Blood Canticle (16 page)

“You do right by me, now,” Dolly Jean retorted. “Or I’ll shout you down. Truth is I can’t recollect what happened.”

“Hush up,” said Rowan softly, with another tender smile.

Dolly Jean nodded and took another drink.

Rowan sat back and went on:

“Dolly Jean had Henri take her and me downtown in the big car to visit Tante Oscar. It was the French Quarter, off the beaten path. Tante Oscar’s an elderly colored Mayfair who lives up three flights of stairs in a flat with a balcony from which you could see the River. Tante Oscar was over one hundred years old. Still is.”

Rowan’s words were gaining speed.

“Tante Oscar was wearing at least three sets of clothes, dresses over dresses, and at least four fancy worked scarves around her neck, and topped by a long maroon coat with golden fur along the collar, I think it was foxes, little foxes with heads and tails, I don’t know, and she had a ring on every bony finger, and a long oval face, and jet black hair, and huge egg-shaped yellow eyes. And there was wall-to-wall furniture in the flat, three buffets in a row, and three desks in a row, and dining room tables in three rooms, and couches and chairs all over, and carpets laid on carpets, and little tables with doilies and bisque figurines and photographs in frames, and sterling silver tea services everywhere you looked. Armoires were bulging with clothes and all askew.”

Dolly Jean began to cackle as she took another drink, and Mona laughed under her breath. Rowan continued as if she didn’t hear them.

“Gorgeous little twelve-year-old mulatto children were running everywhere, getting us coffee and cake, and getting the mail, and running downstairs for the newspapers. There was a TV on in every room and an overhead fan blowing. I’ve never seen such beautiful children as I’ve seen in New Orleans. The colors of these children were simply indescribable.

“Tante Oscar went to the refrigerator, which she called the ice box though it was brand-new, and opened it to show us that the telephone was in there because she never talked on it, and there was the telephone all right, right there in the middle of the milk and the yogurts and the jars of jam, but when Dolly Jean had called, Tante Oscar had heard the ring through the refrigerator door because it was Dolly Jean, and she had answered.

“Tante Oscar told us that Blood Children had been living in the Quarter for two hundred years, feeding off the blood of the riffraff, and Merrick Mayfair was now one of them. It was meant to be. Merrick Mayfair’s old Oncle Vervain had foreseen it, that his beloved little Merrick Mayfair would one day walk with the Blood Children, and he had told Tante Oscar and no one else. Oncle Vervain had been a great Voodoo doctor, and everyone respected him, but when he saw that in the future, it broke his heart. Tante Oscar said that now Merrick Mayfair would live forever.”

I winced. If only I had seen that Light. . . . But how many chances would God give me?

“Of course Oncle Julien had tried to prevent this catastrophe—I think Oncle Julien is paying for his sins by wasting his time on earth—.”

“I like that very much,” I uttered before I could stop myself.

Her words flowed right on.

“—Tante Oscar explained to us. Oncle Julien had come in a dream to Merrick Mayfair’s Great Nananne when she was dying and told Great Nananne to give Merrick Mayfair to the Talamasca. But Tante Oscar said it was the curse of Oncle Julien that his interference in the world of the living always failed.”

“Did she really say such a thing?” I asked.

Michael smiled and shook his head. He looked at Mona and Mona was looking at him.

Rowan continued her tale:

“When I described the black-haired one, the one I’d seen walking, Tante Oscar knew him. She called him Louis. She said the Sign of the Cross would drive him off, though it had no power over him. He merely respected it. She said the one to fear was the blond-haired one who had a strange name and who, ‘talked like a gangster and looked like an angel.’ I never forgot those words, I thought they were so strange.”

She fixed me in her gaze. I was lost to her.

“And then years later and only days ago, you came into the double parlor at Blackwood Farm and Jasmine called you ‘Lestat’ and you talked like a gangster and looked like an angel. I knew what you were deep, deep down in my mind where I didn’t want to know. I knew. I could remember the camphor-ball smell of Tante Oscar’s apartment and the way she said, ‘the black-haired one will never drink if it means a struggle, but the blond-haired one, he’ll do terrible things to you. He’s the one to fear.’ ”

“It’s not true,” I said softly. “Even the damned can learn. It isn’t like it says in our prayer books. Even vampires and angels can learn. God has to be an all-merciful God. Nobody is beyond redemption.”

