pzb.lostsouls-第48部分

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　　But　lately　Simon　had　been　getting　into　animals。　Ann　had　pitched　a　crying　fit　the　day　she　found　him　cutting　up　the　lusterless　carcass　of　Sarah　Jane；　a　black…and…white　kitten　she'd　been　feeding　on　the　back　steps。　Since　then；　as　far　as　she　knew；　he　had　stuck　to　using　mice　from　the　Woolworth's　in　Corinth　and　toads　he　caught　in　the　vacant　lot　next　door。　He　injected　the　toads　with　varying　amounts　of　his　own　blood　and　sometimes　with　liquid　LSD。　Mostly　they　jumped　around　a　lot。
　　Over　the　rims　of　his　glasses　Simon　looked　at　her　oddly。　〃Were　you　thinking　of　going　out　tonight；　Ann？〃
　　Involuntarily　she　glanced　at　the　space　beneath　her　bed。　The　bed　skirt　hid　the　suitcase；　but　again　she　felt　sure　that　her　father　could　see　through　mere　cloth；　that　he　knew　her　intentions。　〃I　might　go　down　to　the　Yew；〃　she　said。
　　〃You　aren't　going　to　see　Steve；　are　you？　After　the　way　he　dishonored　you？〃　She　had　told　her　father　only　that　Steve　had　slapped　her。　For　once；　with　rare　sensitivity；　he　had　not　pressed　the　issue。
　　〃No；　Simon；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　not　going　to　see　Steve。〃　
　　〃Or　his　peculiar　friend？〃
　　〃Simon；　Ghost　isn't　〃She　stopped。　There　was　no　point　saying　Ghost　wasn't　peculiar；　that　wasn't　what　she　meant　anyway。　〃Ghost　never　did　anything　to　me；〃　she　finished。　
　　〃I　wish　you　wouldn't　go　out　tonight；　daughter。〃
　　She　looked　at　him。　〃Are　you　requesting　or　ordering？〃　
　　〃I　have　your　best　interests　in　mind；〃　he　said　frostily。　Ann　rubbed　her　wrists。　At　sixteen　she　had　e　home　roaring　drunk　one　night。　Simon　was　still　drinking　then　too；　but　that　didn't　make　him　any　more　passionate。　He　trussed　her　to　her　own　bedposts　with　rope　and　kept　her　tied　there　for　seven　hours；　until　she　pissed　herself　and　begged　him　to　forgive　her　stupidity。　The　memory　of　the　chafing　had　never　quite　gone　away。
　　〃So　I'm　not　supposed　to　go　out　tonight；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　supposed　to　stay　home　and　wait　on　you。〃　Defeat　welled　in　her。　Why　did　Simon　have　to　get　his　way　every　damn　time？　
　　Maybe　he　didn't。
　　She　looked　up　at　him　again；　this　time　trying　to　make　her　eyes　submissive；　to　wipe　away　the　frigid　hurt　from　his　face。　〃I'm　sorry；　Daddy。〃　That　would　get　him　for　sure。　〃Had　a　long　day　at　work。　Why　don't　you　go　read　the　paper？　Or　your　library　books？　I'll　fix　us　a　pot　of　coffee。〃
　　Simon　was　touched。　He　came　across　the　room　to　kiss　her　forehead。　She　had　to　stop　herself　from　flinching　back；　sure　he　would　know　what　was　up　when　he　tasted　the　sweat　at　her　hairline。　But　he　straightened　and　gave　her　another　slanted　smile。　〃You　may　rest；〃　he　said。　〃I　will　make　the　coffee。〃
　　No；　dammit！　That　wouldn't　work。　She　put　on　her　sweetest　smile。　The　taste　of　vomit　rose　in　her　throat。　〃Let　me　do　it；〃　she　said。　〃I　know　you　want　to　see　the　paper。　There's　another　article　about　the　disappearances。〃
　　That　got　him。　Simon　had　followed　the　disappearances　with　a　weird　avidity；　considering　it　was　only　a　Violin　Road　rug…rat　and　a　couple　of　bums　that　had　been　killed。　Maybe　be　had　been　dissecting　them；　too。
　　As　soon　as　Simon　left　the　room；　Ann　dug　through　the　top　drawer　of　her　dresser　until　she　found　a　little　plastic　bottle。　She　opened　it　and　shook　the　contents　into　her　cupped　hand。　Several　tiny　pills；　wafer…thin；　each　with　a　V…shaped　cutout　in　the　center。　The　Valium　dated　back　to　her　mother's　last　nervous　illness。　Ann　had　stolen　it　out　of　the　medicine　cabinet　a　year　ago。　She　had　taken　almost　all　the　pills　on　various　sleepless　nights；　only　these　were　left。　She　hoped　there　was　still　some　decal　in　the　freezer。
