The Tale of the Body Thief (41 page)

Louis shifted his gaze slowly to the animal, then back to me. Then gradually, the set of his mouth softened ever so slightly. And then he reached for my hand, and pulled me up—quite without my cooperation or consent—to a standing position.

“It really is you,” he said in a deep, raw whisper.

“You’re damned right it’s me. And you nearly killed me, you realize that! How many times will you try that little trick before all the clocks of the earth tick to the finish? I need your help, damn you! And,
once again
, you try to kill me! Now, will you please close whatever shutters still hang on these damned windows, and make a fire of some sort in that miserable little hearth!”

I flopped down again in my red velvet chair, still laboring for breath, and a strange lapping sound suddenly distracted me. I looked up. Louis had not moved. Indeed he was staring at me, as if I were a monster. But Mojo was patiently and steadily devouring all of the vomit I had spilt upon the floor.

I gave a little delighted laugh, which threatened to become a fit of perfect hysteria.

“Please, Louis, the fire. Make the fire,” I said. “I’m freezing in this mortal body! Move!”

“Good God,” he whispered. “What have you done now!”

I
T WAS two by the watch on my wrist. The rain had slackened beyond the broken shutters which covered both doors and windows, and I sat huddled in the red velvet chair, enjoying the little
blaze from the brick fireplace, yet badly chilled again, and suffering the same old racking cough. But the moment was at hand, surely, when such a thing would no longer be of concern.

I had poured out the whole tale.

In a frenzy of mortal candor, I had described each and every dreadful and bewildering experience, from my conversations with Raglan James to the very last sad farewell to Gretchen. I had told even of my dreams, of Claudia and me in the long-ago little hospital, of our conversation in the fantasy parlour of the eighteenth-century hotel suite, and of the sad terrible loneliness I’d felt in loving Gretchen, for I knew that she believed at heart that I was mad, and only for that reason had she loved me. She had seen me as some sort of beatific idiot, and no more.

It was finished and done. I had no idea where to find the Body Thief. But I must find him. And this search could only begin when I was once again a vampire, when this tall powerful body was pumped with preternatural blood.

Weak as I would be with only the power Louis could give me, I would nevertheless be some twenty times stronger than I was now, and capable perhaps of summoning help from the others, for who knew what manner of fledgling I would become. Once the body was transformed, surely I’d have some telepathic voice. I could beg Marius for his help; or call out to Armand, or even Gabrielle—as yes, my beloved Gabrielle—for she would no longer be my fledgling, and she could hear me, which in the ordinary scheme of things—if such a word can be used—she could not.

He sat at his desk, as he had the entire time, oblivious to the draughts, of course, and the rain splattering on the slats of the shutters, and listening without a word as I’d spoken, watching with a pained and amazed expression as I’d climbed to my feet and paced in my excitement, as I had rambled on and on.

“Judge me not for my stupidity,” I implored him. I told him again of my ordeal in the Gobi, of my strange conversations with David, and David’s vision in the Paris café. “I was in a state of desperation when I did this. You know why I did it. I don’t have to tell you. But now, it must be undone.”

I was now coughing almost continuously, and blowing my nose frantically with those miserable little paper handkerchiefs.

“You cannot imagine how absolutely revolting it is to be in this
body,” I said. “Now, please, do it quickly, do it with your greatest skill. It’s been a hundred years since you did it last. Thank God for that. The power is not dissipated. I’m ready now. There need be no preparations. When I regain my form, I’ll fling him into this one and burn him to a cinder.”

He made no reply.

I stood up, pacing again, this time to keep warm and because a terrible apprehension was taking hold of me. After all, I was about to die, was I not, and be born again, as it had happened over two hundred years ago. Ah, but there would be no pain. No, no pain … only those awful discomforts which were nothing compared to the chest pain I felt now, or the chill knotted in my fingers, or in my feet.

“Louis, for the love of God, be quick,” I said. I stopped and looked at him. “What is it? What’s the matter with you.”

In a very low and uncertain voice he answered:

“I cannot do this.”

“What!”

