The witching hour - By Anne Rice Page 0,143

immaculate seersucker suit, stood by the doors, looking very much the southern gentleman of the old school.

“You might have answered the phone when it rang,” said Michael. He did not add that Lightner looked like the old white-haired men he remembered from the old days who used to take their evening walks through the Garden District and along the avenue uptown.

“I didn’t feel I had the right to do that,” said Aaron politely. He opened the door for Michael and gestured to the gray car—a stretch limousine—at the curb. “Besides, I was afraid it was Dr. Mayfair.”

“Well, it was,” Michael said. Delicious gust of August heat. He wanted to take off on foot. How comfortable the pavement felt to him. But he knew he had to make this journey. He climbed into the backseat of the car.

“I see” Lightner was saying. “But you haven’t called her back.” He seated himself beside Michael.

“A deal is a deal,” Michael said with a sigh. “But I don’t like it. I’ve tried to make it clear to you how things are with me and Rowan. You know, when I was in my twenties, falling in love with a person in one evening would have been damn near impossible. Least it never happened. And when I was in my thirties? Well maybe, but again it didn’t happen, though now and then I saw just the promise … and maybe I ran away. But I’m in my late forties now, and I’m either more stupid than ever, or I know enough finally that I can fall in love with a person in one day or one night, I can size up the situation, so to speak, and figure when something is just about perfect, you know what I mean?”

“I think so.”

The car was somewhat old but plenty agreeable enough, with well-kept gray leather upholstery and a little refrigerator tucked to one side. Ample room for Michael’s long legs. St. Charles Avenue flashed by all too rapidly beyond the tinted glass.

“Mr. Curry, I respect your feelings for Rowan, though I have to confess I’m both surprised and intrigued. Oh, don’t get me wrong. The woman’s extraordinary by any standard, an incomparable physician and a beautiful young creature of rather amazing demeanor. I know. But what I ask that you understand is this: The File on the Mayfair Witches would never normally be entrusted to anyone but a member of our order or a member of the Mayfair family itself. Now I’m breaking the rules in showing you this material. And the reasons for my decision are obvious. Nevertheless, I want to use this precious time to explain to you about the Talamasca, how we operate, and what small loyalty, in exchange for our confidence, we should like to claim from you.”

“OK, don’t get so fired up. Is there some coffee in this glorified taxi?”

“Yes, of course,” said Aaron. He lifted a thermos from a pocket in the side door, and a mug with it, and started to fill the mug.

“Black will do just fine,” Michael said. A lump rose in his throat suddenly as he saw the big proud houses of the avenue gliding past, with their deep porches and colonnettes and gaily painted shutters, and the pastel sky enmeshed in a tangle of groping branches and softly fluttering leaves. A sudden crazy thought came to him, that some day he would buy a seersucker suit like Lightner’s suit, and he would walk on the avenue, like the gentlemen of years past, walk for hours, round curve after curve as the avenue followed the distant bends of the river, past all these graceful old houses that had survived for so long. He felt drugged and crazy drifting through this ragged and beautiful landscape, in this insulated car, behind dimming glass.

“Yes, it is beautiful,” Lightner said. “Very beautiful indeed.”

“OK, tell me about this order. So you’re driving around in limousines thanks to the Knights Templar. What else?”

Lightner shook his head reprovingly, a trace of a smile on his lips. But again he colored, surprising and amusing Michael.

“Just kidding you, Aaron,” said Michael. “Come on, how did you come to know about the Mayfair family in the first place? And what the hell damn is a witch, in your book, do you mind telling me that?”

“A witch is a person who can attract and manipulate unseen forces,” said Aaron. “That’s our definition. It will suffice for sorcerer or seer, as well. We were created to observe such things as