Louis stared at his lover and the cat on his shoulder, still in disbelief. It took him a while to regain control over his own body again, at least enough to nod his head in agreement. His eyes darted between Lestat’s concerned face and Barney’s curious one. He had just fed and potentially killed the kitten, hadn’t he? How could he be now sitting on Lestat’s shoulder, completely unharmed?

What had Lestat said? “You had a nightmare, mon cher.”

A nightmare? Had he really only dreamed about feeding from the feline?

He felt Lestat’s hand cupping his face, Lestat’s thumb gently caressing his cheek with his thumb.

“You seem… unwell, mon cher. Would you prefer to stay in? I could hunt for you… bring someone… or something… back for you?”

Louis looked from Lestat back at Barney again, and the memory of the softness of his fur and the sweetness of his blood in Louis’ mouth made his bile rise. He just about managed to lean over the side of the coffin before he vomited the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

Lestat and Barney watched him, retching up the remains of his last meal, which – judging by the puncture wounds on his wrist, that Lestat had healed – had been his own blood.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…” Louis’ words sounded feeble and unconvincing even to Louis’ own ears. Lestat rubbed Louis’ shoulder comfortingly in response and extended his own wrist to Louis.

“Have some of my blood, Louis. It’ll make you feel better.”

Louis couldn’t have said if it was the gesture, Lestat’s tone or the whole situation that made his annoyance flare up in this moment. He swatted Lestat’s hand away and growled:

“I said I’m fine!”

He kept his eyes firmly to the ground, he just couldn’t look Lestat and – especially – Barney in the eye, so he only heard Lestat’s huff and a thud as four paws hit the ground after the cat they were attached to, had been dislodged from his sitting place on Lestat’s shoulder as the vampire had sprung to his feet and rushed out of the room.

A little disoriented, Barney sat on the floor and then sniffed the air inquisitively. The pool of vomited blood did exude a somewhat interesting smell but Louis was in no way willing to find out what drinking copious amounts of partially fermented vampire blood would do to a small kitten. He shooed Barney away, got out of coffin and picked up his discarded shirt from this morning to wipe up the liquid.

He threw the soiled shirt with a disgusted look in the bin in the corner before deciding on fresh clothes from the closet: a thin black hoodie and matching trousers. A fitting colour for his dark mood. Then he reluctantly made his way downstairs, where Lestat was probably waiting for him, leaving a confused Barney behind.

He found Lestat in the parlour brooding and staring out of the window.

“Shall we…?” Louis asked tentatively.

Lestat turned around to face him and flipped his hair back over his shoulder. He was irritated, Louis could tell, which did nothing to lift his own spirits.

“So, is it four legs or two legs for us tonight?”

Louis sighed, “Two… but no killing!”

Lestat shrugged in resignation “As you wish…” and turned to head to the door, when a vibrating sound came from the dining room. Lestat followed the sound to answer the phone with an apologetic glance at Louis, who thrust his fists in his pockets in frustration. He was eager to get out of the house for some fresh air, their elegant townhouse suddenly feeling small and suffocating. He heard Lestat answering the phone and calling Cookie’s name. A band thing then. Great.

Louis swayed a little on the spot, undecided whether he should wait for Lestat or head out alone, when he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to the staircase, where he spotted a very guilty-looking Barney gliding backwards down the banister. When the small feline realized he’d been discovered in the act, he tried to stop his descent, resulting in a series of long parallel scratches where his claws tried to get a grip in the wood. He lost his balance, and his hind legs swung off the handrail. Desperately the kitten tried to scramble back up, but his muscles were not strong enough to pull up his body weight.

Louis watched the cat’s futile attempts and looked around for Lestat, who was still nowhere to be seen. With a small panicked sound, Barney lost his battle against gravity and started to fall, his body absurdly gracefully turning in midair, limbs flailing wildly. Louis saw that the kitten would crash right into the beautiful flower arrangement on the hallway table… and into the delicate crystal vase…

With a rather colourful curse on his lips, Louis rushed over and caught the little ball of fur just before it could torpedo into the flowers and be impaled on shards of broken glass. With a faint sense of relief, Louis looked down at his hands, where a pair of impossibly large eyes blinked at him innocently. Louis dropped Barney unceremoniously to the floor and shouted for Lestat to hurry up.

It didn’t take long for Lestat to reappear. When he walked past Barney, he lifted the little cat, cuddled and kissed him before setting him back down on the hallway table. Probably not where an accident-prone cat like the grey tabby should be sitting. Louis rolled his eyes. As Lestat reached the front door, he held it open for Louis and then called, “Barney, viens!”

The kitten gave him a long look and yawned. The sight made Louis snort.

“Ah, mon amour, not everyone is always at your beck and call” he snarled at Lestat and walked past him out onto the street. He didn’t miss the expression on Lestat’s face, which was somewhere between being vexed and being hurt. Deep down, Louis knew he was being petty, but it also filled him with unreasonable pleasure to push Lestat’s buttons. He continued down the street, whistling a little tune, knowing Lestat would catch up with him, which eventually he did.

