pzb.lostsouls-第12部分

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out　her　eyes。　He　rose　like　a　narrow；　pale　beacon　above　most　of　the　children　in　the　club；　and　he　could　look　down　on　leather…clad；　studded　shoulders；　on　earlobes　hung　heavy　with　chains　and　crucifixes　and　tiny　silver　skulls；　on　heads　of　hair　dyed　every　unnatural　color　Possible…blue…black；　orange；　red；　white。　The　club　smelled　of　sweat　and　melting　hair　mousse　and　hot　leather；　all　underlaid　with　the　sweet；　spicy　smell　of　clove　cigarettes。　A　veil　of　smoke　twisted　gently　around　Christian's　shoulders。
　　He　stood　against　the　back　wall；　not　smoking；　not　drinking；　just　watching　the　children　move；　watching　their　faces　lift　and　their　hands　flicker　in　the　blue　light。　A　boy　came　up　to　him　and　said；　〃Will　you　watch　my　leather？〃　When　Christian　nodded；　the　boy　dumped　the　jacket　on　a　chair　near　Christian　and　danced　back　into　the　crowd；　lithe　and　T…shirred；　his　thin　arms　raised　above　his　head。　These　children　trusted　one　another；　the　adult　world　was　obtuse　and　threatening；　but　in　one　another　they　had　absolute　faith。　Still；　a　leather　jacket　was　nothing　to　be　left　unattended。　Each　one　was　an　individual　masterpiece　marked　by　its　owner　with　intricate　arrangements　of　studs　and　safety　pins；　arcane　band　logos；　patches　and　chains。
　　Bela　Lugosi　was　still　dead。　The　singer's　voice　was　low　and　smooth　and　insidious　as　throat　cancer。　Christian　imagined　him　gaunt　and　bone…white；　writhing　onstage。　When　the　song　was　over；　the　boy　danced　back　and　slung　his　jacket　over　his　shoulders。　He　offered　Christian　a　cigarette　and　lit　it　for　him。　Christian　inhaled　once：　a　clove；　tasting　of　the　Orient　and　ash；　its　paper　sugared。　Then　he　held　it　between　two　long　fingers　and　let　it　burn；　raising　it　to　his　lips　occasionally；　pretending　to　smoke。　The　taste　nauseated　him；　all　tastes　nauseated　him　save　one。　And　now　he　was　so　hungry；　so　thirsty。
　　When　the　boy　cupped　his　hand　around　his　mouth　and　went　on　tiptoe　to　shout　something　in　Christian's　ear…his　name；　perhaps；　though　Christian　never　caught　it…Christian　laid　his　hand　flat　against　the　small　of　the　boy's　back。　Through　the　T…shirt　damp　with　sweat；　the　boy's　skin　was　hot；　alive。　Christian　felt　the　little　ridges　of　the　spine　through　the　thin　cloth。　The　boy　looked　at　Christian　for　a　moment；　his　eyes　darker　than　before。　Then　he　smiled　and　moved　so　that　his　hip　was　touching　Christian's。　Their　hipbones　met　and　spoke　to　each　other　in　a　secret　bone　language。　The　boy's　smile　was　heartbreakingly　sweet。
　　〃Mind…eraser；〃　the　boy　shouted　when　they　were　at　the　bar。　Christian　paid　for　the　concoction。　It　was　the　drink　of　a　child　alcoholic；　a　sweet　fizz　with　a　deadly　bite。　〃Share　with　me；〃　the　boy　offered；　holding　up　the　cup。　There　were　two　straws　in　it。
　　〃No；〃　Christian　said；　remembering　the　nausea；　imagining　how　Molochai；　Twig；　and　Zillah　would　howl。　〃You　have　it。〃
　　For　a　moment　he　thought　he　heard　them　laughing　raucously　behind　him；　thought　he　saw　them　from　the　corner　of　his　eye：　three　clumps　of　hair；　three　smudged　faces。　When　he　turned；　there　were　only　three　girls　in　leather　dresses　giggling　and　staring　at　him。　Christian　turned　back　to　the　bar；　but　the　boy　was　sharing　his　mind…eraser　with　the　girl　on　his　left。　The　girl's　teased　red　hair　tickled　the　boy's　face；　and　Christian　saw　him　laugh　and　brush　strands　of　it　away。
　　But　when　the　drink　was　gone；　the　girl　went　off　on　the　arm　of　a　skinhead；　and　the　boy　turned　to　Christian。　〃Do　you　want　to　go　somewhere？〃
