"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 the 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? "
"Do you think any of the old ones would do that? " I answered. He reflected for a long moment, slipping deep into his thoughts the way he used to do, so deep it was as if he forgot I was there. And it seemed that old rooms took shape around him, gaslight gave off its unsteady illumination, there came the sounds and scents of a former time from outside streets. We two in that New Orleans parlor, coal fire in the grate beneath the marble mantel, everything growing older except us. And he stood now a modern child in sagging sweater and worn denim gazing off towards the deserted hills. Disheveled, eyes sparked with an inner fire, hair mussed. He roused himself slowly as if coming back to life.
"No. I think if the old ones trouble themselves with it at all, they will be too interested to do that. "
"Are you interested? "
"Yes, you know I am, " he said. And his face colored slightly. It became even more human. In fact, he looked more like a mortal man than any of our kind I've ever known. "I'm here, aren't I? " he said. And I sensed a pain in him, running like a vein of ore through his whole being, a vein that could carry feeling to the coldest depths. I nodded'. I took a deep breath and looked away from him, wishing I could say what I really wanted to say. That I loved him. But I couldn't do that. The feeling was too strong.
"Whatever happens, it will be worth it, " I said. "That is, if you and I, and Gabrielle, and Armand . . . and Marius are together even for a short while, it will be worth it. Suppose Pandora chooses to show herself. And Mael. And God only knows how many others. What if all the old ones come. It will be worth it, Louis. As for the rest, I don't care. "
"No, you care, " he said, smiling. He was deeply fascinated. "You're just confident that it's going to be exciting, and that whatever the battle, you'll win. " I bowed my head. I laughed. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my pants the way mortal men did in this day and age, and I walked on through the grass. The field still smelled of sun even in the cool California night. I didn't tell him about the mortal part, the vanity of wanting to perform, the eerie madness that had come over me when I saw myself on the television screen, saw my face on the album covers plastered to the windows of the North Beach record store. He followed at my side.
"If the old ones really wanted to destroy me, " I said, "don't you think it would already be done? "
"No, " he said. "I saw you and I followed you. But before that, I couldn't find you. As soon as I heard that you'd come out, I tried. "
"How did you hear? " I asked.
"There are places in all the big cities where the vampires meet, " he said. "Surely you know this by now. "
"No, I don't. Tell me, " I said.
"They are the bars we call the Vampire Connection, " he said, smiling a little ironically as he said it. "They are frequented by mortals, of course, and known to us by their names. There is Dr. Polidori in London, and Larnia in Paris. There is Bela Lugosi in the city of Los Angeles,, and Carmilla and Lord Ruthven in New York. Here in San Francisco we have the most beautiful of them all, possibly, the cabaret called Dracula's Daughter, on Castro Street. " I started laughing. I couldn't help it and I could see that he was about to laugh, too.
"And where are the names from Interview with the Vampire? " I asked with mock indignation.
"Verboten, " he said with a little lift of the eyebrows. "They are not fictional. They are real. But I will tell you they are playing your video clips on Castro Street now. The mortal customers demand it, They toast you with their vodka Bloody Marys. The Dance of les Innocents is pounding through the walls. " A real laughing fit was definitely coming. I tried to stop it. I shook my head.
"But you've effected something of a revolution in speech in the back room as well, " he continued in the same mock sober fashion, unable to keep his face entirely straight.
"What do you mean? "
"Dark Trick, Dark Gift, Devil's Road-they're all bantering those words about, the crudest fledglings who never even styled themselves vampires. They're imitating the book even though they condemn it utterly. They are loading themselves down with Egyptian jewelry. Black velvet is once again de rigueur. "
"Too perfect, " I said. "But these places, what are they like? "
"They're saturated with the vampire trappings, " he said. "Posters from the vampire films adorn the walls, and the films themselves are projected continuously on high screens. The mortals who come are a regular freak show of theatrical types-punk youngsters, artists, those done up in black capes and white plastic fangs. They scarcely notice us. We are often drab by comparison. And in the dim lights we might as well be invisible, velvet and Egyptian jewelry and all. Of course, no one preys upon these mortal customers. We come to the vampire bars for information. The vampire bar is the safest place for a mortal in all Christendom. You cannot kill in the vampire bar. "
"Wonder somebody didn't think of it before, " I said.
"They did think of it, " he said. "In Paris, it was the Theatre des Vampyres. "
"Of course, " I admitted. He went on:
"The word went out a month ago on the Vampire Connection that you were back. And the news was old then. They said you were hunting New Orleans, and then they learned what you meant to do. They had early copies of your autobiography. There was endless talk about the video films. "
"And why didn't I see them in New Orleans? " I asked.
"Because New Orleans has been for half a century Armand's territory. No one dares to hunt New Orleans. They learned through mortal sources of information, out of Los Angeles and New York. "