The Tale of the Body Thief

TEN

I WANT the details," I said, "of how you pushed him out of his body, and how you managed to force him into yours."

Wednesday at last. Not a half hour had passed since the sun had set. I had startled him when I appeared on the back steps.

We were sitting now in the immaculate white kitchen, a room curiously devoid of mystery for such an esoteric meeting. A single bulb in a handsome copper fixture flooded the table between us with a soft rosy illumination, which lent a deceiving coziness to the scene.

The snowfall continued, and beneath the house the furnace gave a low continuous roar.

I'd brought the dog in with me, much to the annoyance of the lord of the house, and after some reassurance, the beast lay quietly now like an Egyptian sphinx, looking up at us, front legs stretched straight before him on the waxed floor. Now and then James glanced at him uneasily, and with reason. The dog looked as if he had the devil inside him and the devil knew the whole tale.

James was far more relaxed now than he had been in New Orleans. He was entirely the English gentleman, which set off the tall, youthful body to powerful advantage. He wore a gray sweater, stretched fetchingly tight over his big chest, and a pair of dark pants.

There were silver rings on his fingers. And a cheap watch on his wrist. I hadn't remembered these items. He was studying me with a little twinkle in his eye, much easier to endure than those horrid glaring smiles. I couldn't take my eyes off him, off this body which might soon become mine.

I could smell the blood in the body, of course, and this ignited some low smoldering passion in me. The more I looked at him, the more I wondered what it would be like to drink his blood and be done with it here and now. Would he try to escape the body and leave me holding a mere breathing shell?

I looked at his eyes, and thought, sorcerer, and a rare and unfamiliar excitement completely obliterated the common hunger. I'm not sure I believed he could do it, however. I thought that the evening might end in a tasty feast and no more.

I clarified my question for him. "How did you find this body? How did you get the soul to go into yours?"

"I'd been searching for just such a specimen-a man psychologically shocked out of all will and capacity for reason, yet sound of limb and brain. Telepathy is quite an aid in such matters, for only a telepath could have reached the remnants of intelligence still buried within him. I had to convince him on the deepest unconscious level, so to speak, that I had come to be of help, that I knew he was a good person, that I was on his side. And once I'd reached that rudimentary core, it was fairly easy to plunder his memories and manipulate him into obedience." He gave a little shrug. "The poor chap. His responses were entirely superstitious. I suspect he thought I was his guardian angel at the end."

"And you lured him out of his body?"

"Yes, by a series of bizarre and rather ornate suggestions, that's exactly what I did. Again telepathy is a powerful ally. One has to be psychic, really, to manipulate others in such a way. The first time he rose perhaps a foot or two, then slam, back into the flesh he went. More of a reflex than a decision. But I was patient, oh, very patient. And when I finally lured him out for the space of several seconds, that was sufficient for me to pop inside of him, and at once focus my intense energy upon shoving him down into what was left of the old me."

"How nicely you put it."

"Well, we are body and soul, you know," he said with a placid smile. "But why go all through this now? You know how to rise out of your body. This isn't going to be difficult for you."

"I might surprise you. What happened to him after he was hi your body? Did he realize what had taken place?"

"Not at all. You must understand the man was deeply psychologically crippled. And, of course, he was an ignorant fool."

"And you didn't give him even a moment's time, did you? You killed him."

"Monsieur de Lioncourt, what I did was a mercy to him!

How dreadful to have left him in that body, confused as he was! He wasn't going to recover, you realize, no matter what body he was inhabiting. He'd murdered his entire family. Even the baby in the crib."

"Were you part of that?"

"What a low opinion you have of me! Not at all. I was watching the hospitals for such a specimen. I knew one would come along. But why these last questions? Didn't David Talbot tell you there are numerous documented cases of switching in the Talamasca files."

David had not told me this. But then I could scarcely blame him.

"Did they all involve murder?" I asked.

"No. Some involved bargains such as you and I have struck."

"I wonder. We are oddly paired, you and I."

