Blood Canticle (24 page)

“You really do love me,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“What can I do to prove that I love you?” she asked.

I thought for a long moment, sealed off from her and from Quinn. “You don’t have to do anything,” I said. “But there is one small favor I might ask.”

“Anything,” she answered.

“Never mention my love for Rowan again,” I said.

She locked on me, eyes so full of anguish that I could hardly bear it. “Only one more time, to say this,” she said. “Rowan walks with God. And Mayfair Medical is her sacred mountain.”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “You are so very right. And don’t ever think that I don’t know it.”

24

A
N HOUR BEFORE
the first light.

Mona and Quinn had already retired into Quinn’s bedroom.

It was confirmed that I would take the bedroom of Aunt Queen whenever I visited Blackwood Farm. As for Jasmine, she was so grateful to me for getting rid of the ghost of Patsy that she held me to be infallible and was overjoyed with the arrangement.

It was a sin, my taking that room! But I did it. And Jasmine had already closed Aunt Queen’s daytime curtains on the coming sun, and turned down the covers, and tucked under the pillow as always the copy of Dickens’
The Old Curiosity Shop,
as Quinn had said to do.

Enough on that.

I stood alone in the little Blackwood Farm cemetery. Did I like being alone? I hated it. But the cemetery drew me, as they always do.

I called to Maharet, as I had done earlier on this same evening. I didn’t even know if it was night where she was. I knew only that she was very far away, and that I needed her. Once again I poured out with all my strength the tale of the tall children and the young ones I couldn’t name, and how much I needed Maharet’s wisdom and guidance.

As the dawn came near to the moist Louisiana sky, I felt a vague forboding. Find the Taltos on my own? Yes, I could do that. But what would happen?

I was about to retire, so that I could enjoy the process of falling asleep instead of blanking out like a smashed light bulb, when I heard a car turn on the pecan-tree drive and head steadily and confidently for the front of the house.

As I mounted the rise of the lawn, I saw it was an antique roadster, a venerable English MG TD, one of those irresistible cars you don’t see anymore except at car shows. Real low-slung, British Racing Green, bumpy canvas top, and the person who pulled it to a halt was Stirling Oliver.

Being only slightly less telepathic than a fledgling vampire, he saw me immediately, and we moved to greet each other.

The morning light was still well behind the horizon.

“I thought you once promised me to keep away from here,” I said, “and to leave Quinn alone.”

“I’ve kept that promise,” he said. “I’m here to see you, and if I’d missed you, which I didn’t think I would, I would have given this to Jasmine.”

He took out of his linen coat a single folded page on which somebody had written my name.

“What is this?” I asked.

“An E-mail I received for you, care of me, an hour ago. Came in from London. I’ve been on the road since to bring it to you.”

“Then this means you read it?” I took him by the arm. “Let’s go into the house.”

We went up the front steps. The door was never locked. And apparently the lights in the parlor were never turned off.

I sat on the couch.

“Did you read it or not?” I said, staring at the page.

“I did,” he said. “That would have been very difficult to avoid. It was also read by our man in London who sent it to me. He doesn’t know where it originated, and he doesn’t really know what it means. I’ve bound him to confidentiality.”

“Why am I afraid to open this?” I asked. I unfolded the sheet.

To: Lestat de Lioncourt
New Orleans, Louisiana
c/o Stirling Oliver
Talamasca
Hand deliver without delay

My dearest indefatigable one:

If you absolutely must: Private isle, St. Ponticus, southeast of Haiti, once a resort, apparently taken over by those you seek six years ago. Harbor, airstrip, heliport, hotel, beach houses closed to public. Population of those you seek once numerous, cautious, secretive. Heavy human presence from beginning. Present state extremely unclear. Sense conflict, danger, rapid and confusing activity. Approach with caution from undeveloped east coast. Guard your children. Weigh wisdom of intervention if such is even possible. Ponder question of inevitability. Situation apparently localized. And
s’il vous plaît, Monsieur,
take the time to learn how to use E-mail! Both your young ones possess this knowledge! For shame! Be assured of my love, and the love of those here. M.

I was speechless. I read the letter over again.

“And this, all this confusing information, this is how I reach her by E-mail?” I said, pointing to the other data contained on the page.

