“Ah, but that’s the key. You are afraid of that surrender. You are afraid of being locked in a form from which you can’t escape. You do realize, don’t you, what it means to be flesh and blood? That you may lose your immortality? That even in the ransmutation, you could be destroyed?”
“No. I will lose nothing. And when I am created in my new form, I shall open the way for you to a new form. You’ve always known. You knew when you first heard the old legend from your kinsmen. You knew why there were twelve crypts and one door.”
“You are saying that I can be immortal.”
“Yes.”
“This is what you see?”
“This is what I have always seen. You are my perfect companion. You are the witch of all witches. You have Julien’s strength and Mary Beth’s strength. You have the beauty of Deborah and Suzanne. All the souls of the dead are in your soul. Traveling through the mystery of the cells, they have come down to you, shaping you and perfecting you. You shine as bright as Charlotte. You are more beautiful than Marie Claudette or Angelique. You have a fire in you that is hotter than Marguerite or my poor doomed Stella; you have a vision far greater than ever my lovely Antha or Deirdre. You are the one.”
“Are the souls of the dead in this house?”
“The souls of the dead are gone from the earth.”
“Then what did Michael see in this room?”
“He saw the impressions left behind by the dead ones. These impressions sprang to life for him from the objects that he touched. They are like unto the grooves of a phonograph record. Put the needle into the groove and the voice sings. But the singer is not there.”
“But why did they crowd around him when he touched the dolls?”
“As I have said, these were impressions. Then the imagination of Michael took them up and worked them as if they were puppets. All their animation came from him.”
“Why did the witches keep the dolls, then?”
“To play the same game. As if you kept a photograph of your mother, and when you held it to the light, the eyes seemed to fire with being. And to believe perhaps that the dead soul could be reached somehow, that beyond this earth lies a realm of eternity. I see no such eternity with my eyes. I see only the stars.”
“I think they called to the souls of the dead through the dolls.”
“Like praying, as I told you. And to be warm with the impressions. Anything more is not possible. The souls of the dead are not here. The soul of my Suzanne went past me, upwards. The soul of my Deborah rose as if on wings when her tender body fell from the battlements of the church. The dolls are keep sakes, nothing more. But don’t you see? None of this matters now. The dolls, the emeralds, they are emblems. We are passing out of this realm of emblems and keepsakes and prophecies. We go to a new existence. Envision the doorway if you will. We shall pass through it, out of this house and into the world.”
“And the transmutation can be replicated. That is what you’re leading me to believe?”
“That is what you know, Rowan. I read the book of life over your shoulder. All living cells replicate. In manly form I shall replicate. And my cells can be grafted to your cells, Rowan. There are possibilities of which we have not yet begun to dream.”
“And I shall become immortal.”
“Yes. My companion. And my lover. Immortal like me.”
“When is it to happen?”
“When you know I shall know. And you will know very soon.”
“You are so sure of me, aren’t you? I don’t know how to do it. I’ve told you.”
“What do your dreams tell you?”
“They are nightmares. They’re full of images I don’t understand. I don’t know where the body on the table comes from. I don’t know why Lemle is there. I don’t understand what they want of me, and I don’t want to see Jan van Abel struck down again. The place is meaningless to me.”
“Calm yourself, Rowan. Let me calm you. The dreams tell you. But more truly, you will tell yourself finally. Out of the caldron of your own mind will come the truth.”
“No, back away from me. Just talk to me. That’s what I want of you now.”
Silence.
“You are the doorway, my beloved. I hunger for the flesh. I am weary of my loneliness. Don’t you know the time is almost at hand? My mother, my beautiful one … This is the season for me to be reborn.”
She closed her eyes, feeling his lips on the back of her neck, feeling his fingers tracing the length of her spine. There came the pressure of a warm hand clasping her sex, fingers slipping inside her, lips against her lips. Fingers pinched her nipples hurtfully and deliciously.
“Let me wrap my arms around you,” he whispered. “Others will come. And you will belong to them for hours, and I must hover hungrily at a distance, watching you, catching the words that fall from your lips as though they were drops of water to slake my thirst. Let me enfold you now. Give me these hours, my beautiful Rowan … ”
She felt herself being lifted, her feet no longer touching the floor; the darkness was swirling around her, strong hands turning her, and stroking her all over. There was no gravity any longer; she felt his strength increasing, the heat of it increasing.
The cold wind rattled the panes of the window. The great empty house seemed full of whispers. She was floating in the air. She turned over, groping in the shadowy tangle of arms supporting her, feeling her legs forced apart and her mouth opened. Yes, do it.
“How can the time be nearly at hand?” she whispered.
“Soon, my darling.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Oh, yes you will be able to, my beauty. You know. You shall see … ”
Forty-eight
THE DAY WAS darkening and the wind was bitter as he got out of the car, but the plantation house looked cheerful and inviting, with all its windows filled with a warm yellow light.
Aaron was waiting at the door for him, layered with wool under his gray cardigan, neck wrapped in a cashmere scarf.
“Here, this is for you,” Michael said. “Merry Christmas, my friend.” He placed a small bottle, wrapped in green Christmas paper, in Aaron’s hands. “It’s not a very big surprise, I’m afraid. But it is the best brandy I could find.”
“That was very thoughtful of you,” Aaron said with a little smile. “I’m going to enjoy it immensely. Every drop of it. Come in out of the cold. I have a little something for you, too. I’ll show you later. Come on, inside.”
The warm air was delicious. And there was quite a large and full tree set up in the living room, and very splendidly decorated with gold and silver ornaments, all of which surprised Michael because he hadn’t known how the Talamasca would celebrate such a feast, if they celebrated such things at all. Even the mantels were decorated with holly. And a good fire was blazing on the large living room hearth.
“It’s an old old feast, Michael,” said Aaron, anticipating his question with a little smile. He set the gift on the table. “Goes back long before Christ. The winter solstice-a time when all the forces of the earth are at their strongest. That’s probably why the Son of God chose it as a time to be born.”
“Yeah, well, I could use a little belief in the Son of God right now,” said Michael. “A little belief in the forces of the earth.”
It did feel good in here. It had the nice cozy feel of a country place after First Street-with its lower ceilings and simpler crown moldings, and the large deep fireplace, built not for coal but for a real raging log fire.
Michael took off his leather coat and his gloves, gave them over to Aaron gratefully, and stretched out his hands to warm them over the fire. There was no one else in the main rooms as far as he could tell, though he could hear faint sounds coming from the back kitchen. The wind beat against the French windows. Rimmed in frost, they were nevertheless filled with the pale green of landscape beyond.
