The tale of the body thief - By Anne Rice Page 0,39

room to the window, and pushed back the drape with his hand. He stood trying to see out into the snow-filled night.

“David, what could these apparitions have meant for you to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said, in a bitter discouraged voice. “That’s my point. I’m seventy-four, and I don’t know. I’ll die without knowing. And if there is no illumination, then so be it. That in itself is an answer, whether I am conscious enough to know it or not.”

“Come back and sit down, if you will. I like to see your face when you talk.”

He obeyed, almost automatically, seating himself and reaching for the empty glass, eyes shifting to the fire again.

“What do you think, Lestat, really? Inside of you? Is there a God or a Devil? I mean truly, what do you believe?”

I thought for a long time before I answered. Then:

“I do think God exists. I don’t like to say so. But I do. And probably some form of Devil exists as well. I admit—it’s a matter of the missing pieces, as we’ve said. And you might well have seen the Supreme Being and his Adversary in that Paris café. But it’s part of their maddening game that we can never figure it out for certain. You want a likely explanation for their behavior? Why they let you have a little glimpse? They wanted to get you embroiled in some sort of religious response! They play with us that way. They throw out visions and miracles and bits and pieces of divine revelation. And we go off full of zeal and found a church. It’s all part of their game, part of their ongoing and endless talk. And you know? I think your view of them—an imperfect God and a learning Devil—is just about as good as anyone else’s interpretation. I think you’ve hit on it.”

He was staring at me intently, but he didn’t reply.

“No,” I continued. “We aren’t meant to know the answers. We aren’t meant to know if our souls travel from body to body through reincarnation. We aren’t meant to know if God made the world. If He’s Allah or Yahweh or Shiva or Christ. He plants the doubts as He plants the revelations. We’re all His fools.”

Still he didn’t answer.

“Quit the Talamasca, David,” I said. “Go to Brazil before you’re too old. Go back to India. See the places you want to see.”

“Yes, I think I should do that,” he said softly. “And they’ll probably take care of it all for me. The elders have already met to discuss the entire question of David and his recent absences from the Motherhouse. They’ll retire me with a nice pension, of course.”

“Do they know that you’ve seen me?”

“Oh, yes. That’s part of the problem. The elders have forbidden contact. Very amusing really, since they are so desperate to lay eyes upon you themselves. They know when you come round the Motherhouse, of course.”

“I know they do,” I said. “What do you mean, they’ve forbidden contact?”

“Oh, just the standard admonition,” he said, eyes still on the burning log. “All very medieval, really, and based upon an old directive: ‘You are not to encourage this being, not to engage in or prolong conversation; if he persists in his visits, you are to do your best to lure him to some populated place. It is well known that these creatures are loath to attack when surrounded by mortals. And never, never are you to attempt to learn secrets from this being, or to believe for one moment that any emotions evinced by him are genuine, for these creatures dissemble with remarkable ability, and have been known, for reasons that cannot be analyzed, to drive mortals mad. This has befallen sophisticated investigators as well as hapless innocents with whom the vampires come in contact. You are warned to report any and all meetings, sightings, etc., to the elders without delay.’ ”

“Do you really know this by heart?”

“I wrote the directive myself,” he said, with a little smile. “I’ve given it to many other members over the years.”

“They know I’m here now?”

“No, of course not. I stopped reporting our meetings to them a long time ago.” He fell into his thoughts again, and then: “Do you search for God?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” I answered. “I can’t imagine a bigger waste of time, even if one has centuries to waste. I’m finished with all such quests. I look to the world around me now for truths, truths mired in the physical