(note: For the natural conclusion of Jackie's narrative, check his oneshot in "Give Me That Body". I didn't want to double-dip, but it provides good insight into both Jackie's complicated state of mind and his relationship with Laurent toward the end of the latter's life.)

A crow came for Jackie, saying "Hush, hush", took him by the hands. By my heart, they look so alike, because of the look on their faces, which is wide-eyed and too lucid. A vampire is better off with its eyes closed and unknowing. Quinn leaned over to consult with Leis a moment before helping Jackie up from the couch. I closed my eyes and then opened them, and found Quinn looking at me. "Caw," he said, icily.

"What did he call you when he thought you couldn't hear?" Jackie whispered.

"Crow," Quinn said, and steadied him.

"They are all alike, aren't they? Cat, fox, crow. What should we do about it?"

"Sh," Quinn told him. "Unbutton your collar. You'll choke. Come and I'll bleed you."

Jackie, tall, dark-featured, with his brown hair kissing his collar, measured me with his gaze a moment. 

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Understood. Now have you gotten from me what you wanted?" he asked. 

"Yes. It will all be written."

He nodded without meeting my eyes, and I couldn't imagine this dignified character screaming, sweating, cold. He seemed frail and young, wavering, but at the time a pillar of iron, straight-backed and intelligent in his smart white shirt. 

"How long will you stay?" 

"Only a day or so," I told him.

"Then we won't see each other," he said, and extended a shivering hand for me to take.

I took it, fine fingers, nails that had been perfectly trimmed, clean and dry. On his left hand there was a gold ring, thin and wide. On the inside of it, I knew, there was an etched crab of Cancer. I knew it to be Laurent's ring, one of his favorite pieces. 

"Have a good evening," he said.

"And you, darling."

After the two of them had gone, Leis remained on the couch and relaxed his shoulders, slumped down. I went through my papers and turned off the recorder, keeping to myself and enjoying the quiet atmosphere. In their house there are no refrigerators, no ceiling fans turning. At a certain time of night in the winter when no central air is needed, even the circuit breaker is thrown so that there is not a single whisper of electronic humming. 

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked.

Leis opened his eyes lazily.

"Jackie seems to blame you," I said, in French, so that he wouldn't misunderstand me.

The blue eyes shut again, and Leis rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He's right to blame me. He suspects that Laurent and I talked about it and we did. But I didn't know that he was going to do it then. Look at me, like they say, I am too stupid for intrigue. Croasse croasse." Caw caw.

"Did he feel guilty?"

"No. And in any case, what did it matter? Jackie fled for England, and we didn't hear from him for thirty years. At this moment, we are not talking about it, as ever. He can barely remember it and I don't know what word is the knife that would twist in the wound."

"Are you annoyed with me? You sound annoyed."

"I am a little. Should I hide it? We have spent some time together in this past year. May I be annoyed?"

I closed my notebook and set it aside. "I have people who love me, too," I said.

"I heard that you had a confrontation with Nicky in Boston. How is he seeming, well?"

"He tied me to the balcony railing and kept me prisoner for three days. He bit me and forced me to drink water. You're going to try to tell me this is all a game for Nicky. That's what Laurent used to say, something to keep him occupied, stalking us, torturing us."

"Do you think that's true?" Leis asked, spreading his long body out on the couch, head turned to me, fingers limp by his mouth.

"No I don't. I think Nicky is as mad as anyone, and that he would be happier if he could set the entire world on fire. I think that he wanted to kill Miou because he was jealous of Laurent's affection for Jackie, and I think that Laurent's being dead has only made things like that worse. If Dasius weren't protecting Nicky it would be a pheasant hunt, with Leechtin looking for him."

"What does Leechtin care about Dasius?"

"Beats me. God knows with Leechtin. Who knows? Leechtin never lets on, but I suspect that he only talked to me because he knew Dasius wanted it. He certainly doesn't care about me a single wit."

"So why are you talking to me?" 

"Because I'm tired and I have a big stupid mouth."