"Yes, but well paired, you must admit. This is a very nice body I have for you," he said of himself, placing an open hand on his broad chest. "Not as beautiful as yours, of course. But very nice! And exactly what you ought to require. As for your body, what more can I say? I hope you didn't listen to David Talbot about me. He's made so many tragic mistakes."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a slave to that wretched organization," he said sincerely. "They completely control him. If only I could have spoken to him at the end, he would have seen the significance of what I had to offer, what I could teach. Did he tell you of his escapades in old Rio?

Yes, an exceptional person, a person I should like to have known. But I can tell you, he's no one to cross."

"What's to stop you from killing me as soon as we switch bodies? That's just what you did to this creature you lured into your old body, with one swift blow to the head."

"Ah, so you have talked to Talbot," he said, refusing to be rattled. "Or did you merely do the research on your own? Twenty million dollars will stop me from killing you. I need the body to go to the bank, remember? Absolutely marvelous of you to double the sum. But I would have kept the bargain for ten. Ah, you've liberated me, Monsieur de Lioncourt. As of this Friday, at the very hour when Christ was nailed to the cross, I shall never have to steal again."

He took a sip of his warm tea. Whatever his facade, he was becoming increasingly anxious. And something similar and more enervating was building in me. What if this does work?

"Oh, but it will work," he said in that grave heartfelt manner. "And there are other excellent reasons why I wouldn't attempt to harm you. Let's talk them through."

"By all means."

"Well, you could get out of the mortal body if I attacked it. I've already explained you must cooperate."

"What if you were too fast?"

"It's academic. I wouldn't try to harm you. Your friends would know if I did. As long as you, Lestat, are here, inside a healthy human body, your companions wouldn't think of destroying your preternatural body, even if I'm at the controls. They wouldn't do that to you, now, would they? But if I killed you-you know, smashed your face or whatever before you could disentangle yourself... and God knows, this is a possibility, I myself am keenly aware of it, I assure you!-your companions would find me sooner or later for an impostor, and do away with me very quickly, indeed. Why, they would probably feel your death when it happened. Don't you think?"

"I don't know. But they would discover everything eventually."

"Of course!"

"It's imperative that you stay away from them while you're in my body, that you don't go near New Orleans, that you keep clear of any and all blood drinkers, even the very weak. Your skill at cloaking yourself, you must use it, you realize . . ."

"Yes, certainly. I've considered the entire enterprise, please be assured. If I were to burn up your beautiful Louis de Pointe du Lac, the others would know immediately, wouldn't they? And I might be the next torch burning brightly in the dead of night myself."

I didn't answer. I felt anger moving through me as if it were a cold liquid, driving out all anticipation and courage. But I wanted this! I wanted it, and it was near at hand!

"Don't go troubling yourself about such nonsense," he pleaded. His manner was so like David Talbot's. Perhaps it was deliberate. Maybe David was the model. But I thought it more a matter of similar breeding, and some instinct for persuasiveness which even David did not possess. "I'm not really a murderer, you know," he said with sudden intensity. "It's acquisition that means everything. I want comfort, beauty around me, every conceivable luxury, the power to go and live where I please."

"You want any instructions?"

"As to what?"

"What to do when you're inside my body."

"You've already given me my instruction, dear boy. I have read your books." He flashed me a broad smile, dipping his head slightly and looking up at me as if he were trying to lure me into his bed. "I've read all the documents in the Talamasca archives as well."

"What sort of documents?"

"Oh, detailed descriptions of vampire anatomy-your obvious limits, that sort of thing.

You ought to read them for yourself. Perhaps you'd laugh. The earliest chapters were penned in the Dark Ages and are filled with fanciful nonsense that would have made even Aristotle weep. But the more recent files are quite scientific and precise."

I didn't like this line of discussion. I didn't like anything that was happening. I was tempted to finish it now. And then quite suddenly, I knew I was going to go through with this. I knew.

A curious calm descended on me. Yes, we were going to do this in a matter of minutes. And it was going to work. I felt the color drain from my face-an imperceptible cooling of the skin, which was still hurting from its terrible ordeal in the sun.

I doubt he noted this change, or any hardening of my expression, for he went right on talking as before.

