Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

tried to repress the mere thought of it. I tried only to think
I will do whatever you want of me,
and without meaning for it to happen, I closed my eyes as if someone were about to hit me in the face.
    â€œYou think I’m going to kill you, don’t you?” I heard him say.
    â€œI hope not,” I said shakily.
    â€œCome on, Little Brother,” he said, “it’s time to leave this pretty little place to those who know so much about it. And you, my young friend, have to feed.”
    And then I felt his arm tight around me. The air was rushing past me. I was clinging to him, though I don’t think I needed to, and we were out in the night, and we were moving towards the clouds.

4
    IT WAS LIKE TRAVELING with my Maker—the speed, the altitude and the strong arms holding me. I gave it all of my trust.
    And then came the sudden plunge.
    I was shaken as he let me go, and I had to stop myself from stumbling until the dizziness passed.
    We stood on a terrace. A partially open glass door separated us from a lighted room. It was tastefully furnished in rather routine modern furniture—beige velvet chairs and couches, with the inevitable large television, muted lamps and scattered tables of iron and glass.
    Two very pretty young brunette women were inside, one busy with a suitcase on the coffee table, and the other in front of a nearby mirror, brushing her long hair. They wore skimpy silk dresses, both pretty fashionable, revealing a great deal of their dark olive skin.
    Lestat put his arm around me again and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
    â€œWhat does your mind tell you?” he whispered.
    I let the Mind Gift loose, casting for the one at the mirror, and caught the whisper of murder at once. The other was even more accustomed to it, and it seemed that both of the women were party to a crime that was actually happening now somewhere at a distance from this place.
    It was an elegant hotel, this building. Through a door I saw the bedroom. I caught the scent from a gin drink on one of the tables, I caught the scent of fresh flowers, and of course I caught the overwhelming scent of Fair Game.
    The thirst rose in me. The thirst clouded my eyes. I tasted blood as though I were already drinking it, and I felt the abysmal and desperate emptiness that I always feel before I feast.
Nothing will ever fill you. Nothing will ever make this abominable hunger go away.
    â€œFair Game exactly,” said Lestat in a low voice. “But we don’t let them suffer, no matter how rough we want to get.”
    â€œNo, Sir,” I answered deferentially. “May I have the one in front of the mirror?”
    â€œWhy?” he asked.
    â€œBecause I can see her face in the mirror, and she’s cruel.”
    He nodded.
    He slipped the door open and we came into the cool refreshing air of the room. The thirst was too hot for it. The thirst was hopeless.
    At once, the women cried out in protest. Where had we come from? Who were we? Vulgar words, threats.
    With a remnant of my rational mind, I saw that the suitcase was filled with money, but what did it matter? How much more interesting was a huge vase of flowers near the far window, bursting with color. How much more interesting the blood.
    Lestat drifted past me and caught the woman who ran to the right with both his arms. The rush of furious words from her came to an abrupt stop.
    The other woman darted to the sofa, and I saw the gun there that she wanted so desperately to reach. I had her before she could lay her hand on it, and I crushed her against me, looking into her black eyes.
    She gave me a string of curses in Spanish, and the thirst in me rose even more violently, as if her curses had drawn it out. I brushed her thick black hair back from her neck and ran my thumb over the artery. She was maddened, full of hatred.
    Slowly, I bit into the fount of blood.
    My Maker’s lessons came back to me.
Love her sins, follow the path with her, make her