“We should meet tonight,” said Merrick in a low voice. “Your spirit friend is dangerous. I can sense his presence. He isn’t eager to be seen by me or by Lestat. But he’s here. There’s no time to lose.”

“We’ll meet at the house?” I asked.

“Yes, you go with your family,” said Lestat. “We’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”

“Your mother, she’s headed there also,” said Merrick. “She wants to leave, however. Try to keep her. We have to talk to her. Tell her that we have to talk to her. Use any means you can to keep her there.”

“But why?” I asked.

“When we get together,” said Merrick, “you’ll understand.”

The limousine was waiting for me. And so were Tommy, Patsy, Big Ramona, Nash, Jasmine and Clem.

I glanced back once at the coffin and the mortuary personnel and the cemetery workers as they prepared the crypt—just what they had not wanted us to see—and then I went back to take two red roses from the bank of flowers, and, glancing up, I saw Goblin.

He stood at the very door of the mausoleum. He was dressed as I was, in a black suit, and his hair was like mine, full but trimmed, and he stared at me with wild, sparkling eyes, and all through him, solid though he was, I could see an intricate web of blood, as it infected all that made up the illusion. The image remained for one second, perhaps two, and then winked out as though it had been a flame.

I shuddered. I felt the breeze. The emptiness.

Taking the two roses with me, I got into the car and we headed for Blackwood Manor.

Patsy cried all the way. “I haven’t been right up to that damn tomb in all these years,” she kept saying. “And we have to come in the middle of the night on account of Quinn, little Quinn, how fitting, little Quinn!”

“You didn’t have to come,” said Big Ramona. “Now shush, you’re making yourself sick.”

“Oh, damn you, damn you all, what do you know about sick?”

And so on it went for the long ride home.

By the time we reached the house my anxious hands had involuntarily crushed both roses into wanton petals.

CHAPTER 47

47

PATSY WAS in the front bedroom across from mine, and as soon as we reached home, Cindy, our beloved nurse, went up to attend to her, to make certain she had taken her medicines and to give her some sort of mild tranquilizer. She was soon in an official Blackwood Manor flannel nightgown with no intentions of going anywhere, though when she saw me pass the door to my room she screamed at me that I had made her nauseated by dragging us all to the cemetery “at midnight.”

It was not yet midnight.