"The observations written in the 1970s after the publication of Interview with the Vampire are most interesting. And then the very recent chapters, inspired by your fractured and fanciful history of the species-my word! No, I know all about your body. I know more about it perhaps than you do. Do you know what the Talamasca really wants? A sample of your tissue, a specimen of your vampiric cells! You'd be wise to see that they never acquire such a specimen. You've been too free with Talbot, really. Perhaps he pared your fingernails or cut off a lock of your hair while you slept beneath his roof."

Lock of hair. Wasn't there a lock of blond hair in that locket? It had to be vampire hair! Claudia's hair. I shuddered, drawing deeper into myself and shutting him away. Centuries ago there had been a dreadful night when Gabrielle, my mortal mother and newborn fledgling, had cut off her vampire hair. Through the long hours of the day, as she lay in the coffin, it had all grown back. I did not want to remember her screams when she discovered it-those magnificent tresses once again luxuriant and long over her shoulders.

I did not want to think of her and what she might say to me now about what I meant to do. It had been years since I had laid eyes upon her. It might be centuries before I saw her again.

I looked again at James, as he sat there radiant with expectation, straining to appear patient, face glowing hi the warm light.

"Forget the Talamasca," I said under my breath. "Why do you have such a hard time with this body? You're clumsy. You're only comfortable when you're sitting hi a chair and you can leave matters entirely to your voice and your face."

"Very perceptive," he said, with unshakable decorum.

"I don't think so. It's rather obvious."

"It's simply too big a body," he said calmly. "It's too muscular, too ... shall we say, athletic? But it's perfect for you."

He paused, looked at the teacup thoughtfully and then up at me again. The eyes seemed so wide, so innocent.

"Lestat, come now," he said. "Why are we wasting time with this conversation? I don't intend to dance with the Royal Ballet once I'm inside you. I simply mean to enjoy the whole experience, to experiment, to see the world through your eyes." He glanced at his watch. "Well, I'd offer you a little drink to screw up your courage, but that would be self- defeating in the long run, wouldn't it? Oh, and by the way, the passport. Were you able to obtain it? You remember I asked you to provide me with a passport. I do hope you remembered, and of course I have a passport for you. I fear you won't be going anywhere, on account of this blizzard-"

I laid my passport on the table before him. He reached up under his sweater, and withdrew his own from his shirt pocket and put it hi my hand.

I examined it. It was American and a fake. Even the issue date of two years ago was fake. Raglan James. Age twenty-six. Correct picture. Good picture. This Georgetown address.

He was studying the American passport-also a fake- which I had given him.

"Ah, your tanned skin! You had this prepared specially ... Must have been last night."

I didn't bother to answer.

"How very clever of you," he said, "and what a good picture." He studied it. "Clarence Oddbody. Wherever did you come up with a name like that?"

"A little private joke. What does it matter? You'll have it only tonight and tomorrow night." I shrugged.

"True. Very true."

"I'll expect you back here early Friday morning, between the hours of three and four."

"Excellent." He started to put the passport into his pocket and then caught himself with a sharp laugh. Then his eyes fixed on me and a look of pure delight passed over him. "Are you ready?"

"Not quite." I took a wallet of money out of my pocket, opened it, and slipped out about half of the bills inside and gave them to him.

"Ah, yes, the petty cash, how considerate of you to remember," he said. "I'm forgetting all the important details in my excitement. Inexcusable and you are such a gentleman."

He gathered up the bills and once again caught himself before he could stuff them in his pockets. He put them back on the table and smiled.

I laid my hand on the wallet. "The rest is for me, once we make the switch. I trust you're comfortable with the amount I've given you? The little thief in you won't be tempted to scoop up what's left?"

"I'll do my best to behave myself," he said good-naturedly. "Now, do you want me to change clothes? I stole these garments especially for you."

"They're fine."

"Should I empty my bladder, perhaps? Or would you like the privilege?"

"I would."

He nodded. "I'm hungry. I thought you'd like it that way. There's an excellent restaurant down the street. Paolo's. Good spaghetti carbonara. Even in the snow you can walk it."

