by Anne Rice
"What is it!" he asked between his clenched teeth.
"Feed the animal. Give it some meat."
Then I made my exit so swiftly he couldn't see it, and when I glanced back, I could see Mojo gazing up at me, through the snowy darkness, and I smiled to think that the dog had seen my movement, fast as it was. The last sound I heard was James cursing to himself ungracefully as he slammed the back door.
An hour later, I lay in the dark waiting for the sun above, and thinking again of my youth in France, of the dogs lying beside me, of riding out on that last hunt with those two huge mastiffs, picking their way slowly through the deep snow.
And the face of the vampire peering at me from the darkness in Paris, calling me "Wolfkiller" with such reverence, such crazed reverence, before he sank his fangs into my neck.
Mojo, an omen.
So we reach into the raging chaos, and we pluck some small glittering thing, and we cling to it, and tell ourselves it has meaning, and that the world is good, and we are not evil, and we will all go home in the end.
Tomorrow night, I thought, if that bastard has been lying, I shall split open his chest and tear out his beating heart, and feed it to that big beautiful dog.
Whatever happens, I shall keep this dog.
And I did.
And before this story moves any further, let me say something about this dog. He isn't going to do anything in this book.
He won't save a drowning baby, or rush into a burning building to rouse the inhabitants from near-fatal sleep. He isn't possessed by an evil spirit; he isn't a vampire dog. He's in this narrative simply because I found him in the snow behind that town house in Georgetown, and I loved him, and from that first moment, he seemed somehow to love me. It was all too true to the blind and merciless laws I believe in-the laws of nature, as men say; or the laws of the Savage Garden, as I call them myself. Mojo loved my strength; I loved his beauty. And nothing else ever really mattered at all.
TEN
I WANT the details," I said, "of how you pushed him out of his body, and how you managed to force him into yours."
Wednesday at last. Not a half hour had passed since the sun had set. I had startled him when I appeared on the back steps.
We were sitting now in the immaculate white kitchen, a room curiously devoid of mystery for such an esoteric meeting. A single bulb in a handsome copper fixture flooded the table between us with a soft rosy illumination, which lent a deceiving coziness to the scene.
The snowfall continued, and beneath the house the furnace gave a low continuous roar.
I'd brought the dog in with me, much to the annoyance of the lord of the house, and after some reassurance, the beast lay quietly now like an Egyptian sphinx, looking up at us, front legs stretched straight before him on the waxed floor. Now and then James glanced at him uneasily, and with reason. The dog looked as if he had the devil inside him and the devil knew the whole tale.
James was far more relaxed now than he had been in New Orleans. He was entirely the English gentleman, which set off the tall, youthful body to powerful advantage. He wore a gray sweater, stretched fetchingly tight over his big chest, and a pair of dark pants.
There were silver rings on his fingers. And a cheap watch on his wrist. I hadn't remembered these items. He was studying me with a little twinkle in his eye, much easier to endure than those horrid glaring smiles. I couldn't take my eyes off him, off this body which might soon become mine.
I could smell the blood in the body, of course, and this ignited some low smoldering passion in me. The more I looked at him, the more I wondered what it would be like to drink his blood and be done with it here and now. Would he try to escape the body and leave me holding a mere breathing shell?
I looked at his eyes, and thought, sorcerer, and a rare and unfamiliar excitement completely obliterated the common hunger. I'm not sure I believed he could do it, however. I thought that the evening might end in a tasty feast and no more.
I clarified my question for him. "How did you find this body? How did you get the soul to go into yours?"
"I'd been searching for just such a specimen-a man psychologically shocked out of all will and capacity for reason, yet sound of limb and brain. Telepathy is quite an aid in such matters, for only a telepath could have reached the remnants of intelligence still buried within him. I had to convince him on the deepest unconscious level, so to speak, that I had come to be of help, that I knew he was a good person, that I was on his side. And once I'd reached that rudimentary core, it was fairly easy to plunder his memories and manipulate him into obedience." He gave a little shrug. "The poor chap. His responses were entirely superstitious. I suspect he thought I was his guardian angel at the end."
