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do."
His French accent was sharp and precise, as always happened when he was emotional, and I loved the richness it gave
to his speech. I think we are wise, we English speakers, to savor accents. They teach us things about our own tongue.
I rather loved him, loved his lean graceful movements, and the way in which he responded wholeheartedly to things, or
not at all. He had been gracious to me since the first moment we met, sharing this, his house, with me, and his loyalty to
Lestat was without a doubt.
"If it's any consolation to you," I hastened to add, "I've seen Merrick Mayfair. I've put the request to her, and I don't
think she means to turn us down."
His surprise amazed me. I forget how completely human he is, being the very weakest of us, and that he cannot read
minds at all. I had assumed also that he'd been watching me of late, keeping his distance, but spying as only a vampire or
an angel can, to see when this meeting would take place.
He came back around and sat down again.
"You must tell me about the whole thing," he said. His face flushed for an instant. It lost the preternatural whiteness and
he seemed a young man of twenty-four with sharply defined and beautiful features, and gaunt well-modeled cheeks. He
might have been made by God to be painted by Andrea del Sarto, so deliberately perfect did he seem.
"David, please let me know everything," he pressed, due to my silence.
"Oh, yes, I mean to. But let me have a few moments more. Something is going on, you see, and I don't know if it's her
general wickedness."
"Wickedness?" he asked in utter innocence.
"I don't mean it so seriously. You see, she's such a strong woman and so strange in her ways. Let me tell you everything,
yes."
But before I began I took stock of him once more, and made myself note that no one among us, that is, no one of the
vampires or immortal blood drinkers whom I had encountered, was anything like him.
In the years since I'd been with him, we'd witnessed wonders together. We had seen the very ancient of the species and
been thoroughly humbled by these visitations, which had made a weary mockery of Louis's long nineteenth-century quest
for answers which did not exist.
During our recent convocations, many of the old ones had offered Louis the power of their ancient blood. Indeed, the
very ancient Maharet, who was now perceived to be the twin of the absolute Mother of us all, had pressed Louis in the
extreme to drink from her veins. I had watched this with considerable apprehension. Maharet seemed offended by one so
weak.
Louis had refused her offer. Louis had turned her away. I shall never forget the conversation.
"I don't treasure my weaknesses," he'd explained to her. "Your blood conveys power, I don't question that. Only a fool
would. But I know from what I've learnt from all of you that the ability to die is key. If I drink your blood I'll become too
strong for a simple act of suicide just as you are now. And I cannot allow that. Let me remain the human one among you.
Let me acquire my strength slowly, as you once did, from time and from human blood. I wouldn't become what Lestat has
become through his drinking from the ancients. I would not be that strong and that distant from an easy demise."
I had been amazed at Maharet's obvious displeasure. Nothing about Maharet is simple precisely because everything is.
By that I mean that she is so ancient as to be divorced utterly from the common expression of tender emotions, except
perhaps by deliberate merciful design.
She had lost all interest in Louis when he'd refused her, and to the best of my knowledge she never looked at him, or
mentioned him, ever again. Of course she didn't harm him, and she had plenty of opportunity. But he was no longer a
living being for her, no longer one of us, for her. Or so I had divined.
But then who was I to judge such a creature as Maharet? That I had seen her, that I'd heard her voice, that I'd visited
with her for a time in her own sanctuary all that was reason for thanks.
I myself had felt a great respect for Louis's disinclination to drink the absolute elixir of the dark gods. Louis had been
made a vampire by Lestat when Lestat had been very young, indeed. And Louis was considerably stronger than humans,
well able to spell-bind them, and could outmaneuver the most clever mortal opponent with ease. Though he was still
bound by the laws of gravity to a far greater extent than I was, he could move about the world very rapidly, attaining a
brand of invisibility which he very much enjoyed. He was no mind reader, and no spy.
However, Louis would very likely die if exposed to sunlight, though he was well past the point where sunlight would
reduce him to pure ash, as it had done Claudia only seventy years or so after her birth. Louis still had to have blood every
night. Louis could very probably seek oblivion in the flames of a pyre.
I shuddered now, as I reminded myself of this creature's deliberate limitations, and of the wisdom he seemed to possess.
My own blood was quite remarkably strong because it came from Lestat who had drunk not only from the elder Marius,
but from the Queen of the Damned, the progenital vampire herself. I didn't know precisely what I might have to do to
terminate my existence, but I knew it would not be an easy thing. As for Lestat, when I thought of his adventures and his
powers, it seemed impossible by any means for him to exit this world.
These thoughts so disturbed me that I reached out and clasped Louis's hand.
"This woman is very powerful," I said, as I made to begin. "She's been playing a few tricks on me this evening, and I'm
not sure why or how."
"It has you exhausted," he said considerately. "Are you sure you don't want to rest?"
"No, I need to talk to you," I said. And so I began by describing our meeting in the cafe and all that had passed between
us, including my memories of the child Merrick from years ago.
5
INDEED I TOLD HIM everything which I have told you so far.
I described even my scant memories of my first meeting with the girl Merrick, and my repressed fear when I was quite
certain that the ancestors in the daguerreotypes had been passing approval on Aaron and me.
He was very startled when I laid down this part of the story, but wouldn't have me pause just yet but encouraged me to
go on.
I told him briefly of how the meeting had triggered other, more erotic memories of Merrick, but that Merrick had not
refused his request.
Merrick had seen him, I explained to him, and she knew who he was and what he was long before any intelligence on
the vampires had been given to her by the Talamasca. In fact, to the best of my knowledge no information on the vampires
had ever been given to Merrick.
"I remember more than one encounter with her," he said. "I should have told you, but by now you must know my
manner."
"How do you mean?"
"I tell only what's necessary," he said with a little sigh. "I want to believe in what I say, but it's hard. Well, in truth I did
have an encounter with Merrick. That's true. And yes, she did fling a curse at me. It was more than sufficient for me to
turn away from her. However, I wasn't afraid. I'd misunderstood something about her altogether. If I could read minds as
you can read them, the misunderstanding would never have occurred."
"But you must explain this to me," I said.
"It was in a back street, rather dangerous," he said. "I thought she wanted to die. She was walking alone in utter
darkness, and when she heard my deliberate footfall behind her, she didn't even bother to glance over her shoulder or
speed her pace. It was very reckless behavior and unusual for any woman of any sort at all. I thought she was weary of
life."
"I understand you."
"But then, when I drew close to her," he said, "her eyes flashed on me violently, and she sent out a warning that I heard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]