pzb.lostsouls-第32部分

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ok　Nothing　into　his　arms　and　kissed　him。
　　Zillah's　mouth　was　as　sour　and　sweet　as　wine；　and　his　spit　had　a　rich　red　corrupt　taste。　Nothing　let　it　flow　into　him；　drank　it；　took　strength　from　it　as　if　it　were　the　potion　in　the　wine　bottle。　That　taste　was　everything。　The　taste　of　blood　and　Zillah's　spit　and　e　and　the　roughplay　and　the　drinking　and　all　the　long　enchanted　days　and　nights。　Everything。　Nothing　still　wanted　to　talk　to　Lost　Souls？…he　had　e　all　this　wayrebut　he　no　longer　ached　for　a　family。　He　no　longer　wanted　to　pretend　that　Steve　and　Ghost　were　his　long…lost　brothers。　He　had　his　family　now；　he　had　chosen　them　and　their　nighttime　world。
　　〃e　on；〃　he　said。　〃You're　all　going　in　with　me。〃　He　had　asserted　himself　for　the　first　time；　he　was　being　their　equal；　and　he　thought　he　saw　approval　in　the　slant　of　Zillah's　smile。
　　He　felt　so　good；　so　strong　and　confident；　that　he　never　stopped　to　think　what　might　happen　once　they　got　into　the　house。
　　They　left　the　van　parked　near　the　road　and　made　their　way　unsteadily　up　the　driveway。　Gravel　crunched　under　Nothing's　feet。　The　house　was　thirty　steps　away。　Twenty。　Molochai　and　Twig　clutched　each　other；　trying　to　stay　upright。　Zillah's　hand　brushed　the　back　of　Nothing's　neck。　Nothing　shivered　at　the　touch。　It　made　him　want　to　be　back　in　the　van；　on　the　mattress　with　Zillah；　tangled；　sweaty；　biting　again。
　　But　now　he　was　so　close　to　Ghost；　he　thought　he　felt　the　tendril　of　a　golden　aura　touching　him。　The　house　loomed　up；　if　such　a　scruffy　little　house　could　be　said　to　loom。　One　shutter　hung　askew　like　the　half…cynical　tilt　of　an　eyebrow。　The　windows　were　lidded；　deeply　humorous　eyes。　This　house　was　good。
　　The　porch　steps　sagged　a　little　under　their　weight。　Not　much；　the　house　was　old　but　sturdy。　Someone　had　painted　a　hex　sign　at　the　threshold　of　the　door：　a　red　triangle　and　a　blue　one　interlocking　to　form　a　six…pointed　star；　and　in　the　center　a　small　ankh　traced　in　silver。　Molochai　and　Twig　drew　back　from　it；　still　clutching　each　other　uneasily；　but　Zillah　cast　them　a　look　of　contempt。　'That　thing　won't　hurt　you。　Just　step　over　it。〃
　　The　door　sported　an　incongruously　fancy　knocker：　the　face　of　a　gargoyle　wrought　in　silver；　with　a　heavy　ring　through　its　nostrils　and　eyes　that　seemed　about　to　bulge　out　of　their　sockets。　Nothing　used　the　ring　to　knock；　first　gently　and　then　loudly；　but　no　one　stirred　inside　the　house。　He　looked　doubtfully　at　the　old　brown　car　in　the　driveway。　Someone　must　be　here。　〃Maybe　they　don't　want　pany；〃　he　said；　not　sure　whether　the　sinking　inside　him　was　disappointment　or　relief。
　　〃Try　the　door；〃　Twig　suggested。　Before　Nothing　could　respond；　Twig　stepped　up　and　rattled　the　knob　himself。　It　would　turn　no　more　than　a　quarter　inch　in　either　direction。　The　door　was　locked。
　　〃I　guess　that's　it；〃　said　Nothing。　His　hand；　deep　in　the　pocket　of　his　raincoat；　touched　the　single　long　bone　he　had　found　on　the　shoulder　of　the　highway。　Four　days　ago…a　lifetime　ago…he　had　set　out　thinking　be　might　e　here。　Had　he　hoped　to　find　his　home　in　Missing　Mile；　at　an　address　he　had　found　on　the　liner　of　a　tape　put　out　by　an　obscure　band？　Now　that　he　was　here；　it　hardly　seemed　real。
　　Molochai　had　been　peering　through　the　window　next　to　the　front　door。　Now　he　gave　it　a　shove。　It　slid　up　with　only　a　small　groaning　protest。　〃I　found　a　way　in；〃　Molochai　said　proudly。
