Blood Canticle

by Rice, Anne

  "Indeed," I said witheringly. (You gotta be kidding.)

  "He's explained that we have to be patient with their ways, and I see that now, and I understand why Rowan had to talk as she did. Or that it wasn't my place to interrupt her. I see it. I won't make those blundering remarks anymore. I have to find my . . . my maturity in the Blood." She paused and then: "A place where serenity and courtesy connect. Yes, that's what it is. And I'm far from it."

  "True," I said. I studied her, the picture she made. I wasn't quite convinced by this perfect Act of Contrition. And how lovely her little wrists looked in the tight black cuffs, and of course the shoes, with their wicked heels and winding snakelike straps. But I liked her words: "A place where serenity and courtesy connect." I liked them a lot, and I knew they'd come from her. All she had said had come from her, no matter what Quinn had taught her. I could tell by the way that Quinn responded to her.

  "And about the sequined dress," she said, startling me out of that line of thought. "I understand now."

  "You do?" I asked soberly.

  "Of course," she said with a shrug. "All males are obviously much more stimulated by what they see than females. And why should we people of the night be an exception?" Flash of big green eyes. Rosy mouth. "You didn't want to be distracted anymore by all that skin and cleavage, and you were very honest about it."

  "I should have made my wishes known with more tact and respect," I said in a dull monotone. "I will be gentlemanly in the future."

  "No, no," she said with an honest shake of her red hair. "We all knew the dress was highfalutin trash, it was supposed to be. That's why I wore it to the hotel terrace. It was deliberately seductive. That's why when I walked into this house, I went right to change into something more presentable. Besides, you are the Maker. That's the word that Quinn used. The Maker, or the Master. The Teacher. And you have the authority to say to me, 'Take off that dress,' and I knew what you were talking about.

  "But you see-I've been sick for a very crucial part of my life. I never knew as a mortal girl what it was

  like to wear a dress like that. I was never a mortal woman, you see."

  A great sadness descended on me.

  "I just went from being a kid to being an invalid," she said. "And then this, this range of powers which

  you've entrusted to me. And what have I done but strike out at you because I thought you . . . thought you loved Rowan." She stopped, puzzled, looking off. "I suppose I wanted to reveal to you . . . that I was a woman, too, in that dress. . . ." she said dreamily. "Maybe that was it. That I was a woman as much as she was."

  It struck me in the soul, her words. The soul I wasn't supposed to have, the entangled soul.

  "Ironic, isn't it?" she said, her voice roughened by emotion, "what womanhood means. The power to

  mother, the power to seduce, the power to leave behind both, the power to. . . ." She shut her eyes. She whispered: "And that dress, such an outrageous badge of it!"

  "Don't battle with it anymore," I said. It was the first warmth I'd shown to her. "You said it the first time

  around, really. You said it."

  She knew it. She looked up at me.

  "Power Slut," she whispered. "That's what you called me, and right you were, I was drunk on the power, I

  was spinning, I was-."

  "Oh, no, don't-."

  "And we can transcend, we are so blessed, even if it is a dark blessing, we are miracles, we are free in so

  many marvelous respects-."

  "It's my task," I said, "to guide you, instruct you, remain with you until you're able to exist well on your

  own, and not to lose my temper as I did. I was in the wrong. I played out the power hand same as you did,

  baby. I should have had much more patience."

  Quiet. And this sorrow too will lift. It must.

  "You do love Rowan, though, don't you?" she asked. "You really really love her."

  "Accept what I'm saying to you," I said. "I am a very mean guy. And I am being nice."

  "Oh, you're not mean at all," she said with a little laugh. She cleared her saddened face with the brightest

  smile. "I absolutely adore you."

  "No, I am mean," I said. "And I expect to be adored. Remember your own words. I'm the teacher."

  "But why do you love Rowan?"

  "Mona, let's not delve into that too much," said Quinn. "I think we've accomplished a great reconciliation

  here, and Lestat won't leave us now."

  "I was never going to leave," I said under my breath. "I would never abandon either of you. But now that

  we're gathered together, I think we can move on. There are other matters on my mind."

  Quiet.

  "Yes, we should move on," said Mona.

  "What other matters?" Quinn asked a little fearfully.

  "Last night we talked about a certain quest," I said. "I made a promise. And I mean to keep it. But I want

  to clarify certain things . . . about the quest and what we hope to gain from it."

  "Yes," said Quinn. "I'm not sure I fully understand everything about the Taltos."

  "There's too much for us to understand," I said. "I'm sure Mona would agree with that."

  I saw the trouble come back into her bright face, the pucker of her eyebrows, the soft lengthening of her

  mouth. But even in this I saw a new maturity, a new self-confidence.

  "I have some questions. . . ." I said. "Yes," said Mona. "I'll try to answer them."

  I reflected, then plunged: "Are you absolutely certain that you do want to find these creatures?"

  "Oh, I have to find Morrigan, you know that! Lestat, how could you, you said you-?"

  "Let me phrase it differently," I said, raising my hand. "Never mind whatever you've said in the past.

  Now that you've had time to think-to become more accustomed to what you are, now that you know that Rowan and Michael weren't lying to you, that you do know everything, and that there's nothing to know-do you want to search out Morrigan simply to know that she's safe and sound, or to reveal yourself to her in a true reunion?"

  "Yes, that is the essential question," said Quinn. "Which is it?"

