Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice Page A

proportioned features—entranced me even as the trance induced by Goblin slowly wore away.
    â€œHe found me here,” I said, “and I don’t even know where I am. He found me here, and he can find me anywhere, and each time, as I told you, he takes a little more blood.”
    â€œSurely you can fight him,” Lestat said, encouragingly.
    His expression was concerned and protective, and I felt such an overwhelming need of him and love for him that I was about to cry. I held it back.
    â€œMaybe I can learn to fight him,” I said, “but is that enough?”
    â€œCome, let’s leave this graveyard,” he answered. “You have to tell me about him. You have to tell me how this came about.”
    â€œI don’t know that I have all the answers,” I said. “But I have a story to tell.”
    I followed him out onto the terrace into the fresh air.
    â€œLet’s go to Blackwood Manor,” I said. “I don’t know of another place where we can talk in such peace. Only my aunt is there tonight and her lovable entourage, and maybe my mother, and they’ll all leave us completely alone. They’re utterly used to me.”
    â€œAnd Goblin?” he asked. “Will he be stronger there if he does come back?”
    â€œHe was as strong as ever only moments ago,” I responded. “I think that I’ll be stronger.”
    â€œThen Blackwood Manor it is,” he said.
    Again there came his firm arm around me and we were traveling upwards. The sky spread out, full of clouds, and then we broke through to the very stars.

5
    WITHIN MOMENTS we found ourselves in front of the big house, and I experienced a flashing sense of embarrassment as I looked at its huge two-story columned portico.
    Of course the garden lights were on, brilliantly illuminating the fluted columns to their full height, and all of the many rooms were aglow. In fact, I had a rule on this and had had since boyhood, that at four o’clock all chandeliers in the main house had to be lighted, and though I was no longer that boy in the grip of twilight depression, the chandeliers were illuminated by the same clock.
    A quick chuckle from Lestat caught me off guard.
    â€œAnd why are you so embarrassed?” he asked genially, having easily read my mind. “America destroys her big houses. Some of them don’t even last a hundred years.” His accent lessened. He sounded more intimate. “This place is magnificent,” he said casually. “I like the big columns. The portico, the pediment, it’s all rather glorious. Perfect Greek Revival style. How can you be ashamed of such things? You’re a strange creature, very gentle I think, and out of kilter with your own time.”
    â€œWell, how can I belong to it now?” I asked. “Given the Dark Blood and all its wondrous attributes. What do you think?”
    I was at once ashamed of having answered so directly, but he merely took it in stride.
    â€œNo, but I mean,” he said, “you didn’t belong to this time before the Dark Gift, did you? The threads of your life, they weren’t woven into any certain fabric.” His manner seemed simple and friendly.
    â€œI suppose you’re right,” I responded. “In fact, you’re very right.”
    â€œYou’re going to tell me all about it, aren’t you?” he asked. His golden eyebrows were very clear against his tanned skin, and he frowned slightly while smiling at the same time. It made him look very clever and loving, though I wasn’t sure why.
    â€œYou want me to?” I asked.
    â€œOf course I do,” he answered. “It’s what you want to do and must do, besides.” There came that mischievous smile and frown again. “Now, shall we go inside?”
    â€œOf course, yes,” I said, greatly relieved as much by his friendly manner as by what he said. I couldn’t quite grasp that I had him with