The Tale of the Body Thief (44 page)

“David,” I said, as I took off the wet socks. “Speak to me. The other crimes! You said that James had left a trail.”

“It’s so wildly uncanny,” he said in a stunned voice. “I have a dozen pictures of this face. But to see you inside it. Oh, I simply couldn’t imagine it. Not at all.”

“When did this fiend strike last?”

“Ah … The last report was from the Dominican Republic. That was, let me see, two nights ago.”

“Dominican Republic! Why in the world would he go there?”

“Exactly what I would like to know. Before that he struck near Bal Harbour in Florida. Both times it was a high-rise condominium, and entry was the same as in New York—through the glass wall. Furniture smashed to pieces at all three crime scenes; wall safes ripped from their moorings; bonds, gold, jewelry taken. One man dead in New York, a bloodless corpse, of course. Two women left drained in
Florida, and a family killed in Santo Domingo, with only the father drained in classic vampire style.”

“He can’t control his strength. He’s blundering about like a robot!”

“Exactly what I thought. It was the combination of destructiveness and sheer force which first alerted me. The creature’s unbelievably inept! And the whole operation is so stupid. But what I can’t figure is why he’s chosen these locations for his various thefts.” Suddenly he broke off and turned away, almost shyly.

I realized I had stripped off all the garments and was standing there naked, and this had produced in him a strange reticence, and a near blush to his face.

“Here, dry socks,” he said. “Don’t you know better than to go about in soaking wet garments?” He tossed the socks to me without looking up.

“I don’t know much of anything,” I said. “That’s what I’ve discovered. I see what you mean about the locations. Why in the world would he journey to the Caribbean when he might steal to his heart’s content in the suburbs of Boston or New York?”

“Yes. Unless the cold is giving him considerable discomfort, but does that make sense?”

“No. He doesn’t feel it that keenly. It’s just not the same.”

It felt good to pull on the dry shirt and pants. And these garments did fit, though they were loose in a rather old-fashioned way—not the slim tailored clothes more popular with the young. The shirt was heavy broadcloth, and the tweed pants were pleated, but the waistcoat felt snug and warm.

“Here, I can’t tie this tie with mortal fingers,” I declared. “But why am I dressing up like this, David? Don’t you ever go around in anything casual, as the expression goes? Good Lord, we look like we’re going to a funeral. Why must I wear this noose around my neck?”

“Because you’ll look foolish in a tweed suit without it,” he answered in a slightly distracted voice. “Here, let me help you.” Once again, he had that shy look about him as he drew close to me. I realized that he was powerfully drawn to this body. In the old one, I had amazed him; but this body truly ignited his passion. And as I studied him closely, as I felt the busy work of his fingers on the knot of the tie—that keen little pressure—I realized that I was powerfully attracted to him.

I thought of all the times I’d wanted to take him, enfold him in my arms, and sink my teeth slowly and tenderly into his neck, and drink his blood. Ah, now I might have him in a sense without having him—in the mere human tangling with his limbs, in whatever combination of intimate gestures and delectable little embraces he might like. And I might like.

The idea paralyzed me. It sent a soft chill over the surface of my human skin. I felt
connected
to him, connected as I had been to the sad unfortunate young woman whom I’d raped, to the wandering tourists of the snow-covered capital city, my brothers and sisters—connected as I had been to my beloved Gretchen.

Indeed so strong was this awareness—of being human and being with a human—that I feared it suddenly in all its beauty. And I saw that the fear was part of the beauty.

Ah, yes, I was mortal now as he was. I flexed my fingers, and slowly straightened my back, letting the chill become a deep erotic sensation.

He broke away from me abruptly, alarmed and vaguely determined, picked up the jacket from the chair, and helped me to put it on.

“You have to tell me all that’s happened to you,” he said. “And within an hour or so we may have news from London, that is, if the bastard has struck again.”

I reached out and clamped my weak, mortal hand on his shoulder, drew him to me, and kissed him softly on the side of his face. Once again, he backed away.

“Stop all this nonsense,” he said, as if reproving a child. “I want to know everything. Now, have you had breakfast? You need a handkerchief. Here.”

