He had always had a way of being painfully honest and cutting through superfluous language as if every language he had ever learned was a “second tongue.” And that voice, that deep male voice, indicated a maturity he really didn’t possess yet, as far as Fareed was concerned.

“You won’t be in a colony of the Undead,” said Fareed reprovingly. “You’ll be in our own apartments, and you’ll be safe with our guards.”

Oh, he was beautifully behaved, never rash, Viktor, and never rebellious, and seldom if ever emotional in a confusing way, but he was a boy of nineteen, one year younger biologically than Rose, almost to the month, by sheer coincidence, and both of them were children.

“Bring us over,” Viktor whispered, glancing from Fareed to Seth.

“The answer is no,” said Seth. He placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. The two were about the same height, though Viktor was gaining.

Fareed sighed. He said again what he had said before.

“The Voice slays young blood drinkers,” said Fareed. “We will not bring you over and make you vulnerable to his attacks, simply to lose you. As mortals you are infinitely safer. And if this thing ends in ruin for us, you and Rose will survive. You and Rose will walk away. You may never know what happened, and all your life you’ll carry the burden of experiences you can’t share with others. But you’ll walk away. And we want this for you, regardless of what you want.”

“That’s the love a parent has for its child,” said Seth.

Viktor was plainly exasperated. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give,” he said, “for five minutes with my real father.” It wasn’t said with malice. It was a simple confession, and Viktor’s eyes were wondering as he said it.

“And you will likely get more than that in New York,” said Fareed. “That is only one of the reasons we must go there. Because you and Rose must meet with him and he must decide what happens with you.”

“Rose is half out of her mind,” said Viktor. “This can’t end any other way for her but with the Blood. You know this! Do you realize how helpless I feel?”

“Of course,” said Fareed. “We feel helpless ourselves. But now we must be going. We’ll reach New York before you do. And we’ll be there when the plane lands.”

Viktor could never know the depth of Fareed’s anxiety right now. Fareed had not brought this vital, splendid human being into the world simply to consign him to death, death in any form, yet Fareed knew how desperately and totally this boy wanted the Blood and had to want it. Only Lestat could consign these two to the Blood. Fareed could never do it.