The tale of the body thief - By Anne Rice Page 0,112

atoning for it all even as he did it. I was the devil. I was the only one who could gather her from the little bed.

Time now to lie to the doctor. “The child there, that is my child.”

And he’d be oh, so glad to have one less burden.

“Take her, monsieur, and thank you.” He looked gratefully at the gold coins as I tossed them on the bed. Surely I did that. Surely I didn’t fail to help them. “Yes, thank you. God bless you.”

I’m sure he will. He always has. I bless him too.

“Sleep now. As soon as there’s a room available, we’ll move you into it, you’ll be more comfortable.”

“Why are there so many here? Please don’t leave me.”

“No, I’ll stay with you. I’ll sit right here.”

Eight o’clock. I was lying on the gurney, with the needle in my arm, and the plastic sack of fluid catching the light so beautifully, and I could see the clock perfectly. Slowly I turned my head.

A woman was there. She wore her coat now, very black against her white stockings and her thick soft white shoes. Her hair was in a thick coil on the back of her head, and she was reading. She had a broad face, of very strong bones and clear skin, and large hazel eyes. Her eyebrows were dark and perfectly drawn, and when she looked up at me, I loved her expression. She closed the book soundlessly and smiled.

“You’re better,” she said. A rich, soft voice. A bit of bluish shadow beneath her eyes.

“Am I?” The noise hurt my ears. So many people. Doors swooshing open and shut.

She stood up and came across the corridor, and took my hand in hers.

“Oh, yes, much better.”

“Then I’ll live?”

“Yes,” she said. But she wasn’t sure. Did she mean for me to see that she wasn’t sure?

“Don’t let me die in this body,” I said, moistening my lips with my tongue. They felt so dry! Lord God, how I hated this body, hated the heave of the chest, hated even the voice coming from my lips, and the pain behind my eyes was unbearable.

“There you go again,” she said, her smile brightening.

“Sit with me.”

“I am. I told you I wouldn’t leave. I’ll stay here with you.”

“Help me and you help the devil,” I whispered.

“So you told me,” she said.

“Want to hear the whole tale?”

“Only if you stay calm as you tell me, if you take your time.”

“What a lovely face you have. What is your name?”

“Gretchen.”

“You’re a nun, aren’t you, Gretchen?”

“How did you know that?”

“I could tell. Your hands, for one thing, the little silver wedding band, and something about your face, a radiance—the radiance of those who believe. And the fact that you stayed with me, Gretchen, when the others told you to go on. I know nuns when I see them. I’m the devil and when I behold goodness I know it.”

Were those tears hovering in her eyes?

“You’re teasing me,” she said kindly. “There’s a little tag here on my pocket. It says I’m a nun, doesn’t it? Sister Marguerite.”

“I didn’t see it, Gretchen. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You’re better. Much better. I think you’re going to be all right.”

“I’m the devil, Gretchen. Oh, not Satan himself, Son of Morning, ben Sharar. But bad, very bad. Demon of the first rank, certainly.”

“You’re dreaming. It’s the fever.”

“Wouldn’t that be splendid? Yesterday I stood in the snow and tried to imagine just such a thing—that all my life of evil was but the dream of a mortal man. No such luck, Gretchen. The devil needs you. The devil’s crying. He wants you to hold his hand. You’re not afraid of the devil, are you?”

“Not if he requires an act of mercy. Sleep now. They’re coming to give you another shot. I’m not leaving. Here, I’ll bring the chair to the side of the bed so you can hold my hand.”

“What are you doing, Lestat?”

We were in our hotel suite now, much better place than that stinking hospital—I’ll take a good hotel suite over a stinking hospital anytime—and Louis had drunk her blood, poor helpless Louis.

“Claudia, Claudia, listen to me. Come round, Claudia … You’re ill, do you hear me? You must do as I tell you to get well.” I bit through the flesh of my own wrist, and when the blood began to spill, I put it to her lips. “That’s it, dear, more … ”

“Try to drink a little of this.” She slipped her hand behind