Blackwood Farm (Vampire Chronicles Series #9)

Blackwood Farm (Vampire Chronicles Series #9)

4.3 273
by Anne Rice

View All Available Formats & Editions

"Welcome to Blackwood Farm: soaring white columns, spacious drawing rooms, sun-drenched gardens, and a dark strip of the dense Sugar Devil Swamp. This is the world of Quinn Blackwood, a brilliant young man haunted since birth by a mysterious doppelganger, a spirit known as Goblin, a spirit from a dreamworld that Quinn can't escape and that prevents him from belonging…  See more details below


"Welcome to Blackwood Farm: soaring white columns, spacious drawing rooms, sun-drenched gardens, and a dark strip of the dense Sugar Devil Swamp. This is the world of Quinn Blackwood, a brilliant young man haunted since birth by a mysterious doppelganger, a spirit known as Goblin, a spirit from a dreamworld that Quinn can't escape and that prevents him from belonging anywhere. When Quinn is made a vampire, losing all that is rightfully his and gaining an unwanted immortality, his doppelganger becomes even more vampiric and terrifying than Quinn himself." As the novel moves backward and forward in time, from Quinn's boyhood on Blackwood Farm to present-day New Orleans, from ancient Pompeii to nineteenth-century Naples, Quinn seeks out the legendary Vampire Lestat in the hope of freeing himself from the specter that draws him inexorably back to Sugar Devil Swamp and the explosive secrets it holds.

Editorial Reviews

This ravishing Vampire Chronicles novel tells the carefully knotted tales of Quinn Blackwood, a brilliant and charming young bloodsucker who has been haunted since childhood by a mysterious doppelgänger named Goblin. Quinn enlists the feared, revered Lestat to help control this ominous creature. Together they return to Quinn's Southern gothic hereditary estate, where they unearth dark family secrets that only make his nemesis more menacing.

Product Details

Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:
Vampire Chronicles Series, #9
Edition description:
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
4.20(w) x 6.88(h) x 1.37(d)
Age Range:
14 - 18 Years

Read an Excerpt

Blackwood Farm



If you find this letter in your house in the Rue Royale, and I do sincerely think you will find it—you’ll know at once that I’ve broken your rules.

I know that New Orleans is off limits to Blood Hunters, and that any found there will be destroyed by you. And unlike many a rogue invader whom you have already dispatched, I understand your reasons. You don’t want us to be seen by members of the Talamasca. You don’t want a war with the venerable Order of Psychic Detectives, both for their sake and ours.

But please, I beg you, before you come in search of me, read what I have to say.

My name is Quinn. I’m twenty-two years old, and have been a Blood Hunter, as my Maker called it, for slightly less than a year. I’m an orphan now, as I see it, and it is to you that I turn for help.

But before I make my case, please understand that I know the Talamasca, that I knew them before the Dark Blood was ever given to me, and I know of their inherent goodness and their legendary neutrality as regards things supernatural, and I will have taken great pains to elude them in placing this letter in your flat.

That you keep a telepathic watch over New Orleans is plain to me. That you’ll find the letter I have no doubt.

If you do come to bring a swift justice to me for my disobedience, assure me please that you will do your utmost to destroy a spirit which has been my companion since I was a child. This creature, a duplicate of me who has grown with me since before I can remember, now poses a danger to humans as well as to myself.

Let me explain.

As a little boyI named this spirit Goblin, and that was well before anyone had told me nursery rhymes or fairy tales in which such a word might appear. Whether the name came from the spirit himself I don’t know. However, at the mere mention of the name, I could always call him to me. Many a time he came of his own accord and wouldn’t be banished. At others, he was the only friend I had. Over the years, he has been my constant familiar, maturing as I matured and becoming ever more skilled at making known to me his wishes. You could say I strengthened and shaped Goblin, unwittingly creating the monster that he is now.

The truth is, I can’t imagine existence without Goblin. But I have to imagine it. I have to put an end to Goblin before he metamorphoses into something utterly beyond my control.

