Rice Anne Merrick [en]

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I kissed him and left him there, and went to my lair, more ready for oblivion perhaps than I had ever been before.
22
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, I went in search of Merrick.
Her home in the derelict neighborhood was dark and uninhabited. Only the caretaker remained on the property. And it
was no problem for me to climb up to the second story window over the shed to see that the old fellow was contentedly
inside, drinking his beer and watching his monstrous color TV.
I was dreadfully disconcerted. I felt that Merrick had all but promised to meet me, and where else if not in the old
house?
I had to find her. I searched the city for her tirelessly, using every ounce of telepathic ability which I possessed.
As for Louis, he was also absent. I returned to the flat in the Rue Royale more than four times during my search for
Merrick. And at no time did I find Louis or the simplest evidence that he'd been there.
At last, very much against my better judgment, but desperate, I approached Oak Haven, the Motherhouse, to see if I
could spy Merrick within.
The discovery took only a matter of minutes. As I stood in the thick oak forest to the far north of the building, I could
see her tiny figure in the library.
Indeed Merrick sat in the very oxblood leather chair which she'd claimed for her own as a child when we first met.
Nestled in the cracked old leather, she appeared to be sleeping, but as I drew closer my fine vampiric senses confirmed
that she was drunk. I could make out the bottle of Flor de Ca�a rum beside her, and the glass. Both were empty.
As for the other members, one was busy in the very same room, going over the shelves for some seemingly routine
matter, and several others were at home upstairs.
I couldn't conceivably approach Merrick where she was. And I was keenly aware that Merrick might have planned this.
And if she had planned it, it might have been for her own mental safety, a cause of which I highly approved.
Once released from that tidy little spectacle Merrick out cold with no regard for what the other members thought of
her I resumed my search for Louis from one end of the town to the next with no luck.
The hours before dawn found me striding back and forth before the slumbering figure of Lestat in the darkened chapel,
explaining to him that Merrick had delivered herself into hiding and that Louis appeared to be gone.
At last I sat down on the cold marble floor, as I had done the night before.
"I'd know it, wouldn't I?" I demanded of my sleeping master. "If Louis has put an end to himself, isn't that so? I'd feel it
somehow, wouldn't I? If it happened at dawn yesterday, I would have felt it before I ever closed my eyes."
Lestat gave no answer and there was no promise in his posture or facial expression that he ever would.
I felt as if I were speaking fervently to one of the statues of the saints.
When the second night went in exactly the same fashion, I was thoroughly unnerved.
Whatever Merrick had done by day, I couldn't imagine, but once again she was drunk in the library, a slouched figure,
quite alone now, in one of her splendid silk shirtwaist dresses, this one a vivid red. While I watched from a safe distance,
one of the members, an old man whom I once knew and loved dearly, came into the library and covered up Merrick with a
white wool blanket that looked quite soft.
I sped off lest I be detected.
As for Louis, as I prowled those portions of the city which were always his favorites, I cursed myself that I'd been so
respectful of his mind that I'd never learnt to read it, so respectful of his privacy that I'd never learnt to scan for his
presence; cursed myself that I'd not bound him to a strong promise to meet me in the flat in the Rue Royale at a certain
time.
At last the third night came.
Having given up on Merrick to do anything but intoxicate herself thoroughly with rum in her typical fashion, I went
directly to the flat in the Rue Royale with the purpose of writing a note for Louis, should it be that he was stopping in
when I was not there.
I was filled with misery. It now seemed entirely possible to me that Louis no longer existed in his earthly form. It
seemed entirely reasonable that he had let the morning sun cremate him precisely as he wanted, and that I was writing
words in this note that would never be read.
Nevertheless, I sat down at Lestat's fancy desk in the back parlor, the desk which faces the room, and I wrote hastily.
"'You must talk with me. You must let me talk with you. It's unfair for you not to do this. I am so anxious on your
behalf. Remember, L., that I did what you asked of me. I cooperated with you completely. Of course I had my motives.
I'm willing to admit them candidly. I missed her. My heart was breaking for her. But you must let me know how things go
with you.'"
I had scarcely finished writing the initial "D," when I looked up and saw Louis standing in the hallway door.
Quite unharmed, his black curly hair combed, he stood looking at me searchingly, and I, pleasantly shocked, sat back
and gave a deep sigh.
"Look at you, and here I've been racing around like a madman," I said. I surveyed his handsome gray velvet suit, and the
dark-violet tie he wore with it. In amazement I noted the jeweled rings on his hands.
"Why all this unusual attention to your person?" I asked. "Talk to me, man. I'm quite ready to go out of my mind."
He shook his head, and gestured quickly with his longer slender hand for me to be quiet. He sat down on the couch
across the room and stared at me.
"I've never seen you so fancily dressed," I said. "You're positively dapper. What's happened?"
"I don't know what's happened," he said almost sharply. "You have to tell me." He gestured urgently. "Come here,
David, take your old chair here, sit close to me."
I did as I was asked.
He wasn't only handsomely turned out, he wore a faint masculine perfume.
His eyes flashed on me with a nervous energy.
"I can't think of anything but her, David. I tell you, it's as if I never loved Claudia," he confessed, his voice breaking. "I
mean it, it's as if I never knew love or grief before I met Merrick. It's as if I'm Merrick's slave. No matter where I go, no
matter what I do, I think of Merrick," he declared. "When I feed, the victim turns to Merrick in my very arms. Hush, don't
say anything till I'm finished. I think of Merrick when I lie in my coffin before the coming sunlight. I think of Merrick
when I wake up. I must go to Merrick, and as soon as I've fed, I go to where I can see her, David, yes, near the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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