Free Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice Page B

under my roof. I like you. I know I do. And you, Quinn, where have you been of late?”
    â€œRound and about, Aunt Queen,” I answered. “Bad as Patsy in my roamings, round and about—I don’t know.”
    â€œAnd have you brought me a cameo?” she asked. “This is our custom, Lestat,” she explained, and then: “It’s been a week since you have been in this room, Tarquin Blackwood. I want my cameo. You must have one. I won’t let you off the hook.”
    â€œOh, yes, you know I almost forgot about it,” I said. (And with reason!) I felt in my right-hand coat pocket for a little tissue-covered package that I’d put there nights ago. “It’s from New York, this one, a lovely shell cameo.”
    I unwrapped the paper and put it before her in all its glory, one of the largest shell cameos that she would own. The image was from the white strata of the shell, naturally, and the background a dark pink. The cameo was a perfect oval with a particularly exquisite scalloped frame of heavy 24-carat gold.
    â€œMedusa,” she said, with obvious satisfaction, identifying the woman’s profile at once by her winged head and the wild snakes for hair. “And so large and so sharply carved.”
    â€œFearsome,” I said. “The best Medusa I’ve ever seen. Note the height of the wing, and a bit of the orange strata on the wing tip. I meant to bring it sooner. I wish that I had.”
    â€œOh, there’s no point to that, my darling,” she said. “Don’t regret it when you don’t come to see me. I think I’m timeless. You’re here now and you’ve remembered me. That’s what counts.” She looked up to Lestat eagerly. “You know the story of Medusa, don’t you?” she asked.
    Lestat hesitated, only smiling, obviously wanting her to speak more than he wanted to speak himself. He looked rather radiant in his rapture with her, and she was beaming back.
    â€œOnce beautiful, then turned into a monster,” said Aunt Queen, clearly enjoying the moment immensely. “With a face that could turn men to stone. Perseus sought her by her reflection in his polished shield, and once he’d slain her the winged horse Pegasus was born from the drops of blood that fell to earth from her severed head.”
    â€œAnd it was that head,” said Lestat confidingly, “that Athena then emblazoned on her shield.”
    â€œYou’re so very right,” said Aunt Queen.
    â€œA charm against harm,” said Lestat softly. “That’s what she became once beheaded. Another wondrous transformation, I think—beauty to monster, monster to charm.”
    â€œYes, you’re right on all counts,” said Aunt Queen. “A charm against harm,” she repeated. “Here, come, Quinn, help me take off these heavy diamonds,” she said, “and get a gold chain for me. I want to wear Medusa on my neck.”
    It was a simple matter to do as she asked. I came around directly to the dressing table and removed the diamonds from her, giving her a sly kiss on the cheek, and put the diamond necklace in its customary leather box. This always sat atop her dressing table on the right-hand side. The gold chains were in a box in the top drawer, each in its plastic pouch.
    From these I chose a strong chain of bright 24-carat gold, and one that would give her a snug but good fit. I threaded it through the bail attached to the cameo, and then put the chain around her neck for her and snapped the clasp.
    After another quick couple of kisses, very powdery and rather like kissing a person made of pure white confectioners’ sugar, I came around in front of her again. The cameo was perfectly nested against the full gathered silk of the scarf and looked both imposing and rich.
    â€œI have to admit,” I said of my new purchase, “it is really quite a trophy. Medusa is her wicked self in this one, not