The Complete Vampire Chronicles 12-Book Bundle (The Vampire Chronicles) (344 page)

“I was outraged. I considered it a disaster! I was in a fury. I flung out my arms, calling on God to reason with me, to forgive me, and save me with reassurance and wisdom, but nothing came from God. Nothing. Not light. Not words. Not punishment. Not judgment.

“I realized I stood in Heaven surrounded by angels. All of them were watching and waiting.

“Nothing came from Almighty God but the most tranquil light. I was weeping. ‘Look, tears such as their tears,’ I said to the others, though of course my tears were nonmaterial. And as I wept, and as they watched me, I realized I wasn’t weeping alone.

“Who was with me? I turned round and round looking at them: I saw all the choruses of angels, the Watchers, the
Cherubim, the Seraphim, the Ophanim, all. Their faces were rapt and mysterious, and yet I heard a weeping!

“ ‘Where is the weeping coming from!’ I cried.

“And then I knew. And they knew. We came together, wings folded, heads bowed, and we listened, and rising from the earth we heard the voices of those invisible spirits, those invisible individualities; it was they—the immaterial ones—who wept! And their crying reached to Heaven as the Light of God Shone on Eternal, without change upon us all.

“ ‘Come now and witness,’ said Raphael. ‘Come watch as we have been directed.’

“ ‘Yes, I have to see what this is!’ I said, and down I went into the earth’s air, and so did all of us, driving in a whirlwind these tiny wailing, weeping things that we could not even see!

“Then human cries distracted us! Human cries mingled with the cries of the invisible!

“Together, we drew in, condensed and still a multitude, invisibly surrounding a small camp of smooth and beautiful human beings.

“In their midst one young man lay dying, twisting in his last pain on the bed they’d made for him of grass and flowers. It was the bite of some deadly insect which had made his fever, all part of the cycle, as God would have told us had we asked.

“But the wailing of the invisible ones hovered over this dying victim. And the lamentations of the human beings rose more terrible than I could endure.

“Again I wept.

“ ‘Be still, listen,’ said Michael, the patient one.

“He directed us to look beyond the tiny camp, and the thrashing body of the feverish man, and to see in thin air the spirit voices gathering and crying!

“And with our eyes we saw these spirits for the first time! We saw them clustering and dispersing, wandering, rolling in and falling back, each retaining the vague shape in essence of a human being. Feeble, fuddled, lost, unsure of themselves,
they swam in the very atmosphere, opening their arms now to the man who lay on the bier about to die. And die that man did.”

Hush. Stillness.

Memnoch looked at me as if I must finish it.

“And a spirit rose from the dying man,” I said. “The spark of life flared and did not go out, but became an invisible spirit with all the rest. The spirit of the man rose in the shape of the man and joined those spirits who had come to take it away.”

“Yes!”

He gave a deep sigh and then threw out his arms. He sucked in his breath as if he meant to roar. He looked heavenward through the giant trees.

I stood paralyzed.

The forest sighed in its fullness around us. I could feel his trembling, I could feel the cry that hovered just inside him and might burst forth in some terrible clarion. But it only died away as he bowed his head.

The forest had changed again. The forest was our forest. These were oaks and the dark trees of our times; and the wildflowers, and the moss I knew, and the birds and tiny rodents who darted through the shadows.

I waited.

“The air was thick with these spirits,” he said, “for once having seen them, once having detected their faint outline and their ceaseless voices, we could never again not see them, and like a wreath they surrounded the earth! The spirits of the dead, Lestat! The spirits of the human dead.”

“Souls, Memnoch?”

“Souls.”

“Souls had evolved from matter?”

“Yes. In His image. Souls, essences, invisible individualities, souls!”

I waited again in silence. He gathered himself together.

“Come with me,” he said. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. As he reached for mine, I felt his wing, distinctly for the first time, brush the length of my body, and it sent a shiver through me akin to fear, but not fear at all.

“Souls had come out of these human beings,” he said. “They were whole and living, and hovered about the material bodies of the humans from whose tribe they had come.

