by Anne Rice
"But who are they? " she asked. She stood over me, her legs apart, her hands in two liquid summoning gestures. "Why do they call us outlaws and blasphemers? "
"I've told you everything I know, " I confessed. "Until tonight I didn't think they possessed faces or limbs or real voices. " I climbed to my feet and brushed off my clothes.
"They damned us for entering the churches! " she said. "Did you catch it, those images coming from them? And they don't know how we managed to do it. They themselves would not dare. " For the first time I observed that she was trembling. There were other small signs of alarm, the way the flesh quivered around her eyes, the way that she kept pushing the loose strands of her hair out of her eyes again.
"Gabrielle, " I said. I tried to make my tone authoritative, reassuring. "The important thing is to get out of here now. We don't know how early those creatures rise, or how soon after sunset they'll return. We have to discover another hiding place. "
"The dungeon crypt, " she said.
"A worse trap than this, " I said, "if they break through the gate. " I glanced at the sky again. I pulled the stone out of the low passage. "Come on, " I said.
"But where are we going? " she asked. For the first time tonight she looked almost fragile.
"To a village east of here, " I said. "It's perfectly obvious that the safest place is within the village church itself. "
"Would you do that? " she asked. "In the church? "
"Of course I would. As you just said, the little beasts would never dare to enter! And the crypts under the altar will be as deep and dark as any grave. "
"But Lestat, to rest under the very altar! "
"Mother, you astonish me, " I said. "I have taken victims under the very roof of Notre Dame. " But another little idea came to me. I went to Magnus's chest and started picking at the heap of treasure. I pulled out two rosaries, one of pearls, another of emeralds, both having the usual small crucifix. She watched me, her face white, pinched.
"Here, you take this one, " I said, giving her the emerald rosary.
"Keep it on you. If and when we do meet with them, show them the crucifix. If I am right, they'll run from it. "
"But what happens if we don't find a safe place in the church? "
"How the hell should I know? We'll come back here! " I could feel a fear collecting in her and radiating from her as she hesitated, looking through the windows at the fading stars. She had passed through the veil into the promise of eternity and now she was in danger again. Quickly, I took the rosary from her and kissed her and slipped the rosary into the pocket of her frock coat.
"Emeralds mean eternal life, Mother, " I said. She appeared the boy standing there again, the last glow of the fire just tracing the line of her cheek and mouth.
"It's as I said before, " she whispered. "You aren't afraid of anything, are you? "
"What does it matter if I am or not? " I shrugged. I took her arm and drew her to the passage.
"We are the things that others fear, " I said. "Remember that. " When we reach the stable, I saw the boy had been hideously murdered. His broken body lay twisted on the hay strewn floor as if it had been flung there by a Titan. The back of his head was shattered. And to mock him, it seemed, or to mock me, they had dressed him in a gentleman's fancy velvet frock coat. Red velvet. Those were the words she'd murmured when they had done the crime. I'd seen only the death. I looked away now in disgust. All the horses were gone.
"They'll pay for that, " I said. I took her hand. But she stared at the miserable boy's body as if it drew her against her will. She glanced at me.
"I feel cold, " she whispered. "I'm losing the strength in my limbs. I must, I must get to where it's dark. I can feel it. " I led her fast over the rise of the nearby hill and towards the road. There were no howling little monsters hidden in the village churchyard, of course. I didn't think there would be. The earth hadn't been turned up on the old graves in a long time. Gabrielle was past conferring with me on this. I half carried her to the side door of the church and quietly broke the latch.
"I'm cold all over. My eyes are burning, " she said again under her breath. "Someplace dark. " But as I started to take her in, she stopped.
"What if they're right, " she said. "And we don't belong in the House of God. "
"Gibberish and nonsense. God isn't in the House of God. "
"Don't! . . . " She moaned. I pulled her through the sacristy and out before the altar. She covered her face, and when she looked up it was at the crucifix over the tabernacle. She let out a long low gasp.
