Chapter 1

That's right, it's me. The Vampire Lestat. I have decided to come out of hiding yet again. Oh, it is not to find my fellows of the night or to sell undead secrets to mortals this time. I have decided to set a few things straight. A few things that Anne and that quaint editor of hers elected not to describe in my memoirs not long ago.

These are the missing pieces to "The Vampire Lestat." More precisely, the time I spent with my mother, Gabrielle before we left Paris for good.

Now before I go further, I implore you to actually read the original script. If you have not; then go buy it. It can be found at a place called Amazon for $7.99 — if you are so frugal as to desire such a superb masterpiece merely in paperback. Give Anne the money. She deserves it for sitting in that room and listening to me go on and on and on about every single nuance of my life before and after the Dark Gift. And especially for having to listen to Louis whine incessantly about love and God and even that little monster, Claudia!

(Louis, my dear Louis. He never was quite right for this sort of thing, if you ask me).

Now, where to start? I suppose I shall begin in the time immediately after I killed the wolves. Are you following? Have you read it yet? Good.

If you read closely you can see where things were left out. Oh, they edited it well, they did. It was right after my mother Gabrielle told me how she would have liked to go down to the village and just take on every man who came to her.

There was a distinct silence in the room, just as Anne stated. It was silent because I was so ashamed of the hardness my mother caused in me! I was still exhausted and in anguish over fighting first with the wolves and then with my brothers, but picturing my mother like that sent a thunderbolt to my loins. I could not help but picture myself as one of those men and wondered instantly if she meant what she had said.

She saw my hardness and my discomfort as she sat beside me on my bed. She saw it and smiled. A smile that told me she understood what I was feeling at that moment. But not only that, she also approved.

It was nothing really, but I feel that if I admitted such a personal thing to a mortal it could have at least been entered into record. Or do you not agree?

There was nothing else between us while I was still alive, except for secretive looks after that. But those things we had always shared, so nothing became of it. She was dying and I felt ashamed to have pictured her in such a lewd way as I had. For the most part, I did avoid my mother after that day.

But late at night there were times that I would come stumbling home drunk on the wine and talks with Nicki, dreaming of escaping my life of drear, and I would see my mother, fragile and beautiful by the hearth — so appealing even to my young eyes. And even in her weakened state. She was always beautiful, but never more so than when the moonlight or the glow from the fire shone across her face and her blond hair, so much like mine. I would see her and have the overwhelming desire to just kiss her and hold her and kiss her some more. But she would never have allowed that.

Or so I thought.

The night she came to me and gave me the last of her money, and with it her dying wish that I should run away with Nicholas and chase my dreams, we did kiss. She did cry in my arms and at first I simply held her. But she was not just stiff like it was portrayed.

When I pressed my lips to her soft cheek and inhaled her scent, almost smelling the death upon her, tasting the saltiness of her tears, she turned and kissed me suddenly. Not as a mother to a son, but as a lover who was going away. And perhaps that is what I was to her. Her lover. Her friend. The missing part to her soul. We stood there holding each other for a long time, kissing and tasting and breathing one another's sweet breath. And even to this day over two hundred years later, I can remember that first kiss as clearly as my first kill.

Paris.

The musicians, the theaters; the vendors and beggars. The ladies all strolling with that ridiculous air; and the gentleman too, with their outrageous hair. That is where it all changed.

The feelings I had when I stood in that room and watched her dying. Knowing that Roget and Nicki were waiting to carry her away. Well, read the book I say; it's all there. But what is not is what happened after I offered her the choice.

I suppose I should pause here and mention something else that has been conveniently omitted.

Vampires can get erections.

This was mentioned in great detail to my aforementioned biographer, and for the most part it was played down as an excitement, a rush, a lust for the kill and a joining of the killer with their mortal victim. But that does not truly describe the feeling entirely. It is, as I said — for Vampires that have such an appendage — an erection.

I suppose the Damned are male and female after all. We look that way and sound that way, so I will call myself male and Gabrielle female. She certainly looked every bit the female to me even after we both passed into immortality.

I find that mortals often try to be more deceptive than immortals. Never saying what they mean and hiding the truth. Well the truth of it was my mother excited me. It excited me as I saw her standing by the window, white faced just like I am now, with luxurious blond hair, and lips plump and kissable. Her breasts were magnificent at that moment, more so than I could remember even in childhood — buoying out above that blue corset, almost beckoning to be revealed, to be caressed, even touched and nibbled upon.