　　〃There　you　go；〃　she　said　a　few　minutes　later；　setting　a　yellow　ceramic　mug　on　the　arm　of　Simon's　chair。　〃It　came　out　a　little　strong；　so　I　put　in　a　lot　of　sugar。　I　hope　it's　not　too　sweet。〃
　　〃I'm　sure　it　will　be　lovely；〃　he　said。
　　She　held　her　breath　as　he　took　the　first　sip；　but　through　the　steam　his　face　registered　only　tired　contentment。　He　might　have　been　any　father　letting　his　daughter　bring　him　a　cup　of　coffee　after　a　hard　day's　work。　She　still　felt　a　little　sad。
　　An　hour　later　she　kissed　his　lips　lightly　and　locked　the　front　door　behind　her。　His　breathing　was　a　little　irregular；　and　she　tasted　the　sourness　of　coffee　and　tranquilizers　on　his　mouth；　but　she　would　save　a　prayer　and　a　curse　for　him　when　she　got　on　the　bus。　No　one　could　stop　her　from　going　to　meet　her　true　love　now。
　　
　　The　Greyhound　took　her　south；　frosting　her　to　the　bone　with　its　air…conditioning　adjusted　for　the　middle　of　August；　not　for　this　November　night。　As　the　bus　lumbered　away　from　the　dark　depot；　Ann　half…rose　out　of　her　seat；　one　hand　on　her　suitcase；　the　other　raised　to　stop　the　driver。　Wait；　she　almost　said。　Wait；　I　went　a　little　crazy；　let　me　out　and　I'll　trade　in　mil　ticket　and　go　back　home；　maybe　Steve　will　take　me　back；　maybe　my　father　will　wele　me　home。
　　But　the　bus　lurched　and　toppled　her　back　into　her　seat。　Then　they　were　bumping　across　the　railroad　tracks　that　led　out　of　Missing　Mile；　and　she　saw　an　omen：　far　down　the　line；　at　some　other　junction；　a　pair　of　signal　lights　gleaming　in　the　night。
　　They　were　green。
　　Bright　green。
　　Like　the　color　of　her　lover's　eyes。
　　
　　　Chapter　26
　　
　　〃This　is　the　best　goddamn　food　I　ever　ate；〃　said　Steve；　digging　a　spoon　into　his　third　bowl　of　gumbo。　They　hadn't　had　much　to　eat　on　the　road。　
　　〃Better　than　my　cooking？〃　asked　Ghost；　hurt。
　　〃Shit；　Ghost；　you　can't　eat　mung　bean　sprouts　and　tofu　all　the　time。〃
　　〃That's　good　stuff；〃　said　Ghost。　But　the　waitress　put　another　bowl　of　gumbo　in　front　of　him；　and　he　hunched　over　it；　breathing　the　savory　steam；　his　eyelids　fluttering　with　pleasure。　He　stirred　it　and　spooned　up　a　mouthful。　The　flavors　melted　together　on　his　tongue。　He　tasted　the　delicate　meatiness　of　crab　and　shrimp；　the　green　sassafras　tang　of　file；　the　soft　blandness　of　okra；　〃This　might　be　even　better　than　soy…bean…mushroom　loaf；〃　he　admitted　when　he　had　swallowed。
　　Back　outside；　agreeably　full　of　gumbo　and　strong　chicory　coffee；　they　dodged　the　tourists　on　Bourbon　Street　and　turned　down　a　shady　side　street　whose　iron　balconies　were　festooned　with　lush　green　hanging　ferns　and　thousands　of　colored　Mardi　Gras　beads。　Soon　the　street　turned　into　a　narrow　alley；　and　Ghost　thought　they'd　gotten　lost。　Instead　they　suddenly　found　themselves　in　the　cacophony　of　Jackson　Square；　with　the　silvery　spires　of　St。　Louis　Cathedral　looming　up　behind　them　and　a　panorama　of　portrait　painters　and　street　musicians　spread　before。　In　the　middle　of　it　all　Andrew　Jackson　reared　up　on　his　horse；　sour…faced　and　pigeon…spotted；　challenging　the　giant　magnolias　that　surrounded　the　square。
