Merrick - Anne Rice [158]
“And you won’t be,” said Louis. “You’ll be with us, and we’re leaving here. We should be making preparations, destroying any evidence with which they can back their designs for the rank and file.”
“Will the old ones understand why I didn’t go to them,” she asked, “when they find their peace and solitude invaded by a new type of scholar? Don’t you see what’s involved?”
“You underestimate us all,” I said calmly. “But I think we are spending our last night in this flat; and to all these various objects which have been such a solace, I’m saying my farewell, as should we all.”
We looked to Lestat, each of us, studying his knotted angry face. Finally, he spoke.
“You do realize, don’t you?” he asked me directly, “that I can easily wipe out the very members who made the observations that are threatening us now.”
At once Merrick protested, and so did I. It was all a matter of desperate gestures, and then I gave in to a rapid plea.
“Don’t do this thing, Lestat,” I said. “Let’s leave here. Let’s kill their faith, not them. Like a small retreating army, we’ll burn all evidence which might have become their trophies. I cannot endure the thought of turning against the Talamasca. I cannot. What more can I say?”
Merrick nodded, though she remained quiet.
Finally, Lestat spoke up.
“All right then,” he said with vengeful finality. “I give in to you all because I love you. We’ll go. We’ll leave this house which has been my home for so many years; we’ll leave this city which we all love; we’ll leave all this, and we’ll find someplace where no one can pick us out of the multitudes. We’ll do it, but I tell you, I don’t like it, and for me the members of the Order have lost by these very communications any special protective shield they might have once possessed.”
It was settled.
We went to work, swiftly, silently, making certain that noth-ing remained which contained the potent blood which the Talamasca would seek to examine as soon as it could.
The flat was soon clean of all that might have been claimed as evidence, and then the four of us went over to Merrick’s house and carried out the same thorough cleansing, burning the white silk dress of the terrible séance, and destroying her altars as well.
I had then to visit my erstwhile study at St. Elizabeth’s and burn the contents of my many journals and essays, a task for which I had no taste at all.
It was tiresome, it was defeating, it was demoralizing. But it was done.
And so, on the very next night, we came to leave New Orleans. And well before morning, the three—Louis and Merrick and Lestat—went ahead.
I remained behind in the Rue Royale, at the desk in the back parlor, to write a letter to those whom I had once trusted so very much, those I had once so dearly loved.
In my own hand I wrote it, so that they might recognize that the writing was of special significance to me, if to no one else.
To my beloved Elders, whoever you might truly be,
It was unwise of you to send to us such caustic and combative letters, and I fear that some night you might—some of you—have to pay dearly for what you’ve done.
Please understand, this is no challenge. I am leaving, and by the time you claim this letter by means of your questionable procedures, I will be well beyond your reach.
But know this. Your threats have greatly roused the tender pride of the strongest among us, one who had for some time now regarded you as quite beyond his eager reach.
By your ill-chosen words and threats you have forfeited the formidable sanctuary which enshrined you. You are now as exquisitely vulnerable to those whom you thought to frighten as any other mortal woman or man.
Indeed, you have made another rather grievous error, and I advise you to think on it long and well before plotting any further action in regard to the secrets we both share.
You have made yourselves an interesting adversary to one who loves challenges, and it will require all of my considerable influence to protect you individually and collectively from the