"It's me, Gretchen. I won't hurt you. It's the farthest thing from my mind to hurt you. I've come because I promised I would come."
"I... I don't believe you." She backed away on the wooden floor, her rubber heels making the softest sound.
"Gretchen, don't be frightened of me. I wanted you to know that what I told you was true." I spoke so softly. Could she hear me?
I could see her struggling to clear her vision as only seconds ago I had struggled to clear my own. Her heart beat fiercely inside her, breasts moving beautifully beneath the stiff white cotton, the rich blood rising suddenly in her face.
"I'm here, Gretchen. I've come to thank you. Here, let me give you this for your mission."
Stupidly, I reached into my pockets; I withdrew the lucre of the Body Thief in thick handfuls and held it out, my fingers trembling as her fingers trembled, the money looking soiled and foolish, like so much rubbish.
"Take it, Gretchen. Here. It will help the children." I turned and saw the candle again-that same candle! Why the candle? I laid the money down beside it, hearing the boards creak under my weight as I stepped to the little table.
As I turned to look back at her, she came towards me, fearfully, eyes wide.
"Who are you?" she whispered for the third time. How large her eyes, how dark the pupils, as they danced over me, like ringers drawn to something that would burn them. "I'm asking you again to tell me the truth!"
"Lestat, whom you nursed in your own house, Gretchen. Gretchen, I've recovered my true form. I came because I promised you I would come."
I could scarcely bear it, my old anger kindling as the fear intensified in her, as her shoulders stiffened and her arms came tightly together, and the hand clenching the chain at her neck began to shake.
"I don't believe you," she said, in the same strangled whisper, her entire body recoiling though she did not even take a step.
"No, Gretchen. Don't look at me in fear or as if you despise me. What have I done to you that you should look at me that way? You know my voice. You know what you did for me. I came to thank you-"
"Liar!"
"No, that's not true. I came because ... because I wanted to see you again."
Lord God, was I weeping? Were my emotions now as volatile as my power? And she would see the blood in streaks on my face and it would scare her even more. I could not bear the look in her eyes.
I turned, and stared at the little candle. I struck the wick with my invisible will and saw the flame leap up, a tiny yellow tongue. Mon Dieu, that same play of shadow on the wall. She gasped as she stared at it and back at me, as the illumination spread around us and she saw for the first time very clearly and unmistakably the eyes that were fixed upon her, the hair that framed the face which looked at her, the gleaming fingernails of my hands, the white teeth just visible perhaps behind my parted lips. "Gretchen, don't be afraid of me. In the name of truth, look at me. You made me promise I would come.
Gretchen, I didn't lie to you. You saved me. I am here, and there is no God, Gretchen, you told me so. From anyone else it wouldn't have mattered, but you said it yourself."
Her hands went to her lips as she drew back, the little chain falling loose so that I saw the gold cross hi the candle's light. Oh, thank God, a cross not a locket! She stepped back again. She could not stop the impulsive motion.
Her words came in a low faltering whisper:
"Get away from me, unclean spirit! Get out of this house of God!"
"I won't hurt you!"
"Get away from these little ones!"
"Gretchen. I won't hurt the children."
"In the name of God, get away from me ... go." Her right hand groped again for the cross and she held it towards me, her face flushed and her lips wet and loose and trembling in her hysteria, her eyes devoid of reason as she spoke again. I saw it was a crucifix with the tiny twisted body of the dead Christ.
"Go out of this house. God Himself protects it. He protects the children. Go."
"In the name of truth, Gretchen," I answered, my voice as low as hers, and as full of feeling. "I lay with you! I am here."
"Liar," she hissed. "Liar!" Her body was shaking so violently, it seemed she would lose her balance and fall.
"No, it's the truth. If nothing else is true, it's true. Gretchen, I won't hurt the children. I won't hurt you."
In another instant, surely, she would lose her reason altogether, helpless screams would break from her, and the whole night would hear her, and every poor soul of the compound would come outdoors to heed her, to take up perhaps the very same cry.
But she remained there, shaking all over, and only dry sobs came suddenly from her open mouth.
"Gretchen, I'll go now, I'll leave you if that's what you really want. But I kept my promise to you! Is there nothing more I can do?"
A little cry came from one of the beds behind her, and then a moan from another, and she turned her head frantically this way and that.
Then she bolted towards me, and past me through the small office, papers flying off the desk as she brushed past it, the screen door banging behind her as she ran out into the night.
I heard her distant sobbing as, in a daze, I turned around.
I saw the rain falling in a thin soundless mist. I saw her far across the clearing .already and racing towards the chapel doors.
I told you you would hurt her. I turned back and looked down the shadowy length of the ward.
"You're not there. I'm done with you!" I whispered. The light of the candle showed her clearly now even though she remained at the far end of the room. She was swinging her white-stockinged leg still, heel of her black slipper striking the leg of the chair.
"Go away," I said as gently as I could. "It's over." The tears were running down my face, blood tears. Had Gretchen seen them?
"Go away," I said again. "It's finished and I'm going too." It seemed she smiled, but she did not smile. Her face became the picture of all innocence, the face of the dream locket. And in the stillness, as I stood transfixed, looking at her, the entire image remained but ceased altogether to move. Then it dissolved.
I saw only an empty chair.
Slowly I turned back to the door. I wiped at my tears again, hating them, and put the handkerchief away.
Flies buzzed against the screen of the door. How clear the rain was, pelting the earth now. There came that soft swelling sound as the rain came down harder, as if the sky had slowly opened its mouth and sighed. Something forgotten. What was it? The candle, ah, blow out the candle, lest a fire start and hurt these tender little ones!
And look at the far end-the little blond child in the oxygen tent, the sheet of crinkled plastic flashing as if made up of bits and pieces of light. How could you have been so foolish as to make a flame in this room?
I put out the light with a pinch of my fingers. I emptied all my pockets. I laid down all the soiled and curling bills, hundreds upon hundreds of dollars, and the few coins I found as well.
And then I went out, and I walked slowly past the chapel with its open doors. Through the gentle downpour, I heard her praying, her low rapid whispers, and then through the open entrance, I saw her kneeling before the altar, the reddened fire of a candle flickering beyond her, as she held her arms outstretched in the form of a cross.
I wanted to go. It seemed in the depths of my bruised soul I wanted nothing more. But something again held me. I had smelled the sharp unmistakable scent of fresh blood.
It came from the chapel, and it was not the blood pumping within her, it was blood that was flowing free from a new wound.
I drew closer, careful not to make the slightest noise, until I stood in the chapel door. The smell grew stronger. And then I saw the blood dripping from her outstretched hands. I saw it on the floor, flowing in rivulets from her feet.