Prince Lestat: The Vampire Chronicles
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THE VAMPIRE WORLD IS IN CRISIS . . .
Old vampires, roused from deep slumber in the earth, are doing the bidding of a Voice commanding that they indiscriminately burn their kin in cities across the globe, from Paris to Mumbai, Hong Kong to San Francisco. Left with little time to spare, a host of familiar characters including Louis de Pointe du Lac, Armand, and even the vampire Lestat, must embark on a journey to discover who—or what—is driving this mysterious being.
Agreed?” “All right. Give me five minutes to tell my architect that I won’t be here for a few nights. And where are we going?” “Oh, that architect, what a nuisance! While you’re at it, drain him of every drop of blood in his system. A madman who spends his life restoring a remote château simply because he’s paid to do it is a dreary prospect indeed.” “Stay away from him, Mother. He’s my trusted servant. And I like him. Now where exactly will we be going, if I may ask?” “Fifteen hundred miles.
take my stand with her. I can reach there before sunrise in that hemisphere.” “No, you mustn’t do this.” It was the voice of the spirit, Gremt. He was still sitting quite calmly to Sevraine’s left as before. “You’re needed at the conclave, and that’s where you must go. If you return to Maharet’s sanctuary now, she’ll only drive you away again. And she may do worse.” “Forgive me,” I said, straining to be courteous, “but what has this to do with you?” “I knew this spirit, Amel,” he answered,
Rhosh would not remain in this place, no. He wanted to be gone now. He felt sick remaining in this room. “And so we shall seek shelter at the hotel tonight,” said Rhosh. “And then we will think what to do, how to get that Fareed to assist us.” “Well, I can give you a little assistance, my timid charge,” said the Voice bitterly. He had finally exhausted himself with his laughing. He had an anguished tone Rhosh had never heard before. “I will tell you precisely how to enlist the cooperation of
The Voice is after all the fount of all we are; and the Voice has only just begun to express himself, to tell us what he wants us to know. No, we must not allow ourselves to be duped by the Voice into destroying one another. Never. But we must have patience with the Voice. We must have respect, and I mean this, we must have respect for who and what the Voice is.” I hesitated. I wanted to say more. “The Voice is a mystery,” I said, “and this mystery must not be treated by us with hasty and
the streets,” I said disgustedly. “Go on Benji’s radio show. Call in and tell him and all of them out there. And you wonder why I go into exile?” “Gentlemen, please,” said Jesse. She sat there still in her armchair looking small, fragile, shaken, shoulders hunched as if against the blast of our argument. “Sorry, dearest,” said David. He returned to his chair beside her. “Look, I need the remaining time before dawn,” she said. “Lestat, I want you to give me your iPhone, and you, David, let me