thelionscrimsonclaws:

the-arbiter-elegantiarum:

I’ve probably read it before Lestat got his hands on it, which is quite amusing when you think about it. It must have been a few years after publication, because I found it in one of the secondhand bookshops that I grew quite fond of. I was looking for some old editions of my favourite classics when a shabby paperback copy inevitably caught my eye – the word “Vampire” shining with bloody letters. 

Don’t think I was startled by it, no, by all means no. The stories about vampires were quite popular since late 19th century and most of the time they got everything wrong about us, therefore I saw no danger in them. But out of curiosity I picked it up and after reading the first two pages I decided to buy it. It seemed to be something different. 

The nameless vampire and nameless reporter boy. How could I possibly foresee that in a few years I will meet both of them and that the latter will become a fledging of my fledging and now my companion? But I digress. 

You can imagine, my friend, that as soon as Lestat’s name appeared on the page I suddenly saw the book for what it was. A very real memoir disguised as popular fiction and very well protected by the modern attitude towards mythical creatures. From this point I drunk every word greedily, looking for other names, for secrets I feared to be revealed. I was both astonished and disappointed.

To see how well concealed Lestat kept the knowledge I shared with him was both comforting and painful. To see how he disregarded my advice and made a mistake of turning a child so young…! I found it outrageous. To see Armand, my dear Amadeo, described by Louis, to see him every bit as charming and tempting as he used to be, and yet so entirely different… It broke my heart. To see my dear Lestat treated so cruelly and suffering so awfully… Oh, reading this book was an absolutely infuriating experience.

But not quite as infuriating as reading Lestat’s novel, I must say. 

He started it. I had to set the record straight.