“Redemption!” she whispered. “How can I ever be redeemed?”

“Darling, don’t say that,” said Michael.

“You can never love this girl enough,” said Dolly Jean. “Every morning she gets up, eats breakfast and goes to Hell, I swear it.”

Rowan smiled at me. In the pale light she looked girl-like, the lineaments of her face so refined and smooth, her gray eyes resting for the moment before they began their feverish searching again.

Oh to know the kiss of your lips, for your love is better than blood.

A pause. Her lawfully wedded husband distracted, unaware, and Rowan’s eyes fixed on mine.

Forgive me.

“But I’m skipping all around in time,” she said. “This is not an orderly story, is it?” She looked around herself, as if surprised to discover the garden and the dark, and the bottles glimmering in the light and the pretty shine of the glasses.

“Go on, Rowan, please,” I said.

“Yes. Let me go back,” she said, “to when Merrick Mayfair disappeared, yes.” She nodded. “But overall, you see, I had heard and I had seen, and I told Michael these things, and Michael just listened as he always does to terrible things, with that ominous yet charming Celtic gloom growing ever greater in him year by year, but when I talked to Stirling I could see in his face that he understood everything. He wanted to meet Tante Oscar. And he did. He would only say, however, that they missed Merrick Mayfair, and nothing more than that.

“Then Lauren Mayfair, you know, the great lawyer of the firm of Mayfair and Mayfair, who knows all things legal and therefore knows nothing, she took it into her arid little mind to find out about this strange disappearance of a Mayfair who might just need her white family. Crap.”

“Right on,” said Dolly Jean. She took another slug from the bottle. “Lauren was just up in arms to find out a Mayfair of any kind was in the Talamasca, that’s what she didn’t like.”

“She knew the house where Merrick Mayfair had been born,” Rowan said, “and she checked it out and found that Merrick Mayfair still owned it. She went downtown. And whatever she saw frightened her. She called me. She said, ‘It’s renovated like a palace down there in a dangerous neighborhood, and all the neighbors are terrified to go near it. I want you to come with me.’ And so I said I would. I was still laughing from that strange encounter with Tante Oscar. I thought, why not go downtown? I only have a hospital and research center to finish. Who am I to say that I’m too busy to do it?

“Dolly Jean said that we were fools to do such a thing—you just don’t go near a Blood Child, specially if you know what it is, but if we were determined to go then do it after nightfall. A Blood Child only walked in the dark, and Dolly Jean said furthermore that we were to go by the front gate, very strictly, and knock on the front door, and not to do an untoward thing that would give a Blood Child legitimate cause to hurt us. (Dolly Jean was nodding and cackling all through this speech.) Then we rang up Tante Oscar, who heard our ring through the refrigerator door, and said all the same things all over again. Lauren Mayfair was fit to be tied, as they say here. She said she had had a bellyful of congenital insanity in the Mayfair family before her twenty-first birthday. She said if one more person used the words ‘Blood Child’ to her she would sue. So I said, naturally, ‘Well, why don’t we call them vampires?’ ”

Mona burst out laughing and so Dolly Jean laughed so hard she had to pound the table with her left fist. She almost choked. Mona finally dissolved into giggles. Michael gestured to them to be quiet. Rowan was obviously waiting.

Rowan went on, her eyes fixing on me, then moving away.

“We went down there. It was the most godforsaken slum I’d ever seen. The very slabs of the sidewalks had floated away in the mud, buildings had collapsed into heaps of lumber, and the weeds were like fields of wheat. And there stood this classic raised cottage with its fresh white paint and planted garden. It had a high picket fence and gate, and a bell at the gate and we rang, and up on the porch, a tall woman opened the door and stood there in her bare feet with the light of the hall behind her. It was Merrick Mayfair.

“She knew who we were. It was astonishing. She complimented me on the Medical Center, and she thanked Lauren for coming to Great Nananne’s wake years and years ago. She was very pleasant to us, but she didn’t ask us in. She was quite fine, she said. She hadn’t really disappeared at all, just become a hermit. I remember using every grain of second sight that I might possess when I looked at her, and a deep spell overtook me. It was the timbre of her voice, and the way that she walked, which set her apart. The center of gravity was not in her hips as it should have been in a human female. And her voice, it had a rich musical dimension to it. As for the rest of her, she was a shadow up there.

