“So what’s your truth behind the lie?”

“He’s not purely unredeemable. He’s merely part of God’s plan. He’s a spirit allowed to tempt and try humans. He disapproves of humans, of the entire experiment. See, that was the nature of the Devil’s Fall, as I see it. The Devil didn’t think the idea would work. But the key, Lestat, is understanding that God is matter! God is physical, God is the Lord of Cell Division, and the Devil abhors the excess of letting all this cell division run wild.”

Again, he went into one of his maddening pauses, eyes widening again with wonder, and then he said:

“I have another theory about the Devil.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s more than one of them. And nobody appointed much likes the job.” This he said almost in a murmur. He was distracted, as if he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

I laughed outright.

“Now that I can understand,” I said. “Who would like the job of being the Devil? And to think that one can’t possibly win. And especially considering that the Devil was an angel at the start of it all, and supposed to be very smart.”

“Exactly.” He pointed his finger at me. “Your little story about Rembrandt. The Devil, if he had a brain, should have acknowledged the genius of Rembrandt.”

“And the goodness of Faust.”

“Ah, yes, you saw me reading Faust in Amsterdam, didn’t you? And you purchased your own copy as a consequence.”

“How did you know that?”

“The proprietor of the bookstore told me the next afternoon. A strange blond-haired young Frenchman came in moments after I’d left, bought the very same book, and stood in the street reading it for half an hour without moving. Whitest skin the man had ever seen. Had to be you, of course.”

I shook my head and smiled. “I do these clumsy things. It’s a wonder some scientist hasn’t scooped me up in a net.”

“That’s no joke, my friend. You were very careless in Miami several nights ago. Two victims drained entirely of blood.”

This created such instant confusion in me that at first I said nothing, then only that it was a wonder the news had reached him on this side of the sea. I felt the old despair touch me with its black wing.

“Bizarre killings make international headlines,” he answered. “Besides, the Talamasca receives reports of all sorts of things. We have people who clip for us in cities everywhere, sending in items on all aspects of the paranormal for our files. ‘Vampire Killer Strikes Twice in Miami.’ Several sources sent it along.”

“But they don’t really believe it was a vampire, you know they don’t.”

“No, but you keep it up and they might come to believe it. That’s what you wanted to happen before with your little rock music career. You wanted them to catch on. It’s not inconceivable. And this sport of yours with the serial killers! You’re leaving quite a trail of those.”