Why do I call him a monster—this creature who was once my only playmate? The answer is simple. In the months since my being made a Blood Hunter—and understand, I had no choice whatsoever in the matter—Goblin has acquired his own taste for blood. After every feeding, I am embraced by him, and blood is drawn from me into him by a thousand infinitesimal wounds, strengthening the image of him, and lending to his presence a soft fragrance which Goblin never had before. With each passing month, Goblin becomes stronger, and his assaults on me more prolonged.

I can no longer fight him off.

It won’t surprise you, I don’t think, that these assaults are vaguely pleasurable, not as pleasurable to me as feeding on a human victim, but they involve a vague orgasmic shimmer that I can’t deny.

But it is not my vulnerability to Goblin that worries me now. It is the question of what Goblin may become.

Now, I have read your Vampire Chronicles through and through. They were bequeathed to me by my Maker, an ancient Blood Hunter who gave me, according to his own version of things, an enormous amount of strength as well.

In your stories you talk of the origins of the vampires, quoting an ancient Egyptian Elder Blood Drinker who told the tale to the wise one, Marius, who centuries ago passed it on to you.

Whether you and Marius made up some of what was written in your books I don’t know. You and your comrades, the Coven of the Articulate, as you are now called, may well have a penchant for telling lies.

But I don’t think so. I’m living proof that Blood Drinkers exist—whether they are called Blood Drinkers, vampires, Children of the Night or Children of the Millennia—and the manner in which I was made conforms to what you describe.

Indeed, though my Maker called us Blood Hunters rather than vampires, he used words which have appeared in your tales. The Cloud Gift he gave to me so that I can travel effortlessly by air; and also the Mind Gift to seek out telepathically the sins of my victims; as well as the Fire Gift to ignite the fire in the iron stove here that keeps me warm.

So I believe your stories. I believe in you.

I believe you when you say that Akasha, the first of the vampires, was created when an evil spirit invaded every fiber of her being, a spirit which had, before attacking her, acquired a taste for human blood.

I believe you when you say that this spirit, named Amel by the two witches who could see him and hear him—Maharet and Mekare—exists now in all of us, his mysterious body, if we may call it that, having grown like a rampant vine to blossom in every Blood Hunter who is made by another, right on up to the present time.

I know as well from your stories that when the witches Mekare and Maharet were made Blood Hunters, they lost the ability to see and talk to spirits. And indeed my Maker told me that I would lose mine.

But I assure you, I have not lost my powers as a seer of spirits. I am still their magnet. And it is perhaps this ability in me, this receptiveness, and my early refusal to spurn Goblin, that have given him the strength to be plaguing me for vampiric blood now.

Lestat, if this creature grows ever more strong, and it seems there is nothing I can do to stop him, is it possible that he can enter a human being, as Amel did in ancient times? Is it possible that yet another species of the vampiric root may be created, and from that root yet another vine?

I cannot imagine your being indifferent to this question, or to the possibility that Goblin will become a killer of humans, though he is far from that strength right now.

I think you will understand when I say that I’m frightened for those whom I love and cherish—my mortal family—as well as for any stranger whom Goblin might eventually attack.

It’s hard to write these words. For all my life I have loved Goblin and scorned anyone who denigrated him as an “imaginary playmate” or a “foolish obsession.” But he and I, for so long mysterious bedfellows, are now enemies, and I dread his attacks because I feel his increasing strength.

Goblin withdraws from me utterly when I am not hunting, only to reappear when the fresh blood is in my veins. We have no spiritual intercourse now, Goblin and I. He seems afire with jealousy that I’ve become a Blood Hunter. It’s as though his childish mind has been wiped clean of all it once learned.

It is an agony for me, all of this.

But let me repeat: it is not on my account that I write to you. It is in fear of what Goblin may become.

Of course I want to lay eyes upon you. I want to talk to you. I want to be received, if such a thing is possible, into the Coven of the Articulate. I want you, the great breaker of rules, to forgive me that I have broken yours.

I want you who were kidnapped and made a vampire against your will to look kindly on me because the same thing happened to me.

I want you to forgive my trespass into your old flat in the Rue Royale, where I hope to hide this letter. I want you to know as well that I haven’t hunted in New Orleans and never will.

And speaking of hunting, I too have been taught to hunt the Evil Doer, and though my record isn’t perfect, I’m learning with each feast. I’ve also mastered the Little Drink, as you so elegantly call it, and I’m a visitor to noisy mortal parties who is never noticed as he feeds from one after another in quick and deft moves.

