"Come," I said to him. "It is time to go now, away from all this and to where we can be alone." I was trembling. How many times had I dreamed of this moment.
And yet it had come so quickly, and there were so many questions I should ask.
A sudden terrible shyness fell over me. I couldn't look at him. I thought of the intimacy we would soon experience, and I couldn't meet his gaze. My God, I was acting the way he had in New Orleans when I'd been in that strapping mortal body and pelting him with my rampant desire.
My heart was hammering with expectation. David, David in my arms. The blood of David passing into me. And mine into David, and then we would stand on the edge of the sea together as dark immortal brothers. I could scarce speak or even think.
I got up without looking at him, and I walked across the porch and down the steps. I knew he was following me. I was like Orpheus. One backward glance and he'd be torn away from me. Perhaps the glaring lights of a passing car would flash on my hair and eyes in such a way that he would suddenly be paralyzed with fear.
I led the way back down the pavement, past the sluggish parade of mortals in their beach finery, past the little sidewalk tables of the cafes. I went directly into the Park Central and through the lobby again with all its sparkling high-toned glamour and up the stairs to my rooms.
I heard him close the door behind me.
I stood at the windows, looking out again at that shining evening sky. My heart, be quiet! Do not hurry it. It is too important that each step be made with care.
Look at the clouds scudding so quickly away from paradise. Stars mere specks of glitter struggling in the pale flood of evening light.
There were things I must tell him, things I must explain. He would be the same for all time as he was at this moment; was there any small physical thing he wished to change? Shave the beard closer; trim the hair.
"None of that matters," he said, in that soft cultured English voice. "What's wrong?" So kind, as if I were the one who needed reassurance. "Isn't it what you wanted?"
"Oh, yes, truly yes. But you have to be sure you want it," I said, and only now I turned around.
He stood there in the shadows, so composed in his trim white linen suit, pale silk tie properly knotted at the neck. The light from the street shone brightly on his eyes, and flashed for one instant on the tiny gold stud in the tie.
"I can't explain it," I whispered. "It's happened so quickly, so suddenly, when I was sure it wouldn't. I'm afraid for you. Afraid you're making a terrible mistake."
"I want it," he said, but how strained his voice was, how dark, how without that bright lyric note. "I want it more than you can know. Do it now, please. Don't prolong my agony. Come to me. What can I do to invite you? To assure you? Oh, I've had longer than you know to brood on this decision. Remember how long I've known your secrets, all of you."
How strange his face looked, how hard his eyes, and how stiff and bitter his mouth.
"David, something is wrong," I said. "I know it is. Listen to me. We must talk it out together. It is the most crucial conversation perhaps that we will ever have. What's happened to make you want it? What was it? Our tune on the island together? Spell it out for me. I must understand." "You waste time, Lestat."
"Oh, but for this, one must take time, David, it's the very last time that time really matters."
I drew closer to him, deliberately letting his scent fill my nostrils, deliberately letting the scent of his blood come to me, and awaken the desire in me which cared little who he was or what I was-the sharp hunger for him that wanted only his death. The thirst twisted and snapped inside me like a great whip.
He stepped backwards. I saw fear in his eyes.
"No, don't be frightened. You think I would hurt you? How could I have beaten that stupid little Body Thief if it hadn't been for you?"
His face stiffened all over, eyes becoming smaller, his mouth stretching in what seemed a grimace. Why, how dreadful and unlike himself he looked. What in God's name was going on in his mind? Everything was wrong about this moment, this decision! There was no joy, no intimacy. It was wrong.
"Open to me!" I whispered.
He shook his head, eyes flashing as they narrowed again. "Won't it happen when the blood flows?" Brittle, his voice!
"Give me an image, Lestat, to hold in mind. An image to hold against fear."
I was confused. I wasn't sure I knew what he meant.
"Shall I think of you and how beautiful you are," he said tenderly, "and that we shall be together, companions always? Will that bring me through?"
"Think of India," I whispered. "Think of the mangrove forest, and when you were most happy . .. "
I wanted to say more, I wanted to say, no, not that, but I didn't know why! And the hunger surged in me, and the burning loneliness mingled with it, and once again I saw Gretchen, saw the pure horror in her face. I moved closer to him. David, David at last... Do it! and be done with talking, what do the images matter, do it! What's wrong with you that you fear to do it?
And this time I caught him firmly in my embrace.
There came his fear again, a spasm, but he did not truly struggle against me, and I savored it for one moment, this lush physical intimacy, the tall regal body hi my arms. I let my lips move over his dark gray hair, breathing in the familiar fragrance, I let my fingers cradle his head. And then my teeth broke through the surface of the skin before I meant to do it and the hot salted blood flowed over my tongue and filled my mouth.
David, David at last.
In a torrent the images came-the great forests of India, and the great gray elephants thundering past, knees lifted awkwardly, giant heads wagging, tiny ears flapping like loose leaves. Sunlight striking the forest. Where is the tiger? Oh, dear God, Lestat, you are the tiger! You've done it to him! That's why you didn't want him to think of this! And in a flash I saw him staring at me in the sunlit glade, David of years ago in splendid youth, smiling, and suddenly, for a split second, superimposed upon the image, or springing from within it like an unfolding flower, there appeared another figure, another man. It was a thin, emaciated creature with white hair, and cunning eyes. And I knew, before it vanished once more into the faltering and lifeless image of David, that it had been James!
This man in my arms was James!
I hurled him backwards, hand up to wipe the spilling blood from my lips.
"James!" I roared.
He fell against the side of the bed, eyes dazed, blood trickling onto his collar, one hand flung out against me. "Now don't be hasty!" he cried in that old familiar cadence of his own, chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his face.
"Damn you into hell," I roared again, staring at those frenzied glittering eyes in David's face.
I lunged at him, hearing a sudden spurt from him of desperate crazed laughter, and more slurred and hurried words.
"You fool! It's Talbot's body! You don't want to hurt Talbot's-"
But it was too late. I tried to stop myself but my hand had closed around his throat, and I'd already flung the body at the wall!
In horror, I saw him slam into the plaster. I saw the blood splatter from the back of his head, and I heard the ugly crunch of the broken wall behind him, and when I reached out to catch him, he fell directly into my arms. In a wide bovine stare he looked at me, his mouth working desperately to make the words come out.
"Look what you've done, you fool, you idiot. Look what... look what. . ."
"Stay in that body, you little monster!" I said between my clenched teeth. "Keep it alive!"
He was gasping. A thin tiny stream of blood poured out of his nose and down into his mouth. His eyes rolled. I held him up, but his feet were dangling as if he were paralyzed. "You . . . you fool . . . call Mother, call her ... Mother, Mother, Raglan needs you .. .