"Marvelous. I'm not hungry. I thought that would be easier for you. You spoke of a car. Where is the car?"

"Oh, yes, the car. Outside, to the left of the front steps. Red Porsche roadster, thought you'd like that. Here are the keys. But be careful. . ."

"Of what?"

"Well, the snow obviously, you might not be able to move it at all."

"Thanks for the warning."

"Don't want you to be hurt. It could cost me twenty million if you're not here Friday as planned. Nevertheless the driver's license with the correct picture is in the desk in the living room. What's the matter?"

"Clothes for you," I said. "I forgot to provide them, other than what I have on."

"Oh, I thought of that a long time ago, when I was snooping about in your hotel room in New York. I have my wardrobe, you needn't worry, and I like that black velvet suit. You do dress beautifully. Always did, didn't you? But then you come from a time of such lavish costumes. This age must seem awfully dreary to you. Are those antique buttons? Ah, well, I'll have time to examine them."

"Where will you be going?"

"Where I want to go, of course. Are you losing your nerve?"

"No."

"Know how to drive the car?"

"Yes. If I didn't, I'd figure it out."

"Think so? Think you'll have your preternatural intelligence when you're in this body? I wonder. I'm not sure you will. The little synapses in the mortal brain might not fire off so fast."

"I don't know anything about synapses," I said.

"All right. Let's begin, then," he said.

"Yes, now, I think." My heart turned to a small, tight knot inside me, but his manner became completely authoritative and commanding at once.

"Listen closely," he said. "I want you to rise out of your body, but not till I'm finished speaking. You'll move up. You've done it before. When you are close to the ceiling and looking directly down on both of us at this table, you will make a concentrated effort to move into this body. You must not think of anything else. You must not let fear interrupt your concentration. You must not wonder as to how this is being done. You want to descend into this body, you want to connect completely and instantaneously with every fiber and cell. Picture it as you do it! Imagine yourself already inside."

"Yes, I follow you."

"As I've told you, there is something invisible in it, something left from the original occupant, and that something is hungry to be complete again-with your soul."

I nodded. He went on.

"You may be prey to a variety of unpleasant sensations. This body will feel very dense to you, and constricting as you slide in. Don't waver. Imagine your spirit invading the fingers of each hand, the toes of each foot. Look through the eyes. That is most important. Because the eyes are part of the brain. When you look through them, you are anchoring within the brain. Now you won't shake loose, you can be sure of it. Once you're in, it will take quite a bit of effort to get out."

"Will I see you in spirit form while we're changing?"

"No, you won't. You could, but that would take a great deal of concentration away from your immediate goal. You don't want to see anything but this body; you want to get in it and start moving it and breathing through it, and seeing through it, as I've said."

"Yes."

"Now, one thing which will frighten you is the sight of your own body, lifeless, or inhabited finally by me. Don't allow this to get the better of you. Here a certain trust and humility must play a part. Believe me when I say that I shall accomplish the possession without injury to your body, and then I shall leave immediately, so as to relieve you of that constant reminder of what we've done. You won't see me again until Friday morning, as we've agreed. I won't speak to you, because the sound of my voice coming out of your mouth would upset you, distract you. You understand?"

"How will your voice sound? How will my voice sound?"

Once more he looked at his watch, then back at me. "There'll be differences," he said. "The size of the voice box is different. This man, for example, gave a slight depth to my voice which I don't ordinarily possess. But you'll keep your rhythm, your accent, your patterns of speech, of course. Only the timbre will be different. Yes, that's the word."

I took a long careful look at him.

"Is it important that I believe this can be done?"

"No," he said with a broad smile. "This isn't a seance. You needn't stoke the fire for the medium with your faith. You'll see in an instant. Now what else is there to say?" He tensed, coming forward hi the chair.

The dog gave a sudden deep growl.

I quieted him with my outstretched hand.

"Go on!" said James sharply, voice dropping to a whisper. "Go out of your body now!"

