Blood Canticle - Anne Rice [13]
In a blatant rush, I felt myself emptying my life into her—dank country castle, Paris, the boulevard theater, stolen, stone tower, made by Magnus, fire, alone, orphan weeping, treasure; did she laugh? I saw her teeth in my heart, my very heart. I pulled back, dizzy, and clung to the post, each one is unique, staring down at her.
Witchlet!
With glazed eyes she looked up at me. The blood was on her lips, just a touch, and all her pain was gone, and the moment had come, the moment of peace from pain, peace from struggle, peace from fear.
She simply couldn’t believe it.
In the twilight between human and vampire, she breathed deeply and slowly, hungry hybrid, doomed hybrid, her skin plumping exquisitely and the sweetness unfolding in her face as the cheeks formed and her lips filled out, and the flesh around her eyes grew firm, and then the breasts were rising beneath her cotton gown, and a roundness came to her arms, such a delectable roundness, I am such a fiend, and she sighed again, sighed as if ecstatic, looking at me, yeah, right, I’m gorgeous, I know, and now she could endure the Dark Trick. Quinn was stunned. So in love. Get away. I pushed him back. This is mine.
I snatched her up from the flowers. Vessel of my blood. Petals falling. Whispered poetry was tumbling from her lips, “Or like a creature native and indued unto that element.” I hugged her to me. I wanted my blood from her. I wanted her.
“Little Witch,” I hissed into her ear. “You think you know all I can do!” I crushed her to me. I heard her sweet soft laugh. “Come on, show me!” she said. I’m not dying. Quinn was afraid. He put his arms around her and touched my arms. He was trying to hold us both. It was so warm. I loved him. So what? I had her.
I grazed her neck with my teeth. “I’m coming to get you, Little Girl!” I whispered. “You’re playing in the big time, Little Girl!” Her heart was racing. Still on the brink. I sank my teeth and felt her body stiffen. Lovely paralysis. Slowly I drew on the blood, her salt mixed with my own. I knew her: child beauty, nymphet, schoolgirl scamp, the one on whom nothing was lost, pronouncements of genius, nursing drunken parents, freckles and smile, her life a romp, and always dreaming, restless at the computer keys, designée to the Mayfair billions, burying father and mother, no more worry there, lover of more men than she could count, pregnancy—now I saw it!—horror birth, monster child, Look at it: woman baby! Morrigan. “Walking Baby,” said Dolly Jean. Who are these people! What is this you are showing to me! “You think you’re the only monsters I know?” Morrigan gone forever, monster child, What is this mutant that grows to be a full woman at its birth, wants your milk? Taltos! Gone, taken, ruined her health forever, made her start dying, have to find Morrigan, emerald around Mona’s neck, look at that emerald! Mona fastened to Quinn, so in love with Quinn, tell Quinn, no, poetry of Ophelia sustaining her soul, heart beat, catching breath, dying for too long, Don’t you realize what this is! I do, I do! Don’t stop! Don’t let me go! Who is that trying to take you from me? I knew that ghost! Oncle Julien!
He came at me. Angry phantom! In the midst of my vision! Was he in the room? This tall, white-haired man assaulting me, trying to wrench her from me! Who the Hell are you? I sent him flying back, receding so fast he became a tiny speck. Damn you, let her go!
We lay on the bower of flowers, she and I in each other’s arms, no time, look at him, he’s coming again, Oncle Julien! I was blind. I drew back, tore my wrist again, pushed my wrist to her mouth, clumsy, spilling blood, couldn’t see, felt her clamp hard, body lurch, Oncle Julien, you’re out! She drank and drank. Oncle Julien’s face furious. Faint. Vanish. “He’s gone,” I whispered.