The Tale of the Body Thief (The Vampire Chronicles #4) - Page 9

EIGHT

THE next night, I went at once to Jackson Square. The terrible norther had finally come down into New Orleans, bringing with it a freezing wind. This sort of thing can happen at any time during the winter months, though some years it happens not at all. I'd stopped at my rooftop flat to put on a heavy wool overcoat, delighted as before that I had such feeling now in my newly bronzed skin.

A few tourists braved the weather to visit the cafes and bakeries still open near the cathedral; and the evening traffic was noisy and hurried. The greasy old Cafe du Monde was crowded behind its closed doors. I saw him immediately. What luck.

They had chained the gates of the square, as they always did now at sunset, a dreadful annoyance, and he was outside, facing the cathedral, looking anxiously about.

I had a moment to study him before he realized I was there. He was a little taller than I am, six feet two, I figured, and he was extremely well built, as I'd seen before. I'd been right about the age. The body couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. He was clad in very expensive clothes-a fur-lined raincoat, very well tailored, and a thick scarlet cashmere scarf. When he saw me, a spasm passed through him, of pure anxiety and mad delight. That awful glittering smile came over him and vainly trying to conceal his panic, he fixed his eyes upon me as I made a slow, humanlike approach.

Ah, but you do look like an angel, Monsieur de Lioncourt, he whispered breathlessly, and how splendid your darkened skin. What a lovely enhancement. Forgive me for not saying so before.

So you're here, Mr. James, I said, raising my eyebrows. What's the proposition I don't like you. Talk fast.

Don't be so rude, Monsieur de Lioncourt, he said. It would be a dreadful mistake to offend me, really it would. Yes, a voice exactly like David's voice. Same generation, most likely. And something of India in it, no doubt.

You're quite right on that, he said. I spent many years in India too. And a little time in Australia and Africa as well.

Ah, so you can read my thoughts very easily, I said.

No, not as easily as you might think, and now probably not at all.

I'm going to kill you, I said, if you don't tell me how you've managed to follow me and what you want,

You know what I want, he said, laughing mirthlessly and anxiously under his breath, his eyes fixing on me and then veering away. I told you through the stories, but I can't talk here in the freezing cold. This is worse than Georgetown, which is where I live, by the way. I was hoping to escape this sort of weather. And why ever did you drag me to London and Paris at this time of year? More dry anxious spasms of laughter. Obviously he couldn't stare at me for more than a minute before glancing away as if I were a blinding light. It was bitter cold in London. I hate cold. This is the tropics, is it not Ah, you with your sentimental dreams of winter snow.

This last remark stunned me before I could conceal it. I was enraged for one silent instant, and then I regained my control.

Come, the cafe, I said, pointing to the old French Market at the other side of the square. I hurried ahead along the pavement. I was too confused and excited to risk another word.

The cafe was extremely noisy but warm. I led the way to a table in the farthest corner from the door, ordered the famous cafe au lait for both of us, and sat there in rigid silence, faintly distracted by the stickiness of the little table, and grimly fascinated by him, as he shivered, unwound his red scarf anxiously, then put it on again, and finally pulled off his fine leather gloves, and stuffed them in his pockets, and then took them out again, and put on one of them, and laid the other one on the table and then snatched it up again, and put it on as well.

There was something positively horrible about him, about the way this alluringly splendid body was pumped up with his devious, jittery spirit, and cynical fits of laughter. Yet I couldn't take my eyes off him. In some devilish way I enjoyed watching him. And I think he knew it.

There was a provocative intelligence lurking behind this flawless, beautiful face. He made me realize how intolerant I had become of anyone truly young.

Suddenly the coffee was set down before us, and I wrapped my naked hands around the warm cup. I let the steam rise in my face. He watched this, with his large clear brown eyes, as if he were the one who was fascinated, and now he tried to hold my gaze steadily and calmly, which he found very hard. Delicious mouth, pretty eyelashes, perfect teeth.

What the hell's the matter with you? I asked.

You know. You've figured it out. I'm not fond of this body, Monsieur de Lioncourt. A body thief has his little difficulties, you know.

Is that what you are?