“They could not see us; they could not see Heaven. Whom could they see but those who had buried them, those who had loved them in life, and were their progeny, and those who sprinkled the red ochre over their bodies before laying them carefully, to face the east, in graves lined with ornaments that had been their own!”

“And those humans who believed in them,” I said, “those who worshipped the ancestors, did they feel their presence? Did they sense it? Did they suspect the ancestors were still there in spirit form?”

“Yes,” he answered me.

I was too absorbed to say anything else.

It seemed my consciousness was flooded with the smell of the wood and all its dark colors, the endlessly rich variations of brown and gold and deep red that surrounded us. I peered up at the sky, at the shining light fractured and gray and sullen yet grand.

Yet all I could think and consider was the whirlwind, and the souls who had surrounded us in the whirlwind as though the air from the earth to Heaven were filled with human souls. Souls drifting forever and ever. Where does one go in such darkness? What does one seek? What can one know?

Was Memnoch laughing? It sounded small and mournful, private and full of pain. He was perhaps singing softly, as if the melody were a natural emanation of his thoughts. It came from his thinking as scent rises from flowers; song, the sound of angels.

“Memnoch,” I said. I knew he was suffering but I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Did God know it?” I asked. “Did God
know that men and women had evolved spiritual essences? Did he know, Memnoch, about their souls?”

He didn’t answer.

Again I heard the faint sound, his song. He, too, was looking up at the sky, and he was singing more clearly now, a sombre and humbling canticle, it seemed, alien to our own more measured and organized music, yet full of eloquence and pain.

He watched the clouds moving above us, as heavy and white as any clouds I’d ever beheld.

Did this beauty of the forest rival what I had seen in Heaven? Impossible to answer. But what I knew with perfect truth is that heaven had not made this beauty dim by comparison! And that was the wonder. This Savage Garden, this possible Eden, this ancient place was miraculous in its own right and in its own splendid limitations. I suddenly couldn’t bear to look on it, to see the small leaves flutter downwards, to fall into loving it, without the answer to my question. Nothing in the whole of my life seemed as essential.

“Did God know about the souls, Memnoch!” I said. “Did He know!”

He turned to me.

“How could He not have known, Lestat!” he answered. “How could He not have known! And who do you think flew to the very heights of Heaven to tell Him? And had He ever been surprised, or caught unawares, or increased or decreased, or enlightened, or darkened, by anything I had ever brought to His Eternal and Omniscient attention?”

He sighed again, and seemed on the verge of a tremendous outburst, one that would make all his others look small. But then he was calm again and musing.

We walked on. The forest shifted, mammoth trees giving way to slender, more gracefully branching species, and here and there were patches of high, waving grass.

The breeze had the smell of water in it. I saw it lift his blond hair, heavy as this hair was, and smooth it back from the side
of his face. I felt it cool my head and my hands, but not my heart.

We peered into an open place, a deep, wild valley. I could see distant mountains, and green slopes, a ragged and rambling wood breaking here and there for spaces of blowing wheat or some other form of wild grain. The woods crept up into the hills and into the mountains, sending its roots deep into the rock; and as we grew closer to the valley, through the branches I would see the glitter and twinkling light of a river or sea.

We emerged from the older forest. This was a marvelous and fertile land. Flowers of yellow and blue grew in profusion, caught this way and that in dancing gusts of color. The trees were olive trees and fruit trees, and had the low, twisted branches of trees from which food has been gathered for many generations. The sunlight poured down upon all.

We walked through tall grasses—the wild wheat perhaps—to the edge of the water, where it lapped very gently without a tide, I think, and it was clear and shimmering as it shrank back, exposing the extraordinary array of pebbles and stones.

I could see no end to this water either to the right or to the left, but I could see the far bank and the rocky hills growing down towards it as if they were as alive as the roots of the straggling green trees.

I turned around. The landscape behind us now was the same. The rocky hills, rising eventually to mountains, with miles upon miles of scalable slopes, copses of fruit trees, black, open mouths of caves.

Memnoch said nothing.

