"David, do you hear it?" he asked with mounting excitement. "David, listen!"
I heard nothing but the noises of the city.
"What is it, man?" I asked.
"David, listen to it. It's all around us. " He rose to his feet, his left hand still pressed to the pain he felt. "David, it's Claudia, it's the music, it's the harpsichord. I hear it all around us. David, she wants me to come. I know it. "
I was on my feet in a second. I took hold of him.
"You're not going to do it, friend, you can't do it without a farewell to Merrick, without a farewell to Lestat, and there are not enough hours left in this night for that. "
He was gazing off, mesmerized and comforted, and his eyes were glazed and his face was softened and unchallenging. "I know that sonata. I remember it. And yes, she loved it, she loved it because Mozart had written it when he was only a child. You can't hear, can you? But you did once, think back on it. It's so very lovely, and how fast she plays, my Claudia. "
He made a dazed laugh. The tears thickened; his eyes were veiled in blood.
"I hear the birds singing. Listen. I hear them in their cage. The others¡ªall our kind who know of her¡ªthey think of her as heartless, but she wasn't heartless. She was only aware of things which I didn't learn till so many decades had passed. She knew secrets that only suffering can teach. . . . "
His voice trailed off. He pulled back gracefully from my grasp and he walked to the center of the room. He turned about as though the music were truly surrounding him.
"Don't you see what a kindness she's done?" he whispered. "It's going on and on, David, it's getting all the more rapid. Claudia, I'm listening to you. " He broke off, and turned again, his eyes moving over everything yet seeing, nothing. "Claudia, I'll be with you very soon. "
"Louis," I said, "it's almost morning. Come with me now. "
He stood still with his head bowed. His hands had dropped to his sides. He seemed infinitely sad and infinitely defeated.
"Has it stopped?" I asked.
"Yes," he whispered. Slowly he looked up, lost for the moment, then getting his bearings. He looked at me. "Two nights won't matter, will it? And then I can thank Merrick. I can give her the picture. The Talamasca may want it. " He gestured to the nearby table, the low oval table which stood before the couch.
I saw the daguerreotype open on the table. Claudia's image jarred me as I met its gaze. I wanted to close the little case, but never mind. I knew that I could never allow the picture to fall into the hands of the Talamasca. I could never allow such a contact, let alone the possession of such a potent object by seers as powerful as Merrick. I could never allow such evidence to remain for the Talamasca to investigate whatever we had all seen this night.
But I didn't say this thing.
As for him, he stood as before, elegant in his faded black, a man dreaming, the blood dried in his eyes and giving him a dreadful look, as he stared off again, distant from my heated compassion, cutting himself off from any solace I could bring.
"You'll meet me tomorrow," I said.
He nodded. "The birds are gone now," he whispered. "I can't even hum the music inside my head. " He seemed unbearably distressed.
"All is stillness in the place she described," I said rather desperately. "Think on that, Louis. And meet me tomorrow night. "
"Yes, my friend, I've alre
ady promised," he said in a dazed manner.
He frowned as if trying to remember something in particular. "I have to thank Merrick, and you of course, you, old friend, who did everything that I asked. "
We went out of the town house together.
He went off to the place where he lies by day, the location of which I didn't know.
I had more time than he had. Like Lestat, my powerful maker, I was not hounded by the first hint of dawn to the grave. The sun would have to come over the horizon for me to feel the paralytic vampire sleep.
Indeed, I had an hour or more perhaps, though the morning birds were singing in the few trees of the Quarter, and when I reached uptown the sky had turned from a deep dark blue to a faint purple twilight color, which I lingered to enjoy before I went inside the dusty building and up the stairs.
Nothing stirred in the old convent. Even the rats were gone from it. Its thick brick walls were chilly, though it was spring. My footfalls echoed as always. I allowed that. It was respectful to Lestat to allow it, to mark my coming before I entered his vast and simple domain.
The great yawning courtyard was empty. The birds sang loudly in the lush trees of Napol¨¦on Avenue. I stopped to glance out from one of the upstairs windows. I wished I could sleep by day high in the branches of the nearby oak. What a mad thought, but perhaps somewhere, far away from all the pain we'd experienced here, there was some deep uninhabited forest where I could build a dark and thick cocoon for hiding among the branches, like an evil insect, dormant before it rises to bring death to its prey.