Once they reached Ursulines Avenue, the two vampires stopped and looked at each other.

“River walk or the park?” asked Louis.

Lestat contemplated this for a moment, then decided, nodding in the direction, “The park. I think they’re having a music festival there tonight. Should be easy to blend in and find someone either too drunk or too stoned to notice when we feed on them. Isn’t this exactly to your taste?”

Louis glared at Lestat but otherwise ignored the quip and made his way towards Louis Armstrong Park. Lestat had been right. There was a festival going on, and the park was full of people celebrating, full of life and blood and hormones. Louis felt suddenly light-headed and dizzy, the loss of blood earlier showing its effects. He should have accepted Lestat’s offer to feed from him, but it was too late now. Of course, he could have asked Lestat, and the older vampire would have never refused him, but silly pride and sheer stubbornness kept Louis silent.

Lestat reached out to take Louis’ hand, who resisted the urge to pull away. Not because they were in a public space – this was the 21st century after all, and most people didn’t bat an eyelash anymore at two men showing affection for one another (and those who did, didn’t matter, especially not to a centuries-old, multi-millionaire immortal) – but because the snake of resentment, which seemed to be permanently coiled up in his intestines, was rearing its ugly head. In the end, Louis allowed Lestat to entwine his fingers with his own, and despite his continued aggravation, he felt grateful for the other’s presence.

Together they strolled through the park, Lestat being enthralled by the music and soaking up the vitality of the young people singing and dancing and enjoying life around them. They had almost reached the Mahalia Jackson Theater, when Lestat stopped dead in his tracks. He whirled around with a big smile spread across his face to look at Louis, who didn’t need to read his lover’s mind to know that Lestat had found a worthy candidate for tonight’s supper. He returned Lestat’s smile somewhat wearily and made a gesture to indicate Lestat should go along without him.

To his surprise, Lestat didn’t dash off immediately but cowered down next to some bushes nearby and reached into his pocket to pull out a silvery ball of fur.

“You brought… the cat?” Louis spluttered.

Lestat looked up at him slightly irritated. “Naturellement. What else would I have done with him? Leave him alone in the house?”

Something snapped inside of Louis. The darkness, that had encircled him for a few nights now, combined with his hunger, his irritation with Lestat and their new housemate, simply took over and he stormed off, leaving his husband and their pet behind. He didn’t go far, just enough to leave the park and music behind, far enough so he could breathe again. Once the sounds around him faded, he stopped, standing with his hands on his hips, taking in deep gulps of air. He found himself in a dimly lit area of the city. The streets swarming with revellers were just behind him, but he was thankful for a moment of quiet.

After a few calming breaths, he looked around to see where he had ended up, when he spotted a sole figure standing under a street lamp a little further away. A lean, tall boy in blue skinny jeans and a tight, cropped grey t-shirt, smoking a cigarette. Louis recognized the type. He had seen it 128 times – 129 times, he corrected himself – before, in San Francisco. Young, desperate for a meal or drugs (mostly drugs) and willing to do anything – with anyone – for a couple of bucks. The way the young kid – he couldn’t be more than 20 – paced up and down the pavement and nervously sucked on his cigarette told Louis that he couldn’t have been doing this for a very long time. Still new to the business of selling his body, but hopeless enough to do it anyway.

Without making a conscious decision, Louis reached into the back pocket of his trousers and took out a pack of cigarettes. He sauntered over to the other man, casually looking around to make sure they were alone. The kid spotted him, stopped his pacing and set his shoulders, trying to look cool and composed. Louis took out one of his cigarettes and approached the hustler with a gesture probably as old as time and universally understood.

“Got light?”

The young man nodded, leaned in and let Louis light his cigarette on his own. For a moment, they just stood there inhaling and exhaling the smoke and assessing the other. Louis had been right. It was only a kid. Definitely still a teenager, maybe not even of legal age. His complexion was a shade deeper than Louis’, his black hair cropped short, and his eyes, kind eyes, a dark brown. His face was friendly with a warm smile, but the faint twitch around the corners of his mouth betrayed his otherwise relaxed posture.

“Anything else I can do you for?” The kid scratched his scalp nervously. “But it’s gon’ cost ya.” He gave Louis a lopsided grin.

“I got money…” Louis pulled out a roll of bills from his pocket and let the kid glance at it before sliding it back in. The kid whistled appreciatively and then nodded towards a gap between some houses, the darkness between them promising some privacy.

The gap wasn’t very wide, and Louis could feel the body heat radiating from the kid’s body. A tangled blend of fragrances drifted off of him: sweat mixed with the spicy, musky scent of a rather expensive perfume – maybe residue from a previous client? – and a sensory concoction of onions, cooked vegetables and other food flavours that were odorant leftovers from his last meal.

The kid laid a finger on Louis’ face and traced it down Louis’ cheek bone.

“So… what you want me to do?” he asked in a low voice and moved in closer to kiss Louis.