I saw my son beaming at me, and beside him Rose looking on in quiet wonder. I smiled. I put my fingers gently to my lips and let the silent kiss go.

I left the room quickly. There would be time to embrace them, and to weep, yes, to weep as I held their warm, tender mortal bodies in my arms, only some thirteen hours from now when the night threw its inevitable mantle once again across the great Savage Garden that was our world.

As I lay down to sleep in the French library, I spoke softly to Amel.

“You’re quiet,” I said, “strangely quiet but I know you are there.”

“Yes, I’m here,” he said. “And it’s as you told them. Do you doubt your own explanation?” There was a pause but I knew he was going to say something more. “Years ago,” he said, “when you were a mortal boy in your village in France you had a friend, a friend you loved.”

“Nicolas,” I said.

“And you and he would talk.”

“Yes.”

“By the hour, by the day, by the night, by the week and the month …”

“Yes, always in those days when we were boys together, we would talk.”

“Do you remember what you called it, your long flowing exchange?”

“Our conversation,” I said. I marveled that he knew. Did he know because I knew? Could he search through my memory when I wasn’t remembering? I was drowsy and my eyes were closing. “Our conversation,” I said again. “And it went on and on.…”

“Well, we are having ‘our conversation,’ aren’t we?” he asked. “And our conversation will go on forever. There is no need for haste.”

A great warmth came over me as if I’d been wrapped in a blanket of love.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.”

29

Lestat

Pomp and Circumstance

AT SUNSET, the word went out that I would come before all in the park, at a deserted location well hidden from the mortal world. And as I set out to go, dressed in a new red-velvet coat and black pants and nice spiffy midcalf boots generously provided by Armand along with some old-fashioned lace at my throat, I discovered that Seth and Gregory were coming with me, that under no circumstances would they allow the Prince to walk amongst his people unguarded. Thorne and Flavius also accompanied us without a word.

I accepted it.

There were perhaps seventy-five fledglings in the gathering at eight o’clock and I had little difficulty greeting each with a clasp of hands and a promise that we would all work together to prosper. All had been young mortals when made, most dressed in black, some elegantly in old romantic nineteenth-century jackets or dresses, and others in the most exquisite black fashions of the present time, and still others were ragged, unkempt with matted hair—but all surrounded me with open hearts, with touching willingness to follow me and what I might demand. And one or two older ones were there, too, blood drinkers as old as Louis or myself. But there was no one older.

Taking a position in the middle of a circle, I explained that I was now their prince and I wouldn’t fail them. I did not tell them yet that I contained the Sacred Core. I saw no reason for that to be announced in vulgar fashion in such a place, or for it to be announced by me personally at all. But I did assure them that the rampage of the Voice had been ended.

The darkness was soothing here, and there was a certain quiet, with the distant buildings of Manhattan flanking the park on either side, and the overhanging trees partially concealing us. But I knew I had to be quick. There were curious mortals about. And I wanted no disruption.

I told them all now that they were to be assured of my guidance.

“I’ll soon set up my court to which you can come at any time, with rooms there for wayfarers, and all wayfarers. And the voice of Benji Mahmoud will never cease to offer you invaluable counsel. But if we are to cease from all battles and gang wars, and to live in secrecy and harmony with one another, then there must be rules, the very things I fought all my life, rules, and there must be a willingness on your part, for your own sake, to obey them.”

Again came that soft but mighty roar I’d heard from them on the sidewalk before the townhouse only a night ago.

“You must leave this city,” I said. “You must not congregate any more before Trinity Gate. Please, I ask that you agree to this.”

There were nods, cries of affirmation, of “yes” from all sides.

“This city,” I said, “great as it is, cannot sustain so many hunters, and you must find hunting grounds where you can feed on the evildoer and leave the innocent unmolested. Understand. This you have to do, and there is no escaping it.”

Again came their chorus of praise and agreement. So eager, so innocent, they seemed, so charged with collective conviction.

“There is no reason under the moon and stars,” I said, “why we cannot prosper. And prosper we will.”

A louder roar, and the innermost circle pressing in even as Gregory and Seth gestured for them to hold where they were.

“Now, give me time,” I said. “Give me opportunity. Wait to hear from me and I promise your patience will be rewarded. And spread the word far and wide that I am your leader now and you can trust in me and what we will all achieve together.”

I then took my leave, once again clasping hands on both sides as Gregory, Seth, Flavius, and Thorne escorted me out of the park. We ignored a deluge of irrepressible questions I could not answer now.

When I entered the townhouse, I saw in the drawing room the unmistakable figures of Gremt Stryker Knollys and Magnus, along with an impressive white-haired ancient blood drinker, and other ghosts—striking ghosts as solid and real seeming as Magnus. The shining and cheerful ghost of Raymond Gallant was among them. Had he met with Marius? I certainly hoped so. But Marius wasn’t there.

Armand was with them and so were Louis and Sevraine and they all stared silently at me as I came into the room. I was alarmed at the sight of this ancient blood drinker simply because he hadn’t come to us before. But I could see at once by the manner of everyone present that this was some sort of decorous or amicable meeting. And Seth and Gregory didn’t follow me but remained in the hallway, with Flavius and Thorne, but they did not seem concerned.

Gremt and Magnus were robed as before, but this ancient blood drinker who gave me his name telepathically as “Teskhamen” wore a handsome modern suit of clothes. The other ghosts were all attired in the same way, except for the one woman ghost, who wore a fashionable long dress and a slim black coat. The group was very simply astonishing.