Merrick - Anne Rice [70]
She shrieked. “You stop that, lemme go!” And she managed to grind the cigarette into the side of my face.
I reached for her hand, grabbed it and twisted it until she dropped the cigarette. She slapped me hard, so that for one moment I felt faint. Nevertheless, I held on to her slippery shoulders.
“That’s it,” she cried. “Hurt her, break her bones, why don’t you just do that? Think it will make Joshua come back? Think he’ll be any older for you, David, think it will make everything right?”
“Get out of Merrick!” I shouted. I could still hear the broken glass under my shoes. She was perilously close to it. I shook her hard, her head flopping from side to side.
She convulsed, wrenching free, and again there came a slap of awesome strength that all but knocked me off balance. For one split second I couldn’t see.
I lunged at her and lifted her under the arms and threw her back on the bed. I knelt on the bed over her, gripping her still. She was struggling to reach my face.
“Let her go, David,” Aaron cried out behind me. And I heard the voice of Mary, suddenly, that other loyal member, begging me not to twist her wrist so hard.
Her fingers struggled to reach my eyes.
“You’re dead, you know you are, you’ve got no right here,” I roared at her. “Say it, you’re dead, you’re dead, and you’ve got to let Merrick go.”
I felt her knee against my chest.
“Great Nananne, get her out!” I said.
“How dare you!” she screamed. “You think you can use my godmother against me.” She caught my hair with her left hand and yanked at it.
Still I shook her.
And then I drew back, I let her go, and I called upon my own spirit, my own soul to make itself into a powerful instrument, and it was with that invisible instrument that I plunged towards her, striking her at the heart so that she lost her breath.
Get out, get out, get out! I commanded her with all the strength of my soul. I felt myself against her. I felt her collective power, as though there were no body to house it. I felt her resist. I had lost all contact with my own body. Get out of Merrick. Go!
A sob broke loose from her.
“There’s no grave for us, you bastard, you devil,” she cried. “There’s no grave for me or my mother! You can’t make me leave here!”
I looked down into her face, though where my own body had fallen—onto the floor or onto the bed—I didn’t know.
Call on God under any name and go towards him! I told her. Leave those bodies wherever they lie, do you hear me, leave them and go on. Now! It’s your chance!
Suddenly the strength that was resisting me contracted, and I felt its intense pressure dissolve. For one moment I thought I saw it, an amorphous shape rising above me. Then I realized I was lying on the floor.
I was staring up at the ceiling. And I could hear Merrick, our Merrick crying once more.
“They’re dead, Mr. Talbot, they’re dead, Cold Sandra’s dead and so is Honey in the Sunshine, my sister, Mr. Talbot, they’re both dead, they’ve been dead since they left New Orleans, Mr. Talbot, all those four years of waiting, and they were dead the first night in Lafayette, Mr. Talbot, they’re dead, dead, dead.”
Slowly I climbed to my feet. There were cuts from the broken glass on my hands. I was physically sick.
The child on the bed had shut her eyes. Her lips weren’t sneering, they were stretched back as she continued her plaintive wails.
Mary was quick to lay a thick robe over her. Aaron was at her side. She rolled on her back and made a face suddenly.
“I’m sick, Mr. Talbot,” she said hoarsely.
“This way,” I turned her over, away from the perilous glass, and lifted her and carried her into the bathroom in my arms. She leant over the sink, and the vomit poured out of her.
I was shuddering all over. My clothes were drenched.
Mary urged me to step aside. It seemed quite outrageous to me for a moment, and then I realized how it must have seemed to Mary.
And so I withdrew.
When I glanced at Aaron I was amazed at the expression on his face. He had seen many cases of possession.