“Get away from me,” I whispered.

“Oh, come now, don’t be so fastidious,” he said. “You hate it when other people do it to you. You’re quite privileged, Lestat de Lioncourt. You’ve found what Diogenes was searching for. An honest man!” Another broad smile, and then a low volley of simmering laughter, as if he couldn’t contain it any longer. “I shall see you Wednesday. And you must come early. I want as much of the night as I can have.”

He turned and hurried into the street, waving frantically for a taxi, and then bolting against the traffic to force his way into a cab which had just come to a stop, quite obviously, for someone else. A little argument ensued, but he won out immediately, slamming the door in the other fellow’s face as the cab sped off. I saw him wink at me through the dirty window, and wave. And then he and his taxi were gone.

I was sick with confusion. I stood there unable to move. The night for all its coldness was busy and full of the mingled voices of the passing tourists, of cars slowing as they passed the square. Without intent, without words, I tried to see it as it might be in the sunshine; I tried to imagine the heavens over this spot that shocking vague blue.

Then slowly I turned up the collar of my coat.

I walked for hours. I kept hearing that beautiful cultured voice in my ears.

It’s not merely the blood you steal from them, it’s their lives. I’ve never stolen anything that valuable from anyone. The body, yes, but not the blood and the life.

I couldn’t have faced Louis. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to David. And if Marius learned of this, I was finished before I’d begun. Who knew what Marius would do to me for even entertaining such an idea? And yet Marius, with all his vast experience, would know if this was truth or fancy! Ye gods, had Marius never wanted to do it himself?

At last, I went back to my apartment, and turned out the lights and sat sprawled on the soft velvet sofa, before the darkened glass wall, peering out at the city below.

Remember, please, if you harm me, you’ll throw away this opportunity forever … Use me or you’ll never know what it’s like to be a human being again … You’ll never know what it’s like to walk in the sunlight, to enjoy a full meal of real food, to make love to a woman or a man.

I thought about the power of rising out of one’s material form. I didn’t like this power, and it did not happen to me spontaneously, this astral projection, as it was called, this spirit traveling. Indeed, I had used it so few times I could have counted them on one hand.

And in all my suffering in the Gobi, I had not tried to leave my material form, nor had I been propelled out of it, nor had I even thought of such a possibility.