cpike.thelastvampire-第6部分

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　I　finally　take　my　hand　back。　〃If　you　check　with　Pat；　she'll　say　it　is　fine　to　help　me　as　long　as　she　gets　to　e　along。〃　I　shrug。　〃Any　girl　would。〃
　〃Can　she　e　over；　too？〃
　〃No。〃
　My　answer　startles　him。　But　he　is　too　shrewd　to　ask　me　why。　He　simply　nods。　〃I'll　talk　to　her。　Maybe　I　can　e　a　little　later。　What　time　do　you　go　to　bed？〃
　〃Late。〃
　The　lecture　in　biology　is　about　photosynthesis。　How　the　sun's　energy　is　changed　into　chemical　energy　through　the　presence　of　green　chlorophyll；　and　how　this　green　pigment　in　turn　supports　the　entire　food　chain。　The　teacher　makes　a　ment　I　find　interesting…chlorophyll　and　red　blood　cells　are　practically　identical。　Except　in　chlorophyll　the　iron　atom　is　replaced　by　a　magnesium　atom。　I　look　over　at　Ray　and　think　that　in　the　evolutionary　chain；　only　one　atom　separates　us。
　Of　course；　I　know　that　evolution　would　never　have　created　a　vampire。　We　were　an　accident；　a　horrible　mistake。　It　occurs　to　me　that　if　Ray　does　help　me　examine　his　father's　files；　I　should　probably　kill　him　afterward。　He　smiles　at　me　as　I　look　at　him。　I　can　tell　he　likes　me　already。　But　I　don't　smile　back。　My　thoughts　are　too　dark。
　The　class　ends。　I　give　Ray　my　address；　but　not　my　phone　number。　He　will　not　call　and　cancel　on　me。　It　is　the　address　of　a　new　house　that　was　rented　for　me　that　morning。　Mr。　Riley　will　have　my　other　address　in　his　files；　and　I　don't　want　Ray　to　draw　the　connection　when　and　if　we　go　into　his　puter。　Ray　promises　to　e　over　as　soon　as　he　is　able。　He　does　not　have　sex　on　his　mind；　but　something　else　I　cannot　fathom。　Still；　I　will　give　him　sex　if　he　wants　it。　I　will　give　him　more　than　he　bargains　for。
　I　go　to　my　new　home；　a　plain　suburban　affair。　It　is　furnished。　Quickly；　not　breaking　a　sweat；　I　move　most　of　the　furniture　into　the　garage。　Then　I　retire　to　the　master　bedroom；　draw　all　the　shades；　and　lie　down　on　the　hard　wooden　floor　and　close　my　eyes。　The　sun　has　drained　my　strength；　I　tell　myself。　But　as　I　doze　off　I　know　it　is　also　the　people　I　have　met　this　day　that　have　cut　deep　into　me；　where　my　iron　blood　flows　like　a　black　river　over　the　cold　dust　of　forgotten　ages；　dripping　onto　this　green　world；　onto　the　present；　like　the　curse　of　the　Lord　himself。　I　hope　to　dream　of　Krishna　as　I　fall　asleep；　but　I　do　not。　The　devil　is　there　instead。
　Yaksha；　the　first　of　the　vampires。
　As　I　am　the　last。
　
　
　3
　
　
　We　were　the　original　Aryans…blond　and　blue　eyed。　We　invaded　India；　before　there　were　calendars；　like　a　swarm　of　hornets　in　search　of　warmer　climates。　We　brought　sharp　swords　and　spilled　much　blood。　But　in　3000　b。c。；　when　I　was　born；　we　were　still　there；　no　longer　enemies；　but　part　of　a　culture　that　was　capable　of　absorbing　every　invader　and　making　him　a　brother。　I　came　into　the　world　named　Sita；　in　a　small　village　in　Rajastan；　where　the　desert　had　already　begun　to　blow　in　sand　from　the　dead　lands　to　the　west。　I　was　there　at　the　beginning；　and　had　as　a　friend　the　mother　of　all　vampires。　Amba；　which　meant　mother　in　my　language。　She　was　a　good　woman。　Amba　was　seven　years　older　than　my　seven　years　when　the　disease　came　to　our　village。　Although　separated　by　seven　years；　we　were　good　friends。　I　was　tall　for　my　age；　she　was　short；　and　we　both　loved　to　sing；　bajans　mainly；　holy　songs　from　the　sacred　Vedas；　which　we　chanted　by　the　river　after　dark。　My　skin　was　brown　from　the　harsh　sun；　Amba's　dark　from　a　grandfather　who　was　of　original　Indian　stock。　We　did　not　look　alike；　but　when　we　sang　our　voices　were　one　and　I　was　happy。　Life　was　simple　in　Rajastan。
