Dance of Death by Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child Read Free Book Online Page A

me."
    "Dear me, Ambergris, have you forgotten?"
    For an uncomfortable moment, D'Agosta thought a look of skepticism passed over the old woman's face. But it soon vanished as her expression turned inward. "The Pendergast bloodline has been tainted for centuries. There but for the grace of God go you and I, Ambergris."
    A suitably pious pause followed this statement. "Young Diogenes was touched even from the beginning. A bad seed indeed. After his sudden illness, the darker side of our lineage reached full flower in him."
    D'Agosta remained silent, not daring to say more. After a moment, Great-Aunt Cornelia stirred and began again.
    "He was a misanthrope from the beginning. Both boys were loners, of course-they were Pendergasts-but with Diogenes it was different. Young Aloysius had one close friend his age, I recall-he became quite a famous painter. And, dear me, Aloysius would spend a lot of time in the bayou among the Cajuns and others of that sort, to which I naturally objected. But Diogenes had no friends at all. Not a one. You remember how none of the other children would go near him. They were all scared to death of him. The illness made it so much worse."
    "Illness?"
    "Very sudden-scarlet fever, they said. That's when his eye changed color, went milky. He's blind in that eye, you know." She shuddered.
    "Now, Aloysius, he was just the opposite. The poor boy was bullied. You know how we Pendergasts are frequent objects of scorn among the common folk. Aloysius was ten, I believe, when he began visiting that queer old Tibetan man down on Bourbon Street-he always had the most uncommon acquaintances. The man taught him all that Tibetan nonsense, you know, with the unpronounceable name, chang or choong something or other. He also taught Aloysius that peculiar way of fighting which guaranteed he was never bothered by bullies again."
    "But the bullies never picked on Diogenes."
    "Children have a sixth sense about that kind of thing. And to think Diogenes was younger and smaller than Aloysius."
    "How did the two brothers get along?" D'Agosta asked.
    "Ambergris, you're not getting forgetful in your old age, are you, dear? You know Diogenes hated his older brother. Diogenes never cared for anyone but his mother, of course, but he seemed to put Aloysius in a special category altogether. After the illness particularly."
    She paused, and for a moment her mad eyes seemed to dim, as if she was peering far into the past. "Surely, you remember Aloysius's pet mouse."
    "Oh, sure. Of course."
    "Incitatus he called it, after the emperor Caligula's favorite horse.
    He was reading Suetonius at the time, and he used to walk around with the tiny beast on his shoulder, chanting: 'All hail Caesar's beautiful mouse, Incitatus!' I have a perfect horror of mice, you know, but the little white thing was so friendly and calm I found myself able to bear it. Aloysius was so patient with the creature, he loved it so. Oh, the tricks he taught it! Incitatus could walk upright on his hind legs. He must have responded to a dozen different commands. He could fetch a Ping-Pong ball for you and balance it on his nose like a seal. I remember you laughing so, dear, I feared your sides would split."
    "I remember."
    Great-Aunt Cornelia paused. Even the impassive guards seemed to be listening.
    "And then one morning young Aloysius woke to find a wooden cross planted at the foot of his bed. A little cross, no more than six inches high, beautifully and lovingly made. Incitatus had been crucified upon it."
    D'Agosta heard Laura Hayward inhale sharply.
    "Nobody had to ask. Everyone knew who'd done it. It changed Aloysius. He never had another pet after Incitatus. As for Diogenes, that was just the beginning of his, ah, experiments on animals. Cats, dogs, even poultry and livestock began to disappear. I recall one particularly unpleasant incident with a neighbor's goat..."
    At this, Great-Aunt Cornelia stopped speaking and began to laugh, quite softly, under her breath. It