Blood Canticle - Anne Rice [112]
“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