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 preferred
a gilded beautiful youth But the snob in him loved to hunt in society.
and the blood of the aristocrat thrilled him best of all.
A youth of preternatural beauty, silhouetted against French windows.
He is talking to an elegant 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. Evildoers 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: Nowhere. (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 prowls 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, pummeling 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 unbearable. (He smiles.
A sly, pleasurable 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 black 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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