The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,554

be upheld in that moment of my final triumph. In the reward of Lasher, their faithful servant, the persecution of Suzanne and Deborah would be avenged. When Lasher steps through the doorway, Suzanne shall not have died in vain. Deborah shall not have died in vain.”

“This was the complete meaning of the word ‘saved’?”

“You have now the full explanation.”

“And how is it to be done? You tell me that when I know, you will know, and I tell you I don’t.”

“Remember your communication to Aaron—that I am living and of life, and that my, cells can be merged with the cells of the fleshly, and that it is through mutation, and through surrender.”

“Ah, but that’s the key. You are afraid of that surrender. You are afraid of being locked in a form from which you can’t escape. You do realize, don’t you, what it means to be flesh and blood? That you may lose your immortality? That even in the ransmutation, you could be destroyed?”

“No. I will lose nothing. And when I am created in my new form, I shall open the way for you to a new form. You’ve always known. You knew when you first heard the old legend from your kinsmen. You knew why there were twelve crypts and one door.”

“You are saying that I can be immortal.”

“Yes.”

“This is what you see?”

“This is what I have always seen. You are my perfect companion. You are the witch of all witches. You have Julien’s strength and Mary Beth’s strength. You have the beauty of Deborah and Suzanne. All the souls of the dead are in your soul. Traveling through the mystery of the cells, they have come down to you, shaping you and perfecting you. You shine as bright as Charlotte. You are more beautiful than Marie Claudette or Angélique. You have a fire in you that is hotter than Marguerite or my poor doomed Stella; you have a vision far greater than ever my lovely Antha or Deirdre. You are the one.”

“Are the souls of the dead in this house?”

“The souls of the dead are gone from the earth.”

“Then what did Michael see in this room?”

“He saw the impressions left behind by the dead ones. These impressions sprang to life for him from the objects that he touched. They are like unto the grooves of a phonograph record. Put the needle into the groove and the voice sings. But the singer is not there.”

“But why did they crowd around him when he touched the dolls?”

“As I have said, these were impressions. Then the imagination of Michael took them up and worked them as if they were puppets. All their animation came from him.”

“Why did the witches keep the dolls, then?”

“To play the same game. As if you kept a photograph of your mother, and when you held it to the light, the eyes seemed to fire with being. And to believe perhaps that the dead soul could be reached somehow, that beyond this earth lies a realm of eternity. I see no such eternity with my eyes. I see only the stars.”

“I think they called to the souls of the dead through the dolls.”

“Like praying, as I told you. And to be warm with the impressions. Anything more is not possible. The souls of the dead are not here. The soul of my Suzanne went past me, upwards. The soul of my Deborah rose as if on wings when her tender body fell from the battlements of the church. The dolls are keep sakes, nothing more. But don’t you see? None of this matters now. The dolls, the emeralds, they are emblems. We are passing out of this realm of emblems and keepsakes and prophecies. We go to a new existence. Envision the doorway if you will. We shall pass through it, out of this house and into the world.”

“And the transmutation can be replicated. That is what you’re leading me to believe?”

“That is what you know, Rowan. I read the book of life over your shoulder. All living cells replicate. In manly form I shall replicate. And my cells can be grafted to your cells, Rowan. There are possibilities of which we have not yet begun to dream.”

“And I shall become immortal.”

“Yes. My companion. And my lover. Immortal like me.”

“When is it to happen?”

“When you know I shall know. And you will know very soon.”

“You are so sure of me, aren’t you? I don’t know how to do it. I’ve told you.”

“What do your dreams tell