pzb.lostsouls-第1部分

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　　In　the　spring；　families　in　the　suburbs　of　New　Orleans…Metairie；　Jefferson；　Lafayette…hang　wreaths　on　their　front　doors。　Gay　straw　wreaths　of　gold　and　purple　and　green；　wreaths　with　bells　and　froths　of　ribbons　trailing　down；　blowing；　tangling　in　the　warm　wind。　The　children　have　king　cake　parties。　Each　slice　of　cake　is　iced　with　a　different　sweet；　sticky　topping…candied　cherries　and　colored　sugar　are　favorites…and　the　child　who　finds　a　pink　plastic　baby　in　his　slice　will　enjoy　a　year　of　good　luck。　The　baby　represents　the　infant　Christ；　and　children　seldom　choke　on　it。　Jesus　loves　little　children。
　　The　adults　buy　spangled　cat's…eye　masks　for　masquerades；　and　other　women's　husbands　pull　other　men's　wives　to　them　under　cover　of　Spanish　moss　and　anonymity；　hot　silk　and　desperate　searching　tongues　and　the　wet　ground　and　the　ghostly　white　scent　of　magnolias　opening　in　the　night；　and　the　colored　paper　lanterns　on　the　veranda　in　the　distance。
　　In　the　French　Quarter　the　liquor　flows　like　milk。　Strings　of　bright　cheap　beads　hang　from　wrought…iron　balconies　and　adorn　sweaty　necks。　After　parades　the　beads　lie　scattered　in　the　streets；　the　royalty　of　gutter　trash；　gaudy　among　the　cigarette　butts　and　cans　and　plastic　Hurricane　glasses。　The　sky　is　purple；　the　flare　of　a　match　behind　a　cupped　hand　is　gold；　the　liquor　is　green；　bright　green；　made　from　a　thousand　herbs；　made　from　altars。　Those　who　know　enough　to　drink　Chartreuse　at　Mardi　Gras　are　lucky；　because　the　distilled　essence　of　the　town　burns　in　their　bellies。　Chartreuse　glows　in　the　dark；　and　if　you　drink　enough　of　it；　your　eyes　will　turn　bright　green。
　　
　　Christian's　bar　was　way　down　Rue　de　Chartres；　away　from　the　middle　of　the　Quarter；　toward　Canal　Street。　It　was　only　nine…thirty。　No　one　ever　came　in　until　ten；　not　even　on　Mardi　Gras　nights。　No　one　except　the　girl　in　the　black　silk　dress；　the　thin　little　girl　with　the　short；　soft　dark　hair　that　fell　in　a　curtain　across　her　eyes。　Christian　always　wanted　to　brush　it　away　from　her　face；　to　feel　it　trickle　through　his　fingers　like　rain。
　　Tonight；　as　usual；　she　slipped　in　at　nine…thirty　and　looked　around　for　the　friends　who　were　never　there。　The　wind　blew　the　French　Quarter　in　behind　her；　the　night　air　rippling　warm　down　Chartres　Street　as　it　slipped　away　toward　the　river；　smelling　of　spice　and　fried　oysters　and　whiskey　and　the　dust　of　ancient　bones　stolen　and　violated。　When　the　girl　saw　Christian　standing　alone　behind　the　bar；　narrow；　white；　and　immaculate　with　his　black　hair　glittering　on　his　shoulders；　she　came　and　hopped　onto　a　bar　stool…she　had　to　boost　herselfand　said；　as　she　did　most　nights；　〃Can　I　have　a　screwdriver？〃
　　〃Just　how　old　are　you；　love？〃　Christian　asked；　as　he　did　most　nights。
　　〃Twenty。〃　She　was　lying　by　at　least　four　years；　but　her　voice　was　so　soft　that　he　had　to　listen　with　his　whole　cupped　ear　to　hear　it；　and　her　arms　on　the　bar　were　thin　and　downed　with　fine　blond　hairs；　the　big　smudges　of　dark　makeup　like　bruises　around　her　eyes；　the　ratty　bangs；　and　the　little　sandaled　feet　with　their　toenails　painted　orange　only　made　her　more　childlike。　He　mixed　the　drink　weak　and　put　two　cherries　in　it。　She　fished　the　cherries　out　with　her　fingers　and　ate　them　one　by　one；　sucking　them　like　candy；　before　she　started　sipping　her　drink。
