The Tale of the Body Thief (33 page)

“That was half a century ago, chérie. Hate me for the larger things. Hate me, if you will, because you don’t lie now at her side. Would she keep you warm if you did? Blood is warm, chérie. Come with me, and drink blood, as you and I know how to do. We can drink blood together unto the end of the world.”

“Ah, you have an answer for everything.” How cold her smile. In these shadows one can almost see the woman in her, defying the permanent stamp of child sweetness, with the inevitable enticement to kiss, to hold, to love.

“We are death, ma chérie, death is the final answer.” I gathered her up in my arms, felt her tucked against me, kissed her, kissed her, and kissed her vampire skin. “There are no questions after that.”

Her hand touched my forehead.

The ambulance was speeding, as if the siren were chasing it, as if the siren were the force driving it on. Her hand touched my eyelids.
I won’t look at you!

Oh, please, help me … the dreary prayer of the devil to his cohorts, as he tumbles deeper and deeper towards hell.

Y
ES, I know where we are. You’ve been trying to bring me back here from the beginning, to the little hospital.” How forlorn it looked now, so crude with its clay walls, and wooden shuttered windows, and the little beds lashed together out of barely finished wood. Yet she was there in the bed, wasn’t she? I know the nurse, yes, and the old round-shouldered doctor, and I see you there in the bed—that’s you, the little one with the curls on the top of the blanket, and Louis there … 

All right, why am I here? I know this is a dream. It’s not death. Death has no particular regard for people.

“Are you sure?” she said. She sat on the straight-back chair, golden hair done up in a blue ribbon, and there were blue satin slippers on her small feet. So that meant she was there in the bed, and there on the chair, my little French doll, my beauty, with the high rounded insteps, and the perfectly shaped little hands.

“And you, you’re here with us and you’re in a bed in the Washington, D.C., emergency room. You know you’re dying down there, don’t you?”

“Severe hypothermia, very possibly pneumonia. But how do we know what infections we he got? Hit him with antibiotics. There’s no way we can get this man on oxygen now. If we send him to University, he’d end up in the hall there too.”

“Don’t let me die. Please … I’m so afraid.”

“We’re here with you, we’re taking care of you. Can you tell me your name? Is there some family whom we can notify?”

“Go ahead, tell them who you really are,” she said with a little silvery laugh, her voice always so delicate, so very pretty. I can feel her tender little lips, just to look at them. I used to like to press my finger
against her lower lip, playfully, when I kissed her eyelids, and her smooth forehead.

“Don’t be such a little smarty!” I said between my teeth. “Besides, who am I down there?”

“Not a human being, if that’s what you mean. Nothing could make you human.”

“All right, I’ll give you five minutes. Why did you bring me here? What do you want me to say—that I’m sorry about what I did, taking you out of that bed and making you a vampire? Well, do you want the truth, the rock-bottom deathbed truth? I don’t know if I am. I’m sorry you suffered. I’m sorry anybody has to suffer. But I can’t say for certain that I’m sorry for that little trick.”

“Aren’t you the least little bit afraid of standing by yourself like this?”

“If the truth can’t save me, nothing can.” How I hated the smell of sickness around me, of all those little bodies, feverish and wet beneath their drab coverings, the entire dingy and hopeless little hospital of so many decades ago.

“My father who art in hell, Lestat be your name.”

“And you? After the sun burnt you up in the air well in the Theatre of the Vampires, did you go to hell?”

Laughter, such high pure laughter, like glittering coins shaken loose from a purse.

“I’ll never tell!”

“Now, I know this is a dream. That’s all it’s been from the beginning. Why would someone come back from the dead to say such trivial and inane things.”

“Happens all the time, Lestat. Don’t get so worked up. I want you to pay attention now. Look at these little beds, look at these children suffering.”

“I took you away from it,” I said.

“Aye, the way that Magnus took you away from your life, and gave you something monstrous and evil in return. You made me a slayer of my brothers and my sisters. All my sins have their origin in that moment, when you reached for me and lifted me from that bed.”

“No, you can’t blame it all on me. I won’t accept it. Is the father parent to the crimes of his child? All right, so what if it is true. Who is there to keep count? That’s the problem, don’t you see? There is no one.”

