Blood Canticle

24



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 pla?t, 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 fr¨¨re."



"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."