But I must mention something else as well. The excitement at that stage is purely mental. Maybe even emotional, but certainly not physical. It is not possible to get an erection or for a female immortal to feel that intense level of excitement until the blood flows through their veins. But when that happens — watch out, I say!

I had experienced this level of excitement with each and every one of my kills and while it did not necessarily frustrate me as it would have when I was a mortal, I did find it quite amusing. It mattered not if I had fed from a male or female mortal. It was the act itself of piercing the flesh and joining so intimately. That, or perhaps it was just the sudden rush of blood the filled every one of my veins — that one in particular as well.

As I said, I knew the feeling it caused in me, but it was not until I watched Gabrielle accost her first victim in that alley that I knew she too felt the same. She changed at that moment. I saw the blood already working within her; her face softening, losing its striking white shade, turning ruddy even. But more than that, I could smell her. Her sweet, musky female scent.

Gabrielle turned to me and smiled. It was the same smile she had given me when confessing her desire to be taken by many men. And having not fed and being much weakened from her having drank from me, I was taken off guard when she pressed me against the wall of that alley and kissed me. She was still remembering the life of a mortal and so her hand instantly reached for the crotch of my breaches, searching for my hardness there. She pulled back in surprise.

"Do I not excite you in death as I did in life... My darling, Lestat?"

I smiled weakly. Apologetically. "I must feed first, Mother. Gabrielle."

She simply nodded in understanding and we sought out my victim. We found him not far away.

Gabrielle had delighted in my teasing that poor soul. Had simply loved it, as was described. But what was omitted was how she immediately approached me to see if I was indeed able to get an erection after the kill.

Gabrielle smiled again as she saw the fire in my eyes and felt the hardness between my legs. We stood there as two statues just peering into each other's ethereal eyes. We both instantly felt the need to cross that line in which we had not had the strength when still alive. But just as I felt her growl in lust and then the feel of her lips pressing against mine; just as I was prepared to throw my mother down right there and love her unto ecstasy; she was stricken with the symptoms of her death.

We hid in that nearby cellar and I held her; and all thoughts of loving her in that very mortal manner were put aside.

When she was done with that, when she was over that last part of her mortal constraints, we stole the clothes that she would wear since her own had been soiled beyond redemption. She teased me then as she dressed in that lady's gown. And my mother showed me her breasts without shame; their rosy pink nipples and the white skin and bluish veins that I had never even dreamed to imagine upon her form.

She was forced to kiss me. Kiss me and shake me from my dream after having watched every one of her delicate movements while she dressed. She smiled like the devil she had become and pulled me toward the window, where we escaped from that place and went back for the horse.

And this time, when she killed a young man on the way and stole his clothes; preferring to replace her gown with his attire; my breath caught as I stared. Her legs were scrumptious in those white stockings, looking like a boy of the times, but so much shapelier, so much more — enticing. I wanted her and when she turned to look at me after slipping on his shoes and doing a little dance, she smiled that smile again.

She laughed at the moon and we raced for the mare, faster than any mortal could dream to see. And then having fled back to my tower that I'd inherited from Magnus — our tower now — we made our way to the cellar with the three sarcophagi. She cut off her hair then, and this shocked me at first, having never seen a woman with locks that short. I knew why she had done it but still it made me want her back the way she was before. I wanted her to look like my mother again.

I hesitated to leave her when she stepped beside her chosen place to rest. And this is where things were altered in that first account yet again.

Gabrielle was far from tired as was portrayed. And she was feeling spirited I could tell. She stripped naked right before my eyes and then tossed her garments inside, layering the bottom of the stone slab with them and an old dusty blanket that had fallen between the three coffins. Then she climbed inside the sarcophagus and propped herself on her elbows to look at me from within that deep stone chest. There was room enough for three men in there or one very large man with a full set of plate armor, so certainly enough for a young immortal and his vampire mother.

Gabrielle watched me with lust in her eyes, her excitement more than mine since she had fed from the boy in the alley less than an hour before. His blood was still working in her veins and I could see the trace of moisture between her legs, amidst the soft curls of her mound as she parted them for my gaze. My senses were heightened and the scent I caught made me nearly insane. None of these things were something a mortal would have seen or smelled while standing there, I am quite sure. Just one more reason I was pleased to have crossed to that undead realm instead.

