Armand was sleeping. He found that there was little else to do in the small apartment in Rue Royale. He couldn't go out. The most he could chance was to wander down to the building's garage and call out his victims to him early of an evening. They would wander down because they wanted to die, and then Lestat would drive them off to be dumped into the harbour. This was a task Lestat undertook with much revulsion and complaints, his aversion to be near dead bodies still as present in this day and age as it was when he was mortal. He would moan about it to Armand for a while, wipe his "dead body germed" hands on Armand and generally cause a fuss, then he'd storm off in a state only to have to dispose of the bodies the next evening.
The hiding was unsavoury for Armand. But it was the only course of action he could take, after the previous, disastrous attempts to avoid Santino had ended so badly. He thought back on their last encounter.
The cold Russian streets were adrift with snow as Armand stood, his back pressed to the thick brick wall, while his antagonistic pursuer stood so close to him.
His pursuer pushed him into the wall in his rage.
"Who do you think you're kidding, punk? There is no way you're old enough to enter my night club."
"Did you just call me punk?"
"Yeah short stack, you got a problem with that? Now because I said move, you move!"
"I have shown you my id, now you are obligated to let me in."
"I ain't obligated to give you nothin'.
"Your lack of appropriate grammar leads me to wonder how you ever added 'owner of a nightclub' to your list of accomplishments. Did you sign the deed with an x?"
"That's it. Kid, you're dead. "
Armand sighed and rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."
The club owner grabbed Armand by the scruff of his collar and dragged him along to the alleyway behind the club with every intention of 'teaching him a lesson'. Armand allowed himself to be towed to the alley, and gazed apathetically up at the enraged bull of a manager.
"Say goodbye to that pretty face of yours." The owner said, oozing his theatrical urges as he raised his fist in anticipation of the punch. He expected to see fear on the face of this stubborn juvenile, but the boy continued to stare up at the owner, his expression cynically incredulous, one eyebrow raised as if to say to the man, "Are you done yet?" He let fly his fist.
Instantaneous pain splintered up his arm. He opened his mouth to scream but a slim hand clamped over it. Armand had crushed the man's fist in his palm.
"Now," he said. "I don't usually do this so haphazardly, but judging by the way you talk to others, I'd say that you wanted to die."
The man's frantic eyes watered with the intense pain. He stared on in disbelief that something so small could be so strong.
"Take solace in the fact that this means I won't be drinking in your club." Armand quickly tore the flesh on the burly club owner's throat and gulped down his thick, sweetened blood. The strong taste of the vodka in his system gave a warm tingly feeling to the kill as Armand reeled in the colours.
The quiet drinking drew no unwanted attention as Armand watched the last of this man's life drain from his system. He drew back just before the swoop of death closed the book on Krishnov, the club owner's life. The man lay collapsed in the gutter. It seemed that he was sleeping. Sleeping in the cold. Armand knew a thick layer of snow would cover him in a couple of hours and hid the body behind the garbage bins.
The swoon had tired Armand, and he wanted just for a moment to languish in it. To roll in the sweetness and bitterness of the kill and let these turbulent emotions overpower him. Armand sank down into the snow; his back against the wall next to the club's frozen garbage bins, and closed his eyes. He sighed, took several deep breaths, luxuriating in this moment of peace and forgetfulness.
With his eyes closed, he could feel a tickling across his hand. Fur and whiskers, and a small wet nose. A rat. It scurried across his hand and stopped as it perched itself on Armand's leg.
Armand kept his eyes closed. He had no reason for any aversion to rats. They were the things others feared, as Lestat had so eloquently put it in his book. It was probably after the trash, or maybe even after the dead man. Armand didn't care. He did mind that this rat was intruding on his one small moment of peace he'd had all evening. He brandished his hand absentmindedly to shoo the rat away. It stayed exactly where it was, on Armand's knee.
Armand turned his head, and then opened his eyes to stare crankily at the rat.
"Go away." Armand told it. He grabbed the rat in a sudden movement, holding it tightly without killing it just yet.
"My rats are stubborn."
Armand looked around to identify the voice he heard so close to him. He knew who must have said it, it was Santino, but where was he?
While Armand was looking around the rat bit his hand. With a gasp of pain Armand threw the rat away from him, and it hit the wall with enough force to kill it upon impact. Santino's disembodied laugh echoed through the alley way.
Armand couldn't see Santino. He raced out of the alley and barrelled down the street. The snow was whipping up into a storm. Humans rushed to get to their cars, driving to the comfort of their warm homes. They hardly noticed Armand as he ran across the frozen court, looking behind him as his hair flew about his face in the wind. Then, with an uncomfortable crash, Armand barrelled into a tall figure and threw them both onto the floor.
"Sorry." Armand said in a distracted fashion, still looking over his shoulder.
"It's quite alright," the ringing voice replied. "It's a pleasant change, for you to come to me this time."
Armand reared up with disgust from the body below him. Santino smirked up at Armand and twined his arms around the boy vampire's waist.
"Leaving so soon? It does terrible things, when you leave people like this."