I sat back, gesturing again for the dog to be still. Then I willed myself to rise, and felt a sudden total vibration through my entire frame. Then came the marvelous realization that I was indeed rising, a spirit form, weightless and free, my manly shape still visible to me with its arms and legs, stretching out just below the white ceiling, so that I did indeed look down and see the astounding spectacle of my own body seated still in the chair. Oh, what a glorious feeling, as if I could go anywhere in an instant! As if I had no need of the body, and my link to it had been a deception from the moment of birth.

The physical body of James slumped forward ever so slightly, and his fingers began to move outward on the white tabletop. I mustn't become distracted. The switch was the thing!

"Down, down into that body!" I said aloud, but there was no voice audible, and then without words I forced myself to plummet and merge with that new flesh, that physical form.

A loud rushing filled my ears, and then a sense of constriction, as if my entire self were being forced through a narrow, slippery tube. Excruciating! I wanted freedom. But I could feel myself filling the empty arms and legs, the flesh heavy and tingling as it closed over me, as a mask of similar sensations closed over my face.

I struggled to open my eyes before I even realized what I was doing, that I was flexing the lids of this mortal body, that indeed, I was blinking, staring through mortal eyes into the dimly lighted room, staring at my old body exactly opposite, at my old blue eyes peering back at me through the violet-colored glasses, staring at my old tanned skin.

I felt I would suffocate-I had to escape this!-but it hit me, I was in! I was hi the body!

The switch had been done. Irresistibly I took a deep hoarse heavy breath, moving this monstrous encasement of flesh as I did so, and then I slapped my hand to my chest, appalled at its thickness, and heard the heavy wet sloshing of the blood through my heart.

"Dear God, I'm in it," I cried out, struggling to clear away the darkness that surrounded me, the shadowy veil which stopped me from seeing more clearly the brilliant form opposite, which now sprang to life.

My old body jerked upward, arms thrown up as if in horror, one hand crashing into the overhead light and exploding the bulb, as the chair below clattered to the floor. The dog leapt to his feet and gave out a loud, menacing riff of deep-throated barks.

"No, Mojo, down, boy," I heard myself crying from this thick tight mortal throat, still straining to see in the darkness, and unable to do it, and realizing that it was my hand grabbing for the dog's collar and jerking him backwards before he could attack the old vampire body, which stared down at the dog in utter amazement, blue eyes glittering fiercely, and very wide and blank.

"Ah, yes, kill it!" came the voice of James, roaring at horrific volume out of my old preternatural mouth.

My hands shot to my ears to protect me from the sound. The dog rushed forward again, and once again, I grabbed him by the collar, ringers curling painfully around the chain links, appalled at his strength and how little there seemed to be in my mortal arms. Ye gods, I had to make this body work! This was only a dog, and I was a strong mortal man!

"Stop, Mojo!" I pleaded with him as he dragged me right out of the chak and painfully onto my knees. "And you, get out of here!" I bellowed. The pain in my knees was dreadful. The voice was puny and opaque. "Get out!" I yelled again.

The creature that had been me danced past me, arms flailing still, and crashed into the back door, shattering the window-panes, and letting in a cold gust of wind. The dog was maddened and now almost impossible for me to control.

"Get out!" I screamed again, and watched in consternation as the creature backed straight through the door now, shattering wood and all remaining glass, and rose off the porch boards into the snow-filled night.

I saw him for one last instant, suspended in midair above the back steps, a hideous apparition, the snow swirling about him, his limbs moving now in concert as though he were a swimmer in an invisible sea. His blue eyes were still wide and senseless, as if he couldn't work the preternatural flesh around them into an expression, and glittering like two incandescent gems. His mouth-my old mouth-was spread wide in a meaningless grin.

Then he was gone.

The breath went out of me. The room was freezing as the wind gusted into every corner, knocking about the copper pots on their fancy rack and pushing against the dining room door. And suddenly the dog became quiet.

I realized I was sitting on the floor beside him, and that my right arm was locked around his neck, and my left around his furry chest. Each breath I took hurt me, I was squinting against the snow, which flew right into my eyes, and I was trapped in this strange body padded with lead weights and mattress ticking, and the cold air was stinging my face and my hands.

"Good God, Mojo," I whispered in his soft pink ear. "Good God, it's happened. I'm a mortal man."