Contact
Stepping into a room with a sleeping vampire is similar to the feeling of tying a noose around your own throat. I am, unfortunately, familiar with both.
Ruth had suggested that we restrain him, but Lestat was very much against that idea. Besides, as Louis had so kindly pointed out, there were very few materials in existence strong enough to hold him down if instinct compelled him to rise and protect himself during daylight hours.
Just before dawn, Louis reluctantly secured himself in one room and Lestat in another. Anxiously, I waited until well past sunrise before attempting to enter. It had been almost a decade since I last tried something like this and I couldn’t be sure that it would work again, especially on one so powerful. I must have spent the first hour with my back pressed against the closed door, barely breathing for fear that he might, at any moment, spring from the bed and tear me limb from limb. My thoughts drifted to Ryan McKay and his still beating heart twitching and pulsing in Lestat’s bloody hand. I had to stay focused. The only thing I needed to think about was keeping myself shielded from his diurnal self-defense mechanisms.
Ever so slowly I crept closer to the unmoving figure on the bed. If I didn’t know better, I could have mistaken him for a sleeping young man. He lay on his back with his head tilted to one side. A mess of golden hair spread over the pillow, framing his face like a halo. His lips were slightly parted and he looked almost peaceful, in spite of the demon wreaking havoc on his mind and soul. By the time I had finished carefully lowering myself into the chair beside him, it had become quite clear that this was no ordinary slumber. The sheet that covered him was motionless, lacking the rise and fall of a breathing chest. His limbs were as still as those of a corpse. There wasn’t even the slightest movement of his eyelids as one would expect from a human in REM sleep. He was, for all intents and purposes, dead.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what would come next. The very clearest of mental connections are accomplished through physical touch and I was about to poke a sleeping lion. I said a silent prayer to a God I don’t even believe in before reaching out my hand and placing it on the cool skin of his arm.
The contact was almost instantaneous. The demon, Balas, was wide awake inside this prone form and it was furious.
I could feel the rage immediately. I was overcome by it! It shot through my thoughts like a blade filled with so much wrath and hate that it was all I could do to keep one small part of my mind on preventing myself from becoming Lestat’s latest Talamascan victim. Like a child first learning to cope with my own gifts, I began some calming breathing exercises. Remining myself that everything that I was feeling and experiencing was external and could not alter my own thoughts unless I allowed it to.
Visions swam through my mind. I was seeing through the eyes of Balas. Experiencing what it experienced.
Darkness at first, then a sliver of light. The feeling of elation at some hard-earned accomplishment. The scent of burning wax, herbs and spices filled my nostrils as the light grew and the space around me came into some sort of focus. I felt cold stone behind my back. There was someone crying. Quiet sobs of resignation and acceptance. There were other voices as well. People speaking softly in a language I couldn’t understand. Were they praying? It took so much effort to force my body to move; to raise myself into a seated position. The scene around me was still unclear. It blurred as if viewed through foggy spectacles. A male voice shouted, while a woman shrieked in terror. Other voices joined the chorus, but still their words were lost to me. There was commotion all around me. A feeling of fear and panic filled the small room. The voices eventually grew more distant and a new sound emerged. It was the sound of heavy stone scraping against stone. The light dimmed and I was left alone. The candles eventually burned out and there was darkness once again. This new form was difficult to manipulate. Its joints were stiff and there was a coldness in its limbs. So, I slept.
Illumination came again. Stone grinding against stone. More candles and voices. Powerful, commanding voices chanting. Talamasca. This name floated into my consciousness. Scholars, mystics, sorcerers. I could see these things in their minds. I could also see myself; the corpse of a woman who had been dead for days rising from my sarcophagus and lumbering toward them. We were in a crypt. I knew that now. This had not been my first attempt at gaining a corporeal form, but it had been the most successful. This body had been vacant. There was no one here to fight with. No one to push me out. But this had been a mistake. A misjudgment on my part. I could never exist in this form. Not like this. I would take one of the mystics instead.
