“I put my hand to my temples. ‘I opened the shutters… I came into the room. I felt pity for you. Pity. But… something else.’

“I saw her lips slack, her eyes wide. ‘You… fed on me?’ she whispered. ‘I was your victim!’

“ ‘Yes!’ I said to her. ‘I did it.’

“There was a moment so elastic and painful as to be unbearable. She stood stark-still in the shadows, her huge eyes gathering the light, the warm air rising suddenly with a soft noise. And then she turned. I heard the clicking of her slippers as she ran. And ran. And ran. I stood frozen, hearing the sound grow smaller and smaller; and then I turned, the fear in me unraveling, growing huge and insurmountable, and I ran after her. It was unthinkable that I not catch her, that I not overtake her at once and tell her that I loved her, must have her, must keep her, and every second that I ran headlong down the dark street after her was like her slipping away from me drop by drop; my heart was pounding, unfed, pounding and rebelling against the strain. Until I came suddenly to a dead stop, She stood beneath a lamppost, staring mutely, as if she didn’t know me. I took her small waist in both hand and lifted her into the light. She studied me, her face contorted, her head turning as if she wouldn’t give me her direct glance, as if she must deflect an overpowering feeling of revulsion. ‘You killed me,’ she whispered ‘You took my life!’

“ ‘Yes,’ I said to her, holding her so that I could feel her heart pounding. ‘Rather, I tried to take it. To drink it away. But you had a heart like no other hear I’ve ever felt, a heart that beat and beat until I had to let you go, had to cast you away from me lest you quickened my pulse till I would die. And it was Lestat who found me out; Louis the sentimentalist, the fool feasting on a golden-haired child, a Holy Innocent a little girl. He brought you back from the hospital where they’d put you, and I never knew what he mean to do except teach me my nature. “Take her, finish it,” he said. And I felt that passion for you again. Oh, I know I’ve lost you now forever. I can see it in your eyes! You look at me as you look at mortals from aloft, from some region of cold self-sufficiency l can’t understand. But I did it. I felt it for you again, a vile unsupportable hunger for your hammering heart, this cheek, this skin. You were pink and fragrant as mortal children are, sweet with the bite of salt and dust, I held you again, I took you again. And when I though your heart would kill me and I didn’t care, he parted us and, gashing his own wrist, gave it to you to drink. And drink you did. And drink and drink until you nearly drained him and he was reeling. But you were a vampire then. And that very night you drank a human’s blood and have every night thereafter.’

“Her face had not changed. The flesh was like the wax of ivory candles; only the eyes showed life. There was nothing more to say to her. I set her down. ‘I took your life,’ I said. ‘He gave it back to you.’

“ ‘And here it is,’ she said under her breath. ‘And I hate you both!’ ”

The vampire stopped.

“But why did you tell her?” asked the boy after a respectful pause.

“How could I not tell her?” The vampire looked up in mild astonishment. “She had to know it. She had to weigh one thing against the other. It was not as if Lestat had taken her full from life as he had taken me; I had stricken her. She would have died! There would have been no mortal life for her. But what’s the difference? For all of us it’s a matter of years, dying! So what she saw more graphically then was what all men knew: that death will come inevitably, unless one chooses… this!” He opened his white hands now and looked at the palms.

“And did you lose her? Did she go?”

“Go! Where would she have gone? She was a child no bigger than that. Who would have sheltered her? Would she have found some vault, like a mythical vampire, lying down with worms and ants by day and rising to haunt some small cemetery and its surroundings? But that’s not why she didn’t go. Something in her was as akin to me as anything in her could have been. That thing in Lestat was the same. We could not bear to live alone! We needed our little company! A wilderness of mortals surrounded us, groping, blind, preoccupied, and the brides and bridegrooms of death.

“ ‘Locked together in hatred,’ she said to me calmly afterwards. I found her by the empty hearth, picking the small blossoms from a long stem of lavender. I was so relieved to see her there that I would have done anything, said anything. And when I heard her ask me in a low voice if I would tell her all I knew, I did this gladly. For all the rest was nothing compared to that old secret, that I had claimed her life. I told her of myself as I’ve told you, of how Lestat came to me and what went on the night he carried her from the little hospital. She asked no questions and only occasionally looked up from her flowers. And then, when it was finished and I was sitting there, staring again at that wretched skull and listening to the soft slithering of the petals of the flowers on her dress and feeling a dull misery in my limbs and mind, she said to me, ‘I don’t despise you!’ I wakened. She slipped off the high, rounded damask cushion and came towards me, covered with the scent of flower, the petals in her hand. ‘Is this the aroma of mortal child?’ she whispered. ‘Louis. Lover.’ I remember holding her and burying my head in her small chest, crushing her bird-shoulders, her small hands working into my hair, soothing me, holding me. ‘I was mortal to you,’ she said, and when I lifted my eyes I saw he smiling; but the softness on her lips was evanescent and in a moment she was looking past me like some one listening for faint, important music. ‘You gave me your immortal kiss,’ she said, though not to me, but to herself. ‘You loved me with your vampire nature.’

“ ‘I love you now with my human nature, if ever I had it,’ I said to her.

“ ‘Ah yes…’ she answered, still musing. ‘Yes, and that’s your flaw, and why your face was miserable when I said as humans say, “I hate you,” and why you look at me as you do now. Human nature. I have no human nature. And no short story of a mother’ corpse and hotel rooms where children learn monstrosity can give me one. I have none. Your eyes grow cold with fear when I say this to you. Yet I have your tongue. Your passion for the truth. Your need to drive the needle of the mind right to the heart of it all like the beak of the hummingbird, who beats so wild and fast that mortals might think he had no tiny feet, could never set, just go from quest to quest, going again and again for the heart of it. I am your vampire self more than you are. And now the sleep of sixty five years has ended’

“The sleep of sixty-five years has ended! I heard her say it, disbelieving, not wanting to believe she knew and meant precisely what she’d said. For it had been exactly that since the night I tried to leave Lestat and failed and, falling in love with her, forgot my teeming brain, my awful questions. And now she had the awful questions on her lips and must know. She’d strolled slowly to the center of the room and strewn the crumpled lavender all around her. She broke the brittle stem and touched it to her lips. And having heard the whole story said, ‘He made me then… to be your companion. No chains could have held you in your loneliness, and he could give you nothing. He gives me nothing… I used to think him charming. I liked the way he walked, the way he tapped the flagstones with his walking stick and swung me in his arms. And the abandon with which he killed, which was as I felt. But I no longer find him charming. And you never have. And we’ve been his puppets, you and I; you remaining to take care of him, and I your saving companion. Now’s time to end it, Louis. Now’s time to leave him.’

“Time to leave him.

“I hadn’t thought of it, dreamed of it in so long; I’d grown accustomed to him, as if he were a condition of life itself. I could hear a vague mingling of sounds now, which meant he had entered the carriage way, that he would soon be on the back stairs. And I thought of what I always felt when I heard him coming, a vague anxiety, a vague need. And then the thought of being free of him forever rushed over me like water I’d forgotten, waves and waves of cool water. I was standing now, whispering to her that he was coming.