by Anne Rice
"No, I never do unless... I have to."
"Have it your way. I think you're a thief." He leant forward, eyes glittering again, as the soothing measured words continued: "You steal the blood you drink, you can't argue with that."
"What actually happened with you and the Talamasca?" I asked.
"I told you," he said. "The Talamasca threw me out. I was accused of using my gifts to gain information for personal use. I was accused of deception. And of stealing, of course. They were very foolish and shortsighted, your friends in the Talamasca. They underestimated me completely. They should have valued me. They should have studied me. They should have begged me to teach them the things I know.
"Instead they gave me the boot. Six months' severance. A pittance. And they refused my last request for first-class passage to America on the Queen Elizabeth 2. It would have been so simple for them to grant my wish. They owed me that much, after the things I'd revealed to them. They should have done it." He sighed, and glanced at me, and then at his coffee. "Little things like that matter in this world. They matter very much."
I didn't reply. I looked down at the picture again, at the figure on the deck of the ship, but I'm not sure he took notice of it. He was staring off into the noisy glare of the cafe, eyes dancing over walls and ceiling and occasional tourists and taking note of none.
"I tried to bargain with them," he said, voice soft and measured as before. "If they wanted a few items returned or a few questions answered-you know. But they wouldn't hear of it, not them! And money means nothing to them, no more than it means to you. They were too mean-spirited to even consider it. They gave me a tourist-class plane ticket, and a check for six months' pay. Six months' pay! Oh, I am so very weary of all the little ups and downs!"
"What made you think you could outwit them?"
"I did outwit them," he said, eyes flashing with a little smile. "They're not very careful with their inventories. They have no idea really how many of their little treasures I managed to appropriate. They'll never guess. Of course you were the real theft-the secret that you existed. Ah, discovering that little vault full of relics was such a stroke of good luck. Understand, I didn't take anything of your old possessions-rotted frock coats from your very closets in New Orleans, parchments with your fancy signature, why, there was even a locket with a painted miniature of that accursed little child-"
"Watch your tongue," I whispered.
He went quiet. "I'm sorry. I meant no offense, truly."
"What locket?" I asked, Could he hear the sudden racing of my heart? I tried to still it, to keep the warmth from rising again in my face.
How meek he looked as he answered. "A gold locket on a chain, little oval miniature inside. Oh, I didn't steal it. I swear to you. I left it there. Ask your friend Talbot. It's still in the vault."
I waited, commanding my heart to be still, and banishing all images of that locket from my mind. Then: "The point is, the Talamasca caught you and they put you out."
"You don't have to continue insulting me," he said humbly.
"It's entirely possible for us to make our little bargain without any unpleasantness. I'm very sorry that I mentioned this locket, I didn't-"
"I want to think over your proposition," I said.
"That might be a mistake."
"Why?"
"Give it a chance! Act quickly. Act now. And remember, please, if you harm me, you'll throw away this opportunity forever. I'm the only key to this experience; use me or you'll never know what it's like to be a human being again." He drew close to me, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. "You'll never know what it's like to walk in the sunlight, to enjoy a full meal of real food, to make love to a woman or a man."
"I want you to leave here now. Get out of this city and never come back. I'll come to you at this address in Georgetown when I'm ready. And it won't be for a week this switch.
Not the first time at any rate. It will be . . ."
"May I suggest two days?"
I didn't answer.
"What if we start with one day?" he asked. "If you like it, then we can arrange for a longer time?"
"One day," I said, my voice sounding very strange to me. "One period of twenty-four hours ... for the first time."
"One day and two nights," he said quietly. "Let me suggest this coming Wednesday, as soon after sunset as you like. We shall make the second switch early on Friday, before dawn."
I didn't reply.
"You have this evening and tomorrow evening to make your preparations," he said coaxingly. "After the switch you will have all of Wednesday night and the full day Thursday. Of course you'll have Thursday night as well up until... shall we say, two hours before Friday's sunrise? That ought to be comfortable enough."
He studied me keenly, then became more anxious: "Oh, and bring one of your passports with you. I don't care which one. But I want a passport, and a bit of credit plastic, and money in my pockets over and above the ten million. You understand?"
I didn't say anything.
"You know this will work."
Again, I didn't answer.
"Believe me, all I've told you is true. Ask Talbot. I wasn't born this handsome individual you see before you. And this body is waiting right now this very minute for you."
I was quiet.
"Come to me Wednesday," he said. "You'll be very glad that you did." He paused, and then his manner became even softer. "Look, I... feel that I know you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know what you want! It's dreadful to want something and not to have it. Ah, but then to know that it's within your grasp."
I looked up slowly into his eyes. The handsome face was tranquil, devoid of any stamp of expression, and the eyes seemed rather miraculous in their fragility and their precision. The skin itself seemed supple and as if it would feel like satin to my touch. And then came the voice again, in a seductive half whisper, the words touched with sadness.
"This is something only you and I can do," he said. "In a way, it is a miracle which only you and I can understand."
The face appeared monstrous suddenly in its tranquil beauty; even the voice seemed monstrous in its lovely timbre and eloquence, so expressive of empathy and even affection, perhaps even love.