“Yes,” said Stirling. “And you can reach her instantly. Show this to either Mona or Quinn. Dictate your message to either Mona or Quinn. They’ll send it.”

“But why would she betray her location like that?”

“She hasn’t betrayed anything. All you know is her screen name. And the message was probably relayed through several points. Believe me, she’s quite clever enough to be untraceable.”

“You don’t have to tell me how clever she is,” I said. “But I guess I asked you, didn’t I?”

I was still stunned. I was holding in my hand a response to my most serious telepathic communication.

He handed me a map. He had folded it to the appropriate section and circled the island. I instantly committed it to memory.

“Why do you think she sent this message through you?” I asked.

“For convenience, obviously. She gathered the intelligence. She wanted you to have a precise summary of it. And also, it shows a kind of trust in us. She’s acknowledging that the Talamasca is not your enemy or her enemy.”

“That’s certainly true,” I said. “But what can she mean with all this about intervention and inevitability?”

“Lestat, if you’ll forgive me, it’s plain. She’s asking you not to become involved in something where Darwinian forces may be at work. And she’s telling you a drama is being played out on an isolated island where the world might not take notice.”

“That isn’t what she said. She said she couldn’t tell what was going on. This message is extremely tantalizing. Well, to me, anyway. I don’t think it will be to Mona.”

“Both interpretations are correct,” he said with a sigh. “What are you going to do?”

“Go there, old boy, what do you think?” I said with relish. “I can’t wait. I mean, I have to wait. But I’ll head out with them at sunset.”

I folded the letter and put it inside my coat. I did the same with the map.

“Tomorrow I teach Mona about our most frightening gift. I’ve been putting it off—not wanting to overwhelm her. Quinn and I can take her to that island in less than half an hour.”

“You have to teach her more than the art of flight,” Stirling said. “The Taltos are much stronger perhaps than you imagine.”

“In what particular way?”

He thought for a long moment. “You’ve met humans with the telekinetic ability to kill,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re talking about Rowan. You don’t have to be so cagey with me, Stirling. I’ve sought your hospitality. At First Street we sat at a round table together. For me, that’s rather like the human custom of breaking bread. And now this E-mail from Maharet. So what are you driving at?”

“That Rowan’s power, formidable as it is, didn’t work for her with Lasher. That’s why he was able to abuse her and keep her prisoner. The Taltos are simply too strong, too resilient, too elastic.”

“That’s a good point, but surely you don’t think these creatures are a match for me,” I said. “You have no idea of the evil engine that lurks behind this fancy facade of mine. Worry not. But I’ll take the time to find out Mona’s full capabilities. There’s no calculating Mona’s strength. We’ve spent so much time on her state of mind, we haven’t developed those talents. Thank you for coming with this. Now I have to bid you
au revoir.
Why don’t you stick around? I can smell bacon cooking in the kitchen.”

“Take care,” he said. “I’m devoted to you, all of you. I’ll be anxious on your account until I hear from you.”

I headed back to Aunt Queen’s room.

Big Ramona, black cotton uniform, white apron, came barreling down the hall.

“Didn’t you offer that Englishman a cup of coffee? All you had to do was stick your head in this kitchen, Lestat. You’re underfoot enough around here to do that. Don’t you go, Mr. Oliver! Can’t you smell that coffee perking on the stove? You sit right down. You’re not driving off without some grits and biscuits and scrambled eggs. I got bacon and ham on the stove. And Lestat, don’t you go tracking that mud all around in Aunt Queen’s room. Do you go looking for mud when you go outside? You’re worse than Quinn. You take off those boots now, and Allen’ll polish them again. Got to hand it to you, four o’clock, Patsy’s ghost did not come! And I had a dream not half an hour ago, Patsy’s in Heaven.”

“Eh bien, Madame,”
I called out, reverting at once to stockinged feet and standing the boots neatly side by side outside the bedroom door. “Never have my boots received such loving attention. You know, this is really like living somewhere.”

“Yes, indeed,” she hollered over her shoulder, “should have seen that gal, all dressed in pink cowboy leather, singing, ‘Gloria in Excelsis Deo!’ ”

I froze.
You saw that!

