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Lestat wakes up to find himself in his travel coffin:-
Rain was falling heavily on the lid of his coffin. Pounding upon it furiously. But he did not have the strength to push open the lid and feel it upon his face. Oh what he would have given to have the warm rain wash the crusted blood from his skin.
He would have wept, but knew he could not spare the blood.
“Poor Uncle Les, don’t have the strength to kick open the lid of his box. No jumping out and scarin’ the shit outta the rats!”
Her voice. Taunting him. Always taunting him.
