The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

the figures of the twins.
    “All right, Father.” She left him with his book.
    I T WAS late afternoon the next day when his daughter came in to kiss him. The nurse said that he’d been crying like a child. He opened his eyes as his daughter squeezed his hand.
    “I know now what they did to them,” he said. “I’ve seen it! It was sacrilege what they did.”
    His daughter tried to quiet him. She told him that she had called the woman. The woman was on her way.
    “She wasn’t in Bangkok, Daddy. She’s moved to Burma, to Rangoon. But I reached her there, and she was so glad to hear from you. She said she’d leave within a few hours. She wants to know about the dreams.”
    He was so happy. She was coming. He closed his eyes and turned hishead into the pillow. “The dreams will start again, after dark,” he whispered. “The whole tragedy will start again.”
    “Daddy, rest,” she said. “Until she comes.”
    S OMETIME during the night he died. When his daughter came in, he was already cold. The nurse was waiting for her instructions. He had the dull, half-lidded stare of dead people. His pencil was lying on the coverlet, and there was a piece of paper—the flyleaf of his precious book—crumpled under his right hand.
    She didn’t cry. For a moment she didn’t do anything. She remembered the cave in Palestine, the lantern. “Do you see? The two women?”
    Gently, she closed his eyes, and kissed his forehead. He’d written something on the piece of paper. She lifted his cold, stiff fingers and removed the paper and read the few words he’d scrawled in his uneven spidery hand:
    “IN THE JUNGLES—WALKING.”
    What could it mean?
    And it was too late to reach the woman now. She would probably arrive sometime that evening. All that long way. . . . 
    Well, she would give her the paper, if it mattered, and tell her the things he’d said about the twins.

2
THE SHORT HAPPY LIFE OF BABY JENKS AND THE FANG GANG
    The Murder Burger
is served right here.
You need not wait
at the gate of Heaven
for unleavened death.
You can be a goner
on this very corner.
Mayonnaise, onions, dominance of flesh.
If you wish to eat it
you must feed it.
“Yall come back.”

“You bet.”
    STAN RICE
    from
“Texas Suite”
Some Lamb
(1975)
    B ABY Jenks pushed her Harley to seventy miles an hour, the wind freezing her naked white hands. She’d been fourteen last summer when they’d done it to her, made her one of the Dead, and “dead weight” she was eighty-five pounds max. She hadn’t combed out her hair since it happened—didn’t have to—and her two little blond braids were swept back by the wind, off the shoulders of her black leather jacket. Bent forward, scowling with her little pouting mouth turned down, she looked mean, and deceptively cute. Her big blue eyes were vacant.
    The rock music of
The Vampire Lestat
was blaring through her earphones, so she felt nothing but the vibration of the giant motorcycle underher, and the mad lonesomeness she had known all the way from Gun Barrel City five nights ago. And there was a dream that was bothering her, a dream she kept having every night right before she opened her eyes.
    She’d see these redheaded twins in the dream, these two pretty ladies, and then all these terrible things would go down. No, she didn’t like it one damn bit and she was so lonely she was going out of her head.
    The Fang Gang hadn’t met her south of Dallas as they had promised. She had waited two nights by the graveyard, then she had known that something was really, really wrong. They would never have headed out to California without her. They were going to see the Vampire Lestat on stage in San Francisco, but they’d had plenty of time. No, something was wrong. She knew it.
    Even when she had been alive, Baby Jenks could feel things like that. And now that she was Dead it was ten times what it had been then. She knew the Fang Gang was in deep trouble. Killer and Davis would never have dumped her.