Merrick - Anne Rice [134]
She looked up, startled, and her face was touched with fear.
“Bring him back to me, David,” she said imploringly. “In the name of God, you have to do that. I must see Louis and talk to him again.” She waited a moment, during which time I didn’t answer her. “As for you and me, don’t talk as if we can simply say goodbye to one another. David, I can’t bear that just now. You must assure me—.”
“It won’t be abrupt,” I said, cutting her off, “and it won’t be without your knowledge. But we can’t go on, Merrick. If we try to go on, you’ll lose faith in yourself and everything that matters to you. Believe me, I know.”
“But it never happened to you, dearest,” she said, with strong confidence, as though she’d thought through this very matter. “You were happy and independent when the Vampire Lestat brought you over. You told me so. Don’t you give me credit for that much, David? Each of us is different.”
“Know that I love you, Merrick,” I said softly.
“Don’t try to say farewell, David. Come here and kiss me and come back to me tomorrow night.”
I went to the bed, and I took her in my arms. I kissed her on both cheeks. And then in a sinful, wretchedly strong-willed manner, I kissed her unresisting breasts, kissed both her nipples, and I drew back, full of her scent and furious with myself.
“For now, darling,” I said.
And I went out and home to the Rue Royale.
21
LOUIS WAS HOME when I reached the flat. I could sense his presence even as I came up the stairs. Only a few hours remained of the night for both of us, but I was so glad to see him that I went directly into the front parlor where he stood at the window, looking out over the Rue Royale below.
The room was full of lighted lamps, and the paintings of Matisse and Monet seemed to be singing on the walls.
He had taken off his bloodsoiled clothes, and wore now a simple turtleneck shirt of black cotton, and black pants. His shoes were old and tattered, but had once been very fine.
He turned as I entered the room, and I took him in my arms. With him, I could give vent to the affection I’d held so severely in check with Merrick. I held him to myself and kissed him as men might do with other men when they are alone. I kissed his dark black hair and kissed his eyes, and then I kissed his lips.
For the first time in our existence together, I felt a great outpouring of affection from him, a deep affinity, yet something else made him stiffen suddenly, against his will.
It was the pain in his chest from the wound.
“I should have come with you,” I confessed. “I should never have let you go off, but I felt she needed me. And I remained with her. It was what I had to do.”
“Of course, you did,” he said, “and I wouldn’t have allowed you to leave her. She needed you much more than I did. Never mind this wound; it’s already healing. I’ve decades enough behind me on the Devil’s Road that it will heal in a few nights.”
“Not so, and you know it,” I said. “Let me give you my blood, my blood’s infinitely stronger. Don’t turn away from me, man, listen to me. If you won’t drink from me, then let me put my blood to the wound.”
He was deeply distressed. He sat down in a chair and put his elbows on his knees. I couldn’t see his face. I took the chair nearby and I waited.
“It will heal, I told you,” he said softly.
I let the matter drop. What else could I do? Yet I could see that the wound was hurting him powerfully. I could tell it by his slightest gestures—how they began in utter fluidity, and were suddenly cut short.
“And the spirit, what did you make of it, yourself?” I asked. “Let me hear it from your lips before I tell you what Merrick felt, and what I saw.”
“I know what you both think,” he said. He looked up finally and sat back gingerly in the chair. For the first time I saw the darkness of the blood on his shirt. The wound was wretched. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like seeing blood on him any more than I liked seeing it on Merrick. It struck me hard how much I loved them both.
“You both think the spirit preyed upon my fears,”