The Vampire Chronicles

Watch "The Vampire Lestat: After Dark"

on AMC+ or wherever you get your podcasts.

Previously on "The Vampire Lestat"...

What do you think about the Great Conversion?

Vampires taking over the world.

Fucking stupid.

I saw Claudia in New York, someone who looked like her.

Thank you, Regina.

Eff this. Eff you. We quit.

I'm guessing you haven't heard from my maker.

I'm sorry you were burdened out of spite.

Where does the bullshit start?

Armand? Amadeo?

My name is Arun.

- Hello, Arun. - I am an addict.

I love you, Lestat.

There's not room enough in this box for your desperation.

I have this weird thing that happens.

Suddenly, everyone around me disappears, and I feel him.

Stop. Armand.

Gabriella Vecce, my first fledgling.

She died. - What the hell?

He was crying fucking blood tears.

Did no one see that?

It brought poor Dan to his knees

and seeded a hate for me inside him.

How long are you gonna stay?

I saw you two times last century.

It's not an unreasonable question.

All rockers sing about the road.

It's practically preordained.

Seger turned the page. Brown loaded out.

Jon Bon played for keeps

because he had too many doubts.

I mean, that's not the lyric,

but it should have been.

And Phil X was a better guitarist than Richie Sambora.

There, I said it so you don't have to.

I'm rambling a bit here. What am I trying to say?

Clichés about the road can be concussive,

but it doesn't make them conclusive.

Let's get the old guy in the front

to watch you choke me.

It can grind you down or deliver you home.

And which would it be for our Marginal Mystery Tour

back in the bosom of the nifty 50 United States?

Digitally, there was some optimism,

as somewhere between the P Diddler

and Chipotle's new Adobo Ranch sauce,

The Vampire Lestat found itself momentarily trending.

Cell phone footage of yours truly went viral

as both irrefutable proof of the cloud gift

and deepfake Antichrist.

More red meat for Reddit.

But a shot in the arm for your front man,

distracted by a lingering muse and the sudden disappearance

of the Vampire Sofia.

I would later find out the hits were

predominantly bots paid for

out of a Talamasca discretionary fund.

Should your privileged purse strings

become interested in pursuing the actual truth

of our recent apocalyptic adversities,

look no further than that watchful order

of the river of discreet money flowing in dark directions.

Nonetheless, I was in my grand brat phase,

with more gigs in the rearview than the road ahead.

And our bus never stopped for gas.

We ran on bots and abandonment.

Take this shit. Dump that shit. Be careful.

Don't get it on the floor.

Just dump it. Just dump it.

- Ew. Ew! - You need this shit?

Can I eat this one too?

Let me guess, 71 in a 65?

You want to tell me what's in that bowl right there?

- That's cocaine. - He exercises his...

right to remain silent.

You mind repeating that for the body cam?

Oh, the body cam, democracy's compact mirror,

which is funny, because that was a joke,

because this is actually, um, powdered makeup.

Delilah doesn't bark at makeup.

I'm gonna have you all step outside now.

You'll need a judge's warrant, so--

Why don't you take a seat?

Come, Delilah. Take a seat.

Delilah was right.

It is cocaine.

We are a rock band.

And we need it to do our job properly,

just as you need your firearm

and your expansive interpretation

of the Fourth Amendment to do your job properly.

- Lestat, that's-- - That's her line.

I stole it from her. She is a very good lawyer.

Now, you do

one of the most difficult jobs in our society.

You see humanity at its worst every shift you take.

And I can only imagine how that affects your judgment

and your home life.

It does.

If it were up to me, I would not allow

anybody who puts on the uniform

to work more than 35 hours a week.

Thank you.

This arrest would go poorly.

The blood tests that you would administer on me

would be weird.

Get the body cam.

And your precinct would be put in harm's way.

- You look very pretty now. - Yeah.

You go be the rough man standing,

ready to do violence on our behalf.

Officer Giloogly took a week off.

TC thought for the first time, maybe she could be a vampire.

Larry wished his brother could have been there.

And on a computer hard drive in a public library

somewhere on the eastern seaboard,

a manifesto waited patiently.

We were on the devil's road now,

hurtling towards end times.

Do you hear that, Armand?

You are listening to "The Failures,"

Album 33, Side B.

Service stations. Travel plazas.

Off the Autobahn they're called Raststatte.

On the devil's road, these liminal spaces

have no name,

for the occupants are not aware

they need rest or service.

What can I get you?

Hi. What can I get you?

Menu? Coffee?

Anything to drink?

Louis du Lac or Thomas Pitt

or he who licenses and franchises the night

was more feared than wanted now.

And he could do his business wherever he wanted.

And being in the same space with her

was satisfying in a way the destruction

of the Vampire Bruce was not.

He told himself he was in control.

We all did that year.

Best thing to do with our burger

is let it cool till the grease is all soaked, bread's all wet.

- I'm getting to it. - All right.

Well, Chef gets all aggy when plates come back untouched.

That's better.

Now you know you shouldn't eat here.

Regina!

Bethnal Green?

Hackney? - Piss off. Hackney?

Homerton?

What do you know about East?

I got a place in Marylebone.

Exactly, you posh boy.

Get Hackney off the tube map, did you?

You ever even stepped foot in zone two?

Miss, I think that's mine.

Mine till I give it to you.

Burn your mouth you eat it now.

What you doing in Brooklyn?

You're here three times in five nights,

Marylebone, with your cashmere sweatsuit.

You a student?

I'm a waitress.

And my ass ain't on the menu,

but it does cost, so tip better.

You can afford it. - Oh, no.

No, no. You got me wrong.

I'm, uh, spoken for.

Oh, you're gay.

Gay, gay, gay.

Burn my ass up. You're gay.

You order burgers. You don't like burgers.

You're a riddle, Thomas Pitt, or just cheap rich.

And you know, it's, like, essentially, like,

a middle school cheer with the big crowd claps

on the Roland for the backbeat.

- Lyrics? - Working on some.

That's my little pizza vampire.

Just show--sing him a song.

All right.

From the--from the verse? - No, no, from the chorus.

Go from the-- - It's weird.

It's wild, man. - One, two, one, two, three!