Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis (The Vampire Chronicles 12)

Derek took a deep breath, but he said nothing, and did nothing to acknowledge their presence. He shrank into his corner.

He had pushed the bed into the corner. Mammalian impulse, the Parents would have said. But he did feel safer, foolishly safer, in his corner, and with his blanket half covering him.

But the silence of the two was unnerving to Derek.

He wiped at his nose and looked up at Rhoshamandes and what he saw startled him.

Other blood drinkers had come and gone above, but the only two blood drinkers Derek had known were Roland and Arion, and this new one was vastly different, harder, smoother all over, with a face that looked like living marble and eyes that bored into Derek as if they could burn. His olive skin was dark as Roland's skin was dark, but this was superficial, accomplished through a calculated exposure to the sun so that they might more easily pass for human. The being's skin smelled as Roland's skin always smelled, of the sunshine of the day and burnt tissue, and a faint added perfume.

The blood drinker's hair was golden brown, short and wavy, and his clothing was like that of Roland--formal evening dress, with startlingly white linen and shimmering black lapels to his coat, and a long fur-lined cloak that fell to the floor. A ring that was a sapphire, and another that was a diamond, and yet another that was old gold. They all think of themselves as princes, princes of the night and they dress like princes. And they drink the blood of humans as if the humans were animals, as if they themselves had never been human, and surely they had been once. Something had changed them into what they were. No one would make such things as they. That was unthinkable.

"You have no right to keep me here," said Derek. He licked his lips. Finding his handkerchief under his pillow, he wiped at his face. "Whatever I am, whatever you are, you have no right!"

Roland smiled at Rhoshamandes, that vicious cold smile that Derek had come to loathe. His gray eyes were hard and cunning.

"There have to be more like him," said Roland. "But he won't admit it. He won't name them. He won't tell me who he is or what he is or where he came from. And when I drink from him, I see the faces of others...a woman and three men. But names, I don't hear names, no matter how deep I probe, and I don't get answers. I don't get words. He had an address in Madrid when I brought him here. I had it watched for a year through my lawyers. It yielded nothing. Why don't you drink from him?"

"Drink from him!" whispered Rhoshamandes. He continued to stare at Derek as if there was something horrible about Derek.

Well, what could that be? Derek was formed exactly like a human male of eighteen to twenty years in age. He had been made to look appealing to humans. He would have combed his hair if he'd been given a comb. He would have cut it had he been given scissors. He had no idea really how he looked now, however, because he had no mirror.

Indeed, there was nothing in this prison cell but the bed, a table beside it, the shelf of books, and a small refrigerator with bland and uninteresting packaged foods that comforted him only a little when he had the stomach to eat them.

"Why don't you try it?" asked Roland. "And drink as much as you like. Drink as you would from any mortal. Drink all that you care to drink."

&nb

sp; "What are you saying?"

"That's how I discovered him," said Roland. "Drinking from him. I'd marked him for a victim and didn't realize what I had till he was in my arms. Arion also drinks from him. Arion has drunk from him plenty. I want you to drink from him, Rhosh. I think you'll be very surprised when you do."

"Why? How?" The new vampire looked fastidious and almost fussy. What a pair! And I'm not fit to be this monster's victim? Derek smiled. He almost laughed.

For one moment Derek's eyes connected with those of Rhoshamandes, or Rhosh. And the compassion in this Rhosh's blue eyes amazed Derek. But then Rhosh looked away, down at the bed, at the walls, at the mean furnishings--anywhere but not back to Derek, who continued to stare at him in silence.

"You can't kill him, Rhosh," said Roland, "no matter how much you drink. Drink as much as you like, I mean this, as much as you ever drank from any victim. You'll never feel the death pass into you because he won't die. He will lie still, without a pulse, without a breath. But then the blood will begin to regenerate and, within an hour or two, he'll be as he is now. Healthy, whole."

"But you don't understand," said Rhoshamandes. He glared at Roland.

"What don't I understand?" The other shrugged.

"I've walked this earth since the early days of ancient Egypt," said Rhoshamandes. "I was born in Crete before the flood. I've traveled the world. I've never seen anything like him! I've never seen anything that looked this human and wasn't human."

"Are you sure?" asked Roland. "Maybe you saw them and you didn't realize what they were. Think back. Think hard. I have seen one other very like him. And so have you. Try to remember."

"When?" asked Rhoshamandes. He seemed slightly annoyed. "Where?"

"The ballet, Rhoshamandes, the theater, the place we always meet, the place we always go together. You and I. Don't you remember? Saint Petersburg, the debut of Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet. Think back."

Derek's breath caught in his throat, but he sat very still, disguising his excitement. He made his mind a blank as if these words had no import for him, when in fact they meant everything. Go on, talk, explain. His soul ached. He looked away as if he'd become bored.

These creatures could read human minds, this he knew, but they couldn't read his mind, though they constantly pretended that they could. Something in the circuitry of his brain blocked them.

Only when they drank from him could they sometimes access his thoughts, catch from him images he sought unsuccessfully to bury.

"We were there together, you and I," said Roland. "Don't you recall it? It was a wonderful night. And we saw the being together, you and I, across from us in the dress circle. Think back! I can't remember the name of the man who was with the being, but we knew, both of us, that the creature wasn't human."

"Ah, that one," said Rhoshamandes. "Yes. I do remember. The one in the box with Prince Brovotkin. And afterwards, we tried to find them, the Prince and the other one. We couldn't. And you said that the Prince had seen us staring at them, that he'd sensed something."