Yes, a body thief of the first rank. But then you knew that when you agreed to see me, did you not You must forgive me my occasional clumsiness, I have been for most of my life a lean if not emaciated man. Never in such good health. He gave a sigh, the youthful face for a moment sad.

But those chapters are closed now, he said with sudden discomfort. Let me come to the point immediately, out of respect for your enormous preternatural intellect and vast experience-

Don't mock me, you little pissant! I said under my breath. **You play with me, I'll tear you apart slowly. I told you I don't like you. Even your little title for yourself I don't like.

That shut him up. He canned down altogether. Perhaps he lost his temper, or was frozen with terror. I think it was simply that he stopped being so fearful and became coldly angry instead.

All right, he said softly, and soberly, without all the frenzy. I want to trade bodies with you. I want yours for a week. I'll see to it that you have this body. It's young, it's in perfect health. You like the look of it, obviously. I shall show you various certificates of health if you wish. The body was quite thoroughly tested and examined right before I took possession of it. Or stole it. It's quite strong; you can see that. Obviously, it's strong, quite remarkably strong-

How can you do it?

We do it together, Monsieur de Lioncourt, he said very politely, his tone becoming more civil and courteous with each sentence he spoke. There can be no question of body theft when I'm dealing with a creature such as you.

But you've tried, haven't you?

He studied me for a moment, clearly unsure as to how he should answer. Well, you can't blame me for that now, can you? he said imploringly. Any more than I can blame you for drinking blood. He smiled as he said the word blood. But really I was simply trying to get your attention, which isn't an easy thing to do. He seemed thoughtful, utterly sincere. Besides, cooperation is always involved on some level, no matter how submerged that level may be.

Yes, I said, but what are the actual mechanics, if that isn't too crude a word. How do we cooperate with each other! Be specific with me. I don't believe this can be done.

Oh, come now, of course you do, he suggested gently, as if he were a patient teacher. It seemed almost an impersonation of David, without David's vigor. How else would I have managed to take ownership of this body? He made a little illustrative gesture as he continued. We will meet at an appropriate place. Then we will rise out of our bodies, which you know very well how to do and have so eloquently described in your writing, and then we will take possession of each other's bodies. There's nothing to it really, except complete courage and an act of will. He lifted the cup, his hand trembling violently, and he drank a mouthful of the hot coffee. For you, the test will be the courage, nothing more.

What will keep me anchored in the new body?

There'll be no one in there, Monsieur de Lioncourt, to push you out. This is entirely different from possession, you understand. Oh, possession is a battle. When you enter into this body, there will be not the slightest resistance from it. You can remain until you choose to disengage.

It's too puzzling! I said, with obvious annoyance. I know reams have been written on these questions, but something doesn't quite .. .

Let me try to put it in perspective, he said, voice hushed and almost exquisitely accommodating. We're dealing here with science, but it is science which has not yet been fully codified by scientific minds. What we have are the memoirs of poets and occult adventurers, quite incapable of anatomizing what takes place.

Exactly. As you pointed out, I've done it myself, traveled out of the body. Yet I don't know what takes place. Why doesn't the body die when one leaves it I don't understand. The soul has more than one part, as does the brain. Surely you know that a child can be born without a cerebellum, yet the body can live if it has what is called the brain stem. Dreadful thought.

Happens all the time, I assure you. Victims of accidents in which the brain is damaged irretrievably can still breathe and . even yawn in their slumber, as the lower brain carries on. And you can possess such bodies? Oh, no, I need a healthy brain in order to take full possession, absolutely must have all those cells in good working order and able to lock into the invading mind Mark my words, Monsieur de Lioncourt. Brain is not mind. But again, we are not talking of possession, but of something infinitely finer than that. Allow me to continue, please. Go ahead.

As I was saying, the soul has more than one part, in the same manner as the brain. The larger part of it-identity, personality, consciousness, if you will-this is what springs loose and travels; but a small residual soul remains. It keeps the vacant body animate, so to speak, for otherwise vacancy would mean death, of course.

I see. The residual soul animates the brain stem; that is what you mean.