I went into the bedroom, latched the door tight, surveyed the inviting bed, dove into it and pulled the covers up over my head. No more. No more! Down pillows, yes, Oblivion, will you please get on with it!

There came a nudge against my back, and I rolled over.

Julien on his elbow, white flannel nightshirt. Face-to-face.

“Dormez bien, mon frère.”

“You know what’s going to happen to you if you keep this up?” I asked.

“What,” he replied sardonically.

“You’re going to fall in love with me.”

25

Q
UINN
’
S BEDROOM
.
Conférence extraordinaire.

Mona was hysterical with joy over the message from Maharet. And by my leave at once E-mailed a letter of thanks on Quinn’s computer, which somehow devolved into two pages, with me taking over the keyboard at one juncture to outline my intention of going at once to the island with my children to ascertain what had become of the Taltos. Mona signed off with her “screen name” of Ophelia Immortal, but not before including Quinn’s name as well: Noble Abelard.

No sooner was that sent off by the magic of electronics than we were fast at work ascertaining that Mona had the power to light candles by the force of her mind, ignite also the kindling in the fireplace, and the logs, and that she could levitate to the ceiling with no effort whatsoever.

I wagered she could very likely make journeys of considerable length by air, but we had no time right now to test it. As for telekinetic power to push, she was very strong on this, able to push me back to the wall if I did not resist, and so could Quinn, but again we weren’t able to test this to the max with resistance. No guinea pigs. My vocal suspicion was they could bring death to a mortal easily with this power, breaking down the heart and its feeding vessels inside his or her body with no difficulty.

“You visualize it, you send it, you stand behind it with the full force of your will, you feel it leave you.”

Ultimately Mona and Quinn would only learn the full extent of their powers if the situation on the island involved real danger. If they couldn’t fend for themselves with full effect against hostile forces, they could certainly escape with supernatural speed and dexterity, and I could easily take care of them.

Now, as to clothes, my instincts prevailed.

I had a little theory of what we might find on the island. I nixed the idea of Aunt Queen’s safari clothes for Mona and Quinn’s hunting clothes for him. Forget the jungles and the far east side of the island.

“What’s the flashiest and fanciest suit you own?” I said to Quinn, all the while rooting through Aunt Queen’s closets.

“Well, I guess the gold lamé suit I had made for the Halloween feast. It’s a three-piece beauty, but—.”

“Put it on,” I said, “with the fanciest dress shirt you own and a sequined tie if you’ve got one.”

At last I drew from Aunt Queen’s neat lineup exactly the thing: a black satin pinched-waist, deep slashed neck, sleeveless, knee-length dress trimmed in black ostrich feathers down the front and along the hem. Only an absolute stunner could wear such a thing. I tore off the ancient price tag and presented it to my princess.

“Go girl,” I said. “And here are the black sequined shoes to match. (Four-inch heels, rhinestones galore.) Let’s hit the road.”

“This is how we go sneaking up to people hunting on a Caribbean island?” she said. She loved the duds. She was changing immediately.

I went to the dressing table.

Quinn had just returned in the shiny gold suit. Like all Quinn’s suits, exquisitely tailored. The boy just didn’t wear anything that wasn’t finely sewn. Fact was, he had found a pale lavender satin shirt and sequined tie, and he was luscious.

“How about the pearls, can I heap them on her?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he replied. He went to work, putting necklace after necklace over Mona’s head. All you saw was the richness of it, between the shuddering black feathers, her rounded little arms very peachy and her legs breathtaking under the flared short skirt.

She shook out her tangled hair.

“I don’t get this,” she said. “Aren’t we supposed to be stealthy and careful and proceeding through the jungles?”

“We will be,” I said. “But we’re not mortals, honey pie. We’re vampires. You can push the jungle out of your way with your mind, sweetheart. And if we run into hostile dudes, this is the perfect armor.”

(As for me, beloved reader, allow me to remind you I am in a three-piece butter-soft black leather suit, with purple turtleneck and the shiniest boots in Christendom.)

Off we went to find the island of St. Ponticus.

I carried Mona with me up into the air, comforting her as much as I could and urging her to use her own power as much as I could, and Quinn journeyed on his own, being very adept at this gift and having used it since his Blood Baptism.

