Merrick - Anne Rice [154]
Quite deliberately, I put the matter away from my thoughts, and I embraced Merrick as truly as I ever had, even though I had to endure the sight of her fascination for Louis, and the fascination which he held for her.
I had Lestat again, did I not?
It was two nights later—nights of no remarkable events or achievements, except for Merrick’s ever increasing experience—that I put the question to him that had so troubled me about his long sleep.
He was in the beautifully appointed front parlor in the Rue Royale, looking quite wonderful in his sleekly cut black velvet, what with cameo buttons, no less, and his handsome yellow hair shimmering as it ought to do in the familiar light of his numerous lamps.
“Your long slumber frightened me,” I confessed. “There were times when I could have sworn you were no longer in the body. Of course I talk again of a form of hearing denied to me as your pupil. But I speak of a human instinct in me which is quite strong.”
I went on telling him how it had so completely unnerved me to see him thus, to be unable to rouse him, and to fear that his soul had taken to wandering and might not return.
He was silent for some moments, and I thought for a split second that I saw a shadow fall over his face. Then he gave me a warm smile and gestured for me to worry no more.
“Maybe some night I’ll tell you about it,” he said. “For now let me say that there was some truth in your conjecture. I wasn’t always there.” He broke off, thinking, even whispering something which I couldn’t hear. Then he went on. “As for where I was, I can’t now explain it. But again, maybe some night, to you, above all others, I will try.”
My curiosity was dreadfully aroused and for a moment I was maddened by him, but when he began to laugh at me, I remained silent.
“I won’t go back to my slumber,” he said finally. He became quite sober and convincing. “I want you all to be assured of it. Years have passed since Memnoch came to me. You might say it took all my reserve to weather that terrible ordeal. As for the time when I was waked before by Sybelle’s music, I was more nearly close to all of you than I came to be some time later on.”
“You tease me with hints that something happened to you,” I said.
“Perhaps it did,” he answered, his vacillations and his playful tone infuriating me. “Perhaps it did not. David, how am I to know? Be patient. We have each other now again, and Louis has ceased to be the emblem of our discontent. Believe me, I’m happy for that.”
I smiled and I nodded, but the mere thought of Louis brought to mind the gruesome sight of his burnt remains in the casket. It had been the living proof that the quiet omnipotent glory of the daily sun would never shine upon me again. It had been the living proof that we can perish so very easily, that all the mortal world is a lethal enemy during those hours between dawn and dusk.
“I’ve lost so much time,” Lestat remarked in his habitual energetic fashion, eyes moving about the room. “There are so many books I mean to read, and things I mean to see. The world’s around me again. I’m where I belong.”
I suppose we might have spent a quiet evening after that, both of us reading, both of us enjoying the comfort of those lushly domestic Impressionist paintings, if Merrick and Louis had not come so suddenly up the iron stairs and down the corridor to the front room.
Merrick had not given up her penchant for shirtwaisted dresses and she looked splendid in her dark-green silk. She led the way, the more reticent Louis coming behind her. They both sat upon the brocade sofa opposite, and straightaway Lestat asked:
“What’s wrong?”
“The Talamasca,” said Merrick. “I think it’s wise to leave New Orleans. I think we should do it at once.”
“That’s sheer nonsense,” said Lestat immediately. “I won’t hear of it.” At once his face was flushed with expression. “I’ve never been afraid of mortals in my life. I have no fear of the Talamasca.”
“Perhaps you should