by Rice, Anne
I laid my passport on the table before him. He reached up under his sweater, and withdrew his own from his shirt pocket and put it in my hand.
I examined it. It was American and a fake. Even the issue date of two years ago was fake. Raglan James. Age twenty-six. Correct picture. Good picture. This Georgetown address.
He was studying the American passport—also a fake—which I had given him.
“Ah, your tanned skin! You had this prepared specially … Must have been last night.”
I didn’t bother to answer.
“How very clever of you,” he said, “and what a good picture.” He studied it. “Clarence Oddbody. Wherever did you come up with a name like that?”
“A little private joke. What does it matter? You’ll have it only tonight and tomorrow night.” I shrugged.
“True. Very true.”
“I’ll expect you back here early Friday morning, between the hours of three and four.”
“Excellent.” He started to put the passport into his pocket and then caught himself with a sharp laugh. Then his eyes fixed on me and a look of pure delight passed over him. “Are you ready?”
“Not quite.” I took a wallet of money out of my pocket, opened it, and slipped out about half of the bills inside and gave them to him.
“Ah, yes, the petty cash, how considerate of you to remember,” he said. “I’m forgetting all the important details in my excitement. Inexcusable and you are such a gentleman.”
He gathered up the bills and once again caught himself before he could stuff them in his pockets. He put them back on the table and smiled.
I laid my hand on the wallet. “The rest is for me, once we make the switch. I trust you’re comfortable with the amount I’ve given you? The little thief in you won’t be tempted to scoop up what’s left?”
“I’ll do my best to behave myself,” he said good-naturedly. “Now, do you want me to change clothes? I stole these garments especially for you.”
“They’re fine.”
“Should I empty my bladder, perhaps? Or would you like the privilege?”
“I would.”
He nodded. “I’m hungry. I thought you’d like it that way. There’s an excellent restaurant down the street. Paolo’s. Good spaghetti carbonara. Even in the snow you can walk it.”
“Marvelous. I’m not hungry. I thought that would be easier for you. You spoke of a car. Where is the car?”
“Oh, yes, the car. Outside, to the left of the front steps. Red Porsche roadster, thought you’d like that. Here are the keys. But be careful …”
“Of what?”
“Well, the snow obviously, you might not be able to move it at all.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Don’t want you to be hurt. It could cost me twenty million if you’re not here Friday as planned. Nevertheless the driver’s license with the correct picture is in the desk in the living room. What’s the matter?”
“Clothes for you,” I said. “I forgot to provide them, other than what I have on.”
“Oh, I thought of that a long time ago, when I was snooping about in your hotel room in New York. I have my wardrobe, you needn’t worry, and I like that black velvet suit. You do dress beautifully. Always did, didn’t you? But then you come from a time of such lavish costumes. This age must seem awfully dreary to you. Are those antique buttons? Ah, well, I’ll have time to examine them.”
“Where will you be going?”
“Where I want to go, of course. Are you losing your nerve?”
“No.”
“Know how to drive the car?”
“Yes. If I didn’t, I’d figure it out.”
“Think so? Think you’ll have your preternatural intelligence when you’re in this body? I wonder. I’m not sure you will. The little synapses in the mortal brain might not fire off so fast.”
“I don’t know anything about synapses,” I said.
“All right. Let’s begin, then,” he said.
“Yes, now, I think.” My heart turned to a small, tight knot inside me, but his manner became completely authoritative and commanding at once.
“Listen closely,” he said. “I want you to rise out of your body, but not till I’m finished speaking. You’ll move up. You’ve done it before. When you are close to the ceiling and looking directly down on both of us at this table, you will make a concentrated effort to move into this body. You must not think of anything else. You must not let fear interrupt your concentration. You must not wonder as to how this is being done. You want to descend into this body, you want to connect completely and instantaneously with every fiber and cell. Picture it as you do it! Imagine yourself already inside.”