　　Christian　knew　the　girl　came　to　his　bar　because　the　drinks　were　cheap　and　he　would　serve　them　to　her　with　no　annoying　questions　about　ID　or　why　a　pretty　girl　wanted　to　drink　alone。　She　always　turned　with　a　start　every　time　the　street　door　opened；　and　her　hand　would　fly　to　her　throat。　〃Who　are　you　waiting　for？〃　Christian　asked　her　the　first　time　she　came　in。
　　〃The　vampires；〃　she　told　him。
　　She　was　always　alone；　even　on　the　last　night　of　Mardi　Gras。　The　black　silk　dress　left　her　throat　and　arms　bare。　Before；　she　had　smoked　Marlboro　Lights。　Christian　told　her　that　only　virgins　were　known　to　smoke　those；　and　she　blushed　and　came　in　the　next　night　with　a　pack　of　Camels。　She　said　her　name　was　Jessy；　and　Christian　only　smiled　at　her　joke　about　the　vampires；　he　didn't　know　how　much　she　knew。　But　she　had　pretty　ways　and　a　sweet　shy　smile；　and　she　was　a　tiny　brightness　in　every　ashen　empty　night。
　　He　certainly　wasn't　going　to　bite　her。
　　
　　The　vampires　got　into　town　sometime　before　midnight。　They　parked　their　black　van　in　an　illegal　space；　then　got　hold　of　a　bottle　of　Chartreuse　and　reeled　down　Bourbon　Street　swigging　it　by　turns；　their　arms　around　one　another's　shoulders；　their　hair　in　one　another's　faces。　All　three　had　outlined　their　features　in　dark　blots　of　makeup；　and　the　larger　two　had　teased　their　hair　into　great　tangled　clumps。　Their　pockets　were　stuffed　with　candy　they　ate　noisily；　washing　it　down　with　sweet　green　mouthfuls　of　Chartreuse。　Their　names　were　Molochai；　Twig；　and　Zillah；　and　they　wished　they　had　fangs　but　had　to　make　do　with　teeth　they　filed　sharp；　and　they　could　walk　in　sunlight　as　their　great…grandfathers　could　not。　But　they　preferred　to　do　their　roaming　at　night；　and　as　they　roamed　unsteadily　down　Bourbon　Street；　they　raised　their　voices　in　song。　Molochai　peeled　the　wrapper　off　a　HoHo；　crammed　as　much　of　it　into　his　mouth　as　he　could；　and　kept　singing；　spraying　Twig　with　crumbs　of　chocolate。
　　〃Give　me　some；〃　Twig　demanded。　Molochai　scooped　some　of　the　HoHo　out　of　his　mouth　and　offered　it　to　Twig。　Twig　laughed　helplessly；　clamped　his　lips　shut　and　shook　his　head；　finally　relented　and　licked　the　creamy　brown　paste　off　Molochai's　fingers。
　　〃Vile　dogs；〃　said　Zillah。　Zillah　was　the　most　beautiful　of　the　three；　with　a　smooth；　symmetrical；　androgynous　face；　with　brilliant　eyes　as　green　as　the　last　drop　of　Chartreuse　in　the　bottle。　Only　Zillah's　hands　gave　away　his　gender；　they　were　large　and　strong　and　heavily　veined　beneath　the　thin　white　skin。　He　wore　his　nails　long　and　pointed；　and　he　wore　his　caramel…colored　hair　tied　back　with　a　purple　silk　scarf。　Wisps　of　the　ponytail　had　escaped；　framing　the　stunning　face；　the　achingly　green　eyes。　Zillah　stood　a　head　and　a　half　shorter　than　Molochai　and　Twig　but　his　ice…cold　poise　and　the　way　his　larger　panions　flanked　him　told　onlookers　that　Zillah　was　the　absolute　leader　here。
　　Molochai　and　Twig's　features　were　like　two　sketches　of　the　same　face　done　by　different　artists；　one　using　sharp　straight　angles；　the　other　working　in　curves　and　circles。　Molochai　was　baby…faced；　with　large　round　eyes　and　a　wide　wet　mouth　he　liked　to　smear　with　orange　lipstick。　Twig's　face　was　angular　and　clever；　his　eyes　tracked　every　movement。　But　the　two　were　of　the　same　size　and　shape；　and　more　often　than　not　they　walked；　or　staggered；　in　step　with　each　other。