“How will we get this news from London?”

“Fax from the Motherhouse to the hotel. Now come, let’s have something to eat together. We have a day of work ahead to figure this all out.”

“If he isn’t already dead,” I said with a sigh. “Two nights ago in Santo Domingo.” I was again filled with a crushing and black despair. The delicious and frustrating erotic impulse was threatened.

David removed a long wool scarf from the suitcase. He placed this around my neck.

“Can’t you call London again now by phone?” I asked.

“It’s a bit early, but I’ll give it a try.”

He found the phone beside the couch, and was in fast conversation with someone across the sea for about five minutes. No news yet.

Police in New York, Florida, and Santo Domingo were not in communication with each other, apparently, as no connections regarding these crimes had yet been made.

At last he hung up. “They’ll fax information to the hotel as soon as they receive it. Let’s go there, shall we? I myself am famished. I’ve been here all night long, waiting. Oh, and that dog. What will you do with that splendid dog?”

“He’s had breakfast. He’ll be happy in the roof garden. You’re very anxious to be out of these rooms, aren’t you? Why don’t we simply get into bed together? I don’t understand.”

“You’re serious?”

I shrugged. “Of course.” Serious! I was beginning to be obsessed with this simple little possibility. Making love before anything else happened. Seemed like a perfectly marvelous idea!

Again, he fell to staring at me in maddening trancelike silence.

“You do realize,” he said, “that this is an absolutely magnificent body, don’t you? I mean, you aren’t insensible to the fact that you’ve been deposited in a … a most impressive piece of young male flesh.”

“I looked it over well before the switch, remember? Why is it you don’t want to … ”

“You’ve been with a woman, haven’t you?”

“I wish you wouldn’t read my mind. It’s rude. Besides, what does that matter to you?”

“A woman you loved.”

“I have always loved both men and women.”

“That’s a slightly different use of the word ‘love.’ Listen, we simply can’t do it now. So behave yourself. I must hear everything about this creature James. It’s going to take us time to make a plan.”

“A plan. You really think we can stop him?”

“Of course I do!” He beckoned for me to come.

“But how?” I asked. We were going out the door.

“We must look at the creature’s behavior. We must assess his weaknesses and his strengths. And remember there are two of us against him. And we have a powerful advantage.”

“But what advantage?”

“Lestat, clear your mortal brain of all these rampant erotic images and come. I can’t think on an empty stomach, and obviously you’re not thinking straight at all.”

Mojo came padding to the gate to follow us, but I told him to stay.

I kissed him tenderly on the side of his long black nose, and he lay down on the wet concrete, and merely peered at me in solemn disappointed fashion as we went down the stairs.

I
T WAS
only a matter of several blocks to the hotel, and the walk beneath the blue sky was not intolerable, even with the biting wind. I was too cold, however, to begin my story, and also the sight of the sunlighted city kept tearing me out of my thoughts.

Once again, I was impressed with the carefree attitudes of the people who roamed by day. All the world seemed blessed in this light, regardless of the temperature. And a sadness was growing in me as I beheld it, because I really didn’t want to remain in this sunlighted world no matter how beautiful it was.

No, give me back my preternatural vision, I thought. Give me back the dark beauty of the world by night. Give me back my unnatural strength and endurance, and I shall cheerfully sacrifice this spectacle forever. The Vampire Lestat—
c’est moi
.

Stopping at the hotel desk, David left word that we would be in the coffee shop, and any fax material which came in must be brought to us at once.

Then we settled at a quiet white-draped table in the corner of the vast old-fashioned room with its fancy plaster ceiling and white silk draperies, and commenced to devour an enormous New Orleans breakfast of eggs, biscuits, fried meats, gravy, and thick buttery grits.

I had to confess that the food situation had improved with the journey south. Also I was better at eating now, and wasn’t choking so much, or scraping my tongue on my own teeth. The thick syrupy coffee of my home city was past perfection. And the dessert of broiled bananas and sugar was enough to bring any sensible human being to his knees.

