Read Online Lasher by Anne Rice - Free Book Online

because she is far too proper to take him home.”
    “Is that true? Bea and Aaron. Gee, I never noticed.”
    “Well, you wouldn’t. I’ll bet Aaron will be an honorary Mayfair soon too.”
    “Wouldn’t that be something? Beatrice is perfect. You need a woman for Aaron who appreciates a gentleman, don’t you think?” His eyes closed again, as if he couldn’t prevent it.
    “Uncle Michael, there’s no such thing as a woman who doesn’t appreciate a gentleman,” said Mona.
    He opened his eyes. “Do you know everything?”
    “Nope. Wish I did, but then again, who would want to know everything? God must be bored. What do you think?”
    “I can’t figure it out,” he said, smiling again. “You’re a firecracker, Mona.”
    “Wait till you see me in a flannel nightgown.”
    “I won’t. I expect you to lock your door, and go to sleep. Aaron might come home, Eugenia could get up and start her ceaseless walking…”
    “Ceaseless walking?”
    “You know old people. I’m so sleepy, Mona. Are you sleepy?”
    “What if I get scared all alone in that front bedroom?”
    “Doesn’t compute.”
    “What did you say?”
    “Just means you’re not scared of anything. And you know it, and you know I know it.”
    “You want to sleep with me, don’t you?”
    “No.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “Doesn’t matter. I won’t do what I’m not supposed to do. Honey, I think I should call somebody.”
    “Trust me,” she said. “I’m going to go to bed now. We’ll have breakfast in the morning. Henri says he makes perfect Eggs Benedict.”
    He smiled at her vaguely, too tired to argue, too tired perhaps to even remember the phone numbers he ought to call. What evil things drugs were. They made him grope for the simplest verbal constructions. She hated them. She never touched alcohol, or drugs in any form.
    She wanted her mind like a scythe.
    He laughed suddenly. “Like a scythe!” he whispered.
    Ah, so he’d caught it. She had to stop herself from acknowledging this, because he didn’t realize that she hadn’t spoken. She smiled. She wanted to kiss him again, but didn’t think it would do any good. Probably do harm. He’d be dead asleep again in a few minutes. Then maybe, after a nice long bath, she’d search for the Victrola upstairs.
    He surprised her by throwing back the covers and climbing out of the bed. He walked ahead of her, unsteady, but obviously chivalric.
    “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is,” he said. Another yawn and a deep breath as he led her out the door.
    The front bedroom was as beautiful as it had been on the day of the wedding. There was even a bouquet of yellow and white roses on the marble mantel, somewhat like the bouquet which had been there on that day. And Rowan’s white silk robe was laid out, as if she really were coming home again, on the pale damask coverlet of the four-poster bed.
    He stopped for a moment, looking about as if he had forgotten what he meant to do. He wasn’t remembering. She would have felt it if he’d been remembering. He was struggling for the context. That’s what drugs did to you, they took the context of familiar things away.
    “The nightgowns,” he said. He made a halfhearted little gesture towards the open bathroom door.
    “I’ll find them, Uncle Michael. Go back to bed.”
    “You’re not really scared, are you, honey?” Too innocent.
    “No, Uncle Michael,” she said, “you go back to sleep.”
    He stared at her for a long moment, as if he could not even concentrate on the words she spoke. But he was determined tobe protective, determined to worry appropriately. “If you get scared…” he said.
    “I won’t, Uncle Michael. I was teasing you.” She couldn’t help smiling. “I’m the thing to be afraid of, most of the time.”
    He couldn’t repress a smile at that either. He shook his head and went out, throwing her one last very blue-eyed and adorable glance in which fire burned up the drugs for a moment, and then he