"And you lured him out of his body?"
"Yes, by a series of bizarre and rather ornate suggestions, that's exactly what I did. Again telepathy is a powerful ally. One has to be psychic, really, to manipulate others in such a way. The first time he rose perhaps a foot or two, then slam, back into the flesh he went. More of a reflex than a decision. But I was patient, oh, very patient. And when I finally lured him out for the space of several seconds, that was sufficient for me to pop inside of him, and at once focus my intense energy upon shoving him down into what was left of the old me."
"How nicely you put it."
"Well, we are body and soul, you know," he said with a placid smile. "But why go all through this now? You know how to rise out of your body. This isn't going to be difficult for you."
"I might surprise you. What happened to him after he was hi your body? Did he realize what had taken place?"
"Not at all. You must understand the man was deeply psychologically crippled. And, of course, he was an ignorant fool."
"And you didn't give him even a moment's time, did you? You killed him."
"Monsieur de Lioncourt, what I did was a mercy to him!
How dreadful to have left him in that body, confused as he was! He wasn't going to recover, you realize, no matter what body he was inhabiting. He'd murdered his entire family. Even the baby in the crib."
"Were you part of that?"
"What a low opinion you have of me! Not at all. I was watching the hospitals for such a specimen. I knew one would come along. But why these last questions? Didn't David Talbot tell you there are numerous documented cases of switching in the Talamasca files."
David had not told me this. But then I could scarcely blame him.
"Did they all involve murder?" I asked.
"No. Some involved bargains such as you and I have struck."
"I wonder. We are oddly paired, you and I."
"Yes, but well paired, you must admit. This is a very nice body I have for you," he said of himself, placing an open hand on his broad chest. "Not as beautiful as yours, of course. But very nice! And exactly what you ought to require. As for your body, what more can I say? I hope you didn't listen to David Talbot about me. He's made so many tragic mistakes."
"What do you mean?"
"He's a slave to that wretched organization," he said sincerely. "They completely control him. If only I could have spoken to him at the end, he would have seen the significance of what I had to offer, what I could teach. Did he tell you of his escapades in old Rio?
Yes, an exceptional person, a person I should like to have known. But I can tell you, he's no one to cross."
"What's to stop you from killing me as soon as we switch bodies? That's just what you did to this creature you lured into your old body, with one swift blow to the head."
"Ah, so you have talked to Talbot," he said, refusing to be rattled. "Or did you merely do the research on your own? Twenty million dollars will stop me from killing you. I need the body to go to the bank, remember? Absolutely marvelous of you to double the sum. But I would have kept the bargain for ten. Ah, you've liberated me, Monsieur de Lioncourt. As of this Friday, at the very hour when Christ was nailed to the cross, I shall never have to steal again."
He took a sip of his warm te
a. Whatever his facade, he was becoming increasingly anxious. And something similar and more enervating was building in me. What if this does work?
"Oh, but it will work," he said in that grave heartfelt manner. "And there are other excellent reasons why I wouldn't attempt to harm you. Let's talk them through."
"By all means."
"Well, you could get out of the mortal body if I attacked it. I've already explained you must cooperate."
"What if you were too fast?"
"It's academic. I wouldn't try to harm you. Your friends would know if I did. As long as you, Lestat, are here, inside a healthy human body, your companions wouldn't think of destroying your preternatural body, even if I'm at the controls. They wouldn't do that to you, now, would they? But if I killed you-you know, smashed your face or whatever before you could disentangle yourself... and God knows, this is a possibility, I myself am keenly aware of it, I assure you!-your companions would find me sooner or later for an impostor, and do away with me very quickly, indeed. Why, they would probably feel your death when it happened. Don't you think?"
"I don't know. But they would discover everything eventually."
"Of course!"
"It's imperative that you stay away from them while you're in my body, that you don't go near New Orleans, that you keep clear of any and all blood drinkers, even the very weak. Your skill at cloaking yourself, you must use it, you realize . . ."
