conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a plot for a book about Mona, Lestat, Mayfair entitled Blood Canticle.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Blood Canticle: Narrated by Lestat, Blood Canticle finds young Mayfair witch and heiress Mona wasting away, victim to a mysterious disease brought on by the birth of her daughter.\nAs the novel plays out, Mona and her guardian, Rowan Mayfair, reveal more and more about the powerful genetic plague that has haunted the Mayfairs for generations: their connection to the Taltos, an advanced species of human to which both women have given birth.\nMona and the young vampire Tarquin "Quinn" Blackwood are in love.\nLestat turns a dying Mona into a vampire so that the lovers can be together forever, also knowing that if Quinn had done it himself, he and Mona could not have shared thoughts as most vampires do.\nWhile trying to prevent Mona\'s family from discovering her transformation, Lestat falls in love with Rowan; secretly, she pines for him as well.\nAs Mona adjusts to her new power, Lestat enlists the ancient vampire Maharet to help find Mona\'s Taltos child.\nLestat, Quinn and Mona arrive at the remote island colony of the Taltos, but instead of finding a secluded utopia they discover that years of intrigue and civil war have taken their toll.\nThe remaining Taltos join the Mayfair clan at their New Orleans medical center where they can be safe, learn and be together as a family.\nMona and Quinn are taken by Khayman to be properly instructed in the ways of vampirism by Maharet and Mekare.\nRowan seeks out Lestat, half in love with him but torn by her love for her husband Michael; exhausted by her life, she requests that he give her the Dark Gift.\nLestat declines, pained though he is, because she is a guiding force for the Mayfair family and he cannot take her away from it.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this book.. Start with the sentence 'Blood Canticle
  A tall dark-skinned woman came in, perhaps fifty years in age, but extremely well groomed and seductive—black-rimmed eyes, heavily made-up face, blood red lips, and a head of luxuriant dark hair and a pinched waist, breast-heavy figure'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Blood Canticle
  A tall dark-skinned woman came in, perhaps fifty years in age, but extremely well groomed and seductive—black-rimmed eyes, heavily made-up face, blood red lips, and a head of luxuriant dark hair and a pinched waist, breast-heavy figure.
  She was holding in her hand an obviously religious statue. She was fastidiously dressed in a mauve silk dress with a golden chain for a belt, black net stockings and sharp heels, flashy gold earrings, and she spoke immediately in heavily accented Spanish.
  She set it down on the low white table along the wall! A brilliantly painted statue of Saint Juan Diego!
  She stared at me with immense curiosity and utter fearlessness, eyes opaque, mouth hard. In a flash she had a black pistol in her hand. And in a flash I'd taken it from her and thrown it on the bed.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me two more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I thought of the massacre last night, the ruthless elimination of Lord Rodrigo and his soldiers. I thought of the bodies heaved into the everlasting sea. I thought of nothing.
  He drew back to think on this, with just a little nod. I sensed that there were questions he wanted to ask me, but he didn't dare. Was it propriety or fear? I couldn't tell.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: But I'd never really lose her. Because I wouldn't lose the lesson of love I'd learned through her. And this she had given me as I had tried to give it to her.
  And so the morning dew covered the grass on that day at Blackwood Farm like any other, and I dreamt before the sun rose that:
  I wanna be a saint, I wanna save souls by the millions, I wanna look like an angel, but I don't wanna talk like a gangster, I don't want to do bad things even to bad guys, I wanna be Saint Juan Diego....
  Be gone from me, oh mortals who are pure of heart. Be gone from my thoughts, oh souls that dream great dreams. Be gone from me, all hymns of glory. I am the magnet for the damned. At least for a little while. And then my heart cries out, my heart will not be still, my heart will not give up, my heart will not give in—