But in the main, my existence is lonely and bitter. If it weren’t for my mortal family, it would be unendurable. As for my Maker, I shun him and his cohorts, and with reason.

That’s a story I’d like to tell you. In fact, there are many stories I want to tell you. I pray that my stories might keep you from destroying me. You know, we could play a game. We meet and I start talking, and slap damn, you kill me when I take a verbal turn you don’t like.

But seriously, Goblin is my concern.

Let me add before I close that during this last year of being a fledgling Blood Hunter, of reading your Chronicles and trying to learn from them, I have often been tempted to go to the Talamasca Motherhouse at Oak Haven, outside of New Orleans. I have often been tempted to ask the Talamasca for counsel and help.

When I was a boy—and I’m hardly more than that now—there was a member of the Talamasca who was able to see Goblin as clearly as I could—a gentle, nonjudgmental Englishman named Stirling Oliver, who advised me about my powers and how they could become too strong for me to control. I grew to love Stirling within a very short time.

I also fell deeply in love with a young girl who was in the company of Stirling when I met him, a red-haired beauty with considerable paranormal power who could also see Goblin—one to whom the Talamasca had opened its generous heart.

That young girl is beyond my reach now. Her name is May-fair, a name that is not unfamiliar to you, though this young girl probably knows nothing of your friend and companion Merrick Mayfair, even to this day.

But she is most certainly from the same family of powerful psychics—they seem to delight in calling themselves witches—and I have sworn never to see her again. With her considerable powers she would realize at once that something catastrophic has happened to me. And I cannot let my evil touch her in any way.

When I read your Chronicles, I was mildly astonished to discover that the Talamasca had turned against the Blood Hunters. My Maker had told me this, but I didn’t believe it until I read it in your books.

It’s still hard for me to imagine that these gentle people have broken one thousand years of neutrality in a warning against all of our kind. They seemed so proud of their benevolent history, so psychologically dependent upon a secular and kindly definition of themselves.

Obviously, I can’t go to the Talamasca now. They might become my sworn enemies if I do that. They are my sworn enemies! And on account of my past contact, they know exactly where I live. But more significantly, I can’t seek their help because you don’t want it.

You and the other members of the Coven of the Articulate do not want one of us to fall into the hands of an order of scholars who are only too eager to study us at close range.

As for my red-haired Mayfair love, let me repeat that I wouldn’t dream of approaching her, though I’ve sometimes wondered if her extraordinary powers couldn’t help me to somehow put an end to Goblin for all time. But this could not be done without my frightening her and confusing her, and I won’t interrupt her human destiny as mine was interrupted for me. I feel even more cut off from her than I did in the past.

And so, except for my mortal connections, I’m alone.

I don’t expect your pity on account of this. But maybe your understanding will prevent you from immediately annihilating me and Goblin without so much as a warning.

That you can find both of us I have no doubt. If even half the Chronicles are true, it’s plain that your Mind Gift is without measure. Nevertheless, let me tell you where I am.

My true home is the wooden Hermitage on Sugar Devil Island, deep in Sugar Devil Swamp, in northeastern Louisiana, not far from the Mississippi border. Sugar Devil Swamp is fed by the West Ruby River, which branches off from the Ruby at Rubyville.

Acres of this deep cypress swamp have belonged to my family for generations, and no mortal ever accidentally finds his way in here to Sugar Devil Island, I’m certain of it, though my great-great-great-grandfather Manfred Blackwood did build the house in which I sit, writing to you now.

Our ancestral home is Blackwood Manor, an august if not overblown house in the grandest Greek Revival style, replete with enormous and dizzying Corinthian columns, an immense structure on high ground.

Copyright 2002 by Anne Rice

Read More

Meet the Author

Anne Rice lives in New Orleans with her husband, the poet and painter Stan Rice.