“So is it right, therefore, that we kill?”

“I gave you
life
, Claudia. It wasn’t for all time, no, but it was life, and even our life is better than death.”

“How you lie, Lestat. ‘Even our life,’ you say. The truth is, you think our accursed life is
better
than life itself. Admit it. Look at you down there in your human body. How you’ve hated it.”

“It’s true. I do admit it. But now, let’s hear you speak from your heart, my little beauty, my little enchantress. Would you really have chosen death in that tiny bed rather than the life I gave you? Come now, tell me. Or is this like a mortal courtroom, where the judge can lie and the lawyers can lie, and only those on the stand must tell the truth?”

So thoughtfully she looked at me, one chubby hand playing with the embroidered hem of her gown. When she lowered her gaze the light shone exquisitely on her cheeks, on her small dark mouth. Ah, such a creation. The vampire doll.

“What did I know of choices?” she said, staring forward, eyes big and glassy and full of light. “I hadn’t reached the age of reason when you did your filthy work, and by the way, Father, I’ve always wanted to know: Did you enjoy letting me suck the blood from your wrist?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I whispered. I looked away from her to the dying waif beneath the blanket. I saw the nurse in a ragged dress, hair pinned to the back of her neck, moving listlessly from bed to bed. “Mortal children are conceived in pleasure,” I said, but I didn’t know anymore if she was listening. I didn’t want to look at her. “I can’t lie. It doesn’t matter if there is a judge or jury. I … ”

“Don’t try to talk. I’ve given you a combination of drugs that will help you. Your fever’s going down already. We’re drying up the congestion in your lungs.”

“Don’t let me die, please don’t. It’s all unfinished and it’s monstrous. I’ll go to hell if there is one, but I don’t think there is. If there is, it’s a hospital like this one, only it’s filled with sick children, dying children. But I think there’s just death.”

“A hospital full, of children?”

“Ah, look at the way she’s smiling at you, the way she puts her hand on your forehead. Women love you, Lestat. She loves you, even in that body, look at her. Such love.”

“Why shouldn’t she care about me? She’s a nurse, isn’t she? And I’m a dying man.”

“And such a beautiful dying man. I should have known you
wouldn’t do this switch unless someone offered you a beautiful body. What a vain, superficial being you are! Look at that face. Better looking than your own face.”

“I wouldn’t go that far!”

She gave me the most sly smile, her face glowing in the dim, dreary room.

“Don’t worry, I’m with you. I’ll sit right here with you until you’re better.”

“I’ve seen so many humans die. I’ve caused their deaths. It’s so simple and treacherous, the moment when life goes out of the body. They simply slip away.”

“You’re saying crazy things.”

“No, I’m telling you the truth, and you know it. I can’t say I’ll make amends if I live. I don’t think it’s possible. Yet I’m scared to death of dying. Don’t let go my hand.”

“Lestat, why are we here?”

Louis?

I looked up. He was standing in the door of the crude little hospital, confused, faintly disheveled, the way he’d looked from the night I’d made him, not the wrathful blinded young mortal anymore, but the dark gentleman with the quiet in his eyes, with the infinite patience of a saint in his soul.

“Help me up,” I said, “I have to get her from the little bed.”

He put out his hand, but he was so confused. Didn’t he share in that sin? No, of course not, because he was forever blundering and suffering, atoning for it all even as he did it. I was the devil. I was the only one who could gather her from the little bed.

Time now to lie to the doctor. “The child there, that is my child.”

And he’d be oh, so glad to have one less burden.

“Take her, monsieur, and thank you.” He looked gratefully at the gold coins as I tossed them on the bed. Surely I did that. Surely I didn’t fail to help them. “Yes, thank you. God bless you.”

I’m sure he will. He always has. I bless him too.

“Sleep now. As soon as there’s a room available, we’ll move you into it, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Why are there so many here? Please don’t leave me.”

“No, I’ll stay with you. I’ll sit right here.”

Eight o’clock. I was lying on the gurney, with the needle in my
arm, and the plastic sack of fluid catching the light so beautifully, and I could see the clock perfectly. Slowly I turned my head.