Armand rolled his eyes and tried to stand up, pushing feebly at Santino's circling limbs.
"Go away, Santino. Stop following me. I've told you this already. Do you ignore me out of choice?"
"Yes, I do." He smiled. "I seem to see more of you that way. You really should stop running like this. It must be dreadful for you not to have a place to go."
"I have plenty of places to go. Let go."
"Oh really? Like where? You can't go to a lot of places you like now."
Armand sighed and again pushed at Santino's arms, stubbornly stuck to Armand's hips.
"I don't even like that nightclub. Just because you have your rats standing sentinel, does not mean that I cannot go to that particular establishment should I so choose. I can go to other places. And really, you did me a favour, because I don't like childish places like bowling alleys, or parks, or theme parks."
Armand's lower lip jutted out.
"But you cannot go to your friends can you?" Santino replied.
"I could if I wanted to."
"But you do not. I've watched you." Santino said, sitting up slightly so his face drew closer to Armand's. "Your master and fledgling are in Germany, in a very accessible place to you. They've been broadcasting their position to you. And you do not go to them. And you wonder why."
Armand frowned. He was closing his mind to Santino. This was all just guesswork. Probably.
"They have both gone crazy and it is your fault." Santino smiled. "The fledgling does not talk but mutter derisive remarks to all who address him. Your master still mourns for you, and seeks to revenge himself upon me with the persistence of the mad."
Santino's arms tightened about Armand's waist with that remark, crushing Armand to him with an urgency of fear that pained Armand physically.
"Let go, you're hurting me."
"Ah, but you are hurting me." Santino whispered. Armand looked up to his face, as he had not done before, choosing instead to look anywhere but. Red tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. Santino was silently crying.
"Why can you not stay with me, just for these days? For these last days before the last days cease and I am finally received by hell. You are my last request. My only request that I may set right and pass knowing I have lived how I should."
Armand pushed once more against Santino's chest. He was lying about Marius and Daniel. They would not be driven mad. Well, maybe Daniel could go mad, Armand had seen him change before in those days he wandered drunk through the streets as a mortal. He was mad then, was he not? But Marius was never mad. He never lost his grip on sanity through all his millennia spent walking throughout the ages. Santino was lying. He always lied.
"You lie." Armand said coolly, his deference to Santino's pain infuriated the Italian vampire. "My life with you will not save your damned soul. If you think for one second that I would somehow absolve you of anything, you are wrong. Why should I?"
"You owe it to me."
"I owe you nothing."
"You destroy me now!" Santino cried. "Is it so easy for you to forsake a life? Your master weeps for you every night. His love is now mingled with hate that he would destroy you and me both. He puts up with the presence of your fledgling only to draw you to him so that he might keep you to himself. The moment you return to him he will kill the child, as he kills all the young ones. As you kill all the young ones."
"You are wrong. My master has a love that is boundless and a patience to match it. He would never kill Daniel, and he would never be driven mad by such a problem as you."
Santino leered at Armand for a moment. "But he would be driven mad by someone else perhaps. You are forgetting how skilful you are at instilling in others a flickering of insanity."
Armand's temper flared. He abruptly kneed Santino in the groin and smacked his forehead with his palm. Temporarily freed from the strong grasp of Santino Armand took to the rooftops, running at breakneck speed. As Santino groggily removed his prone form from the icy floor he looked around for his auburn haired paramour. Seeing nothing his mind burst with anger. A corresponding burst of flame was shot randomly out to the Russian street. An air-conditioning unit set aflame. He roared, a terrible sound that Armand could hear although he was already miles away.
"YOU DRIVE ME MAD, ARMAND. NEXT TIME YOU WON'T ESCAPE SO EASILY. NEXT TIME THERE WILL BE NO RUNNING, EVEN IF I HAVE TO CUT YOUR LEGS OFF. YOU ARE MINE, YOU HEAR ME? MINE!!"
Armand took to the sky without looking back. He was in trouble. This was about the time when Armand decided he needed help. He was going to America. Where he was sure a certain someone would let him stay.
Armand patted his legs and repressed a shudder. Staying with Lestat was definitely worth it considering the alternative. Lestat conveniently walked into the room once Armand had reached this revelation.
"Armaaaaaaannnnnd! I feel all icky now. You disgust me with your draconian eating habits. I mean, honestly, why was she so badly beaten like that? You're horrible, a horrible person."
"She was like that when I found her." Armand murmured.
"Oh." Lestat frowned. "Did you see who did it to her?"
Armand sighed and looked up at Lestat, his expression apathetic. "I didn't see. I didn't know her. I just called out to those who wanted to die. And that's all I know about her, that she was calling me to die. I don't know who hurt her, I don't know how it happened. I don't know if she was loved or if she'll be missed. I don't even know her name."
Lestat was incredulous. "But surely you collected this information when you fed, saw her life and all its woes."
"Just colours my friend. I only see the colours now."
Lestat's mood swings were incorrigible. In this present conversation alone he went from bubbly and effervescent, to murderously vengeful, finally to deplorable woe.