I stared at him, trying to fathom what he meant, what possible doubt he could have, what possible difficulty we must now dispose of. And I realized what a dreadful change had come over his narrow face—that all its smoothness had been lost, and that indeed it was a perfect mask of sorrow. Once again, I realized that I was seeing him as human beings saw him. A faint red shimmer veiled his green eyes. Indeed, his entire form, so seemingly solid and powerful, was trembling.

“I cannot do it, Lestat,” he said again, and all his soul seemed to come out in the words. “I can’t help you!”

“What in the name of God are you saying to me!” I demanded. “I made you. You exist tonight because of me! You love me, you spoke those very words to me. Of course you will help me.”

I rushed towards him, slamming my hands down on the desk and looking into his face.

“Louis, answer me! What do you mean, you can’t do it!”

“Oh, I don’t blame you for what you’ve done. I don’t. But can’t you see what’s happened? Lestat, you have done it. You have been reborn a mortal man.”

“Louis, this is no time to sentimentalize the transformation. Don’t throw my own words back at me! I was wrong.”

“No. You weren’t wrong.”

“What are you trying to tell me! Louis, we are wasting time. I have to go after that monster! He has my body.”

“Lestat, the others will deal with him. Perhaps they already have.”

“Already have! What do you mean, already have!”

“Don’t you think they know what’s happened?” He was deeply distressed but also angry. How the human lines of expression appeared and disappeared in his supple flesh as he spoke. “How could such a thing have taken place without their knowing?” he said, as if he were pleading with me to understand. “You spoke of this Raglan James as a sorcerer. But no sorcerer can veil himself entirely from creatures as powerful as Maharet or her sister, as powerful as Khayman and Marius, or even Armand. And what a clumsy sorcerer—to murder your mortal agent in such a bloody and cruel way.” He shook his head, his hands suddenly pressed to his lips. “Lestat, they know! They must know. And it could well be that your body has already been destroyed.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You surrendered an engine of destruction to this demon—”

“But he didn’t know how to use it! It was only for thirty-six hours of mortal time! Louis, whatever the case, you must give me the blood. Lecture me afterwards. Work the Dark Trick and I’ll find the answers to all these questions. We’re wasting precious minutes, hours.”

“No, Lestat. We are not. That’s my entire point! The question of this Body Thief and the body he stole from you isn’t what must concern us here. It’s what’s happening to you—your soul—in this body now.”

“All right. Have it your way. Now make this body a vampire now.”

“I can’t. Or more truly, I will not.”

I rushed at him. I couldn’t prevent myself. And in an instant I had both hands on the lapels of his miserable dusty black coat. I pulled at the cloth, ready to tear him up and out of the chair, but he remained absolutely unmovable, looking at me quietly, his face still stricken and sad. In impotent fury, I let go of him, and stood there, trying to still the confusion in my heart.

“You can’t mean what you’re saying!” I pleaded, slamming my fists again on the desk in front of him. “How can you deny me this?”

“Will you let me be one who loves you now?” he asked, his voice once again infused with emotion, his face still deeply and tragically sad.
“I wouldn’t do it no matter how great your misery, no matter how strongly you pleaded, no matter what awful litany of events you set down before me. I wouldn’t do it because I will not make another one of us for any reason under God. But you have brought me no great misery! You are not beset by any awful litany of disasters!” He shook his head, overcome as if he couldn’t continue, and then: “You have triumphed in this as only you could.”

“No, no, you’re not understanding … ”

“Oh, yes, I am. Do I need to push you in front of a mirror?” He rose slowly from behind the desk and faced me eye-to-eye. “Must I sit you down and make you examine the lessons of the tale I’ve heard from your own lips? Lestat, you have fulfilled our dream! Don’t you see it. You have done it. You have been reborn a mortal man. A strong and beautiful mortal man!”

“No,” I said. I backed away from him, shaking my head, my hands up to implore him. “You’re mad. You don’t know what you’re saying. I loathe this body! I loathe being human. Louis, if you have an ounce of compassion in you throw aside these delusions and listen to my words!”

“I’ve heard you. I’ve heard it all. Why can’t you hear it? Lestat, you’ve won. You’re free from the nightmare. You’re alive again.”

“I’m miserable!” I cried at him. “Miserable! Dear God, what must I do to convince you?”