　　The　air　outside　was　amazingly　cool　and　fresh　after　the　haze　of　smoke　and　liquor　in　the　club；　and　the　boy　stood　still　for　a　few　seconds；　gazing　up　at　the　stars；　breathing　deeply。　He　smiled　at　Christian。　〃It's　nice。　Let's　go　down　to　the　river。〃
　　As　they　wandered　down　to　the　river's　edge；　Christian　watched　the　boy；　saw　the　ripe　shine　of　his　eyes　and　mouth　in　the　dark；　the　softness　of　the　blond　hair　that　was　cut　short　at　the　sides　and　tumbled　in　a　pale　cascade　down　the　boy's　back；　the　grace　of　the　boy's　drunken　hands　and　the　unconcerned；　achingly　lithe　motion　of　his　hips；　the　soft　place　under　his　jaw　where　his　pulse　heat。　He　smelled　the　leather　and　the　clean　sweat　and　soap　and　skin　of　the　boy；　and　he　smelled　the　French　Quarter　around　them；　the　spice　and　the　garbage；　the　grainy　golden　smell　of　beer；　the　deep　brown　fish　smell　of　the　river。
　　The　water　shone　dark　and　still　tonight。　Near　its　edge；　the　boy　spread　his　jacket　and　pulled　Christian　down　with　him。　Their　tongues　melted　together。　The　boy's　spit　was　as　sour　and　sweet　as　wine。　Christian　sucked　at　the　boy's　mouth；　let　the　spit　flow　down　his　throat；　warming　him；　awakening　his　hunger　even　more。
　　The　boy　twisted　and　stretched　under　him；　hugging　him　close　to　bony　childish　chest　and　soft　thin　skin；　and　then　the　boy　sat　up　and　pulled　his　T…shirt　over　his　head。　The　moonlight　made　him　a　creature　of　white　and　silver；　striped　dark　with　jutting　ribs。　He　slipped　back　into　his　leather。　〃I　like　to　feel　it　against　my　skin；〃　he　explained　shyly。
　　Christian　held　the　boy　close；　cradled　him；　kissed　his　throat。　The　boy　moaned　very　softly　when　he　felt　the　first　touch　of　the　long　needle…sharp　teeth　that　curved　over　Christian's　lips　now；　drawn　out　by　the　night　and　the　smell　of　the　river　and　the　delicious　beauty　of　the　boy　in　his　arms。
　　The　boy　twisted　his　head　to　look　at　Christian。　His　eyes　were　big　in　his　thin　face；　and　very　dark。　〃What　are　you？〃　he　asked。
　　Christian　was　silent。　But　his　teeth　had　pricked　the　boy's　skin；　and　the　first　faint　scent　of　blood　reached　him。
　　〃Are　you　a　vampire？〃
　　Christian　stroked　the　boy's　hair　back　from　his　forehead；　kissed　the　side　of　the　boy's　face　tenderly；　flicking　the　tip　of　his　tongue　across　the　smooth　skin。
　　〃Make　me　into　one　too；〃　said　the　boy。　〃Please？　I　want　to　be　one。　I　want　to　walk　at　night　with　you　and　fall　in　love　and　drink　blood。　Kill　me。　Make　me　into　a　vampire　too。　Bite　me。　Take　me　with　you。〃
　　Christian　nipped　the　boy's　throat　gently；　not　breaking　the　skin　this　time。　He　ran　his　hands　along　the　length　of　the　boy's　body　under　the　jacket；　caressed　his　smooth　bare　chest；　slipped　one　hand　beneath　the　belt　of　the　boy's　jeans　and　found　molten　trembling　heat　there。　The　boy's　back　arched；　he　made　a　low　gasping　sound。　Christian's　tongue　found　the　tender　spot　under　the　jaw；　and　he　sank　his　teeth　in。　The　boy　whimpered　and　went　rigid　in　his　arms。　The　raw　yolky　taste　of　life　spilled　into　Christian's　mouth；　bubbling　out　of　the　boy　fresh　and　strong。
　　Christian　eased　the　boy's　body　to　the　ground；　held　him；　and　sucked。　The　taste　was　all　he　remembered；　all　he　dreamed　about；　all　he　would　ever　need。　The　boy　pressed　himself　up　against　Christian。　His　hands　found　the　long　black　hair　that　spilled　down　over　Christian's　shoulders　and　tore　at　it　in　a　passion　born　of　pain。