　　And　before　Nothing　quite　knew　what　was　happening；　the　other　three　had　climbed　through　the　window…even　Zillah；　who　stepped　delicately　over　the　sill　and　was　received　on　the　other　side　by　the　outstretched　hands　of　Molochai　and　Twig。　Nothing　stared　in　at　them。　They　grinned　and　waved　back；　daring　him。　But　he　couldn't　follow。　The　car　was　here；　someone　must　be　home。　He　couldn't　just　let　himself　in；　no　matter　how　much　he　wanted　to　see　the　inside　of　the　house。　He　couldn't　go　through　the　window；　He　mustn't。
　　A　splinter　from　the　windowsill　snagged　his　jeans　as　he　went　in。
　　The　jumble　of　decor…obscure；　lovely　jazz　and　acid　rock　posters；　religious　samplers；　a　bookshelf　with　volume　after　volume　of　herbal　lore　cheek　by　jowl　with　things　like　Kerouac；　Ellison；　Bradbury　（the　Bradbury　books　surely　belonged　to　Ghost；　Steve　would　never　choose　anything　so　romantic）…　caught　Nothing's　attention　at　first。　Then　he　realized　what　the　others　were　doing。　Molochai　and　Twig　were　in　the　kitchen；　ransacking　the　refrigerator。　He　heard　pop…tops　cracking　open　as　they　helped　themselves　to　cans　of　beer。　Zillah　fell　dramatically　onto　the　couch　and　began　unbuttoning　his　shirt　with　dreamy　fascination；　his　long　hair　draped　over　the　arm　of　the　couch；　streaming　down。
　　The　passage　down　the　hall；　pale　and　wavering　and　tantalizing；　held　Nothing's　attention　for　a　long　time　before　he　noticed　the　smell。　When　it　finally　breached　his　awareness；　he　did　not　recognize　it　at　once。　It　was　so　faint…there；　on　a　breath　of　air；　and　gone　again。　He　licked　his　lips；　took　a　shallow　breath　through　his　mouth。　Although　he　did　not　realize　it；　he　was　testing　the　air；　beginning　to　use　sensitive　scent　organs　that　had　lain　dormant　all　his　fifteen　years。　The　scent　was　familiar；　he　had　smelled　it　just　last　night；　but　now　there　was　something　different　about　it。　Something　foreign；　more　ethereal；　more　delicate　。　。　。
　　The　dark　metallic　smell　of　blood。　And　beneath　that；　the　bittersweet　scent　of　rose　petals。
　　Now　Zillah　was　beckoning　to　him　from　the　couch。　Nothing　could　tell　from　the　tiny　smirk　on　his　lips　what　Zillah　wanted；　and　he　had　to　quash　a　tiny　flare　of　irritation。　Didn't　Zillah　know　how　wrong　it　would　be　for　them　to　make　love　in　this　house？　Nothing　could　not　go　to　him；　not　this　time。　At　the　end　of　that　hall；　drowning　in　that　scent；　might　be　Ghost。　And　Nothing　thought　that　somehow　the　smell　might　be　his　fault。　He　should　not　have　brought　his　new　family　here。　He　lived　in　a　different　world　now；　and　could　not　cross　back　and　forth。　
　　He　started　down　that　white　passage。
　　The　hall　was　long。　Light　filtered　into　it　from　the　open　rooms。　Someone　had　left　the　bathroom　light　on。　Nothing　reached　in　and　turned　it　off　as　he　passed；　looking　at　the　ivoried　tub　squatting　on　gryphons'　feet；　the　lone　beer　can　on　the　edge　of　the　sink。　He　was　seeing　things　very　lucidly　now；　aware　of　each　detail。　The　air　in　the　house　was　as　clear　as　cool　still　water。
　　Then　he　was　at　thc　door　of　someone's　bedroom。　Ghost's；　it　had　to　be。　Delicate　colored　leaves　and　dead　flowers　were　pinned　to　the　ceiling。　On　the　walls；　in　crayon　and　ink；　pencil　and　Magic　Marker；　was　a　fabulous　twisted　riot　of　color…maps　of　real　lands；　maps　of　strange　lands；　faces　that　seemed　about　to　speak。　And　words。　Hundreds　of　words。　There　were　words　strung　together　in　sentences　and　quotations　and　lyrics。　There　were　words　alone；　written　there　because　of　their　individual　bright　or　dark　glory。　And　there　on　the　ceiling…above　the　bed；　showing　through　a　nest　of　brittle　foliage…there　were　stars。　A　universe　of　stars　and　planets　painted　there；　a　thousand　tiny　heavenly　bodies；　yellow；　glowing　faintly。