“There is nothing. It is I who must convince you. What have you lived in this body? Three? Four days? You speak of discomforts as if they were deathly afflictions; you talk of physical limits as if they were malicious and punitive restraints.

“And yet through all your endless complaining, you yourself have told me that I must refuse you! You yourself have implored me to turn you away! Lestat, why did you tell me the story of David Talbot and his obsessions with God and the Devil? Why tell me all the things that the nun Gretchen said to you? Why describe the little hospital you saw in your fever dream? Oh, I know it wasn’t Claudia who came to you. I don’t say God put this woman Gretchen in your path. But you love this woman. By your own admission, you love her. She’s waiting for you to return. She can be your guide through the pains and annoyances of this mortal life—”

“No, Louis, you’ve misunderstood everything. I don’t want her to guide me. I don’t want this mortal life!”

“Lestat, can’t you see the chance you’ve been given? Can’t you see the path laid out for you and the light ahead?”

“I’m going to go mad if you don’t stop saying these things … ”

“Lestat, what can any of us do to redeem ourselves? And who has been more obsessed with this very question than you?”

“No, no!” I threw my arms up and crossed them, back and forth, repeatedly, as if trying to head off this dump truck of mad philosophy which was driving right down upon me. “No! I tell you, this is false. This is the worst of all lies.”

He turned away from me, and again I rushed at him, unable to stop myself, and would have grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken him, but with a gesture too quick for my eye, he hurled me backwards against the chair.

Stunned, one ankle painfully twisted, I fell down on the cushions, and then made my right hand into a fist and drove it into the palm of my left. “Oh, no, not sermons, not now.” I was almost weeping. “Not platitudes and pious recommendations.”

“Go back to her,” he said.

“You’re mad!”

“Imagine it,” he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken, his back turned to me, his eyes fixed perhaps on the distant window, his voice almost inaudible, his dark form outlined against the running silver of the rain. “All the years of inhuman craving, of sinister and remorseless feeding. And you are reborn. And there—in that little jungle hospital you could conceivably save a human life for every one you’ve ever taken. Oh, what guardian angels look over you. Why are they so merciful? And you come to me and you beg me to bring you back into this horror, yet with every word you affirm the splendour of all you’ve suffered and seen.”

“I bare my soul to you and you use it against me!”

“Oh, I do not, Lestat. I seek to make you look into it. You are begging me to drive you back to Gretchen. Am I perhaps the only guardian angel? Am I the only one who can confirm this fate?”

“You miserable bastard son of a bitch! If you don’t give me the blood … ”

He turned around, his face like that of ghost, eyes wide and
hideously unnatural in their beauty. “I will not do it. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever. Go back to her, Lestat. Live this mortal life.”

“How dare you make this choice for me!” I was on my feet again, and finished with whining and begging.

“Don’t come at me again,” he said patiently. “If you do, I shall hurt you. And that I don’t wish to do.”

“Ah, you’ve killed me! That’s what you’ve done. You think I believe all your lies! You’ve condemned me to this rotting, stinking, aching body, that’s what you’ve done! You think I don’t know the depth of hatred in you, the true face of retribution when I see it! For the love of God, speak the truth.”

“It isn’t the truth. I love you. But you are blind with impatience now, and overwrought with simple aches and pains. It is you who will never forgive me if I rob you of this destiny. Only it will take time for you to see the true meaning of what I’ve done.”

“No, no, please.” I came towards him, only this time not in anger. I approached slowly, until I could lay my hands on his shoulders and smell the faint fragrance of dust and the grave that clung to his clothes. Lord God, what was our skin that it drew the light to itself so exquisitely? And our eyes. Ah, to look into his eyes.

“Louis,” I said. “I want you to take me. Please, do as I ask you. Leave the interpretations of all my tales to me. Take me, Louis, look at me.” I snatched up his cold, lifeless hand and laid it on my face. “Feel the blood in me, feel the heat. You want me, Louis, you know you do. You want me, you want me in your power the way I had you in my power so long, long ago. I’ll be your fledgling, your child, Louis. Please, do this. Don’t make me beg you on my knees.”