“Of course, Lauren had satisfied her abysmal legal mind that all was well. The superficial idiot. And her next attack was upon the Talamasca, which she proposed ‘to run out of Louisiana,’ but when she came up against their endless list of London and New York law firms, and the fact that an entire contingent of the family went up in arms against her, myself and Michael included, she settled very quickly for a schism in the firm, and for telling me how ‘insane’ I was, and that she was going to ‘put Tante Oscar in a home.’ I grabbed her and shook her. I didn’t mean to do it. I’ve never done that to any person before. It was a terrible thing to do. But when she said that about Tante Oscar, I lost my temper. I just did it. I told her if she dared to attempt such a thing with any Mayfair, colored or white, anywhere, at any time, I would kill her. I went sort of out of my mind. How could she think she had the power to do such a thing? I backed away from her. I was afraid that—. I was afraid I would do something even more dreadful to her. And the whole matter was dropped. And she doesn’t come near me anymore.

“And I had so much to do with the Medical Center that I really didn’t want to talk the night away with Dolly Jean about Blood Children and what they did or didn’t do. Though I couldn’t resist going up to Tante Oscar’s apartment one more time with Dolly Jean, but when they started talking about the ‘Walking Babies’ born out in the swamps, and I knew they meant actual Taltos babies, and the way the terrified swamp Mayfairs hacked them to death, I thought I was going into trance mode, and I left.

“And now we come forward almost to the present, and suddenly Miss McQueen is dead, Quinn’s beloved aunt, whom everyone adored, and it’s her funeral we’re gathered for, and Mona’s much too sick to even be told, and the funeral’s in grand New Orleans style, and there in the pew in St. Mary’s Church before me I see you—Quinn, Lestat—and this tall woman, with the scarf around her head, and I see Stirling come up to her and he calls her Merrick, and I knew, I knew she was the same woman I’d seen before, and this time I was certain she wasn’t human. Only I couldn’t concentrate on it.

“At one point she turned and lifted her sunglasses and looked directly into my eyes, and I thought, What does it have to do with me? She smiled. And after that I felt sleepy and unable to concentrate on any thought in particular, except that Aunt Queen was dead and everyone was the lesser for it.

“I wouldn’t look at Quinn. I wouldn’t think about the change in Quinn’s voice on the phone—how over a year ago, his voice and his entire audial demeanor had changed. That might be a mistaken notion after all. What did it matter to know such things? And what if the blond-haired tan-skinned guy next to Quinn in the pew looked like an angel? How was I to guess that when I met him in the double parlor at Blackwood Manor only a day or two later he would have ‘captured’ Mona and he’d talk like a gangster?” She laughed softly, just a little sweet private laugh.

“I had Mayfair Medical as my life, my mission in the real world. And this was a funeral Mass, I closed my eyes and prayed, and then Quinn stood at the podium and said warm and lovely things about Aunt Queen, and he had young Tommy Blackwood with him. Now would somebody who is not alive do that?

“And I had to get back to the Medical Center and find Mona in her bed of needles and bandages and the tape tearing her skin, and somehow convince her that Quinn was hale and hearty and fine, and had grown four inches since he’d gone to Europe so long ago, her beloved. . . .”

She stopped again, as though all the words had run out. She was staring at nothing in front of her.

“These matters are of no use to us,” said Mona in a hard voice.

I was shocked.

Mona went on: “Why do you tell us all this? You’re not the prima donna of what’s happened here! All right, so, you tried to help me not die for years! If it hadn’t been you, it would have been some other doctor. And you dug up the corpses of the Taltos out here, so what—.”

“Stop, no!” Rowan whispered. “You’re talking of my sins, you’re talking of my daughter!”

“That’s the whole point! I can’t!” Mona cried. “That’s why you have to do it. But you ramble on—.”

“So you gave birth to one of them too,” I said gently to Rowan. I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine. Her hand was cold, but at once she clasped my fingers.

“Traitor!” Mona said to me.

“Poor darling girl,” said Dolly Jean, who was now drunk and falling asleep, “having those Walking Babies, and getting her womb torn out.”

Rowan gasped at those words. She drew back her hand and her shoulders slumped as though she was drawing into herself.