INT. FRENCH QUARTER MANSION -- BALLROOM
Small orchestra plays for colonial couples in fine wig and garb
prancing to a French minuet. Young women sit in chairs along the walls
with their chaperones. Young men stand opposite.
LV: Lestat killed two sometimes three a night. A fresh young girl that was his favorite for the first of the evening. For seconds he prefered a guilded beautiful youth But the snob in him loved to hunt in society. and the blood of the aristorcrat thrilled him best of all.
A youth of preternatural beauty, sillhouetted against French windows.
He is talking to an elegan widow, seated, holding two manicured poodles.
Lestat stares at the youth with longing.
E: The trick is not to think about it. You see that one, Oud Sinclair. She had that gorgeous young phop murder her husband.
L: How do you know?
E: Read her thoughts. Read her thoughts.
L: I can't.
E: (He sighs, He leads Louis closer to them. ) The dark gift
is different for each of us. But one thing is true everyone grows stronger
as we go along.
E: Just take my word for it. She blamed a slave for his murder. Imagine
what they did to him. Evil doers are easier and they taste better. (He
smiles at the young man, who smiles in return.)
Oud Sinclair: Ah shantey (Lestat kiss hand), Monsieur Ah shantey.(Louie
kiss hand)
EXT. LAWNS. NIGHT.
Lestat walks the youth towards a copse of trees. He looks back at
Louis, who holds both poodles on a delicate leash, walking with the widow.
The minuet spills from the french windows.
Young Phop: Where are we going?
E: No where. (Trace line on Phop's cheek)
Oud Sinclair: Now young man, you really amaze me. I'm old enough to
be your grand mother. (She leans towards him concquettishly. Louis,
crazed with hunger, sees her as beautiful in the moonlight. He allows her
lips reach his. He takes her in his arms, gently, romantically, and kisses
her neck.)
E: Yes that's the melody I remember this. (The poodles growl. He shoots out an arm and grabs one, then the other. ) Murder, my little papillions. My desilon killed them.
EXT. TREES. NIGHT.
Lestat, bending over the body of the dead youth. A scream pierces
the night.
EXT. LAWNS. NIGHT
The widow on the grass, her poodles dead beside her. Louis is trying
to quiet her.
E: (Lestat comes from nowhere, claps a hand over her mouth and breaks
her neck. He spits in fury at Louis.)
Wining coward. of a Vampire who
prowels the night, killing rats and poodles, you could have finished us
both.
L: You can Damn me to hell.
E: I don't know any hell. (Louis
throws himself on Lestat with extraordinary force, pummelling him towards
the trees. Lestat laughing) Now That's more like it, anger fury, that's
why I chose you
(Flying across a second time. Lestat looks up at him, amazed and amused at the same time.).
E: But You couldn't kill me Louie. Feed on what you will rats, chickens,
(He laughs.) poodles, I'll leave you to it, and I'll watch you come
around. Just remember life without me would be even more unbarable. (He
smiles. A sly, pleasureable secret secret smile.)
EXT. SWAMP BY FIELDS. DAY.
Bodies of slaves floating in the swamp, with the bodies of goats.
Slaves at the edge throw ropes around the bodies, pull them towards the
shore. The drumming grows louder.
EXT. SLAVE-HUT. NIGHT.
The woman's scream pierces the sky, as Lestat walks into the night.
EXT. CHICKEN-COOP. NIGHT.
Every chicken is dead, bloodies necks hanging down from the cribs.
Louis emerges from the entrance, blood on his lips. He hears the scream.
EXT. SLAVE QUARTER. NIGHT.
The sound of drumming is heard, african, primal. The woman runs
through the quarters, screaming grief. Others gather at doorways, restrain
and console her.
EXT. DOVE-COTE. DAY.
A beautiful, elaborate eighteenth century dove-cote. Every dove
inside is dead, pierced at the neck. A balck hand throws in a flaming torch
and it bursts into flame.
INT. CABIN. NIGHT.
A doll, made in the image of Lestat, is pierced with needles.
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