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Awakenings
I stood outside St.Elizabeth's playing sentry for those inside. I was to make sure no mortal intruded upon the secret party within. Not that any man or woman with half a brain would dare approach this place.
I heard the door open behind me and I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Armand," said a female voice, "you can come inside at any moment. This guard business is quite uneccessary."
"I know," I said, turning to face her. "I just want to make sure that things are safe."
"Alright," she said with a smile. "But just be careful. Dawn is scarcely an hour away."
"Pandora," I said, looking her in the eye, "why is it that you worry about me so much?"
"I don't know," she confessed. "I guess I have a few lingering maternal instincts."
"You?" I asked. "Surely not."
She turned to go back inside. Before she closed the door behind her I said, "If it makes you feel any better, I'll be in in a minute."
She nodded and closed the door.
The truth was, I couldn't bear to see Lestat the way he had once again become. He had gone into one of his torpors, and this time it seemed that it would be more difficult to awaken him.
I kept thinking. I had figured at first that we could rouse him with music. It had worked once before, so why didn't it work again? Maybe this time around, it would take more than a little music.
A voice wriggled its way into my thoughts. It seemed that it was speaking to me. I snapped to.
"Excuse me, sir, but is this St. Elizabeth's?"
I looked in front of me. There stood a girl, staring expectantly up at me. She was young, painfully young. But there was something more to this porcelain doll of a girl. She had long, golden curls that hung around either side of her face that she kept swiping at with her hand as if they annoyed her. She had sapphire blue eyes, that burned with an inner fire that was fueled by something that I couldn't place. She was fairly tall, but her body was not the willowy sort that usually came with the height.
She repeated her question, a little impatiently this time. "Is this St. Elizabeth's?"
I answered slowly, "Yes, it is. What is your business here?"
"My business is my own, thank you," she said defensively.
"Alright...then might I ask what your name is?"
"My name is Rhiannon, but do not call me by that name. I hate it. Just call me Rhia," she answered smartly.
"Okay then, Rhia," I said. "My name is..." I stopped. I couldn't tell her my name.
"Armand," she finished impatiently.
I was shocked. "How do you know that?" I blurted.
"You tend to leave your thoughts unguarded when in the presence of a mortal. You need to be more careful, mon amie."
Ah, so she knows French, I thought.
"I only know a little," she admitted.
"Well, since you know who I am, and undoubtedly what I am, I think it is safe to tell me why you are here."
"I suppose so," she said slowly. She took a deep breath. "I'm here to see Lestat."
Another shock. But I didn't feel like asking how she knew about him. No doubt she had read a few of his books.
"Can I go in?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes," I said after a moment of thought. "Come on."
I opened the door. I went in first, not sure if she would follow me. But after a second, I heard her steady footfalls on the dusty floor.
There lay Lestat in the middle of the sanctuary. He was the same as he was the last time I saw him: laying on his side with one hand resting on the floor, his violet eyes open and staring blankly into space.
I stopped, but Rhia walked right past me. She was headed straight for Lestat.
I opened my mouth to tell her to stop, but decided against it. If she wanted to risk her life, fine then. I would let her do it.
She came within three feet of Lestat. Her pace slowed. She continued walking toward him, but more carefully. When he made no move, she sped up again.
When she finally reached him, she knelt on the floor beside him. He still didn't move. Then, she pulled out a small handbag that I hadn't noticed before.
Then she did the unthinkable.
From the handbag she produced a comb, with which she began untangling Lestat's hair. Remarkably, he still didn't move. It wasn't often that he let just anyone approach him. I remembered a time when foolish fledglings had come to St. Elizabeth's for his powerful blood. I let them try. Lestat had destroyed them before they could take a drop.
She continued combing his hair, removing the knots gently and carefully. Soon after, Lestat's hair began to shine again like normal.
She replaced the comb with a handkerchief, and started to remove the dust from the velvet waistcoat he was wearing. Then she moved up to his face, polishing the eyes, nose, cheeks, and finally the well-shaped lips, lingering there for a split second, then moving on.
