Louis watched in horror as the white van sped towards the cat. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and too quickly at the same time. His limbs reacted before his mind could form a coherent thought. With all the speed his vampire body could muster, he raced toward the tabby, seizing him mid-sprint. Not a second too soon! A gust of wind blasted past them as the van rushed by – just before they somersaulted onto the pavement. Louis curled his body around the kitten, he held firmly pressed against his abdomen, to shield it from the impact.

Almost anxiously, he looked down at his midsection. Barney was there. Befuddled and shivering. Not quite understanding what had just happened. But alive. Apparently unharmed. Louis stroked the cat’s head and hugged his knees to form a protective circle around Barney. Three near-death experiences – even though one had only been a nightmare, Louis reminded himself – in one night, was enough for a tiny kitten. Nine lives or not.

They sat curled up, catching their breaths for what felt like a moment or eternity, when a hand touched Louis’ shoulder and a familiar voice, with a distinct panicked undertone, gasped, “Mon dieu, are you alright?”

Without looking, Louis fondled his lover’s hand reassuringly. “He’s fine. Just a bit shaken. Don’t worr-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence when Lestat shrieked, “He? What do you mean ‘he’?”

Louis blinked at Lestat: “Barney. Our cat. That van almost hit him!” He gestured towards the van that had long been gone by now.

“Quoi?” Lestat bellowed. “Barney? I just saw you running towards that camion and thought…” He paused to assess the situation. Louis. The van. Barney. “Oh, you idiot animal!”

In his rage, Lestat grabbed the kitten and shook him so fiercely that Barney’s tiny head wobbled back and forth uncontrollably. Afraid, Lestat would snap the little creature’s neck, Louis snatched Barney away from his fuming husband and placed him cautiously back in his lap, where the trembling tabby took shelter in the kangaroo pocket of Louis’ hoodie.

“What are you playing at? He’s afraid and in shock as it is! Leave him alone!”

Lestat’s face was almost comically contorted with anger and fear. Why fear? It took a moment for Louis to understand what had set Lestat off like a fuse, and immediately his own mood mellowed. He reached out to touch Lestat’s face and caressed his cheek. Leaning in, he kissed him until he could hear a protesting “mow” emitting from his pouch. When he pulled back, the rage had evaporated from Lestat’s face and what remained was concern.

“I thought…” Lestat started and then his voice broke.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t… I’m fine. I really am.” Louis decided it wasn’t the right moment to point out that a van couldn’t have caused much damage to a vampire, even one as fragile and human as Louis was (in the eyes of the rest of their kind).

Lestat nodded slowly, relief washing over his face, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his husband, still cowering on the pavement, sheltering their pet cat. They stayed that way for a while, the two vampires and their cat, taking comfort in the presence of the other.

“Let’s get you home.” Lestat finally said. He helped Louis up and together they walked back to 1132 Rue Royale, Lestat not letting go of Louis, and a still quivering Barney preferring the safety of Louis’ hoodie.

---

When the trio approached their townhouse, Louis immediately spotted the young woman sitting on the steps before the door. She looked youthful, almost girlish, although Louis knew she was in her 30s. Her long locs were a messy twist of colours with blonde streaks that stood out against her light brown complexion. She wore a neon green fishnet top over a black bralette, black synthetic leather leggings and bright pink glittering platform boots. For Tough Cookie, keyboarder of the Vampire Lestat rock band, this was quite a modest outfit.

She bounced a big brown paper bag on her knees, obviously waiting for the owners of the house to make a return. When she saw them, she just gave a small nod of acknowledgment and stuck her chewing gum underneath the step she was sitting on.

“Hello, boss. Louis.” She greeted the two men. “I’ve got some food for our new band mascot. Where is he? You haven’t eaten him yet, have you?”

Louis ignored the quip and pulled out the still uncharacteristically timid Barney from his kangaroo pocket. He held the cat out to Cookie, who immediately started to coo in a very un-Cookie-like fashion and – putting the paper bag aside – took a reluctant Barney in her arms.

She cradled him like a baby and said in a sing-songy voice, “Uuuuhhh, what have these bad, bad vampires done to you, eh? Have they fed you at all? Or have they put you on a blood diet?” Cookie scolded while the tabby looked quite unsure what to make of this new treatment.

Lestat huffed and strutted past her into the house, which left Louis to pick up the paper bag. He took up the rear behind Cookie and Barney as they followed the blond vampire straight into the dining room, which seemed the appropriate place to feed a cat. Before they could reach it, though, Lestat’s phone rang, and mouthing “It’s Christine”, he returned to the parlour to take the call.

Louis and Cookie were left alone on opposite sides of the dining room table, with Cookie still holding the newly promoted band mascot and Louis the paper bag in his arms. It was Barney, who broke the awkward silence between them by clawing himself free from Cookie’s grasp. He ran across the smoothly polished table and came to a skidding halt in front of Louis and the promising contents of the bag. Curiously, he sniffed at it and Louis reached down to rub the small cat’s head.

“Careful, little rascal, or you’ll break your neck. And I can’t always be there to save you, you know?”

After she’d observed the scene for a moment, Cookie asked, “So how are you two getting on? Lestat was a bit nervous.”

Louis shrugged, not wanting to get into detail. He’d known Cookie and the other band members, Alex (drums) and Larry (guitar), for some years now, but they still didn’t have quite the bond that Lestat shared with them. Although their first encounter had been far from ideal – occurring at a time when Louis and Lestat were not officially back together but had been gravitating toward each other more and more – the band members had intended to surprise their leader with a party, only to be faced with the sight of the singer in a rather compromising position, au naturel, with a stranger. Soon enough, Alex, Larry, and Cookie learned that there was no Lestat without Louis.

