“No, Lestat,” he whispered. “I can’t do it. Even if I’m wrong and you are right, and all your metaphors meaningless, I can’t do it.”

I took him into my arms, oh, so cold, so unyielding, this monster which I made out of human flesh. I pressed my lips against his cheek, shuddering as I did so, my fingers sliding around his neck.

He did not move away from me. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. I felt the slow silent heave of his chest against mine.

“Do it to me, please, beautiful one,” I whispered in his ear. “Take this heat into your veins, and give me back all the power I once gave to you.” I pressed my lips to his cold, colorless mouth. “Give me the future, Louis. Give me eternity. Take me off this cross.”

In the corner of my eye, I saw his hand rise. Then I felt the satin fingers against my cheek. I felt him stroke my neck. “I can’t do it, Lestat.”