But it was from the stained-glass windows that she shielded her eyes, turning her head towards me. The rising sun that I could not even feel yet was already burning her! I picked her up as I had done last night. I had to find an old burial crypt, one that hadn't been used in years. I hurried towards the Blessed Virgin's altar, where the inscriptions were almost worn away. And kneeling, I hooked my fingernails around a slab and quickly lifted it to reveal a deep sepulcher with a single rotted coffin. I pulled her down into the sepulcher with me and moved the slab back into place. Inky blackness, and the coffin splintering under me so that my right hand closed on a crumbling skull. I felt the sharpness of other bones under my chest. Gabrielle spoke as if in a trance:
"Yes. Away from the light. "
"We're safe, " I whispered. I pushed the bones out of the way, making a nest of the rotted wood and the dust that was too old to contain any smell of human decay. But I did not fall into the sleep for perhaps an hour or more. I kept thinking over and over of the stable boy, mangled and thrown there in that fancy red velvet frock coat. I had seen that coat before and I couldn't remember where I had seen it. Had it been one of my own? Had they gotten into the tower? No, that was not possible, they couldn't have gotten in. Had they had a coat made up identical to one of my own? Gone to such lengths to mock me? No. How could such creatures do a thing like that? But still . . . that particular coat. Something about it...
7
I heard the softest, loveliest singing when I opened my eyes. And as sound can often do, even the most precious fragments, it took me back to childhood, to some night in winter when all my family had gone down to the church in our village and stood for hours among the blazing candles, breathing the heavy, sensual smell of the incense as the priest walked in procession with the monstrance lifted high. I remembered the sight of the round white Host behind the thick glass, the starburst of gold and jewels surrounding it, and overhead the embroidered canopy, swaying dangerously as the altar boys in their lace surplices tried to steady it as they moved on. A thousand Benedictions after that one had engraved into my mind the words of the old hymn.
O Salutaris Hostia
Quae caeli pandis ostium
Bella premunt hostilia,
Da robur, fer auxilium . . .
And as I lay in the remains of this broken coffin under the white marble slab at the side altar in this large country church, Gabrielle clinging to me still in the paralysis of sleep, I realized very slowly that above me were hundreds upon hundreds of humans who were singing this very hymn right now. The church was full of people! And we could not get out of this damned nest of bones until all of them went away. Around me in the dark, I could feel creatures moving. I could smell the shattered, crumbling skeleton on which I lay. I could smell the earth, too, and feel dampness and the harshness of the cold. Gabrielle's hands were dead hands holding to me. Her face was as inflexible as bone. I tried not to brood on this, but to lie perfectly still. Hundreds of humans breathed and sighed above. Perhaps a thousand of them. And now they moved on into the second hymn. What comes now, I thought dismally. The litany, the blessings? On this of all nights, I had no time to lie here musing. I must get out. The image of that red velvet coat came to me again with an irrational sense of urgency, and a flash of equally inexplicable pain. And quite suddenly, it seemed, Gabrielle opened her eyes. Of course I didn't see it. It was utterly black here. I felt it. I felt her limbs come to life. And no sooner
had she moved than she grew positively rigid with alarm. I slipped my hand over her mouth.
"Be still, " I whispered, but I could feel her panic. All the horrors of the preceding night must be coming back to her, that she was now in a sepulcher with a broken skeleton, that she lay beneath a stone she could hardly lift.
"We're in the church! " I whispered. "And we're safe. " The singing surged on. "Tantum ergo Sacramentum, Veneremur cernui. "
"No, it's a Benediction, " Gabrielle gasped. She was trying to lie still, but abruptly she lost the struggle, and I had to grip her firmly in both arms.
"We must get out, " she whispered. "Lestat, the Blessed Sacrament is on the altar, for the love of God! " The remains of the wooden coffin clattered and creaked against the stone beneath it, causing me to roll over on top of her and force her flat with my weight.
"Now lie still, do you hear me! " I said. "We have no choice but to wait. " But her panic was infecting me. I felt the fragments of bone crunching beneath my knees and smelled the rotting cloth. It seemed the death stench was penetrating the walls of the sepulcher, and I knew I could not bear to be shut up with that stench.