Louis had tried not to interfere with the band’s dynamics and had kept in the background as much as possible until… well… things had happened that none of them liked to dwell on. Afterwards, the band had basically dissolved and gone their separate ways. Cookie had only recently moved back to New Orleans.

“So what have you got in your grab bag?” Louis asked no one in particular and opened the paper bag to find an assortment of tins and boxes of cat food, some pet toys and some small plastic bottles containing a white liquid. The label said “kitten milk” and showed a picture of a grey tabby cat not unlike the one sitting in front of him. Louis held the bottle out for Barney to sniff.

“What do you think, little rascal? Shall we try this one first?”

“There’s a cat bowl in there, too.” Cookie remarked. “I didn’t know if you had any dishes in the house.”

“We do have a few glasses and decanters somewhere but… you’re right. This is probably better,” Louis answered, pulling out a white and dark blue ceramic bowl which was adorned with happy, smiling cat faces and fish bones. Louis poured the kitten milk into the bowl and had to stop a frantic Barney from jumping into it. Once settled, Barney lapped up the milk hungrily, his little pink tongue flicking in and out between his tiny fangs.

“That seems to do the trick,” Cookie commented and walked over to grab a can of beer out of the paper bag for herself. With a wink at Louis, she added, “Didn’t know if you had anything fit for humans in the house, either.”

She pulled out a chair, plopped down on it and put her heavy boots on the immaculate mahogany table. Louis frowned at the sight but refrained from saying anything and instead continued to gently rub the soft, short hair on the cat’s head. Barney cleaned out the bowl in no time and looked up at Louis expectantly.

“You still hungry?” Louis chuckled. He rummaged further inside the bag. “Let’s try one of these next?” He held out a small pink sachet, which promised “chunks in gravy” and looked quite appetising for a cat. Or so Louis hoped. He ripped it open and squeezed the contents into the bowl. A pungent smell hit Louis’ nose immediately and even Cookie wrinkled her human nose. Barney’s reaction, however, was almost comical. His little nostrils flared and shrank as he tried to absorb the odour, and Louis could have sworn that if cats could go cross-eyed, Barney would be doing just that. Louis and Cookie watched in varying degrees of disgust as the cat dug in happily, chomping on the “chunks”, which were floating in a fluid of questionable colour.

“Putain de merde!” Lestat exclaimed as he entered the dining room. “What is this stench? Dégueulasse!” He pinched his nose, face twisted in revulsion at the foul tang. “Enculé! Are they trying to poison you, Barney?”

He snatched up the cat, droplets of kitten milk and “gravy” flying from Barney’s snout and whiskers, and stormed outside into their small backyard, but not before he made a dismissive gesture at the offending bowl and ordered for someone to “clean up this mess”.

“I’ll do it.” Cookie offered with a chortle. “My nose is less sensitive than yours.”

She went out front in search of a garbage bin and found one behind the gates to the former carriage way on the left. She dumped the contents of the bowl into the bin and scrubbed it as best as she could with what looked like an expensive but soiled designer shirt that someone had thrown away. Whoever cleaned up after these boys really had their work cut out for them.

When she came back inside, Cookie could hear voices from the dining room. One, that even after decades of living in different places all over the world could not always hide his Creole origins, was clearly yelling at their French husband: “Lestat! Don’t you dare bring that thing into our house! I’m allowing you the cat! I will not allow you any rodents in the house! Especially none that are still alive!” There was a pause where mumbling, including some very colourful French curse words, could be heard, and then: “No, killing the rodent will not make me change my… Lestat!” This was followed by more shouting in French.

Cookie snorted and shook her head. Claudia had been right. They were funny when they fought in French. Because it was better not to get in between two fighting vampires, Cookie waited until she heard a door slam. The house went quiet again when she entered the dining room, where she found Louis’ still figure standing in front of one of the windows overlooking the backyard. She placed the empty cat bowl back on the table and stood next to him.

Outside they could see Lestat, who was apparently trying to teach Barney how to hunt. It was a rather unmatched version of catch-and-release played by a clumsy kitten and a skilled hunter, a skinny little mouse as an involuntary participant.

“Jay-zuhs,” Cookie exclaimed, hiding her face in the palms. She heard a faint chuckle beside her and couldn’t help but join in. Together they watched as Lestat let the mouse loose, while Barney – mostly unsuccessfully – tried to pounce on it. Before the mouse could get away, though, a white hand shot out and dragged it back by its tail. It was a rather cruel display and Cookie felt sorry for the prey, but then she had to remind herself that she was in the presence of three deadly predators – one of them still in training.

After a moment spent in companionable silence, Cookie said without preamble, “You know, you don’t give yourself half the credit you deserve.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Louis flinch a little. “You are stronger than you think you are.”

Louis turned his head slowly to face her, eyebrow slightly raised but didn’t say anything.

“I read the books… yours and his.” She added in lieu of an explanation with a nod indicating Lestat. Louis followed her glance but remained silent.

A clock somewhere in the house chimed twice and Cookie cleared her throat. “I better be off. Some of us need to sleep at night, after all.” She didn’t even expect a reaction this time. “Give that paramour of yours a kiss from me, and tell him he’s welcome for turning me into his little errand girl.” With a last look at Louis, who was still as a statue, she turned to leave.

“Bye, Louis. See you around.”

It wasn’t until she had reached the door to the parlour when she heard a low murmur behind her.

“Thank you.”