Merrick - Anne Rice [122]
She reached out for my arm and guided me into position.
Even at this closeness, the mask was inherently frightening and appeared to float before her lost countenance, perhaps her lost soul. With an anxious and meddlesome hand I confirmed that the mask was firmly affixed to her head by strong leather thongs.
Louis had stepped behind her, and now stood over the iron table to the right of the cauldron, at her right hand, peering ahead at the glowing altar with its banks of glass-contained candles, and at the eerie but lovely faces of the saints.
I took my place by her left.
“What do you mean, we’re not to interrupt?” I asked, though it seemed a terrible irreverence, in the midst of this spectacle which had taken on a high beauty, what with the plaster saints, and tall dark yew trees crowding in upon us, and the low twisted black limbs of the oaks shutting out the stars above.
“Just what I told you,” she said in a low voice. “You’re not to stop me, whatever happens. You’re to stay behind this table, both of you; you’re never to move in front of it, no matter what you see or think you may see.”
“I understand you,” said Louis. “The name you wanted. Claudia’s mother. It’s Agatha. Of that I’m almost certain.”
“Thank you,” Merrick replied. She gestured before her. “There, on the stones,” she said, “the spirits will come if they’re meant to come, but you must not go to them, you must not engage in any struggle with them, you must do only as I say.”
“I understand you,” Louis repeated.
“David, do I have your word?” she asked calmly.
“Very well, Merrick,” I said crossly.
“David, stop your interference!” she declared.
“What can I say, Merrick?” I demanded. “How can I give my inner feelings to this thing? Isn’t it enough that I stand here? Isn’t it enough that I do as you say?”
“David, trust in me,” she said. “You came to me with the request for this magic. Now I give you what you asked for. Trust that it will be for the good of Louis. Trust that I can control what I do.”
“To speak of magic,” I said softly, “to read of it, and study it—all that is one matter, but to participate, to be in the presence of one who believes in it and knows it—that is quite another thing.”
“Govern your heart, please, David,” said Louis. “I want this more than anything I have ever wanted. Merrick, please, proceed.”
“Give me your word with honesty, David,” said Merrick. “You will not try to interfere with the things I will say and the things I will do.”
“Very well, Merrick,” I said, defeated.
Only then did I have the freedom to inspect the objects covering the two tables. There lay the poor pitiful old doll which had belonged to Claudia, limp as a tiny dead body. And the page of the diary, weighted down by the doll’s round porcelain head. There was the rosary heaped beside it, and the small daguerreotype in its dark case. There was an iron knife.
I also saw a gold chalice, beautifully ornamented and rimmed with inset jewels. There was a tall crystal bottle filled with what appeared to be clear yellow oil. I saw the jade perforator, a wicked and awful thing in my sight, sharp and dangerous, lying close to the cauldron. And then quite suddenly I saw what appeared to be a human skull.
I was furious at this last discovery. Quickly, I considered the contents of the other table, the one before Louis, and saw there a rib bone covered with markings, and that loathsome old shriveled black hand. There were three bottles of rum. There were other items—a fine golden pitcher of honey, which I could smell in its sweetness, another silver pitcher of pure white milk, and a bronze bowl of shining salt.
As for the incense, I realized it had all been distributed and was already burning before the distant unsuspecting saints.
Indeed, a great deal more of the incense, very black and only faintly aglow as its smoke rose in the darkness, had been poured out to make a great