A woman was there. She wore her coat now, very black against her white stockings and her thick soft white shoes. Her hair was in a thick coil on the back of her head, and she was reading. She had a broad face, of very strong bones and clear skin, and large hazel eyes. Her eyebrows were dark and perfectly drawn, and when she looked up at me, I loved her expression. She closed the book soundlessly and smiled.

“You’re better,” she said. A rich, soft voice. A bit of bluish shadow beneath her eyes.

“Am I?” The noise hurt my ears. So many people. Doors swooshing open and shut.

She stood up and came across the corridor, and took my hand in hers.

“Oh, yes, much better.”

“Then I’ll live?”

“Yes,” she said. But she wasn’t sure. Did she mean for me to see that she wasn’t sure?

“Don’t let me die in this body,” I said, moistening my lips with my tongue. They felt so dry! Lord God, how I hated this body, hated the heave of the chest, hated even the voice coming from my lips, and the pain behind my eyes was unbearable.

“There you go again,” she said, her smile brightening.

“Sit with me.”

“I am. I told you I wouldn’t leave. I’ll stay here with you.”

“Help me and you help the devil,” I whispered.

“So you told me,” she said.

“Want to hear the whole tale?”

“Only if you stay calm as you tell me, if you take your time.”

“What a lovely face you have. What is your name?”

“Gretchen.”

“You’re a nun, aren’t you, Gretchen?”

“How did you know that?”

“I could tell. Your hands, for one thing, the little silver wedding band, and something about your face, a radiance—the radiance of those who believe. And the fact that you stayed with me, Gretchen, when the others told you to go on. I know nuns when I see them. I’m the devil and when I behold goodness I know it.”

Were those tears hovering in her eyes?

“You’re teasing me,” she said kindly. “There’s a little tag here on my pocket. It says I’m a nun, doesn’t it? Sister Marguerite.”

“I didn’t see it, Gretchen. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You’re better. Much better. I think you’re going to be all right.”

“I’m the devil, Gretchen. Oh, not Satan himself, Son of Morning, ben Sharar. But bad, very bad. Demon of the first rank, certainly.”

“You’re dreaming. It’s the fever.”

“Wouldn’t that be splendid? Yesterday I stood in the snow and tried to imagine just such a thing—that all my life of evil was but the dream of a mortal man. No such luck, Gretchen. The devil needs you. The devil’s crying. He wants you to hold his hand. You’re not afraid of the devil, are you?”

“Not if he requires an act of mercy. Sleep now. They’re coming to give you another shot. I’m not leaving. Here, I’ll bring the chair to the side of the bed so you can hold my hand.”

“What are you doing, Lestat?”

We were in our hotel suite now, much better place than that stinking hospital—I’ll take a good hotel suite over a stinking hospital anytime—and Louis had drunk her blood, poor helpless Louis
.

“Claudia, Claudia, listen to me. Come round, Claudia … You’re ill, do you hear me? You must do as I tell you to get well.” I bit through the flesh of my own wrist, and when the blood began to spill, I put it to her lips. “That’s it, dear, more … ”

“Try to drink a little of this.” She slipped her hand behind my neck. Ah, the pain when I lifted my head.

“It tastes so thin. It’s not like blood at all.”

Her lids were heavy and smooth over her downcast eyes. Like a Grecian woman painted by Picasso, so simple she seemed, large-boned and fine and strong. Had anybody ever kissed her nun’s mouth?

“People are dying here, aren’t they? That’s why the corridors are crowded. I hear people crying. It’s an epidemic, isn’t it?”

“It’s a bad time,” she said, her virginal lips barely moving. “But you’ll be all right. I’m here.”

Louis was so angry
.

“But why, Lestat?”

Because she was beautiful, because she was dying, because I wanted to see if it would work. Because nobody wanted her and she was there, and I picked her up and held her in my arms. Because it was something I could accomplish, like the little candle flame in the church making another flame
and still retaining its own light—my way of creating, my only way, don’t you see? One moment there were two of us, and then we were three
.

He was so heartbroken, standing there in his long black cloak, yet he could not stop looking at her, at her polished ivory cheeks, her tiny wrists. Imagine it, a child vampire! One of us
.