Claudia would, in fact, like to see Jubilee turn into a bat, if only for the pure amusement of such a spectacle. She takes a moment to gather up her cloak and skirts, and she follows Jubilee: she does not run like a mortal would, but instead covers the ground in a series of enormous leaps, like giant strides, hundreds of feet at a time, each descent graceful as flight. She certainly could only barely keep up with Lestat, her legs so much shorter, her body so much smaller, but Jubilee is closer to her size.

Two miles will not be very long at all: it has been a while since she shed the pretense of being merely mortal entirely.