Claudia was entirely broken. She had left a part of herself in Romania. I knew I had to steer her far away from it. I chose the city that called to us on the radio. To the mother of New Orleans. Members of my coven sensed... Uh, uh, uh. We'll get to you. The war had turned off the lights, stripped its streets of their beauty, sent its avant-garde into exile. But now, the whole world was ready to return, to remake their lives. Pilgrims on their hopeful way. [Flashback of riding an army truck with Claudia sitting across from him] I wanna say something to you. I don't need to hear anything back, I just need you to hear me. Hard words and soft words. The hard. Our life is shit. It's been shit. It is shit. It's gonna be shit again. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. No one's watching, no one cares. A shit life beats no life. But where we're going now we can't be running away again. Doesn't mean we forget what we saw. What she did in front of us. If I see you going that way, I'm going pull you back. I don't need that from you. As long as you walk the Earth, I'll never taste the fire, you understand me? We're going to find others like us. And if it ain't here, cos life is shit, or I fսck it up again, or you fսck it up, we'll go to the next place. We can't be the only good ones out there. Soft words. If you were the last vampire on Earth it would be enough. [Repeatedly] You and me. Me and you. [A slit throat Lestat appears besides Claudia then disappears]
Louis needs Paris. I don't know what I need. Maybe a new brain in my head. Why can't I tell him this? I suppose I'm afraid my joylessness will take away his happiness, and maybe I don't want his feelings to depend on mine anymore. Maybe I want to be joyfully joyless. A forever switch of wild opposites at play.
What about Lestat? He's 100-something-year-old painting in a frame. They got a fսcking shrine! What if they find out we killed him? One of us would have to tell them. Or think it!
Well, I thought it the second I saw his face in the frame, but there they were inviting us back, five minutes later. To kill us. And right after that I invaded their thoughts, and not one, not one of them, thought anything other than I want to lick these two, so we need to stay away from Estelle if we can.
But I wasn't an Algerian. I was an American, and if there was an assumption that I'd arrived to blow a trumpet or sing for my supper, it did not register as a slight in those days. I was just grateful knowing no one wanted to lynch me or direct me to the far end of the café counter.
Yes, you did! Past your empathy for that woman, past your fear of being exposed. Vampire pride. Those Frenchies love being vampires. And they shamed us because we never felt that way and we fucking should! I'm going back. I want more... Take your people pictures! Worship them in the red light all you want! I want to be with my own! Don't ruin this for me, Louis. I need this!
And sometimes you've watched that kill on the local news. You've never been easier to distract. You're at the height of willful ignorance. We exploit it. This is, was, Lestat's prophetic vision.