Yes. When you rise out of your body, you will leave a residual soul there. And when you come into this body, you will find the residual soul there as well. It's the very same residual soul I found when I took possession. And that soul will lock with any higher soul eagerly and automatically; it wants to embrace that higher soul. Without it, it feels incomplete. And when death occurs both souls leave? Precisely. Both souls go together, the residual soul and the larger soul, in a violent evacuation, and then the body is a mere lifeless shell and begins its decay. He waited, observing me with the same seemingly sincere patience, and then he said:

The tale of the Body Thief

Believe me, the force of actual death is much stronger. There's no danger at all in what we propose to do.

But if this little residual soul is so damned receptive, why can't I, with all my power, jolt some little mortal soul right out of its skin, and move in?

Because the larger soul would try to reclaim its body, Monsieur de Lioncourt, even if there were no understanding of the process, it would try again and again. Souls do not want to be without a body. And even though the residual soul welcomes the invader, something in it always recognizes the particular soul of which it was once a part. It will choose that soul if there is a battle. And even a bewildered soul can make a powerful attempt to reclaim its mortal frame.

I said nothing, but much as I suspected him, indeed reminded myself to be on guard, I found a continuity in all he said.

Possession is always a bloody struggle, he reiterated. Look what happens with evil spirits, ghosts, that sort of thing. They're always driven out eventually, even if the victor never knows what took place. When the priest comes with his incense and his holy-water mumbo jumbo, he is calling on that residual soul to oust the intruder and draw the old soul back in.

But with the cooperative switch, both souls have new bodies.

Precisely. Believe me, if you think you can hop into a human body without my assistance, well, give it a try, and you'll see what I mean. You'll never really experience the five senses of a mortal as long as the battle's raging inside.

His manner became even more careful, confidential. Look at this body again, Monsieur de Lioncourt, he said with beguiling softness. It can be yours, absolutely and truly yours. His pause seemed as precise suddenly as ms words. It was a year ago you first saw it in Venice. It's been host to an intruder without interruption for all of that time. It will play host to you.

Where did you get it?

Stole it, I told you, he said. The former owner is dead.

You have to be more specific.

Oh, must I, really I do so hate to incriminate myself.

I'm not a mortal officer of the law, Mr. James. I'm a vampire. Speak in words I can understand.

He gave a soft, faintly ironic laugh. The body was carefully chosen, he said. The former owner had no mind left. Oh, there was nothing organically wrong with him, absolutely nothing. As I told you, he'd been quite thoroughly tested. He'd become a great quiet laboratory animal of sorts. He never moved. Never spoke. His reason had been hopelessly shattered, no matter how the healthy cells of the brain continued to pop and crackle along, as they are wont to do. I accomplished the switch in stages. Jolting him out of his body was simple. It was luring him down into my old body and leaving him there which took the skill.

Where is your old body now?

Monsieur de Lioncourt, there is simply no way that the old soul will ever come knocking; that I guarantee.

I want to see a picture of your old body.

Whatever for?

Because it will tell me things about you, more perhaps than you yourself are telling me. I demand it. I won't proceed without it.

You won't? He retained the polite smile. What if I get up and leave here?

I'll kill your splendid new body as soon as you try. No one in this cafe will even notice. They'll think you're drunk and that you've tumbled into my arms. I do that sort of thing all the time.

He fell silent, but I could see that he was calculating fiercely, and then I realized how much he was savoring all this, that he had been all along. He was like a great actor, deeply immersed in the most challenging part of his career.

He smiled at me, with startling seductiveness, and then, carefully removing his right glove, he drew a little item out of his pocket and put it in my hand. An old photograph of a gaunt man with thick white wavy hair. I judged him to be perhaps fifty. He wore some sort of white uniform with a little black bow tie.

He was a very nice looking man, actually, much more delicate in appearance than David, but he had the same sort of British elegance about him, and his smile was not unpleasant. He was leaning on the railing of what might have been the deck of a ship. Yes, it was a ship.

You knew I'd ask for this, didn't you?

Sooner or later, he said.

When was this taken?

That's of no importance. Why on earth do you want to know? He betrayed just a little annoyance, but then he covered it at once. It was ten years ago, he said with a slight sinking of the voice. Will it do?

And so that makes you .. . what Mid-sixties, perhaps?

I'll settle for that, he said with a very broad and intimate smile.

