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Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. ALSO BY ANNE RICE
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. A Brief History of the Vampires
  8. Blood Argot
  9. Proem
  10. Part I
  11. 1
  12. 2
  13. 3
  14. 4
  15. 5
  16. 6
  17. 7
  18. 8
  19. 9
  20. 10
  21. 11
  22. 12
  23. 13
  24. 14
  25. 15
  26. 16
  27. 17
  28. 18
  29. Part II
  30. 19
  31. 20
  32. 21
  33. 22
  34. 23
  35. 24
  36. Part III
  37. 25
  38. 26
  39. 27
  40. 28
  41. 29
  42. 30
  43. 31
  44. 32
  45. 33
  46. Appendix 1
  47. Appendix 2
  48. What’s next onyour reading list?

Something in Roland changed. His eyes fixed on those of Rhosh as if Rhosh’s thoughts had leapt out of his mind and pinched at Roland’s heart though Rhosh had never intended such a thing.

Rhosh smiled. He reached out and laid his hand on Roland’s shoulder.

“ ‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’ ” said Rhosh. “Follow or go away.” And turning, Rhosh went up fast towards the broken clouds and the faint stars above them.

15

Lestat

THE LITTLE CHURCH was dark and empty. Only ten years ago, my beloved architect had rebuilt it from the ground up, according to what historical records he could find, and my own remembrances. And it looked very like the old church of my times, when it had seemed vast to me as a child, and the Masses said on the distant altar had held the only connection with the Divine ever offered me.

I sat in the first pew, gazing at that altar, at the polished silver tabernacle and the crucifix above it, and beyond the great oval portrait of Saint Louis of France, in all his royal splendor riding off to fight the Crusades on his white charger.

My beloved architect and chief of staff had just left me, after assuring me that all firefighting systems in the village and in the castle on the hill were as they should be. And yes, the inn was prepared for the guests who would arrive sometime after sunrise, and yes, they’d be brought up to the castle right before nightfall.

Only Arion remained with me.

I stared at the altar and Arion looked at me, Arion who had his own sorrow to impart, his own story of those under the spell of the Voice who’d burnt his villa to the ground, and left his orchards and gardens in a blackened ruin.

“I saw her die,” he had said. He had told the whole tale to me and now the chapel no longer echoed with the sound of his soft voice.

“I am certain it was Mona. I saw her red hair. I saw her die but it seemed she went in an instant, that she didn’t suffer. And as for Quinn, I don’t know if he was there, but if he was not there, then where is Quinn and why did he never come back? For three nights I waited in those miserable ruins, burnt and in agony, waiting for him. I never heard from him again. If he were alive, surely, he would have come back, or he would have gone to you. Or he would have gone to the Talamasca.”