He was stricken and sad and staring down at the waters, and to the far horizon where the mountains came as if to close in the waters, only to be forced to let the waters flow out and beyond our sight.

“Where are we?” I asked gently.

He took his time to answer. Then he said, “The Revelations
of Evolution are, for the time being, finished. I’ve told you what I saw—the thin outline of all you’ll know once you die.

“Now what is left is the heart of my story, and I should like to tell it here. Here in this beautiful place, though the rivers themselves are long gone from the earth and so are the men and women who roamed at this time. And to answer your question, ‘Where are we?’ Let me say: Here is where He finally flung me down from Heaven. Here is where I Fell.”

“God said: ‘wait!’ so I found myself stopped at the gates of Heaven, along with all my companions, the angels who generally went and did what I did, and Michael and Gabriel and Uriel, though not among my companions, were there too.

“ ‘Memnoch, my accuser,’ said God, and the words were spoken with the characteristic gentleness and a great effulgence of light. ‘Before you come into Heaven, and you begin your diatribe, go back down to the Earth and study all you have seen thoroughly and with respect—by this I mean humankind—so that when you come to me, you have given yourself every chance to understand and to behold all I have done. I tell you now that Humankind is part of Nature, and subject to the Laws of Nature which you have seen unfold all along. No one should understand better than you, save I.

“ ‘But go, see again for yourself. Then, and only then, will I call together a convocation in Heaven, of all angels, of all ranks and all endowments, and I will listen to what you have to say. Take with you those who seek the same answers you seek and leave me those angels who have never cared, nor taken notice, nor thought of anything but to live in My Light.’ ”

Memnoch paused.

We walked slowly along the bank of the narrow sea until we came to a place where several boulders made a natural place to sit and to rest. I wasn’t feeling weariness in any real physical sense, but the change of posture seemed to sharpen all my fears, and concentration, and eagerness to hear what he said.
He sat beside me, turned to me slightly on his left, and his wings once again faded. But first they rose, and stretched out, the left far above my head and the whole wingspan startling me. But then they disappeared. There simply wasn’t room for them when Memnoch was seated, at least not for them to be folded behind him, so they were gone.

He continued: “Immediately following these words,” he said, “there was a great commotion in Heaven over who wanted to go down and examine the Creation with me and who did not. Now understand, angels were all over Creation as it was, as I’ve told you, and many had already been years on Earth, and fallen in love with creeks, and valleys, and even the deserts which had begun to appear. But this was a special message the Lord had given me—Go and Learn All You Can About Mankind—and there was some question as to who was as interested or as passionate about the mysteries of the human race as was I.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “If you forgive me. How many angels are there? You quoted God as
saying
‘all ranks,’ and ‘all endowments.’ ”

“Surely you’ve heard some of the truth,” he answered, “from the lore. God created us first—the archangels—Memnoch, Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, and many others whose names have never been discovered—either inadvertently or deliberately—so I would rather not say. The whole number of archangels? Fifty. And we were the First Made as I said, though who exactly came before whom has become a hysterical subject of argument in Heaven, and one in which I lost interest a long time ago. Besides, I’m convinced I am the first anyway. But it doesn’t matter.

“We are those who communicate in the most direct way with God, and also with Earth. That’s why we have been labeled Guardian Angels, as well as Archangels, and sometimes in the religious literature we are given a low rank. We don’t have a low rank. What we have is the greatest personality and the greatest flexibility, between God and man.”

“I see. And Raziel? And Metatron? And Remiel?”

He smiled. “I knew these names would be familiar to you,” he said. “They all have their place among the Archangels, but I cannot possibly explain all of this to you now. You’ll know when you’re dead. And also it’s almost too much for a human mind, even a vampiric mind, such as your own, to comprehend.”

“Very well,” I said. “But what you’re saying is the names refer to actual entities. Sariel is an entity.”

“Yes.”

“Zagzagel.”

“Yes, an entity. Now let me continue. Let me stick with the schemes. We, as I told you, are God’s Messengers, and Most Powerful Angels, and I was fast becoming God’s Accuser, as you can see!”