She proceeded to get rid of the dust, until finally Lestat was no longer the dusty statue he had been before Rhia had come. He looked as though he would spring up at any moment and resume his position as the Brat Prince among us. His skin had the eerie luster it had always had, though it had not been visible through the thin film of dust.
She sat back a moment, as if admiring her work. She sat thinking some more, then she bent toward Lestat and began whispering hurriedly in his ear. It sounded like French.
Louis was at my side suddenly. "Get away from him, mortal!" he spat.
Rhia looked up at him and said vehemently "You! Taisaiz vouz!"
I was taken aback. I knew there was something more to this girl. Not everyone goes around telling vampires to shut up.
Louis was quiet. He stepped back, and let Rhia continue her work.
She resumed her incoherent whispering. There was still no response from Lestat. She sat back again, staring absently for a length of time.
Then she went over to Lestat and lie down behind him, drawing him close. Burying her face in his now-clean hair, she began to cry, her heart-rending sobs echoing throughout the darkened sanctuary.
All this time she had acted so adult. Her manner, her gestures, her colloquialisms...they had all been far beyond her age. Now, as she cried bitterly and with utter abandon, she truly seemed the child that she was supposed to be.
She finished crying within the next ten minutes, but she still lay there. She didn't move at all. None of us were sure what to do.
We had to get out of St. Elizabeth's. The sun was coming. I could feel it on the horizon.
We all left quietly, leaving Rhia to do whatever it was that she meant to do. She still didn't stir as she heard us leaving the building.
The next night we all returned to St. Elizabeth's. She was still there. I could feel her weakening from lack of nourishment. Pandora, kneeling down beside her, offered to find her some food. Rhia didn't speak, merely shook her head at the gently spoken question.
She lay there for another day. The night after the first we all came back to find her barely breathing. We had to get her some food.
I went up to her this time. I bent down and said, "Rhia, you need food. You're wasting away over nothing. He won't wake up, at least until he thinks the time is right."
She didn't respond. Her breath halted. It stayed that way for ten seconds...twenty seconds...twenty-five...
I straightened up immediately. "She's not breathing! What do we do?"
Louis spoke, but not with hatred in his voice. "We cannot interfere. She's beyond all help now. Besides, why is it that she's so important? Just one more mortal that you've seen die."
The question provoked a thought. Why was she so important to me? I didn't know.
Then I heard a noise, coming from the direction of Lestat and Rhia. It sounded like a groan, like someone straining to use muscles that have lain dormant for a very long period of time.
It was Lestat, sitting up and gingerly removing Rhia's hand. When he was fully upright, he pulled Rhia's head into his lap. Muttering furiously, he bit his wrist and made it bleed. He positioned it over Rhia's open mouth, and let the sparkling droplets fall into it.
After the first few drops, Rhia stirred. She opened her eyes and looked at Lestat. She said softly "Oh," then went back to sleep.
After she was revived by Lestat's blood, I went out to a nearby cafe and got her some food. As soon as I brought it to her, she wolfed it down ravenously. She also drank a good deal of water, of which I brought a gallon.
She was lying in a bed that we found when I came to check on her. She sat up quickly as soon as she heard my footsteps.
I sat down in a chair next to the bed. She smoothed the thin coverlet and cleared her throat to speak.
"Thank you, Armand."
I smiled and said, "You're welcome. Think nothing of it."
She sat, silent, for a moment or two. Then she asked "Where's-"
"Lestat?" I finished for her. "Oh, he's off getting a meal. He hasn't fed in years, after all."
"True," she admitted softly.
She was quiet for a second, then asked "Armand, why did he save me? He could have just let me die. Like Louis said: Just another mortal that he's seen die."
"I don't know, Rhia," I answered. "Maybe he just felt a need to save you. You can ask him later."
I heard footsteps in the hallway. "Speak of the devil," I said mischeivously.
Lestat walked into the room. I heard Rhia draw in a breath. It was the first time she had seen him since he woke up.
He opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again, as if he didn't know what do say. Lestat, the impetuous one, the imprudent one, had nothing to say. Amazing.
Finally he spoke. "Thank you," he said to Rhia. "I can't really think of anything else to say. So that's all I'll say, plain and simple."
She said "You're welcome. Any time."
"I never found out your name. What is it?"
She gave him the same answer she gave me. "My name is Rhiannon, but don't call me that. I hate it. Just call me Rhia."
"Rhia..." he said slowly, as if savoring the name.
We all sat in silence for a while. Both Rhia and Lestat were staring intently at each other, wondering what it was that the other was hiding.
Lestat re-broke the ice. "Rhia, why exactly did you help me? I think that the world would have been perfectly alright if you had left me alone."
She thought for a moment. "Well, do you want the truth? I wanted to meet you, prove that you were real. I read your books and...I..." Her voice trailed off into space.
"Whatever your reasons, I thank you. Sometimes...things become a little difficult for me. This is my escape," Lestat told her.
Rhia's eyebrows drew together. "Lestat, what goes on inside of your head when you do as you just did? I-I tried to read your mind, and I apologize for that, but all I sensed was turbulence, a need to settle things, and...loneliness. Tell me. I want to know what I saved you from."
For the first time Lestat spoke about his experiences as a living statue. "You want to know? Here's the short version: it's hell. It's like a level of hell made especially for me. I relive all of the times I would like to forget...when Claudia betrayed me, when I went with Memnoch, when Akasha was killed. Believe it or not, I loved her. I missed her so much right after it happened. When I become lifeless that way, it's like being caught in a whirlwind. Being tossed around in a tempest. That's what it's like."
He was silent afterwards. I could see that he was reliving painful memories. Rhia, being the sweet thing that she was, got out of her bed and shakily walked over to Lestat. When she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around Lestat, hugging him tightly. To my surprise, he did the same to her. They stood that way, the two blonde beauties, the mortal and immortal, for a long while. Then Rhia finally drew away and looked into Lestat's face.
She sighed and said "I really should tell you more about myself. I've given you nothing but my name."
Rhia pulled out of Lestat's grasp, he reluctantly letting her go. She sat back down on her bed and breathed a deep breath.
"Alright," she began. "Here's my story."
I was born in Italy on May 16, 1989. My mother and father were constantly moving, so I didn't live there long. Mt mother's family had always lived in Italy, in Venice. Their line went all the way back to the Renaissance. Nobody knows who the line got started by exactly, but we have always known that it was an accident.
The family legend goes that our many-many-times-great-grandmother did not intend to get pregnant with our forbear. It had been said that she did not want it, but got it anyway. The father of our line was always assumed to be a careless boy, green in the ways of the world and not aware of any sort of consequences. Nobody got the chance to ask who the, uh, co-founder was because shortly after our many-times-great-grandmother was born, her mother disappeared.
Nobody knew what became of her.
The only hint of her fate comes through visions that the women of our family receive. I've had them too. I've seen a fire...a raging fire, spreading throughout a city that is unknown to me. Also, I remember seeing a man, a tall, pale man with shoulder-length blonde hair talking to a woman. The woman is holding a baby, and she looks frightened. I remember her so vividly because her blonde hair had strands of pearls braided into it. Both the man and the women are wearing clothes that were...old-fashioned, belonging to a period of time that I could not place.
Other than that, we know nothing of our origins.
My immeditate family is somewhat less than respectable. As of this moment, my parents are both miserable drunks, living in a run-down house that I pay for in the French Quarter. I am allowed to have a part-time job only, since I'm just fourteen. It barely keeps us alive.
We scrape by. Most of the money that I earn is wasted on booze. They take away my money almost as soon as I get it. College is out of the question, and so is school. I have to work for my family.
I remember a time when my parents were both revered people in the legal world. They were both lawyers, graduating from Harvard after finishing high school.
Yes...countless people would ask them for help with their cases. They were considered the authority on law.
Things were happy then. I was free to be a child...to play, to dance, to do what I wanted for once.
Then they got into debt, thousands of dollars in debt. They worked at first, then they just stopped trying. They began to drink. Things around our house were falling apart. It was up to me to fix things.
I applied for a job at many different local cafes, each of them turning me down because of my age.
Until finally I came to a little restaurant called Marie Laveau's. Well, it wasn't very little and it wasn't really a restaurant. It was fairly good-sized, and a bar.
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