Merrick Read Free Page B

she thought about Aaron’s death even now, as we sat at the café table, as I spoke softly to the handsome and well-defended woman whom that little girl had become.
    The feeble old waiter brought her the fifth of rum she had requested, the St. James from Martinique, dark. I caught the powerful scent of it as he filled her small, heavy octagonal glass. Memories flooded my mind. Not the beginning with her, but other times.
    She drank it just the way I knew she would, in the manner I remembered, as if it were nothing but water. The waiter shuffled back to his hiding place. She lifted the bottle before I could do it for her, and she filled the glass again.
    I watched her tongue move along the inside of her lip. I watched her large searching eyes look up again into my face.
    “Remember drinking rum with me?” she asked, almost smiling, but not quite. She was far too tense, too alert for that just yet. “You remember,” she said. “I’m talking about those brief nights in the jungle. Oh, you are so right when you say that the vampire is a human monster. You’re still so very human. I can see it in your expression. I can see it in your gestures. As for your body, it’s totally human. There isn’t a clue. . . .”
    “There are clues,” I said, contradicting her. “And as time passes you’ll see them. You’ll become uneasy, and then fearful and, finally, accustomed. Believe me, I know.”
    She raised her eyebrows, then accepted this. She took another sip and I imagined how delicious it was for her. I knew that she did not drink every day of her life, and when she did drink she enjoyed it very much.
    “So many memories, beautiful Merrick,” I whispered. It seemed paramount that I not give in to them, that I concentrate on those memories which most certainly enshrined her innocence and reminded me of a sacred trust.
    To the end of Aaron’s life, he had been devoted to her, though he seldom spoke of it to me. What had she learnt of the tragic hit-and-run accident that had caught Aaron unawares? I had been already gone out of the Talamasca, out of Aaron’s care, and out of life.
    And to think we had lived such long mortal lives as scholars, Aaron and I. We should have been past all mishap. Who would have dreamt that our research would ensnare us and turn our destiny so dramatically from the dedication of those long loyal years? But hadn’t the same thing happened to another loyal member of the Talamasca, my beloved student Jesse Reeves?
    Back then, when Merrick had been the sultry child and I the amazed Superior General, I had not thought my few remaining years held any great surprise.
    Why had I not learnt from the story of Jesse? Jesse Reeves had been my student even more surely than Merrick ever became, and the vampires had swallowed Jesse whole and complete.
    With great devotion Jesse had sent me one last letter, thick with euphemisms, and of no real value to anyone else, letting me know that she would never see me again. I had not taken Jesse’s fate as a caution. I had thought only that for the intense study of the vampire, Jesse Reeves had been too young.
    It was all past. Nothing remained of that heartbreak. Nothing remained of those mistakes. My mortal life had been shattered, my soul soaring and then fallen, my vampire life erasing all the small accomplishments and consolations of the man I’d once been. Jesse was among
us
and I knew her secrets, and that she’d always be quite faraway from me.
    What mattered now was the ghost that Jesse had only glimpsed during her investigations, and the ghost story that haunted Louis, and the bizarre request which I now made to my beloved Merrick that she call the ghost of Claudia with all her uncommon skill.

2
    I N THE STILL CAFÉ , I watched Merrick take another deep drink of the rum. I treasured the interval in which she let her eyes pass slowly over the dusty room.
    I let my mind return to that long ago night at Oak Haven, as the rain struck the windowpanes. The air