Chapter Text
Storyville had to be his favourite city yet. Two centuries of European coastlines, countrysides and high societies can wear a vampire down and Storyville could not be more different. Of course, it helped that his family- or whatever he and the father-daughter duo living in his house were to each other – were in the city but that wasn't all he loved. Nowhere was quite as fun, quite as alive, quite as beautiful. After arguments like their last one, there was plenty indulgence to partake in before it was settled.
Lestat had planned to do as he said, honestly. He was going to go out, find a victim, flirt a little and live it up like the bachelor uncle everyone was so determined to see him as. Why shouldn’t he, after all? It’s not like Claudia saw him as a father, or Louis as a co-parent or husband. No, he was just Uncle Les and should start acting like it.
But a trail of blood like that was a red string of fate that only led to one place. Another body just dumped by the reckless, teenage nightmare he turned could be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Who could blame him for protecting his own interests? He wanted to stay in Storyville.
As suspected, the scarlet trail led him down an alley directly to Claudia, ironically dressed in pale pink with blood coating her fangs. She stood above a victim. It looked male, childlike- surely no older than Claudia’s own body- and like the life it once had was a comfortable one. Another sign of her foolishness; a boy like this died and people came looking but someone like him or Claudia before they were turned, impoverished and abused, no one would bat an eye.
“Well, this one’s awfully young, Claudia!”
“Uncle Les!” Lestat should have ignored the blood. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just having a nice midnight stroll when I noticed some spillage from your hunt. I thought, only Claudia, she-demon that she is, could have caused that so I thought I would come help with the body.”
“I don’t want your help. And since when do you go for midnight strolls?”
“Since now,” Lestat huffed. “And considering we still have no idea where you’ve left the past few bodies, I would rather this one come home.” He stopped closer and observed the corpse. Upon closer inspection, Lestat felt he had seen this boy and his green eyes before but where, he could not say. A finger had also been freshly sliced from its hand. “Claudia, why is this body missing a finger?”
“How should I know? I found him like that!”
“There’s no blood on him anywhere but his neck and his hand doesn’t seem to have lost much blood, so it was taken after he died. So come on,” Lestat held out his hand, “pass it over.” Claudia stayed silent and stared everywhere but Lestat. “Or not. Let’s just go home. Your father will be waiting.”
The two walked down alleys and in the shadows with the corpse hauled over Lestat’s shoulders until they reached Rue Royale. With the gate securely locked, Lestat threw the boy into the incinerator and watched as the flames took it away.
“You gonna make me watch this one too?” asked Claudia bitterly.
“I’d rather you just go inside and go to coffin but by all means, stay. It’s up to you.” More silence. Lestat hated silence; it reminded him of time spent alone, time spent underground, time spent wishing his mother saw him even just a little bit.
“Why ain’t you more upset? Shouldn’t you be screaming and cussing like you normally do?” He turned to Claudia and smiled. For a moment, he could forget her psychopathic tendencies, embrace them even. He could forget all the trouble she threatened to bring to his doorstep. Bloodstains were smeared across her face and her thick curls were kept out of her eyes with an assortment of fancy clips he had never seen before. Her eyes were wide like a deer although she was no prey. For a moment, she was his Claudia. His daughter. Then he remembered.
“I’ve just had quite the night and I don’t want to sit here and lecture you on something we’ve already discussed. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow if I have it in me. Then again, I should probably just let Louis handle it.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Am I ever normal?”
“No one of us are, I suppose. Still, you’re being weirder tonight.” They stood there in front of the fire together and pretended like it was fine.