“Yes, I follow you.”
“As I’ve told you, there is something invisible in it, something left from the original occupant, and that something is hungry to be complete again—with your soul.”
I nodded. He went on.
“You may be prey to a variety of unpleasant sensations. This body will feel very dense to you, and constricting as you slide in. Don’t waver. Imagine your spirit invading the fingers of each hand, the toes of each foot. Look through the eyes. That is most important. Because the eyes are part of the brain. When you look through them, you are anchoring within the brain. Now you won’t shake loose, you can be sure of it. Once you’re in, it will take quite a bit of effort to get out.”
“Will I see you in spirit form while we’re changing?”
“No, you won’t. You could, but that would take a great deal of concentration away from your immediate goal. You don’t want to see anything but this body; you want to get in it and start moving it and breathing through it, and seeing through it, as I’ve said.”
“Yes.”
“Now, one thing which will frighten you is the sight of your own body, lifeless, or inhabited finally by me. Don’t allow this to get the better of you. Here a certain trust and humility must play a part. Believe me when I say that I shall accomplish the possession without injury to your body, and then I shall leave immediately, so as to relieve you of that constant reminder of what we’ve done. You won’t see me again until Friday morning, as we’ve agreed. I won’t speak to you, because the sound of my voice coming out of your mouth would upset you, distract you. You understand?”
“How will your voice sound? How will my voice sound?”
Once more he looked at his watch, then back at me. “There’ll be differences,” he said. “The size of the voice box is different. This man, for example, gave a slight depth to my voice which I don’t ordinarily possess. But you’ll keep your rhythm, your accent, your patterns of speech, of course. Only the timbre will be different. Yes, that’s the word.”
I took a long careful look at him.
“Is it important that I believe this can be done?”
“No,” he said with a broad smile. “This isn’t a séance. You needn’t stoke the fire for the medium with your faith. You’ll see in an instant. Now what else is there to say?” He tensed, coming forward in the chair.
The dog gave a sudden deep growl.
I quieted him with my outstretched hand.
“Go on!” said James sharply, voice dropping to a whisper. “Go out of your body now!”
I sat back, gesturing again for the dog to be still. Then I willed myself to rise, and felt a sudden total vibration through my entire frame. Then came the marvelous realization that I was indeed rising, a spirit form, weightless and free, my manly shape still visible to me with its arms and legs, stretching out just below the white ceiling, so that I did indeed look down and see the astounding spectacle of my own body seated still in the chair. Oh, what a glorious feeling, as if I could go anywhere in an instant! As if I had no need of the body, and my link to it had been a deception from the moment of birth.
The physical body of James slumped forward ever so slightly, and his fingers began to move outward on the white tabletop. I mustn’t become distracted. The switch was the thing!
&n
bsp; “Down, down into that body!” I said aloud, but there was no voice audible, and then without words I forced myself to plummet and merge with that new flesh, that physical form.
A loud rushing filled my ears, and then a sense of constriction, as if my entire self were being forced through a narrow, slippery tube. Excruciating! I wanted freedom. But I could feel myself filling the empty arms and legs, the flesh heavy and tingling as it closed over me, as a mask of similar sensations closed over my face.
I struggled to open my eyes before I even realized what I was doing, that I was flexing the lids of this mortal body, that indeed, I was blinking, staring through mortal eyes into the dimly lighted room, staring at my old body exactly opposite, at my old blue eyes peering back at me through the violet-colored glasses, staring at my old tanned skin.
I felt I would suffocate—I had to escape this!—but it hit me, I was in! I was in the body! The switch had been done. Irresistibly I took a deep hoarse heavy breath, moving this monstrous encasement of flesh as I did so, and then I slapped my hand to my chest, appalled at its thickness, and heard the heavy wet sloshing of the blood through my heart.
“Dear God, I’m in it,” I cried out, struggling to clear away the darkness that surrounded me, the shadowy veil which stopped me from seeing more clearly the brilliant form opposite, which now sprang to life.
