It was years later that Lestat admitted he’d been toying with the idea of turning Barney, giving her the Dark Gift, making her the possibly first vampire cat in existence.

The thought had come to him as early as he had carried the ferocious little kitten in its box from the studio, which his band used for practising, to the house on Rue Royale. He’d anticipated Louis’ reaction to their new housemate, and an immortal one had seemed like the safer option. For all of them.

It was the memory of Claudia, their vampire daughter, forever trapped in a child’s body, that had stopped him. Barney was to reach adulthood first before any attempts were to be made. Only by then, both vampires (and Lestat’s human entourage) had grown very fond of the little creature, and Lestat suspected that should anything go wrong with Barney’s transformation, everyone would blame him. He could maybe live with the other band members being upset with him, but he couldn’t face Louis’ anger. Not after what had happened to Claudia. Not after his involvement.

Despite several conversations he’d had with Dr Bhansali, who assured him that it would “probably” work and who saw evidence in the many depictions of cats in Ancient Egypt that even the most ancient of vampires had a fondness of cats and had “probably” turned some of them, there was this grain of doubt left in Lestat’s mind. The constant use of the word “probably” did not help set Lestat’s mind at ease either, although he had learnt that scientists such as Dr Bhansali disliked giving straight answers.

In the end, Lestat had decided against it. Barney would live the best life a cat could live. She (previously mislabeled as “he”) would be cherished and cared for until her dying breath. What Lestat had not anticipated was the anguish in Louis’ eyes when the time had come. And the pain he himself felt watching the life drain out of their beloved pet.

In that moment he had realised that Barney was dying. Whether the inevitable was helped on by a pair of fangs or not. She would leave them. Forever. There was only one way to save her.

Doing it with Louis had felt right. And it had worked. Barney had died. And had been reborn as the most beautiful, wild Queen of the Feline Vampires.

Lestat had jokingly suggested renaming her Akasha. Louis had not talked to him for a month.

Barney’s appearance hadn’t changed much. Her hair was maybe even shinier and smoother than before, her eyes had a brightness and glow that had not quite been there before, and her claws were sharp as razors. When she hunted, it was still usually smaller animals – birds, mice, the occasional bunny rabbit – but she was no longer interested in eating the carcasses. Instead, she used her newly improved fangs to puncture their veins and lapped their blood. Sometimes her housemates would also share one of their victims’ blood with her.

When the other vampires found out about the newest variation of their species, their reactions couldn’t have been more different. Armand had been appalled (but not surprised) by this blatant breach of the Great Laws (although technically the Great Laws didn’t mention animals at all, a great oversight that Armand felt needed to be amended). Daniel had been amused and offered to turn Barney’s adventures into a children’s book. He’d been joking, Lestat assumed, although one could never be too sure with the old man.

What mattered the most, though, was that they were happy. Barney continued to be Louis’ companion, his emotional support, whenever Lestat struggled to deal with the darkness that sometimes clouded his lover’s mind. And to Lestat, Barney remained the ferocious hunting partner she had been since her kitten days.

What mattered the most was that Barney would stay with them forever.