Lestat ignored that for the moment. "It wasn't fiction," he said. "I'm standing here. Just the same as I wrote those books through someone else."
Lestat would argue that zombies, at least like the kind of zombies that were in the City those years ago, were not at all people. They hadn't had any minds left. There was nothing to read in them, nothing at all. There wasn't even a coherent thought about feeding.
Catholicism had changed dramatically since Lestat was in seminary. He was not sure how he felt about the Church now. Honestly he had not put a great deal of thought into it, not for a long, long time. He'd met angels and demons. There was a God. He'd drank from Christ. These things were enough.
And if he ever talked to heavenly figures again...
Lestat shrugged. "I sincerely hope that never happens. But if I can get past the blind terror that will likely accompany such an occurrence, then certainly."
He gave her a smile that allowed her to see the fangs.