It was one of those sweltering New Orleans summer nights. The heat of the day still lingered, but the breeze that drifted through the open windows carried the essence of night-blooming flowers, their sweetness making the air more bearable. Louis was outstretched on the settee in the parlour, the book he was currently reading momentarily forgotten on his chest as he breathed in the familiar fragrance. Maurice and Alec could wait a moment.

Louis inhaled deeply, the sweet aroma of honeysuckle mingling with the rich, smoky scent of expensive French tobacco and the aged leather of bound books inside their townhouse on 1132 Rue Royale. It brought back memories of his early months as a vampire, when his heightened senses had made him acutely aware of the many perfumes of the night. Nights spent with Lestat, when he had been a fledgling, a fragile baby bird still learning to fly, to navigate this new world with uncharted abilities.

Nights full of indulgence, of love and blood.

Though he had always struggled with the killing aspect of his new existence, there had been one thing he had never struggled with in those early months: Lestat’s unwavering presence, the love he offered, and the acceptance of Louis as he was.

“Be all the beautiful things you are, and be them without apology.”

It had been both liberating and exhilarating, an existence both overwhelming and undeniable in its intensity.

Music began drifting through the room and brought Louis back to the 21st century. Lestat was playing the piano. Louis cocked his head slightly in an unnecessary human notion to hear the music more clearly. A French composer Lestat had become rather fond of during their years of separation. It was a melancholic tune, full of yearning and tenderness. Louis could almost feel Lestat’s slender fingers gliding across the keys as the melody unfolded its magic, rising and falling like a lullaby.

“In a world between a dream and reality, ethereal beauty dances with the light of the moon.”

That’s how Lestat described it once, explaining the title.

Louis listened to Lestat continuing the piece with a number of variations – some more delicate, some more passionate – before returning to the Durhams’ estate. Just when he was about to lose himself in the bittersweet romance, he caught a brush of silver-grey fur weaving around the furniture. He put his book down again until the graceful frame of their pet cat sauntered around the corner. Her tail swaying almost lazily from side to side, Barney stopped for a moment, irritated to find the settee already occupied with one of her wearisome vampiric companions. With a tilt of her head, she proceeded on her way, soundlessly on soft, padded paws, and closed the gap to Louis’ hand. She bopped her head against it and demanded to be petted. Dutifully, Louis obliged until she decided it was enough and wandered off again.

Lestat’s improvisations shifted into a different song, and Louis could hear him softly humming along to the tune. It was no longer fragile and weightless; it was richer, insistent and unrelenting. Louis frowned slightly. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Was it one of Lestat’s own songs? The soft melody soon turned into words.

My mother said I’m too romantic
She said, “You’re dancing in the movies”
I almost started to believe her
Then I saw you and I knew

The breeze that had previously brought the ghosts of past memories into the house and had filled Louis’ mind with the images of their early years together now carried Lestat’s voice, smooth and almost velvety. Although Louis would never admit it openly, Lestat’s singing had always touched something hidden inside him. The raspy undertone that gave it a deepness and warmth never ceased to melt even the thickest layer of ice around Louis’ heart, not even after their big fight.

Maybe it’s ’cause I got a little bit older
Maybe it’s all that I’ve been through
I’d like to think it’s how you lean on my shoulder
And how I see myself with you

I don’t say a word
But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know
There you go, saving me from out of the cold

At his words, Louis’ breath, that he didn’t know he’d been holding, escaped in a quiet sigh. He was fully aware that Lestat knew he was listening to every one of his words and that he was singing them just for his lover. Louis closed his eyes and let the music wrap him in its magic. The book in his hands was long forgotten; his fingers rested lightly against the worn pages, but his attention was only with Lestat.

Fire on fire would normally kill us
But this much desire, together, we’re winners
They say that we’re out of control, and some say we’re sinners
But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms

Not one of Lestat’s songs. But it could have been. They were fire on fire after all, two forces that shouldn’t work together, unequivocally bad for each other, yet undeniably bound, imperfectly perfect, completing one another.

‘Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me
And look in my eyes
You are perfection, my only direction
It’s fire on fire, hmm
It’s fire on fire

A sudden commotion in the hallway rudely interrupted Louis’ further descent into the well with no bottom, and before he could even blink to see what the cause was, the source of the ruckus darted into the parlour. A small bird dashed frantically around the room, its tiny wings fluttering wildly, banging into the windows and walls in a desperate attempt to find a way out. Louis groaned.