Armand turned a lazy eye to Lestat's saddened figure leaning over the edge of the couch. Lestat's eye had a most alluring glimmer of sadness and regret that Armand had not seen in him for many years. Armand frowned. Lestat was the reason he was still alive, and ambulatory for that matter, right now. He wanted to extinguish that glimmer, and for a moment, he felt incredibly thankful to Lestat for protecting him.
Armand leaned quickly up to Lestat and kissed him on the cheek. Lestat blinked in confusion.
"How now? What was that for?" Lestat stared questioningly into Armand's brown glass eyes.
Armand smiled sweetly, then slapped Lestat on the side of the head.
"You're what? 250 years old and you still can't dispose of a body? This is outrageous, I can't believe you, how childish."
Lestat reared up in an outrage of his own.
"Well excuse me! I didn't realise I was causing you such an inconvenience by doing your dirty work for you Armand. I think I have a right to complain in this instance. And you hit me again. You just hit me! How dare you call me childish?"
"Oh, Oh, we're starting with this again are we? What, I can't call a child a child anymore? I ought to tell Louis, he'd put a stop to this."
Lestat was visibly flustered while Armand continued smirking at his obvious discomfort.
"How- whatcha-nowa- but I was going to tell Louis. You stole my idea! You hit me first."
"Well, you called me a child."
"You are a child."
"I'm not, I'm older than you are!!!"
"LOUIS!" they both called in unison.
In the study in the adjacent room Louis shook his head. He made no move to come patch up their dispute. He could see what was going on. Lestat and Armand's thunderous footfalls thudded down the corridor.
"Louis!" Lestat whinged, he leant in the doorframe of the study and he looked pleasantly mischievous and compelling.
Armand barrelled after him and tried to push past Lestat's tall figure in the doorway. Lestat attempted to block Armand with his body and the ensuing struggle made Louis laugh out loud.
"Louis, don't believe anything he says, it's all is fault."
"You wish midget, you ought to learn a little respect for your elders."
"Yeah, well you ought to grow up sometime in the next century."
"Next century, that's plenty of time; don't rush me Armand, just because you didn't have much of a childhood!"
"Well some of us have to grow up!"
Louis waved his hand dismissingly. "Sure, go back to making out, please, and getting a room might not be such a bad thought either."
Armand and Lestat both paused in their fighting and looked quizzically at the sarcastic vampire, chuckling quietly to himself.
"Louis, what on earth are you snorting about?" Lestat asked indignantly.
"And as if I'd get a room with this buffoon, Louis."
"Aww," Louis smiled. "You really do love one another. You know, children often pick on those who they fancy."
Armand rolled his eyes. Lestat flicked his hair out of his face and stood upright. Armand adjusted his posture too, as previously he was hanging over Lestat's hip to try to break through the door.
"You know what Louis, I think you are either lying, or proving how much you love me." Lestat began smiling enchantingly. "If it's the latter, then you should have said so earlier, Chere." He walked towards his dark haired lover with grand sweeping movements and kissed him on the head.
Armand stood in the doorway watching this display with distant eyes. Louis noticed this and then mentioned to the room. "We should call someone over, don't you think. Get some new company for Armand."
Armand raised his brow. Lestat smiled wickedly. "Like a baby sitter!"
An ornamental clock flew across the room in the next millisecond, and so Louis pulled away as it smashed against Lestat's marble cheek. Looking back at the door, Louis could see that Armand had stormed out. He brushed pieces of clock off his cardigan and pushed away from Lestat who was still spluttering fragments of clock away from his mouth.
"Why did you have to ruin it?" Louis stood up as Lestat fell into the high backed chair.
"Louis!"
"You call someone. Get someone over here, I want to go out."
Lestat frowned in confusion. "Like a date –"
He stopped when he saw Louis hand twitch towards another ornament.
"Alone. Don't follow me." Louis slammed the study door and could be heard slamming doors on his way to the foyer.
Lestat smirked at his fledgling's bout of temper. A marvellous opportunity presented itself here. A chance to go out and leave Armand at home, relieving Lestat of his cabin fever, procuring a minder for Armand.
And if done right, he could kill two birds with one stone and use this as a chance to get back at Armand for the blue paint incident, whilst making up to someone he owed a debt to for grievances he issued in the past.
Lestat reached for the phone, and the echo of self satisfaction pouring fourth from Lestat washed over the apartment. In his room, the sulking Armand felt this emotion and shivered.
Lestat dialled...
Well sorry for the delay! Start of school and such puts pressures onto my writing habits, but I hope I have successfully delivered a decent chapter for you all. They fight because they love each other, and of course a fight would draw Lestat from his melancholy mood swing. Thank you for your kind review, Lady MoonChan, and we'll get to work on that writing exercise, which we could both post onto this site soon-ish. To Swetlana, this chapter precedes your good ideas which will be implemented in the next, let's see if you can guess where this is going, or who is visiting next chapter. To all the secretive, non reviewing readers, I can promise you a chapter next post full of twists, turns and belly laughs. Love Felice! x