　　Ghost　couldn't　recall　ever　seeing　a　map　of　New　Orleans；　but　he　knew　the　Mississippi　River　curved　around　the　city　in　a　giant　crescent　shape；　like　a　cradling　hand。　He　could　smell　the　water　and　feel　its　throbbing　current　in　his　nerves。　But　he　knew　about　the　miasma　that　could　sometimes　hang　over　such　a　powerful　body　of　water；　especially　in　such　lush；　humid　weather。　It　was　as　if　the　water　vapor　created　a　palpable　feeling　of　despair。　His　grandmother　had　told　him　of　a　man　she'd　known　who　stood　on　a　spot　in　England　by　the　sea　and　heard　a　voice　urging　him　to　jump　to　his　death　on　the　rocks　a　hundred　feet　below。　Later　the　man　found　out　that　several　suicides　had　occurred　from　that　spot。　Considering　the　state　he　and　Steve　were　in　after　driving　all　night；　if　they　saw　a　large　expanse　of　water；　they　might　be　tempted　to　take　a　swim。
　　They　crossed　the　square　and　were　soon　deep　in　the　Quarter　again。　The　side　street　they　were　on　did　not　look　as　well　travelled　as　some　of　the　others。　The　long　shutters　on　either　side　of　the　doorway　stoops　hung　crooked；　their　bright　paint　fading；　and　some　of　the　cobblestones　in　the　sidewalk　were　smashed　to　pieces。　Steve's　pace　slowed　as　they　passed　a　dark　little　bar；　and　he　stared　in　longingly　at　the　rows　of　bottles　reflected　in　the　mirror。　〃So　what　do　we　do　now？〃　he　asked　Ghost。　〃You　think　they're　here　yet？〃
　　Ghost　closed　his　eyes　and　tried　to　send　his　mind　out；　tried　to　find　something　familiar；　something　young　and　lonely；　something　green…eyed　and　frightening。　At　last　he　opened　his　eyes　and　shook　his　head。　〃I　can't　tell。　There's　too　much　magic　here。　This　place　is　too　haunted。　I　can't　separate　it　all。〃
　　Steve　clawed　at　his　hair。　〃Well　fuck　it；　then！　Let's　just　go　back　to　that　bar！　Jesus；　I　thought　you'd　know　what　to　do　once　we　got　here。〃
　　〃Calm　down；〃　said　Ghost。　〃I'm　working　on　it。　First　we　need　a　place　to　stay；　I　guess。〃　Steve　shrugged。　Okay；　thought　Ghost；　if　that's　how　it　is；　then　that's　how　it　is。　Steve's　tired　and　disgusted；　I　don't　blame　him。　And　maybe　when　we　find　Ann；　she'll　tell　us　to　fuck　off。　But　I'm　not　giving　up　yet。　〃e　on；〃　he　said。　〃We'll　ask　around　for　a　cheap　place。　Then　maybe　we　can　get　a　drink　and　decide　what　we're　gonna　do　next。〃
　　
　　They　asked　at　several　hotels　and　guest　houses；　starting　with　the　modest　ones　and　progressing　to　the　seedy…looking　dumps。　There　was　nothing　under　fifty　dollars　a　night；　which　would　take　just　about　all　the　cash　they　had。　〃Let's　just　stay　up　all　night　drinking；〃　Steve　suggested。　Ghost　was　almost　ready　to　agree　with　him　when　he　saw　a　small　wooden　sign　at　the　mouth　of　an　alley：　MAGICK　SHOPPE。　Below　that；　in　smaller　letters：　Arkady　Raventon；　Proprietor。
　　Had　he　found　his　way　here　on　purpose？　Were　such　places　like　a　magnet　to　that　part　of　his　mind？　Ghost　was　too　tired　to　care　much；　at　any　rate　he　would　inquire　here。　He　felt　fortable　among　practitioners　of　the　occult；　he　had　grown　up　around　them。　Maybe　Arkady　Raventon；　Proprietor；　would　know　of　a　cheap　place　to　stay。
　　The　shop　was　far　back　at　the　end　of　an　alley；　its　door　hidden　behind　shadows　and　garbage　cans。　〃Creepy　place；〃　said　Steve。
　　〃You　never　know；〃　Ghost　told　him。　〃There　might　be　somebody　here　who　can　help　us。　You　got　a　better　idea？〃
　　The　alley　was　dim；　and　the　inside　of　the　shop　seemed　fully　black。　Steve　and　Ghost　stood　just　inside　the　door　for　a　moment；　waiting　for　their　eyes　to　adjust　to　the　sudden　absence　of　light。　Slowly；　pinpoints　of　fire　began　to　appear　in　the　darkness。　They　were　candles；　Ghost　realized；　scented　votive　candles；　the　only　source　of　light　in　the　shop。　He　smelled　cinnamon；　orange　blossoms；　nutmeg。　And　under　the　perfume　of　the　candles；　a　smell　like　the　back　r