“Barney, what have we told you? Never in the house!”

The resident feline was conveniently hiding after presumably chasing the little sky-dweller into the room. Louis dropped his book on the floor. Someone would have to get rid of the bird before it could sprinkle the entire interior with pale splashes of nature’s leftovers when he spotted Barney crouching in the doorframe. Her tail was swishing from side to side, her eyes unblinkingly trained on the bird which was temporarily resting on the curtain rod. Louis recognised the unmistakable signs of a predator poised to deliver its deadly blow.

Barney’s hind legs trampled against the floor, as if she rehearsed the leap that was about to come. A ripple went through her form in anticipation when, in one swift motion, her legs shot off the ground, and she rocketed upwards, a blur of fur and muscle.

She twisted mid-air, adjusting her trajectory. The bird caught the sudden movement and tried to avoid the strike, but the feline was already in full pursuit. Her claws shot out, extending like daggers, and with one sharp, sudden snap of her limbs, Barney snatched the bird mid-flight. The bird’s frantic attempt to dodge was futile, as Barney’s jaws clamped around it with unyielding force, and Barney landed elegantly, her torso rising and falling with the thrill of the chase. With one last look at Louis and a triumphant cock of her head, Barney paraded outside with her prey.

Louis couldn’t help but admire the feline’s graceful precision and agility. Barney had really come a long way since the day Lestat had brought her – previously mislabelled as he – into their home as a tiny, clumsy kitten.

While Louis was still pondering the cat’s transition, he caught another movement out of the corner of his eye. Lestat was standing underneath the arch that separated the parlour from the music room, leaning against the frame. Louis hadn’t even noticed that Lestat had stopped playing the piano. Lestat was completely still, his eyes trained on Louis unblinkingly. Once again, Louis sensed the unambiguous cues of a predator about to strike. Not quite lethally this time.

When Lestat began to close the gap between them in long, lithe strides, shedding his clothes along the way, in slow and deliberate movements, the hunger so clearly present in his gaze. When Louis rushed to follow his example, Lestat simply lifted a reprimanding finger that clearly said “don’t”. Louis shifted backwards on the settee until his head was leaning against the armrest, enjoying the view of Lestat, who slid, almost snake-like, on top of him.

When their faces were level with each other, Lestat smiled down at Louis.

“Did you like my music?”

Louis’ throat had gone slightly dry, and he couldn’t quite trust his voice, so he just pulled Lestat’s face down in a kiss. Lestat continued to place a trail of kisses down Louis’ throat and neck, unbuttoning his shirt and treating the naked skin, once it was revealed, with a flick of his tongue. Louis could feel goosebumps rise in the wake of Lestat’s kisses, his body aching for his touch. In an attempt to stop himself from impatiently pushing Lestat’s head, he grabbed the edge of the settee with one hand while he let the fingers of his other hand weave through his own hair.

Fire on fire would normally kill us
But this much desire, together, we’re winners
They say that we’re out of control, and some say we’re sinners
But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms

The words sung in Lestat’s voice echoed in Louis’ mind. In the past, some would have seen their behaviour as sinful, had called them sinners and worse, and for a good while during his mortal and immortal life, Louis had been bound to agree with them. Not anymore. His love for Lestat was what it was: messy and toxic, blinding and fierce, maddening and intoxicating, all-consuming and unconditional, eternal and unbreakable, but above all, it was love. Love is everything. It wasn’t a sin.

Louis watched as one of his hands entangled in Lestat’s lush curls when he heard a soft thud, and the third occupant at 1132 Rue Royale made another appearance. Barney had jumped on the back of the settee on Lestat’s side and made her way up to Louis. The bird she had captured earlier was still half-stuck in her mouth, with the tip of one wing still hanging out between her fangs. A low chuckle rumbled through Louis’ chest when he caught the parallels of the situation as his hips arched upwards and he came into Lestat’s mouth.

---

Louis is reading the novel “Maurice” by E.M. Foster.

Lestat plays Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy.

Song lyrics: Sam Smith – Fire on Fire (Thank you to reddit user Voice of Season for the suggestion in the Interview with the Vampire (AMC) subreddit!)

This chapter is also dedicated to the memory of German singer AnNa R. (who tragically passed away when I worked on this chapter at the age of 55) and her song “Liebe ist Alles” (“Love is Everything”), that she released in 2004 with her band Rosenstolz.