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Moonlight shone in through the windows, satin curtains doing nothing to stop the intrusion and the pooling of paleness on the wooden floors of the bar. The moon had risen only an hour prior, settling itself into its dangling rest in the night sky, and the bar was only just filling with patrons, excited for the promise of a long night of dancing to old and new blues music and the tempting possibility of affordable alcohol.
The depression and the ongoing war on their doorstep in the Old World dragged its raggedy claws through Chicago as it did the rest of America’s 48 states and the globe, but that didn’t stop the people of the nation from craving some sense of normalcy. Louis and his sister, Claudia, were all the same.
They had waltzed into the then-empty establishment at the first snore of the sun underneath the horizon, using some of Lestat’s hoarded wealth to buy them plenty of drinks. Claudia sat next to Louis, bright eyes peering around the place, taking in the blood and heart of the people here, and Louis could almost hear her brain whirring without even delving into it to check.
Louis downed his drink in one go, placing it down hard on the table, too hard. People turned to look at him, scorning with narrowed eyes. Claudia placed a hand on his arm, steady and calming with a hint of a warning to behave normally. Despite what outsiders may think, they were both now grieving in their way. To Louis, a lover. To Claudia, a tormentor, yes, but a figure of a father nonetheless.
Claudia sipped her wine, and Louis unseeingly watched the bartender open and close his mouth, wanting to say something to whom he thought was at least a 15-year-old girl. He was still wrapped up in his thoughts when he felt Claudia tense up on the stool beside him, and he whipped his head up from where he was inspecting the grooves in the wooden counter. For one singular second, he could have sworn he heard Lestat’s lilting voice, but then he heard Claudia’s whispering in his ear. “Another one! Two!”
Numbly, Louis looked toward the entrance of the bar, eyes falling on the two people Claudia was talking about. She was right, of course- both were clearly blood drinkers like them. One, a tall black man with a beard, solemn-faced and alert, and the other, the lady beside him. White, with short brown hair and yellow irises, dark and glancing to and fro with a dangerous air.
Both of their eyes had that glint, and one sniff of the air confirmed it all. They were vampires. The man seemed to exude power, an experienced type, like a man who had been forced to be a leader. But the woman was worse, like she craved it gently and all consumingly. She could only be the man’s maker.
They, much like Claudia and Louis, sensed the presence of the two other vampires in the joint almost immediately, and instantly course-corrected, crash-landing almost into the seats next to Louis like soldiers on a mission. The bartender came over to serve, but the woman waved him off with a flick of the wrist.
You don’t got the money for a little liquor?
Louis sent out a tentative nudge to the man’s brain, reeling back in surprise at how open it was. This woman, his maker, hadn’t taught him a thing about protecting his mind. Or maybe she didn’t know either.
What? Who’s that?
You don’t know how vamps can read minds?
The man beside him turned to Louis, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open from confusion. It was rather cute.
Louis held his hand out, and the man shook it, his calloused hands firm and nice. “Louis de Pointe du Lac. And this my sister, Claudia.” The man nodded well.
“Stack.”
The woman Stack arrived with also offered her hand, which Louis took. “Mary.” Claudia leaned forward to smile in greeting at Mary, and Mary smiled back.
“I’d recognise that southern accent anywhere. Let me guess. Mississippi?” Louis smirked at Stack and Mary, who looked at one another, giving the question pause before Stack nodded, a grin playing on his lips.
“What about you? can’t say I’m knowledgeable about types of speaking.”
“New Orleans,” Claudia replied this time, clawed finger trailing around the rim of her cup. “Who’s ya maker?”
Stack raised an eyebrow, and Louis remembered his earlier noting of the man’s seemingly potent lack of knowledge about vampirism as Louis himself knew it. “The one that made you what you are,” Claudia explained. “The one that bit you, and all of that.”
“Oh. Mary here.” Stack motioned to the pale woman, who smiled, putting a hand on his thigh.
Mary cut in. “His name was Remmick. An Irish vampire. Dead… all of the others dead, too.” She didn’t elaborate, and Claudia didn’t push. Stack pulled out a pre-rolled cigarette from a pack in his back pocket, fumbling around for his lighter before offering one to Louis, who took it. He wasn’t ashamed to say he wasn’t hesitant in the slightest- despite smoking with another usually only being done with Lestat in the past, he was ready to let go for the night, if Lestat let him.
Louis lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag and letting the nicotine hit his dead system like a bolt of electricity. It was all good.
“What brings y’all to Chicago, then?” Mary asked, fumbling with a ring or two on her fingers as she spoke. She seemed to be a little shy to ask.
