Blackwood Farm - Anne Rice [274]
“And then out of nowhere he came,” said Jasmine with a catch in her throat, “and he made Aunt Queen fall.” She started crying.
“Now don’t you start with that,” said Big Ramona.
“It’s my fault what happened,” I responded. “I’m the one who brought him up and made him strong. Whether he was a ghost or spirit doesn’t have a whole lot to do with it.”
“Then it’s not your fault either,” said Big Ramona. “And now we have to get rid of him.”
I felt a faint breeze in the air. The blades of the overhead fan started to whirl though the fan had been turned off. Jasmine and Big Ramona both felt it.
“Stick together,” I said, “and don’t look at him, or at any of his tricks. Now I have to go and talk to my friends. I have to talk to them about getting rid of him.”
A plate came off the pantry shelf and was smashed on the floor. Jasmine moved shakily to get the broom. Big Ramona made the Sign of the Cross. So did I.
Nash put his arm around Tommy. Tommy seemed thrilled. Little Jerome ate his peach cobbler as if nothing was happening.
I turned and left the room.
He was making his doleful music in the chandeliers.
Big Ramona rushed past me up the steps murmuring that she had to be with Patsy and Cindy. I could hear Patsy’s hysterical crying.
I stood outside her closed door listening to her for a long time, unable to make out the syllables, wondering what drug Cindy had injected into her hip that she was still so miserable, and I realized I felt chilled all over. Of course I had always known that she hated me, but she had never said it quite so clearly, quite so convincingly; and now I had my self-hatred to add to the mix, and for the moment it was almost too much for me.
I went into my room and shut the door.
Lestat and Merrick sat at the table, two elegant and high-toned creatures facing one another. I took the chair with my back to the door. The computer was immediately switched on. The windows were rattling. A convulsion moved through the heavy velvet draperies. The trimming of the baldachin over the bed undulated in the breeze.
Merrick rose from the table, looking about, her mahogany hair a thick mass down her back. Lestat watched her keenly.
“Show yourself, spirit,” she said in a low breath. “Come, show yourself to those who can see you.” Her green eyes probed the room. She turned around, gazing at the gasolier, at the ceiling. “I know you’re here, Goblin,” she said, “and I know your name, your true name, the name your mother gave you.”
At once, the windowpanes closest to us were shattered. The glass flew against the lace curtains but could not pierce them and fell, tangled and splintering and loudly clattering to the floor. The hot breeze of the night gusted into the room.
“Cowardly, foolish trick,” said Merrick under her breath, as if she were whispering in his ear. “I could do that myself. Don’t you want me to say your true name? Are you afraid to hear it?”
The keys of the computer fired like crazy. I saw nonsense marching across the screen. I drew near to it.
MAKEMERRICKANDLESTATLEAVENOWORIWILLCUTUPALLOFBLACKWOODMANORWITHGLASSIHATEYOUQUINN
Suddenly a huge amorphous cloud spread itself out beneath the ceiling, the billowing hideous shape of a human form made only of filaments of blood, with a huge and silently screaming face, the entire shape abruptly contracting and thrashing as it surrounded Merrick and whipped her with its tentacles as she fell over backwards onto the carpet.
She threw up her arms. She cried out to us. “Let it be!” And then to Goblin, “Yes, come into my arms, let me know you, come into me, be with me, yes, drink my blood, know me, yes, I know you, yes. . . .” Her eyes appeared to roll up in her head, and then she lay as one unconscious.
At last, when I was just at the point where I could endure it no longer, he rose, a wind full of blood rising, thrashing wildly once more before the ceiling and then gusting through the broken window, more tiny bits of glass flying into the lace curtains, which he left stained with bits of blood and gore, as he left her bare arms and hands and face