How did you learn all this Why haven't others perfected this trick?

He looked me up and down and a little coldly, and I thought his composure might snap. Then he retreated into his polite manner again. Many people have done it, he said, his voice assuming a tone of special confidence. Your friend David Talbot could have told you that. He didn't want to. He lies, like all those wizards in the Talamasca. They're religious. They think they can control people; they use their knowledge for control.

How do you know about them?

I was a member of their order, he said, his eyes brightening playfully, as he smiled again. They kicked me out of it. They accused me of using my powers for gain. What else is there, Monsieur de Lioncourt What do you use your powers for, if not for gain?

So, Louis had been right. I didn't speak. I tried to scan him but it was useless. Instead, I received a strong sense of his physical presence, of the heat emanating from him, of the hot fount of his blood. Succulent, that was the word for this body, no matter what one thought of his soul. I disliked the feeling because it made me want to kill him now.

I found out about you through the Talamasca, he said, assuming the same confidential tone as before. Of course I was familiar with your little fictions. I read all that sort of thing. That's why I used those short stories to communicate with you. But it was in the archives of the Talamasca that I discovered that your fictions weren't fictions at all.

I was silently enraged that Louis had figured it right.

All right, I said. I understand all this about the divided brain and the divided soul, but what if you don't want to give my body back to me after we've made this little switch, and I'm not strong enough to reclaim it; what's to keep you from making off with my body for good?

He was quite still for a moment, and then said with slow measured words: A very large bribe.

Ah.

Ten million dollars in a bank account waiting for me when I repossess this body. He reached into his coat pocket again and drew out a small plastic card with a thumbnail picture of his new face on it. There was also a clear fingerprint, and his name, Raglan James, and a Washington address.

You can arrange it, surely. A fortune that can only be claimed by the man with this face and this fingerprint You don't think I'd forfeit a fortune of that size, do you Besides, I don't want your body forever. You don't even want it forever, do you You've been far too eloquent on the subject of your agonies, your angst, your extended and noisy descent into hell, etcetera. No. I only want your body for a little while. There are many bodies out there, waiting for me to take possession of them, many kinds of adventure. I studied the little card. Ten million, I said. That's quite a price. It's nothing to you and you know it. You have billions squirreled away in international banks under all your colorful aliases. A creature with your formidable powers can acquire all the riches of the world. It's only the tawdry vampires of second-rate motion pictures who tramp through eternity living hand to mouth, as we both know.

He blotted his lips fastidiously with a linen handkerchief, then drank a gulp of his coffee.

I was powerfully intrigued, he said, by your descriptions of the vampire Armand in The Queen of the Damned-how he used his precious powers to acquire wealth, and built his great enterprise, the Night Island, such a lovely name. It rather took my breath away. He smiled, and then went on, the voice amiable and smooth as before. It wasn't very difficult for me to document and annotate your assertions, you realize, though as we both know, your mysterious comrade has long ago abandoned the Night Island, and has vanished from the realm of computer records-at least as far as I can ascertain. I didn't say anything.

Besides, for what I offer, ten million is a bargain. Who else has made you such an offer There isn't anyone else-at the moment, that is-who can or will.

And suppose / don't want to switch back at the end of the week? I asked. Suppose I want to be human forever. That's perfectly fine with me, he said graciously. I can get rid of your body anytime I want. There are lots of others who'll take it off my hands. He gave me a respectful and admiring smile.

What are you going to do with my body?

Enjoy it. Enjoy the strength, the power! I've had everything the human body has to offer-youth, beauty, resilience. I've even been in the body of a woman, you know. And by the way, I don't recommend that at all. Now I want what you have to offer. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. If there were any corporeal angels hanging about, well, I might approach one of them.

The Talamasca has no record of angels?

He hesitated, then gave a small contained laugh. Angels are pure spirit, Monsieur de Lioncourt, he said. We are talking bodies, no I am addicted to the pleasures of the flesh. And vampires are fleshly monsters, are they not They thrive on blood. Again, a light came into his eyes when he said the word blood.

What's your game? I asked. I mean really. What's your passion It can't be the money. What's the money for What will you buy with it Experiences you haven't had?