　　They　grinned　and　bared　their　teeth　at　a　tall　boy　in　fall　Nazi　uniform　who　had　veered　directly　into　their　path。　From　a　distance　Molochai　and　Twig's　flied　teeth　were　unremarkable　except　for　the　film　of　chocolate　that　webbed　them；　but　some　small　bloodlust　in　their　eyes　made　the　boy　turn　away；　looking　for　trouble　somewhere　else；　somewhere　vampires　would　not　trouble　themselves　to　go。
　　They　made　their　way　through　the　gaudy　throngs　to　the　sidewalk；　steadying　themselves　against　posters　that　screamed　MEN　WILL　TURN　INTO　WOMEN　BEFORE　YOUR　EYES！！！；　pictures　of　blondes　with　tired　breasts　and　five…o'clock　shadows。　They　stumbled　past　racks　of　postcards；　racks　of　T…shirts；　bars　that　opened　onto　the　sidewalk　and　served　drinks　to　passersby。　Overhead；　fireworks　blossomed　and　turned　the　sky　purple　with　their　smoke；　and　the　air　was　thick　with　smoke　and　liquor…breath　and　river…mist。　Molochai　let　his　head　fall　back　on　Twig's　shoulder　and　looked　up　at　the　sky；　and　the　fireworks　dazzled　his　eyes。
　　They　left　the　sleazy　lights　of　Bourbon　Street　behind；　swayed　left　onto　dark　Conti　and　right　onto　Chartres。　Soon　enough　they　found　a　tiny　bar　with　stained…glass　windows　and　a　friendly　light　inside。　The　sign　above　the　door　said　CHRISTIAN'S。　The　vampires　staggered　in。
　　
　　They　were　the　only　customers　except　for　a　silent　little　girl　sitting　at　the　bar；　so　they　mandeered　a　table　and　slammed　down　another　bottle　of　Chartreuse；　talking　loudly　to　each　other；　then　looking　at　Christian　and　laughing；　shrugging。　His　forehead　was　very　high　and　pale；　and　his　nails　were　as　long　and　pointed　as　Zillah's。　〃Maybe…〃　said　Molochai；　and　Twig　said；　〃Ask　him。〃　They　both　looked　at　Zillah　for　approval。　Zillah　glanced　over　at　Christian　and　raised　a　languid　eyebrow；　then　lifted　one　shoulder　in　a　tiny　shrug。
　　No　one　paid　any　attention　to　the　girl　at　the　bar；　although　she　stared　at　them　ceaselessly；　her　eyes　bright；　her　lips　moist　and　slightly　parted。
　　When　Christian　brought　them　their　tab；　Molochai　dug　deep　in　his　pocket　and　produced　a　coin。　He　did　not　put　the　coin　in　Christian's　hand；　but　held　it　up　to　the　light　so　that　Christian　might　look　well　at　it。　It　was　a　silver　doubloon；　of　the　same　shape　and　size　as　those　thrown　from　Mardi　Gras　parade　floats　along　with　the　treasure　trove　of　other　trinkets…the　beads；　the　bright　toys；　the　sweet　sugar　candy。　But　this　doubloon　was　heavier　and　far；　far　older　than　those。　Christian　could　not　make　out　the　year；　the　silver　was　scarred；　tarnished；　smudged　with　Molochai's　sticky　fingerprints。　But　the　picture　was　still　clear：　the　head　of　a　beautiful　man　with　enormous　sensuous　lips。　Lips　that　would　be　as　red　as　blood　were　they　not　carved　in　cold；　heavy　silver。　Lips　pricked　by　long；　sharp　fangs。　Below　the　man's　face；　in　ornate　letters；　the　word　BACCHUS　curved。
　　〃How…how　do　you　e？〃　Christian　stammered。　
　　Molochai　smiled　his　chocolatey　smile。　〃In　peace；〃　he　said。　He　looked　at　Zillah；　who　nodded。　Molochai　did　not　take　his　eyes　from　Zillah's　as　he　picked　up　the　empty　green…and…gold　Chartreuse　bottle；　broke　it　against　the　edge　of　the　table；　and　drew　a　razor…edge　of　glass　across　the　soft　skin　of　his　right　wrist。　A　shallow　crimson　gash　opened　there；　nearly　obscene　in　its　brightness。　Molochai；　still　smiling；　offered　his　wrist　to　Christian。　Christian　pressed　his　lips　to　the　gash；　closed　his　eyes；　and　sucked　like　a　baby；　tasting　the　Garden　of　Eden　in　the　drops　of　Chartreuse　that　mingled　with　Molochai's　blood。
　　Twig　watched　for　a　few　moments；　his　eyes　dark；　his　face　lost；　almost　bewildered。　Then　he　picked　up　Molochai's　left　arm　and　bit　at　the　skin　of　the　wrist　until