I had the urge to grab the creature by the throat; I had the urge to shake it until it lost its composure and its semblance of deep feeling, but I would not have dreamed of doing so really. I was mesmerized by the eyes and the voice. I was allowing myself to be mesmerized, the way I had allowed those earlier physical sensations of assault to sweep over me. And it occurred to me that I allowed this simply because this being seemed so very fragile and foolish and I was sure of my own strength.
But that was a He. I wanted to do this thing! I wanted to make this switch.
Only after a long while, he broke away, and let his gaze move over the cafe. Was he biding his time? What went on inside his clever conniving, and thoroughly concealed soul! A being who could steal bodies! Who could live inside another's flesh.
Slowly, he took a pen from his pocket, tore loose one of the paper napkins, and wrote down the name and address of a bank. He gave this to me and I took it and slipped it into my pocket. I didn't speak.
"Before we switch, I'll give you my passport," he said, studying me with every word.
"The one with the correct face on it, of course. I'll leave you comfortable in my house. I assume you'll have money in your pockets. You always do. You'll find it quite cozy, my house. You'll like Georgetown." His words were like soft fingers tapping the back of my hand, annoying yet vaguely thrilling. "It's quite a civilized place, an old place. Of course it is snowing there. You realize it. It's very cold. If you really don't want to do it in a cold climate-"
"I don't mind about the snow," I said under my breath.
"Yes, of course. Well, I'll be sure to leave you quite a few winter garments," he said in the same conciliatory manner.
"None of those details matter," I said. What a fool he was to think that they did
. I could feel my heart skipping beats.
"Oh, I don't know about that," he said. "When you're human you might find that a lot of things matter."
To you, perhaps, I thought. All that matters to me is to be in that body, and to be alive. In my mind's eye, I saw the snow of that last winter in the Auvergne. I saw the sun spilling down on the mountains... I saw the little priest from the village church, shivering in the great hall as he complained to me about the wolves coming down into the village at night. Of course I would hunt down the wolves. It was my duty.
I didn't care whether he'd read these thoughts or not.
"Ah, but don't you want to taste good food? Don't you want to drink good wine? What about a woman, or a man, for that matter? You'll need money and pleasant accommodations, of course."
I didn't reply. I saw the sun on the snow. I let my eyes move slowly to his face. I thought how curiously graceful he seemed in this new mode of persuasiveness, how very like David, indeed.
He was about to go on with his talk of luxuries when I gestured for silence.
"All right," I said. "I think you'll see me on Wednesday. Shall we say an hour after dark? Oh, and I must warn you. This fortune often million dollars. It will only be available to you for two hours on Friday morning. You'll have to appear in person to claim it." And here I touched his shoulder lightly. "This person, of course."
"Of course. I'm looking forward to it."
"And you'll need a code word to complete the transaction. And you'll only learn the code word from me when you return my body as agreed."
"No. No code words. The transfer of funds must be complete and irrevocable before the bank closes on Wednesday afternoon. All I have to do the following Friday is appear before the representative, allow him to take my fingerprint if you insist upon it, and then he will sign the money over to me."
I was quiet, thinking it over.
"After all, my handsome friend," he said, "what if you don't like your day as a human being? What if you don't feel you've gotten your money's worth?" •
"I'll get my money's worth," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
"No," he said patiently but insistently. "No code words."
I studied him. He smiled at me, and he appeared almost innocent and truly young. Good Lord, it must have meant something to him, this youthful vigor. How could it not have dazzled him, at least for a while? In the beginning, perhaps, he must have thought he'd attained everything that he could ever want.
"Not by a long shot!" he said suddenly, as if he couldn't stop the words from slipping out of his mouth.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Let me tell you a little secret about youth," he said with sudden coldness. "Bernard Shaw said it was wasted on the young, you remember that clever overrated little remark?"
"Yes."
"Well, it isn't. The young know how difficult and truly dreadful youth can be. Their youth is wasted on everyone else, that's the horror. The young have no authority, no respect."
"You're mad," I said. "I don't think you use what you steal very well. How could you not thrill to the sheer stamina? Glory in the beauty you see reflected in the eyes of those who look at you everywhere you go?"
He shook his head. "That's for you to enjoy," he said. "The body's young the way you've always been young. You will thrill to the stamina of it, as you say. You will glory in all those loving looks." He broke off. He took the final sip of his coffee and stared into the cup,
"No code words," he said politely.
"Very well."
"Ah, good," he said with a full warm smile of amazing brightness. "Remember I offered you a week for this sum," he said. "It's your decision to take one full day. Perhaps after you've had a taste you'll want a much longer time."
"Perhaps so," I said. Again, I was distracted by the sight of him, by the sight of the large warm hand which he covered now with the glove.
"And another switch will cost you another handsome sum," he said merrily, all smiles now, as he arranged his scarf within his lapels.
"Yes, of course."
"Money really doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" he asked, thoughtfully.
"Nothing at all." How tragic for you, I thought, that it means so much.
"Well, perhaps I should take my leave now, and allow you to make your preparations. I shall see you Wednesday as planned."
