“Sure, I’m glad to talk to friends of Quinn’s,” Patsy said. “You sit down, all of you. It’s never happened before. Nash is so stuck-up, he calls me Miss Blackwood most of the time. Jasmine can’t stand the sight of me. She thinks I don’t know that black bastard of hers is your child. Like Hell I don’t know. Everyone in the parish knows. And she runs around saying, ‘He is my son’ like he came from a virgin birth, can you imagine? I tell you if that child’s father had been anybody but you, Quinn, it would have been out with the trash, but it was little Quinn who got into Jasmine’s panties and so it’s just fine, according to Aunt Queen, just fine, let the little bastard have the run of the house, it’s just—”

“Come on, Patsy, stop it,” I said. “If anybody hurt that child’s feelings, you’d be the first to stick up for him.”

“I’m not trying to hurt him, Quinn, I’m trying to hurt you, ‘cause I hate you.”

“Well, I’ll give you some real good opportunities to hurt me. You just need to talk to me and my friends.”

“Well, that will be a pleasure.”

Merrick had taken the chair in which Big Ramona had been sitting, and all this while she had been studying Patsy, and now in a low voice she introduced herself by her first name and she introduced Lestat also.

I sat down beside Merrick.

Patsy nodded to these introductions and said with a searingly vicious smile, “I’m Tarquin’s mother.”

“Patsy, did he have a twin?” Merrick asked. “A twin that was born at the same time he was or moments after?”

Utter silence fell over Patsy. I had never seen such an expression on her face. It went blank, yes, with a combination of stupefaction and dread, and then she screamed for Cindy. “Cindy, I need you, Cindy, I’m panicky! Cindy!”

She turned this way and that, until Lestat placed his hand firmly on her shoulder. He spoke her name in a whisper. She appeared to look into his eyes and to lose her hysteria as if it were being drained out of her.

Cindy appeared in the door with the syringe poised.

“Now, Patsy, you just hang on,” she said, and then she came forward and, sitting on Patsy’s left, she very modestly lifted the gown and gave Patsy a shot of the sedative in her left hip, and then stood there waiting.

Patsy was still looking into Lestat’s eyes.

“You understand,” Patsy said. “It was the most pitifulest, terriblest thing—.” She shuddered. “You can’t imagine.”

Without taking his eyes off Patsy, Lestat told Cindy that Patsy was fine now.

Patsy turned her eyes to the Oriental rug and she appeared to be tracing its patterns. Then she looked up at me.