"Yes, certainly. I've considered the entire enterprise, please be assured. If I were to burn up your beautiful Louis de Pointe du Lac, the others would know immediately, wouldn't they? And I might be the next torch burning brightly in the dead of night myself."
I didn't answer. I felt anger moving through me as if it were a cold liquid, driving out all anticipation and courage. But I wanted this! I wanted it, and it was near at hand!
"Don't go troubling yourself about such nonsense," he pleaded. His manner was so like David Talbot's. Perhaps it was deliberate. Maybe David was the model. But I thought it more a matter of similar breeding, and some instinct for persuasiveness which even David did not possess. "I'm not really a murderer, you know," he said with sudden intensity. "It's acquisition that means everything. I want comfort, beauty around me, every conceivable luxury, the power to go and live where I please."
"You want any instructions?"
"As to what?"
"What to do when you're inside my body."
"You've already given me my instruction, dear boy. I have read your books." He flashed me a broad smile, dipping his head slightly and looking up at me as if he were trying to lure me into his bed. "I've read all the documents in the Talamasca archives as well."
"What sort of documents?"
"Oh, detailed descriptions of vampire anatomy-your obvious limits, that sort of thing.
You ought to read them for yourself. Perhaps you'd laugh. The earliest chapters were penned in the Dark Ages and are filled with fanciful nonsense that would have made even Aristotle weep. But the more recent files are quite scientific and precise."
I didn't like this line of discussion. I didn't like anything that was happening. I was tempted to finish it now. And then quite suddenly, I knew I was going to go through with this. I knew.
A curious calm descended on me. Yes, we were going to do this in a matter of minutes. And it was going to work. I felt the color drain from my face-an imperceptible cooling of the skin, which was still hurting from its terrible ordeal in the sun.
I doubt he noted this change, or any hardening of my expression, for he went right on talking as before.
"The observations written in the 1970s after the publication of Interview with the Vampire are most interesting. And then the very recent chapters, inspired by your fractured and fanciful history of the species-my word! No, I know all about your body. I know more about it perhaps than you do. Do you know what the Talamasca really wants? A sample of your tissue, a specimen of your vampiric cells! You'd be wise to see that they never acquire such a specimen. You've been too free with Talbot, really. Perhaps he pared your fingernails or cut off a lock of your hair while you slept beneath his roof."
Lock of hair. Wasn't there a lock of blond hair in that locket? It had to be vampire hair! Claudia's hair. I shuddered, drawing deeper into myself and shutting him away. Centuries ago there had been a dreadful night when Gabrielle, my mortal mother and newborn fledgling, had cut off her vampire hair. Through the long hours of the day, as she lay in the coffin, it had all grown back. I did not want to remember her screams when she discovered it-those magnificent tresses once again luxuriant and long over her shoulders.
I did not want to think of her and what she might say to me now about what I meant to do. It had been years since I had laid eyes upon her. It might be centuries before I saw her again.
I looked again at James, as he sat there radiant with expectation, straining to appear patient, face glowing hi the warm light.
"Forget the Talamasca," I said under my breath. "Why do you have such a hard time with this body? You're clumsy. You're only comfortable when you're sitting hi a chair and you can leave matters entirely to your voice and your face."
"Very perceptive," he said, with unshakable decorum.
"I don't think so. It's rather obvious."
"It's simply too big a body," he said calmly. "It's too muscular, too ... shall we say, athletic? But it's perfect for you."
He paused, looked at the teacup thoughtfully and then up at me again. The eyes seemed so wide, so innocent.
"Lestat, come now," he said. "Why are we wasting time with this conversation? I don't intend to dance with the Royal Ballet once I'm inside you. I simply mean to enjoy the whole experience, to experiment, to see the world through your eyes." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I'd offer you a little drink to screw up your courage, but that would be self- defeating in the long run, wouldn't it? Oh, and by the way, the passport. Were you able to obtain it? You remember I asked you to provide me with a passport. I do hope you remembered, and of course I have a passport for you. I fear you won't be going anywhere, on account of this blizzard-"
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 hi 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."