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The Queen of the Damned

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The Queen of the Damned

The Vampire Chronicles, Book 3
by Anne Rice
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In 1976, a uniquely seductive world of vampires was unveiled in the now-classic Interview with the Vampire . . . in 1985, a wild and voluptous voice spoke to us, telling the story of The Vampire...
In 1976, a uniquely seductive world of vampires was unveiled in the now-classic Interview with the Vampire . . . in 1985, a wild and voluptous voice spoke to us, telling the story of The Vampire...
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Description-
  • In 1976, a uniquely seductive world of vampires was unveiled in the now-classic Interview with the Vampire . . . in 1985, a wild and voluptous voice spoke to us, telling the story of The Vampire Lestat. In The Queen of the Damned, Anne Rice continues her extraordinary "Vampire Chronicles" in a feat of mesmeric storytelling, a chillingly hypnotic entertainment in which the oldest and most powerful forces of the night are unleashed on an unsuspecting world.

    Three brilliantly colored narrative threads intertwine as the story unfolds:

    - The rock star known as Vampire Lestat, worshipped by millions of spellbound fans, prepares for a concert in San Francisco. Among the audience--pilgrims in a blind swoon of adoration--are hundreds of vampires, creatures who see Lestat as a "greedy fiend risking the secret prosperity of all his kind just to be loved and seen by mortals," fiends themselves who hate Lestat's power and who are determined to destroy him . . .

    - The sleep of certain men and women--vampires and mortals scattered around the world--is haunted by a vivid, mysterious dream: of twins with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes who suffer an unspeakable tragedy. It is a dream that slowly, tauntingly reveals its meaning to the dreamers as they make their way toward each other--some to be destroyed on the journey, some to face an even more terrifying fate at journey's end . . .

    - Akasha--Queen of the Damned, mother of all vampires, rises after a 6,000 year sleep and puts into motion a heinous plan to "save" mankind from itself and make "all myths of the world real" by elevating herself and her chosen son/lover to the level of the gods: "I am the fulfillment and I shall from this moment be the cause" . . .

    These narrative threads wind sinuously across a vast, richly detailed tapestry of the violent, sensual world of vampirism, taking us back 6,000 years to its beginnings. As the stories of the "first brood" of blood drinkers are revealed, we are swept across the ages, from Egypt to South America to the Himalayas to all the shrouded corners of the globe where vampires have left their mark. Vampires are created--mortals succumbing to the sensation of "being enptied, of being devoured, of being nothing." Vampires are destroyed. Dark rituals are performed--the rituals of ancient creatures prowling the modern world. And, finally, we are brought to a moment in the twentieth century when, in an astonishing climax, the fate of the living dead--and perhaps of the living, all the living--will be decided.

    From the Hardcover edition.

Excerpts-
  • From the book

    ITHE LEGEND OF THE TWINS

    Tell it
    in rhythmic
    continuity.
    Detail by detail
    the living creatures.
    Tell it
    as must, the rhythm
    solid in the shape.
    Woman. Arms lifted. Shadow eater.


    STAN RICE
    from "Elegy"
    Whiteboy (1976)

    "CALL HER FOR ME, " HE SAID. "TELL HER I HAVE had the strangest dreams, that they were about the twins. You must call her!"

    His daughter didn't want to do it. She watched him fumble with the book. His hands were his enemies now, he often said. At ninety-one, he could scarcely hold a pencil or turn a page.

    "Daddy," she said, "that woman's probably dead."

    Everybody he had known was dead. He'd outlived his colleagues; he'd outlived his brothers and sisters, and even two of his children. In a tragic way, he had outlived the twins, because no one read his book now. No one cared about "the legend of the twins."

    "No, you call her," he said. "You must call her. You tell her that I dreamed of the twins. I saw them in the dream.""

    "Why would she want to know that, Daddy?"

    His daughter took the little address book and paged through it slowly. Dad all these people, long dead. The men who had worked with her father on so many expeditions, the editors and photographers who had worked with him on his book. Even his enemies who had said his life was wasted, that his research had come to nothing; even the most scurrilous, who had accused him of doctoring pictures and lying about the caves, which her father had never done.

    Why should she be still alive, the woman who had financed his long-ago expeditions, the rich woman who had sent so much money for so many years?

    "You must ask her to come! Tell her it's very important. I must describe to her what I've seen."

    To come? All the way to Rio de Janeiro because an old man had had strange dreams? His daughter found the page, and yes, there was the name and the number. And the date beside it, only two years old.

    "She lives in Bangkok, Daddy." What time was it in Bangkok? She had no idea.

    "She'll come to me. I know she will."

    He closed his eyes and settled back onto the pillow. He was small now, shrunken. But when he opened his eyes, there was her father looking at her, in spite of the shriveling yellowed skin, the dark spots on the backs of his wrinkled hands, the bald head.

    He appeared to be listening to the music now, the soft singing of the Vampire Lestat, coming from her room She would turn it down if it kept him awake. She wasn't much for American rock singers, but this one she'd rather liked.

    "Tell her I must speak to her!" he said suddenly, as though coming back to himself.

    "All right, Daddy, if you want me to." She turned off the lamp by the bed. "You go back to sleep."

    "Don't give up till you find her. Tell her--the twins! I've seen the twins."

    But as she was leaving, he called her back again with one of those sudden moans that always frightened her. In the light from the hall, she could see he was pointing to the books on the far wall.

    "Get it for me," he said. He was struggling to sit up again.

    "The book, Daddy?"
    "The twins, the pictures..."

    She took down the old volume and brought it to him and put it in his lap. She propped the pillows up higher for him and turned on the lamp again.

    It hurt her to feel how light he was as she lifted him; it hurt her to see him struggle to put on his silver-rimmed glasses. He took the pencil in hand, to read with it, ready to write, as he had always done, but then he let it fall and she caught it and put it back on the table.

    "You go call her!" he...

About the Author-
  • Anne Rice is the author of twenty-nine books. She lives in Rancho Mirage, California.

Reviews-
  • San Francisco Chronicle

    "Mesmerizing . . . a wonderful web of dark-side mythology."

  • Los Angeles Times "With The Queen of the Damned, Anne Rice has created universes within universes, traveling back in time as far as ancient, pre-pyramidic Egypt and journeying from the frozen mountain peaks of Nepal to the crowded, sweating streets of southern Florida."
  • USA Today "Imaginative . . . intelligently written . . . This is popular fiction of the highest order."
  • The Boston Globe "A tour de force."
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    Random House Publishing Group
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Anne Rice
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