"We can't, " she gasped. "We can't remain here. I have to get out! " She was almost whimpering. "Lestat, I can't. " She was feeling the walls with both hands, and then the stone above us. I heard a pure toneless sound of terror issue from her lips. Above the hymn had stopped. The priest would go up the altar steps, lift the monstrance in both hands. He would turn to the congregation and raise the Sacred Host in blessing. Gabrielle knew that of course, and Gabrielle suddenly went mad, writhing under me, almost heaving me to the side.
"All right, listen to me! " I hissed. I could control this no longer.
"We are going out. But we shall do it like proper vampires, do you hear! There are one thousand people in the church and we are going to scare them to death. I will lift the stone and we will rise up together, and when we do, raise your arms and make the most horrible face you can muster and cry out if you can. That will make them fall back, instead of pouncing upon us and dragging us off to prison, and then we'll rush to the door. " She couldn't even stop to answer, she was already struggling, slamming the rotted boards with her heels. I rose up, giving the marble slab a great shove with both hands, and leapt out of the vault just as I had said I would do, pulling my cloak up in a giant arc. I landed upon the floor of the choir in a blaze of candlelight, letting out the most powerful cry I could make. Hundreds rose to their feet before me, hundreds of mouths opening to scream. Giving another shout, I grabbed Gabrielle's hand and lunged towards them, leaping over the Communion rail. She gave a lovely high-pitched wail, her left hand raised as a claw as I pulled her down the aisle.
Everywhere there was panic, men and women clutching for children, shrieking and falling backwards. The heavy doors gave at once on the black sky and the gusting breeze. I threw Gabrielle ahead of me and, turning back, made the loudest shriek that I could. I bared my fangs at the writhing, screaming congregation, and unable to tell whether some pursued or merely fell towards me in panic, I reached into my pockets and showered the marble floor with gold coins.
"The devil throws money! " someone screeched. We tore through the cemetery and across the fields. Within seconds, we had gained the woods and I could smell the stables of a large house that lay ahead of us beyond the trees. I stood still, bent almost double in concentration, and summoned the horses. And we ran towards them, hearing the dull thunder of their hooves against the stalls. Bolting over the low hedge with Gabrielle beside me, I pulled the door off its hinges just as a fine gelding raced out of his broken stall, and we sprang onto his back, Gabrielle scrambling into place before me as I threw my arm around her. I dug my heels into the animal and rode south into the woods and towards Paris.
8
I Tried to form a plan as we approached the city, but in truth I was not sure at all how to proceed. There was no avoiding these filthy little monsters. We were riding towards a battle. And it was little different from the morning on which I'd gone out to kill the wolves, counting upon my rage and my will to carry me through. We had scarcely entered the scattered farmhouses of Montmartre when we heard for a split second their faint murmuring. Noxious as a vapor, it seemed. Gabrielle and I knew we had to drink at once, in order to be prepared for them. We stopped at one of the small farms, crept through the orchard to the back door, and found inside the man and wife dozing at an empty hearth. When it was finished, we came out of the house together and into the little kitchen garden where we stood still for a moment, looking at the pearl gray sky. No sound of others. Only the stillness, the clarity of the fresh blood, and the threat of rain as the clouds gathered overhead. I turned and silently bid the gelding to come to me. And gathering the reins, I turned to Gabrielle.
"I see no other way but to go into Paris, " I told her, "to face these little beasts head on. And until they show themselves and start the war all over again, there are things that I must do. I have to think about Nicki. I have to talk to Roget. "
"This isn't the time for that mortal nonsense, " she said. The dirt of the church sepulcher still clung to the cloth of her coat and to her blond hair, and she looked like an angel dragged in the dust.
"I won't have them come between me and what I mean to do, " I said. She took a deep breath.
"Do you want to lead these creatures to your beloved Monsieur Roget? " she asked. That was too dreadful to contemplate. The first few drops of rain were falling and I felt cold in spite of the blood. In a moment it would be raining hard.
"All right, " I said. "Nothing can be done until this is finished! " I said. I mounted the horse and reached for her hand.
