sure all are sleeping, and then listen to this thing. It's stocked with music and archived radio broadcasts."

Oh, this was a treasure!

Derek accepted the device gratefully and tried to figure it out but unlike his last iPod, his iPod of ten long years ago, this one was a flat piece of glass.

With a few quick taps, Arion brought it to life. Derek followed his fingers, and heard a surge of music, a surge of mingled voices. He put the white earbud in his ear, and heard the throaty voice of the woman singing a song he'd known and loved, "Undercover Agent for the Blues."

"Tina!" he whispered. Oh, this was priceless. This was too wondrous. This was like a magic portal out of his despicable prison.

He bent forward and put his arm around Arion and kissed his cold face. Like stone, it felt, so smooth, as if it were polished stone. They all felt that way, these blood drinkers.

"Now look here, pay attention," said Arion. "I'm going to show you how to find one particular radio archive."

"How will this radio archive help me?" Derek asked.

Arion sat there silent for a moment, pondering, his brows knitted and the iPod held idly in his hand.

"I don't know," Arion said. "But it's our radio, our broadcast...."

"I've heard of this before. From the Court, the Court of the Prince."

"Yes, and no. I don't know. I think it comes from America. But it's something. There are two sound threads, one for humans and a lower one, one only for us. But you'll be able to hear it. Listen to it. Listen to it and maybe you'll come to understand us." He showed Derek the charger. He took it and plugged it in behind the little refrigerator. "Of course if or when he finds out you have it, he'll take it away."

"And you'll be in grave trouble for giving it to me."

"I don't care about that," said Arion. "I may be gone by then. I don't know. It is a canker in me that you're imprisoned here. But I cannot sin against my host." He stood by the refrigerator with his hands in his pockets. He was staring off again. He did not like eye contact. "I feel so sorry for you," he said. "It's full of music. Just listen to the music if you want to. I couldn't bear to think of you down here, all alone, and like this."

There were sounds above.