But in spite of these tantalizing delights, and my desperate hope that we would soon have a report from London, my main concern was that of pouring out for David the entire woeful tale. Again, and again,
he pushed for details, and interrupted me with questions, so it became in fact a far more thorough account than I had ever given Louis, and one that wrung from me considerably more pain.

It was agony to relive my naive conversation with James in the town house, to confess that I had not cared sufficiently to be suspicious of him, that I’d been too satisfied that a mere mortal could never trick me.

And then came the shameful rape, the poignant account of my time with Gretchen, the awful nightmares of Claudia, and the parting from Gretchen to come home to Louis, who misunderstood all that I laid before him, and insisted upon his own interpretation of my words as he refused to give me what I sought.

No small part of the pain was that my anger had left me, and I felt only the old crushing grief. I saw Louis again in my mind’s eye, and he was not my tender, embraceable lover any longer, so much as an unfeeling angel who had barred me from the Dark Court.

“I understand why he refused,” I said dully, barely able to speak about it. “Perhaps I should have known. And very truly, I can’t believe he will hold out against me forever. He’s simply carried away with this sublime idea of his that I ought to go save my soul. It’s what he would do, you see. And yet, in a way, he himself would never do it. And he’s never understood me. Never. That’s why he described me so vividly yet poorly in his book over and over again. If I am trapped in this body, if it becomes quite plain to him that I don’t intend to go off into the jungles of French Guiana with Gretchen, I think he will give in to me eventually. Even though I did burn his house. It might take years, of course! Years in this miserable—”

“You’re getting furious again,” said David. “Calm down. And what in the world do you mean—you burnt his house.”

“I was angry!” I said in a tense whisper. “My God. Angry. That isn’t even the word.”

I thought I had been too unhappy to be angry. I realized this wasn’t so. But I was too unhappy to carry the point further. I took another bracing swallow of the thick black coffee and as best I could, I went on to describe how I had seen Marius by the light of the burning shack. Marius had wanted for me to see him. Marius had rendered a judgment, and I did not know truly what that judgment was.

Now the cold despair did come over me, obliterating the anger quite completely, and I stared listlessly at the plate before me, at the
half-empty restaurant with its shining silver and napkins folded at so many empty places like little hats. I looked beyond to the muted lights of the lobby, with that awful gloom closing upon everything, and then I looked at David, who for all his character, his sympathy, and his charm was not the marvelous being he would have been to me with my vampire eyes, but only another mortal, frail and living on the edge of death as I did.

I felt dull and miserable. I could say no more.

“Listen to me,” said David. “I don’t believe that your Marius has destroyed this creature. He would not have revealed himself to you if he’d done such a thing. I can’t imagine the thoughts or feelings of such a being. I can’t even imagine yours, and I know you as I know my dearest and oldest friends. But I don’t believe he would do it. He came to display his anger, to refuse assistance, and that was his judgment, yes. But I wager he’s giving you time to recover your body. And you must remember: however you perceived his expression, you saw it through a human being’s eyes.”

“I’ve considered this,” I said listlessly. “To tell the truth, what else can I do but believe that my body is still there to be reclaimed?” I shrugged. “I don’t know how to give up.”

He smiled at me, a lovely deep warm smile.

“You’ve had a splendid adventure,” he said. “Now before we plot to catch this glorified purse snatcher, allow me to ask you a question. And don’t lose your temper, please. I can see that you don’t know your own strength in this body any more than you did in the other.”

“Strength? What strength! This is a weak, flopping, sloshy, repulsive collection of nerves and ganglia. Don’t even mention the word ‘strength.’ ”

“Nonsense. You’re a big strapping healthy young male of some one hundred and ninety pounds, without an ounce of spare fat on you! You have fifty years of mortal life ahead of you. For the love of heaven, realize what advantages you possess.”

“All right. All right. It’s jolly. So happy to be alive!” I whispered, because if I hadn’t whispered, I would have howled. “And I could be smashed by a truck outside in the street at half past noon today! Good God, David, don’t you think I despise myself that I cannot endure these simple trials? I hate it. I hate being this weak and cowardly creature!”