Merrick by Anne Rice Page B

“And what happened in the jungles of Guatemala? Answer me. You haven’t forgotten. The tent, the village, you remember. Don’t lie to me, David. I know what’s inside you. I want to know what you’ve become.”
    “Hush, Merrick,” I said, but I couldn’t restrain myself. I let my teeth touch her flesh with each kiss. “What happened in the jungles of Guatemala,” I struggled to say, “was a mortal sin.”
    I covered her mouth, kissing her and devouring her tongue but not letting my evil teeth harm her. I felt her wipe my brow with a soft cloth, possibly her scarf or a handkerchief, but I pushed it away.
    “Don’t do that,” I told her. I feared that a few beads of blood sweat might have appeared. She went back to kissing me and whispering her words of Come Hither against my skin.
    I was miserable. I wanted her. I knew that even the smallest drink of her blood would prove too risky for me utterly; I’d feel I possessed her after that, and she, in spite of all her seeming innocence on the matter, might well find herself my slave.
    Elder vampires had warned me on just about every aspect of what could happen to me. And Armand and Lestat had both been adamant that the “little drink” must not be conceived of as harmless. I was furious suddenly.
    I reached to the back of her head and ripped the leather barrette out of her thick brown hair, letting the barrette and its cross-pin fall carelessly, and I ran my fingers deep against her scalp and kissed her lips again. Her eyes were closed.
    I was immensely relieved when we reached the spacious entrance of the Windsor Court Hotel. She took another drink of her rum before the doorman helped her out of the cab, and in the manner of most experienced drinkers seemed sober on her feet when in fact she was not sober at all.
    Having obtained the suite for her earlier, I took her directly to it, unlocked the door, and set her down on the bed.
    The suite was quite fine, perhaps the finest in town, with its tasteful traditional furnishings and muted lights. And I had ordered bountiful vases of flowers for her.
    It was nothing, however, that a member of the Talamasca wouldn’t expect. We were never known for economy with our traveling members. And all my many memories of her encircled me like vapor, and wouldn’t let me loose.
    She appeared to notice nothing. She drank the rest of the rum without ceremony and settled back against the pillows, her bright green eyes closing almost at once.
    For a long time I merely looked at her. She appeared to have been tossed on the thick velvet counterpane and its nest of cushions, her white cotton clothes thin and friable, her long slender ankles and leather-sandaled feet rather Biblical, her face with its high cheekbones and soft jawline exquisite in sleep.
    I could not be sorry that I had made this friendship. I could not. But I reiterated my vow: David Talbot, you will not harm this creature. Somehow Merrick will be better for all this; somehow knowledge will enhance Merrick; somehow Merrick’s soul will triumph no matter how badly Louis and I fail.
    Then, seeing further to the suite—that the flowers ordered had indeed been properly set out on the coffee table before the parlor sofa, on the desk, on her dressing table; that the bath held abundant cosmetics for her comfort; that a great thick terry cloth robe and slippers were in their proper place in the closet; and that a full bar of small bottles awaited her, along with a fifth of her rum which I had provided—I kissed her, left a set of keys on the night table, and went out.
    A brief stop at the concierge’s desk, with the requisite offering, assured she’d be undisturbed for as long as she wished to stay at the hotel and that she might have anything that she liked.
    I then made up my mind to walk to our flat in the Rue Royale.
    However, before I left the beautifully lighted and somewhat busy lobby of the hotel a faint dizziness surprised me and I was assaulted by the peculiar