"Don't try to run out on me," I said in a low voice, leaning forward slightly, and then lifting my hand and touching his face.
The gesture clearly startled him; he became motionless, like an animal in the wood who suddenly sensed danger where there had been none before. But his expression remained calm, and I let my fingers rest against his smoothly shaven skin.
Then I moved them down slowly, feeling the firmness of his jawbone, and then I placed my hand on his neck. Here, too, the razor had passed, leaving its faint dark shadow; the skin was firm, surprisingly muscular, and a clean, youthful scent rose from it as I saw the sweat break out on his forehead, as I saw his lips move in a surprisingly graceful smile.
"Surely you enjoyed being young just a little," I said under my breath.
He smiled, as if he knew just how radiant and seductive the smile could be.
"I dream the dreams of the young," he said. "And they are always dreams of being older, and richer, and wiser, and stronger, don't you think?"
I gave a little laugh.
"I'll be there Wednesday night," he said with the same silver-tongued sincerity. "You can be certain of it. Come. It will happen, I promise you." He leant forward and whispered. "You will be inside this body!" And once again, he smiled in the most charming and ingratiating fashion. "You'll see."
"I want you to leave New Orleans now."
"Ah, yes, immediately," he said. And without another word, he stood up, moving back away from me, and then tried to conceal his sudden fear. "I have my ticket already," he said. "I don't like your filthy little Caribbean backwater." He made a little self- deprecating laugh, an almost pretty laugh. Then he went on as if he were a wise teacher scolding a student. "We'll talk more when you come to Georgetown. And don't try to spy on me in the meantime. I'll know it if you do. I'm too good at picking up that sort of thing. Even the Talamasca was amazed at my powers. They should have kept me in the fold! They should have studied me!" He broke off.
"I'll spy on you anyway," I said, echoing his low key and careful tone. "I don't really care whether or not you know."
He laughed again, in a low, subdued, and slightly smoldering fashion, and then gave me a little nod and rushed towards the door. He was once again the awkward, ungainly being, full of crazed excitement. And how tragic it seemed, for surely that body could move like a panther with another soul inside.
I caught him on the sidewalk, startling him, indeed scaring him half out of his powerful little psychic mind. We were almost eye-to-eye.
"What do you want to do with my body?" I asked. "I mean, besides flee from the sun every morning as if you were a nocturnal insect or a giant slug?"
"What do you think?" he said, once again playing the charming English gentleman with utter sincerity. "I want to drink blood." His eyes grew very wide, and he leaned closer. "I want to take life when I drink it. That's the point, isn't it? It's not merely the blood you steal from them, it's their lives. I've never stolen anything that valuable from anyone." He gave me a knowing smile. "The body, yes, but not the blood and the life."
I let him go, backing away from him as sharply as he'd backed away from me only a moment before. My heart was pounding, and I could feel a tremor passing through me as I stared at him, at his handsome and seemingly innocent face.
He continued to smile. "You are a thief par excellence," he said. "Every breath you take is stolen! Oh, yes, I must have your body. I must experience this. To invade the vampire files of the Talamasca was a triumph, but to possess your body, and to steal blood whilst in it! Ah, that is beyond all my finest accomplishments! You are the ultimate thief."
&nb
sp; "Get away from me," I whispered.
"Oh, come now, don't be so fastidious," he said. "You hate it when other people do it to you. You're quite privileged, Lestat de Lioncourt. You've found what Diogenes was searching for. An honest man!" Another broad smile, and then a low volley of simmering laughter, as if he couldn't contain it any longer. "I shall see you Wednesday. And you must come early. I want as much of the night as I can have."
He turned and hurried into the street, waving frantically for a taxi, and then bolting against the traffic to force his way into a cab which had just come to a stop, quite obviously, for someone else. A little argument ensued, but he won out immediately, slamming the door in the other fellow's face as the cab sped off. I saw him wink at me through the dirty window, and wave. And then he and his taxi were gone.
I was sick with confusion. I stood there unable to move. The night for all its coldness was busy and full of the mingled voices of the passing tourists, of cars slowing as they passed the square. Without intent, without words, I tried to see it as it might be in the sunshine; I tried to imagine the heavens over this spot that shocking vague blue.
Then slowly I turned up the collar of my coat.
I walked for hours. I kept hearing that beautiful cultured voice in my ears.
It's not merely the blood you steal from them, it's their lives. I've never stolen anything that valuable from anyone. The body, yes, but not the blood and the life.
I couldn't have faced Louis. I couldn't bear the thought of talking to David. And if Marius learned of this, I was finished before I'd begun. Who knew what Marius would do to me for even entertaining such an idea? And yet Marius, with all his vast experience, would know if this was truth or fancy! Ye gods, had Marius never wanted to do it himself?
At last, I went back to my apartment, and turned out the lights and sat sprawled on the soft velvet sofa, before the darkened glass wall, peering out at the city below.
Remember, please, if you harm me, you'll throw away this opportunity forever... Use me or you 'II never know what it's like to be a human being again . . . You'll never know what it's like to walk in the sunlight, to enjoy a full meal of real food, to make love to a woman or a man.