I looked at her again and she was looking at my body now; licking her lower lip and pressing her tongue between her newly acquired teeth.

Before her, I had only been to the harlots who worked near the taverns. Those women did not look at a man the way my mother looked at me. It was just a chore to them. But this was the look of desire. The look that a mortal man gave when leering at a woman walking alone along the boulevards. It was even the look of an immortal, a starving immortal, as they gazed upon their first blood of the night.

The sun would be up within the hour, but the sleep was not yet upon us. And so, I quickly removed my clothes, not feeling the shame or embarrassment of a mortal. For I was no longer mortal. I was after all, the Vampire Lestat now and all mortal shame was put behind me.

I climbed inside with Gabrielle and we both pulled the heavy stone lid over top us, permitting the moonlight from the barred windows to shine upon us just enough.

I could see her luminescent eyes staring back at me as we lay side by side. And when I felt the smoothness of her arm and leg drape over my ribs and hip, I groaned. So long it had been since I had felt the touch of a woman this close — mortal or not. Utter perfection she was!

"Lestat," she whispered, pressing her lips to mine. "Now in death, we can experience what we lacked the courage to... in life."

"Gabrielle," I started. But she cut me short.

"No. Out there, I am Gabrielle. But in here, in our haven... I will always be your mother as well. And you will be always my son. We are immortal lovers now, you and I."

I nearly went mad hearing her state it like that. Mad with desire for her even as she gathered me closer with her leg and arm and pressed her lips firmly against mine. She seemed to encompass me with her soft limbs, tormenting and comforting me all the same. It felt so good; I almost felt the need to cry.

We kissed then like starved lovers. And I believe we were. I was still at that very moment finding it hard to believe that I not only had an immortal companion, but the very one I would have chosen before all others.

My mother for her part seemed ravenous. Her lips were everywhere on mine; chewing and sucking. I felt her sharp teeth bite into my tongue just barely and then the salty-sweet taste of blood. I cried out in surprise of the pain and this just made her kiss me harder. She captured my tongue between her lips and tasted the blood of her son, her immortal lover.

Her hand was between my legs, groping, squeezing. Gabrielle started to whimper in frustration as she felt me larger than normal, but not as hard as we would need.

We parted to catch our breath, her licking her lips from my blood and shuddering for a moment before opening her eyes and staring back at me.

"You need blood," she said softly.

I had not thought of that. I had been caught in the moment and assumed that being in her presence like that had somehow prevented me from doing the final deed. That perhaps there was some unwritten rule that even the damned could not commit such a shocking act.

"Gabrielle... there isn't time. The sun..."

"Ssshh," she said, kissing me once more; but she pulled back for a moment and pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. Her eyes winced momentarily and then she looked at me with that smile. Then she was upon me again.

I tasted her blood. Some of the all powerful blood that I had given her earlier, as well as that of her mortal kills. My eyelids fluttered from the taste of her. If the act of a mother and son coupling was forbidden to mortals, then the act of drinking freely the blood of another vampire would be that same forbidden pleasure for immortals. It was taboo. I felt it as the first drop touched my tongue.

The pleasure was too intense. Just as intense as feeding from a human; but something even more wickedly delightful as well. It was a level of trust that few immortals would dare to show another, for fear that very same blood could be sucked away in death, as easily as it had been in life.

But the blood we had shared, my tongue and her lip — this was not enough. We pulled apart and peered into each other's eyes again and we knew what had to be done.

Gabrielle's teeth ripped at the flesh of my neck before I had a chance to even consider any other away. The moan she let out as the blood poured freely into her mouth sent a shiver to my very being. The pain for me was nothing compared to the pleasure I felt as she drew my life away. My head felt as if I were flying through the clouds. My pulse throbbed at my neck and I felt the drawing of my blood make me sigh in ecstasy.

She was whimpering and trying to talk at the same time. I could not read her mind anymore since she had become immortal, but I sensed the urgency in the way she groaned halfway beneath me.

"Lestat!" she hissed. "Feed... or you will die!"

But even as she placed her mouth to my neck again and drew my blood effortlessly, she also reached for my head and pushed my own lips to her neck in turn. It was awkward in that position, confined in that ancient stone coffin, but I brought her small frame closer and reached with my mouth — piercing her neck, the taut creamy flesh.