My old body jerked upward, arms thrown up as if in horror, one hand crashing into the overhead light and exploding the bulb, as the chair below clattered to the floor. The dog leapt to his feet and gave out a loud, menacing riff of deep-throated barks.
“No, Mojo, down, boy,” I heard myself crying from this thick tight mortal throat, still straining to see in the darkness, and unable to do it, and realizing that it was my hand grabbing for the dog’s collar and jerking him backwards before he could attack the old vampire body, which stared down at the dog in utter amazement, blue eyes glittering fiercely, and very wide and blank.
“Ah, yes, kill it!” came the voice of James, roaring at horrific volume out of my old preternatural mouth.
My hands shot to my ears to protect me from the sound. The dog rushed forward again, and once again, I grabbed him by the collar, fingers curling painfully around the chain links, appalled at his strength and how little there seemed to be in my mortal arms. Ye gods, I had to make this body work! This was only a dog, and I was a strong mortal man!
“Stop, Mojo!” I pleaded with him as he dragged me right out of the chair and painfully onto my knees. “And you, get out of here!” I bellowed. The pain in my knees was dreadful. The voice was puny and opaque. “Get out!” I yelled again.
The creature that had been me danced past me, arms flailing still, and crashed into the back door, shattering the windowpanes, and letting in a cold gust of wind. The dog was maddened and now almost impossible for me to control.
“Get out!” I screamed again, and watched in consternation as the creature backed straight through the door now, shattering wood and all remaining glass, and rose off the porch boards into the snow-filled night.
I saw him for one last instant, suspended in midair above the back steps, a hideous apparition, the snow swirling about him, his limbs moving now in concert as though he were a swimmer in an invisible sea. His blue eyes were still wide and senseless, as if he couldn’t work the preternatural flesh around them into an expression, and glittering like two incandescent gems. His mouth—my old mouth—was spread wide in a meaningless grin.
Then he was gone.
The breath went out of me. The room was freezing as the wind gusted into every corner, knocking about the copper pots on their fancy rack and pushing against the dining room door. And suddenly the dog became quiet.
I realized I was sitting on the floor beside him, and that my right arm was locked around his neck, and my left around his furry chest. Each breath I took hurt me, I was squinting against the snow, which flew right into my eyes, and I was trapped in this strange body padded with lead weights and mattress ticking, and the cold air was stinging my face and my hands.
“Good God, Mojo,” I whispered in his soft pink ear. “Good God, it’s happened. I’m a mortal man.”
ELEVEN
“All right,” I said stupidly, again amazed at the weak, contained sound of it, low as the voice was. “It’s begun, now get ahold of yourself.” And that idea made me laugh.
The cold wind was the worst part. My teeth were chattering. The stinging pain in my skin was wholly different from the pain I felt as a vampire. Had to repair this door, but I had no idea whatsoever how to do it.
Was there anything left of the door? I couldn’t tell. It was like trying to see through a cloud of noxious smoke. Slowly I climbed to my feet, at once aware of the increase in height and feeling very top-heavy and unsteady.
Every bit of warmth had fled the room. Indeed, I could hear the whole house rattling with the wind that was pouring in. Slowly and carefully, I stepped out on the porch. Ice. My feet went sliding to the right of me, flinging me back against the doorframe. Panic seized me, but I managed to grab hold of the moist wood with these large trembling fingers, and keep myself from going down the steps. Again I strained to see through the darkness, and couldn’t make out anything clearly at all.
“Just calm down,” I said to myself, aware that my fingers were sweating and growing numb at the same time, and that my feet were becoming painfully numb also. “There’s no artificial light here, that’s all, and you’re looking through mortal eyes. Now do something intelligent about all this!” And stepping very carefully, and nearly slipping again, I moved back inside.
