Oh, poor Edward, Lestat laughed, his mind clear. If only you had someone to teach you had to not fall for that old trick... let me help you...
Lestat frowned. Where's John in all this? He can't be that slow when it comes to actually finding something and eating it...
Well, this must be my friend's master, Lestat mused, almost laughing at the new vampire. He seems very inexperienced...
In the road? Lestat questioned, drifting behind Jinx's carriage. I didn't think John was that stupid...
Lestat sighed, moaning with triumph against her lips. He sunk his teeth into the sides of her mouth, drawing a prefect ring of blood into his own. He swallowed her screams with the hot liquid that rushed into the roof of his mouth. Feeling her begin to fall limp in his arms, Lestat slowly lowered her to the forest floor, her ripped mouth parting in a silent scream as he pulled his fangs out of her flesh. He sunk the red teeth into her wrist now, bringing up a final and heavier flow of blood. His eyes rolled back, and any noise or plea she made only heightened his esctasy like nothing else could. He regretted having to slow and stop as her heartbeat, which had been deafening in his ears, slowed to a heavy stop. "I know, my dear," Lestat gasped, standing and pushing back his lovely, blonde hair. "Death is something I longed for once as well." He sighed, the Bach song starting to come back into his ears, and he began to drift along once more, distantly following the carriages.
Lestat frowned, trying his best to cast his sweetest, most calming spell over her. He decided to be gentle at first, kissing her tears off her cheeks, his hand releasing slowly off her mouth so his lips could touch hers. He could feel her breath calm, his other hand running up and down her back, soothing her sobs. "Les pauvres ont perdu la dame," he murmured softly in French. "My poor lost lady..."
Lestat winced. They should know by now that when they scream I only bite faster. He slapped a rough hand over her mouth, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pulling her tightly to him. "Now, mon cherie," he muttered, his lips inches from her throat, "you really shouldn't yell. It makes things worse for you and better for me."
Lestat tightened his grip on Emily's arms, the smell of her fear mixing with her blood and bringing his senses to a height that made his mouth water. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, his eyes glazed over black, "You should just stay with me. I'm much... much more entertainning."
"Oh, don't go, mon cherie," Lestat whispered, and, in a tenth of a second, he as at her side, his hands gently on her shoulders. He wiped a tear off the side of her cheek with the lace tucked around his sleeve.
"Ah, my dear, I'm glad you asked," Lestat smiled, keeping his distance. "I am Lestat de Lioncourt, and I am a traveling pianist on my way to a Transylvanian town for a concert. Forgive me entruding your privacy, but where is your escort? A lovely lady should not be left alone in the woods on a dark night."
Lestat walked casually through the forest, humming the Bach piano tune in his head. He followed the scent of the girl, the fear and loneliness thick enough in the air almost for him to touch. His fingers drifted in the air once more, playing soundless notes and chords... And then he saw her, walking on her own, clothed in a plain, light black dress. The wind blew her long, straight, dark red hair out of its pins, spinning around her pale shoulders. "Bonsoir, ma belle dame!" Lestat crooned softly, his voice low, seductive, and sweet, sweeping into a large, gentlemanly bow as he materialized out of the shadows a few yards from her.
Lestat smiled, straying close enough to the moving carriages now to hear the thoughts and voices inside them. What a sweet boy, he thought, almost seriously.
"Once again, you are correct, sir!" Lestat exlcaimed, stepping back into the shadows of the trees, melting into the shade. "Now, I think there's a poor, pretty girl all alone who needs my help... and don't bother to come after; there will be nothing left."
Lestat nodded, though he was smiling internally. "I'd hate to be rude," he began, bowing dramatically, "but I am still hungry and that little daughter of mine wasn't much blood. You'll have to excuse me so I can go find something more filling."
Lestat sensed it and grinned wider, bearing his fangs. I've learned the over confidence lesson already, he thought to himself. Too bad John hasn't. That one hurts. "Why don't we... wait, then," he began slowly, his voice low, "and see what your maker wants from the carriages... since I assume you have no idea."
Lestat laughed loudly. "Finally you'll admit to your jealousy!" he exclaimed, raising his arms as if in triumph and then dropping them dramtically to his sides. "Did it ever occur to you," he began more seriously, taking a step toward John, his eyes still pitch black, "that what she said to him was true?"
"Ah, now I see where the resentment for werewolves comes in," Lestat mused. "And I thought you were just prejudice against poor Edward."
"Oh, lovely," Lestat replied, slightly amused. "Well, I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about since you seem to have a common interest: whomever is in those carriages."
"Do you know them?" Lestat asked. "I've no idea who it is..." The smell was something familiar and foriegn at the same time, which meant one thing: a vampire he didn't know.
Lestat smiled. "There's someone new nearby..." he began, his eyes turning black. "Can you tell?"