"You and me are stupid. That's why we can't be friends. The weight of our idiocy would punch a sucking hole in the universe." Leis folded his hands over his chest and made an attitude of sleep.

"Did you just make an astronomy joke?"

"No I'm too stupid to make an astronomy joke."

"Did I offend you?" I asked. "You look like Dracula with your arms crossed like that. Shall I help you hang upside down?"

"I'm prettier than Dracula. Stop talking or you'll incriminate yourself. I have the ear of wolves."

"Stop acting stupid."

"Stop acting stupid," fini de jouer, he mouthed silently, eyes closed lightly. 

"Stop it."

"Boohoo, arretez! Assez!" 

"You're crazy."

"And I'm crazy," he whispered, and growled quietly like a lion. "Cu cu, faites attention." Be careful.

"I'm going to Boston tomorrow again. I loathe it."

"Pray God," he moaned. "For what reason? Stay down here a bit so I can play with you. I miss playing. The crows are so serious."

"To talk to Marcellus. You know him. Laurent's third child."

"Of course I know him. Putain de sale pute."

"Wow. I'm surprised at you. That's extraordinarily filthy."

"When Laurent was alive that was Marcellus's private name."

"Catchy."

"But what could he tell you?" Leis asked. 

"About Bellamy."

"Don't bother. I could tell you about all of that. I'm comfortable with you now."

"I may ask you. Are you going to bed? I'll help you retire."

"Perhaps we will have a nice walk to take the air. We must keep time until Jackie is to bed. Then things will be peaceful."

Of course I remember how Marcellus was when he was alive, though I did not often encounter him in those years. I took Leis' arm and he held my other hand. While we walked I admired his body soberly, the long lines and taut slimness that fascinated Laurent, a product of famine and tireless, mad, tubercular wandering. I think of how he must have looked to Dasius, and can imagine it easily, the sunken, searching eyes and white lips, the rattle of death in the throat. His body warmed me in the winter cold.

He asked me if it was true if Ikuko still lived at Leechtin's, because he didn't know. I ignored his feigned ignorance, because of course Leis has met Cuca many times. But one can never really tell if Leis is pretending at ignorance, or fading away into arsenic-induced delirium. I guessed the latter, from the tone of his voice.

"Cuca is the one who called Jackie in England. Cuca is the reason Jackie is here."

"Oh I see. You know, we have to keep them apart," Leis said, sounding a little lost, a little confused. "I'm afraid that if they come together, Jackie will kill him."

"I've gathered that."

"But you see, Nataniellus has asked me to come there, I don't know why, and he is saying that it would be good for Jackie to come."

"You want me to lure Cuca out of the house."

"Only if you can do it."

"I can't have him in Amsterdam. Matty is no friend of the living."

Leis stopped then, eyes hazy and breathing clouds of the cold air.  I watched, fascinated. "What should we do?" he asked, dewy-eyed, lost little kitten. "Do you not see why we should not advance friendliness to the living? It is too many problems. We are going in March, can't you do anything?"

"Don't cry. That's long enough to work something out."

He remained still a moment longer and took my arm again. "Thank you, doctor. We will go back in again. The screaming has stopped."

I whispered, "Leis, I didn't hear screaming."

And he whispered back, as if I were too stupid for regard, "Well you talk too much to be able to listen correctly."

That man is absolutely everything. Of course, he had been hearing it in his head. 

The next day I went on the train back north, and Marcellus greeted me at Dasius's rococo flat. 

"Good God," I told him, in greeting. "Your legs are as long as all of me. I had forgotten how handsome you are."

He regarded me a moment, his hand still half-extended for me to take. "No you didn't," he said quietly, with none of the defiance I had expected. "No one forgets that. That's the reason I'm still alive."

"You may be right about that."

"No I know I'm right about that," he said, gesturing with his finger. "And because I look like him, like Laurent. Is that the entire matter? He's not here, Dasius isn't. He said he would be far too busy to entertain you, and so I am a little put out and angry. No need to excuse me. I know how to get revenge."

So I knew that he would be frank, who is in a position to be terribly terribly frank, and Dasius's steel apartment door shut firmly behind me.