I could see the dim outline of Mojo seated there, watching me, panting noisily, and there was a tiny splinter of light in one of his dark eyes. I spoke to him gently.
“It’s me, Mojo Man, okay? It’s me!” And I stroked the soft hair between his ears gently. I reached for the table, and sat down in the chair very awkwardly, astonished again at the sheer thickness of my new flesh, and the sloshiness of it, and I clamped my hand over my mouth.
It really has happened, you fool, I thought. There’s no doubt of it. It’s a lovely miracle, that’s what it is. You are actually free of that preternatural body! You are a human being. You are a human man. Now be done with this panic. Think like the hero you pride yourself on being! There are practical matters at hand. The snow’s coming in on you. This mortal body is freezing, for the love of heaven. Now attend to things as you must!
Yet all I did was open my eyes wider, and stare at what seemed to be the snow piling up in little sparkling crystals on the white surface of the table, expecting every moment that this vision would become more distinct, when of course it would not.
That was spilt tea, wasn’t it? And broken glass. Don’t cut yourself on the broken glass, you won’t heal! Mojo moved closer to me, big warm furry flank welcome against my trembling leg. But why did the feeling seem so distant, as if I were wrapped in layers of flannel? Why could I not smell his wondrous clean woolly smell? All right, senses are limited. You should have expected that.
Now, go look in a mirror; see the miracle. Yes, and just close off this entire room.
“Come on, boy,” I said to the dog, and we went out of the kitchen into the dining room—each step I took feeling awkward and slow and lumbering—and with fumbling, very inexact fingers, I closed the door. The wind banged against it, and seeped around the edges of it, but the door held.
I turned around, off balance for a second, then righting myself. Shouldn’t be so hard to get the knack of this, for the love of heaven! I settled back on my feet, and then looked down at them, amazed at how very large they were, and then at my hands, which were quite big too. But not bad-looking, no, not bad-looking. Don’t panic! The watch was uncomfortable, but I needed it. All right, keep the watch. But the rings? Definitely didn’t want them on my fingers. Itching. Wanted to pull them off. Couldn’t! They wouldn’t come. Lord God.
Now, stop. You’re going to go mad because you can’t pull these ri
ngs off your fingers. That’s foolish. Just slow down. There’s such a thing as soap, you know. Soap your hands, these big dark freezing-cold hands, and off the rings will come.
I crossed my arms and eased my hands around my sides, appalled at the feeling of the slippery human sweat beneath my shirt, nothing like blood sweat, and then I took a slow deep breath, ignoring the heavy ponderous feeling of my chest, the raw feeling of the very act of inhaling and exhaling, and I forced myself to look at the room.
This was not the time to scream in terror. Now, just look at the room.
It was very dim. One floor lamp burned, in a far corner, and another tiny lamp on the mantel, but it was still terribly dim. It seemed I was under water and the water was murky, maybe even clouded with ink.
This is normal. This is mortal. This is how they see. But how grim it all looked, how partial, having nothing of the open spatial qualities of the rooms through which a vampire moved.
How hideously gloomy, the dark gleaming chairs, the table barely visible, the dull gold light creeping up into the corners, the plaster moldings at the tops of the walls vanishing into shadow, impenetrable shadow, and how frightening the empty blackness of the hall.
Anything could have been hiding in these shadows—a rat, anything. There might have been another human being in that hall. I looked down at Mojo and was amazed again at how very indistinct he looked, how mysterious in a wholly different way. That was it, things lost their contours in this sort of dimness. Impossible really to gauge their full texture or size.
Ah, but there was the mirror above the mantel.
I went to it, frustrated by the heaviness of my limbs and by a sudden fear of stumbling, and a need to look more than once at my feet. I moved the little lamp under the mirror, and then I looked at my face.
Ah, yes. I was behind it now, and how amazingly different it looked. Gone were the tightness, and the awful nervous glitter of the eyes. There was a young man staring at me, and he looked more than a little afraid.
