I never lie," I said offhand. "At least not to those I don't love.

I am an unwilling devil. I cry like some vagrant child. I want to go home.

I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over my lips, my hands!

Drink." she whispered, drawing nearer. "Drink." she held the soft, tender flesh of the wrist towards me. "No. I know what to do; haven't I done it in the past?" I said to her.

Don't be a fool for the Devil, darling.

The sky was growing dangerously light when I left Lestat and made my way to the secret place, below an abandoned building where I kept the iron coffin in which I lie.

This is no unusual configuration among our kind-the sad old building, my title to it, or the cellar room cut off from the world above by iron doors no mortal could independently seek to lift.