Merrick (Vampire/Witches Chronicles)
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In this mesmerizing new novel, Anne Rice demonstrates once again her gift for spellbinding storytelling and the creation of myth and magic, as she weaves together two of her most compelling worlds? those of the Vampire Chronicles and the Mayfair witches.
Ezilie, a goddess of Voodoo, with heaps of flowers at her feet and perhaps the most candles before her, all of them aflicker in their deep glasses as a breeze stirred the room. There stood St. Martin de Porres, the black saint of South America, with his broom in hand, and beside him, St. Patrick stood gazing down, his feet surrounded by fleeing snakes. All had their place in the underground religions which the slaves of the Americas had nourished for so long. There were all kinds of obscure
little box which she had taken from my room. The woman’s voice continued, cold, utterly without feeling, and with a faint tone of mockery. “Matthew used to smoke Rothmans, Mr. Talbot. He went to the French Quarter to buy them. You don’t find them at the corner store. Smoked them right up until he died.” “Who are you?” I asked. Aaron said nothing. He relinquished command to me at this moment completely, but he stood his ground. “Don’t be so hasty, Mr. Talbot,” came the hard-toned answer. “Ask
settled in the chair, and put it on the nightstand to my left. The Scotch tasted wonderful. I didn’t drink on the plane at all, wanting to be alert for my reunion, and it took the edge off my nerves beautifully. She was still crying. “All right, you’re going to call up Honey, and you think for some reason Honey knows the name of the town or the village.” “Honey liked those places,” she said, unperturbed by my urgent voice. “Honey liked the name of the village from which we hiked to the cave.”
figure in the doorway appeared as solid as anything I’d ever beheld. The shadowy face showed no expression, but the yellow eyes remained fixed. Then a voice issued from it, low, and full of hatred. “Fool, you never caused it!” said the voice. “Fool, you think you caused that to happen to us? You never caused anything. Fool, you couldn’t make a curse to save your soul!” I thought Merrick would lose consciousness, but somehow she remained standing, though my arms were ready to hold her should
existence and the location of the Maya village of Santa Cruz del Flores to the northeast. Merrick was wonderfully excited. A small plane took us to a lovely northern city closer to our destination. And from there we set out with the field assistants in two well-stocked jeeps. I loved the warmth, the sound of the soft rain, the lilt of Spanish and the native Amerindian voices; and the sight of so many Amerindians in their beautiful white clothes and with their gentle faces made me feel