Yes, I would say that's it. Experiences I haven't had. I'm obviously a sensualist, for want of a better word, but if you must know the truth-and I don't see why there should be any lies between us-I'm a thief in every respect. I don't enjoy something unless I bargain for it, trick someone out of it, or steal it. It's my way of making something out of nothing, you might say, which makes me like God!

He stopped as if he were so impressed with what he had just said that he had to catch his breath. His eyes were dancing, and then he looked down at the half-empty coffee cup and gave a long secretive private smile.

You do follow my drift, don't you? he asked. I stole these clothes, he said. Everything in my house in Georgetown is stolen-every piece of furniture, every painting, every little object d'art. Even the house itself is stolen, or shall we say, it was signed over to me amid a morass of false impressions and false hopes. I believe they call it swindling All the same thing. He smiled proudly again, and with such seeming depth of feeling that I was amazed. All the money I possess is stolen. So is the car I drive in Georgetown. So are the airline tickets I used to chase you around the world.

I didn't respond. How strange he was, I thought, intrigued by him and yet still repelled by him, for all his graciousness and seeming honesty. It was an act, but what a nearly perfect act. And then the bewitching face, which seemed with every new revelation to be more mobile and expressive and pliant. I roused myself. There was more I had to know.

How did you accomplish that, following me about How did you know where I was?

Two ways, to be perfectly frank with you. The first is obvious. I can leave my body for short periods, and during those periods I can search for you over vast distances. But I don't like that sort of bodiless travel at all. And of course you are not easy to find. You cloak yourself for long periods; then you blaze away in careless visibility; and of course you move about with no discernible pattern. Often by the time I'd located you, and brought my body to the location, you were gone.

Then there's another way, almost as magical-computer systems. You use many aliases. I've been able to discover four of them. I'm often not quick enough to catch up with you through the computer. But I can study your tracks. And when you double back again, I know where to close in.

I said nothing, merely marveling again at how much he was enjoying all of this.

I like your taste in cities, he said. I like your taste in hotels-the Hassler in Rome, the Ritz in Paris, the Stanhope in New York. And of course the Park Central in Miami, lovely little hotel. Oh, don't get so suspicious. There's nothing to chasing people through computer systems. There's nothing to bribing clerks to show you a credit card receipt, or bullying bank employees to reveal things they've been told not to reveal. Tricks usually handle it perfectly well. You don't have to be a preternatural killer to do it. No, not at all.

You steal through the computer systems?

When I can, he said with a little twist to his mouth. I steal in any fashion. Nothing's beneath my dignity. But I'm not capable of stealing ten million dollars through any means. If I were, I wouldn't be here, now, would I I'm not that clever. I've been caught twice. I've been in prison. That's where I perfected the means of traveling out of body, since there wasn't any other way. He made a weary bitter sarcastic smile.

Why are you telling me all this?

Because your friend David Talbot is going to tell you. And because I think we should understand each other. I'm weary of taking risks. This is the big score, your body-and ten million dollars when I give it up.

What is it with you? I asked. This all sounds so petty, so mundane.

Ten million is mundane?

Yes. You've swapped an old body for a new one. You're young again! And the next step, if I consent, will be my body, my powers. But it's the money that matters to you. It's really just the money and nothing else.

It's both! he said sourly and defiantly. They're very similar. With conscious effort he regained his composure. You don't realize it because you acquired your wealth and your power simultaneously, he said. Immortality and a great casket full of gold and jewels. Wasn't that the story You walked out of Magnus's tower an immortal with a king's ransom. Or is the story a lie You're real enough, that's plain. But I don't know about all those things you wrote. But you ought to understand what I'm saying. You're a thief yourself.

I felt an immediate flush of anger. Suddenly he was more consummately distasteful than he'd been in that anxious jittering state when we first sat down.

I'm not a thief, I said quietly.

Yes, you are, he answered with amazing sympathy. You always steal from your victims. You know you do.

No, I never do unless… I have to.

Have it your way. I think you're a thief. He leant forward, eyes glittering again, as the soothing measured words continued: You steal the blood you drink, you can't argue with that.

What actually happened with you and the Talamasca? I asked.