"Injury only spurs you on, doesn't it? " she asked. She was studying me. "It would only strengthen you, whatever they did or tried to do. " "Now this is what I call mortal nonsense! " I said. "Come on! " "Lestat, " she said soberly. "They put your stable boy in a gentleman's frock coat after they killed him. Did you see the coat? Hadn't you seen it before? " That damned red velvet coat . . .
"I have seen it, " she said. "I had looked at it for hours at my bedside in Paris. It was Nicolas de Lenfent's coat. " I looked at her for a long moment. But I don't think I saw her at all. The rage building in me was absolutely silent. It will be rage until I have proof that it must be grief, I thought. Then I wasn't thinking. Vaguely, I knew she had no notion yet how strong our passions could be, how they could paralyze us. I think I moved my lips, but nothing came out.
"I don't think they've killed him, Lestat, " she said. Again I tried to speak. I wanted to ask, Why do you say that, but I couldn't. I was staring forward into the orchard.
"I think he is alive, " she said. "And that he is their prisoner. Otherwise they would have left his body there and never bothered with that stable boy. "
"Perhaps, perhaps not. " I had to farce my mouth to form the words. "The coat was a message. " I couldn't stand this any longer.
"I'm going after them, " I said. "Do you want to return to the tower? If I fail at this. . . "
"I have no intention of leaving you, " she said. The rain was falling in earnest by the time we reached the boulevard du Temple, and the wet paving stones magnified a thousand lamps. My thoughts had hardened into strategies that. were more instinct than reason. And I was as ready for a fight as I have ever been. But we had to find out where we stood. How many of them were there? And what did they really want? Was it to capture and destroy us, or to frighten us and drive us off? I had to quell my rage, I had to remember they were childish, superstitious, conceivably easy to scatter or scare. As soon as we reached the high ancient tenements near Notre Dame, I heard them near us, the vibration coming as in a silver flash and vanishing as quickly again. Gabrielle drew herself up, and I felt her left hand on my wrist. I saw her right hand on the hilt of her sword. We had entered a crooked alleyway that turned blindly in the dark in front of us, the iron clatter of the horse's shoes shattering the silence, and I struggled not to be unnerved by the sou
nd itself. It seemed we saw them at the same moment. Gabrielle pressed back against me, and I swallowed the gasp that would have given an impression of fear. High above us, on either side of the narrow thoroughfare, were their white faces just over the eaves of the tenements, a faint gleam against the lowering sky and the soundless drifts of silver rain. I drove the horse forward in a rush of scraping and clattering. Above they streaked like rats over the roof. Their voices rose in a faint howling mortals could never have heard. Gabrielle stifled a little cry as we saw their white arms and legs descending the walls ahead of us, and behind I heard the soft thud of their feet on the stones.
"Straight on, " I shouted, and drawing my sword, I drove right over the two ragged figures who'd dropped down in our path. "Damnable creatures, out of my way, " I shouted, hearing their screams underfoot. I glimpsed anguished faces for a moment. Those above vanished and those behind us seemed to weaken and we bore ahead, putting yards between us and our pursuers as we came into the deserted place de Grave. But they were regathering on the edges of the square, and this time I was hearing their distinct thoughts, one of them demanding what power was it we had, and why should they be frightened, and another insisting that they close in. Some force surely came from Gabrielle at that moment because I could see them visibly fall back when she threw her glance in their direction and tightened her grip on the sword.
"Stop, stand them off! " she said under her breath. "They're terrified. " Then I heard her curse. Because flying towards us out of the shadows of the Hotel-Dieu, there came at least six more of the little demons, their thin white limbs barely swathed in rags, their hair flying, those dreadful wails coming out of their mouths. They were rallying the others. The malice that surrounded us was gaining force. The horse reared, and almost threw us. They were commanding it to halt as surely as I commanded it to go on. I grabbed Gabrielle about the waist, leapt off the horse, and ran top speed to the doors of Notre Dame. A horrid derisive babble rose silently in my ears, wails and cries and threats: