Nicolas de Lenfent

The nights grow warmer, and I find myself wandering the streets. It's too soon for tourists. The other supernaturals are still too afraid of me, it seems. I find myself longing for the kitten witch and Mal, my demon companion. Where are they now, I wonder?

Safe, I hope.

riches and daring to play the role of gods themselves.

after, as pink as if he still were mortal. "Yes. Be my teacher. Show me everything! And let us be the bonded way we were meant to always be…"

For a moment, he imagined sleeping in Khaymen's arms under the tall statues of the Egyptian gods, layered in their-

he could give that same love and support to Khaymen now.

"I will stay with you," he whispered when Khaymen asked. Nicolas drew a shivered breath as the other's lips brushed his skin. He'd drank enough blood that it surged southward, hardening his arousal in seconds. A blush followed quickly -

sea that had once almost claimed him. Only escaping the life of his immortal self and finding companions who were not of the immortal world had saved him. His mortals and demons friends who had given him strength in his darkest moments were the only reason he stood there now. And he hoped -

now than usual. "It's the curse of our kind, love. Because we still have the passions of our mortal selves, but time is cruel. We never forget anything. Every sin ever committed hangs over us until one day it all just seems too much to bear."

Oh, how he knew that weight. The dark endless -

"Do not feel ashamed, Khayman. Even the youngest of our kind have moments of doubt, and you have existed long enough to brave countless losses and tragedies." Nicolas' brown eyes searched his companion's as they looked upward. He could see the pain behind them—even deeper -

Lestat? Armand? Are either of you here? I know I have been unreliable in my appearances. But at least I have been well behaved. No bodies lying about.
...I had that one instance of scaring the shit out of some ghost investigators, but they deserved it.

And so, my story in some form or other will finally be given to light.

"Mm. Should be honored or terrified that I've gained the notice of the Talamasca?"

It would be acting in self-defense. Completely acceptable.

my violin for you and we can learn of one another. I promise to behave myself.

At least for a little while.

he and the rest of the Theatre poisoned my mnd with is what kept me safe from Akasha. I would be burned up with the rest of them, if I were sane. But please, don't tell Armand this. It would just go to his head.

So come. Let us dance by the moonlight. I will play -

threat, though I am none at all. I will always love Lestat, but it is as an affection. Now my only interest is somehow becoming part of this new world coven. To meet those I have read about. To find Armand and torture him in a million ways! Though maybe I should thank him. The madness-

playground.

When Lestat left to go back to France, I knew. I felt it in the minds of others. I have continued to keep an eye on him through his books, but keep my distance. At first, it was because I worried about Louis. What /would/ we say to one another? I worried he would see me as a-

the videos, the movie, read the books. I came to New Orleans, knowing if Lestat could be found, it would be there. I fell in love with the city, and lived there for many years. Not because Lestat was close, but because the city spoke to my broken heart and tortured mind, giving it a wondrous -

been to move quickly or when called. I remained hidden through the massacre of our kind. It seemed my own madness with its static of a thousand voices had protected me from Akasha's call. I had enough voices in my head, I couldn't hear hers.

Eventually I crawled out. I watched -

him right away though, and enjoyed the new world with vivacious recklessness.

Eventually I slept again. I lost fifty more years, waking when the rest of my kind did. Lestat's music called to me when his own mind and thoughts could not. I heard it as clear as the bombs, but my mood has never-

his little bloodletting ceremonies. When the war ended, I managed to pass myself off as a Roma prisoner and slipped onto a boat heading for America.

I came to the United States in 1945. A growing country, there was plenty to do and feed upon. And I knew, somehow, Lestat was there. I didn't find -

myself hauled out of my slumber by men who worshiped a little annoying man who called himself Führer. Unfortunately, Adolph knew exactly what I was, and I quickly became his favorite party secret. Kept at the Wewelsburg castle, he pulled me out of my cage (Yes, yet another cage!) for -

for as long as I could. Some, I tried to give the Dark Gift, but they never survived it. I had no idea what I was doing, and only had my own rebirth to go by.

I did this over and over until finally I felt the call of Sleep again.

When I next woke, another war had come. I found -

starvation. He would have too, but I took a liking to him. I still feel Stefen's tears on the back of my hand, his little body shivering against mine. I was a different creature then, a beast with no conscience. I stole mortals away from their lives and kept them as playthings-

littered the ground.

Somehow I ended up in Russia, I suspect because some part of me remembered Armand having been from there. The winters were terrible, the countryside where I came to rest, barren. I found a young boy, he was ten or twelve at most, his entire family had died of cold and -

of it later.

The next thing I do remember is waking to the sounds of bombs. The earth shook and I dug myself free of the stone and mud I had apparently buried myself in, and found the world at war. France, Germany, England…they were all at war and I fed well upon the dying that-

with them again. I had to remain as dead to them, as to the vampires of the theater.

Excuse. There are wide gaps in my memory and madness sometimes creeps in. I went into the deep sleep, I became someone else with no memory of things. It happens from time to time, and will explain more -

going out searching for places to hide. I knew I had to leave Paris, or my trick would be discovered. After the illusion, I left the city and journeyed home. I visited my parents once before leaving, though they never knew I was there. Even through the insanity, I knew I could never speak -

believed the act of my going into the fire or not, is no matter. I am a musician, not an actor, but the night was feverish with insanity on everyone's part, and a vampire's eyes have a hard time looking into fire. I went in. I came right back out the other side.

It took weeks of planning and -

"You died."

Over and over again, I hear this. I should know the truth, non? After all, what proof was there of my death? A letter written by Armand, telling Lestat it was so. Pardon, but Armand's word is not so great.

I never saw the letter. I was gone by then, and whether Armand-

Nicolas leans on the balcony overlooking the narrow New Orleans street as the krewe of Hermes rolls by. Lights flash, bands play, crowds beg for beads, and liquor flows.

It's not his city. Not like it is Lestat's. But he enjoys the life of it. He'd been there a week and planned to stay another.

one of the ancient tombs for the day."