“It has to be trickery, an illusion.” The same avowals came from all directions. People demanded agreement from those around them. Renaud’s face shone before me for an instant with gaping mouth and squinting eyes. But I had gone into a dance again. And this time the grace of it no longer mattered to the audience. I could feel it, because the dance became a parody, each gesture broader, longer, slower than a human dancer could have sustained. Someone shouted from the wings and was told to be still. And little cries burst from the musicians and those in the front rows. People were growing uneasy
...more
lestat. babe. perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. you’re going to get yourself killed, babe.
