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Some, of the oldest oaks of New Orleans lay within the bounds ofthis area, and a lovely lagoon, long, serpentine, seemingly endless,wound under a picturesque bridge in the heart of it.
I found them there, the two vampires communing with oneanother in dense darkness, far from the beaten path. David was as Iexpected, his usual properly attired self.
But the sight of the other astonished me.
This was Armand.
He sat on the stone park bench, boylike, casual, with one kneecrooked, looking up at me with the predictable innocence, dusty allover, naturally, hair a long, tangled mess of auburn curls.
Dressed in heavy denim garments, tight pants, and a zipperedjacket, he surely passed for human, a street vagabond maybe, thoughhis face was now parchment white, and even smoother than it hadbeen when last we met.
In a way, he made me think of a child doll, with brilliant faintlyred-brown glass eyes梐 doll that had been found in an attic. Iwanted to polish him with kisses, clean him up, make him even moreradiant than he was.
"That's what you always want," he said softly. His voiceshocked me. If he had any French or Italian accent left, I couldn'thear it. His tone was melancholy and had no meanness in it at all.
"When you found me under Les Innocents," he said, "you wantedto bathe me with perfume and dress me in velvet with greatembroidered sleeves.""Yes," I said, "and comb your hair, your beautiful russet hair."My tone was angry. "You look good to me, you damnable little devil,good to embrace and good to love."We eyed each other for a moment. And then he surprised me,rising and coming towards me just as I moved to take him in my arms.
His gesture wasn't tentative, but it was extremely gentle. I could havebacked away. I didn't. We held each other tight for a moment. Thecold embracing the cold. The hard embracing the hard.
"Cherub child," I said. I did a bold thing, maybe even a defiantthing. I reached out and mussed his snaggled curls.
He is smaller than me physically, but he didn't seem to mind thisgesture.
In fact, he smiled, shook his head, and reclaimed his hair with afew casual strokes of his hand. His cheeks went apple-perfectsuddenly, and his mouth softened, and then he lifted his right fist, andteasingly struck me hard on the chest.
Really hard. Show-off. Now it was my turn to smile and I did.
"I can't remember anything bad between us," I said.
"You will," he responded. "And so will I. But what does it matterwhat we remember?""Yes," I said, "we're both still here."He laughed outright, though it was very low, and he shook hishead, flashing a glance on David that implied they knew each othervery well, maybe too well. I didn't like it that they knew each other atall. David was my David, and Armand was my Armand.
I sat down on the bench.
"So David's told you the whole story," I said, glancing up atArmand and then over at David.
David gave a negative shake of the head.
"Not without your permission, Brat Prince," David said, a littledisdainfully. "I would never have taken the liberty. But the only thingthat's brought Armand here is worry for you.""Is that so?" I said. I raised my eyebrows. "Well?""You know damned good and well it is," said Armand. His wholeposture was casual; he'd learned, beating about the world, I guess. Hedidn't look so much like a church ornament anymore. He had hishands in his pockets. Little tough guy.
"You're looking for trouble again," he went on, in the same slowmanner, without anger or meanness. "The whole wide world isn'tenough for you and never will be. This time I thought I'd try to speakto you before the wheel turns.""Aren't you the most thoughtful of guardian angels?" I saidsarcastically.
"Yes, I am," he said without so much as blinking. "So what areyou doing, want to let me know?
"Come, I want to go deeper into the park," I said, and they bothfollowed me as we walked at a mortal pace into a thicket of the oldestoaks, where the grass was high and neglected, and not even the mostdesperate homeless heart would seek to rest.
We made our own small clearing, among the volcanic black rootsand rather cool winter earth. The breeze from the nearby lake wasbrisk and clean, and for a moment there seemed little scent of NewOrleans, of any city; we three were together, and Armand askedagain: "Will you tell me what you're doing?" He bent close to me,and suddenly kissed me, in a manner that seemed entirely childlikeand also a bit European. "You're in deep trouble. Come on.
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