The Vampire Chronicles Collection - Anne Rice [440]
“Something almost barbaric about it,” Louis had said. “Almost but not quite—”
“Yes, almost savage,” she had answered, glancing to him in acknowledgment. “And even if it was Marius, what makes you think he didn’t save you so that he could take his private vengeance in his own way?”
“No,” I had said, laughing softly. “Marius doesn’t want revenge, or he would already have it, that much I know.”
But I had been too excited just watching her, the old walk, the old gestures. And ah, the frayed safari clothing. After two hundred years, she was still the intrepid explorer. She straddled the chair like a cowboy when she sat down, resting her chin on her hands on the high back.
We had so much to talk about, to tell each other, and I was simply too happy to be afraid.
And besides, being afraid was too awful, because I knew now I had made another serious miscalculation. I’d realized it for the first time when the Porsche exploded with Louis still inside it. This little war of mine would put all those I loved in danger. What a fool I’d been to think I could draw the venom to myself.
We had to talk all right. We had to be cunning. We had to take great care.
But for now we were safe. I’d told her that soothingly. She and Louis didn’t feel the menace here; it had not followed us to the valley. And I had never felt it. And our young and foolish immortal enemies had scattered, believing that we possessed the power to incinerate them at will.
“You know a thousand times, a thousand times, I pictured our reunion,” Gabrielle said. “And never once was it anything like this.”
“I rather think it went splendidly!” I said. “And don’t suppose for a moment that I couldn’t have gotten us out of it! I was about to throttle that one with the scythe, toss him over the auditorium. And I saw the other one coming. I could have broken him in half. I tell you one of the frustrating things about all this is I didn’t get the chance—”
“You, Monsieur, are an absolute imp!” she said. “You are impossible! You are—what did Marius himself call you—the damnedest creature! I am in full accord.”
I laughed delightedly. Such sweet flattery. And how lovely the old-fashioned French.
And Louis had been so taken with her, sitting back in the shadows as he watched her, reticent, musing as he’d always been. Immaculate he was again, as if his garments were entirely at his command, and we’d just come from the last act of La Traviata to watch the mortals drink their champagne at the marble-top café tables as the fashionable carriages clattered past.
Feeling of the new coven formed, magnificent energy, the denial of the human reality, the three of us together against all tribes, all worlds. And a profound feeling of safety, of unstoppable momentum—how to explain that to them.
“Mother, stop worrying,” I had said finally, hoping to settle it all, to create a moment of pure equanimity. “It’s pointless. A creature powerful enough to burn his enemies can find us anytime that he chooses, do exactly what he likes.”
“And this should stop me from worrying?” she said.
I saw Louis shake his head.
“I don’t have your powers,” he said unobtrusively, “nevertheless I felt this thing. And I tell you it was alien, utterly uncivilized, for want of a better word.”
“Ah, you’ve hit it again,” Gabrielle interjected. “It was completely foreign as if coming from a being so removed …”
“And your Marius is too civilized,” Louis insisted, “too burdened with philosophy. That’s why you know he doesn’t want revenge.”
“Alien? Uncivilized?” I glanced at both of them. “Why didn’t I feel this menace!” I asked.
“Mon Dieu, it could have been anything,” Gabrielle had said finally. “That music of yours could wake the dead.”
I HAD thought of last night’s enigmatic message—Lestat! Danger—but it had been too close