I told you, he said. The Talamasca threw me out. I was accused of using my gifts to gain information for personal use. I was accused of deception. And of stealing, of course. They were very foolish and shortsighted, your friends in the Talamasca. They underestimated me completely. They should have valued me. They should have studied me. They should have begged me to teach them the things I know.

Instead they gave me the boot. Six months' severance. A pittance. And they refused my last request for first-class passage to America on the Queen Elizabeth 2. It would have been so simple for them to grant my wish. They owed me that much, after the things I'd revealed to them. They should have done it. He sighed, and glanced at me, and then at his coffee. Little things like that matter in this world. They matter very much.

I didn't reply. I looked down at the picture again, at the figure on the deck of the ship, but I'm not sure he took notice of it. He was staring off into the noisy glare of the cafe, eyes dancing over walls and ceiling and occasional tourists and taking note of none.

I tried to bargain with them, he said, voice soft and measured as before. If they wanted a few items returned or a few questions answered-you know. But they wouldn't hear of it, not them! And money means nothing to them, no more than it means to you. They were too mean-spirited to even consider it. They gave me a tourist-class plane ticket, and a check for six months' pay. Six months' pay! Oh, I am so very weary of all the little ups and downs!

What made you think you could outwit them?

I did outwit them, he said, eyes flashing with a little smile. They're not very careful with their inventories. They have no idea really how many of their little treasures I managed to appropriate. They'll never guess. Of course you were the real theft-the secret that you existed. Ah, discovering that little vault full of relics was such a stroke of good luck. Understand, I didn't take anything of your old possessions-rotted frock coats from your very closets in New Orleans, parchments with your fancy signature, why, there was even a locket with a painted miniature of that accursed little child-

Watch your tongue, I whispered.

He went quiet. I'm sorry. I meant no offense, truly.

What locket? I asked, Could he hear the sudden racing of my heart I tried to still it, to keep the warmth from rising again in my face.

How meek he looked as he answered. A gold locket on a chain, little oval miniature inside. Oh, I didn't steal it. I swear to you. I left it there. Ask your friend Talbot. It's still in the vault.

I waited, commanding my heart to be still, and banishing all images of that locket from my mind. Then: The point is, the Talamasca caught you and they put you out.

You don't have to continue insulting me, he said humbly.

It's entirely possible for us to make our little bargain without any unpleasantness. I'm very sorry that I mentioned this locket, I didn't-

I want to think over your proposition, I said.

That might be a mistake.

Why?

Give it a chance! Act quickly. Act now. And remember, please, if you harm me, you'll throw away this opportunity forever. I'm the only key to this experience; use me or you'll never know what it's like to be a human being again. He drew close to me, so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. You'll never know what it's like to walk in the sunlight, to enjoy a full meal of real food, to make love to a woman or a man.

I want you to leave here now. Get out of this city and never come back. I'll come to you at this address in Georgetown when I'm ready. And it won't be for a week this switch. Not the first time at any rate. It will be . . .

May I suggest two days?

I didn't answer.

What if we start with one day? he asked. If you like it, then we can arrange for a longer time?

One day, I said, my voice sounding very strange to me. One period of twenty-four hours … for the first time.

One day and two nights, he said quietly. Let me suggest this coming Wednesday, as soon after sunset as you like. We shall make the second switch early on Friday, before dawn.

I didn't reply.

You have this evening and tomorrow evening to make your preparations, he said coaxingly. After the switch you will have all of Wednesday night and the full day Thursday. Of course you'll have Thursday night as well up until… shall we say, two hours before Friday's sunrise That ought to be comfortable enough.

He studied me keenly, then became more anxious: Oh, and bring one of your passports with you. I don't care which one. But I want a passport, and a bit of credit plastic, and money in my pockets over and above the ten million. You understand?

I didn't say anything.

You know this will work.

Again, I didn't answer.

Believe me, all I've told you is true. Ask Talbot. I wasn't born this handsome individual you see before you. And this body is waiting right now this very minute for you.

I was quiet.

Come to me Wednesday, he said. You'll be very glad that you did. He paused, and then his manner became even softer. Look, I… feel that I know you, he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. I know what you want! It's dreadful to want something and not to have it. Ah, but then to kno