Interview with the Vampire

You go ahead. Have your fun.

my companion.

If you're going to beat Lestat..

This is not a life!

You took my life!

...you have to think like he does

and then five moves ahead of that.

She is poisoning Louis against me.

Kill Antoinette.

We're his slaves, and I shall free us both.

You have won.

You want to kill him, too.

Finish the game!

We were going to kill Lestat.

So...

question.

Can an immortal meet mortality?

Technically, yes.

How?

Several ways.

Starvation.

Deny the body the blood.

Conversely, drink the blood of the dead.

He told me as much my first night reborn.

Then, there's fire.

Consume the body with fire and it can house no spirit.

Decapitation.

He confided that to me one blood-drunken night

in Baton Rouge.

Theoretically, it can be done.

But could it be done by us to him?

Could the children murder the father?

He was stronger than us, quicker than us,

in possession of ancient powers

that had been passed on to his progeny

only in a diminished form.

Add to the toxic air a new ever-present paranoia,

and now, you are with us.

We were compelled to sleep

in the same chamber together again.

He would have it no other way.

We would spend our hours enduring,

with little pretense of getting along,

locked together in hatred.

He would have it no other way.

Our only opportunity to plot would be telepathically.

And Claudia, for reasons she would not yet divulge,

used our advantage sparingly.

Knowledge is the ocean's edge.

I mean, to think it could somehow be gathered

by a mere 20 volumes.

But make no mistake, Claudia was plotting,

quiet in her deer blind.

A relic before it's even gone to the print shop.

Aww...

There's three of us you must provide for tonight.

I've had my fill.

Louis's never honored the blood as he should.

Blame the teacher, not the student.

Lestat de Lioncourt.

179 years in the Savage Garden.

148 years the blood-drinker, the bringer of death...

...the deer come up the trail.

Another approaches.

It's you.

Oh!

Are you the new postman?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry!

Come to deliver letters of salvation?

I did... I did not mean to disturb.

This is a private house, and we find it disturbing

when things are abandoned on our doorstep.

You misunderstand.

I... I'm an admirer. I... I've come seeking help.

Hmm.

Well, you came to the wrong house.

They say that Satan lives in this house.

But I say it different.

I say angels... angels live at 1132.

Does anyone know you came here?

No. No one, I swear.

I... I live alone, over on Ursuline.

I'm your neighbor.

Well, send Saint Peter our regards.

"Dear sirs and madam..."

Cancer of the blood.

"What is your secret? Can it be shared?

I have the means to pay you. I'm dying.

The medications aren't taking and my... "

Enough!

Two in one night.

Dolls, Bibles, letters become torches and pitchforks.

We have to leave this place.

We have to leave New Orleans.

Clean up the mess and come to coffin.

We have plans to make.

There were plans to make,

but the architect of those plans was...

Claudia. Right.

Cold, calculating, on mission.

I... I interrupted.

Uh... S... Sorry.

I... I got caught up in it.

You were saying?

You already have your plan, don't you?

I have a plan, and it's gonna take both of us.

Maybe start by telling me the plan?

You share a coffin with him.

I don't talk in my sleep.

You share a heart with him.

I can cut it off.

No, Louis. You can't.

You spend an hour alone with him

and you're breathing in sync together.

The plan only works if he's distracted.

I can pretend.

I used to see this woman, Lily, just to keep appearances.

I can... He'll know.

It'll only work if you give in.

Give him all your heart, and I'll do the rest.

I can't do that.

I'll lose myself in him.

Leave a little shelf inside there for me.

I'll jump back in and pull you out before I kill him.

Can you do that for us, Louis?

Louis?

Yeah, I can do it.

It's best to travel light, I think.

Reduce our valuables to a few trunks each.

What about Greece?

Cradle of Western Civilization.

Sun worshipers, hot springs.

Those who must be kept.

What was that?

Nothing.

Uh, if I know Italians, they'll be in Santorini

with their guns out by the end of the year.

No, we must follow the geese to Buenos Aires.

Bach. Always back to Bach.

Bach is beyond you.

Yes, the music of the master race is...

not made for these mongrel ears.

You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.

I came to make peace with you, Uncle Les.

Mm.

Sister, daughter, infant death, you must think me an idiot.

Could you two please just...

Hmm.

I've a present for you, Lestat.

An idea. Hmm.

An idea of yours?

It must be a small gift, then.

A weak man slips a letter under his door,

and the glorious vampire Lestat

runs like a rat to his hole.

It's not fear, but wisdom that guides our departure.

It's heroic that we've lasted as long as we have.

Agreed, but...

shouldn't we leave on our own terms?

Shouldn't we mock the city like we mock our victims?

You have something in mind, obviously.

Do nothing different,

settle our affairs, prepare to leave,

but on our last night, throw a party.

We're pariahs, sister.

No one's coming to a party thrown by freaks.

Precisely.

It's in the dying man's letter.

They want to know our secret.