　Until　the　disease　came。　It　did　not　strike　everyone；　only　half。　I　do　not　know　why　I　was　spared；　since　I　drank　from　the　polluted　river　as　much　as　Amba　and　the　rest。　Amba　was　one　of　the　first　to　fall　ill。　She　Vomited　blood　the　last　two　days　of　her　life；　and　all　I　could　do　was　sit　by　her　side　and　watch　her　die。　My　sorrow　was　particularly　great　because　Amba　was　eight　months　pregnant　at　the　time。　Even　though　I　was　her　best　friend；　she　never　did　tell　me　who　the　father　was。　She　never　told　anyone。
　When　she　died；　it　should　have　ended　there。　Her　body　should　have　been　taken　to　the　cremation　ground　and　offered　to　Vishnu；　her　ashes　thrown　in　the　river。　But　recently　an　Aghoran　priest　had　entered　our　village。　He　had　other　ideas　for　her　body。　Aghora　was　the　left…handed　path；　the　dark　path；　and　no　one　would　have　listened　to　what　the　priest　had　to　say　if　the　panic　over　the　plague　hadn't　been　in　the　air。　The　priest　brought　his　blasphemous　ideas；　but　many　listened　to　him　because　of　their　fears　for　the　plague。　He　said　the　plague　was　the　result　of　an　evil　rakshasa　or　demon　that　had　taken　offense　at　our　worship　of　the　great　God　Vishnu。　He　said　the　only　way　to　free　our　village　of　the　rakshasa　was　to　call　forth　an　even　greater　being；　a　yakshini；　and　implore　the　yakshini　to　eat　the　rakshasa。
　Some　thought　this　idea　was　reasonable；　but　many　others；　myself　included；　felt　that　if　God　couldn't　protect　us；　how　could　a　yakshini？　Also；　many　of　us　worried　what　the　yakshini　would　do　once　it　had　devoured　the　rakshasa。　From　our　Vedic　texts　we　knew　that　yakshinis　had　no　love　for　human　beings。　But　the　Aghoran　priest　said　that　he　could　handle　the　yakshini；　and　so　he　was　allowed　to　go　ahead　with　his　plans。
　Aghorans　usually　do　not　invoke　a　deity　into　a　statue　or　an　altar　but　into　the　corpse　of　someone　recently　dead。　It　is　this　practice　in　particular　that　has　them　shunned　by　most　religious　people　in　India。　But　desperate　people　often　forget　their　religion　when　they　need　it　most。　There　were　so　many　dead　at　the　time；　the　priest　had　his　choice　of　corpses。　But　he　chose　Amba's　body；　and　I　think　the　fact　of　her　late　pregnancy　attracted　him。　I　was　only　a　child　at　the　time；　but　I　could　see　something　in　the　eyes　of　the　priest　that　frightened　me。　Something　cold　and　uncaring。
　Being　so　young；　I　was　not　permitted　to　attend　the　ceremony。　None　of　the　women　were　allowed。　Because　I　was　worried　what　they　were　going　to　do　with　my　friend's　body；　however；　I　stole　into　the　woods　in　the　middle　of　the　night　they　were　to　perform　the　invocation。　I　watched　from　behind　a　boulder；　at　the　edge　of　a　clearing；　as　the　Aghoran　priest　with　the　help　of　six　men…one　of　them　my　father…prepared　Amba's　naked　body。　They　anointed　her　with　clarified　butter　and　camphor　and　wine。　Then；　beside　a　roaring　fire；　seated　close　to　Amba's　upturned　head；　the　priest　began　a　long　repetitious　chant。　I　did　not　like　it；　it　sounded　nothing　like　the　bajans　we　chanted　to　Vishnu。　The　mantras　were　hard　on　the　ear；　and　each　time　the　priest　pleted　a　verse；　he　would　strike　Amba's　belly　with　a　long　sharp　stick。　It　was　as　if　he　were　imploring　her　to　wake　up；　or　else　trying　to　wake　something　up　inside　her。