  "Well, for a true reunion obviously," she answered without hesitation. "I never thought of any other possibility." She was bewildered. "I . . . I never considered just finding out if she was all right. I . . . always thought we'd be together. I want so much to put my arms around her, to hold her, to-." Her face went blank with hurt. She fell silent.

  "You do see," I asked as tactfully as I could, "if she wanted that, she would have come back to you a long time ago."

  Surely such thoughts had occurred to her before. They must have. But as I watched her now I wondered. Maybe she had dwelt on fantasies and lies-that Rowan knew the whereabouts of Morrigan and kept it secret. That Rowan had smuggled her the magic milk and it did no good.

  Whatever the case, she was shaken now. Badly shaken.

  "Maybe she couldn't come to me," she whispered. "Maybe Ash Templeton wouldn't let her." She shook her head and put her hands to her forehead. "I don't know what kind of creature he is! Of course Michael and Rowan thought Ash was a . . . hero, a great all-knowing, wise observer of the centuries. But what if-. I don't know. I want to see her. I want to talk to her. I want to hear it from her, what she wants, don't you see? Why she didn't come to me all those years, why she didn't even . . . Lasher, he was cruel, but he was an aberrant soul, a. . . ." She covered her mouth with her right hand, her fingers trembling.

  Quinn was beside himself. He couldn't bear to see her so unhappy.

  "Mona, you can't give her the Blood," I said softly, "no matter what her circumstances. The Blood cannot be passed to this species of creature. It is too unknown for us even to consider such a thing. The Blood very likely can't be passed on to them. But even if it could, we can't make a new species of Immortal. Believe me when I say there are ancient ones of our kind who would never tolerate such a thing happening
."

  "Oh, I know that, I haven't asked for that, I wouldn't-." She went quiet, obviously unable to speak.

  "You want to know she's alive and well," said Quinn in the gentlest manner. "That's paramount, wouldn't you say?"

  Mona nodded, looking away. "Yes-that there's a community of them somewhere, and they're happy." She frowned. She battled her pain. She drew in her breath, cheeks reddening. "It isn't likely, is it?" She looked at me.

  "No, it's not," I said. "That's what Rowan and Michael were trying to tell us."

  "Then I have to know what happened to them!" she whispered bitterly. "I have to!"

  "I'll find out," I said.

  "You really mean that?"

  "Yes," I said. "I wouldn't make a promise to you like that unless I meant it. I'll find out, and if they have survived, if they do have a community somewhere, then you can decide whether or not you want to meet with them. But once a meeting occurs, they'll know about you, what you are, everything. That is, if they have the powers that Rowan ascribed to them."

  "Oh, they have those powers," Mona said. "They do." She closed her eyes. She took a deep painful breath. "It's an awful thing to admit," she said, "but the things Dolly Jean said were all true. I can't deny them. I can't withhold the truth from you and Quinn. I can't. Morrigan was . . . almost unbearable."

  "How so, unbearable?" asked Quinn.

  I could see this was a radical admission. She had said things quite to the contrary.

  Mona threw back her hair, her eyes searching the ceiling. She was facing something she had always denied.

  "Obsessive, incessant, maddening!" she said. "She went on and on about her schemes and plans and dreams and memories, and she did say that Mayfairs would become a family of Taltos, and once she caught the scent of the Taltos male on Rowan and Michael, she was absolutely unendurable." Mona closed her eyes. "The thought of a community of such creatures is-almost beyond my imagination. This old one, Ash Templeton, the one that Rowan and Michael knew-he had learned to pretend to be a human being, he had learned that centuries ago. That's the thing. These creatures can live indefinitely! They are immortals! The species is utterly incompatible with humans. Morrigan was new and raw." She looked imploringly at me.

  "Take it slowly," I said. I had never seen her suffering so. In all her bouts of tears there had been a generosity and selflessness that made them seem quite challengeable. As for her rage, she'd positively enjoyed it. But now she was truly in torment.

  "It's like me, don't you see?" she said. "She was a newborn Taltos. And I'm a newborn Blood Child, or whatever you want to call me. And we share the same faults. She was unruly and crashing into everything around her! And that's the way I've behaved, raving to you as I did about your written confessions, I . . . she . . . presuming, assuming, even rushing to the computer just the way she did, recording my responses the way she did, and going on and on the way she did, but she, she never stopped, she . . . I . . . she . . . I don't know. . . ." Her tears came and she couldn't talk anymore. "Oh, dear God in Heaven, what is the squalid secret behind all this?" she whispered. "What is it? What is it?"

  Quinn's face was torn.

  "I know the secret," I said. "Mona, you hated her as much as you loved her. How could you not? Accept

  it. And now you have to know what happened to her."

  She nodded, vigorously, but she couldn't speak. She couldn't look at me.

  "And we have to go about this with great care," I said, "this search for the Taltos, but I vow to you again

  that we will do it. And I will find them or find out what became of them."

  Quiet.

  She finally looked at me.

  A sorrowful motionlessness settled over her. She wasn't trying to stare me down. I don't think she even

  realized I was looking back at her. She looked at me for the longest time and her face grew soft and

  giving and tender.

  "I'll never be mean to you again," she said.

  "I believe you," I said. "I took you to my heart the first moment I saw you."

  Quinn sat staring with patient eyes, the round mirror behind him like a great halo.

  "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."

  AN 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. Ands'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