“And I hope it's a beautiful woman with endowments you'll never possess.”
She’s expecting them, and yet the words still sting. Claudia’s eyes flash as she
composes herself, sanding the sharp edges of anger into something unassuming. She must
lower Lestat’s guard if she plans to kill him, after all.
Lestat. Her father. Her mentor. He had raised her. He had taught her to kill. He had
been the one to curse her with a fate worse than death, condemning her forever to
adolescence. And for what? To keep Louis around, her mind whispers. To tether him to New
Orleans out of obligation.
Was that all she was to Lestat? A bargaining chip?
And Louis. Her father. Her friend. He had also played a part in her transformation.
Did that not make him just as bad as Lestat?
No, she thought. He feels. His guilt consumes him. And yet, she isn’t sure she’ll ever be
able to see him the same again. Nevertheless, she knows he loves her. She knows she can
trust him, and that his curiosity will help her in finding other vampires, and that’s more
than she can say for Lestat.
“I meant what I said,” she continued. “I'm weary of arguing with you. Hell is hatred,
people living together in eternal hatred. We're not in hell. You can take the present or not, I
don't care. It doesn't matter. Only let's have an end to all this. Before Louis, in disgust,
leaves us both.”
Using Louis as her leverage usually earns her a few points, she had learned quickly.
She presses on, taunting Lestat with the vague mention of prey in the other room, knowing
his curiosity and lust will far outweigh any skepticism he might have. Skipping ahead, she
opens the door to check on the boys. Getting them there was easy enough, the promise of
a hot meal and warm room luring the orphans. Getting them drunk was easier still. Claudia
knows she could’ve done better, planned better to conceal her true intent, but a part of her
also realizes that Lestat will do the work for her. His passion blinds him. All she has to do is
set the scene, for once the director in their dismal tragedy.
When he gestures for her to join him, to share in that moment with him, she almost
feels bad. In these rare moments, when he is kinder, and the world is warmer, she grounds
herself with the thought of freedom. Of revenge. Of finding others like her–the thought of
finding answers. This is what carries her through as she watches realization set in on her
father’s face, as she watches him beg for Louis. She expects sadness, but the dull pang of
anger takes its place in her stomach. She taunts him as she watches his eyes roll, and she
taunts him when she pulls out the knife, and she taunts him even as Louis begs.
She thinks of her mother as she slits his throat, and watches his face still.
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