which won me over to accept her utterly, rather than keep her at a remove, the evidence of my awful guilt. It was now close to morning. We had only a couple of hours left. Lestat wanted to use this time to give Merrick his power.
But before we disbanded, Lestat turned to Louis and asked a question which mattered to us all.
'When the sun rose,' he said, 'when you saw it, when it burnt you before you were unconscious, what did you see?' Louis stared at Lestat for some few minutes, his face blank, as it always becomes when he is in a state of high emotion, and then his features softened, his brows knitted, and there came the dreaded tears to his eyes.
'Nothing,' he said. He bowed his head, but then he looked up helplessly. 'Nothing. I saw nothing and I felt that there was nothing. I felt it—empty, colorless, timeless. Nothing. That I had ever lived in any shape seemed unreal.' His eyes were shut tight, and he brought up his hand to hide his face from us. He was weeping. 'Nothing,' he said. 'Nothing at all.'
25
NO AMOUNT of blood from Lestat could make Merrick his equal. No amount could make any of us his equal. But by the relentless blood exchange, Merrick was immensely enhanced.
And so we formed a new coven, lively, and delighted in each other's company, and excusing each other all past sins. With every passing hour, Lestat became more the old creature of action and impulse which I had loved for so long. Do I believe that Merrick brought me to herself with a spell? I do not. I do not believe that my reason is so susceptible, but what am I to make of Oncle Vervain's designs?
Quite deliberately, I put the matter away from my thoughts, and I embraced Merrick as truly as I ever had, even though I had to endure the sight of her fascination for Louis, and the fascination which he held for her. I had Lestat again, did I not?
It was two nights later—nights of no remarkable events or achievements, except for Merrick's ever increasing experience—that I put the question to him that had so troubled me about his long sleep. He was in the beautifully appointed front parlor in the Rue Royale, looking quite wonderful in his sleekly cut black velvet, what with cameo buttons, no less, and his handsome yellow hair shimmering as it ought to do in the familiar light of his numerous lamps.
'Your long slumber frightened me,' I confessed. 'There were times when I could have sworn you were no longer in the body. Of course I talk again of a form of hearing denied to me as your pupil. But I speak of a human instinct in me which is quite strong.'
I went on telling him how it had so completely unnerved me to see him thus, to be unable to rouse him, and to fear that his soul had taken to wandering and might not return.
He was silent for some moments, and I thought for a split second that I saw a shadow fall over his face. Then he gave me a warm smile and gestured for me to worry no more.
'Maybe some night I'll tell you about it,' he said. 'For now let me say that there was some truth in your conjecture. I wasn't always there.' He broke off, thinking, even whispering something which I couldn't hear. Then he went on. 'As for where I was, I can't now explain it. But again, maybe some night, to you, above all others, I will try.' My curiosity was dreadfully aroused and for a moment I was maddened by him, but when he began to laugh at me, I remained silent.
'I won't go back to my slumber,' he said finally. He became quite sober and convincing. 'I want you all to be assured of it. Years have passed since Memnoch came to me. You might say it took all my reserve to weather that terrible ordeal. As for the time when I was waked before by Sybelle's music, I was more nearly close to all of you than I came to be some time later on.'
'You tease me with hints that something happened to you,' I said.
'Perhaps it did,' he answered, his vacillations and his playful tone infuriating me. 'Perhaps it did not. David, how am I to know? Be patient. We have each other now again, and Louis has ceased to be the emblem of our discontent. Believe me, I'm happy for that.'
I smiled and I nodded, but the mere thought of Louis brought to mind the gruesome sight of his burnt remains in the casket. It had been the living proof that the quiet omnipotent glory of the daily sun would never shine upon me again. It had been the living proof that we can perish so very easily, that all the mortal world is a lethal enemy during those hours between dawn and dusk.
'I've lost so much time,' Lestat remarked in his habitual energetic fashion, eyes moving about the room. 'There are so many books I mean to read, and things I mean to see. The world's around me again. I'm where I belong.' I suppose we might have spent a quiet evening after that, both of us reading, both of us enjoying the comfort of those lushly domestic Impressionist paintings, if Merrick and Louis had not come so suddenly up the iron stairs and down the corridor to the front room.
Merrick had not given up her penchant for shirtwaisted dresses and she looked splendid in her dark-green silk. She led the way, the more reticent Louis coming behind her. They both sat upon the brocade sofa opposite, and straightaway Lestat asked:
'What's wrong?'
'The Talamasca,' said Merrick. 'I think it's wise to leave New Orleans. I think we should do it at once.'
'That's sheer nonsense,' said Lestat immediately. 'I won't hear of it.' At once his face was flushed with expression.
'I've never been afraid of mortals in my life. I have no fear of the Talamasca.'
'Perhaps you should have,' said Louis. 'You must listen to the letter which Merrick has received.'
'What do you mean, 'received?'' asked Lestat crossly. 'Merrick, you didn't go back to the Motherhouse! Surely you knew such a thing couldn't be done.'
'Of course I didn't, and my loyalty to the rest of you is total, don't question it,' she fired back. 'But this letter was left at my old house here in New Orleans. I found it this evening, and I don't like it, and I think it's time that we reconsider everything, though you may lay it down as my fault.'
'I won't reconsider anything,' said Lestat. 'Read it.'
As soon as she drew it out of her canvas bag, I saw it was a handdelivered missive from the Elders. It was written on a true parchment meant to stand the test of centuries, though a machine had no doubt printed it for when did the Elders ever put their own hands to what they wrote?
'Merrick,
We have learnt with great dismay about your recent experiments in the old house in which you were born. We order you to leave New Orleans as soon as you possibly can. Have no further discourse with your fellow members in the Talamasca, or with that select and dangerous company which has so obviously seduced you, and come to us in Amsterdam directly.
Your room is already prepared for you in the Motherhouse, and we expect these instructions to be obeyed. Please understand that we want, as always, to learn with you from your recent and ill-advised experiences, but there can be no miscalculation as to our admonitions. You are to break off your relations with those who can never have our sanction and you are to come to us at once.'
She laid it down in her lap.
'It bears the seal of the Elders,' she said.
I could see this wax stamp plainly.
'Why are we to care that it bears their seal,' demanded Lestat, 'or the seal of anyone else? They can't force you to come to Amsterdam. Why do you even entertain such an idea?'
'Be patient with me,' she spoke up immediately. 'I'm not entertaining any such idea. What I'm saying is that we've been carefully watched.'
Lestat shook his head. 'We've always been carefully watched. I've masqueraded as one of my own fictions for over a decade. What do I care if I'm carefully watched? I defy anyone to harm me. I always have in my fashion. I've rarely ... rarely ... been wrong.'
'But Lestat,' said Louis, leaning forward and looking him directly in the eyes. 'This means the Talamasca has made what they believe to be a sighting of us—David and me—on Merrick's premises. And that's dangerous, dangerous because it can make enemies for us among those who truly believe in what we are.'
'They don't believe it,' declared Lestat. 'No one believes it. That's what always protects us. No one believes in what we are but us.'
'You're wrong,' said Merrick before I could speak up. 'They do believe in you—.'
