When a book is just as interesting second go-around as it was upon first reading ... you know you've happened upon a masterpiece. That's how I feel about Ann Rice's book, "The Vampire Armand," where the writing is crisp and vivid.
Attempting NOT to quote the entire book, the following is just a few segments that I found thought provoking and worth sharing.
No, little one, you are not dying. You are coming now into my protections, and perhaps if the stars are with us, if they are kind to us, you'll never die at all. (Pg. 31.)
A VAMPIRE's EMBRACE:
Once I lay half asleep. The air was rosy and golden. The place was warm. I felt his lips on mine, and his cold tongue move serpentlike into my mouth. A liquid filled my mouth, a rich and burning nectar, a potion so exquisite that I felt it roll through my body to the very tips of my outstretched fingers. I felt it descend through my torso and into the most private part of me. I burned. I burned. (Pg. 57.)
ANNE'S CONVEYANCE OF VAMPIRE EROTICA:
Golden honey was painted on my nether parts only to be licked away by giggling angels. (P. 65.)
VAMPIRE OBSERVES A LITTLE BIT OF MYSTERY:
I fixed my eyes on the tenacious little spirit
"Why do you linger here?" I asked it desperately in a whisper. "Why can't I see you?"
It moved its little mouth as if it meant to speak, but it only shook its head ever so slightly, piteously eloquent of its confusion.
The steps came on. And once again I struggled to catch the scent. But there was nothing, not even the dusty reek of a vampire's robes, only this, the approach of this shuffling sound. And finally there came to the bars the tall shadowy figure of a haggard woman.
I knew that she was dead. I knew. I knew she was as dead as the little one who hovered by the wall. (P. 251.)
VAMPIRE OBSERVING DEATH:
I lay back , and flung out my arm in careless despair and felt the child's corpse, still faintly warm beside me.
I did not always see their ghosts.
I did not seek to master the means of doing so.
They were no friends to me -- it was a new curse -- these spirits would now and then collect about the scene of my bloody destruction. I saw no hope in their faces when they did pass through those moments of my wretchedness when the blood was warmest in me. No bright light of hope surrounded them. (Page 252.)
HOW VAMPIRES CHOOSE WHOM TO TURN VAMPIRE:
... the Dark Gift, for that is what we called it, must never be given to those who were not beautiful, for the enslaving of the beautiful with the Dark Blood was more pleasing to a Just God. (P. 253.)
WHY ANCIENT VAMPIRES SHOULD NEVER MAKE NEW VAMPIRES
... our powers increase with time and the power of the old ones is too great for the young. (p. 253.)