Lestat moved with impossible speed, descending on the scene like a primed missile. Perhaps, he realized, that was a better description for Viktor, who was incandescent. Radiant. Still, he rocketed through the ragtag group, ripping the head from the man keeping Viktor restrained. It tore messily from the stump of his neck, and was tossed like a bowling ball at another one of Viktor's assailants.

A third dropped to the pavement, his throat a ruined tangle of gore, before Lestat had even shown himself.