Crónicas Vampíricas 10 Cántico de Sangre by Anne Rice

necromaniac. Cyndy the Nurse was sobbing .
    "But still," said Mona, "to kill your own mother. " For one brief technicolor second, I let myself think of my own mother, Gabrielle, whom I had brough t into the Blood. Where in the wide world was she-that cold silent unmovable creature whose solitude wa s
    unimaginable to me? It hadn't been so very long ago that I'd seen her. I'd see her again, some time o r other. There was no warmth, no solace, no understanding there. But what did it matter ? Quinn rapped on the door. I let him in. I could hear the engine of the limousine started outside. Clem wa s
    getting ready for us. The night was hot. He was running the cooling. It would be sweet driving into Ne w
    Orleans . Quinn leaned back against the door when it was shut and bolted, and took a deep breath. "It would hav e been easier," he said, "to rob the Bank of England. "
    He thrust the glittering high-heel slippers into Mona's waiting hands . She looked them over . She slipped them on her feet, gaining a good four inches in height and a tension in her legs that eve n
    through the dress appeared ruthlessly seductive. The shoes were just a tiny bit too short, but it was hardly noticeable, the rhinestone-studded strap cutting across her toes exquisitely. He buckled one ankle strap as she did the other.
    She took the long white negligee from Quinn and put it on, wrapping it about her and laughing as the shivering feathers tickled her. It was loose and shimmering and gaudy and glorious.
    She ran all about the room in little and big circles. One of those things guys can't do????? Her balance was perfect. Just the beginning of her strength, and so some sense of frivolity inside of her wanted these impossible torturous slippers. Round and around, and then she froze against the far window:
    "Why on earth did you kill your mother?" she asked.
    Quinn stared at her. He seemed at a total loss. He went towards her in a great fluid gesture. He took her in his arms and pressed her to him as he'd done before and said nothing. Momentary fear. The mention of Patsy had enveloped him in darkness. Or maybe it was Aunt Queen's finery.
    There came a loud rapping at the door. Jasmine's voice followed:
    "You open up, Little Boss, and let me see that child, or I swear to God I'll get the sheriff."
    Cyndy's sweet voice followed, so reasonable and kind. "Quinn? Quinn, please let me have a look at Mona?"
    "Pick her up," I said to Quinn. "Carry her through them, past them, down the stairs and out the front door and into the car. I'm right with you."

W E WERE OUT OF THE HOUSE and on the road within three minutes, maybe less, moving on mortal time so as not to alarm any further the full chorus of those shouting at us. Mona had sense enough to pull up the shivering feathers of the wrapper over her face so that nothing could be seen of her but heaps of red hair and dangling bejeweled feet, and we made our exit with polished polite assurances to the clamoring herd, directing the profoundly indifferent Clem to head for New Orleans "immediately."
    It was I who gave the command with a quick smile that elicited the driver's sarcastic expression and shrug, but the mammoth limousine was soon rocking down the gravel drive, and Mona was between me and Quinn in the back seat, and then and only then did I begin to scan the city of New Orleans for possible victims.
    "I can hear the voices like the din from Hell," I said. "Toughen up, baby. I'm looking for the eternal scum. Call them grim soulless mortals feeding off the downtrodden or the downtrodden feeding off each other. I always wonder-and never learn-whether or not the genuine Power Thugs ever stop to look at the violet evening sky or the overhead branches of an oak. Crack peddlers, child killers, teenaged gangsters for a fatal fifteen minutes, the morgue's never empty in our town, it's an eternal brew of calculated malice mixed with moral ignorance."
    Mona dreamed, staring out the windows, caught up in every shift of the