Within ten minutes Mona had her legs wrapped around me as well as her arms, she was so scared, but it didn’t matter, she was hanging on, and she was learning, and I had her in my firm grip, and I resisted the urge to tease her by swinging her loose and holding her by one hand (chuckle, men are beasts), and we were headed for the gleaming rolling waters of the Spanish Main, now known as the Caribbean.

When I spotted the island in question, I made a swift descent until I spied the topography Maharet had described. Any closer and the gravity would have taken hold of me.

The decisive element was the airstrip with the words “St. Ponticus” painted in enormous letters on it. Probably faded to the human eye, but we could read them. There was a small Cessna plane on one runway, and then another very long vacant runway fit for a jet landing.

When I verified this I went back up to judge the island as a whole before drawing close to the buildings.

The island was oval-shaped. The resort covered the crescent-shaped south and southwest shore, with a huge margin of beach, and the rest of the island was jungle with rocky cliffs, apparently totally undeveloped.

I went low again. It was clear the island had plentiful electricity.

One immense villa dominated the landscape, fronting on the deepest southwest beach, with sprawling left and right wings and five stories of windows and spacious balconies. Its broad terraces led right down to the sand itself, and rooms on the lower floors of the palace had French doors and their own small courtyards, including gemlike swimming pools with low walls, and open gates to the beach.

On the west side was a giant swimming pool, sparkling with underwater light, and to the west of that deserted tennis courts.

Quite an affair, and off to the east what seemed to be a huge utility building with a restaurant attached to it. I could identify it by the open bar and the stools and the scattered tables, though not a soul was using it.

Then came the harbor, or marina, I’m sure they preferred to say, with a huge fancy white cabin cruiser at dock and many small boats tethered to the pier, and beyond it a heliport with what seemed to me to be a giant copter.

Last of all, and furthest from the villa, was the airstrip with the faded letters.

There were busy little beings visible on the island, carrying what appeared to be white crates between the cabin cruiser and the small plane.

I whispered to Mona: “Look down and use your vampiric gifts. What sort of people are these?”

“Those aren’t Taltos,” she whispered in my ear.

“You bet they’re not,” I said.

“They’re carrying automatic weapons,” she said in my ear, “they’ve got gun belts.”

“Right you are,” I said. “And knives in their boots, most likely. They’re fair game, you understand, they’re drug pirates and they’re dirty.”

Some of the men wore colored bandannas around their foreheads. All wore jeans. Racial characteristics varied. The blood scent rose in my nostrils. I was hungry for it.

“It’s a positive feast!” she said. “But how are we going to do this! And what have they done to the Taltos!”

I felt my heart tripping. I ought to have been ashamed. I was getting more heated by the second.

I took her up again, and went towards the jungle of the east coast as Maharet had cautioned me to do. The whole island wasn’t very big. One could have walked straight across it, even given the mountainous heights, in about two hours. But that is a great deal of jungle, really.

We arrived at the foot of an awesome cliff, where there was a little strip of beach, just enough for us to come together. Beautiful and boring.

I scanned the jungle around us. I picked up nothing clear. But the sheer thickness of the jungle, the sounds of all the little beasts, all this bothered me. It was a perfect hiding place, this jungle.

I scanned afar for the voices of the drug pirates. Activity of phones. Some music. I let my scan grow in power. It was all drug maneuvers. Cabin cruiser had brought in a load. The load would go out in the plane and the copter. Transfer was almost complete. A chaos of voices. Party going on in one of the rooms of the villa, maybe other rooms as well.

Mona was very shaken. “What if they’ve killed them all!” she cried. “What if they’ve taken over this island?”

“What if they’re working for the Taltos,” said Quinn. “What if this is how the Taltos support themselves?”

“I can’t believe that,” said Mona. “Besides, Ash Templeton had wealth. He didn’t need anyone to help him to acquire more of it. He wouldn’t have done this. He would have contacted Rowan and Michael had he needed help.” She was fast becoming hysterical.

“Get a grip, Mona,” I said. “The information’s five minutes away. As for Maharet’s advice, I’m overruling it. I’m going straight to the other end of the island. You can proceed through the jungle towards the back of the building if you like, but I want to enter by the front door. My blood’s too hot for waiting. Are you with me?”

