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The Vampire Chronicles

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One by one the vampires were withdrawing. The painted forest came back, sliding soundlessly into place. Until the mortal girl, frail and very white, lay naked in that mysterious wood, nestled in the silk of a black bier as if on the floor of the forest itself; and the music had begun again, eerie and alarming, growing louder as the lights grew dimmer. All the vampires were gone, except the trickster, who had gathered his scythe from the shadows and also his handheld mask. And he crouched near the sleeping girl as the lights slowly faded, and the music alone had power and force in the enclosing dark. And then that died also. 
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For a moment the vampire stared blankly. “I have an accent?” He began to laugh.

And the boy, flustered, answered quickly. “I noticed it in the bar when I asked you what you did for a living. It’s just a slight sharpness to the consonants, that’s all. I never guessed it was French.”

“It’s all right,” the vampire assured him. “I’m not as shocked as I pretend to be. It’s only that I forget it from time to time. But let me go on.…”

 
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Ghastly thought, Anna. I would hate being reincarnated as an animal. I had a hard enough time being a human. But if this had to happen, I would choose to be a male lion. Of course I’d wish for splendid size, mane, and health, and would want to be free on the African plain, and to live a vigorous and murderous life, competing with other males for dominance of mates and hunting territories. 
 ”Dear Lestat, if you could be reincarnated as any animal, which animal would you choose and why?”
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