Blood Canticle - Anne Rice [18]
“What’s wrong with you?” Dr. Rowan Mayfair asked. Her voice was deep, husky and sensual. Her eyes were still picking me apart.
“You don’t see any ghost in here, do you?” I blurted out without thinking, the ghost just standing there all the while as it came clear to me that of course they didn’t, neither of them. This shining and self-contained menace had it in for me.
“No, I don’t see anything,” Rowan answered promptly. “There’s a ghost in this room that I ought to see?”
Women with these husky voices have a miraculous advantage.
“You do have your ghosts here,” Fr. Kevin said acceptingly. Yankee accent. Boston. “As Quinn’s friend, I thought you’d know.”
“Oh, I do, yes,” I said. “But I never get used to them. Ghosts scare me. So do angels.”
“And didn’t you hold an exorcism to get rid of Goblin?” asked the priest, throwing me off guard.
“Yes, and it worked,” I said, glad of the distraction. “Goblin’s gone from this house, and Quinn’s free of him for the first time in his life. I wonder what it will mean to him.”
Oncle Julien didn’t budge.
“Where is she?” asked Rowan, meaning Mona, who else?
“She wants to stay here,” I said. “You know, it’s simple.” I crossed in front of her and sat down in a chair with its back to the floor lamp, putting myself in a bit of shadow, and so I could see everyone, even my nemesis. “She doesn’t want to die at Mayfair Medical. She managed to drive the limousine all the way over here. You know Mona. And she’s with Quinn upstairs. I want you to trust us. Leave her with us. We’ll take care of her. We can call Aunt Queen’s old nurse to help us.”
Rowan was staring at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Do you realize how difficult it’s going to be?” she asked. She sighed and a great weariness showed itself in her, but only for an instant. “Do you realize how difficult it can get?”
“You’ve brought the oxygen and morphine, haven’t you?” I glanced over my shoulder in the direction of the ambulance out front. “Leave them. Cindy, the nurse, will know how to use them.”
Rowan raised her eyebrows. Same weariness again, but her strength was greater. She was trying to figure me out. Absolutely nothing about me frightened her or repelled her. I found her beautiful. There was a limitless intelligence behind her eyes.
“Quinn can’t possibly understand what he’s taking on,” she said gently. “I don’t want him to be hurt. I don’t want her to die in pain. Do you follow me?”
“Of course I do,” I said. “Trust me that we’ll call you when it’s time.”
She bowed her head, but only for a second.
“No, no, you don’t understand,” she said, the husky voice so expressive of concern. “There’s no reasonable explanation for her being still alive right now.”
“It’s her will,” I countered. I’m telling you the truth, there is no reason to be concerned for her. “She’s resting, free of pain,” I said.
“That’s impossible,” Rowan whispered.
Something flickered in her expression.
“Who are you?” she asked, that deep voice underscoring her seriousness.
I was the one being spellbound. I couldn’t break loose of her. I felt the chills again. The room was too dim. I wanted to tell Jasmine to turn up the chandelier.
“My name doesn’t matter,” I said, but it was hard for me to speak.
What was it about this woman? Why was her stripdown beauty so provocative and threatening? I wanted to see into her soul but she was far too clever to let it happen. Yet I sensed secrets in her, a trove of them, and I felt an electric connection to the monster child that Mona had revealed to me when I made her, and other things.
I knew suddenly this woman was hiding something dreadful to her own conscience, that the dominant note of her character was this concealment and this conscience, and a great striving rooted in her brilliance and her guilt. I wanted it, whatever she was hiding, just to know it for a moment, just to know it in warmth with her. I would have given anything—.
She looked away from me. I had unwittingly stared her down and lost her, and she was fumbling silently, and I almost saw it: a power over