Prince Lestat (The Vampire Chronicles 11)

"I believe you," I said.

"I will never hurt you."

"I will give you all that I know," I said, "if only you'll do the same with me! If only we can love one another! Always, completely! I will not suffer you to go into any other but me!"

"Yes," he said. "You have always been my beloved. Always. Dancer, singer, oracle, high priest, prince."

I reached out for the mirror, slapping my hands on the glass. The eyes were huge, and the mouth was long and serene with curving lips, expressive lips.

"In one body," said the Voice. "In one brain. In one soul." A sigh came from it. A long agonizing sigh. "Don't fear me. Don't fear my suffering, my cries, my frantic power. Help me. Help me, I beg you. You are my redeemer. Call me forth from the tomb."

I reached out with every fiber of my being, my hands pressing the glass, shuddering against it, my whole soul wanting to pass into the mirror, into the bloody-red image, into the face, into the Voice.

And then the image was gone.

I found myself on the carpet, sitting there, as if I'd been pushed or fallen backwards, staring up at the bright empty mirror reflecting again the contents of the room.

There was a knocking at the door.

Somewhere a clock was striking the hour. So many chimes. Was it possible?

I rose to my feet and went to the door.

It was midnight. The last chime had just echoed through the hallway.

Gregory and Seth and Sevraine were there. Fareed was with them and David and Jesse and Marius. Others were nearby.

What had drawn them here now, just now? I was dazed. What could I say to them?

"There is so much we want to talk about," said Gregory. "We're not hearing the Voice. None of us are. The world's quiet, or so it tells Benji upstairs. But surely this is only an intermezzo. We must plan."

I stood there quietly for a long moment, hands clasped just under my chin. I lifted my right hand, one finger raised.

"Am I your leader?" I asked. It was so hard for me to speak, to form the simplest words. "Will you accept my decision as to the disposition of the Voice?"

No one answered for a moment. I couldn't shake off the languor I felt. I couldn't rally. I wanted them all to leave me now.

Then Gregory said softly, "But what possible disposition for the Voice can there be? The Voice is in the body of Mekare. Mekare is quiet now. The Voice is quiet. But the Voice will begin to scheme again. The Voice will plot."

"This creature, Mekare," said Sevraine, "she is a living thing. She knows, in some brutal and simple way, she knows her tragedies. I tell you she knows."

Seems Fareed said something about reasoning with the Voice, but I scarcely heard him.

Seth asked me if I was hearing the Voice. "You are communing with it, aren't you? But you've sealed yourself off from us. You're battling the Voice alone."

"So this is the decision you want from me?" I asked. "That the Voice remain with Mekare?"

"What other decision can there be for now?" asked Sevraine. "And whoever else takes this Voice into himself risks being driven mad by it. And how can anyone seize Amel from Mekare without ending her life? We have no recourse but to reason with it as it lives inside of her."

I drew myself up. I had to appear alert, even if I was not, in control of m

y faculties, even if I was not. I was by no means irrational. It's simply that I had to return to a state of examining these things on my own which I could not share.

Gregory was trying to read my thoughts. They all were. But I knew too well how to lock them out. And in the dark little sanctum of my heart I saw that blood-red face, that suffering face. I beheld it in pure wonder.

"Put aside your fears," I said. My tongue was thick, and I didn't sound like myself to me. I looked directly at Gregory, then at Seth, then at each of the others in so far as I could see them. Even at Marius who reached out to grasp my arm.

"I want to be alone now." I removed Marius's hand from me. The Latin words came to me. "Nolite timere," I said. I gestured for patience as I started to close the door.