“You’re not leaving us here,” said Mona. She clung to Quinn all the same. “Can we follow your lead?”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

Quinn was plainly reticent. “I say we do what Maharet told us to do.”

“Come on, Little Brother, get into the action,” I said. “We’re on the moral high ground.”

We came down right above the airport-control building. Empty. Went around it, walking in a leisurely manner until we reached the enormous runway where the drug drones were just finishing their work with the little plane.

You couldn’t have imagined more dangerous-looking creatures than this trio, in their cut off T-shirts and jeans with knives visible on their belts, guns stuck inside them, plus the big automatic weapons slung over their lean muscular shoulders.

When they happened to see us, they nodded and politely looked away. The clothes completely blinded them. Obvious presumption we were guests. Unwise to stare at us.

Then came strolling along the pilot, a cut above the little crowd, but just as mean, burnt brown from the sun, a human raisin, armed to the teeth but wearing a dirty bill cap instead of a bandanna.

They were all talking fast and a little hostile to each other in Spanish, a generally resentful and bristling bunch. Had the plane been overloaded? Was anything pilfered? What took them so long? I caught the greed and the impatience and the universal distrust. Nothing at all about any tall children who inhabited this place before.

The pilot glanced at us, checked us out from head to toe, nodded, then went back to his conversation with the trio.

“I get it,” said Mona under her breath, meaning the clothes. I nodded.

I walked across the distance between us, ignoring Mona’s desperate plea for me not to do it.

“So where’s the boss?” I said.

“Man, if you don’t know, how should I know?” countered the pilot. Snarl for a face. Empty black eyes. “I’m off schedule. Don’t hold me up.”

“Where you headed?” I asked.

“Get that info from Rodrigo,” he said. “You shouldn’t be down here anyway. Get back to the villa.”

Rodrigo.

I whipped him away from the others, sank my teeth, sought the blood fast and drew it out:
Where are the tall ones, the ones who lived here first?
Know nothing. Whoa, delicious rush of blood to my brain and eyes. Floating for one second. Heart exploded. Flung him down on the tarmac, dead, staring up at me, last breath of air through his dead mouth.

The trio of bandits stood trapped, then bolted. I hooked one and held him.

Mona and Quinn caught the remaining pair, quickly seeking for the blood. For a second Mona had a struggle on her hands, the bandit going for his knife of all things, but she hung on, pitching it away, and finally subdued him, using more nerve than innate strength.

Quinn was lithe and silent and perfect.

“Tell me about Rodrigo,” I said to the man I held helpless by the neck, my fingers getting tighter. I jerked him around and sank my teeth.
Who is on this island?
The boss, his mother, his women, this is his sanctuary, he’ll cut you to pieces—. The heart and the blood went dead. I had had enough.

The fresh blood swam up in my eyes, ignited my brain. I savored it, savored the tingling in my arms and legs. Battle juice.

“ ‘They are corrupt. They have done abominable works,’ ” I quoted with a sigh as we came together. Quinn was dazed by the feeding. Mona was reeling.

“They’ve been here for over a year!” she whispered. “That’s all I could get. But where in the name of God is Morrigan?”

We passed the heliport and its adjacent building. Two inside, breaking for coffee before takeoff. Same mold, heavily muscled arms, jeans low on their hips, looked up at me calmly from their steaming cups.

I sauntered to the table, Mona and Quinn inside the door. I sat down:

“You know what I’m talking about. The tall people who owned this place before Rodrigo took over. What’s happened to them?”

The shortest of the two shrugged and smiled: “You asking me? I never been here before last week. That’s the way Rodrigo works. Ask Rodrigo.” He turned around and gave Mona the once-over with his eyes, then looked back to me with a sinister smile.

The taller of the two shrugged.

“Say your prayers,” I said.

After that little fatal skirmish we headed for the big restaurant utility building, which stood seemingly vacant and all lighted up, the bar stools standing empty outside under the thatched roof and the tables scattered on its pink tiled terrace.

Stainless steel kitchen, glaring lights, groaning, rumbling, rattling machines. Scent of pine cleaners and soap. Countertops covered with trays of dirty dishes, stench of rotting food. Giant dishwasher churning.

“Come on,” I said, “no life here.”

We pushed on towards the immense palazzo.