　This　went　on　for　a　long　time；　and　soon　Amba's　belly　began　to　bleed；　which　frightened　the　men。　Because　she　bled　as　a　living　person；　as　if　there　were　a　heart　beating　inside　her。　But　I　knew　this　could　not　be。　I　had　been　with　Amba　when　she　died　and　sat　beside　her　body　for　a　long　time　afterward；　and　not　once；　even　faintly；　had　she　drawn　in　a　breath。　I　was　not　tempted　to　run　to　her。　Not　for　a　moment　did　I　believe　the　priest　had　brought　her　back　to　life。　Indeed；　I　was　tempted　to　flee　back　to　my　mother；　who　surely　must　have　been　wondering　where　I　was。　Especially　when　a　dark　cloud　went　over　the　moon　and　a　heavy　breeze　began　to　stir；　a　wind　that　stank　of　decay　and　waste。　The　smell　was　atrocious。　It　was　as　if　a　huge　demon　had　suddenly　appeared　and　breathed　down　upon　the　ceremony。
　Something　had　e。　As　the　smell　worsened；　and　the　men　began　to　mutter　aloud　that　they　should　stop；　the　fire　abruptly　shrank　to　red　coals。　Smoke　filled　the　air；　curling　around　the　bloody　glow　of　the　embers　like　so　many　snakes　over　a　rotting　prey。　Some　of　the　men　cried　out　in　fear。　But　the　priest　laughed　and　chanted　louder。　Yet　even　his　voice　failed　when　Amba　suddenly　sat　up。
　She　was　hideous　to　behold。　Her　face　dripped　blood。　Her　eyes　bulged　from　her　head　as　if　pushed　out　from　the　inside。　Her　grin　widened　over　her　teeth　as　if　pulled　by　wires。　Worst　of　all　was　her　tongue；　it　stretched　much　longer　than　any　human　tongue　could；　almost　a　foot；　curling　and　licking　at　the　air　like　the　smoking　snakes　that　danced　beside　what　was　left　of　the　fire。　I　watched　it　in　horror　knowing　that　I　was　seeing　a　yakshini　e　to　life。　In　the　haunting　red　glow　it　turned　to　face　the　priest；　who　had　fallen　silent。　No　longer　did　he　appear　confident。
　The　yakshini　cackled　like　a　hyena　and　reached　out　and　grabbed　the　priest。　The　priest　screamed。　No　one　came　to　his　aid。
　The　yakshini　pulled　the　priest　close；　until　they　were　face　to　face。　Then　that　awful　tongue　licked　the　priest's　face；　and　the　poor　man's　screams　gagged　in　his　throat。　Because　wherever　he　was　touched　by　the　tongue；　his　skin　was　pulled　away。　When　the　priest　was　a　faceless　mass　of　gore；　the　yakshini　threw　its　head　back　and　laughed。　Then　its　hands　flew　up　behind　the　priest's　neck　and　took　hold　of　his　skull。　With　one　powerful　yank　it　twisted　the　priest's　head　around　until　it　was　facing　the　other　way；　his　bones　cracking。　The　priest　fell　over　dead　as　the　yakshini　released　him。　Then　the　monster；　still　seated；　glanced　around　the　campfire　at　the　terrified　men。　A　sly　glance　it　was。　It　smiled　as　its　eyes　came　to　rest　on　me。　Yes；　I　believe　it　could　see　me　even　as　I　cowered　behind　the　huge　stone　that　separated　me　from　the　clearing。　Its　eyes　felt　like　cold　knives　pressing　into　my　heart。
　Then　finally；　thankfully；　the　monster　closed　its　eyes；　and　Amba's　body　lay　back　down。
　For　a　long　moment　none　of　the　men　moved。　Then　my　father…a　brave　man；　although　not　the　wisest…　moved　and　knelt　beside　Amba's　corpse。　He　poked　it　with　a　stick　and　it　did　not　move。　He　poked　the　priest　as　well；　but　it　was　clear　the　man　wasn't　going　to　be　performing　any　more　ceremonies　in　this　life。　The　other　men　came　up　beside　my　father。　There　was　talk　of　cremating　both　of　the　bodies　then　and　there。　Hiding　behind　my　boulder；　I　nodded　vigorously。　The　stench　had　blown　away　on　the　wind；　and　I　did　not　want　it　to　return。　Unfortunately；　before　more　wood　could　be　gathered；　my　father　noticed　movement　inside　Amba's　belly。　He　cried　out　to　the　others。　Amba　was　not　dead。　Or　if　she　was；　he　said；　her　child　was　not。　He　reached　for　a　knife　to　cut　the　infant　out　of　Amba's　womb。
　It　was　then　I　jumpe