Claudia answered this question, too, and Louis was thankful for it. Something about Mary made him nervous- nothing bad, just cautious. “Our maker died too. Figured we musta outgrew New Orleans. We’re on our way to Europe.”
“Europe?” Stack interrupted, and Louis watched Claudia’s face morph through multiple indistinguishable emotions. “There’s a war, y'all know that?”
Claudia scoffed petulantly. “Yeah. We have a reason.” Stack motioned for her to continue, and she faltered a little. Louis stepped in.
“Our maker, my… companion, told me and my sister here about vampires in the Old World who would rip us apart. Tryna see if he lied about that, too,” he said, the taste of bitter sentimentalism strong on his tongue.
Mary clicked her tongue. Stack said, “I see.” Claudia went back to tracing her finger around the rim of her glass, and Louis went on smoking his cigarette. The conversation appeared to have died.
A few beats had passed, punctuated only by the now-awkward silence of the four vampires and the laughter of the mortals in the bar. Claudia peeked out one of the big paned glass windows, the streaky moonlight and the city outside. “I’m going hunting. You coming, Lou?”
Blood, spilling, pouring, a blade in his hand cutting through stained flesh, the feeling of falling, city lights beneath him, Claudia with red clotting her hair, her voice yelling for him, shrill and injured-
“Lou?” That steady hand on his shoulder again. He opened his eyes to what should have been Claudia’s expectant face. All he could see was Lestat, coughing and spluttering with red gushing from everywhere Louis’ eyes could comprehend.
“Nah, no, you go, sis,” Simple words that seemed alien to even himself.
“I’ll go with you, Claudia,” Mary smiled, bunching her dress up and gathering her little belongings before rubbing Stack on the back. “I’ll be back before you know it,” Stack nodded, his eyes not leaving Louis, who noticed his own hands were shaking a little and placed them hard on his lap to stop it.
Claudia kissed Louis’ cheek before flouncing out of the bar after Mary, chiffon and the smell of cinnamon flowing after her.
Stack leaned in closer to Louis, eyes lingering on his hands. “You alright?”
Louis shook his head once, twice. “Yeah.”
A second of silence. “Your maker. He wasn’t nobody to you, was he?”
Louis looked away, nodding slightly in affirmation of Stack’s question. He felt exposed under the other man’s piercing blue eyes. So familiar, yet so foreign…
“I understand it. Not my.. companion, if that’s what y’all call it. My brother.” Louis smiled bittersweetly.
“I had a brother too,” Stack raised an eyebrow again at Louis’ words. “Tell me about yours.”
Stack smiled back, finally. “Smoke. Only 4 hours older than me. We done everything together; war, Chicago bootleggin’, back home to the delta again. He shoulda been here with me now, not as a monster like me but a man. He with his wife and kid now. I dunno… that's what he wanted. We was each other’s everything, but now it's just me... and Mary.”
Louis was listening, but simultaneously off in his memories. He was thinking of Paul, the long years they could have spent together. If only they never went onto that roof, if Louis had got him help, if Paul had never been put in that place in Jackson, he wouldn’t’ve come out all messed up…
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Stack didn’t say anything for a little while before he came to, clapping his hands together.
“Anyways, ‘nough about me. You now, Mr du Lac. What's your story?” Louis was amused, beyond doubt, and decided not to comment on the blankness behind Stack’s dark eyes. He knew grief like an old friend.
“So, this Lestat dropped you from miles above ground?” Stack laughed incredulously and also disgustedly. “What the fuck? And then you and your sister killed him.”
Louis smirked, tipping his head down teasingly and taking a long sip of his replenished alcohol. Focusing on the burn of whiskey instead of the burn of his heart, thinking about Lestat. “Speaking of Claudia, it's been a little while. Should I be worried?”
Stack leaned ever closer to Louis. “Not if you trust us. Do ya?”
Louis feigned thinking hard for a second. “Got a question for you, ‘fore I answer that. You know about my relationship with a man now. What’d you think of that?”
Stack looked him in the eyes before laughing, loud and so addictive, Louis couldn't help laughing back. Stack lowered his voice when replying. “I’ve been with men before, but Mary’s my forever. Or it feels like that now at least.” Louis grinned at him, taking another sip of his alcohol but only truly drinking in Stack. The joy, however feeble, in his voice, the flash of the light catching on his grills, and the way his fingers played with his glass.
“Enchanted to know. Just wondering where my sister is at now- I want to sit and read a full book before we leave this city, too. That’s my goal.” Stack hums, gulping and finishing his drink.
“We can go find them, if you fancy a walk?”
Chicago was very different from New Orleans in its surroundings and the people. Of course, Louis was somewhat biased. The last time he was truly around people like he used to be was before Claudia was even around. Maybe it was the depression or the threat of war looming over the minds of every American. Inching ever closer like a thunderstorm over a hill. Watching the lightning flash and the rain batter, knowing soon it’d be upon you also.