The blood shot into my mouth which such force that it felt alive. And the taste. The taste of my own Mother's blood flowing freely made me nearly lose control. The two of us spent the next few minutes sucking that sweet red life out of each other in a continuous cycle, grinding our bodies together and growling like the demons we had become.

And that was when she rolled me on top of her. She did it easily, as her strength was nearly that of mine. But we did not release our frightening kiss at each other's throats. I lifted my hips and groaned as Gabrielle slipped my hardness inside her, wrapping her legs around my waist and bringing me down frantically upon her.

Her hands went to my rear and pulled me in as deep as she dared. Both of us reared our heads away from that kiss and gasped. A shrill sound that pierced the night and nearly deafened us inside that ancient stone tower. We were joined as no mortal mother and son should ever be joined, and we recognized that instantly as our eyes met.

I could feel the blood at my neck already slowing, the wounds trying to heal. I looked down at my mother, my lover and saw her sharp teeth still red and moist. She closed her eyes but I saw a terrible, beautiful smile slowly forming on her lips around those teeth.

I knew the feeling. She felt so good wrapped around me in every way, squeezing me inside her depths and pulling me into her with her hands. Her body, in becoming immortal, had regained the physical state of her youth. A young woman, vibrant and healthy, firm and tight. We were both perfection, her and I.

I needed more. I needed to drink from my mother again as she wiggled her hips beneath me wickedly and forced me to drive myself even deeper. My body jerked from that sensation alone. I could just barely see the darkened streaks that trailed from the puncture marks at her neck. I waited until she opened her eyes and I groaned out, "Mother!" before I reopened the wounds at her throat and drank from her once more.

"Ah, my son! Lover!" she hissed. "I need... more... of my son!"

She spread her thighs and lifted her hips in an unearthly way, almost hovering and taking more of my hard shaft inside her. I assumed that was what she mean by "more" as I sank deeper than I thought possible between her legs. But then I felt her teeth biting into the tense muscle near my shoulder and I gasped. The pain was sharp and fierce, but again, the blood flowed enough to fill her mouth I am sure.

I pulled her face away moments later and saw the starving, desperate look in her eyes. But there was lust hidden away in there as well. And so I kissed her and offered her my tongue once more, feeling the teeth scrape lightly across the tip, teasing me, not permitting me to know when that moment would come that she would just sink them down and cause me to cry out.

She did it fast, and I could feel her laughing as she drank from the hot liquid dripping from my mouth into hers. And so I pressed my teeth against her lip and did the same. Our blood mingled, just as our bodies entwined. My mother moaned as I gathered up her gift with my lower lip, allowing her to drink from me all the while.

Our grinding together had never stopped during all this, mind you. And I for one was becoming curious to see this experiment through to completion. The damned loving the damned? Would the moisture of our love be tainted red, the same as our tears and our sweat? I imagined so. And was it possible for the waking dead to carry a vampire child within her womb? The thought made me groan out with lust to discover these things.

I lowered my face to her pale white breast and without hesitation I sank my teeth into the tip, one sharp long tooth on either side of her swollen pinkish nipple. I had the sweet sensation at that moment, of being a babe and suckling from that same breast — once again drawing sustenance from my mother through that full and sensitive flesh.

She had grabbed my arm by this time, and I was oblivious to this as I chewed and sucked and drank at her breast, until I felt the teeth tear at the flesh of my wrist and draw my life back into her. My lids felt heavy as I felt the beating of our undead hearts meeting and then marching as one.

We moved that way for some time, feeding off one another and moving our bodies in that age old way of mortals before us. The almost orgasmic pleasure of my blood being forced through the small piercings at my wrist while tasting the very same blood flowing into my mouth from my mother's breast made me lose the last bit of control I had retained. My shaft swelled inside her and she let go my wrist to let out a shriek as she arched beneath me and came.

I could still taste her blood as I stopped drinking and held myself atop her as best I could, sliding myself deep time and again. I exploded, sending my love spiraling out in dizzying waves as she moaned and writhed beneath me. Her nails drew blood at my back and her legs spread lewdly one moment and gripped my thrusting hips the next.

We slid to a crawl and our kissing returned to a relative state of normalcy. My tongue healed, our lips renewed. We kissed and breathed each other's sweet breath once more.