Chanting voices rose as I stumbled toward the nearest man. I had to get close enough to draw blood before I could travel again. My vision was still unclear and my movements clumsy. It was nothing for them to hold me back and continue their spell. My body was weak and ineffective against them and before long, the stone at the opening of the tomb had been sealed and I was alone again. Enshrouded in darkness and frustration. I tried to leave the body behind; to drift back into the ether from whence I had come and try again in another place and time, but I couldn’t move. These Talamascans had done something to me! I was trapped inside this slowly decaying form and could do nothing to remove myself from it!
Time passed. I could escape neither the crypt nor the body, so more time passed after that, but my anger never dissipated. The body I had so foolishly chosen began to rot away and eventually, even the tiniest movements became impossible. I had nothing but my thoughts, my rage, my desperate desire for revenge. Flesh and muscle deteriorated until there was nothing left but bone and that took the longest to break down. Finally, when dust returned to dust, I was free at last. Free to destroy the Talamasca.
This was the start of an age-old battle between Balas and the Order of the Talamasca. Centuries of death and destruction resulted in a merger between the Order and the Catholic Church to create the most powerful binding spell known to mankind. The demon had discovered immortals and in such a commanding physical form, it would soon be unstoppable. The chosen vessel was Magnus and with Balas locked inside, he hurled himself into the flames.
What followed entered into the era of recorded history. I needed no visions to show me that. The Talamascan archives list this demon as deceased, destroyed and no longer existing within this realm, but even we are capable of errors. It has taken more than two hundred years for Balas to regain its strength and find its way back into the physical world again, but now that it’s here, we are all in danger.
The visions ceased and there was nothing but blinding rage pounding inside my head. An unadulterated hatred for myself and all members of the Order was burning inside of me. I moved to pull my hand back from Lestat’s arm and a sudden jolt of pain far worse than any I had ever experienced before shot through my mind. I cried out in agony, grasping the sides of my head as I fell to the floor beside the bed. Any mental barriers I had raised to protect myself were instantly broken and as unconsciousness washed over me, my final thought was that Lestat would kill me now.
Ruth had suggested that we restrain him, but Lestat was very much against that idea. Besides, as Louis had so kindly pointed out, there were very few materials in existence strong enough to hold him down if instinct compelled him to rise and protect himself during daylight hours.
Just before dawn, Louis reluctantly secured himself in one room and Lestat in another. Anxiously, I waited until well past sunrise before attempting to enter. It had been almost a decade since I last tried something like this and I couldn’t be sure that it would work again, especially on one so powerful. I must have spent the first hour with my back pressed against the closed door, barely breathing for fear that he might, at any moment, spring from the bed and tear me limb from limb. My thoughts drifted to Ryan McKay and his still beating heart twitching and pulsing in Lestat’s bloody hand. I had to stay focused. The only thing I needed to think about was keeping myself shielded from his diurnal self-defense mechanisms.
Ever so slowly I crept closer to the unmoving figure on the bed. If I didn’t know better, I could have mistaken him for a sleeping young man. He lay on his back with his head tilted to one side. A mess of golden hair spread over the pillow, framing his face like a halo. His lips were slightly parted and he looked almost peaceful, in spite of the demon wreaking havoc on his mind and soul. By the time I had finished carefully lowering myself into the chair beside him, it had become quite clear that this was no ordinary slumber. The sheet that covered him was motionless, lacking the rise and fall of a breathing chest. His limbs were as still as those of a corpse. There wasn’t even the slightest movement of his eyelids as one would expect from a human in REM sleep. He was, for all intents and purposes, dead.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what would come next. The very clearest of mental connections are accomplished through physical touch and I was about to poke a sleeping lion. I said a silent prayer to a God I don’t even believe in before reaching out my hand and placing it on the cool skin of his arm.
The contact was almost instantaneous. The demon, Balas, was wide awake inside this prone form and it was furious.
