The tale of the body thief - By Anne Rice Page 0,49
me back to him. “Forgive me for sounding like the Superior General of a religious order, but this is something you simply cannot do! First off, where did he get that body? What if he did, in fact, steal it? Surely no handsome young man cheerfully gave it over without so much as a qualm! This is a sinister being, and must be recognized as such. You can’t deliver to him a body as powerful as your own.”
I heard all this, I understood it, but I couldn’t absorb it. “Think of it, David,” I said, knowing that I sounded mad and only barely coherent. “David, I could be a mortal man.”
“Would you kindly wake up and pay attention to me, please! This is not a matter of comical stories and Lovecraftian pieces of gothic romance.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, and crossly slugged down a swallow of wine, and then reached across the table and took hold of my wrist.
I should have let him lift it and clasp it. But I didn’t yield and he realized within a second that he could no more move my wrist away from the table than he could move that of a statue made of granite.
“That’s it, right there!” he declared. “You can’t play with this. You can’t take the risk that it will work, and this fiend, whoever he is, will have possession of your strength.”
I shook my head. “I know what you’re saying, but, David, think of it. I have to talk to him! I have to find him and find out whether this can be done. He himself is unimportant. It’s the process that’s important. Can it be done?”
“Lestat, I’m begging you. Don’t explore this any further. You’re going to make another ghastly mistake!”
“What do you mean?” It was so hard to pay attention to what he was saying. Where was that wily fiend right now? I thought of his eyes, how beautiful they would be if he were not looking out of them. Yes, it was a fine body for this experiment! Wherever did he get it? I had to find out.
“David, I’m going to leave you now.”
“No, you’re not! Stay right where you are, or so help me God I’ll send a legion of hobgoblins after you, every filthy little spirit I trafficked with in Rio de Janeiro! Now listen to me.”
I laughed. “Keep your voice down,” I said. “We’ll be thrown out of the Ritz.”
“Very well, we’ll strike a bargain. I’ll go back to London and hit the computer. I’ll boot up every case of body switching in our files. Who knows what we’ll discover? Lestat, maybe he’s in that body and it’s deteriorating around him, and he can’t get out or stop the deterioration. Did you think of that?”
I shook my head. “It’s not deteriorating. I would have caught the scent. There’s nothing wrong with that body.”
“Except maybe he stole it from its rightful owner and that poor soul is stumbling around in his body, and what that looks like, we haven’t a clue.”
“Calm down, David, please. You go on back to London, and hit the files, as you described. I’m going to find this little bastard. I’m going to hear what he has to say. Don’t worry! I won’t proceed without consulting you. And if I do decide—”
“You won’t decide! Not until you talk to me.”
“All right.”
“This is a pledge?”
“On my honor as a bloodthirsty murderer, yes.”
“I want a phone number in New Orleans.”
I stared at him hard for a moment. “All right. I’ve never done this before. But here it is.” I gave him the phone number of my French Quarter rooftop rooms. “Aren’t you going to write it down?”
“I’ve memorized it.”
“Then farewell!”
I rose from the table, struggling, in my excitement, to move like a human. Ah, move like a human. Think of it, to be inside a human body. To see the sun, really see it, a tiny blazing ball in a blue sky! “Oh, and, David, I almost forgot, everything’s covered here. Call my man. He’ll arrange for your flight … ”
“I don’t care about that, Lestat. Listen to me. Set an appointment to speak with me about this, right now! You dare vanish on me, I’ll never—”
I stood there smiling down at him. I could tell I was charming him. Of course he wouldn’t threaten never to speak to me again. How absurd. “Ghastly mistakes,” I said, unable to stop smiling. “Yes, I do make them, don’t I?”