Louis and Claudia wouldn't be in the New World long enough to see it, if everything went to plan. They'd be in Romania, Italy, France and the likes, on a ‘trail of discovery and adventure’ as Claudia had once pitched the idea as, many months ago…
They stumbled upon Claudia and Mary on a street bench a little ways off from the bar they came from, a buzzing lamp with Edison bulbs lit above them, illuminating practically nothing except the complete lack of blood coating their clothes and skin.
“Clean kill.” Stack whistled beside Louis, startling the two women before a pleased grin settled on both of their mouths. Mary rose to meet the men, kissing Stack boldly on the cheek, and Claudia watched amusedly before taking her place beside Louis.
“We gotta get on home, lil waif.” Claudia lightheartedly punched him in the arm before groaning.
“But why? Let me stay out a little, come on!” She could see the twinkle in Louis’ eye, which meant he drank and smoked his fair share of alcohol and nicotine and was feeling loose and light, the best times for negotiation on her part.
“Come to ours!” Mary offered, grinning and revealing her sharp canines in a show of vampirical camaraderie. “And maybe you can teach us some of your tricks.”
Stack and Mary’s place was small but homely. Considering they had been staying there for all of 8 years, it was clearly lived-in, just like the house on Rue Royal. The smell of Mary’s jasmine perfume settling gently above Stack’s musk, combined with the furniture- some new, some old, some undoubtedly stolen- made the house a home.
Lamps of different sizes and designs were scattered throughout the space, with dark rugs and a soft-looking sofa against the wall. A bookshelf and fireplace against one wall, and a few dark wood doors leading to other parts of the house. It was nothing but cosy.
“Make yourselves comfortable!” Mary offered, and so they did. They got to talking again, and Louis learnt that Mary and Claudia got to know each other very well in the time they went out hunting. He also caught himself absentmindedly, embarrassingly gazing at Stack every so often, quickly glancing away every time he noticed, so he couldn’t see the other man’s wide smirk, feeling his skin go hot.
He taught Stack and Mary to read minds, as best he could, to the pure delight of both of them, as evidenced by Mary’s excited clapping and Stack’s loud whooping once they figured it out.
“ Listen to somebody, but strip away all you hear on the surface. Beyond their heartbeat and their lungs working. You’ll get it. ”
The New Orleans vampires learnt more about Stack’s twin, Smoke, his wife Annie, and his cousin Sammie, as well as the nature of their turning in hushed, guilty tones. Mary was most quiet, which Stack confirmed with a look and a nudge in Louis’ head that she felt herself entirely responsible for the whole thing.
“Last I seen, Sammie’s here in Chicago too. Got his blues career, tryin’ to open a bar, and whatnot. Smoke made me swear not to get too close.”
Claudia was very curious about Sammie and Blues music in a way Louis had never seen her before. He wasn’t sure of the depth of what she experienced the years away from home, but he knew she was lonely. Vampires usually were, and it didn't help that she was so young, still.
The Mississippi vampires learnt about Paul and Grace and an abridged history of their time with Lestat. Stack had heard some of it at the bar, but Mary was absolutely outraged. “If Annie were here, I swear to the Lord we’d-” was all they heard before she quickly excused herself to the kitchen to calm herself and control her fangs.
Stack was amused by Mary’s ranting, but he resonated in some way. “Seems y'all got him real good, but if he ever somehow comes back to life again.. well…”
Claudia laughed kindly. “We did that, huh? But he’s old as coal Stack, and insane, so it's probably not a good idea anyway. We just got sick of his French ass, or maybe that was only me .” The last statement was directed toward Louis, who looked away remorsefully to where Mary was reentering the room with something in her hand.
She placed it down on the small table next to the sofa, and put it on. It was a record. “This here’s Sammie’s record. He’s excellent, just listen.”
Sammie’s voice was all that Mary and Stack had said it was, beautiful and melodic and soulful. Claudia swayed her head and tapped her foot to the beat, and Louis was happy to see her happy.
It was late morning twilight when they finally got to the motel they were staying at, Claudia yawning almost nonstop before her head hit the softness inside her coffin. Louis clambered into his, closing the lid but not fully, expecting Claudia to climb inside after only a small amount of time, as she had been doing ever since they left New Orleans.
All he received was a small whisper from his sister, who was also his daughter in every way that mattered. “Tonight was real good, Daddy Lou. Thanks for coming with me.”
Louis smiled to himself, impossibly giddy, hearing her happy. “Of course, Clau. Get some sleep now. We have a long way to travel tomorrow.”