The Vampire Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles 2)

"You wanted me to," he answered. Flash of innocent confusion. He gave a slow shrug of the shoulders.

Everything he did was magnetizing me just the way it had over a century ago. Fingers so long and delicate, yet hands so strong.

"You let me see you and you let me follow you," he said. "You drove up and down Divisadero Street looking for me. "

"And you were still there?"

"The safest place in the world for me," he said. "I never left it. They came looking for me and they didn't find me and then they went away. And now I move among them whenever I want and they don't know me. They never knew what I looked like, really. "

"And they'd try to destroy you if they knew," I said.

"Yes," he answered. "But they've been trying to do that since the Theater of the Vampires and the things that happened there. Of course Interview with the Vampire gave them some new reasons. And they do need reasons to play their little games. They need the impetus, the excitement. They feed upon it like blood. " His voice sounded labored for a second.

He took a deep breath. Hard to talk about all this. I wanted to put my arms around him again but I didn't.

"But at the moment," he said, "I think you are the one that they want to destroy. And they do know what you look like. " Little smile. "Everybody knows now what you look like. Monsieur Le Rock Star. "

He let his smile broaden. But the voice was polite and low as it had always been. And the face suffused with feeling. There had been not the slightest change there yet. Maybe there never would be.

I slipped my arm around his shoulder and we walked together away from the lights of the house. We walked past the great gray hulk of the copter and into the dry sunbaked field and towards the hills.

I think to be this happy is to be miserable, to feel this much satisfaction is to burn.

"Are you going to go through with it?" he asked. "The concert tomorrow night?"

Danger to us all. Had it been a warning or a threat?

"Yes, of course," I said. "What in hell could stop me from it?"

"I would like to stop you," he answered. "I would have come sooner if I could. I spotted you a week ago, then lost you. "

"And why do you want to stop me?"

"You know why," he said. "I want to talk to you. " So simple, the words, and yet they had such meaning.

"There'll be time after," I answered. "'Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. ' Nothing is going to happen. You'll see. " I kept glancing at him and away from him, as if his green eyes were hurting me. In modern parlance he was a laser beam. Deadly and delicate he seemed. His victims had always loved him.

And I had always loved him, hadn't I, no matter what happened, and how strong could love grow if you had eternity to nourish it, and it took only these few moments in time to renew its momentum, its heat?

"How can you be sure of that, Lestat?" he asked. Intimate his speaking my name. And I had not brought myself to say Louis in that same natural way.

We were walking slowly now, without direction, and his arm was around me loosely as mine was around him.

"I have a battalion of mortals guarding us," I said. "There'll be bodyguards on the copter and in the limousine with my mortals. I'll travel alone from the airport in t

he Porsche so I can more easily defend myself, but we'll have a veritable motorcade. And just what can a handful of hateful twentieth century fledglings do anyway? These idiot creatures use the telephone for their threats. "

"There are more than a handful," he said. "But what about Marius? Your enemies out there are debating it, whether the story of Marius was true, whether Those Who Must Be Kept exist or not-"

"Naturally, and you, did you believe it?"

"Yes, as soon as I read it," he said. And there passed between us a moment of silence, in which perhaps we were both remembering the questing immortal of long ago who had asked me over and over, where did it begin?

Too much pain to be reinvoked. It was like taking pictures from the attic, cleaning away the dust and finding the colors still vibrant. And the pictures should have been portraits of dead ancestors and they were pictures of us.

I made some little nervous mortal gesture, raked my hair back off my forehead, tried to feel the cool of the breeze.

"What makes you so confident," he asked, "that Marius won't end this experiment as soon as you step on the stage tomorrow night?"