　　Then　suddenly　Christian's　vision　blossomed　red；　black；　red　again；　great　gauzy　flowers　of　light　and　darkness　that　blotted　out　the　French　Quarter；　the　river；　the　boy's　face。　He　clasped　the　boy　more　tightly；　and　their　bodies　locked　together　in　a　final　wash　of　ecstasy；　Christian's　belly　warming　and　filling；　the　boy　beginning　to　die。　The　boy's　sperm　flooded　warm　over　Christian's　fingers。　Christian　brought　his　hand　up　to　his　lips　and　sucked　at　that　too。　The　two　tastes　mingling　in　his　mouth；　creamy　and　delicate　and　bitter　and　salty；　raw　as　life；　were　almost　too　exquisite　to　bear。
　　When　the　boy's　veins　ran　dry　and　his　hair　and　hands　trailed　limply　on　the　wet　ground；　Christian　picked　him　up　and　held　him　like　a　baby；　gazing　into　the　face　gone　paler　than　before；　the　rapturous　half…closed　eyes。　For　several　minutes　he　held　the　boy；　and　then　he　turned　his　cold　eyes　to　the　cold　moon；　and　something　passed　between　them；　between　Christian　and　the　moon；　something　as　ancient　and　implacable　as　the　tides；　as　the　distances　between　the　stars。
　　And　had　the　moon　been　able　to　look　into　Christian's　eyes；　it　would　have　seen　that　Christian　did　not　love　what　he　had　done；　but　now　he　was　no　longer　hungry。　He　was　no　longer　sick　and　cold。　The　drinking　of　a　life　left　him　a　little　less　alone　than　he　had　been　before；　and　if　the　boy　had　died　thinking　he　would　rise　again　as　one　with　Christian；　that　could　not　be　helped。　It　was　kinder　to　let　the　children　die　believing　as　they　did。　He　could　not　turn　the　boy　into　one　of　his　kind　any　more　than　the　boy　could　have　bitten　him　and　turned　him　human。　They　were　of　separate　races；　races　that　were　close　enough　to　mate　but　still　as　far　away　from　each　other　as　dusk　and　dawn。　But　the　dead　slept；　and　did　not　know。
　　Christian　kissed　the　white　forehead　and　eased　the　empty　little　body　into　the　river。　The　weight　of　the　leather　dragged　it　down；　and　for　a　moment　Christian　saw　it　hanging　beneath　the　surface；　limp　and　cold　as　a　dream。　Then　it　was　gone。
　　
　　　Chapter　6
　　
　　Nothing　cupped　his　hands　around　the　candle　again。　He　felt　the　heat　biting　into　his　palms；　the　bright　point　of　the　flame　embedding　itself　in　his　eyes。　When　he　looked　away；　yellow　light　burst　out　of　the　darkness　and　melted　across　his　vision。　He　knuckled　his　fists　against　his　eyes　and　rubbed　hard。
　　The　candleholder；　an　ornate　thing　of　black　iron　as　fluted　and　curlicued　as　a　balcony　in　some　exotic　city；　tipped　and　spilled。　Only　when　the　hot　wax　touched　his　foot　did　he　realize　that　something　was　wrong。　The　flame　had　begun　to　lick　at　the　quilt。　Small　tongues　of　fire　shot　up；　blackening　the　bright　cloth；　dazzling　Nothing's　eyes。　He　watched　the　flames　for　several　seconds；　caught　in　their　hot　thrall；　as　still　as　a　boy　dragged。　Then；　slowly；　he　put　out　his　hand　to　touch　them。
　　The　pain　yanked　him　out　of　his　trance。　He　grabbed　a　dirty　T…shirt　off　the　floor　and　threw　it　over　the　flames；　beat　at　them；　smothered　them。　Then；　cautiously；　he　lifted　the　shirt　and　examined　the　mess。　There　was　a　large　black…edged　hole　in　the　quilt；　and　the　room　was　filled　with　the　smell　of　charred　cloth。　It　smelled　almost　like　burnt　marshmallows；　but　he　couldn't　say　he　had　been　toasting　marshmallows　in　his　room；　that　would　be　pushing　things　too　far。
　　〃Fuck；〃　he　said　softly；　without　conviction。　He　would　catch　hell　for　burning　the　quilt；　but　he　couldn't　make　himself　care。　His　father's　impotent　anger；　his　mother's　puzzled　eyes　held　no　dread　for　him；　only　a　dull　guilt。　A　sadness　that　he　dismissed　as　stupid。
　　If　his　parents　watched　him　with　bewilderment　and　a　little　fear；　if　t