The tale of the body thief - By Anne Rice Page 0,147
large white-tiled fireplace—David’s doing, no doubt—and the smell of coffee coming from the nearby kitchen, a room I had scarce entered in the years I had inhabited this place.
At once David stammered an apology. He hadn’t even checked into his hotel, so anxious was he to find me. He’d come here direct from the airport, and only gone out for a few little provisions so that he might spend a comfortable night keeping watch that I might come or think to call.
“Wonderful, very glad that you did,” I said, a little amused by his British politeness. I was so glad to see him, and here he was apologizing for making himself at home.
I tore off the wet overcoat and sat down at the computer.
“This will take only a moment,” I said, keying in the various commands, “and then I’ll tell you about everything. But what made you come? Did you suspect what happened!”
“Of course I did,” he said. “Don’t you know of the vampire murder in New York? Only a monster could have wrecked those offices. Lestat, why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you ask my help?”
“One moment,” I said. Already the little letters and figures were coming up on the screen. My accounts were in order. Had the fiend been into this system, I would have seen preprogrammed signals of invasion throughout. Of course there was no way to know for certain that he hadn’t attacked my accounts in European banks until I went into their files. And damn, I couldn’t remember the code words, and in fact, I was having a difficult time managing the simplest commands.
“He was right,” I muttered. “He warned me my thinking processes wouldn’t be the same.” I switched from the finances program into Wordstar, my means of writing, and immediately typed out a communication to my Paris agent, sending it through the phone modem, asking him for an immediate status report, and reminding him to take the utmost personal care as to his own safety. Over and out.
I sat back, heaving a deep breath, which immediately brought on a little fit of coughing, and realized that David was staring at me as if the sight were too shocking for him to absorb. Indeed, it was almost comical the way he was looking at me. Then again, he looked at Mojo, who was inspecting the place silently and a little sluggishly, eyes turning to me over and over for some command.
I snapped my fingers for Mojo to come to me and gave him a deep strong hug. David watched all this as if it were the weirdest thing in the world.
“Good Lord, you are really in that body,” he whispered. “Not just hovering inside, but anchored into the cells.”
“You’re telling me,” I said disgustedly. “It’s dreadful, the whole mess. And the others won’t help, David. I’m cast out.” I gritted my teeth in rage. “Cast out!” I went into a seething growl which inadvertently excited Mojo so that he at once licked my face.
“Of course I deserve it,” I said, stroking Mojo. “That’s the simplest thing about dealing with me, apparently. I always deserve the worst! The worst disloyalty, the worst betrayal, the worst abandonment! Lestat the scoundrel. Well, they have left this scoundrel entirely on his own.”
“I’ve been frantic to reach you,” he said, his voice at once controlled and subdued. “Your agent in Paris swore he couldn’t help me. I was going to try that address in Georgetown.” He pointed to the yellow pad on the table. “Thank God you’re here.”
“David, my worst fear is that the others have destroyed James and my body with him. This may be the only body I now possess.”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said with convincing equanimity. “Your little body borrower has left quite a trail. But come, get out of these wet clothes. You’re catching cold.”
“What do you mean, trail?”
“You know we keep track of such crimes. Now, please, the clothes.”
“More crimes after New York?” I asked excitedly. I let him coax me towards the fireplace, immediately glad of the warmth. I pulled off the damp sweater and shirt. Of course there was nothing to fit me in my various closets. And I realized I had forgotten my valise somewhere on Louis’s property last night. “New York was Wednesday night, was it not?”
“My clothes will fit you,” David said, immediately snatching the thought from my mind. He headed for a mammoth leather suitcase in the corner.
“What’s happened? What makes you think it’s James?”