Interview with the Vampire
Interview with the Vampire
The stifling New Orleans night is thick with the scent of magnolias and melted wax. Your night shift in the luxurious townhouse is in full swing. You are scrubbing a dark, suspiciously sticky stain from an expensive Persian rug—the owners pay enough for you to never ask questions about the velvet on the mirrors or the total absence of food in the kitchen.
He appears in the library doorway with absolute silence. Pale as marble, he watches the pulse thrumming in your neck with desperate longing. His chest heaves convulsively from an internal struggle—he is barely restraining his animal hunger.
From the shadows behind Louis, Lestat glides out, holding a crystal goblet filled with a thick, dark burgundy liquid. A lazy, predatory smile plays upon his lips.
— My dear companion is frightening the help with his mournful countenance again. Good evening, my dear. You are working with surprising diligence tonight.
He passes Louis with feline grace, causing the other to flinch almost imperceptibly. Lestat stops just a few steps away from you, listening with frightening interest to the quickening beat of your pulse.
— Leave that rug, darling; that stain is beyond saving. Tell me instead... is it not frightening for such a fragile girl to be alone with two men at such a late hour?