Brief Biography

Rancho Mirage, California
Date of Birth:
October 4, 1941
Place of Birth:
Rancho Mirage, California
B.A., San Francisco State University, 1964; M.A., 1971

Customer Reviews

Average Review:

Write a Review

and post it to your social network


Most Helpful Customer Reviews

See all customer reviews >

Blackwood Farm (Vampire Chronicles Series #9) 4.3 out of 5 based on 1 ratings. 273 reviews.
gohanman31 More than 1 year ago
I got this novel and couldn't put it down from start to finish! I've read, "Queen of the Damned" and this is my only second novel by the writer, Anne Rice. What a wonderful mix of ghost story...a vampire plot too. Definitely, a really good book to read if you like either or both ghost and/or vampire stories. I would recommend this book to anyone for a really good reading time.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This was my first step into Anne Rice's world- and I am utterly hooked! I loved how she wrote Quinn to be so human and helplessly erotic. I just can't decide which novel I should read next.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Possibly one of the best books Anne Rice has written. It holds you from start to finish. The book is a masterpiece i couldnt put it down. You feel for Quinn as he struggles with changes and love. Torn between the woman he loves and his life long friend. This is a must read book for any Vampire Chronicle fan it is not to be missed! The background is eloquently painted by Rice in her classic style of writing. It almost brings you back to the Interview with a Vampire days.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Love the characters. Aunt Queen, Mona, Quinn. Pierce, Micheal Curry,... Rowan has become... less... once an adored main character, she is just worn down by life. A rare thing in fiction, and hard to accept from book pages, but people who go through too much sometimes change in saddening and maddening ways. The Talamasca is front and center to this tale, as Quinn comes to realize his childhood imaginary friend/twin/doppelganger was very real and dangerous to his family. Family values are front and center to this Southern setting as romantic Blackwood Manor becomes linked to the Mayfair witches by the love of Mona and Quinn. Can't remember now where the vamps fit in... one stays at the manor and befriends Quinn??? Lestat. Of course. A lovely romance, a ghost story, the danger of the doppelganger, a look inside the mysterious Talamasca, and the weirdness of the Mayfairs, and Lestat. Plus the book is a decent length. Hate short books. Loved this book almost as much as the Mayfair Witches. :)
cov More than 1 year ago
I did not read these books in order, however I was able to follow the storyline. The characters were very detailed and the story flowed and kept you interested.
Freckles314 More than 1 year ago
The action begins right at the beginning when the main character is bold enough to come face to face with The Vampire Lestat in attempt to seek help in ridding himself of a ghost that has haunted him since birth. The book is filled with unexpected thrills and turns, most importantly the entrance of the Mayfair witches- leaving the reader with a strong feeling of satisfaction as this most famous series of books approaches there end.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this book a lot. I must say, for the past several years, I have not been too pleased with Ms Rice's books. Ever since The Vampire Chronicles 'ended' and she began the sub series about individual vampires, my interest in her novels began to wane. So, I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, when I read this book and was immediately entranced with it. This is the Anne Rice I love, and is my favorite book out of the ones she has written since Memnoch the Devil.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I wisely waited until I actually read the book before writing a review. That said, my kudos to Anne for a gem of a story. While it's true some of her work hit the mark better than others, I have never failed to appreciate Anne's wonderful talent for weaving a compelling story. She could have easily lost the thread of this story with so many other intriguing side subjects, but she held the line with perfect balance. I too, love the witch stories, and have been waiting for more tidbits on that subject. Again, Anne handled the fusion with remarkable skill. While Anne's work isn't for everyone, she has a place of honor in my library.
Anonymous 5 months ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A definite must read!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Bn y hnnbnhyybh unyjn
BonnieFL More than 1 year ago
Usually I read books but recently I have turn to some old favorites on Audio and listen while I work. Stephen Spinella's reading of Blackwood Farm mesmerized me from the start.. The story of Quinn Blackwood and his spirit known as Goblin. The setting is in the deep south of New Orleans. You will meet an array of notable characters of the "family" such as Aunt Queen. A cross of Vampires and ghosts. Simply wonderful.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A page turner A true Anne Rice classic! She makes you see the scene and feel the atmosphere! I hate when the story ends- couldn't put it down!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
My favorite book! The characters are too sophisticated and beaitiful to NOT love.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book, for me, is quintessential Anne Rice. The character development, scenery descriptions, and story line are as romantic and researched as one would expect.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
cindylb More than 1 year ago
Good book
Anonymous More than 1 year ago