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The streets were mostly empty, the night was misty and the cobblestone road was slippery, dangerous for a mortal being that stumbled unawares. I walked methodically without anywhere to go, for last night my world burnt around me.
I had no reason to walk with purpose as my centuries long holy purpose blew farther away with each gust of wind down the winding street.
A church on the opposite side of the street loomed imposingly in the darkness, its steeple casting a shadow piercing the moon light. The rose window filled with darkness, and it was comforting. The looming presence was tall, the house of the lord, where I had crept around, unbeknownst to my followers who lived in fear of holy places. I had never cut myself off from such great halls.
Most buildings were dark with windows that allowed me to peer into houses reflecting the trends of this century, and see the elaborate furnishings and maids finishing their nightly duties. Would any turn and see me in the window, looking wraithlike, I paused, no not wraithlike at all, I looked at myself in the dark window.
I stared at my reflection, almost confused. A young man with curly auburn hair, I watched as my hand moved through the curls of my hair almost as if it were a foreign object, the scent of les innocents burning still clung to my pores and hair. Large brown eyes, when had I last looked at my own reflection so intently, as if to memorize and relearn all of the scant details that made up my face. The twin points of my top lip, the slight arch of my eyebrows. I turned my face sideways and saw my dark upward pointing eyelashes that brush against the spot where my cheeks begin when I blink.
I was pulled out of my trance by the sounds of a group of young men walking side by side laughing loudly as the scent of alcohol filled my senses. I saw dark red around me. It was jarring sending a shock down my spine, I hid on the side of the house, projecting my mind to see them properly and admiring their rosy cheeks and warm hands and slapped against their knee caps as they laughed about crude topics and admitted things they would never be brave enough to utter when sober.
Their clothing was beautiful, velvet fur trimmed coats wrapped around their bodies, waistcoats with elegant embroidery and buttons with inlaid pearls, I had admired pearls once, I knew that humans had went to such lengths to retrieve them from the sea, they were precious. Their bodies were youthful and strong, a few years older than I would ever look, wavy hair pulled back with silk ribbons with a few lose strands framing their faces. Lestat would fit in amongst them. It was so easy to picture him with his head thrown back in a fit of laughter holding court, surrounded by other young men listening intently to what he said. I had male companions like this once, 280 years ago.
I walked along the alley until I arrived on another street, a rat scuttled along underfoot, and I could smell baked bread wafting from a nearby kitchen, for a well to do family to eat in the morning. I followed the scent, and it led me to a large home with a rather dramatic entrance, there were columns that held up the awning over the front door. I crawled up the brick wall to a second story balcony, where I sat overhearing pained voices. The curtains were not fully drawn, and I could see two humans, gently embracing each other.
“I cannot believe he is gone. My poor boy.” A woman sobbed.
A middle aged woman was comforted by an elderly one, her mother in law, in their minds i saw a young man with a bright smile, and brown hair pulled back, less than a year ago he had been diagnosed with tuberculosis, and for the last week they had been waiting for him to pass away, two nights ago the eldest brother of the family fetched a priest to say his last rights as the family stood around his sickbed.
The elderly woman placed a kiss on her forehead, “Charlotte, he resides with the lord now, and their is no safer place for our beloved boy.”
“He was supposed to have went off to Padua, to the university.”
I knew of that school, almost three centuries ago it was given as a promise of knowledge and a wealthy future.
There was nothing that brought mortals together like the death of a loved one. I stared up into the starry night sky, as the candles that illuminated the room were softly blown out. I watched as the woman went behind a painted screen to put on her nightgown. I heard the creak of her bed as she laid down on it, and sat still until I heard her breath even out.
I reached for the door handle, slowly turning in until the latch gave way and I stepped into the room, the house was silent at this later hour. I could smell rosewater, in a small pink glass vial on her dresser, and a long black gown was folded over the sofa. I walked silently to the bed, where she lay sleeping, and facing the other direction. Her blonde hair had little streaks of grey, not unlike Gabrielle’s.
I reached slowly, and placed my hand on her shoulder, did she want to be with her son? I could do it for her.
She awoke but her eyes were heavy and tired. I held my breath, waiting for her to scream, but a hand reached out and was placed on my forearm.
“Claude, it is very late, go to sleep.” She muttered. “Return to your bed.”
I didn’t know what to say. She thought I was her son.
Finally I said “Good night, mother.” Her head returned to the pillow once more. I leaned down and kissed her cheek.
Stepping away, I felt myself tremble, unsure of what to do so I closed the curtains covering the balcony door. And crept into the hallway, I could hear the heartbeat of other three children and the elderly woman. One door was partially opened, it was the room belonging to her dead son, Claude. I crossed the threshold, and saw a washbasin still filled with water.
In the mirror I saw a smudge of dirt across my face, my hair had a few tangles in it as well. I picked up the cloth wetting it and squeezing the excess water I began to rub it over my skin, it felt calming, across my face, neck, arms and hands. The grime of the cemetery washed off easily, I felt oddly self conscious in my old worn-out tunic and tights, no young man of this century dressed in such bygone clothing an more.
In the closet much to my surprise, I found clothing that would fit me, it seemed the boy that had owned these was the same size as me. I stripped off my tights, standing completely nude, running the wet cloth over my body one last time, I reached for a collared shirt, a pair of pants and a jacket, of deep blue velvet that would surely garner looks from passing strangers. It was obviously expensive, with its gold buttons with little lions carved into each one. I sorted through the clothes for a little while longer grabbing what I knew I’d need to blend in.
Lastly, at the back of the closet I saw a long red velvet cloak, it was in my hands before I knew what I was doing, I breathed in the scent of forest air that clung to it, I imagined Lestat’s red cloak would carry a similar air if I had it wrapped around me. I placed all of this on the bed, and walking over to the dresser I reached for a small purse of gold coins I had with me, I left it there for the family to find in the morning, in exchange for the things I took.
I used the cloak as a sack to carry everything as I crept down the wall, looking left and right as to make sure no one saw my unnatural descent into the alley.
The sun would rise less than two hours, and wandered more, aimlessly, until I walked to a dilapidated building in a poor neighbourhood. The house had little to no furniture left, thought it meant nothing to me, I had no use for such things right now. No one had lived here for along time and no one would find where I placed my coffin in the cellar and slept there during the day.
Lifting the lid, I placed the red velvet cloak on the bottom, running my hand on the soft fabric. Tears welled in my eyes. It had been so long since I had slept on a bed of crimson, but this time there were no loving arms to wrap around me.
Sighing I knew that I couldn’t wallow in this grief, in a few nights I would look for Lestat again, I could easily adore him, and wrap myself in his powerful world. I needed him, I knew it now, I was not a solitary being, for all of my immortality I had been surrounded by others. I longed for his company and companionship.
What would my Marius think of him? I would see him in less than an hour when my eyes closed with the rising sun. In long hallways painted with clouds and delicate cherubs, dark rooms, filled with loving caresses and ancient stories.
My eye lids grew heavier, as I thought of those I loved together. Where was my sweet Eleni? Alessandra, who I wished had survived. Where was Santino in this age? Had he abandoned the cause that was the reason for my abduction? I could not imagine Marius alone - if he lived that is, there had been rumours that he was not dead, and I wished desperately for them to be true. It would be terribly sad to see him without the mortals he cared for and loved the company of.
Life was irreversibly different, but I couldn’t ignore it, I was on my own for now, and I once more must be the one that survived.