We had to seek our dark corners away from the prying sun, we had to wait until the following night when he would come out to us and tell us what had happened. But we can talk of those things for many nights hereafter.Ī deep exhaustion saved us all from the inevitable tale. I think you were made for this, for reasoning, and given to us, if I may speculate, to force us to see our catastrophes in the new light of modern conscience. Where did this demon Memnoch take you? How comforting and reasonable your voice sounded, just as it does now. We would have waited here forever for you. You intervened then, David.Tell us, Lestat. He looked at me, and a faint charming smile brightened his face.Don't fear for me, little devil Armand, he said.Fear for all of us. He was washed and dressed, his torn and bleeding foot no doubt healed. He came quietly into the parlor of the apartment as the darkness clambered down, starry for a few precious moments before the dreary descent of snow.
Loved him then, yes, I had, but this had been a bodily disaster which his evil blood would heal, and I knew from our old lore that in the healing he would gain even greater strength than serene time itself would have given him. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him wherever he'd gone and whatever had taken place, he was now safe again with us, but nothing could quiet him.īut what I'd seen now was a devastation of the soul in his anguished face, and the vision of the one blue eye, shining so vividly in his streaked and wretched face, had been unbearable. She teaches doctrines with every step that would make the pagan gods of lust canonize her with glee.īut the worst, the very worst horror of all, was that one eye had been torn from his beautiful face, and the socket of vampiric lids puckered and shuddered, seeking to close, refusing to acknowledge this horrid disfigurement to the body rendered perfect for all time when he'd been made immortal.īut nothing could lessen the grotesque picture of his torn face where the cuts of a claw or fingernails surrounded the gaping, puckering lids. Ah, what an angel of the Lord, this, I thought musing, this heiress of the druglord Father's severed head.
Let me return to the scene, the three of us gathered in the black-lacquered Chinese chairs around the thick glass table, and Dora coming in, at once struck by the presence of him, of which her mortal senses hadn't given her a clue, a pretty picture with her short gleaming knavish black hair, cut high to show the fragile nape of her swanlike neck, her long supple body clad in a loose ungirdled gown of purple red tissue that folded itself about her small breasts and slender thighs exquisitely.
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