　　My　god；　I'm　home；　thought　Nothing；　and　stepped　into　the　room。　And　in　that　instant；　the　figure　on　the　bed…the　figure　that　Nothing　had　not　seen　because　it　lay　so　still；　swathed　in　a　great　heap　of　bedclothes；　because　its　pale　hair　fell　so　transparent　across　the　pillow…sat　bolt　upright　and　shrieked；　〃NOTHING！〃
　　
　　In　the　living　room；　three　heads　swivelled　toward　the　sound。　Molochai's　throat　stopped　working　in　midswig；　and　beer　cascaded　over　his　chin。　〃Nothing？〃　he　sputtered。　
　　〃Nothing；〃　said　Twig；　nodding。
　　Zillah's　eyes　narrowed。　〃We'll　see　about　Nothing；〃　he　hissed。　With　one　fluid　movement　he　was　off　the　couch；　disappearing　into　the　recesses　of　the　house。　For　a　moment　Molochai　and　Twig　gaped　after　him。　Then　they　looked　at　each　other；　shrugged；　and　followed　Zillah　down　the　hall。
　　
　　Steve　was　dreaming。　Somewhere　in　his　head　Ann　struggled；　beat　her　fists　against　the　inside　of　his　skull；　trying　to　force　her　way　out。　Fuck　her。　She　could　rot　in　there。　（What　the　hell　do　you　think　she's　doing？　his　mind　asked　nastily；　but　he　ignored　it。）　Why　was　she　plaining？　She　liked　to　play　with　his　mind。
　　But　suddenly　there　were　teeth。
　　At　first　he　thought　he　had　imagined　the　gnawing。　But　pain　flared　inside　his　skull；　razor…sharp；　ripping；　and　he　knew。　She　was　trying　to　chew　her　way　out　of　his　head。　She　was　trying　to　eat　her　way　out。　He　felt　her　teeth　tearing　at　the　soft　meat　of　his　brain。　He　clawed　at　his　forehead；　trying　to　stop　her；　trying　to　wrench　her　out　before　she　made　wounds　that　would　never　heal…
　　〃Jesus　fuckin'　Christ；〃　he　gasped；　jerking　himself　awake。　A　Penthouse　centerfold　grinned　at　him　from　the　wall　above　his　bed；　pulling　her　anatomy　open　like　pink　bubble　gum。　Steve　snarled　and　tore　it　down；　crumpled　it；　threw　it　into　the　corner。
　　Ghost　shrieked　from　the　next　room；　his　voice　clear　and　terrified。　Nothing；　it　sounded　like　he'd　said。
　　Nightmares　for　everybody　this　morning。　Or　this　afternoon；　more　likely。　What　time　had　they　finally　gone　to　bed？　No　idea。　A　hangover　began　its　stealthy　gnawing　inside　Steve's　head；　no　dream　this　time；　and　he　almost　rolled　over　and　let　Ghost　sleep　through　it。　But　Ghost's　dreams　were　always　just　a　little　too　real　to　ignore。
　　He　rolled　out　of　bed；　dragged　on　semiclean　underwear　and　a　T…shirt　that　didn't　even　approach　a　state　of　cleanliness。　Got　to　do　some　laundry；　he　chided　himself。　Yeah；　laundry；　and　maybe　haul　some　whiskey　bottles　and　beer　cans　out　to　the　recycling　dump；　and　maybe　make　some　apologies　and　get　his　life　back　together　while　he　was　at　it。
　　That　was　when　he　heard　the　voices　in　the　living　room　and　the　footsteps　ing　down　the　hall。
　　Having　his　privacy　or　his　belongings　invaded　anywhere；　at　any　time；　was　enough　to　piss　Steve　off　mightily。　Someone　had　stolen　the　radio　out　of　his　T…bird　right　after　he'd　gotten　it　back　in　high　school；　and　Steve　had　sat　outside　for　three　nights　waiting　fur　the　asshole　to　show　himself　again。　The　asshole　never　had；　of　course。　But　the　idea　of　this　house；　Miz　Deliverance's　house；　being　broken　into　was　almost　unbearable。　White　magic　had　happened　here。　This　place　had　sanctity；　dammit。
　　He　had　never　expected　anything　bad　to　happen　in　this　house；　had　vaguely　thought　it　had　a　magic　circle　around　it　or　something。　But　he　had