I could feel the rage immediately. I was overcome by it! It shot through my thoughts like a blade filled with so much wrath and hate that it was all I could do to keep one small part of my mind on preventing myself from becoming Lestat’s latest Talamascan victim. Like a child first learning to cope with my own gifts, I began some calming breathing exercises. Remining myself that everything that I was feeling and experiencing was external and could not alter my own thoughts unless I allowed it to.
Visions swam through my mind. I was seeing through the eyes of Balas. Experiencing what it experienced.
Darkness at first, then a sliver of light. The feeling of elation at some hard-earned accomplishment. The scent of burning wax, herbs and spices filled my nostrils as the light grew and the space around me came into some sort of focus. I felt cold stone behind my back. There was someone crying. Quiet sobs of resignation and acceptance. There were other voices as well. People speaking softly in a language I couldn’t understand. Were they praying? It took so much effort to force my body to move; to raise myself into a seated position. The scene around me was still unclear. It blurred as if viewed through foggy spectacles. A male voice shouted, while a woman shrieked in terror. Other voices joined the chorus, but still their words were lost to me. There was commotion all around me. A feeling of fear and panic filled the small room. The voices eventually grew more distant and a new sound emerged. It was the sound of heavy stone scraping against stone. The light dimmed and I was left alone. The candles eventually burned out and there was darkness once again. This new form was difficult to manipulate. Its joints were stiff and there was a coldness in its limbs. So, I slept.
Illumination came again. Stone grinding against stone. More candles and voices. Powerful, commanding voices chanting. Talamasca. This name floated into my consciousness. Scholars, mystics, sorcerers. I could see these things in their minds. I could also see myself; the corpse of a woman who had been dead for days rising from my sarcophagus and lumbering toward them. We were in a crypt. I knew that now. This had not been my first attempt at gaining a corporeal form, but it had been the most successful. This body had been vacant. There was no one here to fight with. No one to push me out. But this had been a mistake. A misjudgment on my part. I could never exist in this form. Not like this. I would take one of the mystics instead.
Chanting voices rose as I stumbled toward the nearest man. I had to get close enough to draw blood before I could travel again. My vision was still unclear and my movements clumsy. It was nothing for them to hold me back and continue their spell. My body was weak and ineffective against them and before long, the stone at the opening of the tomb had been sealed and I was alone again. Enshrouded in darkness and frustration. I tried to leave the body behind; to drift back into the ether from whence I had come and try again in another place and time, but I couldn’t move. These Talamascans had done something to me! I was trapped inside this slowly decaying form and could do nothing to remove myself from it!
Time passed. I could escape neither the crypt nor the body, so more time passed after that, but my anger never dissipated. The body I had so foolishly chosen began to rot away and eventually, even the tiniest movements became impossible. I had nothing but my thoughts, my rage, my desperate desire for revenge. Flesh and muscle deteriorated until there was nothing left but bone and that took the longest to break down. Finally, when dust returned to dust, I was free at last. Free to destroy the Talamasca.
This was the start of an age-old battle between Balas and the Order of the Talamasca. Centuries of death and destruction resulted in a merger between the Order and the Catholic Church to create the most powerful binding spell known to mankind. The demon had discovered immortals and in such a commanding physical form, it would soon be unstoppable. The chosen vessel was Magnus and with Balas locked inside, he hurled himself into the flames.
What followed entered into the era of recorded history. I needed no visions to show me that. The Talamascan archives list this demon as deceased, destroyed and no longer existing within this realm, but even we are capable of errors. It has taken more than two hundred years for Balas to regain its strength and find its way back into the physical world again, but now that it’s here, we are all in danger.
The visions ceased and there was nothing but blinding rage pounding inside my head. An unadulterated hatred for myself and all members of the Order was burning inside of me. I moved to pull my hand back from Lestat’s arm and a sudden jolt of pain far worse than any I had ever experienced before shot through my mind. I cried out in agony, grasping the sides of my head as I fell to the floor beside the bed. Any mental barriers I had raised to protect myself were instantly broken and as unconsciousness washed over me, my final thought was that Lestat would kill me now.